#/ he just smells rly good...

[stuckinapril]

I complain about wanting male attention bc of my daddy issues and then when I get perceived in any sort of way by a man I’m like I’ve been doubly victimized …. This is the worst, most blasphemous thing to have ever happened to me ……. The nerve on you to think you can speak to me …………….

[asiogie]

since youve met and hugged dream is any particular smell or perfume that smells like him? pls asia im dying to know

this is gonna sound crazy but he just smells like Man

[stephenbyerley]

im gonna ask for the cute tboy server at works number today bc its our last overlapping shift and im gone after thursday so fuck it why not. pray for me not to make an ABSOLUTE fool of myself yall

[myatlantispoets]

I just wanna hear his voice again

[just-spacetrash]

😶‍🌫️

[cozybistro]

if you've followed me on vi's blog for a while, you know that i love perfume, fragrance, scents, etc. and, let me tell you gianni smells good. here's his top 3 fragrances:

kouros by saint laurent / top notes are aldehydes, coriander, clary sage, artemisia and bergamot; middle notes are patchouli, carnation, geranium, vetiver, cinnamon, jasmine, orris root and lavender; base notes are civet, honey, leather, musk, oakmoss, amber, tonka bean and vanilla.

rocabar by hermès / top notes are cedar essence, juniper, coriander, lemon and bergamot; middle notes are italian cypress, cedar, cardamom, carnation and violet; base notes are canada balsam, benzoin, oakmoss, vanilla and patchouli.

herod by parfums de marly / top notes are cinnamon and pepperwood; middle notes are tobacco leaf, incense, osmanthus and labdanum; base notes are vanilla, iso e super, cedar, musk, cypriol oil or nagarmotha and vetiver.

[yo9urt]

ssshhhgggffhjjjjjhhgggvffsss

[madamechrissy]

Gojo can't stop thinking about fucking Geto's girl

MDNI- Explicit-eventual smut-Yandere Gojo is obsessed with you, Geto's girlfriend

Part one here (got requests for pt 2, here it is!! rly just silly smut hehe)

Part Two

Satoru's pretty face is in a state of shock as you look over and see your own naked body on his phone. You blush furiously, walking over as Suguru's handsome face is in a scowl, swiping to the right, his mouth wide open. You come to look and see your ass right on Satoru's phone, gasping.

"You took that without me knowing!?" You demand now, crossing your arms and glaring at your boyfriend's best friend. He runs a hand through his silky white hair, blue eyes swirling as he pouts.

"I just think you're really pretty, is all. And Suguru used to share everything with me. Why can't he share you?" Satoru asks softly, coming closer now and brushing your hair back, only for Suguru to smack his hand.

"Satoru, you're so full of shit. No I'm not sharing her!"

"You're mean and greedy, Sugu. Can't even fuck anyone when I have to look at how pretty she is." Suguru's dark violet eyes narrow now, and you're right between the two extremely tall, extremely built men. Satoru is pouting, Suguru is scowling, and your heart is racing.

"Yes I'm greedy, she's the fucking best at everything."

"Rub it in why don't you!"

"I'm deleting these." You say then, snatching up his phone, and he smirks down at you with those pouty lips, leaning against his desk, far too close, you can smell his expensive cologne, a little brighter than Suguru's, his is a little more musky. They both smell good, shit.

"Go ahead, pretty, already have em in the cloud." He says with a grin, and you shove at him then, feeling the hard planes of his chest, and you both pause then. "Sugu, just once?" He asks softly, and Suguru sighs then, watching you both.

"Oh fine, just once. But you'll have to follow my rules." He says, shocking you, your mouth opens as you look back at him, and he chuckles a bit, hand settling at the nip of your waist, big hand burning your through the thin layer of your dress. "You want this, Princess?" He asks softly, and you look back at this psychotic Satoru Gojo, who's got puppy dog eyes, then back at your boyfriend.

"I mean... yes but... I haven't done anything like this..." You whisper, and Suguru gently cups your face.

"It's up to you, maybe we'll put this sad boy in a good mood." You giggle a bit at that, sighing, looking back at Satoru.

"How many times?"

"Have I jerked off to you?"

"Yes." Satoru grins then. "Fuck, maybe I don't wanna know?"

"Can't count em."

"Jesus, Satoru." Suguru grumbles, smacking his forehead now. "I need to smoke."

"Let's smoke, we can blow it on her pussy hmm?" Satoru says with a wicked grin, and you gasp.

"Blow weed smoke on me!?"

Suguru is chuckling, and you wonder at your boyfriend now, as they both stare down at you, eyes drinking in your body slowly. "She's so cute, isn't she Satoru?" Suguru says with a smirk, and you're starting to feel like a little deer in front of two wolves.

"So cute. Well... shall we?" Satoru holds out a hand to you, and Suguru smacks it, making Satoru glare, as he takes your hand instead.

"Rule number one, no holding her hand."

"You're mean!"

Before you know it, you're in the back of Suguru's car, as his driver is taking the three of you to his place. They're on either side of you, thighs spread too far, hands on your legs, Satoru's long pale fingers squeezing the plush of your thigh, Suguru's more tanned, thicker fingers pressing in gently. It's all too fucking much, them arguing like children over your pussy.

Why do you like it though!?

"You better let me eat her out." Satoru says, in the middle of their negotiations, and you throb around nothing, while he licks his full lower lip, staring right at your lap. Your thighs shift, and they both chuckle.

"Fine, she clearly wants to do that." Suguru teases you now with a wink, making you flush. "But you're using a condom."

Suguru says to Satoru, and he snorts. "Fuck that, I really need to hit it raw-"

"Um hello!? I'm here!" Satoru and Suguru smirk down at you again, both of their hands sliding up your thighs, their breaths against each ear, and you're shaking as you look up at Suguru, then at Satoru, seeing the insane hunger in their eyes. "You've done this before, haven't you both?"

"Not with someone as pretty as you." Satoru whispers, leaning close, so close you taste the mints on his breath. "What's the rule on kissing, Sugu?"

Suguru's now rubbing the fabric of your panties, already sticky with your desire, and he kisses on the side of your neck, tickling you, making you cry out. Satoru stares at your gorgeous face hungrily, as he pictures how it will look when he makes you cum, making him strain against his pants, so hard it hurts.

"You can kiss her, if she wants. Do you, Princess?" You nod weakly then, and Satoru Gojo's lips descend hungrily upon yours.

Shit, what were you in for!?

Disclaimer I guess- Yandere behavior isn't cool IRL, just in fiction with Gojo and Geto lmaoo <3

Wanna be tagged lmk!! @kakashixhatakesxwhore @sweetthingssourpeople @sylussss7 @teacupwaifu @nanasukii28 @chiyokoemilia @haruhatake @bunheadusa

Part Three is Here

[luveline]

hiiii if you’re still looking for remus centered requests, i rly liked your best friend steve giving reader a hickey and couldn’t help but think of Remus too! like him helping a shy reader not feel insecure about being the ‘inexperienced’ one of their friend group… by giving her some experience 👀💞? love ya lots!

love u thank u for requesting<3

—Remus gives you your first kiss, and then a little more than that. You know, between friends. fem, 1.2k

“Will anyone kiss me tonight, or shall I go unkissed, like some leper?” 

You laugh at Sirius’ drama. “It’s not so terrible,” you say, coming up the hallway behind him and James, your face bitten by the cold. 

“I know, my lovely little blueberry muffin,” Sirius croons, leaning back and prodding at your cheeks, the smell of cider stuck to him like a cloud, “how you remain unkissed is a mystery to me. Shall we fix that now?” 

Sirius is your friend, he doesn’t poke fun, but you flush nervously at his question. James grabs Sirius by the shoulders and yanks him away from you toward the kitchen, “Stop teasing!” 

“I’m not teasing! I would love to kiss you, sweetheart, just as soon as I can figure out which one of you is the real one,” Sirius says. 

Remus laughs and closes the front door, the last one in. He wraps his hand around your shoulders. “He’d be so lucky,” he says loudly, sending a sulking, pouting Sirius in the opposite direction, James on his tail in giggles promising to feed him some unbuttered toast if he doesn’t chill out. 

Remus’ arm falls behind your back. “Why does he act like that? Four drinks and he’s in love with everyone. He gets so urgent.” 

You confess slowly, “I can’t say I blame him. Sometimes… I wish someone would kiss me quite urgently, and I don’t even need to get drunk.”

“You do?” 

“Just because I’ve never had one doesn’t mean I don’t want one,” you say, “it’s really weird being the only one who doesn’t– who isn’t dating anyone.” You fluster at your confession, worried it’s too much to share, even while his thumb rubs affectionately into your shoulder. 

“I’m not dating anyone,” Remus says. 

“No, but, going for hookups and stuff–”

You falter as he laughs. “You want one night stands?” 

“No,” you say honestly, “but still. You’ve all done that stuff and I’m like, a twenty something loser.” 

“You listen to Sirius too much. You have an entire life to find someone to kiss you.” 

“I sort of want it now, though,” you say meekly. 

Remus laughs again, his arm wrapping tightly behind your back. You’ve both had a drink too, not tipsy like Sirius but the buzz of it perhaps the cause of your loosened tongue, and his easy touching, his teasing. He smiles down at you kindly, “You want a kiss, is that it?” he asks, “Sirius has upset you and a kiss will make it better?” 

You find you love the feeling of his chest pressed to yours, “I don’t know. It would be nice to have one just so he can stop talking about it.” 

He pulls you right into him and angles his face against yours like he’s going to kiss you, his laughing a soft warmth on the tip of your nose. “You want it right now?” he asks, his hand rubbing sweetly into your back. Layers of fabric feel useless; it’s like he’s caressing naked skin. 

“You can’t kiss me,” you say. 

“Why not?” 

“We’re friends.” 

“What’s a good kiss between friends?” He’s following your eyes, he knows all your tones, Remus wouldn’t play with you like this if he thought it wasn’t what you wanted.

“I won’t know how to do it,” you warn in a whisper, you’re reluctance clearly fading.  

“Well, you’re very pretty, so any bad kissing cancels out.” 

You bend into him as his arm pulls you up, your noses nearly touching, closing your eyes as he leans in. 

“You sure?” he asks. 

“Mm,” you hum, though he doesn’t kiss you until you nod. 

Your noses press together most of all, the strongest sensation, but then there’s heat as his lips part so slightly and press into yours. He kisses upward and you have the sense to keep pressing down, letting his soft kisses move you with him, like an ebbing wave. You take an instinctive step back and he pauses, until you attempt to kiss him again and prompt him into movement —he takes the lead. His hands grasp at your back like you’re water slipping through his fingers, letting a sound of pleasure filter from his lips into yours. 

It’s so peculiar. It’s like fireworks, like all the books and movies say, but it’s more. It’s so warm, and his lips are soft even as his kissing turns rougher, as he tilts his head to the side and his lips come apart against yours. Your hand climbs hesitantly against his side, then up, then stuck at the place just above his ribs. 

“Touch me,” he says gently, breaking the kiss as your breath comes fast, “wrap your arm around me, it’s alright.” 

“Am I hopeless?” you ask, placing your arm behind his shoulder and tipping back to see his face. 

He shakes his head, frowning, why is he frowning? “Hopeless?” he repeats. His hand comes up to your face, and that’s almost as bad as the kiss, the heat of his palm on your face and his thumb stroking over the slope of your cheek. He uses that movement to turn your head, and when he ducks in for another kiss, he murmurs, “No, I wouldn’t say hopeless,” the end of it lost on your lips. 

This kiss is rougher again. Your heart beats so loudly you can hear the thump of it in your ears as your eyes close and you attempt to fit a hundred wanted kisses into one. He just squeezes you close and returns your enthusiasm, until you can’t breathe, forced to hang your head over his shoulder as you pant for air. 

Remus kisses your neck. It’s a shock: you squirm at the sensation but let your head fall to the side as he does it again, not nearly as insistent as his lips had been on yours but something unsaid in the trail of his nose as it runs back up your neck and he kisses the skin below your ear. He slows, and slows, until he’s pulling away to stare at you. 

You lift yourself up, nonplussed. “I didn’t know it felt like that.” 

Remus shifts his hand from the side of your neck to the front, wiping at the marks of his kissing with his thumb where it wets your skin. “It doesn’t always.” He smiles at you with just a hint of smugness in his eyes. “I don’t suppose you want to know what a love bite feels like?” 

“Oi!” James calls from the kitchen. “What are you two doing?” 

You pull apart slowly from one another. You think he might’ve forgotten where you were, as did you. 

James catches the fall of Remus’ hand where it had been on your cheek and squints suspiciously. “What are you guys doing? I made toast.” 

You can’t look at him. Remus saves the day. “We’re looking for her earring.” 

“You won’t find it with the lights off.” He glares again with suspicion before turning back to the kitchen. “I didn’t even know she wore earrings,” he mutters. 

Remus gives you a sideways look. “Maybe I can show you what it feels like after?” he suggests, voice measured. 

“Between friends?” you ask. 

“No.” He puts his hand to the small of your back and gives you a gentle nudge down the hallway. “Not between friends.” 

[catscidr]

// how genshin men would kabedon you //

i. note — im stuck in bed because of cramps help me i wanted to be productive today but i can't Write Good…… so i wrote something self indulgent silly to get my mind off of the pain instead _(´ཀ`」 ∠) _ ueue ii. cw — fluff/crack, gn!reader, suggestive if you squint rly hard, you're shorter than them in the third part for convenience's sake, not rly proofread im melting

standard kabedon with one arm ↳ alhaitham, diluc, zhongli ˎˊ˗

immediately understood what you meant when you asked if he could “kabedon” you. he either he read about it somewhere or it’s just something he picked up from overhearing others talk about it in passing— you’d tease him for being “nosy” if you weren’t so flustered at the sight of him looking down at you with such a straight face.

your gaze travels down from his face, to his neck, to his bicep… close to you… and his forearm… that’s even closer to you… you’re so focused on his strong masculine arm that you don’t catch the slight blush tinting his cheeks.

whew. is it just you or is it getting hot in here?

standard kabedon but with both arms ↳ albedo, xiao, lyney ˎˊ˗

he either knew what a kabedon was already or you had to explain it to him and he… misunderstood a little bit.

or maybe he didn’t. maybe it was on purpose. maybe caging you in with both of his arms was what he was planning all along while you sheepishly explained what a kabedon entailed…!

or maybe he doesn’t want to admit that he zoned out while you were talking because all he thought about was how cute you looked, all flushed and embarrassed. yeah. that’s definitely not what happened. of course not

invades your personal space and backs you up into the wall without even using his arms ↳ pantalone, ayato, dottore ˎˊ˗

he pretended not to know what a was kabedon because’s he’s mean. while you tried to explain what it entailed (while sweating nervously from how hard he was staring at you), he slowly closed the distance between the two of you before you realized just how close he was.

he was taller than you, so he had to bend down at the waist to be at eye-level with you… and the action didn’t help your poor little heart. you could smell his cologne and gods did you feel your knees go weak.

but on the bright side, if your legs give out he’ll be close enough to catch you before you bust your head open! such a gentleman

forget using arms, he’ll use his leg to pin you to the wall instead ↳ itto, cyno, childe ˎˊ˗

why be like everyone else when he can show off instead? you think he might have been a bird in another life because this isn’t a kabedon, it has to be some sort of courting ritual or… something.

at least it’s working, though. your face is flushed, you’re holding back a smile and your heart is racing against your ribcage.

the only downside if that your face is buried in your hands; if it wasn’t, you’re sure your curiosity would get the better of you and you’d end up looking. don’t ask where, you know what i mean

….you kabedon him. ↳ wanderer, baizhu, neuvillette, webttore ˎˊ˗

he either straight up refused to do it or was so utterly puzzled by what on earth a “kabedon” even was that you had to show him.

cue a strained gasp, his brows either raised to the heavens or furrowed so hard he would immediately get wrinkles, and a blush that you would never let yourself forget. maybe you should do this more often.

but be careful, he might turn the tables and catch you off guard to kabedon you someday as payback. oh no! terrible, i know

[adispit]

Notes in the air

bttm m reader x punk guitarist

sypnosis: you meet a punk guitarist and tension seems to simmer in the air…

kinks: edging, orgasm denial, anal fingering, handjob, cream pie, public sex (not rly tbh)

note: week one of kinktober, enjoy!

Discipline had always been a part of your life when it came to playing the erhu. As the known virtuoso of the Shanghai Orchestra, you had been told that every note you made had to be with precision, grace and to be perfection, itself.

Your earliest memories were of disciplined practice sessions with your father, who’d been an erhu player himself. The one who had carved the essence of the elegance of playing the instrument into you through countless sessions.

That’s why the underground punk scene should have meant nothing to you.

And yet, here you are, standing on the edges of a dark, buzzing, dingy venue that stinks of sweat and alcohol. The sharp neon lights that seem to burn itself into your retinas, accompanied by the thick smoke that hangs in the air.

The sharp hum of an electric guitar fills the air, a stark contrast to the soft and calming melody of the orchestra that you’re used to.

You shift uncomfortably in your polished shoes, glancing at the stage, and that’s when you see him—Lan Yu, all messy hair streaked with electric blue, a cocky grin on his face as he commanded the air to come to a standstill with the raw and sharp energy of his guitar.

He’s nothing like you. And yet, for reasons you can’t explain, you can’t take your eyes off him.

You didn’t plan to stay. You didn’t even want to come. But a colleague convinced you—something about expanding your musical horizons. Something about meeting a special guitarist they had been raving about lately named Lan Yu.

Now you’re regretting it as you try to navigate the chaos around you, the crowd pressing in on all sides. The venue is too loud, too chaotic, and everything about it feels wrong.

But then, Lan Yu starts to play. And you stop thinking entirely.

His fingers fly across the strings of his guitar, each note wild and reckless, like he’s barely keeping control. It’s nothing like the disciplined movements you’re used to. It’s messy and raw and… captivating.

You don’t even realize how long you’ve been staring until the set ends, and people start to move around you. You feel out of place, unsure why you haven’t left yet.

And that’s when you hear his voice. Low, teasing, and far too close.

“First time at a punk show, huh?”

You blink, turning toward him, and find Lan Yu standing there, sweaty from his performance. He grins like he owns the world and is close enough that you can smell the faint trace of sweat and leather on him. His presence is magnetic, and it makes your chest tighten in a way you’re not used to.

You nod stiffly, trying to regain your composure. “It’s… different.”

Lan Yu laughs, a sound that sends an unexpected shiver down your spine. “Different good or different bad?”

You glance away, feeling oddly exposed under his gaze. “Different loud.”

His smirk widens, and he steps closer, the scent of leather and smoke lingering around him. “Yeah, you look like someone who prefers things a bit quieter. Don’t worry, 宝贝, you’ll get used to it.”

The nickname—sweet, playful, almost mocking—makes something stir in your chest, but you force your expression to stay neutral. “Don’t call me that.”

Lan Yu’s grin doesn’t falter. “What? You don’t like pet names? Relax, 宝贝, it’s just a little fun.”

There’s something about the way he says it, about the way he looks at you, that sets your nerves on edge.

You’re not sure if it’s annoyance or something else entirely.

You start showing up more often. You tell yourself it’s because of the music, because you’re curious about how someone like Lan Yu creates such… chaos. You didn’t really know if that was true though.

You find yourself watching him—watching the way his body moves when he plays, the way he commands the stage with a raw, unfiltered energy that sends the crowd into a frenzy.

The way sweat glistens on his skin under the harsh stage lights, the way his eyes would scan the crowd, sharp and alive, and sometimes, they would lock on yours, holding your gaze just a moment too long.

He always notices.

And every time he catches you staring, that smirk of his gets a little wider, a little more knowing.

One night, after another one of his explosive sets, you find yourself lingering near the back of the bar. You don’t know why. Maybe you’re hoping to slip away unnoticed, or maybe you’re hoping he’ll find you.

And of course, he does.

“You keep coming back,” Lan Yu says, appearing next to you like he always does—suddenly and without warning. “What’s the deal? You into punk now, or… something else?”

You glance at him, trying to keep your expression straight, but there’s no denying the way your heart quickens at the proximity between you. The tension hums in the air, electric, like the sound of his guitar. “I’m just… curious.”

Lan Yu raises an eyebrow, stepping closer, his voice dropping an octave. “Curious about me or the music?”

You shoot him an annoyed look, trying to ignore the way your heart seems to hammer against your rib cage, how your stomach seems to coil in on itself. “Does it matter?”

He laughs, low and rough, and the sound makes something twist in your stomach. “Not really. Either way, I win.”

Before you can respond, Lan Yu is suddenly much closer, his body heat palpable. “You’re way too serious, you know that?” he murmurs, his breath ghosting over your ear. “Mind telling why you keep coming huh, 亲爱的?”

Your heart is pounding now, mind racing. You try to stay calm, but Lan Yu’s closeness is doing things to you, stirring something he wasn’t sure he was ready to face.

”You’re… impossible,” you manage to squeak out, your voice coming out weaker than intended.

Lan Yu smirks, eyes flicking to your lips for a brief moment before meeting your gaze again. “And you’re too stiff.”

He brushes his fingers against your arm, the contact sending a jolt of electricity through you. “Loosen up, 宝贝. The world won’t end if you let yourself feel something.”

Despite everything, you start letting him into your world, too. You invite him to your rehearsals, curious to see how someone so wild would react to the world of traditional Chinese orchestra.

To your surprise, Lan Yu sits quietly in the back, watching you play with an intensity that unnerves you. He’s always so loud, so chaotic, but in those moments, he’s silent—focused on you, and only you.

One evening, after a performance, you catch him waiting for you outside the concert hall. The city lights casts a soft glow around him, making him look almost… ethereal, though you’d never tell him that.

“宝贝，你真是帅死了.” Lan Yu’s voice was low and teasing, but there was something darker in his eyes as he leaned against the wall, watching you with a lazy grin.

You roll your eyes, though the warmth in your chest betrays you. “Would you stop calling me that?”

“Nope.” Lan Yu smothers you into a tight embrace, and you catch a faint scent of his cologne, the world seemingly melting away. “Not until you stop blushing every time I do.”

Your breath hitches, and you turn away, hoping the dim light will hide the blush creeping up your neck. “别乱说话.”

Lan Yu chuckles softly, pressing his lips lightly to your temple before pulling back. “You don’t have to say anything,” he said, his voice dropping to a rasp. “I already know.”

The next few days, you try to immerse yourself back in your rehearsals, hoping that the familiar rhythms of the erhu will ground you again.

But Lan Yu has taken root in your mind, his voice, his touch, his teasing smile replaying in an endless loop that makes your pulse quicken at the most inconvenient times.

And Lan Yu? He isn’t making it any easier. He keeps showing up to your rehearsals, casually draped over a chair in the back, watching you with that infuriatingly smug grin, as if he knows exactly how much he is getting under your skin.

One evening, after the orchestra had finished for the night and the rehearsal hall was nearly empty, you find yourself alone with Lan Yu once again. The silence between the both of you is thick with unspoken words, tension almost unbearable.

“You’ve been quiet lately,” Lan Yu remarks, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife.

He stands near the window, the soft glow of the city lights behind him casting his features in sharp relief.

You look up from your erhu, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’ve been focused.”

“On what?” Lan Yu’s gaze is intense, like he can see right through your carefully constructed facade.

“On my music.” It is the truth, but even as you say it, you know it isn’t the whole truth. Your music has always been your anchor, but now it feels like something else has shifted, like your music has taken on a different meaning, tied up in the growing tension between you and him.

Lan Yu’s smirk softens into something more thoughtful as he crosses the room, coming to stand just in front of you.

His fingers trail along the edge of the instrument, a faint smile playing on his lips as he looks down at the delicate craftsmanship of the erhu.

“You know, there’s something beautiful about how precise you are,” Lan Yu murmurs, his voice lower now, almost intimate. “The way you hold the erhu, the way you control every note. But don’t you ever get tired of control?”

You can’t seem to muster any words to reply him. You know what Lan Yu is doing, but it doesn’t stop the effect it has on you.

“Control is necessary,” you reply, voice strained, though even you can hear the uncertainty creeping in.

Lan Yu’s eyes gleams as he leans in, closer now, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. “Is it? Or is it just an excuse to keep yourself from feeling too much?”

The question hits harder than you expected, and your grip on the erhu tightens. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mutter, though even you weren’t sure if you believed it.

Lan Yu doesn’t back down. Instead, he moves closer, until you can feel the heat of his breath against your neck. His hand comes up, fingers brushing lightly against your cheek, the touch sending a jolt of electricity through you.

“Maybe you just need someone to help you let go,” Lan Yu whispers, his lips barely an inch from your skin.

Blood is rushing to your head, breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. You can feel the pull between the both of you, the magnetic force that has been building for weeks, threatening to snap.

Your mind screamed at you to pull away, to reassert control, but your body… your body was betraying you.

Without thinking, you reach out, grabbing the front of Lan Yu’s shirt, pulling him close. For a moment, you are chest to chest, the air between him and you charged with unspoken desire.

Lan Yu’s eyes darkens, his grin fading into something far more serious as he looks down at you. “Finally,” he breaths, his voice rough with need.

Before you can second-guess yourself, Lan Yu closes distance between him and you, his lips crashing against yours with a hunger that had been simmering just beneath the surface for too long.

The kiss is messy, intense, all the tension that had been building, finally breaking free.

Your hands are fisted in Lan Yu’s shirt, pulling him closer as you kiss back with an urgency that surprises even him.

The sharp edge of the erhu digs into your side, but you don’t care.

All you can focus on is the taste of his lips, the feel of his body pressed against yours, the way Lan Yu’s hands grips your waist, grounding you and setting you on fire all at once.

When you finally pull apart, both of you are breathing heavily, eyes locked. Lan Yu’s lips are swollen, his eyes half-lidded with desire as he looked at you like he wanted to devour you whole.

“See?” Lan Yu whispers, his voice rough, his thumb brushing gently across your bottom lip. “Letting go doesn’t feel so bad, does it?”

You don’t answer, can’t answer, not with the way your heart is pounding, not with the way Lan Yu’s hand has slipped under your crisp, ironed shirt, fingers tracing the skin of your waist in a way that leaves you breathless.

Lan Yu chuckles softly, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. “I’m not going anywhere, 宝贝. You might as well admit you want this.”

Your chest tightens, torn between the desire to maintain control and the overwhelming urge to give in Lan Yu.

Lips parting, but before you can utter a single word, Lan Yu’s mouth is on yours again, kissing you deeper, more insistent, like he is determined to make you surrender completely.

A muffled whine slips out as you press yourself flush against Lan Yu. The fabric of the his ripped jeans feels hot as you feel it rub against your fevered thighs through your dress pants.

You sag into the arm wrapped around the small of your back. All of your joints feel like jelly at the soft touch caressing you.

Your erhu lies on the floor, forgotten. You can’t believe you’re doing this, doing this in a hall you just performed a solo in front of your father an hour ago. He would be furious.

“Pay attention, 宝贝.” Lan Yu shrugs at your shirt as you stare at him dazedly through your eyelashes. The cold air hits your feverish skin as you shed your pants, pulling a sharp gasp from your spit slicked lips.

Your leaking cock springs out, begging for his attention, earning an amused huff from him. His thumb snags at the tip of your dick as it circles, collecting precum.

“Please- hahh, oh god.” You keen, all semblance of propriety leaving you as you throw your head back, hands digging into his shoulders with the concert lights shining down at you above.

You feel the oncoming orgasm approaching like a tidal wave about to consume you in its entirety as Lan Yu wraps his rough, calloused hand around your sensitive cock and picks up in pace.

Your nerves are alight, like a firework soaring through the night sky as a choked cry is ripped from you, echoing through the hall.

Suddenly, it stops.

The high you were riding on suddenly crashes into the cold hard ground as you’re left reeling in confusion.

A crushed, strangled sound leaves your lips.

“Lan Yu, w-what was that for?” Your flushed face is pulled into a confused frown.

“Sorry, 宝贝. Can’t have you coming so soon.” Lan Yu lets out a throaty laugh, hands settling into the dips of your back, making your hips jerk as you swallow down an angry protest.

You’re gently guided to grip the hard plastic handles of a nearby seat with arms that feel boneless as your ass is presented before his roving eyes.

His slender fingers, used to strum the guitar, are coated with your precum, which prods and breaches your rim. Two of them continue their way into you, pressing forward with gently, twisting lightly each time they meet a spot of unyielding tightness.

Lan Yu manages to sink in the whole length of his middle and forefinger into you, the pads of his fingers dancing over your prostate, your quiet whimpers shifting to continuous groans as you grip onto the cold plastic, hips quaking.

“Ah-Ah-Ah! L-Lan Yu!” A series of choked sobs are ripped from your throat, voice shattering.

“Not yet, 宝贝.” He soothes, fingers now replaced by an emptiness that seems to gnaw away at you. You’re just barely teetering over the cliff into pure ecstasy, inciting a raw sob from you, body burning up like a livewire.

Before you can even catch your breath, Lan Yu sheathes himself into your warmth in one go. The stretch burns, feels so good. “好乖啊，宝贝.” Lan Yu purrs, chest heaving and sweat soaking his top as he pulls back and meets your rippling flesh.

Moisture gathers in the corners of your eyes as you writhe in tandem with his thrusts just dragging against your prostrate perfectly. Your chest rises and falls rapidly under the new onslaught, each exhale punctuated with a moan.

You’re barely holding on by an inch now, nails scratching at the plush material of the seat as you twitch and buck at the ministrations chipping away at you.

“Close…!” Your voice cracks sharply.

“听话.” Lan Yu groans, nails painted black raking down your sides as he loses himself in the tight, warm heat of your insides repeatedly clenching and unclenching around his cock.

“Let’s come together, 宝贝.” He adds as he slams into you, burying his dick deep in your ass as the rhythm of his thrusts began to stutter.

You hum out an incoherent slur through the haze of lust that seems to cloud at your mind and render you mute, as drool trails down your chin. You’ve been reduced to a squirming mess, ready to burst at any moment.

Finally, Lan Yu stops and hot cum paints your hot, pulsing walls as he lets out a low growl of satisfaction. Then there’s the moment where you freeze, scrabbling at the edge, before tipping over. Your whole body jerks violently and you arch your back impossibly as you finally feel the sweet release.

“Lan Yu!” You let out a hoarse yelp.

The first pulse is a hot dribble, and then your cock splatters cum all over the seat, the floor. Strings of semen paint everything in white as you come and come, crying out brokenly.

“K-kiss me…” You growl frustratedly as you weakly glare at him, no bite in your voice as you bask in the afterglow of your well-deserved orgasm. “And no more doing this at the concert hall!” You add, as he presses you into a chaste kiss that muffles his laugh.

Translations and more!

宝贝 - baby

亲爱的 - my love

宝贝，你真的是帅死了 - baby, you’re so amazing (literal translation is handsome but in this context he’s praising you)

别乱说话 - don’t speak nonsense

好乖啊，宝贝- baby, you’re so obedient

听话 - be obedient

Lan Yu’s name in Chinese is 蓝羽.

The erhu (二胡) what reader plays is a Chinese two-stringed bowed instrument. Here’s a reference.

note: that’s week one of kinktober!!! Lan Yu is such a dream honestly haha, he’s one of my more green flag ocs!

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated 🫶

[anime-grimmy-art]

Undead Unluck has no freaking business having such a cute couple dynamic with such an insane plot and wild character design.

Like, watching Fuuko's and Andy's relationship grow from Andy just teasing/wanting to use her, to him actively trying to make her fall for him to get the best death ever, to them just naturally starting to grow together as characters and just, respecting each other and actually learning to love the other, like, hurghhh!! Why is it so good??? Andy is literally insane yet he has a more mature and stable relationship with Fuuko than most other protagonists?!?

Also, the way the mangaka draws them constantly being physically so close is gonna kill me. Like, yeah, during the fights Fuuko's gotta play Koala to get her unluck on him, but there's rly no reason for the two of em to be all over each other out from battle (i mean, before they obviously start to like each other). I just keep thinking back on that one plane scene, where they literally have a whole plane for themselves, yet Fuuko naps in Andy's lap and cluthes his tie.

A man who looks like he smells of stale cigarette smoke should not be allowed to be adorable istg.

[janitorhutcherson]

i'm totally NOT touch starved so IM TOTALLY NOT asking for peeta mellark and touch starved reader... totally NOT. (i love your writing sm ☺️)

i am FINALLY giving the people what they want!! i know this isn't a whole fic/imagine but instead headcanons, BUT! it is finally peeta. i promise there will be more peeta content in the future. im working my way through the movies again and im about to reread the books, i want to be accurate about his portrayal so y'all feel like its more realistic, but here is a lil taste of what is to come! i rly hope you enjoy <3 btw!! this takes place after EVERYTHING in the books. ur basically katiness.

• Peeta is a huge softy, he's cuddly, loving, affectionate, and definitely touch starved himself. He's the type of guy to mostly have his own contact with you in some way. Sometimes he will grip onto your arm, he'll have his arm around your shoulder or your waist, or even just grip onto your shirt. When you're sitting on the couch, he opts to sit hip to hip even when the entirety of the couch is empty. When you're not cuddling in bed, you're facing opposite sides, sleeping butt-to-butt. Even with that being said, sometimes Peeta needed some space, his own bubble. You, however, did not love that.

• This is exactly why it was somewhat difficult for Peeta to understand touchstarved!reader. Regardless of how close you were, you needed more. Anytime you're walking in the district, rather it's to pick up some ingredients for the bakery or simply a leisurely walk, if he opted not to hold on to you in some way, you'd freak a little. You'd grip onto his hand, either squeezing it in yours or holding onto his larger fingers.

• Whenever dishes were being done or chores were tended to, you would wrap your arms around his waist from behind or follow him at the heel. You were desperate for his attention, his affection, his touch. Without it, you felt cold and disconnected. His touch pleased the ache that prickled against your skin from years of desperately wanting to be held.

• At night, you'd squeeze up under his arm. Your head would be tucked into his armpit, your arms wrapped around him as you tugged him close, closing your eyes and taking in his smell. When you'd fall asleep facing away from each other, Peeta wouldn't even notice you flip over to face him once he was fast asleep, curling up against him, squeezing him tightly like your life depended on it.

• In all honesty? It felt like your life did depend on it. You were a tribute alongside with Peeta, you'd both been through hell and back together. You had nightmares and he was the only one that could ground them. Part of your touch starved desperation came from the times you were alone, afraid, for yourself, for your lover. It was difficult.

• A lot of nights Peeta would ensure he'd hold you close, all too aware that he was the cure to your nightly insanity. This made you feel better, softer, warmer. On days when you were simply cuddling in bed together, you felt like you couldn't get enough. Your legs would be tangled with his, your foreheads touching, arms wrapped around one another. But nothing felt good enough. In instances like these, you would climb into his shirt, sticking your head through the hole for his own head, one that was stretched out from the many times you'd done this, one he specifically designated as his lounge shirt for this reason. Other times you would both strip your clothes off, cuddling skin to skin while Peeta would stroke your hair, pressing soft kisses to your forehead.

• All in all, Peeta is a gentle and caring lover, understanding of your needs. He'd do his best to meet them, even when it meant staying glued to your hip. He loved you, the history you two had, the stuff you'd been through, and he'd do anything to ensure your happiness and your safety. After all, you were who saved him, who kept him grounded as well, the love of his life... but, his thoughts are for another story.

[midnightwriter21]

can we have the first meet soulmate thing for sorcerer! reader please?? w gojo only

jjk hcs: satoru meeting sorcerer!soulmate!reader

characters: satoru gojo x reader, megumi (mentioned), yuji (mentioned), nobara (mentioned)

warnings: u kill a cursed spirit, possible injury but not rly, mature language (reader cusses gojo out lmfao), the kids & reader lowkey bullying gojo lol, gojo is kinda suggestive at the end

AN: soulmate au where the first words your soulmate says to you are tattooed somewhere on your body!! read the non-sorcerer version HERE

SATORU GOJO

being called in as back up for a mission involving a 2nd grade cursed spirit was not on ur to-do list today

but guess where you are!!

an empty mall!!

an empty mall where you’re currently watching 3 teenagers run around like headless chickens

the curse is ugly… as most of them are but..

this one is NASTY looking

several different colored eyeballs sticking out of various places on its body

it’s oozing some sort of greenish brown liquid

and the smell

dear lord it’s bad

the poor pink haired kid is simultaneously holding his nose and trying to fight the curse with one hand

and it’s main attack seems to be the ability to spit that greenish brown liquid at whoever it’s attacking, rendering them immobile

almost like a glue trap for mice

the curse backs the three kids into a corner and prepares to spit that sticky liquid at them

and that’s when you decide to make your entrance

jumping from the second floor of the mall, in front of the kids, and drawing your weapon

you block the attack and jump towards the curse

severing it’s head and therefore exorcising it in one quick movement

you sheathe your weapon and turn to the kids, “why the hell are you three taking on a 2nd grade mission?”

the pink haired boy from earlier explains, “our sensei was supposed to be with us but when we split up he went to the food court… and uhhh… we haven’t seen him since.”

you give the kids a sour look, “your sensei must be a complete moron”

all at once the kids agree

“he is” -the girl with the hammer

“yeah, pretty much” -the boy with the black spikey hair

“i mean.. kinda, sometimes” -the pink haired boy

you sit the kids down on a bench so that you can check over them and access any possible wounds

mama bear mode activated.

you ask the boy, who you now know as megumi, to get in touch with his sensei

when his sensei answers the phone, megumi explains that the curse has been exorcised

but before he can explain about your presence, you snatch the phone from him and let out a string of expletives directed towards the man on the other end

“you must be a fucking idiot huh? your kids could’ve died taking on a 2nd grade alone and you’re off being an irresponsible jackass somewhere-“

before you can continue you hear the dial tone

he hung up on you

without even saying a word

nearly growling in anger you shove the phone back to megumi and move over to yuji

you take his hands in yours and begin to wrap his hands in bandages saying, “you know, if you keep punching through walls you’re going to end up really hurting your knuckles”

as you wrap his hands you’re not really paying attention to your surroundings, so the smug voice coming from behind spooks you a little…

“it’s good that a pretty little thing like you came to the rescue or else my kids could’ve died since i was off being an irresponsible jackass”

he’s throwing your own words back in your face

whipping your head around fast enough to give yourself whiplash, you prepare to launch into another ass chewing

but your words get stuck in your throat when you’re met with a tall, blindfolded, white haired man

a man known to everyone in the jujutsu world

Satoru Gojo

in response to your stunned silence he lets out a chuckle, “what? cat got your tongue, pretty?”

his mocking snaps you back into reality as you fire back, “no, i’m just surprised on how someone like you can be such a complete and utter dumbass!”

“awww cmon is that the way you’re supposed to talk to your soulmate?” he smirks down at you

you give him a confused look before it hits you

his first words to you from earlier…

“it’s good that a pretty little thing like you came to the rescue or else my kids could’ve died since i was off being an irresponsible jackass”

those exact words are printed on your back underneath your shoulder blade in neat handwriting

looking up at him with wide eyes, you watch as he turns his back to you, pulling off his uniform jackets and lifting up his shirt

ignoring the faint gagging sounds from his students

and there it is, printed in the exact same spot as yours, in your handwriting

“you must be a fucking idiot huh? your kids could’ve died taking on a 2nd grade alone and you’re off being an irresponsible jackass somewhere-“

“no. fucking. way.” you say in disbelief as he turns back to face you

“you have a dirty mouth, sweetheart,” he leans in and whispers softly in your ear, “can’t wait to see just how dirty it can get,” he leans back and says in his normal voice, “but we’ll save that for later!”

[oceansblvds]

You and Coryo being Academic rivals, one day you're arguing in class too much and highbottom kicks you out and tells you to figure it out and come back once the two of you finally get along - however you keep arguing until the tension is too much and you end up making out in halls of the academy. 👀 also imagine highbottom catching you and being so over it like "that's not what i meant when i told you to get along"

perhaps.... had too much fun with this LOL

warning(s): nothing rly. kissing?

you and coriolanus had never been close, you were both convinced that the only thing you had in common was where you two both stood academically. you two were both at the top of the class together, the dean even said it himself, there was no way of distinguishing who was higher than the other because of how close you two were grade wise. both of you always got essays and tests back with one hundred percents, both of you were always the last two people in the library when it was almost midnight (always on opposite sides of the room), and the both of you absolutely hated it. you both hated that you couldn't best each other. the arguing never stopped, the bickering getting on everyones nerves. some people thought that you two would be good friends if you just talked to one another, but no way, not when he was your worst enemy. or so it seemed.

it had gotten so bad that the two of you were even arguing in front of teachers. the most recent time, when everything changed, you two were arguing over something to do with calculus. you were solving complex, two variable integrals and he was committed to telling you how wrong you were about the way that you had solved it on the whiteboard. although the teacher had given the class time to solve problems with your table while she talked with the dean, who had stepped in to have a private word, their talk was interrupted when the dean told you that you two needed to take a breather, and learn how to talk to each other without ripping each other to shreds.

you were fuming, walking out of the classroom before him and stepping into the hallways. you could hear his footsteps behind you, and when you were far enough away, in a hallway that didn't have any classrooms and was instead lined with shelves of past academic pictures, you turned around. "what do you want," you asked him, standing in the middle of the hallway. coriolanus looked almost amused by how pissed off you were. "you know, you ruin everything," you said. "i've never been kicked out of a classroom before until you." your words were venom.

then he began talking. about how you drove him crazy with how smart you were, and how much you liked to rub it in his face. "i just wish that for once you could shut your fucking mouth," coriolanus said to you. he had gotten closer, his breath fanning your face as he towered over you. this close to him and you could smell the faintness of roses, you could see the smile lines on his face, the tiniest bits of freckles dotting his skin. you hated him. you hated how beautiful he was. and so, giving the faintest of a smirk, you stated, "make me."

and although what happened next was a wrong move, on both of your parts who were so keen on keeping appearances and your reputation in toe. put coriolanus grabbed your shoulder and waist, slamming you into the wall of the hallway. you didn't pull away, instead pushing your lips towards his almost as fast as he did the same thing. he muttered something about how he knew how to shut you up against your lips, barely giving you enough time to breath between heated kisses. it was rough, bruising even, like he was trying to consume your soul. his lips were so soft, pissing you off enough at their perfectness that you nipped at them, sucking the bottom one into your teeth and biting. he hissed at the feeling, pulling away for just a moment, panting, and putting his finger to his lip that had a little blood splattered on it. instead of saying something, he kissed you even harsher, tongue pressing into your mouth and slotting between your tongue and the roof of your mouth.

coriolanus' hands were in your hair, pulling it harshly down to gain better access to your lips, his other hand pressing into your hip to keep you against the wall. your hands were on his back and around his neck, fingernails scratching against his pristine skin that gave him goosebumps.

the two of you stayed like that, kissing and basically morphing into one complete enigma for who knows how long. long enough that both of you heard someone clear their throat. it was dean highbottom, looking at the two of you like you were crazy. your cheeks burned, thinking that this was it, you were going to be kicked out of school and you would never have a life ever again. instead, he just looked at the two of you for another moment as coriolanus pulled away, leaving you against the wall. "when i told you to get along . . ." dean highbottom said, turning on his heel to walk away, "that's not what i meant."

you two got detention for a week.

at least afterwards the two of you could continue to get along.

[ohsunnyboy]

stopping me now | jung sungchan ˚₊‧⁺˖

early mornings, bitter coffee and jung sungchan, all staples of your office life until one morning goes wrong just right

TAGS: office!au, gn!reader, romcom type of vibe, forced proximity, strangers to lovers, sorta mutual pining, awkward!reader who is rly intense abt their spreadsheets

A/N: office au is my fav au so sungchan in one is my ultimate self-indulgence! sorry it's been a while :] (first riize fic let's goooo)

WORDS: ~1950

Jung Sungchan is missing.

Ding! 

You don't actually know each other. Counting the months, it's been almost a year of standing in silent acknowledgement within this tiny elevator. In fact, you shouldn't even know his name! You only managed to find it out when he dropped his lanyard when you two were clocking out, and you picked it up for him, but he only blushed, yelped his thanks and ran!

Was he hiding unapproved invoices? was his department over budget? you swear that the accounting department isn't that scary!

Ding!

Should standing in an elevator for nearly fifteen minutes count as your morning commute? It really shouldn't but here you are. The coffee in your hands went cold about 5 floors ago, the usual ache in your feet is starting to kick in, and you can feel the humidity wreaking havoc on your hair. You really do want to curse out the big shot who thought that having offices on the 40th floor was a good idea. Partly, you think that Sungchan would also curse them out as well.

By floor thirty something, you almost fall asleep before a familiar sight steps into the lift. And unfortunately enough, he looks to be in the same state as you are.

Ready to murder, or be the first one to die in said horror film. You wonder if Sungchan likes horror movies too. Every office worker should: it gets the stress out very well. In fact, he might’ve been staying up late watching them; the bags under his eyes really don’t compliment the lack of caffeine in his hands. You almost feel half tempted to give him your own cold cup to help tide his morning over.

Sungchan slots right into place at the back of the elevator next to you. His broad shoulders knocking into you slightly due to the cramp of the lift.

After a year of it, you’d like to think you’re used to the space he takes up in your life; physically and mentally.

The thing is, for a guy that works an office job, Jung Sungchan is not a bad looking man at all. Always looking like he's attending the first day of school with a pressed collar and ironed tie, it's hard to look... and not fall in love with him in the process. Never once in your commuting life have you ever seen a hair out of place on him. He's closest you've ever physically gotten to the picture of corporate happiness and 100% customer satisfaction, while you get into daily arguments with your Excel spreadsheet.

Ding!

A trolley of files comes wheeling into the cube of claustrophobia, forcing you to squeeze further into the corner until you find yourself between a cold corner and a warm place. The thought of whatever department’s budget goes flying out the window when — Ah.

The smell of citrus falls over you like a waterfall. Sungchan’s cologne must be dumped in his hair because it’s suddenly all you know. It makes you dizzy, so much so, that you barely notice him sheepishly grinning down at you. He’s leant on his forearm, next to your head, caging you in, and his other is desperately trying not to dig his messenger bag into your side.

"So sorry about this," he whispers. It feels conspiratorial in the tight space, but almost everyone else has earbuds in and probably have bigger things to worry about.

You tilt up to look at him, not forgetting to linger on the long column of his throat exposed by his grey suit. "S'fine,” you mumble up to him, sorely aware of the way his wide eyes stare into yours. "Nice to meet you?" you eke out. You try and go for casual and smooth, but your heart sounds like a clattering of the subway: raucous in your ears.

Maybe it has been a year of pining away. Staring after Sungchan and his unfairly good proportions and rolling mountain shoulders. You don’t know how the PR interns haven’t already kidnapped him to make some sexy corporate calendar. However, you do know that it would increase revenue for the entire first quarter and save you about 10 less board meetings on budget caps. The content of said photoshoots is all you can dazedly think about as he shifts again, shuffling further into the wall and further into your mental mess.

Ding!

Sungchan’s smile is wicked as it breaks you from your thoughts. "Lovely to meet you, elevator buddy." And he sends you an overconfident wink for your efforts – with a small blush to dash. “Would love to shake your hand but, we’re ah – a bit occupied.”

You quirk a brow. “Elevator buddy?”

Sungchan’s grin doesn’t relent, even at your scrunched expression. "I've spent the past year calling you that, you're not stopping me now.” He says the last bit under his breath, as the lady with the trolley backs up even further into him and pushes him impossibly closer to you. His lips end up skimming your forehead and sending an involuntary chill down your spine, while your right hand ends up flat on his chest, your left jammed awkwardly into your side with your coffee.

Pull it together, please God, pull it together.

“The last year?” Is all you can get out coherently. It’s impossible to take deep breaths when every thought in your head is being thrown out of a metaphorical window. Citrus and smoke, hands and lips, months and quarters. This elevator crush is going to haunt you for life if you go back to silence after all this. Stop asking questions damn it!

Sungchan hums, the sensation sinking into your bones. “It’s about then, no? It was my first time in the building because it was the BigHit and Pledis merger last year,” he says, awfully fond. “You had a massive dossier of balance sheets, and I crashed into you in the elevator lobby because you never saw me. Your papers went everywhere!” Sungchan trails off in a laugh, however your mind starts taking very careful steps back into the past…

You barely remember last year. Only the stress piling up on your table from one too many days working after hours in the quiet with Eunseok. The grid lines of spreadsheets permanently etched onto your screens and into your retinas. Neither company was willing to give an inch for each other in spite of the whole “merger” idea, forcing far too many revisions, far too close to the deadline those prissy higher ups set. And so, the entire fate of departments rested on your two heavily overworked shoulders.

Running into someone like Sungchan would have never crossed your mind then. Being all wrapped up in your stress, there was no way you’d pay that much attention to a pretty face. One incident in particular though… ding!

“Wait… you’re the one that spilt their pretentious oat milk chai latte on the finalised budget reports?!” You don’t even know if that was his actual drink order but all you remember was flying into a fit of red rage when green bled all over your precious, freshly printed work.

To hell with kissing him; a kiss with your fist was way more overdue. 

Sungchan practically squawks as he jumps to justify himself. “I didn’t spill anything! I just accidentally walked into you and the papers – and my latte ­– went flying! Not my fault.” His hand snakes down from the wall and onto yours resting on his chest. If you could physically look him in the eyes, you’d be sure there’d be some fire of determination in them.

Now, it’s his heartbeat, clattering under your ear like the ticking of keycaps; it’s his heat, sticking his shirt under your palm like tack; it’s his voice, shaking like an intern at the barest critique. His hand dwarfs yours: long fingers tracing the lines of yours. 

Your temper matches in step with your heart, beating against your mind in double time. “Do you know how long it takes to print double sided for a full dossier?! All of it to end up on the floor, covered in your hipster green tea latte! I have full authority to half whatever budg—"

Ding!

— “Hey, you two, this is your floor.” The tired voice of general manager Kim Doyoung chirps in. Red floods your face at the thought of someone watching you lose your head. Nevertheless, Doyoung watches on with a boredom only he could achieve. “You, save the death threats for feedback week, and Sungchan — don’t mess with someone from accounting.”

Sungchan takes the hint and peels himself off you, the smell of citrus still making you dizzy. The crowd barely parts, but he uses his size, pushing the way for the both of you. His enormous hand holding yours through the crowd and guiding you out of the cube of stress. When the doors whir shut behind you, he takes your empty coffee cup and dumps it into the bin.

Never would you think you’d be left hand in hand with Sungchan in an isolated elevator lobby. He’s still clasped onto you with a vice grip: his heat searing into your palms like hot iron. It burns being this close. The buzzing AC in the lobby being the only thing keeping you alive.

Nobody talks for a second, letting the silence say it’s piece before your mouth starts moving before you’ve processed what it’s doing. "If anyone reports us to HR, I am so so sorry.”

Sungchan takes a breath, blinking those wide doe eyes at you before his face splits into a grin. “No, don’t worry. I don’t think Doyoung-hyung will kick up much fuss,” he smiles.

Only now do you remember Doyoung is the head of HR and your heart kicks into double time again, but how is Sungchan so calm about this? As if reading your mind, he squeezes your hand to reassure you before dropping your it. “Stop looking so worried! Just look.” He pulls his lanyard out from where he usually stashes it in his breast pocket, and you nearly trip over your feet when you see it.

"I am HR." What the hells.

The look on your face must give it all away as Sungchan’s laugh echoes in the empty elevator lobby. And hells, the kid – is he even younger than you?? – knows he’s got you wrapped around his finger. "Maybe I will just file a complaint,” he says with a smile. “What was that again? Threatening to half our department budget?”

He tilts his head all coy like he’s not the one at fault here. The audacity, really. You shake your head in mild disbelief and shrug off your nerves. Oh, you know what? Might as well go for it. What’s stopping you now? Definitely not HR.

"Bold words from someone who singlehandedly setback the entire Bighit-Pledis merger back by a whole day,” you counter, head raised in even challenge. Sensible accountant alarm bells are ringing in your mind, but you clamp down on them. “Shouldn’t you, be making up to me?”

It’s your turn to fan your lashes and pout your lips. Savouring in the way he pretends to think and avoid staring at your pouted lips.

"There might just be something..." His long fingers pull you in by the lapels, just a hair away. A blush must flush all the way down you from the way his eyes light up. You watch his lips curl into that grin of his, already thinking about what’s next. Citrus and smoke, hands and lips, months and quarters.

"Not here, sweetness." And his smile is just as deadly as yours.

Fuck the spreadsheets. You’ve got a private meeting in board room #127 with corporate happiness.

hope i haven’t lost my touch :) thanks sm for reading and if you enjoyed, a reblog would be nice to help encourage more <3 ⭒ masterlist