florastorm
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Summary
Now they’re alone in Qin’s condo, the adrenaline is fading into something heavier, and Qin is looking at him with those dark, wanting eyes. Duang is trying so hard to be a gentleman—to keep his hands to himself and his sanity intact—but Qin keeps whispering things like "be patient" and "good boy," and Duang’s brain is rapidly turning into static.
Duang’s trying to be good. He really is. But Qin is making it impossible.
Series
- Part 2 of DuangQin Crumbs
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Charcoal & Skin (draw me with your fingertips) by phubunni
Fandoms: ด้วงกับเธอ | Duang With You (TV), Thai Actor RPF
05 Apr 2026
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Summary
Duang has an anatomy assignment. Qin has a way of looking at him that makes his hands shake. And somewhere between the art supply store and the charcoal dust on the floor, the assignment becomes something else entirely.
Or: Duang tries to draw. Qin makes it very, very difficult.
Series
- Part 6 of DuangQin Crumbs
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The café smelled faintly of coffee, flowers, and freshly baked croissants. The low murmur of customers filled the air like a white cloud, soft and hazy, blurring the edges of everything.
Boom stood there in a white shirt, the top two buttons carefully undone, making him look more relaxed than exposed. A silver necklace with a bird pendant rested between his clavicles, and a few rings hugged his slender fingers.
The door swung open, and cool evening air rushed in at once, carrying the scent of rain-soaked ground and something soft, like wind after a storm.
"Good evening."
The man looked like someone caught up between a yawn and a smile. If that’s even possible.
"Can I get a lavender latte with only two pumps of syrup and a double shot of espresso, please?" he smiled at Boom.
Boom smiled. "You look exactly like someone who would order a lavender latte."
or ! one night, Aou walks into a café and meets Boom, then comes back the next night, and the next. Somewhere between quiet conversations and late hours, it becomes a routine.
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Teetee was just trying to introduce himself to the person living next to him, not expecting an angel to open the door.
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The complaint dies in his throat — Minho pulls him even closer by the waist. His fingers are cold against his heated skin; he shivers. The hands are sticky and surely stained blue.
Minho lolls his whole tongue out. "Suck."
Or, Jisung wants to taste the blue popsicle; he has to suck the taste out of Minho's tongue.