#{ i hope this works !! let me know if you'd like me to change anything !! }

[olderthannetfic]

I hate that deleting fic is so stigmatized. Yeah, when my shitty pharmacy wouldn't give me my meds for ten days, I had a manic depressive episode and deleted something. Sorry that makes me evil or entitled or trying to milk the audience for sympathy. You'd think putting it back up and apologizing would be enough. You'd be wrong. People keep chiming in to let me know this was manipulative. They let me know they won't be reading any more of it. They say they know someone who's Bipolar and their friend's Bipolar Disorder isn't like this so I'm faking for internet sympathy. Thanks to my selfish "attention whoring" they've lost comment threads they loved rereading and it's my fault.

Everyone says they're sympathetic to mental health issues. Then you make one single mistake that annoys them. And then it turns out you're unforgivable. They had to go a whole two days without one story. I had to go ten days without medication that keeps me sane and stable during the election and I didn't self-harm, I didn't try to kill myself and I didn't do anything self-destructive. But I briefly deleted a story.

I'm honestly thinking about making a new AO3 account and, after I finish this story, just swapping over to a new account. I'm tired of being treated like shit.

--

Listen, a fuckton of artists throughout history have destroyed their work for mental health reasons. Their personal friends did care about their mental health. Strangers care about their art.

These commenters are being rude, but you are hoping for something that is unlikely.

Make a new account if you want to escape these specific people. Don't expect the stigma around destroying art to change.

[aletheialed]

The Chief Prosecutor from overseas, Miles Edgeworth... at first, Rayfa had come here to see him for a completely different reason to the one that's taking up all of her attention now.

Honestly, she doesn't remember the man particularly well. It's no surprise - she was in such an awful state during the time that she'd spent with him that she barely gave him a second thought with everything that had been on her mind. But he'd been kind to her - she remembers that, and she'd wanted to thank him for it. There may have been other reasons for her seeking him out, too, but right now... Rayfa has forgotten about all of them for one very specific reason: the mystery that she's determined to solve.

That is to say - the question of whatever it is she's been experiencing whenever Miles Edgeworth is nearby.

If you were to put her on the spot, she'd say it feels like spiritual power. But that makes no sense. For one thing, Rayfa has never heard of a man having spiritual power! ...Though until recently, she hadn't thought that anyone from outside of Khura'in could channel spirits... and so much of what she'd believed about the spiritual world had been wrong that it would hardly surprise her to learn if she was mistaken about more. Still - it's strange enough to have made her second guess herself. Then, there's her next source of doubt - the fact that Rayfa can't even channel spirits yet herself yet. So can she really trust herself to accurately discern what she's feeling to begin with...?

To be honest, she hates it - being so unsure of herself. It brings up bad memories in her... uncomfortable feelings that she'd hoped she had finally got rid of. But that's exactly why she's so determined to figure this mystery out right now - so much so that it takes her three times until she realized her name has been called by the man she's been staring at for the past half a minute.

"Oh! Ummm...." Suddenly, Rayfa feels awfully embarrassed. Not that she has anything to be embarrassed by, of course! Her curiosity is completely reasonable, and as the future Queen of Khura'in, she is obviously one hundred percent justified of wanting to get to the bottom of this matter!

"Mr. Chief Prosecutor! Did you- say something to me just now?"

@demon-prosecuted ( starter for edgeworth! )

[sangreprince]

Starter Calls | Accepting | @pitgritted

❝ Uhm... Not quite sure how I got here, but it seems I have the wrong address. ❞

Not every day did he stumble into an active arena. Perhaps in Elysium, but not the mortal world. He was already fatigued, and it had only been a few minutes. Exerting himself in any capacity was difficult on the surface, and yet he still held his own in bloody fashion. Good show, though. Supposed that was what happened when mortals decided to square off against a God, albeit one out of his element. Somewhat breathless, he gave a small wave to the half-breed Vastaya who watched from his booth.

❝ Sorry for getting your arena messy. Now if you simply point me towards the nearest point of exit, I'll be on my way... I have to go water my mothers flowers and I have perhaps an hour to do so. ❞

[lielove]

@apotelexma || sc.

there was a certain place that ai always went to get the berries for her pokémon's poffins. it was her ( self proclaimed ) secret berry grove . . . a place that was, in actuality, just a small grove off the beaten path, she hadn't seen anyone there before, though . . .

. . . at least not until today !!

the sight of another almost takes her by surprise, but she masks it well with her usual bright and cheery smile.

❝ i don't think i've seen another person here before !! ❞ she giggles as she approached she other person, ❝ the berries here. . . they make the best poffins !! ❞

[starsmuserainbow]

[[ Starter for @ofteaandmagic !]]

Things had absolutely not gone as planned. Starfire went in when she found some hints of bad things going on, and started off well in the fight too. Until the enemy used some form of whip-like weapon, and when that came into contact with Starfire's arms as she blocked an attack, something started to feel very bad very quickly. Her arms itched, at first, and then it became a burning on the inside - and not the energizing version of that that her energy usually gave her - and she had to land on the ground and stop attacking. She could probably consider herself lucky that the villain seemingly found it more important to leave than to finish her for good.

Now, here she was, having managed to make it into the streets despite her state, and looking for someplace to find help. She couldn't quite fully take in what which building she came across was, but the first one that looked like a shop (perhaps a flower shop? She did take note of 'garden' being part of the name), Starfire stumbled into. She was walking bent over, much more slumped in her posture than she usually was, and it was like every step was a huge effort to make, a little more so every time. Still, she forced herself forward further, until she saw someone behind the counter. "Help me... please..." She croaked out, needing the same amount of effort for speaking that walking had taken out of her. Something was draining all energy and stamina from her, and that really wasn't good.

[starvingtongue]

@companywrath

they had had plenty of guns pointed at them before. they'd even had their present company attempt to shoot them not too long ago. but this was different. they knew when they were outmatched. outnumbered, even. their telekinesis could only do so much, especially when surrounded on all sides. the bullets would find a way to harm, even kill, them one way or another.

their grip around their spear tightened.

they had a choice here. die fighting or get captured and imprisoned. there was an odd, even cruel, sense of irony here and a bitter chuckle almost escaped them. this was a very similar situation to what they were trying to help the other Guardians escape. except now the role of The Watcher's master had changed.

there was a strong urge to die fighting. they weren't stupid, they knew what the consequences were if they got captured by a coporation such as Hyperion, let alone by a man such as him. but if they died, so did the rebellion. so did the chances of a lot of the Vaults being opened. they needed to stay alive. their chance to escape would, that they were certain of. one day, they would return to their orignal purpose.

and so, the spear was thrown to the ground, clattering in front of their feet.

once it came to a stop, their hands rose in a surrender, much like they had seen other humans do. it seemed like the best course of action to not get shot. even their shield wouldn't be able to do much against the amount of guns aimed at them. one would find a way to get lodged into a vital point in their body. "I surrender."

[someotherdog]

@waywordhearts / vikram & your choice of muse! (f/nb, 28+) / based off of this post, bullet point three, but vikram was just a patron instead of an employee / made in beta.

okay, so maybe he kept up with her more than he'd like to admit. vikram may have periodically looked up her up on instagram or facebook, scrolled through her feed with a joint in the other hand, and frequently thought her fiancé looked like a tool. maybe, sometimes, vikram would ask old college friends what his ex was up to, if maybe she asked around about him. it could've been possible. maybe, if he was at a bar at around midnight on a random thursday, he would've recognized his ex's current partner with their hand on someone else's ass.

it had been an innocent thing to start out with. in no way did vikram intend on spying, or even running into the fiancé in question, at that bar on a random thursday night. once he did see them, however... at first it was a questioning look, all 'hey, isn't that...?' and 'shit, i think that's...', but it quickly devolved into creepy staring. the way the affair partners were rubbing against each other and kissing as if there was buried treasure in their throats, his friends began to give vikram weird looks when they noticed that his attention had been stolen from them.

'you really that hard up, man?' gideon asked. vikram rolled his eyes, then explained what exactly he was looking at. his friend just laughed. 'maybe you should take a pic and send it to her. maybe you'll have a shot at getting her back.'

vikram had grimaced, as if that thought hadn't already occurred to him. he knew, even if her fiancé was betraying her, she'd never want to hear from him again. not after he had betrayed her, all those years ago. he wanted to be able to blame on it being young and stupid, but the truth was that he was old and stupid now, too. he had cheated on her because he was easily distracted. because he was high at a party. because he had been horny. because, ultimately, vikram wasn't a good person. and that he was stupid.

old and stupid.

he had enough of the show. excusing himself from his friends, he slipped outside and dug his phone out of his pocket. bringing up his phone contacts, he scrolled until he found her name. vikram had hoped she didn't still have his number blocked, then pressed the call button:

"uhhh. oh. hi. maybe you don't remember me? it's me, vikram, from college. anyway, i was at mcswishey's on center street and i'm pretty sure i saw your fiancé making out with someone who was obviously not you. um, i took a photo. i could send it to you, if you wanted. so, i mean i don't know. i guess i just wanted you to know? so... i'm sorry."

[hxntresses]

@allbains

After settling into a job as Beacon Academy's head nurse, Fiona had thought her traveling days were behind her - but then again, she hadn't been expecting Beacon to fall. Nobody had but those who had orchestrated it. Her past failures had been joined by all new ones, the medic weeping for more young lives she couldn't save. With the academy gone, Fiona had seen no other path than to take up a job in Vale - but eventually she could no longer stand the guilt, the nagging feeling that she should be doing more, and had decided to once again take up her old work. People all across Remnant needed help, and she wanted to be there for them when nobody else was.

Her travels had taken her to Anima, where she was currently staying in a small village on the outskirts of Mistral. They had been dealing with the aftermath of a Grimm attack when she'd arrived, and Fiona had decided to stay around for a week or so whilst the wounded recovered. Her patients tended to for the moment however, the healer now had some time to relax. She had made her way to the village's tavern, where she had warmly greeted the tavernkeeper and ordered a simple cup of tea.

During her time here, she had counted herself lucky to get to know most of the village's residents. However, the man seated not too far away was a face she didn't recognise - a Faunus too, it seemed - if the ears atop his head were any indication. Curiosity piqued, the woman swivels on her stool to face him, offering a kind and welcoming smile.

"I don't recognise you as one of the villagers. A fellow traveller, perhaps? You don't have to sit over there all alone, you know." She attempts to spark a conversation, though if he had no interest in talking, she would of course respect his privacy.

[descensionstar]

@rxsurgcnt​ ✧ just the way you light it

the air had been abuzz with talk about strange flowers, but standing along the pathway leaving into a cavern, the sea sprawling and scaling the walls couldn’t appear more harmless. appearances could be deceiving, that was one of the most fundamental rules of traveling — but when the blossoms began to shine, twinkling a rainbow of colours, they felt closer to Small Lamp Grass than any sort of threat.

if anything, the falling ash should have been of more concern, but everyone continued about their business like it was normal. wonders of this place would never cease. after spending every minute since waking in that taxi on-edge, it might have been wishful thinking that allowed Lumine’s guard wane, in search of something to admire and take her mind off things. “they’re beautiful”.

[devsmuses]

📞 - your choice!

if ezra were sober he'd never dare to call someone this late at night. his anxiety guided him to believe you shouldn't even bother people with texts past a certain hour of the night. the bottle he'd been nursing throughout the night lended a hand in the fact he had his phone pressed to his ear calling someone who probably didn't wanna hear from him. he was surprised when he heard them actually pickup and now he didn't have a clue what to say or why he'd called in the first place. "oh god, this was a mistake." he breathed into the receiver. his eyes pinched closed for a moment and he's using his free hand to swipe through his unruly hair. "sorry, i didn't mean to call. i butt dialed you, my bad." that had to be the most unbelievable excuse he'd ever given someone.

[more-than-a-princess]

Closed starter for @crystalmarred!

She'd been warned of two things upon disembarking from the boat sailing half a mile from Venice: to keep her boots and gloves on at all times due to the dilapidated nature of Poveglia, and that her generous financial contribution had allowed the discreet touring agency to buy out every other tour in the vicinity planning to send groups of tourists to the island that day. Already it was a struggle to get to Poveglia from nearby Venice: Italy discouraged both tourists and locals from stepping foot on the abandoned place, leaving only the most exclusive of tours permitted (or rather, paying off those in charge).

Sonia hadn't minded: she liked it that way, she needed it to be that way. The touring agency was made for people like her: a vast amount of resources, a requirement of discretion, and an interest in venturing off the beaten path. And as a full-time working royal, she found herself under more scrutiny than she'd ever been as a student. Middle school, high school, university...they'd all afforded some degree of protection for her. That the press possessed some amount of a conscience not to bother the future Queen of Novoselic as she studied to become a ruler worthy of the title.

But now that was no longer the case, and when Princess Sonia of Novoselic required a respite from her day-to-day life, she disappeared the best way she was able to: with a minimal security team, in normal clothes, into a world of ghosts and demons, serial killers and the supernatural. In this case though, it was mostly ghosts: of the infected, of the insane. Her security had been kind enough to wait closer to the docks as their Princess, dressed in military-grade combat boots, trousers, and a fitted longsleeve t-shirt carefully wandered through the overgrown grounds and the dusty, crumbling hallways. To her credit, Sonia had stayed away from the passages and staircases the Italian guides insisted were too eroded to safely pass through, but that didn't stop her from brushing dried leaves and twigs off a stone bench and take her seat upon it. A backpack at her feet, her long blonde ponytail hung over one shoulder as she took photos and videos to capture the moment, and simply sit where it felt no life had existed for decades. Not since the elderly home had been shut down in the 1970s, and the mental institution before that. She glanced at the bell tower nearby: she had yet to climb that, but had wanted to see where the doctor, having gone mad himself after participating in illegal research on his patients, had thrown himself to his death in the 1930s. His spirit, like so many others succumbed to plague or insanity, apparently resided on Poveglia. And Sonia, in a decided un-royal move, was determined to witness evidence of them. Even just an unexplained occurrence. Like an unfamiliar footstep, or a scratching sound, or the wailing despair of a ghost-

CRACK!

In an instant, Sonia was on her feet. The cracked twig or branch had been enough to pull her out of her pleasant thoughts. It was precisely the island's morbid history that helped her relax, in contrast to the more pleasant tourist town close by. It never occurred to her to be afraid of ghosts, or even trespassers on her private outing: excitement and adrenaline were the only things that coursed through her veins as she smiled eagerly, eyebrows raised in curiosity. "Hello?" She called out. "Antonio? Lorenzo? Is that you?" The two security guards in charge during her holiday, she suspected they had far more fun listening to the boat captain's onboard radio for the latest football scores rather than intrude on her day. Which meant that the sound was a ghost, it had to be.

Her hands, pressed together in anticipation, fell to her sides when the perpetrator of the noise revealed himself. Not a ghost but a man: dark-skinned and dark-haired, though Sonia was unsure as to if he was a local or a tourist such as herself. With a small sigh and a smile, she might as well put her negotiation skills to use, even on a holiday. "Mi scusi," She began in Italian, just as she'd called out for her guards before. "I am sorry to tell you, but Poveglia is reserved for a private party for the duration of the day. There should be no other boats arriving here today." She both wondered how he'd gotten there and prayed he did not recognize her: Italy did neighbor Novoselic after all, and her mother's family hailed from a Novosonian city from the southern part of the country, where Italian language and culture was often mixed with Novosonian due to their shared border. There was a chance that this man would, to her dismay, recognize her for exactly what she was: a princess attempting to leave her duties behind, even if temporarily, to mingle with spirits.

[luvyeni]

⠀ ( drabble ) finally forever ̨ ! ୨୧ 一 박성훈 ՞

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ sunghoon tying himself to you for once and for all  ヾ

yandere!sunghoon・ reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ yandere ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ cw ・ ‎mentions of murder, ‎ ‎unprotected sex, breeding kink, crying kink‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ wc ・ ‎0.8k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

request. yandere sunghoon smut PLEASE, your yan work has got me salivating. It can be any scenario you would like (punishment, stokeholm syndrome i hope u get what I mean) love your work !! take care. 🫶

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 hope this is what you wanted 🫶🏽🩷

you no longer walked on eggshells when sunghoon was around like you did when you first started whatever it is you had — you no longer fought with him about leaving ; in fact you hated when he'd leave or when he said he'd take you out. . . all you wanted was to have him to yourself.

sunghoon didn't see that at first; he thought you were just trying to fuck with him , waiting for him to let his guard down just to leave , so he tried everything to get to you — chaining you up to your bed , leaving you without food; that didn't work , he'd come home to you sitting on the bed , waiting for him.

he even tried bringing another girl home; no he had no intentions of sleeping with her , she was purely there just to see if you squirmed; and when you didn't , instead you cried , he killed her , there was no use for her and of course he couldn't let her go , you being tied to the bed kinda threw her off and he didn't want her to call the cops — even then you didn't do anything , not a flinch or anything.

he didn't even console you as you cried thinking he was tired of you — he still didn't fully believe it , he believed this was all an act , that was until you wrapped your arms around him , begging for him to never leave him , that you needed him; that you wouldn't be able to go on without him… that's when he knew he had you.

“you'd die without me?” he said , you sniffled, nodding your head. “stop all that whining , i killed her you saw it.” he said. “i was never gonna sleep with her.” your eyes were red, tears streaming down your face — it was fucking turning him on. “pl-please don't do that again.” you said. “you've acted like a bitch this entire time , why should i listen to you.”

“you know how much trouble you put me through? how many people died because of you?” he grabbed both your hands. “things won't change that easily because you suddenly love me , you still need to be punished.” he dragged you back to the room , throwing you the bed. “you want me to believe that you really won't leave?” he said , cuffing both hands , binding you back to the bed. “then shut the fuck up and let me do what i want to you.”

you laid there; no resistance as he pulled your pants down , leaving you in the underwear he bought. “you love me now?” pulling his pants down , freeing his cock from his underwear , it was your first time ever seeing his dick. “y-yeah.” you stuttered , pulling your panties to the side. “look at this wet cunt , no matter if this shit is just an act , this pussy is definitely singing a different tune.”

“i-i do love you.” you cried out. “i-i swear.” he let out a tsk sound. “then show me.” was the last thing he said before stuffing you completely full of his cock. “oh yeah fuck!” he groaned , wasting no time in thrusting into you. “so warm , fuck i waited so long for this.” he gripped your waist , holding your waist in his hands , as he began to pound into you. “hoonie fuck!”

he never heard that nickname came out your mouth , but it only encouraged him to fuck you deeper , and with much more force. “shit , should just use this little pussy until you can't take it anymore.” he hissed. “forget if you cum or not.” he slapped your cunt. “sunghoon.” you screamed pulling at the restraints. “use you as my cum dump.”

you began to tear up again , he was being really mean. “keep crying , show me how sorry you are.” you sobbed out and apology after apology , not even sure what you were apologizing for. “im sorry , im so sorry.” you said in between sobs. “please let me cum , i need to cum , please i love you so much.” he heard enough , plus he was on the brink of cumming himself. “cum , cum now.”

he gave your clit a few slaps as you came , creaming his cock , tightening around him. “fuck I'm gonna fill you up , keep you pregnant with my kids so you'll have no choice to stay.” he didn't really like the idea of child , but if was to get reassurance that you'd stayed with him then so be it. “fuck im gonna cum inside you.”

“please hoonie , please fill me with your cum.” you begged , he gave you a few more thrust, stilling his hips as his cock pumped a load of his cum into you. “fuck , you're mine.” he groaned. “this is my fucking pussy.” his hand coming up to your throat. “you're mine , and a few kids will solidify that.”

“gonna fuck a few brats inside you so you'll be stuck with me forever.”

©LUVYENI

[lielove]

@solivcgant || starter call.

A VOICE ACTING JOB... for a game that was set to release for a portable game console on that day. ai just voiced a minor character for the game, but she was excited about the job all the same. she played the first boss in the game - one that tells the cast of a rumor of people being possesses, only to be the one possessing the townspeople. She's slain in the end, but it was a role worthy of showing her name on some of the advertisements, if nothing else.

unfortunately, the game just seemed to be flying off the shelves !! no matter where she went, she couldn't seem to find a copy to purchase. to think that she'd be spending her off day like this !! clad in a disguise she enters what she thinks may just be the fourth or fifth shop - a single copy sits neatly on the shelf. she reaches out to it, the game nearly in her grasp as her fingers brush against someone else's.

looks like someone had beat her to it, right at the end. though she may have been disguised, she wouldn't hear the end of it if word got out that she caused a scene over a video game of all things.

she moves her hand back, offering a small smile as she adjusted her hat to cover her eyes. ❝ take it, it's yours !! ❞

[deunmiu-dessie]

(unedited) simon loves you, he's just not the best at showing or saying it.

"no, simon. you don't-," you swallow thickly and forcefully pull your wrist away from his grip. "- you don't get to leave and come back when it's convenient for you." your lips are set but they wobble, teetering with the storm of emotions brewing within you. "i'm done trying. i can't do, whatever this…this twisted game is between us." [i���m sorry.]

he's been silent your whole talk, he seems so stoic as if the conversation is a hassle- like he could care less; and maybe he could. you can never guess what simon was feeling. he was like an impenetrable wall, unwavering— even for you; it left you feeling alone most days.

your eyes flit over his face, hoping to see something, anything that would make you second guess what you were saying. but as usual, he’s unreadable; and tears well up in your eyes as you continue, your voice trembling with a mixture of something akin to pleading and sadness. "i've given you countless chances, simon. i've allowed you to come and go as you please, hoping that one day you would realize the love i have for you. but i can't keep living in this constant state of uncertainty, never knowing when you'll decide to leave again." [no more, never again will i leave you. i swear it.]

you take a deep shuddering breath, trying to steady yourself, but the pain in your chest hurts fiercely. it steals your breath away, and flushes your cheeks with heat. "i deserve better than this, simon. i deserve someone who will be there for me, someone who won't treat me like an option. i can't keep waiting for you to change, to finally see my worth." [i see you. i love you with every breath that i take. until my lungs give out.]

your words hang heavy in the air, you wait for him to say something, to tell you that he loves you, that he’ll do anything to get you to stay. say something, you think. "i've spent too long trying to make this work, trying to convince myself that your attention is enough. but it's not. it's never been enough." [say something! tell her you love her, that you'd die for her. say something, simon.]

a singular, angry and furstrated tear escapes, tracing a path down your cheek. "i deserve a love that is whole, that is unwavering. i deserve someone who will fight for me, who will choose me every single day. and if you can't be that person, then i have to let you go." [don't say that, please. i love you.]

your brows furrow and your chin sets, your hands coiling into fists. tears flow in rivulets down your cheeks and you lift one fist and hit his chest weakly. “say something, you coward.” you utter, your other fist raises to hit him once again. “i hate that i love you so much, i hate you for being the only thing that i think about. i hate you simon.” [i love you, so much that you're the only thing i think about. i love you _____.]

your punches get heavier but he's unmoving, a tic starting in his jaw. in a sudden burst of frustration, you shove at him, your lips pressed tightly together, and your cheeks burning. yet, he remains motionless, his gaze steady and unwavering. “say something, damn it!” you wail, preparing to hit him again, however, his large hands swiftly seize your raised fist before you can and he pulls you into his chest, cupping the nape of your neck and engulfing you in…him. "i love you."

and you know you shouldn't but you melt in his arms, go completely slack, and cry harder. “then say that.” simon presses a kiss to your temple, and you freeze at the tremble of his lips, his chest rumbling as he speaks again. “i love you so much.” and just like that, he reeled you back in, just like he always does; and it felt like coming home. the familiarity of his touch, the warmth of his embrace, it all felt so right, as if you were finally where you were meant to be.

but you knew that as soon as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, that the cracks in your situationship would begin to show. and part of you can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, you were fated to live this exact bittersweet cycle with simon until the end of time.

my eyes were sweating a little when i was writing this ngl

[beeing1alive]

Hi!! I really liked your "turning them on without knowing" post , I wanted to know if you'd like to write a second one but with Tenjiku!! 🙇🏻‍♀️

Note: Thank you for your enquiry, I was very happy about it and hope you like it

Warning: Nsfw content, minors do not interact

Izana:

Gets a hard-on when you give him a tight hug

He just can't help it, as soon as he feels your warmth and smells your body odour he goes crazy

He doesn't want to let you go and wraps his arms around you even more so that you can feel his pulsating cock

Begins to place feather-light kisses on your neck and throat and asks you if you don't want to help him

Kakucho:

It especially turns him on when you try to tease him with something

I mean, the grin on your face and the galnz in your eyes

He immediately gets butterflies in his stomach and his body starts to tingle with excitement, only that the tingling mainly affects the centre of his body

And before he knows it, he's sitting there with an ever-growing bulge in his trousers

Ran:

Becomes instantly rock hard when you whisper in his ear

It doesn't even matter what you say because, to be honest, in this situation he doesn't care

It's just that as soon as he hears your sweet voice so close to his ear, goose bumps spread all over his body

Try 100% not to hide how you hit on him and will ask you if you can help him with the bulge is trousers

Rindou:

Absolutely loves neck kisses

Just can't help but let out a soft sigh as soon as you're busy with his neck

Pulls you onto his lap so he can kiss you and press his hard cock against your bum

Nevertheless, his cheeks are barely noticeably red all the time, because he's just an idiot for you and can't do anything about it

Shion:

Immediately gets a hard-on when he sees you concentrating

The way your eyes dart across the sheet of paper in front of you and you try to memorise as much as possible with a furrowed brow

Feels the need to sit behind you and look over your shoulder so that you can feel his hard cock

Will indirectly try to distract you from your work and gently rub against your bum, which only makes him hornier...

Here is pt.1

Attention: The characters and the GIF do not belong to me. All credits go to the original owners. If you want anything to be changed or removed, please contact me.

[jeoseungsaja]

A ball of fog expands into the air after a trembling breath takes place; long fingers of one hand latched onto tubes painted aquamarine. The other hand is busy fiddling with what rests in his breast pocket, making sure, for the nth time, that the small box is still there, ever so present to the point that it's left a temporal dent on the fabric of his shirt. Teeth bite on his bottom lip --- once, twice; enough to leave an edge of mouth with a small peel which represents nervousness.

He doesn't even remember the last time he was with these many knots in his stomach; a collection of butterflies and twists alike, finding a home in the ever so chaotic depths of the detective. Hyuk takes another deep breath; grabbing his cellphone and glancing at the last text message received from his dear friend ('I'll be there').

It hasn't even been that long since the last time they saw each other; his brain still replaying that last meeting at the beach, when the calendar marked his birthday and his best friend etched a new feeling into his heart. It was brief but undeniably dulcet (and unconsciously wanted, too, that he figured out with time) moment; where time sweetly froze and he was able to decipher, with surprise and warmth, how well the lines of Patrick's lips matched his.

Oh, boy. Just thinking about it sends spirals of temperature up his neck. He truly hasn't been the same ever since --- in a good way. Even his co-workers wonder why he's been more lenient than usual. And, well...whatever this might be, he likes it. Just as much as he likes him. Patrick.

Regardless of feelings bubbling up, this isn't much about putting those puzzle pieces together (they will fall into place with time, won't they?), but about a special occasion; a special day: His best friend's birthday; a mark Hyuk never misses, no matter where he might be or what he's doing. It's why he's decided to take, once again, a plane all the way to Europe --- because a videocall won't do, nor a text message with those exasperating emojis that the detective can't even use properly. Patrick deserves more than that, and he can argue all he wants; Hyuk will not be convinced otherwise.

And so he's here, asking Patrick to see him at the London Bridge, at the time where is dark enough for the towers and rails to lit up and reflect their lights upon the dancing waters. It's a way to reminisce the past, about those days where they'd escape social events just for them to walk all the way here; about those days where Patrick would talk about the stories written behind the bridge and Hyuk would listen intently; about those days where they'd laugh and chat whilst living their adventures of youth.

It's a way to reminisce the past. And connect the present. Much like the bridge links one point to the other.

He waits, patiently so, actually. Knows that Patrick barely gives time for himself even when being a special occasion; prefers to carry on with his endless duties as a responsible professor and doting father. That's Patrick Myungdae Grace for you: A gentleman who often puts loved ones first before even thinking about his own self.

After a few minutes, Hyuk hears hurried steps on the humid ground; such a sound making him turn at once. There he is; the tall man with the kind face and soft eyes, a few strands of hair being blown by the biting, Londoner wind. He looks beautiful as ever, especially when his eyes crinkle due to a smile pulling his lips.

The detective's heart is singing. Loudly. He almost feels his rib-cage is going to explode.

Before Patrick could possibly voice any kind of apology about being a few minutes late (Hyuk doesn't care --- he just cares that he made it in one piece), an impulse makes Hyuk throw his arms around his best friend to wrap him into a tight, affectionate hug; the type only Patrick gets (otherwise Hyuk is too emotionally stiff, as some say). When he pulls away, his fingers remain clasped onto his dear friend's forearms, thumbs unconsciously rubbing the space there as a grin stretches his mouth.

"You look tired. Have you eaten anything? Don't tell me you're only running on tea and the birthday breakfast Hiro and Elise made you--" He scowls, before his features slowly turn softer. "I...wanted us to meet here because I thought...maybe we could, walk a little and..uh...eat at that place we used to go to...when we were younger. The one with fish and chips? I checked and they close until late---"

Since when is he a rambler? He stops himself, awkwardly clearing his throat whilst hands slip away from Patrick's body. "Oh," he quickly goes to fetch the box he's been guarding all this time and hands it to his dear friend. It's small, long; dark green. "For you. I also...wanted to see if they fit you right, could you...open it to check?" Hyuk tries to not rush Patrick into opening the gift, his fuse very short in comparison to his dear friend's. Once it's open, a pair of Rubik's cube cuff links is found inside. The little cubes even twist some, in case Patrick needs a distraction while wearing them. Of course Hyuk had to get them for him.

"Let me," Hyuk grabs one of the cuff links and then takes a careful hold of Patrick's wrist; turning it so his palm is exposed. At first, the detective's focused on putting it on, eyes even narrowing as to look at the shirt's hole under the shadow of artificial lights. But then, he realizes how close he is, how Patrick's wrist is exposed to him even if the rest of his shirt hugs his arm effortlessly. Suddenly, he can feel his heart in his throat and there's the need to---

Just do it, Lee Hyuk. For once, follow that voice. And he does it. He gently kisses the center of Patrick's wrist.

Even if heat crawls all the way to his cheeks, he pretends that what he did is casual; fingers stumbling a little but finally managing to keep the cuff link on place. "There. It--It looks nice. Let's see the other---" And he does the same thing: grabs the cuff link from the box, and then his dear friend's wrist.

He kisses that one, too. The mark tender. A honeyed whisper of utter affection. I'm here. I'll always be here. For you. Just for you.

A clear of his throat; a little, bashful side-smile as the detective attempts to gain his usual composure and peeks to see Patrick. He doesn't apologize for what he did, nor does he try to quickly change the subject. There's no ounce of regret in that body of his and, besides...at this point, that wall where the awkwardness of sentiment was stored is slowly but surely crumbling down, isn't it?

Slow but steady steps.

"I--also got you another thing, but I'll...give it to you until we get to eat." A rainbow fountain pen, that's neatly wrapped in the oh so famous newspaper wrapper he uses. It's saved in the pocket of his trousers; awaiting for the right time to fall onto Patrick's hands.

Hyuk's hands, which rested right under Patrick's wrists, move so they can meet his dear friend's shoulders. He pats them, then pretends to accommodate the lapel of his shirt, when in reality he's getting his palms ready to climb up. And they do, rise and a little timidly; fingertips daring to reach his dear friend's face. The detective's fingers are calloused, but his touch tries to be soft; caring --- loving.

He gives him a smile. One that, he hopes, tells Patrick how proud he is. Of him, his best friend (and something more). Of who he is, who he's become. And how he still holds gentleness and mercy by his hand, despite it all.

"Happy birthday, Dae-yah."

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE MOST WONDROUS PROFESSOR @ofgentleresolve 🥺🎂