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satori-runa · 1 day ago

Text

—SOLACE

Summary: Your life with your boyfriend goes into the next level.

Tags: Established Relationship, Female Reader, Fluff, Romance, Angst

Words: 8,9k

MDNI IT CONTAINS NSFW ELEMENTS

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

“Guess who.” A familiar, teasing voice whispers close to your ear, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. The words are followed by a warm body pressing into your back, enveloping you in an embrace. Gentle hands cover your eyes, playfully robbing you of your vision as you stand at the counter, finishing the last touches on dinner.

You can already smell the distinct, savory aroma of Sebastian’s favorite meal wafting through the kitchen—a hint of garlic, herbs, and roasted flavors blending into a comforting scent. The anticipation hangs in the air, the food waiting to be served, but now there’s something much more important occupying your attention.

“Hm, perhaps my wonderful boyfriend?” you hum back, leaning into the touch and making no attempt to pull away. There’s a soft giggle from behind you, the kind that melts away any lingering stress from the day. It’s a sound you’ve come to love, filled with genuine affection and a trace of mischief. His hands slide slowly from your eyes, drifting down to rest on your hips. You can feel the way his fingers trace small, lazy circles through the fabric of your clothes, a comforting and familiar touch that sends warmth spreading through your chest. He’s not in a rush, savoring the contact as he pulls you a little closer.

“Right on the first try, good job,” Sebastian murmurs against your ear, his voice low and playful. You can feel his breath ghosting over your skin, and the way he tilts his head, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. His hair brushes against your cheek as he lingers there, pressing a gentle kiss just below your ear.

You’d never expected to find yourself in a relationship like this, one that seemed ripped straight from the pages of a corny romance novel or, as you and Sebastian liked to joke, a scene from a Korean drama. It had all started so randomly, in a way that neither of you could have planned even if you tried.

It was a late summer evening, the kind where the air still clung with warmth from the day, and the sky painted itself in deep shades of purple and pink. You were making your way home after a night out with friends, the alcohol buzzing pleasantly in your veins. The streets were filled with the sounds of distant laughter and cars passing by, but all you could think about was how much your feet hurt and how desperately you needed an Uber to take you home. You fumbled with your phone, trying to order a ride while your vision swam a little from the drinks.

At the same time, nearby, Sebastian was also looking to get home. He’d spent the evening crammed into a quiet coffee shop, buried under textbooks and highlighters, his study session running longer than he’d planned. By the time he packed up and stepped outside, the sky was already dark, and he sighed, knowing the buses had stopped running. He pulled out his phone, searching for a ride back.

Unbeknownst to you both, fate—or maybe just the Uber app—decided to pull you together that night. The two of you ended up standing at the same corner, eyes glued to the little car icon on your screens as it approached. When you noticed him, you raised an eyebrow, confusion muddling your half-drunken state.

“Uh, are you waiting for this one too?” You asked, swaying slightly on your feet. The alcohol made everything a bit fuzzy, your usual filter dulled by the night’s drinks.

Sebastian looked at you, equally confused, but then a smile tugged at his lips. “Yeah, I am… seems like we ordered the same ride.”

You blinked, staring at him as if you were processing the situation in slow motion. Then, without much thought, you shrugged. “Well, there’s room for two. You wanna share?”

He chuckled softly, nodding. “Sure, why not? Looks like the universe wanted us to meet tonight.”

You slid into the backseat together, and as the car started moving, you leaned back, letting out a content sigh. The city lights blurred by outside the window, casting a soft glow on Sebastian’s face. He looked relaxed, his hair slightly messy from running his hand through it too many times while studying. You, on the other hand, felt talkative and loose-lipped from the drinks you’d had earlier. Before you knew it, you were rambling about anything and everything—your favorite movies, a funny story from the night out, even some existential musings on the universe that made him stifle a laugh.

“You’re really something.” He said, amused. His eyes sparkled with a kind of genuine interest that you weren’t used to seeing in strangers.

“I’m not something,” you replied, dramatic and slurring your words a bit. “I’m everything.” You pointed at him with a sloppy grin. “And so are you. We’re all stardust, you know?”

Sebastian gave a playful sigh, shaking his head. “Yeah, stardust… sure.” But there was something about the way you spoke, the unabashed honesty in your drunken state, that made an impression on him. You were a mess, but a charming mess, and it was enough to spark something in him.

When the car finally pulled up in front of his place, you were half-asleep, your head lolling to the side. He glanced at you, contemplating whether to wake you or let you rest. In the end, he gently nudged your shoulder. “Hey, this is where I get off. You alright?”

You blinked awake, rubbing your eyes like a sleepy child. “I’m fine,” you mumbled, even though you clearly weren’t. Before he could say anything more, you leaned closer, squinting at him. “You have really nice eyes, did you know that?”

He laughed softly, cheeks tinged with a hint of pink. “You’re definitely not going home like this.”

You didn’t remember much after that. The next thing you knew, you were waking up in an unfamiliar bed, the sunlight streaming in through pale curtains. Your head throbbed, the telltale sign of a hangover, and as you blinked the sleep from your eyes, you realized you were fully dressed, shoes neatly placed by the door. There was a folded note on the bedside table, written in neat, slanted handwriting.

Good morning! You looked too tired (and drunk) to make it home safely, so I brought you here. Don’t worry, you were a perfect angel. There’s water and aspirin on the nightstand. I’ll be back soon with breakfast—Sebastian.

You couldn’t help but smile at the sweetness of the note, even through the pounding in your head. It felt like a scene straight out of a drama—the handsome stranger, the shared ride, the note left behind. When Sebastian returned with a coffee and a bag of pastries, you were sitting up, still clutching the note.

“You’re awake,” he said, smiling as he stepped inside. “Feeling alright?”

You gave him a look, holding up the note like a piece of evidence. “Alright and not drunk, you're really a gentleman for leaving a note.“

He laughed, setting the coffee down in front of you. “What can I say? I aim to impress.”

From that morning on, it became a running joke between the two of you, how you met in such a cliché way. But as weeks turned into months, the jokes turned into real feelings. What started as a funny story to tell your friends became the foundation of something genuine. And now, here you were, dating Sebastian—the boy who shared an Uber with a tipsy, rambling stranger and decided to keep them around.

“Spacing out again?” Sebastian’s voice pulls you back into the present, his nose brushing against your ear as he nudges you gently. He’s still holding you close, his hands tracing idle patterns along your hips, almost as if he can’t bear to let you go just yet. You hadn’t realized how long you’d been standing there, lost in your thoughts and the warmth of his embrace.

“Hmm, maybe.” You reply, leaning back into him with a soft smile. “Just thinking about how lucky I am.”

He chuckles, the sound vibrating against your back, and you feel the way his chest rises and falls as he breathes. “Lucky, huh? I was about to say the same thing.”

He presses a kiss to your temple before finally releasing you, letting his hands slide away reluctantly. You turn to face him, catching the playful glint in his eyes as he takes in the sight of you, still standing by the stove with a dreamy look on your face.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” you say, gesturing toward the simmering pots on the stove. “But if you keep distracting me like that, we’re going to end up with burnt food.”

“Oh no, we can’t let that happen,” he teases, raising his hands in mock surrender. “After all, it’s my favorite. I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

You roll your eyes fondly and turn back to stir the pot, feeling Sebastian’s presence lingering close by. He watches you for a moment, then reaches around you to grab a spoon, sneaking a taste of the sauce simmering in front of you. He hums appreciatively, savoring the flavor.

“Mmm, perfect.” he says with a satisfied smile. “But it needs one more thing.”

Before you can ask what, he’s leaning in again, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck, soft and sweet. It’s barely a peck, but it sends a shiver down your spine nonetheless. You can’t help the giggle that escapes you as you swat at him playfully.

“Sebastian!” you scold lightly, trying to hide your smile. “You’re impossible.”

He grins, unrepentant. “Impossible? Or irresistibly charming?”

“A little of both,” you admit, shaking your head as you reach for the plates. “Alright, Mr. Charming, if you’re going to be here, at least help me set the table.”

Sebastian nods, slipping easily into a domestic rhythm that the two of you have fallen into over the past few months. He takes the plates from your hands, setting them down on the small table in the corner of the kitchen. It’s a cozy spot, just big enough for the two of you, illuminated by the warm light of the pendant lamp above. He lights a small candle in the center, the flame flickering softly, casting a golden glow that bathes the room in a romantic light.

You bring over the food, setting the dishes down as Sebastian pulls out a chair for you with a flourish, bowing dramatically. “Your seat, my dear.”

“Why, thank you, good sir,” you reply, playing along with a grin as you take your seat.

He settles down across from you, and for a moment, the two of you just look at each other, a soft silence settling between you. It’s the kind of silence that feels full, not empty—a shared moment where words aren’t necessary.

“You really outdid yourself,” Sebastian says after taking his first bite. His eyes light up with genuine delight, and it makes your heart swell with pride. “This is amazing.”

“I’m glad you like it,” you say, watching him enjoy the meal you prepared. You can’t help but feel a rush of affection for him in this moment—seeing him so relaxed, savoring the food with that boyish smile you love so much.

The two of you fall into an easy conversation, talking about your day and sharing little stories. At one point, Sebastian leans back in his chair, looking at you with an expression so soft it almost takes your breath away.

“I’ve been looking forward to this all week since there's barely time with work and studies,” he admits quietly, his voice tinged with a kind of vulnerability he doesn’t show often. “Just… having dinner with you, like this. It feels like home.”

You reach across the table, taking his hand in yours. His fingers curl around yours, warm and secure. “Me too,” you say, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “It’s the best part of my day.”

For a while, you just hold hands, the candlelight flickering between you as you finish your meal. There’s a sense of contentment that wraps around you both like a blanket—cozy, intimate, and full of love.

After dinner, Sebastian insists on helping with the dishes, despite your protests. You end up standing side by side at the sink, elbows bumping playfully as you wash and dry. He steals kisses every chance he gets, brushing his lips against your cheek, your temple, the tip of your nose, making you laugh.

“You’re going to make me drop a plate,” you warn, though you’re smiling so much it’s hard to sound serious.

“Then I’ll catch it,” he promises, pressing a kiss to your temple.

By the time the kitchen is cleaned up, you’re both a little breathless from laughing, your cheeks warm from the shared closeness.

After the dishes are done, you’re both standing side by side, your hands still damp from the soapy water. The kitchen is quiet now, the only light coming from the small candle still flickering on the table, casting a warm, golden glow that dances across Sebastian’s face.

He turns toward you, reaching up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. His fingers linger there, brushing against your skin, and when you meet his gaze, there’s a different kind of warmth in his eyes—something deeper, a tenderness that makes your heart skip a beat.

“You’ve been amazing tonight.” He says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you for this.”

You smile, leaning into his touch. “You don’t have to thank me, Sebastian. I loved doing this with you.”

There’s a beat of silence, where neither of you moves, just holding each other’s gaze. Then, in a single, smooth motion, he steps closer, his hands sliding to your waist. He pulls you against him, the sudden press of his body igniting a spark of heat between you. You can feel the way his fingers tighten on your hips, firm yet gentle, as if he’s anchoring himself to you.

You tilt your head up, your breath catching in your throat as he leans in, his nose brushing against yours. He’s so close now that you can feel the warmth of his breath fanning across your lips, and when he finally kisses you, it’s slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring the taste of you. It starts sweet, almost tentative, but quickly deepens as the hunger between you both grows.

Sebastian’s hands roam up your sides, tracing the curve of your waist before sliding under your shirt. His touch is warm against your skin, sending a shiver through you. He pulls back just enough to look at you, his pupils blown wide with a desire that mirrors your own. “Is this okay?” he asks, his voice husky, almost breathless.

You nod, your own hands slipping under the hem of his shirt, feeling the hard planes of his stomach. “More than okay.” you murmur, and that’s all the permission he needs.

He kisses you again, deeper this time, his tongue parting your lips as he presses you back against the counter. The edge digs into your hips, but you barely notice, too caught up in the feel of his mouth on yours, the way he’s holding you like you’re the only thing in the world. You gasp against his lips when he grips your thighs, lifting you up onto the counter with surprising ease.

“Sebastian.” You whisper, your voice breaking with a breathy moan as his lips trail down your jaw, nipping gently at the sensitive spot just below your ear. He hums in response, his hands squeezing your thighs as he settles between them, the hard press of his body making your heart race.

You thread your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly, and he groans, the sound vibrating against your skin. His kisses grow more heated, almost desperate, as if he can’t get enough of you. He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and filled with lust. His forehead rests against yours, and you can feel his breath coming out in short, uneven puffs.

“You drive me crazy,” he admits, his voice rough and raw. His hands slide up your thighs, fingers dipping under your skirt, hooking on the waistband of your underwear. He pauses there, teasing, the pads of his fingers tracing small circles just beneath the fabric. He’s taking his time, savoring the anticipation and the shared intimacy of the moment.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” you manage to tease, though your voice is shaky with desire. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, and he lets out a low chuckle, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

“It’s definitely not a bad thing,” he murmurs, capturing your lips again in a kiss that leaves you breathless. He presses himself harder against you, grinding his hips into yours, and the friction sends a wave of heat coursing through your body. You could feel his growing errection between his legs, pressing between your legs and you had to hold back not to rush it. It’s overwhelming in the best way, the feeling of his firm body fitting perfectly against yours.

His other hand slips further under your shirt, fingertips brushing over your bare skin as he tried to unclip your bra under your clothes and he certainly enjoyed it way too much the way he teased you with his slow delicate movements. He then cups the side of your waist, his thumb grazing just beneath your ribs, tracing gentle patterns. When he looks at you, it’s with an intensity that takes your breath away.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, his voice filled with a raw, unfiltered honesty that makes your chest ache. He lowers his head, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the line of your throat. His hands move with purpose now, sliding down to push your skirt up. He glances up at you, silently asking for permission, his expression almost reverent.

You nod, your breath hitching as he kneels in front of you. The sight of him on his knees, his hands gently spreading your legs appart, is enough to make your head spin. He takes his time, pressing soft kisses along your inner thighs, his eyes never leaving yours. There’s something worshipful in the way he looks at you, like he’s savoring every moment, every inch of your skin. Before you knew it, he took the piece of fabric of your lace panties between his teeth, pulling them down your legs, putting them in his own pockets.

“Sebastian…” Your voice is barely a whisper, your fingers tangling in his hair as he hooks your legs over his shoulders, pulling you closer to the edge of the counter. He grins up at you, a teasing, almost playful smile, before lowering his head.

The first touch of his lips against your most sensitive spot makes you gasp, your back arching involuntarily. He’s slow and deliberate, tasting you with gentle licks that have your entire body trembling. It’s a different kind of intimacy—one that’s both intense and tender, filled with an unspoken love that takes your breath away.

He takes his time, his tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes, savoring the way your body responds to him. He holds your hips firmly, anchoring you in place as he explores every inch of you, finding the spots that make you shudder and moan his name. You can feel his hot breath against you, the soft hum of pleasure that escapes him as he loses himself in the moment.

Your fingers curl tighter in his hair, tugging him closer as you struggle to keep your voice steady. “Sebastian… please.”

He groans against you, the vibration sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your core. He pulls back slightly, just enough to look up at you, his lips glistening, eyes heavy with desire. “I love it when you say my name like that,” he murmurs, his voice low and thick with need. „Keep your eyes on me, darling.“

You’re panting now, your entire body trembling as he dives back in, his tongue moving faster, more insistently. The pleasure builds steadily, a wave of heat coiling low in your belly, making you feel like you’re on the edge of something wonderful. He watches your face as he works, taking in every gasp, every moan, as if it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard.

You can’t hold back any longer. Your body tenses, your thighs clamping around his head as you reach your peak, crying out his name. He doesn’t stop, riding out your release, his tongue gentle now, coaxing you through the aftershocks.

When you finally come back down, your chest heaving, he presses one last soft kiss against your thigh before standing up. He looks at you with a boyish grin, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Was that okay?” he asks, though his smirk tells you he knows exactly how good it was.

You let out a breathless laugh, pulling him into a kiss that’s sweet and grateful, tasting yourself on his lips. “More than okay,” you murmur against his mouth. “You’re incredible.”

He wraps his arms around you, hugging you tightly, his nose nuzzling into your neck as he plants a soft kiss there. “I love you,” he whispers, the words like a quiet promise against your skin.

You smile, pressing a kiss to his temple, your fingers gently stroking through his hair. “I love you too.”

Without another word, he scoops you up effortlessly, his hands strong and sure as he lifts you off the counter. You let out a surprised laugh, clinging to him, your arms looping around his neck as he cradles you against his chest.

“Taking this somewhere more comfortable,” he murmurs, pressing a quick, teasing kiss to your forehead. The look in his eyes is smoldering, filled with an unspoken promise of what’s to come. He carries you through the dimly lit hallway, each step deliberate, the anticipation building between you both. Your heart races, beating in time with his, the air thick with the shared desire that crackles like electricity.

As you reach the bedroom, he nudges the door open with his foot, the soft light from the hallway spilling in and casting a golden glow over the bed. He sets you down gently, his hands lingering on your hips as he leans down to kiss you again. It’s slower this time, a lazy, lingering kiss that’s filled with a tenderness that makes your chest ache.

“You’re too good to me,” you whisper against his lips, your hands already slipping under the fabric of his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips.

He chuckles, low and sweet, as he pulls back just enough to tug his shirt over his head. “I’m exactly as good as you deserve,” he replies, his voice husky. He tosses the shirt aside carelessly, and your eyes roam over his exposed chest, the play of light and shadow accentuating the muscles there. He looks at you like he’s drinking you in, savoring every detail, every expression on your face.

Your fingers find the button of his jeans, working it open as he watches you with a hooded gaze. He helps you, shrugging out of his pants and kicking them aside, leaving him in just his boxers. The sight of him—flushed, breathing heavily, and looking at you with a mixture of adoration and want—makes a wave of heat wash over you.

You lean back against the pillows, propping yourself up as he climbs onto the bed, his knees sinking into the mattress. He’s on you in an instant, his hands gently prying your shirt off, his lips trailing soft kisses down your collarbone as he peels the fabric away. When you’re bare before him, he pauses, taking a moment just to look at you. The way his eyes drink you in makes you feel cherished, like you’re the most precious thing in the world to him.

“Perfect,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your sternum, then another lower, right over your heart. You can feel the heat of his breath against your skin, the press of his lips sending shivers through your body.

His hands trail down your sides, fingers close between your legs. He raises his eyes to yours, silently asking for permission once again. When you give a small, eager nod, he pushes them in, toying with you, his gaze never leaving yours.

He presses closer, his bare chest flush against yours now, skin against skin. The warmth of him seeps into you, grounding you even as your heart feels like it might burst from the intensity of the moment. You can feel every hard line of his body, the way he fits so perfectly against you, like you were made for each other.

“Sebastian.” you whisper, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. You reach up, cupping his cheek in your hand, and he turns his head to press a kiss to your palm.

“I’ve got you.” He murmurs, his voice filled with love and a gentle promise. He dips his head down, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s slow and deep, his hand, pulled out of you, sliding down your side to grip your thigh, pulling you closer. His other hand roams up your body, fingers splaying out on your chest as he squeezed the skin.

You shiver as he shifts, settling between your legs, the press of his body sending a wave of warmth through you. He grinds against you slowly, the friction delicious, and you gasp into his mouth, your nails digging into his back. He groans, a deep, guttural sound that reverberates through his chest, and you can feel the restrained need in the way he moves.

“Tell me what you want,” he breathes against your lips, his forehead resting against yours as he gazes down at you with an intensity that makes your breath hitch.

“You,” you reply, your voice barely a whisper. “I want you.”

He kisses you again, hard and fervent, his hips pressing into yours in a slow, rolling motion that has you arching up against him, seeking more. You can feel his smile against your lips, a soft, tender curve that’s full of love.

“I’m all yours,” he whispers back, his words like a promise. “Tonight and always.”

He moves slowly, unhurried, taking his time to explore every inch of your body with his lips and hands, like he’s memorizing every curve, every shiver. The room is filled with the sound of your shared breaths, the soft sighs and gasps as he touches you, holds you, loves you.

„Promise I always will.“ Those where his last words before you were able to feel him close to your entrance, his tip stroking you gently before he pushed in.

The next morning came in silence, but it wasn’t the kind you loved. It wasn’t the quiet murmur of the world still asleep, or the gentle hum of life waking up slowly. It was the kind of silence that felt heavy, almost suffocating. The kind that made you realize something was missing before you even opened your eyes.

You shifted, reaching out instinctively to the other side of the bed, expecting the familiar warmth of Sebastian’s body curled up against yours. Instead, your fingers met cold, empty sheets. Your heart sank a little, the small knot of disappointment tightening in your chest.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Mornings were your favorite time together, the one part of the day where you could both be unguarded, lazy, and wrapped up in each other without any of life’s distractions pulling you apart. You loved waking up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee, the sound of the kettle whistling in the kitchen as Sebastian made you breakfast, or the soft kiss he’d press to your forehead before you were even fully awake. It was the sweetest part of your life—those quiet, precious moments that belonged only to the two of you.

But today, there was none of that. Just an empty bed and a lingering chill where his warmth should have been. You opened your eyes, blinking at the soft light filtering through the curtains, half expecting to see him standing there, smiling at you like he always did. But the room was empty.

You sat up slowly, the sheets pooling around your waist, and glanced around as if he might suddenly appear. The pillow next to you was still dented from where he’d slept, but it was cool to the touch now, the scent of him fading away. You pressed your face into it anyway, closing your eyes and inhaling deeply, trying to hold on to that small piece of him for a moment longer.

„Sebastian?“ You called out, hoping for any kind of reaction, your voice filling the room.

It didn’t make sense. He hadn’t mentioned leaving early. He hadn’t said anything about having plans today. Your mind raced with possibilities, each one leaving a hollow ache in its wake. Maybe he’d just stepped out for a bit, you told yourself. He’d be back any minute, you were sure of it.

But as you swung your legs over the side of the bed, the cold floor beneath your feet seemed to echo the emptiness inside you. You wrapped the blanket tighter around your shoulders, trying to chase away the chill. It wasn’t just the cold of the room—it was the cold that came from waking up alone when you’d gotten so used to waking up together. This felt oddly strange.

You couldn’t help but remember the way it usually was. How he’d pull you closer, mumbling half-asleep compliments against your neck. How his fingers would trace lazy patterns on your skin, making you feel like you were the only person in the world. How you’d both lie there for as long as you could, wrapped up in the warmth of each other, talking softly or just sharing comfortable silence.

You glanced at the clock on the nightstand, hoping you were wrong. Hoping maybe you’d just woken up before him, and he’d be back any second, slipping into bed beside you with a sheepish smile and a kiss on your cheek. But the clock told a different story. It was already late—later than he’d ever leave without saying something.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to stand up, your legs feeling shaky beneath you. The house felt colder without him here, and the empty quiet of it pressed in on you. You padded out into the hallway, calling his name softly once more, half expecting him to pop his head out from the kitchen, teasing you for being so worried.

But there was no answer. No kettle boiling, no clink of mugs, no smell of coffee in the air. Just the empty echo of your voice.

You leaned against the doorframe, closing your eyes and letting the silence wash over you. The ache in your chest felt heavier now, settling like a stone. It was a small thing, really—waking up alone just once—but it felt like a shadow of something bigger. A reminder of how much you needed him, of how much his presence had become a part of your mornings, your days, your everything.

You pulled the blanket tighter around yourself, rubbing your hands over your arms in a vain attempt to warm up. He’d be back soon, you told yourself again. He had to be. He wouldn’t just leave like this, not without a word. He wouldn’t take away the part of the morning you loved the most—the part where you woke up next to him and felt like everything was right in the world.

But as you stood there, staring at the empty hallway, you couldn’t help the small, creeping worry that maybe today was different. Maybe today was the start of a morning you’d have to face alone, a morning without him to hold you and make you feel whole.

And that thought made the quiet feel so much colder.

The quiet stretched longer than it should have, and with each passing second, the doubt in your mind grew. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, but you tried to brush it off. You told yourself it was nothing—Sebastian had probably just gone out to grab breakfast or coffee. It was a Saturday, after all, and the world outside was just starting to wake up. But as you moved through the house, something felt off.

You made your way to the entryway, half-expecting to see him standing there, pulling on his shoes or grabbing his coat. But the spot where his jacket usually hung was empty. The shoes he always left by the door were gone too. You frowned, the empty space making your stomach twist in a way you couldn’t quite explain. Maybe he had left early, maybe to pick up something for breakfast, or maybe to run an errand.

You convinced yourself that’s what had happened. He’d just stepped out. He’d be back soon. You had to believe that. You turned away from the door and walked back through the house, glancing around for any sign of him. The stillness pressed against you like a heavy blanket, and despite your best efforts to remain calm, you couldn’t shake the unease gnawing at you.

As you entered the living room, you caught sight of the bookshelf against the wall. Your eyes narrowed, and your heart began to race. The shelf was slightly askew, the way it was when Sebastian had been messing around with it. But it wasn’t just the shelf that caught your attention—it was the hidden compartment behind it. Your safe. It was slightly open.

You had always hidden it carefully, knowing it was the one place where you kept the money that had become so important to Sebastian and you over the past few months. But now, standing there, you felt a cold shiver race down your spine. You walked over to it, and as you opened the compartment fully, your stomach dropped. The safe was empty. Your heart skipped a beat, and panic surged through you. The money—everything you had been so careful to keep safe—was gone. The only explanation you could think of was that Sebastian had taken it. He had taken everything. Your mind screamed at you, but your body felt frozen, unable to move.

Your breath quickened, and the room around you began to spin. A knot twisted in your chest, suffocating you, and your mind started to race with the worst possible thoughts. Had he really done this? Had he taken everything and left me? Your hands shook as you backed away from the shelf, your mind still desperately trying to make sense of what was happening. You had trusted him, believed in him, and now all you could think of was how everything had felt too perfect—like it had all been a lie. Any kind of trust was lost as you couldn't come up with a single good reason why he should take the money and disappear.

You moved quickly, heart pounding in your chest, darting around the house as if searching for something, anything that would prove you were wrong. You tore through the living room, the kitchen, even the bathroom. But there was nothing—no sign of him, no explanation for what had happened. The silence pressed down harder, and the walls around you seemed to close in, suffocating you with the weight of your thoughts.

Suddenly, the house felt too big, too empty. Every sound, every small creak, seemed amplified in the stillness. You felt like you were drowning in your own panic. Your chest tightened, and your breathing became shallow, erratic. Your vision blurred as the tears began to well up in your eyes. It was all happening too fast, too overwhelming.

You collapsed to your knees on the floor, hands gripping your hair as your mind spiraled. No, he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. The thought that Sebastian had taken the money, that he had left you with nothing but confusion and betrayal, shattered something inside you. Everything you had shared—the late-night talks, the laughter, the mornings together—it all felt like a cruel joke now.

"Sebastian!" you screamed, the word ripping from your throat, raw and desperate. "Where are you?"

But there was no answer. Just the emptiness, the silence stretching longer and longer, pulling you further into a dark pit of fear and confusion. You curled in on yourself, hands over your face, tears streaming freely as the weight of it all pressed down on you. How could you have been so wrong? How could you have let yourself trust him so completely, only for him to take everything away in one cruel moment?

The house felt like a prison. Every corner, every empty space reminded you of what you had lost, what had been stolen from you. And as the panic surged, all you could think was that he had left, and you were alone, with nothing but the aching hollow in your chest to show for it.

You cried, helplessly, uncontrollably, the sobs shaking your entire body. Nothing made sense. Nothing could bring you the comfort you craved. And all you could do was scream, hoping for some kind of answer that would never come.

Sebastian woke up first, the quiet morning light filtering through the curtains, casting soft shadows across the room. His gaze immediately landed on you—peacefully asleep beside him. The sight of you, tangled in the sheets with your hair messy from the night, made his heart skip a beat. There was something about you, something that made everything else in the world fade away when he was with you.

He could still feel the warmth of your body against his, the weight of your presence next to him, and the quiet intimacy that seemed to wrap around both of you. The night had been perfect, full of laughter and closeness, but in that moment, as he watched you sleep, something more profound settled in him.

He realized, with a clarity that shocked him, that he didn’t just want this—this closeness, this joy, this love—he wanted all of it. Forever. It was like a light bulb turning on in his head, and it was undeniable. He wanted to spend his life with you. The idea of waking up to this—waking up to *you*—for every day to come filled him with a warmth that he couldn’t ignore.

Sebastian’s chest tightened with a mix of excitement and nerves, the weight of the realization both exhilarating and humbling. He knew, deep down, that this wasn’t just a fleeting thought or a momentary rush of emotion. It was real. He wanted to build a life with you. He wanted to promise you forever, no matter what.

Carefully, he slipped out of bed, trying not to disturb you. The sheets rustled gently as he moved, and he paused, watching you for a moment longer, a soft smile tugging at his lips. He admired how peaceful you looked, how safe and content, lost in dreams. He didn’t want to wake you yet. This moment, this quiet, was just for him.

Sebastian stood, stretching his limbs and glancing around the room. His heart still pounded with the weight of what he was about to do. He knew he had to do it. He had to show you that he wasn’t just saying the words when he said he loved you. He was going to prove it.

Moving quietly to the dresser, he pulled on his clothes, careful not to make any noise. His hands trembled slightly, the excitement of the decision making his heart race. He knew what he had to do, and nothing was going to stop him.

His eyes flicked toward the shelf where you kept your safe, his heart skipping. He had always known about it—he respected it, and he knew it was important to you. But today, today was different. He didn’t hesitate for a second as he opened the shelf, taking out the safe. The contents of the small box—money that had been saved for a future you’d both been dreaming of—meant something far more than just savings now. It was a way for him to take the first step toward that future. The life he wanted to build with you.

Sebastian swallowed hard as he pulled the money out, placing it carefully in his pocket. His chest tightened, but it wasn’t from nerves about what he was doing—it was from the overwhelming realization that he was making the choice to move forward, to ask for forever. He knew he was going to spend the rest of his life with you, and that thought was everything.

He turned, quietly making his way out of the room and into the hallway. The city outside was just beginning to wake up, the soft hum of the early morning a comforting backdrop to his racing thoughts. His mind was focused on one thing now: making sure the ring was perfect, making sure it was everything you deserved. He’d save the money for the rest of your life together later.

But today, today was the start of everything.

Sebastian made his way to the jewelry store, each step feeling more like a confirmation of what he had known all along. He was doing the right thing, and no matter how many details needed to be perfect, all that mattered was the love he felt for you. He had to make sure that the ring was just as unforgettable as the way you made him feel every single day.

As he stepped into the shop, his eyes immediately scanned the selection, his mind fixed solely on one goal. He didn’t need to search for long. The moment his eyes landed on a beautiful, delicate ring, a diamond set against a simple gold band, he knew it was the one. He imagined the way it would look on your finger, how it would symbolize everything he wanted to say but didn’t always have the words for.

With a deep breath, he picked it up, his fingers brushing against the smooth surface of the box. He paid, his hands shaking slightly with anticipation, excitement thrumming through his veins.

All he had to do now was get home to you. To show you how much you meant to him, how much he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

The entire time he was gone, his mind was consumed with thoughts of you. He knew when he returned, it wouldn’t just be another ordinary morning. It would be the start of a new chapter. A chapter that began with love, and ended with forever.

But he never returned.

The metallic scent of the Hadal Blacksite hung thick in the air, its sterile walls casting a cold, lifeless atmosphere around you. The labyrinth of vents you crawled through felt like a maze, twisting and turning with no end in sight. Your knees scraped against the jagged metal, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop. Every inch of your body screamed in exhaustion, but your mission kept you moving. The crystal—the one thing you needed to find—was somewhere within this forsaken facility. But you had to survive long enough to retrieve it.

The deeper you went, the darker it became. The vents barely let any light in, and the only sound you could hear was the echo of your own breathing, shallow and frantic. You couldn’t afford to think about how you got here, how everything had spiraled out of control, or the faces you had once known. All you could focus on was the present, the objective. The crystal.

Your life had been shattered after Sebastian’s betrayal. You had fallen so far, so fast, that it felt like the very ground beneath you had disappeared. Now, here you were, crawling through the grim, unforgiving halls of the Blacksite—nothing more than a shadow, a criminal. Desperate. The crushing weight of debt and hunger had driven you beyond what you once thought possible.

Money had been the catalyst for your descent into this hellish place. The lack of it, the constant struggle to survive, had broken you down piece by piece until you were willing to do anything—anything—to escape the suffocating grasp of poverty. Your morals, your dignity, everything you once held dear, faded into the background as you scraped together whatever scraps of hope you could find.

And then you crossed the line.

It was never supposed to come to this. You had promised yourself you wouldn’t risk it all, but desperation had a way of warping your sense of reason. You had stepped into the Blacksite’s underbelly, risking your life, hoping the payoff would be enough to turn everything around. But all you had now were regrets, each one more suffocating than the last.

You had never imagined it would end like this.

It was hard to tell how much time had passed when you finally reached an access hatch, a simple vent. You didn’t hesitate, swinging it open and slipping through into the dimly lit room. Your eyes scanned the space, still disoriented from the crawl, but something stopped you dead in your tracks.

It was a shop.

A small, oddly shop tucked away in the heart of the Blacksite. The walls were lined with shelves—an assortment of strange, vintage devices, dusty trinkets, and knick-knacks. In the corner, a glass display case held a collection of unmarked items, their importance completely unknown to you. It was surreal, this oasis in the middle of a place so cold and hostile.

But what made your breath catch in your throat wasn’t the strange setting or the items on the shelves.

You froze, heart pounding in your chest as your eyes locked onto him. Sebastian. But he wasn’t the man you had once known—he wasn’t even close. His appearance was twisted, distorted, as though the years had been unkind, carving deep lines of pain into his face. His eyes, once warm and familiar, now held a cold emptiness, an unrecognizable void inbetween the fluorescent glow. His skin was pale gray, unnatural, like something out of a nightmare, and his presence felt wrong, as though he had been reshaped by something dark and uncontrollable. The shock hit you like a physical blow, your stomach churning as you tried to pull back, your legs shaking with the instinct to flee. You didn't even dared to comment the rest of his body. This wasn’t the man you loved: this wasn’t even someone you could recognize. A wave of disgust washed over you, mingling with the terror that gripped your throat. You couldn’t even process it—your mind couldn't make sense of the grotesque transformation. All you could do was stumble backward, every inch of your body telling you to get away, to escape this horrible, unrecognizable figure before you.

You took a slow, cautious step backward, your breath shallow and erratic. Every movement felt like an eternity as you tried to distance yourself from the nightmare standing in front of you. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, the twisted version of Sebastian, but at the same time, you couldn’t look at him. The terror in your chest made your limbs heavy, your mind clouded with panic, and your heart ached in a way that made it hard to breathe.

You moved quietly, silently, as though retreating would give you the space to think, to make sense of this madness. Your feet stumbled awkwardly, barely making any sound against the cold floor—until they didn’t. Your foot caught on something—an object, a piece of debris that you hadn’t noticed before—and in a split second, your body was crashing to the ground.

The impact sent a sharp pain through your limbs, and before you could even react, you froze, utterly paralyzed by the noise. The sound of your fall echoed through the room, and in an instant, you felt his presence shift. His breathing grew louder, and then he turned.

For a moment, everything stopped. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe. Every muscle in your body locked up as you lay there, immobilized by fear.

And then he saw you.

His eyes, once hollow, suddenly flickered with recognition. His face—so alien just moments before—shifted into something you could hardly process. A look of utter shock and joy crossed his features, his mouth parting in disbelief, displaying his sharp teeth. He moved toward you cautiously, his voice hoarse but filled with an overwhelming sense of relief.

“Y-You...?” His voice trembled, almost in awe. His eyes darted over your face, his expression softening as the pieces of recognition fell into place. “No way… is it really you?”

A rush of emotion flooded through him—something you hadn’t seen in a long time, something raw and vulnerable. His face broke into an unrestrained, radiant smile, and for the first time, you saw the man you once knew beneath all the horror. It was a moment of pure, unfiltered joy that made your stomach twist in confusion and disbelief.

You could barely move, still too stunned to comprehend the sight before you, but his reaction was enough to make your chest tighten, a jolt of emotion hitting you like a wave, not in a good way.

He was happy to see you. And somehow, in this strange, twisted reality, that felt even more terrifying.

Sebastian moved closer, his hands trembling slightly as he reached for the pocket of his coat, pulling something out with an eager grin. The object glinted in his hand, and for a moment, the sight of the small box made your heart skip with fear. But you couldn’t process it, couldn’t make sense of the words he was about to speak.

“I—I can’t believe this… I’ve missed you so much,” he rambled, his voice a mix of relief and confusion. His gaze never left you, his eyes soft but filled with an almost frantic urgency, as though he couldn’t believe you were really here. “I thought I’d never see you again, after everything—after how much I messed up. I don’t know how you ended up down here, I don’t understand, but… I don’t care.”

His words poured out, faster than he could catch them, like he had been waiting for this moment, this reunion, for so long. He seemed out of breath, his chest heaving slightly as he spoke, the joy barely contained in his voice. His behaviour felt so off on so many different levels, not lovingly like you knew him back then, but obsessive in the worst way.

“I’ve been waiting for this… for you,” he continued, a wild light in his eyes. “I told myself I’d come back to you, no matter what. No matter what happened or what I had to go through… you were always on my mind. I never stopped thinking about you. I—" His voice caught, almost as if the words were too much to handle.

He paused for a moment, his face suddenly serious, as if weighing something. Then, with a flourish, he opened the small box in his hand, revealing the engagement ring nestled inside, covered in some dry blood and dirt. His smile stretched wide, a mix of pride and happiness in his eyes. “I was going to ask you... I wanted to ask you... I’ve been saving for so long. I—” He glanced at you, his expression filled with an almost childlike excitement. “I wanted to give you this. I wanted to promise you everything. I know things were messed up, but you *are* everything to me. And I—I need you to know that.”

But you couldn’t hear his words anymore. They were distant, muffled, as if the world around you was closing in. Your chest felt hollow, and despite the tears that had begun to fall silently down your face, your body felt numb. The shock of seeing him again, the confusion, the betrayal—it was too much to handle. You didn’t know whether to scream or to run, but your body refused to move.

His words—so full of joy, so hopeful—made everything worse. The engagement ring, the smiles, the words of love—they all felt like knives in your chest. Your throat tightened, and the tears came harder, spilling down your cheeks in a silent torrent as you stared at him, completely incapable of responding.

He kept talking, his words becoming a blur. He didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he didn’t care, that you weren’t saying anything back, that you weren’t moving. His smile remained wide and genuine, as if he was living some dream he had longed for. But for you? It was a nightmare that you couldn’t escape, not even if you tried.

You were deadly terrified of him.

You don't know who was standing in front of you anymore.

„GET AWAY FROM ME!“

#⊹₊⟡⋆satori.speaks #⊹₊⟡⋆writings #pressure x reader #roblox pressure x reader #roblox pressure #pressure #sebastian solace x reader #sebastian solace

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verilyproductions · 8 months ago

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Another iconic Alexander Hamilton moment

Hamilton and his men finally dove from the boat into the swirling waters and swam to safety. Scarcely stopping for breath, Hamilton dashed off a message to John Hancock that urged the immediate evacuation of the Continental Congress from Philadelphia. Just before Hamilton returned to headquarters, Washington received a letter from Captain Lee announcing Hamilton's death in the Schulkill. There were tears of jubilation, as well as considerable laughter, when the sodden corpse himself sauntered through the door.

#alexander hamilton #Alexander Hamilton by Ron Chernow chapter 5 #washington #brandywine #historical memes

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ihavethedreamies · 8 months ago

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Pool Boy (1) | Yeonjun

Choi Yeonjun - TXT

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~3.2k OuO

Pairing: Yeonjun x AFAB!Reader

Genre: Reader-Insert, Smut, Porn without Plot

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Small Age Difference (Unspecified, he calls her Noona), Pet Names (Pretty Girl, Noona, etc.), Swearing, Kissing, Oral (M! Receiving), Deepthroating/Face-Fucking, Fingering, Semi-Public Sex (at work but no one else is there), Unprotected Sex (Use a condom! She's on the pill)

Summary: Getting it on after hours with the hot lifeguard who works at the same pool as you. This is just for context, it literally has no effect on the story itself.

Author's Note: This originally was going to be part of a really long series with a lot of plot, but it was taking too long and I was putting too much plot, more than I had initially planned. Because of that, I cut nearly all plot out and it's still three-thousands words of just fucking so…

None of the parts are reliant on the others, there is just a version for each boy.

-> Series Hub <-

-> Taehyun <-

-> Soobin <-

-> Hueningkai <-

-> Beomgyu <-

I am cross-posting this on Archive and Wattpad. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other sites. Happy reading!

Everyone had left, leaving just you and Yeonjun. You were finishing up last minute stuff in the office, not sure where he was, but his bag was still inside, so he definitely hadn’t left. As you were pinning up a sheet on the corkboard by the door that was the schedule for the next week, you felt a presence behind you. It was warm and you didn’t even flinch when you felt hands on your hips. Yeonjun wrapped his arms around you, hand holding his other wrist, so they rested right near your belly button. His cheek rested on your head, his mouth right by your ear.

"Looks like we're alone." His breath was hot on your ear, and you pressed back into him, your own hands coming to rest on his in front of you. You shifted and he let you go just enough that you could turn toward him, then his arms tightened again. He pressed so close to you you could feel the slight ridges of his stomach through both of your thin shirts. Your head had to tip back pretty far to look up at him at this distance. His hands unlinked and surrounded your waist, his big hands easily covering a wide swath of your middle. Your own hands went to his upper chest near his shoulders, and slowly slid up to his jaw.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked, lips so close to yours they brushed over each other with his words.

"I’ll be mad if you don’t-" He was on you. Yeonjun’s lips were as soft as they looked and you groaned, tilting your head to instantly deepen the kiss. One of your hands ran up the nape of his neck into his hair, the other gripping his shirt over the right side of his chest. His own hands left your waist and descended lower till they rested over your ass, and he put his hands into your pockets. Somehow, he pulled you closer and you moaned softly at feeling him completely surround you. He stepped forward and your back hit the wall, the corkboard preventing you from bumping your head on the painted brick. Reluctantly, you both pulled away for a breath, lips still hovering close.

"This okay, (Y/N)?" When his voice, raspy with desire, spoke your name you shuddered. How could someone this beautiful really want you? Just a normal human, not someone who looked like they belonged in a museum as an art piece.

"I would let you do whatever to me." You admitted and he groaned, his brow furrowing and his lips sealed to yours again. The force of the kiss made you groan, and he took the chance to slip his tongue in your mouth. Your head swam and you had never been so turned on just from kissing a guy before. His hands were all over you and you sighed when his fingers crept under your shirt and up your back. When you had to pull away again for air, a ribbon of saliva hung between your lips, and you licked to break the connection.

"Whatever huh?"

"Within reason." You were both slightly out of breath still, your exhales mixing between you.

"What do you want to do?" you asked, your lips still so close they brushed as you spoke. One hand left your back, and he cupped your jaw gently, his thumb rubbing over your throat.

"I want you to swallow my cock." His voice was quiet, worried he was being too forward. You groaned a bit, and he at first thought you were unwilling. However, the fact that you instantly sank to your knees, he saw you were more than willing.

"Fuck (Y/N)." He gasped when your much smaller hands went to the waist band of his swim trunks, and you pulled the garment off and away. His cock sprang free, and he sighed in relief. Big and pretty, just like him. Before he could say anything else, your mouth sealed around the head, your tongue swirling around before taking him deeper.

"Shit~" His moans were pretty too, everything about him was so pretty. When the tip of his dick hit the back of your mouth, your eyes flitted up to meet his. Yeonjun swore once again, resting his arm on the wall and then his forehead on his arm. Seeing you like that made his cock twitch and a bead of pre hit your tongue. What he wasn't expecting you to do next was start inching him even deeper into your throat. He whined and you moaned back, swallowing around him over and over to keep from gagging too bad. He said he wanted you to swallow his cock, so you did, burying him in your throat, your nose hitting the skin of his groin. His eyes clenched shut, teeth chewing on his bottom lip, trying not to move. When you noticed his hips twitch slightly, you smiled as best you could with your mouth full of Yeonjun's dick, and pulled back till you could circle your tongue over the head again.

"Wanna move?" You offered and his eyes flew open to gape at you. When he saw your determined face and not a hint of reluctance in your tone of voice, he moaned. You even sounded excited.

"You sure?" And when you nodded, his other hand stroked over your hair, lightly gripping it to hold you where he wanted. It seemed you had some experience with that kind of thing, because you shifted your kneeling position so you could brace against the floor better. The head of his cock brushed past your lips again and he let out a long whine as you let him get as deep as possible. When he asked for you to swallow his cock, he didn't realize you were going to let him fuck your face. Just the thought alone was getting him close, let alone the perfect wet, hot vacuum your mouth created.

"Fuck-" He groaned, careful to watch when you would suck air in through your nose, making sure he didn't cut your air off too much and too long. Your panties were stuck to your folds already and you grinded against the thick seam of your jeans. Splats of saliva and precum dripped onto the floor as Yeonjun struggled to not ruin your throat, but his hips were hard to control the longer he went.

"Gonna…cum-" He gasped and your hands flew to his butt, holding him in place and he came down your throat. The whine he let out as his head tilted back in relief was literally orgasmic. Breathing hard as you pulled off, you cleaned his still slightly hard cock off and sat back, grinning up at him.

"I…I wasn’t really prepared…" He drifted off and you nodded in acknowledgement.

"I’m on the pill, don’t worry about it."

"You sure?"

"Yeonjun if you don’t get inside me soon, I might start begging. I'm already on the floor." You blinked at him.

"I would like to see that, but a different day. Come up, pretty girl." He helped you stand and turned you around, so you faced the wall again. He pressed another kiss to your cheek as his front pressed to your back, his lips meeting your neck as he placed kisses there, his fingers ghosting over your ribs. You could feel his cock hardening again in the cleft of your ass and you knew he would fill you in the best way. As his tongue ghosted over the ridge of your ear, he wrapped his arms around you entirely again, his right hand cupping your covered breast, the other resting on your stomach above the waistband of your shorts.

"That door locked?"

"They all are." You exhaled, his hand slipping under your bra and tweaking at your nipple. His other hand deftly undid your button and slid his hand into your shorts. You gasped as he rubbed over your cunt through your underwear, the fabric already soaked.

"How long have you been like this, hm?" His voice in your ear made your thoughts fuzzy.

"Fuck, since I first saw you." You admitted and he groaned, burying his nose into the crook of your neck.

"(Y/N), don’t say things like that…" He whined and you chuckled a bit, but you nearly choked on your own air when his hand buried in under your panties, a long finger pressing against your entrance. You exhaled at the sensation, and you groaned when his finger filled you up, deeper than you could ever get yourself.

"Your so wet, noona. Tight." His hips jumped a bit, grinding his cock into your covered back side. You whined when he added another finger, his palm grinding over your clit. He needed to get you more prepared to take his cock. As his fingers scissored inside of you, you reached your own hand back and palmed his dick to full hardness and Yeonjun grunted at the feeling.

"Get inside me, now, please." He complied and you pouted at the loss of his arms around you, his hot skin pressed to yours. He maneuvered behind you; you could hear him take his shirt off as you did yourself. Before you could, he unhooked your bra and he cupped your breasts with his hands, his bare chest against your back. Pressing against you, he stepped forward till the cold wall hit your front, his hands shoving your shorts off. Feeling him bare behind you was thrilling, and while you really wanted to turn and look at him, ogle him, you needed him inside fast. The soft sound of your shorts falling to the floor hit your ears and you whined when the head of his cock rubbed through your folds.

"Oh, god," you gasped as he started to press in. He groaned as your wet, raw heat surrounded him. Yeonjun’s dick stretched your walls with a delightful burn and your nails scratched against the wall futilely, you had to rise onto your tip toes.

"Oh, so good." He groaned once he was inside you all the way. It felt like he was in your throat, he fit inside so deep.

"Fuck, Yeonjun!" You exhaled harshly trying not to clench around him too much, but he felt so good, and he hadn’t even moved yet. Honestly, even if he just stayed like that you would probably eventually cum from him filling you alone. His arms looped around you again, but his hold was more possessive than before. One arm wedged between your breasts, his hand holding the base of your throat. Gently, though, just to secure you. You wouldn’t even mind if his grip tightened a bit…The other arm lay lower, his right hand resting on your left hip, and you braced yourself against the wall with your hands.

"Move, please." You mewled and he took a slow first thrust, the office so quiet that you heard a drop of your wet hit the floor underneath you. Hopefully, you remembered to clean that up later.

"C-can I? I don’t think I can go slow." His nose rested behind your ear, nuzzling it.

"Then don’t. Just fuck me, Yeonjun." You breathed the words out, before his next thrust took it away. Your eyes rolled back as he snapped his hips hard, the thrust was shallow but hard. You threw your head back, it rested on his shoulder as he began to rail you into the wall. Starting to lose strength in your legs, they began to shake, your calves burning from holding yourself to be the right height in that position. He must have noticed because he let you go so you could readjust. You ended up bent at the waist, making a ninety-degree angle. Your hands still held you up against the wall and his hands instead went to your hips. He had to thrust down some, changing the angle at which his cock battered the back walls of your cunt. The head of his dick rubbed over your sweet spot over and over and his thrusts got harder, faster. You wanted to scream from the feeling of him nearly leaving you empty before filling you entirely with a quick snap of his hips. Your head was bowed, your arms above your head, nails digging into the painted brick, chipping it off in some places. Sweat dripped from your forehead, hitting the floor along with the drops from your slick cunt. Yeonjun’s thrusts got sloppier, hard but shallow, his own hands resting on the wall about yours.

"I’m going to cum noona." He grunted and you were close yourself.

"S-s-same-" You managed to get out.

"Ah, fuck!" He was letting out little whines along with you. With one more hard thrust, he set off your orgasm, your walls clenching his cock so hard he fell over as well. You mewled as he pumped you full, your stomach felt hot, but you wanted more. If he didn’t keep going you would have to go home and dig your vibrator out to charge it.

"Shit, sorry!" He apologized, pulling out. You nearly collapsed, your legs like jelly, and he wrapped an arm around you to catch you, then helped you stand straighter. More drops hit the concrete floor, most likely your combined release falling from your still pulsing cunt. Glancing over to him at your side you finally saw him fully. God, he was absolutely divine…and still half hard.

"I can keep going, but I cannot keep standing." You panted, resting your forearm on the wall, then your forehead on your arm.

"Are you sure?" He leaned in and nibbled over your ear as he whispered into it.

"Fuck, yes, please." You nearly keened and he huffed, before wrapping his other arm under your legs and picking you up. You squeaked as he turned around to lay you on the table. The cold plastic was not the most comfortable perch, but you knew that it would be easier to clean than the couch in the break room. Finally, you could fully see him, your eyes drawn to his cock that was quickly getting fully hard. Honestly, you were glad he kept his shirt on lifeguarding because you would have jumped him otherwise. He was so gorgeous, his body proportions absolutely perfect along with his face.

"You need a break or are you ready?" His hands cupped your thighs, pulling them up so you could wrap your legs around his waist.

"I’m ready, hurry up!" You insisted and he laughed, his cock meeting your pussy again. Unlike before where he eased into you, he fucked into you hard immediately and your shoulders twitched, back arching.

"Yeonjun~" You felt your mind going numb, the pleasure tingling through your body. He smirked at your decreasing sanity, proud that he was the one doing it to you. You yelped when he pulled you closer to him, farther down the table. He leaned over you, his hands meeting yours over your head, holding them in his. Yeonjun’s lips found yours again and he swallowed every little moan you made. Whining again as his lips left yours, you wanted to complain, but he laid kisses from your cheek to your jaw, then your neck. He wanted to leave a mark or three but with the heat and working, you wouldn’t be able to hide them. Another time. He slowed his thrusts suddenly and you were going to protest, but his hands looped over your thighs again and he forced a squeal out of you when he folded your legs up, your ankles by his ears. He smirked and you were glad for your flexibility, and his hips began to pummel yours, the table shaking under you. When his eyes left your cunt, swallowing his fat cock, and went to your face he chuckled. You were gone, cock drunk and drooling. He had no idea you would get that far gone, not with your confident and bold personality. You were going to drive him crazy.

"Feel good, pretty girl?" Yeonjun stood back up straight, your legs coming off his shoulders so he could notch your knees over his elbows. Each roll of his hips allowed his pelvis to hit your clit, and he would grind hard into you as deep as he could each time. Your moans got louder, your walls pulsing and clenching again; he could tell you were nearly there.

"Yesss~"

"My cock really that good?"

"Oh, fuck, yes!"

"Couldn’t wait for me to fuck you, huh noona?" His words went straight to your head and cunt, but you weren’t able to say much back but ‘yes’ and nonsense babbling.

"I should always take second shift, wait till everyone else leaves, then fuck you on every surface in here~" He sighed with a slight moan as your pussy fluttered around his cock.

"You would like that, huh noona?"

"Fuck, yes!" You mewled and his thumb met your clit and with one stroke you fell apart again.

"Ah, ‘Jun~!" You clenched him tight, and he felt your cunt overflow and drip from your release. He wanted to hold back, but you felt so good, he was a goner when your legs wrapped tighter around him, not letting go.

"Fuck, I’m gonna cum again." Yeonjun groaned, pumping his hips hard two more times and spilling inside of you again. He fell forward, catching himself on his hands by your head. As your highs came down you pondered how you were going to get home with your shaky and numb legs.

"I’ll," he chuckled, "I’ll help you clean up." He pulled out of you, and you keened at the loss.

"Stay there a sec." He went and got some paper towels and cleaned himself before putting his shorts back on. You closed your eyes, breathing hard and you flinched when he brought a damp towel to your core.

"I make a mess?" You laughed, nearly sounding drunk.

"Pfft, no I did." Yeonjun chuckled and when he decided you were properly cleaned up, he helped you sit up on the table. You wobbled a bit sleepily and he brought you your discarded clothing.

"You’re so sweet." You cooed which made him smile, then he placed a soft kiss on your forehead.

"We also made a mess on the floor and over there…" He grimaced jokingly and you laughed yourself. Despite your shaky muscles, you were able to get dressed and help him clean. You disinfected just in case since it was a public area. It was nearly eleven by the time you were ready to lock up and leave and he stood beside you as you locked the gate.

"(Y/N)?" His voice was soft, and you turned to look at him.

"I just…I understand if you don’t want like…" He licked his lips, nervous, "I won’t just stop talking to you now that you let me- I mean-" He was stammering, his face red and you thought it incredibly endearing. He had literally just rearranged your insides and was now bashfully rambling. Stepping closer, you grabbed his hands where it was fiddling with his bag strap.

"Yeonjun, you are so sweet. If you want to just stay friends?"

"No! I mean…I want more but if you don't don't push yourself." He cleared his throat, looking intensely at your linked hands.

"I'm not pushing myself." You smiled up at him and his nerves flew away, his lips pulling into a smile himself.

"Thank God."

-> Series Hub <-

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#ihavethedreamies #kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop x reader #tomorrow by together #tomorrow x together #txt #txt fanfic #txt x reader #txt smut #txt yeonjun #choi yeonjun #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun fanfic #yeonjun smut

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redflagshipwriter · 9 months ago

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Reassembly 1

Masterpost

inspired by the iconic DC/marvel crossover Dark Matter that was actually the only reason I started reading DC (so if you like my DC stuff, Mystery Cyclone is who you have to thank)

The first thing that Peter registered was pain. His whole body felt like an electrical burn.

It was a relief to be in bone splitting pain, for about an instant. That was enough time for Peter to joyously process, 'I'm alive?' It came with a flood of endorphins. Holy cow, he was alive! How had Mr. Stark saved him? Did they win after all?

That next instant was when he fully processed the pain he was in. His whole body was burning cold. He opened his mouth to scream and he inhaled a viscous, sour liquid. He choked on it, hands flying to his throat. He opened his eyes and everything was filtered through a shadowy green. He couldn't see anything but green. He felt panic and it didn’t feel natural.

It didn't take Peter long to regret opening his eyes. It burnt. He gasped again despite knowing he wasn't going to get air. He closed them again but it didn’t help anything.

'I'm drowning! I'm drowning? Why am I drowning!?'

When did he get in the water??? The last thing he remembered was being on Titan! Titan wasn't notably wet!

It didn't matter, he could figure that out later. He swam. He only moved a little before he hit something. Peter flung his hands up flat against something hard, smooth, and cool. It felt like glass. He felt like a wild thing, feral and desperate. There was a light show behind his eyelids– or maybe an electric light was flickering madly a few moments before it died, casting him further into darkness.

'I'm going to make a mess.'

His hindbrain was running the show, so the guilty thought was just background noise as he made fists and banged on what he really hoped was glass. It broke.

He expected the glass to shatter or something and the water to all rush out in a dramatic wave. Instead, he felt it sort of collapse away from his hands and he distantly heard the glug of draining water filtered through the burning liquid all around him.

It still hurt, everything hurt. He had to get out! He hit the glass again in desperation. This time it broke more dramatically. Water rushed out with enough force to dash Peter against the broken glass.

It knocked the air out of his lungs- but he didn't have air. So instead he violently heaved that horrible green jelly out in a dramatic spray. He heard it hit what sounded like a hard surface.

And he heard screams.

Peter's eyes flew open. He blinked rapidly and fought the urge to scrub at his face with his hands. The odds that he had small shards of glass on them was uncomfortably high.

His spider sense switched on violently. His full body jerked.

Holy shit. Leaving the tube had apparently been a very bad decision for his safety.

'What is this?'

He was in a dark room. The only light was coming in through the glass pane on the top half of a door. He stumbled towards it. His whole body was loosening with relief as the green slime sluiced off of him.

The door was locked. Before he’d processed why it hadn’t opened Peter stupidly turned the handle a second time. Right. Of course. It was still locked. That was how locks worked.

It took a moment to think of what to do.

He forced the door open. There was an ugly crack in the doorframe. He didn't look as he stumbled out into a hallway. It was white tiled, with off white walls and the long lines of fluorescent lights overhead.

'I've been taken captive by someone who doesn't have an interior decorator.'

It wasn't much, but it was a clue. Mr. Stark would be able to exclude a lot of villains with that information. Peter looked both ways, heart pounding. Where should he go? He had no idea where he was or what was going on. One end of the hallway was silent. The other had the sounds of a distant but desperate fight.

That was when he realized he was naked. Peter was standing in a hallway absolutely naked, and still wet with green goop soup.

He turned away from the sounds of people.

Instantly he felt guilty, but he was naked! Peter ran, wet feet slapping on the tile. It was absurd. It should have been funny. It wasn't. He felt frantic and halfway insane and he still hurt.

'I hurt before, too,' he remembered. 'On Titan, everyone disappeared and then I hurt and I fell and Mr. Stark said-'

He shoved the thought deep, deep down before he became a gibbering wreck. Later. He'd think about it later.

For now he threw open doors as he came across them. Most of them were locked. Peter threw open a door and then turned on the light.

It was a lab. There was a huge tube full of green liquid and a-

"That's a body," Peter said, to himself. The words echoed. "That's a - that's a corpse."

Horrible? Bad. Very bad. He flicked the light back off and kept running. He was suddenly very glad he had run away from the sounds of human voices.

His brain tried to draw a mental connection between the green tube and where he woke up. He pushed that down and ran faster. His survival instincts were still in charge and they were screaming at him to leave. He was even more frantic now. He needed a door outside. He flung open a door, registered that it was full of clothes, and shut it.

Then he remembered, 'Hey, I'm absolutely naked,' and opened it back up.

It was full of clothes that were not suitable to wear in a lab. That made sense. Peter stared at a collection of jackets, skirts, and boxes of sandals. Right. People who worked here would have changed into long sleeves and full length pants when they got to work.

'It must be hot outside now.'

It was not ideal. He grabbed a bright green zip-up jacket that smelt kinda dusty, a black pair of dress pants, and frantically shoved his feet into a few pairs of slip-on sandals until he found one that kinda fit. "Why don't women have bigger feet?" Peter wailed, heels hanging off the end. He pulled the jacket on as he ran and hopped his way into the pants. "Ned is going to give me so much shit," he panted. The thought made him feel better. The closest door led to a shitty changing room, with metal lockers.

'Oh. Normal clothes that don't need to hang up would be in here.'

He froze, weighing how desperately he wanted to get out against how bad of a fit his current outfit was.

His Spidey sense didn't say the building was about to fall down this instant, so he decided to look for something better.

He started pulling on lockers frantically. Even if it wasn't immediate, he was in danger here. His spider sense was screaming it. That normally meant that he should run or duck or hide. Right now, he just knew it meant that he needed to get out of here and not get tracked back. That meant blending in. He needed to look normal, and a teenage boy in too-small sandals, dress pants, and a hi-vis jacket was not normal or inconspicuous.

He found one that hadn’t been properly locked and yanked it open. “Thank god,” Peter breathed, looking at men’s clothes. There was a slightly messy pile of T-shirts and rolled up socks at the bottom, a brown zip-up jacket, and two pairs of sweatpants. The holy grail was a pair of slightly worn white sneakers that looked his size. A quick check of the tag showed they were a half-size smaller than he’d buy.

‘Thor is looking out for me,’ Peter decided. ‘This is actual godly intervention.’

He changed right there, sending up a silent apology to the mad scientist whose wardrobe he was raiding. White shoes, black sweatpants, brown zip-up hoodie (oh no, he was mixing warm and cool neutrals) and a plain white t-shirt looked a lot more natural on a teenager than what he’d grabbed at first. The outfit change took seconds. He stuffed the old outfit in the locker to hide it and impulsively decided that he might as well grab the bag that was hanging from the back. He was pretty sure the compound was being raided or something, so the guy was probably going to be too busy in jail to notice his missing stuff.

The next door led outside. He could smell fresh air. He nearly wept.

First that was because freedom was close. When he shoved at the door, the temptation to cry was because it was a heavy metal door and didn't budge.

Peter reeled back and looked around for a way to unlock it. The only thing he saw was a box with a card reader. You needed an ID badge to get in and out, then.

Or super strength. This wasn't going to be subtle. Peter busted the door down with only a smidge of regret and burst into what turned out to be cool night air. It smelled like the ocean and safety.

Alarms blared.

"Okay," Peter said, "That sounds bad."

He picked a random direction and bolted. He wasn't too far gone to notice the first street sign and numbered address on the building he passed. He'd need to know where he'd just escaped from later. Mr. Stark would know what to do about a creepy laboratory with bodies in tubes-

A body! Not bodies, just one human corpse! He had been in a tube, yes, but. But.

Peter pushed down the impulse to scream.

That was great, because it wasn't actually that late out. He passed a jogger with a reflective wristband and hi-vis jacket. She gave him a weird look in passing.

'Because I look crazy sprinting by myself,' Peter processed. He needed to- did he need to put distance between him and the building or to blend in better?

No one was actively following him.

Peter swallowed hard. He forced himself to slow down to a brisk walk. He tried to look bored. He wished he had a phone to mess with. Oh. He unzipped the bag to check if there was one inside. There wasn’t, but there was a wallet.

He grimaced. Whoops. He’d look in that later. Maybe he could mail it back to the guy, if there was an ID in it.

There wouldn't be like, cameras everywhere, right? If not, the most important thing was to not be memorable. He was pretty sure. That sounded like something the Black Widow would say.

He ruffled his hair and realized it was drying in spikes. Peter grimaced at the feeling of whatever that stuff had been, drying. He wanted to shower immediately.

He settled for not touching it. He walked and walked and realized that he didn't recognize anything. He wasn't in NYC.

Well. Duh. He stared out at an unfamiliar city after sunset, dumbfounded. The last thing he remembered was being in outer space. He should just feel lucky to wake up on Earth at all.

Okay. What was first? He sucked in deep breaths, struggling for calm. He needed to find out where he was. That was first, right? Then he needed to contact someone. Aunt May or Mr. Stark or- he had Happy's phone number memorized. Okay. Great. His heart rate started to slow a little. He knew lots of adults that could get him.

It felt a little unreal to walk down the sidewalk past chattering civilians. Peter stared at people, not entirely sure why but feeling a little creeped out.

'They're not scared or stressed. Everybody's acting like it's a normal day.'

It took a while for the realization to hit.

'The invasion must be totally over. Things have gone back to normal.'

That should have been a relief. Instead, he felt a creeping tendril of fear. What had happened to him? How long had it been?

Okay. That question gave him a task. He needed to find the date. That was achievable.

He started walking again with that mission in mind. Despite how bizarre his situation was, having a goal made him feel more stable. Sure, he didn’t know what had happened, but he knew how to gather information to make a plan. That plan was probably going to be ‘borrow a phone and call someone, or use a public computer to email someone.’ He just needed a little more information to make that happen.

A thought occurred. Peter bit his lip and stole looks at the other people walking around. No, it couldn’t be. He hadn’t been asleep for a really long time, no way. People looked about the same. If anything, the fashion here was a little conservative and outdated. He eyed one young woman and was pretty sure Aunt May owned that exact top in another color.

To be fair, he was from New York City. Fashion started there and spread elsewhere, right?

It was fine. Everything was fine! He walked a little faster and wished he'd ended up somewhere that he knew. It would have been easier to get his bearings. He saw the name “Metropolis” on enough signboards to figure out that was the name of the area.

‘That is weird,’ he thought, anxiety prodding at his nerves. He fiddled with the zipper on his jacket to have something to do with his hands. ‘I’ve never heard that city name before. And this is definitely a city. People have American accents here. Shouldn’t I know this city?’

Well. Maybe it was a suburb or something. Like, a subname, like how the boroughs were all part of NYC. He could be in like, California, or something and just not know the area well enough to recognize it.

Peter finally found an electronic billboard with the date on it. Oh, shit. He stood open-mouthed for a long moment, watching the pixels appear and disappear in a ripple in between ads for a divorce lawyer and a jeweler.

It hadn't been long. It had been the opposite of a long time since the fight with Thanos. Or something?

Peter knew he was reeling. He shoved his hands in his pockets and started running on the sidewalk just so that there was a reason for his breathing to be so heavy. Shoot. Shoot. His shoes were starting to pinch and his whole body felt itchy with panic.

The flashing billboard had displayed the date in the bottom left corner. According to that, he was 5 years in the past.

'How and why?'

That complicated things. Peter tried to make a mental map of what things were like five years ago.

He couldn't go home. Not yet. He could – oh. Oh, Uncle Ben hadn't been shot yet. He reeled. He could- and Mr. Stark, this was around the time that Mr. Stark was kidnapped, wasn't it? He didn't remember exactly but maybe he could help.

It was too much for him to process right now. He wanted to go home and hide.

'I can't go home.'

The thought hit him hard. His heart started to race.

If he went home- they'd think he was a stranger! Would Aunt May and Uncle Ben even recognize him this much older?

'I think they'd want to help me. But they can't afford to feed me. I can't put that on them.'

Guilt crawled into his throat with claws. Peter felt his eyes watering. He was so selfish. He had a chance to help people and save lives and he was busy feeling sorry for himself because he couldn't go home? What kind of hero was he?

"This is good," he choked out. He scrubbed at his face. "I- I can fix so many things."

So why did it feel so terrible?

It was a bad night. It really was. He should have- he was a literal superhero. He should have compartmentalized and strategized and been practical, like his inner Colonel Rhodes advised.

Instead Peter wandered. He just walked the streets of this city as night fell and didn't even figure out where he was. The climate seemed like New York City, for what that was worth, so maybe he wasn't too far off from the home he could never go back to.

It took a really long time for him to realize that he was hungry. Like, he was really hungry.

That stopped Peter in his tracks. Despair crawled up his throat and choked him with tears. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to solve these problems. Act like an adult, he guessed. Adults got jobs. He needed to get a job.

'I want to go home.'

Was that just childish? Maybe it was a good idea. If he was in New York City, at least he'd know his way around. That could only help.

Well. All roads lead to Rome, don't they? Peter started looking for train tracks. If he found a subway entrance it would be clearly labeled, but he didn't have any money for tickets. So he needed the actual railroad, for moving stuff.

'It's not legal but it's not like, a real crime,' Peter told himself, and decided to go for it.

Peter sent up a silent apology to the transportation system and hopped on top of the next freight train that came by. It took him through this weird city and then out into the country for a short spurt before churning into a different city.

Not just any city. Peter stared at the night skyline. The bleariness from exhaustion was playing tricks on him, wasn't it? Because this looked like New York City.

#peter parker #peter parker in gotham #eventually #red reassembly #marvel dc crossover #first important DC character to come in is NOT a bat

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doll1-s2 · 10 months ago

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I wanted to live a cigaretts after sex song

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universallydestinytaco · 6 months ago

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The Little Smiling Mermaid (Chapter 2)

TW: Emotional/Verbal *b*se, Queerph*bia

(Next chapter will be light-hearted enough to make up for how sad/relatable this chapter turned out)

NOTE: Pim is transmasc in this fanfic but the misgendering he gets isn’t intentional, not that his boorish family would be supportive anyway. When Pim arrived back, he thanked Neptune that the concert only started…30 minutes ago, and yet it already descended into chaos all because of him but better late than never! He hastily dolled himself up with traditional Meeplantica garb consisting of a crown of flowers, a necklace of pearls and orient clams clipped on one’s tail-fins (Pim hated that part because of the pinching) prior to announcing his belated presence on stage and calming down the commotion. “Sorry I’m late everyone I had trouble fitting into my costume!” Alan certainly felt conflicted. On one hand he knew Pim was up to more than just having a wardrobe malfunction and the irritated lobster wanted to read him the riot act for almost ruining his big break, on the other hand he knew Pim on a day-to-day basis already got yelled at enough for far more trivial things and began to count his blessings once that headstrong mercritter finally arrived. “From the top, Mistro!” chirped Pim giving Alan the signal, thus finally began the concert after that awkward disruption.

…

While the concert was well received overall, the aftermath on the other hand…wasn’t pretty to say the least. Within two hours Pim went from happily singing in front of an impressed crowd to being sheepishly backed into a corner, trying to look away from the glaring faces chewing him out for somehow forgetting the day of the concert and how he made them all look like “a gang of incompetent buffoons” and at worst, Amy was just rolling with the degrading insults, ranging from insulting his body to his intelligence while screaming in his face. Pim tried to explain but kept getting cut off, as the already unreasonable relatives kept getting angrier. Pim failing to hold back his tears only aggravated them even more. Glep, who was hiding in Pim’s iconic satchel couldn’t take all the negativity targeted at his friend and plucked up the courage to defend him even if it would be fruitless and potentially get him fried by King Steven’s trident. Glep swam out and immediately jumped to Pim’s defense, explaining best he could without bringing up the shipwreck or the surface-related stuff. “An abyss demon was chasing my baby?!” Queen Bertha shrieked with an initial gasp, with Glep responding with the ol’ rolling of the eyes how the flibbertyjibbit would go from verbally assaulting her youngest to immediately acting as if he was still her dainty little infant who she couldn’t possibly bare seeing hurt. A skeptical King Steven cut her off, “Hold your damn seahorses, an abyss demon? In MY domain? I harshly trained my palace guards to be on the look out for abyss demons!” As King Steven was going on one of his tangents, Amy swam up to Pim from behind and yanked his satchel away from him, making Pim indignantly grab it in an attempt to take it back. “Amy what are you doing?!” “I wanna see what else is inside! You been hiding more weird creatures in that bag?” Pim’s heart raced as he yanked it harder with an indignant cry of: “Leave me alone!!” Amy pulled her crocodile tears routine, knowing very well her parents would side with the golden child of the family. Damien rolled his eyes and swam to another room to get away from the noise. “Ugh, Pimberly is being mean to me and won’t let me see what’s inside of her bag!” King Steven was too busy with his unrelated gloating of his glory days as a volunteer soldier for the royal army as Queen Bertha barked at Pim: “PIMBERLY! YOU’RE TOO OLD TO ACT LIKE THAT! QUIT BEHAVING LIKE A CHILD AND GIVE HER THE BAG!” Pim didn’t even have a chance to give the bag to Amy because she ripped it out of his arms and tore a hole into it, revealing Pim’s haul of surfaced items he collected today. “Oh, fudge…” Pim uttered to himself as his family witnessed in disgust at what they discovered before returning their vicious glares to Pim. While this family was no stranger to shooting Pim some seriously dirty looks, this was the first time they looked as if they saw him as a sick twisted crook who had no place under their roof and where all ready to disown him all together. King Pimling clenched both of his fists and swam up to Pim’s face, demanding the smaller mercritter to: “Look at me square in the eye.” Pim nervously looked up at the unbridled rage of his father’s face for about 2 seconds until he finally broke the silence with: “I raised you to never indulge in the culture of those filthy fishmongers…”, grabbing Pim’s hair with the fist that wasn’t holding his trident. “…I don’t even know which has me more repulsed by you: carrying that shit around or the fact that you knew better.” He let go of Pim’s hair and backed away, turning his attention to the assorted items that spilled from the satchel as Pim stayed in place, completely frozen with dread. King Steven pointed his trident at the pile and right before zapping it to oblivion, he gave Pim a stern warning: “This is what happens to any of my subjects whom I see ever engaging in collecting this surface filth, be thankful you’re not one of them.”

KER-POW!!!

All was left was a pile of ash, and Pim could feel tears leaking out of his eyes and into the water surrounding him. Amy, still holding the satchel, threw it on the ground and spat out: “While you’re at it, burn this too! That oughta teach this disgusting little monster a lesson!” Pim finally couldn’t take it anymore. “I WOULD RATHER BE A COMMONER THAN LIVE WITH ANY OF YOU!!” cried out Pim, his heartbroken words echoing throughout the palace before grabbing the satchel and escaping in tears; While the rest of the family kept their disgusted expressions, Queen Bertha visibly went from feeling contempt and outrage to guilt and remorse watching Pim rapidly swim his way out of the palace with Glep following him out of sight, even attempting to reach out to him before it was too late. Amy passive-aggressively comforted her mother: “Oh, she’ll be back after she’s done clutching her pearls! Pimberly does this all the time, last time she shit herself like this it was because I told King Steven she wanted to kiss another girl! Like, eww…what a weirdo.” with a snooty laugh. Queen Bertha didn’t respond with continuing with going back-and-forth about her “odd” youngest child like she loved to do, rather she couldn’t stop thinking about the way her youngest was so visibly distraught rather than irreverently ignoring his uptight Father’s rage with a sassy “What would you know?” attitude. “…Maybe you’re right, she is the most overly sensitive of them all!” Queen Bertha giddily replied with a girlish giggle, igniting Amy’s own amused laughter.

…

It was two hours after dinner time and there was zero sign of either Pim or Glep whatsoever. King Steven and Queen Bertha were on their thrones, silently reflecting on what happened earlier. Of course King Steven was proudly reliving how he destroyed the “surface filth�� and laid down the law on his “impossible” child, Queen Bertha failed to further repress her guilt as her restless conscience kept on nagging at her to make it right.

“Steven, darling…don’t you think you were a little too hard on her?” asked Queen Bertha in a voice much softer than usual. King Steven gave his wife a befuddled look, only to smirk with the boastful reply: “Don’t make me laugh, you complain that I don’t discipline hard enough and when I do you still bitch and moan, typical Bertha.” He went from cocky to stoic mode when gloating: “It’ll do the shrimp some good to scare her straight! Whenever I get the trident, she never makes the same screw-up twice.” His stone-cold stiff upper lip twisting into a sadistic grin. Queen Bertha rolled her eyes, humbly announcing: “I’m ready for bed, you coming dear?” to which he gruffly replied: “Yeah I guess.”

Just minutes after the couple retired to their bedroom chamber, a cloaked Pim slipped into his room for what would be the last time. He grabbed some belongings of his while his siblings were asleep, placing them in his now patched-up satchel. Pim knew deep in his heart that this choice was for the best in regards to his mental health…but even if most of his family were mean to him, he still loved them dearly and he couldn’t help at feeling his heart shatter over the idea of making the right choice. He swam back outside and picked four flowers to put each one near his family members. He kissed two of the flowers before placing them by his siblings’ respective bedsides, and he quietly swam into the empty throne room but not before peeking to see if his parents were still there. He thanked Neptune they went to bed already. He kissed the last two flowers and placed them on the seats. With a heavy heart and memories being brought back to him both bad and good, the little mercritter swam back out of the palace knowing even if there where nice times he had with his family, it was for the best he left them for the good of his own mental health. Once Pim was far away enough from the palace, he didn’t bother holding back the fat tears from escaping his eyes.

Charlie couldn’t sleep on nights like this when the moon was big and bright, something about it made him want to stand outside by the ocean, drink from his flask and play his ocarina. As he played his beloved instrument, he fondly recalled a childhood memory of his own when he was about 6 or 7, wearing a cape and an old hat Mr. Boss wore while armed with a little wooden sword, gallivanting around the beach while loudly-and-proudly proclaiming he was King of the Pirates. Little Charlie didn’t have much friends at that time but what he would do was based on one of Mr. Boss’ bedtime stories: writing mercritter runes in the sand and coming back later to see the response. Charlie did exactly that and eagerly waited for the response while distracting himself best he could fighting imaginary monsters and bad guys. Lo and behold Charlie always got a response, while in hindsight a Charlie figured it could have been possible that someone, perhaps even Mr. Boss was playing along writing the responses in runes, he couldn’t shake off the magical sensation he got from the afternoon ritual. If it really was a mercritter responding to him this whole time he’d be over the moon.

The next morning, King Steven and Queen Bertha made an important announcement to the guards, the servants, Alan (who was sheepishly perched on King Steven’s shoulder) and all of the kingdom: “Princess Pimberly” was missing in action, and all of Meeplantica was given an order to search far and wide for their youngest child. As contentious as Pim was to his own family, the public adored Pim for putting his heart on his sleeve (or lack thereof) through his irreverence, tender heart and adorably awkward clumsiness as he felt more relatable and authentic to the common merfolk than the rest of the haughty and “perfect” Royals…and having the most beautiful voice in the entire ocean was just the icing on the cake! After the commoners split up and swam away, King Steven turned to the residents of the castle, looking ever-so-businesslike while trying to silently hide away whatever he deemed as weakness to appear more so unshakable. “If we can overcome what happened to my father, the king before me, then this so-called crisis is just plankton on algae as far as I’m concerned, for all we know the shrimp’s pulling a fast one on us.” Damien, as much as he tried to put on a brave face for his peers, was deeply worried about Pim, regretting how complicit he was in the toxicity of the family’s dynamic. Amy on the other hand whined: “Do we HAVE to look for her?” King Steven sighed: “Well I can’t blame you for being burnt out on her antics, I swear she takes after her mother.” Queen Bertha gave her husband an icy glare for that comment, but he didn’t really give a barnacle. He pointed towards the other palace residents, demanding: “The rest of you better look high and low for my youngest and if she ain’t in one piece, It’ll be on YOU! Now MOVE IT ALONG YOU BLOKES.” Everyone scattered as King Pimling darted his eyes at the nervous Alan, and spoke in a less-furious yet still very serious tone: “You swear to Neptune you’ll fetch her home?” Alan solemnly nodded, “Yes your Majesty, I have yet to let you down.” King Steven picked Alan up and placed him on the ground to scurry away in search of Pim.

…

Of course Alan felt super conflicted about this search party! On one claw he’s been studying in the palace as a chosen prodigy since Pim was just a little tadpole, serving as the older brother Pim never really had. Unlike his actual-biological brother Damien, Pim felt more comfortable confiding to him about personal things his family would refuse to understand to save their own lives such as who he crushed on and his strained relationship with his own identity. Alan was one of the few Meeplanticans who knew Pim’s authentic self and it would boil his blood whenever Amy would stir up drama between Pim and the rest of the family. Whenever Alan was there to witness the conflict, he tried to speak up on Pim’s behalf but his pleas of defense where drown out by the ear-piercing chorus of screaming and crying, so the best he could do was console Pim and reassure him one day he’d somehow get out of this mess. On the other claw, why the hell would anyone want to knowingly bring Pim back to THAT home?! If the public had any idea what went on behind closed curtains, everyone would whole-heartedly agree that Pim would be much happier and safer inside the depths of Davey Jones’ locker than within the company of that toxic cesspool of a Royal Family. Still, Alan wanted to make sure Pim was alright so even if he wasn’t ordered to join the search party, he willingly set out to look for his friend.

#smiling friends #the little smiling mermaid au #the little mermaid au #pim pimling #charlie dompler #alan red #glep #smiling friends pim #smiling friends charlie #smiling friends alan #smiling friends glep #smiling friends fanart #adult swim #charpim

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