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sleepybobaa · 3 years ago

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why was this fr a masterpiece like 🙁🙁

▸ REASONS NOT TO KISS HER

pairing: fireborn!sapnap x fem!l’manberg!reader

SUMMARY: sapnap cares for you— maybe more than he should. and he cannot bring himself to ruin one last good thing.

WARNINGS: angst, blood, injuries, general violence, implied wilbur x reader relationship but not really, dream being a sly manipulative ass + punz, swearing, enemies to lovers/star-crossed lovers, suggestive themes, wilbur’s an ass in this one sorry, it’s just sapnap going through the five stages of grief honestly.

WORD COUNT: 14.9k (my longest imagine to the date by a lot but it’s worth it I swear)

NOTE: based on this post! I’ve been wanting to do an imagine around that excerpt for a while so,,, here we are!!! It has a few additions made by me ;))

REASONS NOT TO KISS HER

ONE: This sort of love is not allowed. You are both too soft, and the world around you is all knives and sharp teeth.

Sapnap recalls the days when they first founded the SMP — boundless lands, forests that seemed to stretch to places beyond their imagination. Rivers that flowed through the hills, weaving and curling beyond the realms of what they had discovered.

He recalls spending nights and days carrying bricks to finally finish the Community House. He remembers his first few trips to the Nether alongside Dream and George. He remembers catching Mars and Beckerson while gathering materials. And he remembers building his very first home from scratch.

What Sapnap doesn’t remember, however, is when he first started seeing walls rising over the horizon of their lands.

“We have a new visitor.”

He hears Dream’s steps before he hears his voice. There’s a certain familiarity to them— one that makes Sapnap’s shoulders drop instead of having his fingers reach for his sword.

Punz stands besides him, leaning against one of the tables from within the Community House as he picks at his nails in disinterest. Despite the relaxed air of conversation, Sapnap knows where this conversation is headed. He can tell by the way Dream’s jaw ticks, annoyed.

And before he even gets the chance to respond, George’s indifferent voice beats him to it. “Let me guess, friend of L’manberg?”

Dream rolls his shoulder, netherite chestplate making a metallic sound as he does. With a roll of his eyes he says, “Yeah.”

Punz quirks a brow, finally raising his blue gaze. “Do we know who it is?”

Dream’s jaw tightens at that, mask resting over the table as his head tilts to the side, thinking. “No.” He finally responds. Green eyes briefly meet with Sapnap’s amber ones. “We don’t.”

The nether-born quirks a brow at that, recognizing that look from a mile away. The corner of his lips twitch upward. “Sounds like you wanna change that.”

Dream’s solemn look shifts into a grin, lips curled with mischief. And as if posing a challenge, he smirks and says, “Only if you’re up for it.”

Despite the towering walls of obsidian and blackstone, sneaking inside L’manberg is not nearly as hard as Sapnap first thought.

He lands on the ground silently, weaving through the trees like second-nature. It’s an advantage they all have— they’ve spent enough time within these lands to know them like the back of their hands. Every vantage point, every blindspot. And, much to his satisfaction, it seems that Wilbur’s people happen to be strangers to the very soil they’ve named an independent nation.

This should be easy enough.

Sapnap halts on his path as soon as he hears voices up ahead, and like a knee-jerk reaction, he reaches for his sword and ducks behind an oak tree.

He waits a second. Two. Then, he peers over his hiding spot, wishing he could just barge in guns blazing as he usually does. But Dream was very clear with his instructions— he just needed to find information on L’manberg’s new possible ally. Verify how much of a threat they could be, and then report back.

It’s only once he takes a glimpse of the newly taken land that he first sees you.

The sound of your voice gets carried by the wind as you walk out of Wilbur Soot’s tacky van— and despite not being able to understand what you’re saying, Sapnap can’t deny that you’ve definitely caught his interest.

You look out of place— standing out due to your lack of a revolutionary uniform. There’s no coat wrapped around your frame, no hat atop your head, no sword by your belt. And, still, Sapnap can tell you could easily become an inconvenience. Because as soon as you step out, the so-called leader of the revolution follows.

Sapnap’s no stranger to Wilbur Soot— he’s had his fair share of encounters with him, and he’s been a pebble inside the SMP’s shoe ever since he first showed his face around the lands. One thing he’s noted, however, is how old Wilbur has always looked in comparison to his allies— not worn by war, yet still cursed with knowledge. Always looking after everyone like some mother hen, always dictating what should or shouldn’t be done. The way Sapnap sees it, it’s as if Tommy’s brother is constantly carrying a weight over his shoulders, never knowing when he’ll finally be able to set it down.

And yet, while you may not look like much, Sapnap doesn’t miss the way Wilbur seems… different. Lighter, if that makes any sense. Because as he steps off the van with a bright grin, he shakes your hand, before quickly wrapping his arms around you into a warm hug.

Sapnap doesn’t know who you are. He doesn’t know your name, your skills, or how exactly you found Dream’s kingdom. But while he may not know you, Dream has already made his judgment on Wilbur after their first confrontation. And he looks rather… thankful. Almost at ease upon seeing you— certainly a strange sight when you find yourself in the midst of a war.

And, somehow, as Sapnap makes his way back through the trees, he simply knows he’ll be seeing more of you in the future.

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TWO: No one ever taught you how to love. Your war paint and scarred hands could never hold her like she deserves.

The second time Sapnap sees you is when he’s walking down the prime path.

His netherite armor glistens underneath the sun, the enchanted glow creating a smooth violet reflection. His similar sword still drips with hoglin blood— something he’ll undoubtedly have to clean up later.

His original plan was to go stash his newly found materials back to the Community House— maybe even check Bad’s chests for any possible loot. And yet, as he strides down the worn wooden planks, with ash and a vague scent of smoke clinging to his body, he comes to a sudden halt.

Because, only a few steps ahead and standing in front of Tommy’s old house ( if you could even call it that ), he sees you.

Once again, you look oddly out of place. This time, however, he notes that you’re wearing a brand new L’manberg uniform— and for some strange reason he can’t seem to place, Sapnap’s first thought is, ‘Huh, pity.’

“Trouble in paradise?”

His sudden question nearly makes you jump, head quickly snapping in his direction. Your shoulders grow tense at the sudden interruption, fingers inching closer to your iron sword. And, at last, he finally gets to see you up close.

Pretty, he thinks almost instantly— and thank Prime he didn’t open his mouth to say it out loud. Instead, he simply tilts his head ever so slightly, an amused glint dancing in his amber gaze as he awaits your response.

“I could ask you the same thing.” You say, voice strangely even for someone who stands mere feet away from the very enemy of their self-proclaimed free nation.

And yet your stance doesn’t waver, shoulders dropping from their previous stiff state. It’s an unexpected reaction— definitely not one Sapnap was awaiting. Because the picture the two of you paint should seem threatening— you, with a mere iron sword and boots, while he stands with a full netherite armor suit and a bloody sword. It makes a dangerous curiosity brew within his chest.

You merely quirk a brow, e/c eyes flickering past him and towards the rest of Dream’s Kingdom. And then slowly, softly, as if it may get carried away by the wind, you add, “You’re a long way from home, Sapnap.”

So, you’ve heard of him. It makes a smirk curl onto Sapnap’s lips, interest spreading through his body like wildfire. Despite your first reaction, you don’t seem that intimidated. Strange, considering his track record and previous encounters with the other members of L’manberg.

You make him curious. The sort of curiosity that sets root within your bones and takes a hold of your clear judgment. And so, with the corner of his lips twitching upward, he decides that maybe, just maybe, he’ll play along for the time being.

“What can I say?” He begins slowly, yet it’s nowhere near as soft as your voice. He takes a swift step back, amber eyes doing a quick once-over of you. Then, he shrugs innocently, “A little something caught my eye.”

You furrow your brows briefly, head tilted to the side as you fold your arms over your chest. “Something?”

Sapnap’s features brighten deviously before he corrects, “Someone.”

His comment evidently takes you by surprise, impassive façade faltering as red creeps up your neck and cheeks. It makes Sapnap swell with something reminiscent of pride, smirk widening.

In a way, it humanizes you, if that makes any sense. After all, he’s only ever seen you as Wilbur Soot’s picture-perfect second in command. The one who, according to a trusted source, maintains the peace within the walls of the new country. And for Sapnap, knowing that even L’manberg’s should-be vice president isn’t immune to his advances, that you aren’t as idyllic as you were made out to be… well, let’s just say he relishes at the sight.

Yet instead of calling you out on the pink that dusts your cheeks, he simply opts to ask the question that first echoed within his mind. “You know my name.” And as it leaves his lips, he realizes it’s no longer a question, but a statement.

“That I do.”

Sapnap takes a prompt step forward, amber eyes carefully watching your expression. Much to his surprise, you don’t take a step back, and instead remain rooted to your spot.

Dark brown hair falls over his white bandana when he speaks. “I think it’s only fair that I learn yours too.”

His words spark a scoff from you, a trace of disbelief and annoyance dripping from your tone. “Right. As if you don’t already know it.” You bite, almost as if accusing him of some crime he’s yet to commit. He tilts his head to the other side, questioningly, ready to ask the thoughts lingering around his mind when you beat him to it. “I saw you spying on us the other day.”

Ah. There it is. Not a crime he’s yet to commit, but rather one he’s already pulled off, unaware that he had been caught red handed. Sapnap can’t help but wonder how he didn’t notice he’d been spotted. Did you see him right away, as soon as you stepped off Wilbur’s van, or did you catch a second-worth glimpse of his retrieving frame, blending in with the woods?

You’re smarter than he initially gave you credit for. That’s his mistake— he should’ve known what type of person Wilbur would choose for his second in command.

“You’re not getting any information from me.” You say definitively, making Sapnap furrow his brows, failing to conceal the sudden confusion etched onto his features. “You can tell Dream to try better next time.”

Dream? What does he have to do with anything? Why would he—

Oh.

Once he snaps back to his senses, cogs slowly beginning to turn inside his brain as he puts two and two together, he realizes you’re halfway out. Your back is already turned to him, Tommy’s hobbit hole left behind as you head towards the Prime Path.

And, as if he was running out of time, he quickly remarks, “Dream didn’t send me.”

Surprisingly enough, his words make you stop, at least falter for a split second— and, then again, a split second is all Sapnap needs.

He’s quick to catch up with you, voice teasing and body close as he murmurs near your ear, “But alright, I see how it is.” He hums in contentment when he picks up on the sudden stiffness of your body upon the close proximity. His amber gaze lingers on your side profile a moment too long, unable to meet your e/c, but wanting to see the reaction he caused. He enjoys it— maybe even more than he should. And yet the thought doesn’t stop him from prodding just a little more, the cadence of his voice dropping with a tinge of annoyance.

“Bet he told you I’m just Dream’s mindless soldier, huh?”

You whip your head towards him, the movement clearly without further premeditation. Otherwise, you would’ve thought of the lack of distance that would be left standing between you and the enemy— not that Sapnap can bring himself to care. Not when his fiery amber finally get to meet your e/c.

“He told me about the trees you burnt down.” You bite back, never missing the mirthful lilt to Sapnap’s actions.

To the accusation he shrugs nonchalantly, corner of his lip curving upwards. “Not my finest moment.” He says easily, and as soon as you start walking again, he chuckles. “But c’mon, are you really gonna judge me off someone else’s opinion?”

You don’t take another step, and instead offer a side-look to the stranger-now-made-acquaintance. You think about it for a second. Two. And then, with sincere yet vaguely amused tone, you ask,

“How do you know I’m not making my own judgement?”

Sapnap hums, the edges of his face rising in the slightest as mirth drips from his features. If the thought crossed his mind before, then it’s definitely sticking now— ‘cause somehow, underneath all that revolutionary bullshit, you’ve caught his interest. His nerves buzz alive when he cocks his head, tousled darkened hair falling over his bandana as he responds,

“I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

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THREE: Her heart is carved from gold, while your soul remains scarred and bruised. And why would you risk burning something beautiful when she’s already perfect from afar?

The inside of Dream’s chosen cave is cold. The air is damp, there’s a chill wind coming from somewhere, and Sapnap has to keep looking over his shoulder in case another creeper shows up.

( Not because he’s scared — trust me, he’s longed since outlived those days — but rather due to the big inconvenience they become sooner or later. )

Still, and rather reluctantly, Sapnap understands why Dream chose such a place. Why they showed up an hour before, mapping out the tunnels and memorizing every nook and cranny. For any places other spies could be hiding in, for any previously set equipment to conceal the presence of a third party. Which, if he may add ( and as George pointed out ), is absolutely stupid. After all, they’re the ones that chose the meeting place— not that any of their protests would make Dream change his mind.

Then again, the stakes are high. Which would mean — and not that he’d ever say it out loud— Dream’s paranoia is somewhat well-founded. After all, who’s to say that their spy on the inside won’t just double-cross them?

And so, after waking up at the early dawn, reaching the meeting point and searching every pathway, Sapnap stands besides Dream with a sword by his hand. A preemptive measure, he told George, as if neither of them were aware of the fact that Sapnap simply enjoys the intimidation factor a little too much.

They’ve met up with Eret before— so much so that it slowly became routine. As to how he excuses every scheduled disappearance to the rest of L’manberg, Sapnap can’t really bring himself to care. As long as he doesn’t cause suspicion to rise, then they should be good.

Sapnap’s bored amber drift away from Eret’s frame and towards George and Dream. The goggled boy appears about as bored as he currently is, yet the annoyance doesn’t take away from the daunting aura that seems to surround him. With his netherite armor looking pristine— save for a few scratches here and there— George’s apathetic attitude only seems to add to his little formidable image.

As for Dream, well— things are different, to put it simply. Sapnap often wonders what it’d be like to stand against the masked man— out of mere curiosity, of course. Because as much as Dream may make rising nations crumble at the seams, he still is Sapnap’s best friend. The same guy who he witnessed tripping to get out of a boat, and landing face first on a muddy swamp with kelp stuck to his teeth.

In short, Sapnap finds it hard to be intimidated by Dream.

He does, however, notice the effect he has over other people. Over ones he considers enemies. And Sapnap doesn’t miss the distance Eret puts between herself and the group— he’s certain Dream doesn’t either. It’s understandable, really. But as he glances towards Dream for a quick moment, he briefly realizes just how threatening his best friend appears. Standing in a dimly lit cave, with an axe in his hand and a blank stare hidden behind his mask. And that’s not even mentioning his armor which— unlike George’s— has dents and scratches, blood and ash, is dirty and clawed.

Eret, on the other hand? Well, let’s just say that the iron armor he put together isn’t exactly threatening. Sapnap’s gaze lingers on their aviator sunglasses— definitely an odd choice for a lowly illuminated cave. To each their own, he guesses, ignoring the curiosity that inches inside his chest. After all, he’s heard one or two rumors about the L’manburgian.

“—For the majority, none of them are a threat, really.” Sapnap hears Eret say, making him straighten. He zoned out again, he realizes, jaw tensing.

“L’manberg’s walls aren’t as impenetrable as they say.” He remembers Dream saying offhandedly earlier, as they searched the labyrinth of tunnels and caves. With his mask raised only slightly over his head— enough for Sapnap to notice the slight curve of Dream’s lips, bordering a smirk. “All it takes is the right person, and the right motivation.”

Sapnap narrows his eyes at the deserter. Everyone has a price. How can Dream be so certain that he’s figured out theirs?

The masked man huffs, green hood pulled over his head as he tilts it to the side. “I didn’t ask your opinion, Eret.” He states blankly, voice emotionless and cold. “I’m asking what their weaknesses are. What areas we have to press to get them to budge.”

Sapnap nearly scoffs at that. To get them to kneel. He’s been around Dream long enough to know how he operates— to notice when he’s speaking between lines. And he knows he doesn’t just want L’manberg to agree to their terms.

He wants to make an example out of them.

Eret raises his brow, almost surprised. He inhales sharply, hazel curls falling over his sunglasses before he decides to start over. “…Well, Tubbo and Tommy are kids.” He begins slowly, hand lingering near his diamond sword. It’s not enough to make Sapnap grow tense — he knows Eret’s not enough of a threat, much less against the three of them — but it’s enough to snap him out of his hazy state, carefully keeping an eye on him for any sudden moves. “Fundy’s just Wilbur’s son—”

Dream exhales, annoyance rippling from him in waves. “Weaknesses, Eret.”

Eret’s jaw ticks, and even though Sapnap can’t see, he can imagine them narrowing their eyes.

“Right.” They mutter stiffly. “Well, uh…”

Sapnap feels his back straightening. He recognizes that feeling— he’s seen it before in other people.

Is she having second thoughts?

Maybe Dream was wrong. Maybe, for once, he was wrong— and Eret isn’t as willing as she seems to give up her friends. It wouldn’t surprise him. After all, they’re the people she’s been working alongside with— allies, comrades, friends, family. It would make sense that—

“Wilbur’s a dreamer.”

The words echo and ricochet for a moment among the stone tunnels, bouncing off the walls.

Sapnap’s shoulders drop with something reminiscent of dissatisfaction, a strange taste seeping into his mouth. For some foreign reason, hearing their voice makes him stand ever so close to disappointment.

So, who would’ve thought? Dream was right.

Eret sighs. “He’s got his head looking too high to notice what happens right underneath his nose.” He pushes up his aviator sunglasses when they start to slip down the bridge of his nose. “But he’s smart. He has plans beneath plans, and he’s got a way with words.” Shaking his head, he adds, “Not so much with weapons, though.”

The masked man lets the new information sink in, taking mental notes of it, as he doesn’t doubt his two friends are doing as well. Then, a hum, “What about his second in command?” Dream asks, and Sapnap tries to stifle the way his whole body perks up with newfound interest.

You. He’s talking about you.

“Y/N.”

The three people in the room turn to Sapnap as the word impulsively leave his lips, more out of instinct than rationality. Once he voices your name, it echoes with an oddly proud undertone.

The sudden interruption earns him the most minimal glance from George, who quirks a brow, not out of confusion, but rather curiosity.

Sapnap merely shrugs, and leaning back against the stone cave wall, he attempts to downplay his piqued interest. “What? I’ve been paying attention.”

Dream chuckles at that, offering Sapnap a brief glance. “Okay, Y/N.” He corrects, dragging out your name in a way that makes a strange feeling set within his gut. It’s a foreign one, a new one— definitely not a good one. “What’s her deal?”

Eret straightens, trying to stifle any sign of hesitation. They clear their throat, folding their arms over their chest to stifle any fidgeting. “Old friend of Wilbur’s, apparently.” They say, as if reciting information that had been previously said to them. “She’s been training the ki— um, a few of us. Teaching the basics.”

George — not wanting to be left out of the interaction — finally opts to speak, arms folded over his chest with disinterest. “So, she’s a good fighter?”

“I would think so.” Eret responds, shrugging. “She keeps away from conflict for the most part. I don’t think I’ve seen her hold any weapon other than a wooden sword for training.”

Dream only hums, yet this time, Sapnap manages to miss it. You’re training the others— which should mean you know your way around weapons. Is that why you barely reacted to him back in Tommy’s old home? Why you didn’t tremble when seeing his bloody sword? He always thought himself to be intimidating— he’s bested several fighters in combat to earn that title.

“She keeps away from conflict for the most part.”

Huh. Interesting.

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FOUR: She belongs in a museum, and you are merely here to gaze. Look around you boy, all the signs scream ‘do not touch’.

The next time Sapnap sees you is by mere chance. A twist of fate. A right place at the right time type of deal— or wrong place at the wrong time. Truly, it depends on who you’re asking.

Sapnap deems himself a skilled fighter. He’s been like that long since he was a child— and has bested his friends more than once. And still, knowing he is a warrior at heart, he is well aware of the fact that his ability is nowhere near close to whenever he’s in the Nether. Sure, with the years he’s learnt to make home of the Overworld— used every edge, studied every spot that could be exploited. He learnt to make it work. But it doesn’t change the fact that he’ll occasionally — very, very rarely — feel like he’s out of his depth. Like despite all the time he’s spent living in the land of sea and sky, he’ll never be able to harness it to its full potential.

He inhales deeply, nerves buzzing alight beneath his skin. The warm scent of soot, ash and molten lava greet him home. It makes his lips twitch upward. Finally, he’s in his element.

The Nether greets him back, like a lost son finding his way home once again. He weaves through the different biomes with natural swiftness, most mobs straying out of his way with ease. It brings a grin to Sapnap’s face.

There’s another thing that the Nether has that the Overworld doesn’t. Back in the Dream SMP, mobs are a pest, a nuisance. But here? Not only do they live in peace with one another, but they can sense something around Sapnap— an aura of sorts. One that borders the line between friend and foe, and it’s enough to have them turn away from him. Whether its out of respect or out of fear, he can’t bring himself to care. All he knows is it makes adrenaline buzz beneath his fingertips, and he loves it.

As Sapnap strides through falling flows of lava — the scalding liquid feeling like a warm embrace over his shoulders — he sees it. A blink-and-you’ll-miss-it type moment. And with lava still dripping down his back, for a fraction of a second, he sees blue. A shade too cold, too unnatural. Blue— weaving through a crimson forest.

He rolls his eyes.

George.

Of course his friend was too stubborn to tell him that he was coming to the Nether.

With a tch sound escaping Sapnap’s lips, he makes a point to make his strides longer, quicker— after all, while he may be in his element, it doesn’t mean George is any less sly and swift. He reaches for his sword, and with a precise move he cuts through a few weeping vines that fell on his way.

“Alright George, what—”

His voice dies in his throat, the scene before him taking him by surprise— which is a lot to say, because Sapnap’s rarely caught off guard. And where he believed George to be, he instead finds you, clad in gold armor with three piglins lingering all too close.

Remember when he said that Nether creatures are more pleasant than Overworld ones? Well, he’d like to make a correction. Piglins — Sapnap finds — are more of a nuisance than they are helpful. One of the few species that can be stubborn enough to stand their ground to fireborns like him. And though he finds the sight to be pretty amusing, ( that with you futilely attempting to swat the creatures away from you ) he’s unable to ignore the strange bitterness yet acidic feeling that curls around his gut. He watches as the piglins’ prying hands try to reach for your armor while you gently try to back away, knowing better than to accidentally anger them. For a moment too long, Sapnap hesitates, remaining close to the edge of the crimson forest. It’s only once one of them tries to get close enough to catch your scent — the golden armor hanging from your body all too alluring for the mindless pigs — that Sapnap instinct kick in. And as if saying ‘Okay, that’s enough’, he swiftly heads towards the group.

Amber eyes briefly meet with your slightly panicked and apprehensive e/c pair. He ducks his head to his right, noting the way the piglins quickly dismiss him — too entranced with the gold reflection of the metal to pay attention to the new threat that has entered the scene. It makes Sapnap huff, feeling as a brash impulse rapidly takes hold of his body. And before he can help it or think this through, his hand is already latching onto a piglin’s shoulder, forcing him away from you and towards him.

The creature lets out an angered grunt, bones tensing until Sapnap wills his own eyes to glaze over. Call onto that sleeping fire that lies deep within his body. And, soon enough, the dim amber in his eyes turns a bright, borderline furious orange. It’s reminiscent of lava— a reminder of what Sapnap actually is beneath the human-looking exterior.

The previously surprised — and nearing angered — piglin halts. And for the first time since he showed up, the Nether-born animal finally realizes who— or rather, what stands in front of him.

Sapnap notes how the other two piglins — both evidently smaller in size, making him believe the one he stands in front of is the leader — seem to freeze, or at least tense noticeably. Sapnap’s now lava-like irises meet with yours as he offers a small nod, one you ( despite your current situation ) quickly reciprocate.

He turns back to the leader of this little troupe, allowing the molten color to fade from his eyes. The three must be scouts from one of the Bastions, or maybe just mere scavengers.

The taller piglin starts ranting in a gravelly, slightly distorted voice. It makes the fireborn straighten. Sapnap’s piglin is a little rusty— and though he picked up on it back when he was a kid, he hasn’t needed to communicate outside the realm of trading in a good long while.

He hears as the leader keeps ranting with a harsh tone — one typical of the piglin language — when he notes one of the other pigs starting to walk closer to you. Sapnap is quick to take a few steps and flick them away. The shorter one snarls, and Sapnap doesn’t miss how it was trying to lay its scent around the gold armor you donned.

He shoots it a glare, willing the glow back to his eyes as it stiffens. Even then, Sapnap can feel them lingering too close for comfort, and decides to put his arms around you for good measure. When he meets their eyes over your head, a scowl sets on his features, making them back away in the slightest. It almost— almost brings a smirk to his lips. And if some distant part of him vaguely feels you stiffening, he doesn’t show it. Instead, his now fading amber eyes remain glued to the leader.

The biggest of the three lets out a grunt and a snort— something he doesn’t doubt sounds like garbled nonsense to anyone from the Overworld. Despite the rustiness he holds over the language, he still manages to catch a few words here and there.

At one phrase in particular, Sapnap straightens painfully, eyes narrowed into a sharp glare. He can feel his jaw tensing, body growing rigid and arms tighter around you, dangerously nearing a protective manner. The impulsive, reckless part of his brain — the one that drives on pure instinct — calls for him to reach for his sword and leave their bodies to rot over the netherrack ground. And yet he keeps the fire at bay, opting to listen to the colder, more calculating side that still whispers to him to stand his ground in a less volatile way.

“No.” He seethes, venom dripping from his voice. It earns him a similar response from the leader, who squares his shoulders with a gravelly snarl. Sapnap glances towards the other two and decides to take a gamble— and if things do go sideways, using his sword is always a respectable plan. For the time being, however, he mimics a sound similar to that of the pink creatures, making the three stand upright.

The leader of the little pack narrows its red eyes, before returning to you— or more specifically, the golden armor you’re wearing. Sapnap’s gaze hardens. You shouldn’t be wearing as much gold, much less brand new armor— it’ll draw these greedy bastards out, you should know that.

The piglin’s eyes linger a moment too long, and before he can help it, Sapnap is reaching inside his bag and tossing him a couple of gold bars.

“There,” he huffs, squaring his shoulders. “now we’re even.”

The sun has long since fallen over the horizon, a dark blue — dangerously nearing black — paints the sky above you. Snow crunches beneath Sapnap’s boots, layers upon layers of hail melting beneath his feet as he heads south. His jaw is clenched tightly, his mind mocking him as he thinks of course it’s fucking snow.

For the first time in a while he thanks the dark cloak his dad gave to him, and although it doesn’t do much, it puts him the slightest bit at ease. Thankfully, he’s still coming off that Nether heat— otherwise he’d be struggling to keep a steady pace, that with the brittle cold nipping at his skin.

He’s gonna need to talk to Bad and fix the whole Nether portal network. He glances back to the tiny shape that was their gate to the Overworld. It was supposed to lead them to one of the many hills surrounding Dream’s Kingdom. Somewhere, he knows the gods are laughing down at him. And instead of finding himself home, ready to fall victim to sleep, he finds himself walking in a desolated land of ice and cold. Well…

The sound of footsteps falling heavy on the snow, shortly trailing after him remind Sapnap that this place isn’t exactly desolated. Slowly, he turns to face you— sneak a quick glance to check on you.

He doesn’t know why he decided to stick with you— or why you decided to stick with him. It was a sort of silent agreement, one neither of you wanted to speak of, apparently. You’ve both refrained from saying anything ever since your little encounter with the three Nether creatures.

You carefully watch your strides, and if Sapnap didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought you were simply minding your step. No— you’re avoiding his gaze. As to why, he’s not entirely sure.

“What did you tell them?” The sudden sound of your voice surprises him, breaking the heavy silence that had settled between the two of you. You will your strides to be longer, faster, at least enough to catch up to him.“The piglins, I mean. Back in the Nether.”

“Uh…” Sapnap quirks a brow, noting the pink blush that has taken form over your cheeks. It’s due to the harsh and cold wind, yet he can’t help but find it strangely endearing. “I told them to back off. Said I already had a claim on you.”

“A claim?” You ask, confusion etched onto your features as you draw your brows together. “What does that mean, exactly?”

His lips set into a line. “It’s…complicated.” He gestures with his hand, as if trying to find the right word. “It’s like…dating but for mobs— especially piglins.” He shrugs, ignoring the way his shoulders seem to tense. “They usually stick to their communities but they’ll occasionally stumble upon something— someone shiny and pretty enough to catch their eye.”

You flush a darker shade underneath his gaze, temperature rising within your body at his vaguely teasing accusatory edge.

“They were trying to leave their scent on you when I showed up.” Sapnap straightens, scrunching his nose. The lingering scent still wafts around you, making him stifle a huff. He hates that the higher temperatures have heightened his senses, the scent of the piglin pact pungent to him. A part of him — some deep, obscure, long since hidden away instinct — wants to take matters onto his hands. As he glances down at you, he feels the urge to try burying his face against the crook of your neck grow within his gut. To finally let the other scents fade out and allow them to be replaced by his. And he suddenly remembers why he doesn’t visit the Nether as often as he once did— especially around other people. Sapnap rolls his shoulders, shaking the thought away. Instead, his jaw and knuckles tense as he mutters “Fuckin’ magpies, that’s what they are.”

“You don’t seem to like them very much.”

There’s a slightly amused undertone to your voice that wasn’t there before. Sapnap raises a brow. “I’m surprised you do after your little encounter.”

You huff. “They were trading with me just before!” You exclaim defensively, “I even got a few—” And then, suddenly, the easy conversation is cut short. Sapnap watches as your shoulders drop, as if finally realizing who exactly you’re talking to. Now in a lower, softer, less excited tone you mutter, “A few things for L’manberg.”

“Right.” Sapnap nods, disliking the returning stiffness to the air. “Word of advice?” He asks, amber meeting e/c. “Next time, try going to the Nether in a group. Strength in numbers and all that.” Then, softer, he adds, “Going alone was a reckless thing to do.”

You think his words over for a second. Two. You nudge him. “Well, I got you, don’t I?”

You’re closer to him than you were before. Like ever since you started striding next to him, your body unconsciously drifts closer to Sapnap’s. And then, as sudden as a lightning bolt, it hits him— you’re cold. He’s nearly certain that his body is still giving off heat, and though it’ll be ephemeral, you can’t help but seek the warmth.

“Maybe counting on the enemy as back up isn’t the most thought-out plan, sweetheart.”

You look up to him, the corner of your lips twitching upwards as you try to seem nonchalant. “You’re the one who said I should make my own judgement of you.”

“Are you now?” Sapnap muses, feeling as your shoulder starts to brush against his. “How am I doing so far?”

As your e/c meet his amber once again, he finally sees the same devious glint he donned earlier. “I guess we’ll see, won’t we…” Your gaze drops, doing a slow once-over of his frame as a matching grin curls onto your lips. “…sweetheart?”

And, surely, the blush that threatens to burn his face is due to the arctic cold.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

FIVE: She’s is all cherry blossom kisses and clear blue skies, and you cannot bear to watch the life fade out from another person’s eyes.

Hours have turned into days. Days have turned into weeks. And despite himself, Sapnap keeps finding himself having serendipitous encounters with you— some by dumb luck, and others… well, let’s just say he may have taken a liking towards you.

And so what, if he has slowly started to enjoy spending time with you? You’re something new— something he hasn’t seen in these lands before. So what? Blame him for having a dangerous curiosity always toeing around his thoughts— which, oddly enough, now always seem to revolve around you.

His excuses to cover for his continuous absences have started to run out. First it was keeping a closer eye on L’manberg, then it was gathering materials, exploring nearby lands, going fishing— he’s never even gone fishing before! Sapnap is almost fully certain that the others have started to pick up on his strange behavior, though none of them have mentioned it yet. He can only imagine how things are going over on your side.

Sapnap trails shortly after you, steps unnaturally light. His whole body seems as if it’s lighter, like the spring breeze that brushes against his cheeks could carry him away.

For someone who’s been around the lands as long as Sapnap has, he’s surprised when he looks around at the place you brought him to. A surprise, you teased, knowing just how impatient he is. Still, he waited. He waited solely because of the gleeful glint dancing in your eyes. He waited only because of the slight quirk in your lips. He waited because you told him to.

Worth it, he thinks, the corner of his lips pulling upward as he looks around. It’s a narrow piece of land, hidden from prying eyes by a clear river. Rows of trees stand on each side of the river, velvet petals blooming to welcome spring. Cherry blossom trees. So what if Sapnap’s never been an avid observer of nature? It doesn’t mean he can’t start appreciating it now. Still— trees are trees. Flowers are flowers. Moss is moss. And yet — despite having seen lands beyond his days — he can’t help but feel like this place is the most beautiful riverside he’s ever seen. There’s nothing particularly special about it. Just cherry trees, water, and tall grass.

He lowers his gaze from the branches and down to your frame. You walk with a steady pace, never too quick, never too slow. This time — and much to Sapnap’s delight — you’ve opted to ditch the revolutionary uniform, instead opting to choose a longer skirt that would be more pleasant underneath the sun. Your whole being seems to glow, and even when Sapnap’s face accidentally smacks against a stray branch, it’s all worth it to hear your laugh.

Ah, he thinks, revelation sparking inside his brain, it’s not the setting that makes the place so beautiful.

It’s the company.

The blackstone walls still serve as a heavy reminder of where he is. Just in the outskirts of L’manberg, hidden away from plain sight, and yet a world away from the places he should be at. He tugs his cloak closer to him. You asked for him to bring it, just to avoid any attention either of you could get from anyone passing by.

“Penny for your thoughts?” His gaze lingers on your frame a moment too long. Amber eyes meet a curious pair of e/c.

“Nothing important, doll.”

There it is again— a nickname that seems to roll off his tongue perfectly. he doesn’t know why— all he knows is he enjoys the sight of your flushed cheeks whenever he uses it.

“You’re quieter than usual, Sap.” You muse, e/c eyes carefully scanning his face. “Are you sure there’s nothing important on your mind?”

He has to bite his tongue down to prevent him from blurting it out. If he’s being absolutely honest, he does have a few things weighing within his brain, begging to be spoken for a while already. Because the past few weeks have been a bliss. From acquaintances to friends to this— because ever since that encounter in the Nether, he can feel something has shifted. Like the universe — for once — has finally tipped in his favor. He knows this isn’t meant to last. No— this is a transitory thing, but wouldn’t it be great if it wasn’t?

Sapnap’s stare briefly drifts to the towering walls. And, as if allowing himself a moment of weakness, he wonders.

Would you join his side if he asked? No more climbing walls. No more hiding in the woods. No more sneaking around.

His jaw tenses, inhaling sharply. It’s stupid— definitely not a good idea. Because beyond the fact that he does not want to wonder how things would take a turn if you said no— at heart he knows Dream’s Kingdom won’t be the best place for you. After all, he’s already seen it take effect on some of his friends. The way the light in their eyes seem to grow dimmer, harder to see. He doesn’t want to be the reason it happens to you too.

A cold, stinging feeling crosses his chest. Dream has grown distant and aloof. George apathetic. And he has the feeling the only reason Punz has stuck around is because Dream is willing to pay. Something sour, reminiscent of jealousy festers like a weed in his chest. How is it, that despite the feeling of war that hangs from the air, everyone in L’manberg remains bright?

“What’s got you so silent today?” You ask, and this time, he takes note of the slight nervousness that hangs from your voice. Oh— you’re worried he doesn’t like this. As if he could ever dislike the sight of you, with sunlight casting around you like an angelic aura. Pretty, that inner voice repeats. Pretty, pretty, pretty. “You can tell me, you know.”

What’s on your mind?

“It’s…” He purses his lips, and before he can help himself, he finds himself blurting out, “you.”

The expression that takes over your face is one Sapnap hopes to remember for the rest of his days. First, it’s surprise— an unexpected response. Then, it starts to sink in, and heat rises to your cheeks, reaching the tips of your ears. Your lips fall open ever so slightly, e/c eyes staring back into his amber. It makes his heart beat louder, faster.

His lips part to speak, a grin starting to take over his features when—

“Y/N!”

Tubbo’s voice rings out like a bell in an open field, making both of you stiffen. His shoulders tense and your back grows taut. Amber meet e/c for a brief second. “We were looking for you everywhere! Wilbur said—”Sapnap supposes the kid finally steps into your vision, your back growing as stiff as wire. “Oh, uh, who’s your friend?”

Before Sapnap can process what’s going on, make an exit, maybe stage a fight, his line of sight is suddenly cut short. You pull down the hood of Sapnap’s cloak up to his chin, completely covering his face, a nervous laugh leaving you.

“Oh, um, no one!” You exclaim, that flustered edge to your tone almost making him smile. “He’s no one.”

No one.

Maybe it would sting a little more, if it wasn’t for how beautiful your voice sounds.

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SIX: She’s an angel gazing below, and gods— you’d climb walls and burn the lands if it meant getting a mere glance from her. How could your bloodied and soot covered hands ever deserve to hold her?

It’s night time when Sapnap sneaks into L’manberg. The moon is nowhere to be seen, hidden away by stray clouds. In other words, it’s the perfect time to enter without being spotted.

The thought weasels its way to his mind before he can help it. Is this creepy? He winces, leather bag shifting with the movement. This is definitely creepy.

In his defense, he just wants to check on you quickly. In and out. Just a moment. You won’t even notice he was there in the first place.

Punz’ words from earlier echo and rattle within his ears.

“Where have you been?” Sapnap distantly hears George ask, and despite the way his spine stiffens, this time the question isn’t directed at him. Instead, mismatched eyes stare at a certain blond’s back. His mischievous blue meet with Sapnap’s amber, as if saying, I know something you don’t.

“Ah, just around.” Punz drawls, smirk etched onto his lips.

“If you’re gonna say something, just say it.” George bites in annoyance. Well, someone evidently didn’t get enough sleep.

“Saw something you might like to hear,” he continues, disregarding George as his icy blue turn to Dream. His mask lies by one of the tables, faint scars over his face now visible. The green eyed man quirks a curious brow, intrigued.

“Is that so?”

“Let’s just say, L’manberg probably won’t be much of a problem in the next few days.” Punz says, a troublesome lilt to his voice.

“How come?” Sapnap finds himself asking, suddenly intrigued.

“I saw Tubbo and Y/N by a Nether Fortress.” Punz shrugs nonchalantly, as if he’s not the reason Sapnap’s heart has dropped to his gut. “Apparently, she got hit by a wither skeleton. And if L’manberg’s resources are as scarce as Eret claims, well…”

There it is again. That knowing, borderline irritating smirk. He’s toying with Sapnap, he’s sure of it. But he can’t know— he doesn’t know. “Let’s just say, Tommy might just get that second in command title sooner rather than later.”

Wither skeletons. Out of all the Nether creatures humans can come across, they are by far one of the worst. They leave nasty marks— in some cases, not even a health potion can do much. His leather bag seems to grow heavier at the thought. Sapnap conveniently happened to have a few spare golden apples with him. Casualty, of course. He obviously had them lying around— after all, how could he ever go harvesting apples and hunting for gold in mere hours? Psh, definitely could not be him.

It’s only once he draws near to the caravan that he first hears you.

“Why are you being like this?” Your voice, usually sweet and overall nice to listen to sounds… different. And as Sapnap strides become slower, he feels an acidic feeling settling within his body. He doesn’t like this sort of different— he’s never heard you like this before.

“It’s a yes or no question, Y/N.” The voice makes his back grow unbearably stiff, bones turning cold while fire buzzes over his nerves. What are you doing with Wilbur this late? “Have any of them approached you, yes or no?” Wilbur asks, tone as firm as steel. It doesn’t sound like this is the first time he’s asking. “I’m talking Dream, George, Sa—”

Sapnap straightens, shoulders bunching together as he leans against the side of the van. And before a coherent thought even gets the chance to fully form, you respond in a clipped tone, “None of them.” Then, your voice becomes softer— cautious. “You know I’m on your side. What’s this all about?” You wait a moment. “Wilbur.”

The self-proclaimed leader exhales sharply, tensely. “Tommy saw you talking with Sapnap a few weeks ago by his old house.” He says, voice now carrying an edge. “You know, one of Dream’s most trusted associates? His second in command?” With curiosity gnawing at him, Sapnap raises his head ever so slightly, just enough to see but avoid being spotted. Wilbur stands close to you, but there’s a distance— one that definitely wasn’t there a few weeks ago. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Your features twist, and he can tell by the look on your face that it feels like the other shoe has finally dropped. “So, you’re spying on me now?” You ask, and neither of them miss the accusatory edge.

Wilbur pinches his brows together, cheeks growing pink with embarrassment. “What? No!” He shakes his head, disarray brown curls shifting as he does. “No, no, you know I—”

Then, suddenly, Wilbur freezes.

The blush fades away, and a darker look crosses his face. The atmosphere has gotten colder, he can feel it even from the outside. Sapnap noticed— and now he doesn’t doubt Wilbur did too. You’ve yet to give him a straight answer— the only question is why?

Wilbur Soot chuckles humorlessly, a bitter, sharp edge to his tone. “Oh, I see what you’re doing.”

Your click your jaw shut, shaking your head, as if saying, I’m not dealing with this now. A sour presence remains etched onto your expression. “I’m leaving.”

You’re halfway out the van when Wilbur’s voice sparks to life once again, this time less leveled, less calculated.

“You walk out that door and you can forget about coming back.”

His words waver ever so slightly, and Sapnap holds his breath. Your limbs suddenly turn to stone, unable to take another step forward. The ultimatum — the promise — hangs in the air, looming over you like a pile of bricks that threatens to collapse on you.

It’s a bluff, Sapnao thinks. He knows it is. It should be— because, as much as he may dislike him, Wilbur Soot is a smart man. At least, smart enough for when to know he’s made a mistake.

“What?” You ask, and this time your voice is smaller, weaker.

Brown meet e/c. And although there’s an evident hesitation in his gaze, his words are cold. “You know what I said.” His jaw tenses, eyes avidly searching your eyes for the answer he seeks. He doesn’t seem to find it. “And you also know you haven’t answered my question.”

This time, a scoff escapes you, serving as a shield for the moment of weakness. Your body still feels cold, it still feels like it’s been shackled to a ball and chain. “I don’t owe you explanations, Wilbur.” You say, and Sapnap wholeheartedly agrees. His body itches to do something— to head in, maybe even cause a distraction to get you out. His mind shouts at him to just barge in, and still, he remains frozen on his spot. “But since you must know, we were just talking. He was being nice, so I returned the favor. Happy?”

Your words sting. Even when he knows — when he hopes — they are just a front for Wilbur, they still feel like a punch to the gut.

A borderline mocking chuckle leaves Wilbur and echoes within the van. He looks amused, in a strange, bitter sense of the word. “Being nice. Right.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Wilbur shakes his head, faster, with more determination than before. His jaw is tense, tense enough that it might just splinter. There’s a dancing glint in his eyes— one that looks so familiar, yet he can’t seem to place. And after a moment of scrutiny, it hits him— it’s familiar because he’s seen it before.

He’s seen it before in Dream.

Wilbur takes a step forward, frame looming over yours as he fumes. “It means he’s clearly trying to use you and you’re too blind to see it.” He says, and he doesn’t need to yell his point across. His voice is already cold enough, already spiteful enough.

You, on the other hand? You look like you’ve just taken a punch to the gut. It passes— quickly replaced by new, more dangerous emotions. You look like you want to yell. Like you want to punch him square in the nose. Hell, Sapnap would’ve kicked him to the curb ages ago. Set the rest of his fucking van on fire to make him apologize for treating you like that.

And yet that’s where the difference between the two of you lies. Where the line is drawn between sea and sand.

You surprise him once again by lowering and relaxing your squared shoulders. You take a deep breath. In. Out. You swallow, feeling as your chest slowly unwinds. As the knots become loosened, untangled.

“Look, Wil,” You begin softly, tentatively. He doesn’t deserve it, Sapnap thinks. He doesn’t deserve any of it. Wilbur visibly stiffens, brown searching your gaze for an ulterior motive. “We’re both tired, okay? So, I’m gonna go back to my cabin, we’re gonna get some sleep,” you lick your lips, inhaling a small breath, “and you can talk to me again once you’ve let go of your paranoia.”

The silence stretches a moment too long. You’ve left him speechless. You’ve left them both speechless. And yet there’s a fragility to your movements, to your words. Like if he had pressed just a moment longer, you would’ve finally cracked. Finally snapped.

Now, however, you take a hesitant step forward, briefly closing the distance between you and the brunet. But it’s no longer the same— and it doesn’t even begin to compare to how you both were when you first arrived.

Brown meet e/c. You sigh softly, and gently press your lips against his forehead, feeling as he grows tenser underneath your touch.

“Goodnight.”

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SEVEN: She touches you like you’re fragile, and if you break you won’t be able put yourself together again.

The sound of dripping water was long since faded away from Sapnap’s ears. It’s odd— that feeling of drifting away, of the buzzing world fading to black with him being unaware.

Sapnap has always prided himself in his sharp instincts, and yet you make it easy. You make it so, so easy to simply relax, to drop his shoulders, to lean back and let you guide his movements. It’s almost like falling asleep, like letting your body be guided by the flow of a current.

While he sits with his two legs spread out, you remain sat between them, gently leaning forward as you scan the side of his face. Sapnap carefully follows your focused eyes, then your hands, as they reach to inspect one particular bruise.

Like the flow of a current. And yet, even the calmest waters can have dangerous turns.

He feels his fists tightening over his own lap. He wants to confront you about Wilbur. He wants to ask you, to hear what you have to say. And it’d be so easy— because you deserve more than this. You deserve more than living in a tiny wooden cabin, than remaining trapped between four walls. Better yet, you deserve more than following him, than having to stand every fit, every accusation. And Sapnap knows— he knows you’ve been nothing but kind to Wilbur— and he has yet to have seen him return it.

But things are complicated ( hell, aren’t they always? ) because he wasn’t meant to be there— he wasn’t meant to listen to that conversation. He wasn’t meant to know. But he does— and that’s an issue, isn’t it?

“What is this?” You murmur, making the boy beneath you straighten. His dazed amber blink a few times as you lean back, putting some distance between you. His hand instinctively reaches for the spot you gestured, making him wince. As far as he can tell, it’s a pretty bad bruise— one by the side of his jaw. There’s a cut— one he hadn’t taken note of before he came here.

You shake your head, turning on the faucet by your side and dipping a piece of cloth. You exhale, leaning closer to clean the bothersome injury. “You should be more careful, you know. I can’t keep patching you up like this.”

His amber meet with your e/c as you look back up to see his gaze. You’re close— too close. Sapnap gently shakes his head, the corner of his lip curving upward as he chuckles. “But then I wouldn’t have an excuse to come see you.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes playfully as you slowly set the cloth down. “And yet you still visit.”

“Yeah,” he begins slowly, softly— uncharacteristically soft. You feel his fingers wrapping around your waist— and, strangely enough, you don’t stiffen this time. Because something has shifted— you both know that. It no longer feels like walking around broken glass, but rather a familiar path. Sapnap leans closer, carefully setting his chin over your shoulder. And with his lips ever so close to your ear, he hums, “but this way I get to be closer to you.”

Your cheeks explode with red warmth, heart stuttering within your chest at the words. Gods, he’s so— so—

“Idiot,” You mutter, matching his quiet tone.

You two remain in that position for a few moments, nestled against each other, basking in the seconds of peace— of silence. The ephemeral moments in which the world is asleep, when walls and alliances don’t exist, when it’s only you and him.

Sapnap inhales quietly, body relaxing as he leans against you. Amber eyes slowly flutter open after a few seconds, before they land on his bag. He bites his tongue before reluctantly shifting away from you, now face to face.

“I found a few golden apples in one of my chests.” He says after a beat. “I… thought you could give them a use.” He sees the way your brows furrow together, lips parting, about to protest. After all he’s the one with wounds being treated not you— which you should know is a pretext to see you. Because, yeah, maybe Sapnap is a little banged up, but he’s seen worst days. And, if he’s being honest, he couldn’t have cared less about his own bruises. Hell, add it to the list of untreated injuries he’s had during the past years and move on. And yet…

And yet here he is. Sitting in front of you like some banged up puppy— which should feel embarrassing, but somehow it doesn’t. Because instead of humiliating thoughts, Sapnap finds himself thinking about how warm and comfortable you feel next to him. About your conversation with Wilbur. About what Punz told Dream at the Community House. And, soon enough, he’s realizing every single one of those thoughts revolve around you.

And fuck, he should be kicking himself because shit he’s down bad— six feet under type of bad. And yet he can barely process the thought when a new one sends his mind is reeling back. His fingers tighten around your waist slightly, gaze hardening.

“I heard about the wither incident.”

You straighten underneath his grip, e/c gaze meeting his evenly. Something flickers within your eyes, a glint Sapnap doesn’t manage to place before it’s gone. You shake your head, the corner of your lips twitching upward. It doesn’t reach your eyes. “I’m okay, Sap. You don’t need to worry about me.”

I want to.

Sapnap bites the inside of his cheek, turning to look away. When he leaves — which he’ll have to do before the sun rises, before the people of both L’manberg and the SMP wake up — he’ll leave his bag there. By mistake, he’ll tell himself, knowing those three golden apples will be put to better used by you than him.

But for now, he sits. He lets you clean and cover his bruises, offering a smile to wave off Sapnap’s concerns. And as you tend to his injuries, he notices your gaze is too gentle. That bright look in your eyes is too naïve.

He looks away, feeling as his insides curl with a sour feeling weeding there. Thoughts of tomorrow. Thoughts of the real world— the one that lies outside your cabin, the one that will await you both in mere hours.

Yet here you are.

And, gods, he will not be the one to tell you that not everything can be fixed with a smile.

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EIGHT: If you jump, she might catch you, and then you’d have to watch as she tumbled through the dark.

The sun has long since risen over the walls of L’manberg, and the country is quiet.

It’s eerie, strange, unseen. Because as soon as sunlight touches the land, L’manberg is already coming alive with its people waking up. It’s peaceful on occasion, sure, but its never quiet.

You turn to look around, wondering if you somehow missed something. Everyone— everything— seems to have fallen asleep without previous notice, even when it’s well past noon.

It’s as if the world around you is preparing, bracing for something. But for what, exactly?

“What the hell?”

The voice comes from the forest— the one that grows just by the west wall. It’s Tommy’s voice, that’s a given— yet it sounds different. It’s enough to send alarms through your mind, and with quick instincts you reach for Fundy’s axe and hurry to the trees.

“Don’t fucking move.”

You’re met with Tommy’s back, blond head of hair looking down at something. You can’t manage a good look, that with Tubbo and Eret’s backs facing towards you. You weave through branches, jaw tense. “Tommy, what’s—”

The blue eyed boy turns to face you, shoulders stiff and nostrils flaring. You move your head ever so slightly, gaze flickering back to Eret, who shares a similar stance to Tommy’s. “What’s going on?”

The boy moves to the side, and you swear your heart drops to your gut. Because standing in front of the three boys, with hands cuffed together with a pair of metal bands, is Sapnap. His hair is a mess over his white bandana, eyes dead set forward as he avidly avoids your gaze. His face is bruised with injuries you’re certain weren’t there a few night ago. There’s a cut by his cheek, a bruise by his jaw and an arrow by his shoulder. You take a hesitant step forward, eyes never leaving his frame. They look new— brand new. This isn’t— this wasn’t a fair fight.

Wilbur’s words from your first days echo within your ear drums. Everything’s fair in war, dove.

You should know that.

“We saw him climbing the wall.” Tubbo begins stiffly, sharing a look with Tommy. “He was trying to get into L’manberg.” He reports, voice uncharacteristically monotone.

You inhale sharply, finally taking your eyes off Sapnap and onto the other three. You nod at Eret, jaw tight. “I’ll take it from here.”

Tommy’s shoulder bumps against you as he once again takes a stance in front of you, snarl curling onto his lips.

“No, no, I will.”

Tommy glares down at Sapnap, and although his back is stiff and his shoulders are bunched, you can feel the resentment radiating off him in waves.

“Tommy—” Eret begins.

“No, no, you know what?” Tommy snaps, temper slowly getting a hold of him. And yet, despite the evident anger in his tone, its not directed at Eret— it’s not directed at you, either.

For the first time since you got there, Sapnap looks up. Not by choice, anyway. You don’t realize when Tommy unsheathed his sword. You only feel as needles of anxiousness prick against your skin all at once, watching as the boy uses the sharpened iron to lift Sapnap’s head.

“You’re the reason we had scarce food in the beginning. Why we had less access to resources from the start.” He bites out.“You’ve been a thorn at our side for long enough, bitch.” And despite the words are leaving his mouth, it doesn’t sound like Tommy at all. If anything, he’s starting to sound like Wilbur.

“Wilbur said we’d need something to assert that we’re not messing around. That we’re not pawns in a game Dream is here to play.” Tommy’s jaw clenches and unclenches. “This is war.” He says solemnly, finally. “And wars have casualties.”

The world warps around you, and if you’re being completely honest, you’re not sure what happens. One moment, you’re watching Tommy ( Tommy, the same boy that used to have bright blue eyes— eyes you don’t recognize anymore ) raising his sword. Time slows down. Then, you’ve risen your axe as well. Time speeds up. And then—

“Stop.”

You’ve risen your axe, yes— you’ve risen it against Tommy. You don’t know when— you don’t know how this happens. But it’s too late, and the damage has already been done.

“Tommy, drop the sword.” The boy freezes, as do Tubbo and Eret beside him. They both have swords, you realize, yet none of them dare to move. They can’t move. You inhale deeply, trying to hide the way your wrist trembles. “I’m only gonna say it once, Toms. Drop it.”

Tubbo scrambles to speak, unable to find the right words. He takes half a step forward, blue eyes confused. “Y/N, what are you—”

Tommy turns around, eyes equally puzzled as Tubbo’s— but there’s something different. Something you can’t— you don’t want to place. His chest rises and falls.

And then, he drops his sword.

“Now back away. Slowly.”

Your heart hammers against your chest, your knees want to give out, and your limbs feel as if they’re made of wire. Despite your throat feeling as if there’s stones lodged inside of it, you hold onto your axe like a lifeline. You hold it up to defend the same boy that you should be standing against. You hold it up to defend Sapnap.

And there it is— because he knew. All things burn out eventually and he knew. And like an long awaited omen, here it finally is.

Your own fall from grace.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

NINE: She is too good. She is so good, and you cannot bring yourself to ruin one more good thing.

Huffs and pants. Ducks and parries. Swings and misses.

Dream and Sapnap sparring was routine to them long before the war started— months before L’manberg even existed. Once, it had just been the two of them. Laughing, teasing, mocking, promising to make the other kiss the floor.

By now, they both have each other’s movements memorized. The way Sapnap is more brutish, while Dream is more calculating. How Sapnap will go for the chest, while Dream will aim for the legs. One will jump and the other will duck, one will pull and the other will push.

In a different world, they would’ve been each other’s perfect enemy.

Just as Sapnap is about to land another blow with his sword, amber eyes briefly catch sight of a silhouette outside. It’s a jarring sight, especially considering he’s looking right outside the Community House — ergo, their territory. Because there you are, underneath the glowing sun, sitting by the edge of the bridge with your feet inside the river water.

Dream hits the back of his knee, almost making him lose his balance. Amber eyes narrow at a smug pair of green.

“What’s got you so out of it today?” He asks as he takes another swing at Sapnap, who narrowly ducks before striking back. Metal clashes against metal.

Sweat clings to his forehead, dark brown hair falling messily over his white bandana. “Nothing.”

“Don’t worry,” Dream’s lips quirk upward into a knowing smirk, voice deceptively understanding. “She looks like she’s enjoying the new company.

Sapnap pushes Dream back with his sword, a pit forming within his stomach at his words. And, before he can help himself or even think better of it, his eyes are flicking towards the window. True to his word, you’re standing outside with Punz, who stands too close for comfort. The blond hovers near you, that damning smirk clinging to his lips as he tilts his head slyly. He mouths something that Sapnap isn’t quite able to get. What’s he saying to you? Why’s he—

Dream ducks and sweeps his leg, sending Sapnap straight onto the mat with a loud oomf. A groan escapes him at the sudden hit, though it’s not nearly as painful as his bruised ego.

Green eyes peer down at him with a grin, before offering a hand. Sapnap rolls his shoulders as he takes it, standing back up. He runs a hand through his hair, ruffling it, before his eyes return to you.

Dream raises a brow— not curious, but intrigued, if that makes any sense. Not unknowing, but rather wanting to pick Sapnap’s brain.

“You’re distracted.” He states bluntly.

Sapnap rolls his eyes, finally moving along and tossing the practice sword onto one of the tables. “Thanks.”

Dream chuckles, a similar sound echoing as he mimics Sapnap’s actions. He tilts his head to the side. “You’ve gotten soft, you know?”

Sapnap turns to face his friend, folding his arms over his chest. “Oh, really?”

Dream only shrugs nonchalantly, golden hair and green eyes the picture of innocence— but he knows better. Because one of the many advantages of having someone like Dream as a friend is that, with time, you learn to read him. Not like an open book — Sapnap’s certain that’s not possible when it comes to Dream — but rather highlighted words in a redacted document. Not clear intentions, but enough to see the puzzle pieces of a blurred picture. Dream shrugs as he heads towards the window. “Gotta say, she’s full of surprises.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sapnap scoffs, and to any stranger, he would have sounded amused— like an inside joke between friends. But Dream hears the faint stiffness to his words, the sourness, the tentativeness.

It’s Dream’s turn to look down at you— in a literal sense, of course. You’re… intriguing. At least, in the same way a riddle is. His green briefly glance at Sapnap, who’s joined him by the glass pane. He’s interested as to the effect you’ve had on his friend— as to what you plan to do next. And Sapnap may have let his guard down already, but Dream? Well—

The freckled man drops his shoulders with a lazy smile. It’s calculated, meticulously designed— and this time, Sapnap misses the intentions behind it.

“Don’t know. I kinda always thought she’d end up with Wilbur.” He nudges his friend’s shoulder. “I mean, all it takes is one glance at them, well…” he notes the way Sapnap stiffens, making Dream quirk a brow. “They certainly look the part.”

Amber meet green. His voice sounds hoarse, unsure. “You think so?”

The green eyed one nods. “Oh, yeah, absolutely.” He gestures with his hand. “I mean, it only takes a look to figure it out, don’t you think? They look like they’re cut from the same cloth. Whereas us…” Dream’s gaze shifts down to the scars in their hands, before flicks his fingers against Sap’s chestplate, sweat dripping down his forehead.

“Well, something tells me you’d much rather have a sword than a pen.”

Sapnap tightens his jaw, before pushing himself away from the window and towards the stairs. “Whatever.” He mutters, missing the way Dream’s lip twitches upward.

He hates it, but Dream has gotten into his head.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

TEN: You will not watch her crumble under the weight of your sins. She is too light, too breathless to be caught up in the dizziness of your heart.

“Hey, you okay?”

You nudge Sapnap’s shoulder with your own, making him sag a little to the side. Curious eyes peer down at him, brows raised upward. The water of the lake kisses Sapnap’s ankles and legs, colorful fish close enough that if he wanted, he could reach over and touch them.

Sapnap hasn’t always liked water. In fact, when he first stumbled upon the Overworld, he found it repulsive, the mere sight of it making him want to back up. Now, however, he relishes in it. A small, fleeting semblance of peace in a world of chaos.

“Huh?” Sapnap shakes his head, snapping back to his senses. He licks his lips. “Yeah. Yeah, fine.” He exhales softly, a bittersweet expression taking over his features, amber gaze drifting away from the lake and onto you. “I feel like I should be the one asking you that.”

Perhaps you hope he doesn’t notice the way your breath seems to hitch for a moment, a split second of tenseness before reverting back to an easy smile. He does— he always does. You gnaw at the inside of your cheek, nodding your head slowly. “I’ll… I’ll be okay.”

It’s a lie. Even if you’re unaware of it, it’s a lie. Because, yes, Sapnap wanted you to come with him. Yes, he wanted you to leave those obsidian walls behind and join him. But he wanted it to happen under your own terms. He wanted it to be your decision, not your only option.

Sapnap’s jaw ticks. You deserve more— so much more. And it’s unfair that this happened to you— that it happened because of him. All because he wanted to take a risk and see you during the day, knowing, fucking knowing that it was a stupid call to make.

You look back at him, amber eyes conflicted. He inhales sharply. He wants to say something else, he does, but before he gets the chance, he hears footsteps behind them. They’re not light at all— if anything, they’re obnoxiously loud. As if they’re trying to make their presence known.

Amber eyes meet with Punz’s icy blue ones. His white hood rests over his head, yet still revealing stray blond tufts of hair. The mercenary tilts his head, axe slung over his shoulder with his other hand stuffed inside his pocket. “Dream wants to see you in the planning room.”

Sapnap rolls his eyes, a light scoff resonating within his chest. “Tell him I’m busy.”

Punz raises a brow, almost amusedly. “I wasn’t talking to you.” His blue drift away from Sapnap’s now straight frame, and center around you. The corner of his lip twitches upward, and Sapnap’s jaw tenses. “He wants to see Y/N.”

“Me?” You frown, puzzlement etched onto your features. As you stare back at Punz, you manage to miss the way Sapnap’s hand inches closer to yours, almost as if wanting to reach for you and pull you away from the mercenary. “Why?”

Punz shrugs, almost too nonchalantly. It makes Sapnap narrows his eyes. “You know the ins and outs of L’manberg, don’t you?” He clicks his tongue, taking his hand out of his pocket and offering it to you. “All information is valuable at times like these… wouldn’t you agree?”

If asked to place the sourness that spreads throughout his chest almost instantly, Sapnap wouldn’t be able to answer. It’s… odd. Unfamiliar. It started spreading as soon as Punz began talking, and for the life of him, Sapnap cannot tell what it is. All he knows is that he hates it.

You hesitantly reach for Punz’ hand, reluctantly standing up from the lakeside, when Sapnap’s hand latches onto your other wrist. You turn down to look at him, only to find his gaze dead-set on the blond.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He says, voice cold. And surely, you agree.

Punz quirks a brow, cocking his head to the side. “Yeah?” He asks condescendingly. “I don’t remember asking.”

Sapnap’s body grows tense, and he’s ready to stand up and knock that cocky smirk off his lips, when you stop him. You simply offer a smile. It’s not a genuine one— he’s seen enough of those to know the difference. “It’s— okay.” You lick your lips, biting down your tongue. And Sapnap doesn’t miss the way your body looks straighter, stiffer. “I’ll handle this, yeah?”

He wants to say that no, it’s not okay. Because despite understanding Dream’s want for information, it’s too soon. You’ve barely joined a few days ago. The scars are still too new, too fresh.

And as he watches you walk away, Sapnap can’t help but think how fucking unfair this whole situation is.

And so, hours continue to pass, the sun already nearing the horizon once again, and you’re still nowhere to be seen. Something reminiscent of concern itches at Sapnap’s gut, fingers distractedly picking at blades of grass to try and ease his mind.

He has yet to move from the spot where you left him at. After all, you’re not all that familiar with the place. So, he agrees it’s a good idea to remain at a site he knows you’ll be able to find.

Then, as he lays against the ground, he hears it. Distantly, almost getting carried away by the wind, he finally hears your voice.

Relief and delight crawl onto his chest (and gods, is he really that smitten with you?), and before he can even make sense of his actions, he’s turning around, ready to stand up and greet you—

And then he sees it.

In the distance, maybe all the way across the Community House, he sees Dream walking beside you. It… it almost sounds as if he’s laughing, yet he’s wearing his mask. Which means he’s not letting his guard down— he’s using you. As for what, Sapnap can only imagine.

That sourness from earlier returns, except this time is more acidic, more dangerous. And just when he’s about to stand up and see for himself what Dream is planning this time, a voice snaps him out of his reverie.

“She can handle herself.” Bad murmurs, so softly, yet so unwavering. His dad barely even offers him a glance, eyes boring into a small book by his lap. The man raises his gaze only slightly, but it’s enough for Sapnap’s shoulders to slump at his sides. “There has to be a reason why Wilbur had her as his second in command, right?”

There’s truth to his words— there always seems to be. Much like you, Sapnap’s dad doesn’t quite fit in with the rest of the people from the SMP. It’s… odd. Makes you wonder why he ever accepted joining Dream’s Kingdom, when he prefers to keep away from conflict. And there’s something so… calming about his presence. Like he always knows what to say.

Sapnap inhales sharply, and exhales softly. “Yeah.” He mutters, mostly for his dad to hear. He vaguely registers George lingering nearby, knee-deep into the lake, but opts to ignore him for the time being. Bad’s right. There’s a reason why you were Wilbur’s second in command— you’re quick, clever. And yet everyone can commits mistakes. Misteps. And in a new environment, surrounded by the same people you were told to stand against, well— that’s enough to throw anyone off balance, isn’t it?

Bad hums. “Something on your mind?”

Sapnap bites his tongue, turning to look away from him before nodding. “Yeah.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.”

Bad nods with a small shrug, watching as his gaze turns back to focus on you. “Okay.” He says quietly, tilting his head curiously. “Well…” Sapnap’s gaze turns to Bad. “If it makes you feel any better, she looks at you the same way you’re looking at her right now.”

A pink heat creeps onto his cheeks. “What?” He asks, more out of surprise than an actual question. Bad simply returns to read the book by his lap, lips curled into a small smile.

Sapnap bites his cheek. Okay, now he sees it. He’s messing with him. Ha ha, funny. “How exactly, huh?”

George — who up until that moment had remained a silent listener — finally parts his lips to speak, before Bad swiftly cuts him off. “Ah, too complicated to explain.” He waves him off. “You’ll figure it out.”

Sapnap furrows his brows, turning to George, who shuts his mouth closed, shakes his head, and rolls his eyes— all as if to say, fine, suit yourself.

Eventually, Bad decides it’s time for him to head back home, and bids them goodbye before heading down the prime path. And yet, despite his absence, his words still create a weird echo in Sapnap’s mind. He tries to shake it off more than once, but it always ends up coming back to him.

“Alright.” George clasps his hands together, before reaching for a bucket with a tropical fish swimming inside it. “I’m going head back for now.” He turns to Sapnap expectantly, who still remains sprawled against the grass.

“What?”

George huffs. “Are you coming?”

Sapnap groans exaggeratedly, making George let out a vague sound of displeasure to hide his amusement. “Ugh, fine.”

The two head down the wooden path towards George’s still unfinished home. As of the moment, it only has one room with all four walls up— and there’s no one to blame except for George’s laziness.

You’ll figure it out. And just like that, that nagging echo is back. You’ll figure it out—that’s what Bad told him earlier, wasn’t it? Figure out what, exactly? Sapnap’s gaze drifts off to George. He looked like he knew what Bad was talking about, right?

Sapnap licks his lips, clearing his throat. “Hey, uh, what was that all about?” George’s apathetic brown meet with Sapnap’s amber. The former raises a questioning brow. “With Bad, earlier?”

Recognition sparks in his eyes. “Oh.” George says simply. “You mean about Y/N?”

“Yeah.”

George stares at him for a moment, ever so unreadable, before a snort escapes him. It makes Sapnap straighten, while the latter looks awfully confident— as if he’s certain he knows a secret Sapnap’s not privy to. “You’re a clueless idiot, you know that, right?”

Sapnap’s lips twist. “What the hell?” He shoves the brunet to the side, making him stumble. “Okay then, fuck you too, George.”

A laugh leaves George, as if the whole situation is so unbelievably entertaining to him. He covers his mouth to stop another fit of laughter. “Oh my gods, do you just genuinely not know?”

Annoyance creeps onto his tone. “Know what?”

George blinks once, twice. Then, he stares as his friend for a moment, looking at him as if Sapnap’s suddenly grown another head. “That girl literally turned her back on her friends, on her country for you.” He begins, shaking his head. “And you’re too much of a coward to accept the fact that you have feelings for her.” Then, he shrugs relaxedly, as if he’s not the reason Sapnap’s ears have turned red with embarrassment and something he’s unable to place. “To be fair, she probably does too.”

George continues to walk, bucket hanging from his hand, barely acknowledging the fact that his Nether-born friend is no longer walking besides him.

Sapnap heart stutters inside his chest, a warm, familiar heat taking over his whole body.

“She what?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

By the time Sapnap comes back to the lake, he’s surprised to see you sitting by his previous spot, warm rays of sunlight against your back as you lean against your palm. He walks towards you rather hesitantly, this time with a flutter in his heart that he hadn’t noticed before. Or perhaps it always was there, and he just couldn’t tell what it meant.

Sapnap takes a seat next to you before he even realizes he’s strayed away from the prime path. He licks his lips before asking, “How did everything go?”

You inhale sharply. “Um, fine.” You bite your tongue, turning to face him— this time without a smile, neither genuine nor fake. You exhale. “I… I think.”

Sapnap licks his lips, watching as your hand falls besides you instead of your lap. It’s close to Sapnap’s hand— maybe too close. But this time, he finds he likes it. Even without touching, feeling that warmth he always finds himself chasing.

“Earlier you said you were okay.” Sapnap sets his lips into a line, shifting on his spot as he turns to get a better look at you. “It’s alright if you’re not… okay.” He’s awful at this. He can feel pink starting to dust his cheeks— because gods this is embarrassing. He clears his throat awkwardly. “What I’m trying to say is things changed. Quickly. But, um,” Sapnap inhales softly. “I just wanted to say, uh, thank you.” He nods slowly, as if in affirmation. “for what you did back in L’manberg.”

You don’t smile, he notices. Instead, you simply nod curtly before averting your gaze towards the lake. “Don’t take it to heart.” He frowns. “Tommy… he’s just a kid. Reckless, but still an impresionable one.” You scoff, shaking your head. “He was just reciting bullshit Wilbur’s said in the past.” You turn to him again. “It was… nothing. Anyone would’ve done the same.”

“Stop doing that.”

You raise your brows, surprised by Sapnap’s sudden cutting tone. “Doing what?”

“Selling yourself short.” He shakes his head. “Playing it off as if you don’t do great things for others— for me.” He watches as your gaze softens, his voice nearly cracking. It’s a weight, a pile of stones, still on his shoulders, yet about to fall. “You could’ve chosen to stay quiet. To watch the others do whatever they planned on doing.”

He stops for a moment, and you watch as this boy — the same boy with those beautiful amber eyes and pretty brown hair — looks like he may just crack open in front of you.

Sapnap’s voice grows quiet. “And yet you helped me.” He says, slowly, unsurely. “And I don’t really think I deserved it.”

You turn your head, leaning closer to face him. “Sap…”

He shakes his head vehemently. “Just—” he stops, reconsiders, and continues, “I-I don’t know if you made the right choice, okay?” Your hand is close, so close— and this time, he decides to reach for it. It’s tentative, hesitant, and he feels as if his heart might explode when you intertwine your fingers against his. “There’s no turning back from here. And if I’m being honest, I don’t think this place is the best place for you.” He licks his lips. “What I’m trying to say is…” Amber meet e/c. And it’s different this time. Because things have shifted one too many times between the two of you, and yet this is different. A new sort of different.

“I’m here for you. You know that, right?”

You nod, the corner of your lips curling into a small smile. “I know.” You murmur, eyes carefully scanning his face. “And you don’t need to worry about me.”

Your words ring a familiar tune. He remembers it clearly— back in your cabin. Back before everything went to shit. He remembers the warmth, the closeness, the you don’t need to worry about me, Sapnap.

This time, Sapnap doesn’t bite his tongue.

“But I want to.”

And there it is. That feeling stirring inside his chest— he doesn’t know what it is. But he’s felt it before. Almost like a swarm of butterflies in his gut, a heat in his chest. He knows it because he felt it when you encountered each other in the Nether. When you trudged back, perhaps too close to call each other the enemy. When you met by the cherry blossom trees, craving each other’s presence too much to be mere acquaintances. When he went by your cabin, wanting to stay close to you, near you— with you.

He’s leaning closer. His eyes shift from your eyes and down to your lips. He can feel your hand closing around his, and he’s certain his heart skips a beat when you do.

Not enemies, not acquaintances, not friends.

He swallows, remembering what George told him only less than an hour ago. There’s a blush on your cheeks— one he only notices because of your closeness — but it’s enough to make him smile. Pretty, pretty, pretty.

What does that make you?

The butterflies are there again. The skipping heart, the blush on his cheeks— he’s down bad. But it doesn’t sound too awful, does it?

Amber eyes meet your own. He’s close to you, so close in fact, that your nose nudges against his. Your e/c flutter closed as he inhales shakily.

He leans in, hoping, praying, that this isn’t him be misreading this whole situation.

Your lips meet his with a smile.

REASONS TO KISS HER

ONE: She loves you, and her eyes are closed, and didn’t your father ever tell you not to leave a good thing waiting?

ADDITIONAL NOTES… thank you for reading!!! this one took over two months to finish writing so i hope you enjoyed! please try to leave a comment and reblog as they’re the main thing that keeps me writing <3 even if it’s just a keyboard smash, i love to read all of them :DD

GENERAL TAGLIST… @sushisoot @nonsensicallynarnian @krazykupcakes113 @god1ngs @incorrectarrowverse @scootersmccall @wingedghostpepper @bubblezbee (shoot me an ask to be added!)

#dsmp sapnap

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sleepybobaa · 3 years ago

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WHAT

watching spree rn

why is my back arching-

721 notes · View notes

sleepybobaa · 3 years ago

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this is so cute omg

𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐧 | c. saeyoung ఌ

☀︎ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: another break, another time he gets to see you. but he’s tired of watching another route go by as he continues to watch you flirt with someone who isn’t him. so this time, instead of watching, he does something about it

☀︎ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 707 x gn!reader

☀︎ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff and angst

☀︎ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: self doubt, angst, zen route spoilers, the reset theory

☀︎ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫´𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: I love the other routes, don’t get me wrong! but saeyoung is my favorite, I even have his sweater ! :D so knowing about the reset theory.. makes me sad knowing someone I genuinely would date if he was real has to watch us love someone else so without further ado, enjoy something I wish was real <33

You yawned as you saved and exited out of a chatroom. Jeez, your sleeping schedule really hates you whenever you decide to play Mystic Messenger. But as always, it’s worth it to you.

2am, wow. That’s the latest you’ve gotten to sleep early when playing the otome game. But once you’re about to exit out of the app, you receive a call from the messenger.

707 is calling you.

..what?

You’ve played Zen’s route a couple of times already and you can’t remember this specific chatroom even having a phone call after it’s done. You blinked before pressing on the accept call, looking down at the English words translated.

“Hey.. you should be sleeping.” A chuckle came from his end.

But instead of hearing Seven’s korean voice.. you heard english.

This really couldn’t be happening. You thought maybe you heard wrong, but then he spoke to you again.

“You’re not replyinggggggggg, come on, space partner. I can hear your breathing, you weirdo.”

You sighed before lifting your phone to look at the options, only to find none available. You titled your head, wondering how you were supposed to reply. Until a box had appeared on the screen.

‘Speak into the phone like an actual phone call! Seven can hear your voice.’

… okay… now this is really weird.

You cleared your throat before lifting your phone to your ear, acting like it was a real life phone call.

“..Seven?” You replied.

“Oh finally, I was wondering when you’d answer. You should be sleeping, dummy.” His voice immediately replied.

A small laugh escaped your lips, causing him to heat up on his end.

Seven knows he’s not supposed to mess with the rules of the game. He knows he shouldn’t have called you and he knows.. he shouldn’t be trying to pursue you either.

But can you honestly blame him?

You were so perfect in his eyes. Someone he desperately wanted. Yet, couldn’t have.

Finally, you had time to play the game again. And he really missed you so seeing that you’ve logged in made him excited.

That is.. until you picked the causal story and pursued Zen.

Why Zen?

I mean, It’s not as if Seven hates him, no it’s the complete opposite. Zen is his family and he’s always thinking about him. But it just didn’t seem fair.

Saeyoung followed the rules.

He gave up his life for his brother, he became an agent to support him and his brother, he gave up a comfortable life in settling down, he gave up the safety he once had—

Why should Seven have to give you up?

“Look who’s talking, you should be sleeping too, Mr. Secret Agent.” You laughed into the phone shortly after.

Mystic Messenger was a game that made you feel safe. Not only did it have adoring characters but it provided a feeling of safety for you, especially when it came to Seven.

“Ahh, you’re threatening a secret agent now, huh. Guess I’ll just have to arrest you.”

“You can’t do that, dummy.” Another laugh.

Yea, you were perfect alright. He smiled into his phone, grateful that for once, he did something selfish and disobeyed the rules of the game and all because Seven wanted to hear his favorite player’s voice, you.

Seven doesn’t know why exactly he’s attracted to a single player. If you asked him, he’d probably come up with some cheesy pick up line or tell you how you matched the brightness in the late night sky that he enjoys so much.

“Pfft- how are you doing, tonight? So, Zen, huh? I’m sensing some explosive chemistry there.”

But he continued to be supportive because that’s part of his programming.. being supportive of Mc’s decisions. After all, if you were going to marry him in the space station, support in each other as partners was necessary..

“I’m good, Seven. Also haha, don’t be weird. You know Jaehee would be upset about it.” You replied causally.

“Don’t let Jaehee stop you,” you could hear him bite into an apple, grateful he was eating something healthy this time, “she’s not the boss of your life.” He shrugged.

“No she doesn’t, but I’d feel like a shitty friend. Whether Jaehee likes him or doesn’t romantic wise, I can’t seem to understand how her as a fan wants to keep Zen single. Isn’t it a bit..”

“Pfft- selfish?”

“I didn’t say that! No!”

“But you were thinking it.” He started laughing again.

The laughter quieted down and you both sat in the comfortable silence, Seven enjoying that he finally got to hear your beautiful voice. It was so sweet, everything he ever imagined it to be. Honey covered words with a tone of utter sugar.

“So. Why are you awake, space partner?” He spoke to you again, wanting to hear your voice once more.

“I just finished a chatroom. I didn’t want to have to wake up early just to finish it again.” You sighed, hating that some chats were at 2am.

You didn’t realize what your words meant. Seven nodded across the phone, understanding that playing the game late was common among players.

“Brutal. Just buy more hourglasses, dummy.”

“Ugh no. Way too overpriced.” You chuckled, acting as if you were talking to a friend.

It seemed as if you had forgotten that Saeyoung Choi was a game character in an otome game you loved.

“Overpriced?,” he laughed, “then trade the hearts you get for hourglasses.”

“See I would, but I want a high number of hearts-”

“You’re stubborn.. it’s cute.” He smiled into the phone.

“Youuu are cuter.” You softly replied, feeling a bit of confidence in your words.

A peaceful silence set over you two again, Saeyoung sighing as he realized he needed to let you sleep.

“Alright I’m gonna leave, you need sleep and I have work to do.” He could hear a pretty yawn that escaped your lips.

“Yea that’s fair. I need to be up early anyway for something tomorrow.” You nodded into the phone.

“Goodnight Saeyoung,” you said his real name without thinking, “sleep well and don’t stay up too late, dummy.” You gave a small chuckle.

He didn’t say anything for a few seconds. You heard typing before hearing his voice once more.

“Goodnight.. y/n. I love you. Call me more often.. space partner. Here’s to hoping you don’t get too frustrated when Echo Girl tries to ruin Zen’s career again in his route.” The call ended with a laugh on his end. You looked at your screen, eyes widening as you finally realized.

You had been on the phone with Saeyoung Choi, a fictional character in mystic messenger about not only the game.. but he called you by your name and not Mc.

You quickly went to the phone calls, checking to see if it actually existed. And sitting there on the screen was a phone call with the hacker himself that you had for a few minutes. His calling card was no longer five hourglasses. Instead, a number was displayed and you could press on it with it immediately calling him.

A single text is what left you even more stunned.

Saeyoung: So much for not falling in love with a player.. I enjoy our time together, y/n. I mean it, space partner, you better call me, I didn’t make my calling card free for nothing. I love you. Enjoy Zen’s route.

1K notes · View notes

sleepybobaa · 3 years ago

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this is like my fav fanfic ever 🫶🫶

𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗶𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗶 𝗱𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗺𝗺𝗮 || klitz x reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 || klitz is lucky enough to have some really great best friends. he should just be satisfied with that, but instead he can't stop himself from longing to be more than friends with you. the problem? well, there are a few. you're just friends. you're one of the hottest girls in school. the list goes on. some feelings are hard to ignore (and some biological reactions are hard to hide), though, when you show up to the beach looking like that.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 || 13.5k

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 || smut (loss of virginity, male masturbation, unprotected sex even though it's literally the opposite of the point of the movie, premature ejaculation (lol), semi-public/almost caught), mild angst?, pining, tons of fluff, the reader has a ~reputation~, slight OC with the readers family/characterization, reader and klitz are in high school, eli is a lil shit but we love him, the entire plot of the movie and the main character of the movie are ignored entirely lmao

the first part of this was already posted on my blog as a drabble but the rest is a (very long) continuation! if you are 18+ please enjoy and feel free to leave a comment or reblog to show your support <3

Do you know how impossible it is to hide a boner in swim trunks?

I mean, seriously— Klitz was worried if he looked at you for more than a second, there'd be a tent in his pants so obvious that Boy Scouts would start trying to camp under it.

"Hey, lookin' good," Eli praised you, and you laughed; he loved your laugh. Of course Eli could handle this, he watched so much porn that his dick was probably half comatose by this point, but Klitz was still an excitable 18-year-old with 20/20 corrected vision and a massive, secret crush on one of his best friends. (The female one, contrary to popular rumors).

"Oh, this old thing?" you dismissed as you laid down between Eli and Klitz on the towel. How was he supposed not to look at your legs, at your neck as you let your head fall back for a moment, at your tits gloriously displayed by the way you propped yourself up on your elbows?

"Somebody call Sports Illustrated!" Eli continued, and you shoved him on the shoulder playfully.

"Shut up," you rolled your eyes, he could just see it behind the massive sunglasses. You looked back at Klitz, who looked away the second you caught him.

"Yeah, uh," he coughed, "you look good..."

"Thanks," you smiled. "You too."

"Wha— me?" he returned.

"Yeah, him?" Eli agreed.

"You think you don't look good shirtless?" you raised your eyebrows.

"He looks like someone painted nipples on a white T-shirt," Eli frowned.

"Nothing wrong with being pale," you shrugged, "isn't that why we're out here anyways, for a little sun?"

"You think I look good?" Klitz repeated again, still processing what you'd said, feeling his face heat up from more than the beginnings of a sunburn.

"Uh, yeah," you scoffed. "Is that so mind-blowing?"

"It's not his mind that's the issue," Eli noticed, "I think he's worried about blowing in his trunks."

"Hey!" Klitz shouted defensively, but it came out all weak and wobbly and he had to clear his throat.

"Really?" you smiled proudly.

"Yes," Eli insisted.

"No," Klitz denied.

"Whatever, I'm going for a swim," you announced, standing up in front of the towel— giving him a painfully wonderful view of your ass, by the way— and jogging towards the shore. Eli and Klitz watched you dive into the ocean, before the former gave his friend a knowing look.

"What?" Klitz asked.

"Dude," Eli began firmly, "this is ridiculous. You need to just go for it."

"I... no, I shouldn't," Klitz decided for the thousandth time. "She's great, but she's our friend, and if I messed it up it would be so awkward between all of us—"

"You won't mess it up!" Eli insisted. "She's into you! Give her the D!"

"Okay, that's... kinda not what I'm talking about," Klitz frowned, "you're missing the point."

"What other point could there possibly be?!"

"I'm out of here," Klitz groaned, standing up and walking towards where the water vacillated on the shore.

At the end of the day, as the sun was going down and Klitz collapsed into his bed after a much-needed shower, he closed his eyes and saw you first thing. The way you smiled when you laughed, every curve and detail of your body in that damn bikini, your skin dripping with ocean water that reflected the sun like glitter...

His skin was still warm from the leftover heat of the sun, the slightest tint of a tan visible when he compared his stomach to the line on his hips where the trunks had covered. Somewhere across the neighborhood, you were probably in the shower now, untying that string at your back and letting the water wash the sand and salt off your skin.

Out of instinct, his hand was already wrapped around his cock, imagining the way you would wash your hair, run your hands all over your skin— did you touch yourself in the shower? He wasn't even sure if girls did that... sure, they probably do it sometimes, but maybe not in the shower— maybe lying in bed, like this, with your legs spread and your back arching up off the baby pink sheets he remembered from the last time he was in your room. He could just imagine how good you would look with tan lines across your hips and back, around your neck and down your chest... he could trace them all with his tongue, he could hold your thighs open and hear you moan while he tasted you.

His cock was throbbing in his hand already, and he stroked himself faster.

Just as he was really getting into it, his phone rang. "Shit," he blurted out, startled, as he let go of himself and fumbled around on his nightstand for the cell. "What?" he answered flatly when he saw it was Eli calling.

"Am I interrupting something?" Eli said, voice tainted with his grin, and Klitz coughed when he realized he was audibly panting. "Listen, I know you wanna see those pictures I took at the beach."

"I'm good," Klitz dismissed.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll do just fine on your own, Romeo," Eli insisted, "but you're gonna wanna see these. I mean, you know she's basically like my sister and I'm still working on half a hard-on over here."

"Dude, that's disgusting," Klitz grimaced.

"Hey, I'm not creeping or anything, she asked me to take these," he recalled; and yes, you had, posing for him and everything— though you had rejected some of his more salacious ideas. Klitz almost laughed to himself as he remembered Eli trying to talk you into posing on your hands and knees. Like a lion, you know, you can snarl and stuff— it's empowering! he'd justified. "I just figured you'd want some of these moments preserved in more than just your memory," Eli explained.

"I mean, we got like, pictures together and stuff, right?" Klitz remembered. "I might want a copy of those."

"Yeah, of course, I've got a best-of compilation of all your hoverhand moments," Eli scoffed, "those aren't the ones I'm talking about. I'm talking about spank bank material— really good stuff."

"You're awful, you know that?" Klitz reminded him.

"You don't want me to email these to you then?"

"No, send it," Klitz sighed.

"Atta boy," Eli grinned, clicking 'send' right away. "All yours, pal, go nuts. Good luck looking her in the eye tomorrow."

"Yeah, I've somehow managed it for the past three years," Klitz mumbled before hanging up; he sat up on the edge of his bed, pondering the level to which he'd sunk for just a second before he got up and crossed the room to his computer. Eli's email had already come through. Subject: You're welcome. 16 attachments.

He sighed and got comfortable in the chair as he opened the first one. Even before he touched it, his cock flexed at the sight of you lounging back on the sand; somehow, he'd managed to forget just how little that bikini covered, just a few pink triangles covering the key parts, two over your tits and one slipping down between your thighs. He clicked to the next one, all but whimpering to himself seeing you laying on your stomach, kicking your feet up, laughing at something Eli had said. Your ass looked great, but he was looking at your smile the most. He wished you'd been laughing at one of his jokes instead, that was the best feeling in the world. Maybe second best, to when you hugged him and he could feel your body against his own...

The next one was taken in the water, you were bending over slightly to reach for something— that curve in your back, that's what he would run his hand over, up and up on his way to grab your hair and pull it back as you moaned loudly for him, begging him to fuck you faster. He'd push your shoulders down, making you bend over even more, he'd hold your hips and tell you how perfect you were.

You were running in the next one, and your legs looked so good he could cry; he could kiss his way up them slowly, until you were so desperate that you grabbed his head and shoved it right into your pussy, and he'd eat you out until you cried.

Klitz, don't stop— you feel so good, you're so good at this— I've wanted this for so long...

He was already ridiculously close, and there were still 12 pictures left. He wasn't sure he'd be able to get through them all before he made a mess all over his hand.

Your tits looked amazing in the next one, it was obvious they were what Eli had been trying to photograph, but he still got plenty of your face in the shot. Klitz jerked off faster, imagining coming all over that chest and face, pulling the bikini top down and out of the way so he could finally see what he'd been dreaming about for years. He didn't just want to see them— he wanted you to show him; he didn't just want to touch them, he wanted you to ask him to, to moan quietly as he did it, to ask him to put his mouth on them...

"Fuck, I'm gonna come," he gasped out loud, because it made it easier to imagine your voice in his ear, encouraging him. I'm close too, please don't stop— Klitzy, you can come inside me, if you want, just don't stop!

The next picture was the best one yet; he was in it, and he usually hated seeing himself in pictures, but you were hugging on him and he was laughing and the way you were looking at him... it made him wonder, for a second, if you could feel the same way about him. Because it looked just like the way he thought he looked when he looked at you.

He remembered when Eli took that picture, he remembered how your skin felt on his and how he wished he was brave enough to wrap his hand around your waist— he remembered the next one before he clicked to it, he saw you kissing his cheek as he blushed so hard it was turning his forehead pink; Eli, being the unwanted wingman that he was, had told you to kiss him for the picture, it was your choice to go for the cheek, but Klitz was on cloud 9 either way. Maybe if he was more of an asshole, he would've turned just in time to catch your lips with his— but then again, if he was an asshole, you'd probably not be his friend. He might just be one of the guys you went out with for a few weeks and then cried on Klitz's shoulder about. Believe it or not, Klitz preferred being this guy, the guy stuck at his computer jerking off as he imagined you. He might never get to touch you the way he wanted, tell you everything he wanted to say or make you feel as amazing as he knew you really were... but at least he could make you happy. You were laughing in the picture, after all, and you looked so beautiful.

He choked out your name as he came suddenly, much harder than he anticipated, eyes shut tightly as hot liquid started to run down over his fingers...

When he caught his breath and opened his eyes, your picture was still on his computer— and there was jizz all over his keyboard.

"Fuck," he groaned, looking around for tissues or something; he settled for a dirty t-shirt on the floor, and made a mental note to himself to insist to his mom to do his own laundry this week as he wiped up the mess he'd made.

Just then, his phone beeped with a text message, and he picked it up to see your name with a heart beside it.

I had fun today :)

He was still trying to come back to reality, and avoid the impending guilt for his ulterior motives. I had way too much fun today, he imagined replying, if he were more honest.

Me too, he sent back instead, Eli's pictures turned out great

you saw them already?? jealous!

He hadn't meant to give himself away like that... Ask him to send you the best ones, Klitz suggested to you. He set his phone down to keep cleaning up the embarrassing scene, but you replied quickly

all he sent me was the ones of us together with the title "hottest couple at westport high"

Klitz swallowed thickly when he saw that, wishing Eli would back off and let Klitz handle his crush on his own timeline... he was still only two years into his five-year plan— you can't rush art! LOL Klitz replied, hoping to keep it casual and vague.

too bad we're not a couple :( you sent back... Klitz wrinkled his eyebrows together when he read that, not really sure what you meant. Did you mean like, too bad we can't be a couple because we're such good friends? Or were you just kidding? He read it a thousand times in four seconds, trying to figure it out, until you sent in one more text.

yet ;)

Oh, that’s it— right there! Harder! Fuck me harder!

His hand was a blur over his cock, his eyes shut tight, his whole body covered in a thin layer of sweat and starting to get pins and needles. He was so close, so fucking close, and the image of you was right there in his mind— you wore his favorite skirt of yours today, the tight one that showed a glimpse of your thighs when you crossed your legs. Right now, he was busy imagining that skirt rolled up to your waist as you bounced on top of him, head tossed back in a cry of pleasure. While his free hand clutched at his sheets, he was thinking about both his hands running up your legs to grab your hips, moving you just how he wanted.

“M’gonna come,” he warned with a gasp, bucking up into his own hand.

Yes, Klitz, he heard your voice in his head, I want you to come— come for me, baby, come inside me—

“Ohhhhhh my god,” he choked, whimpering slightly as the pleasure hit him suddenly and sharply, right in his gut; he slowed his movements down as he came, sticky spend coating his length as he panted like he’d just run a marathon. His face was hot as hell and probably beet red, but it always got like that when he came hard thinking of you and felt that guilt sink in a second later.

He was so sure you’d freak out if you knew he did this… you’d think he was such a creep, and really, you’d be right. You’d stop being his friend, you’d stop hugging him, you’d stop talking to him— you’d definitely stop sending him cute texts and joking about how it’s too bad we aren’t a couple.

Groaning, he covered his face with his arm. Why did you have to say stuff like that, were you just trying to drive him crazy? You were doing it more lately, and he kept laughing it off awkwardly every time you did it— what else could he do? But those texts, he hadn’t stopped thinking about them since you sent them two days ago; well, he hadn’t stopped thinking about them until he saw you in that skirt today. And then he was only thinking about that until just now.

Right at that moment, his cellphone rang. Of course it was you; just his luck. He cleared his throat, guilt swelling in his chest, and grabbed the phone to flip it open and answer. Unfortunately, he didn’t make it very far into that plan when he noticed his hand was still covered in come and he’d smeared it onto his phone, now, too. Grimacing, he pulled away and found a tissue box by his bed (like any prepared high school boy would have) to start wiping it all up. Just before it would’ve gone to voicemail, he got enough of it cleaned up to answer while he quickly tried to clean the rest from his lap.

“H-hey,” he greeted thinly.

“What took you so long to answer?” you wondered.

“I was in the backyard, sorry,” he bluffed.

“Oh, well, have you finished the term paper yet?” you asked.

Yes. “No.”

“Great! I thought maybe you could come over and we could work on it together?” you suggested. “I’m just, like, totally stumped on how to write a good conclusion paragraph.”

“I’ll come over right away,” he offered, “i-if that’s okay…”

“Yeah, totally,” you hummed happily.

He loved being able to walk to your house. It could be a bit of a nuisance in the middle of the night when he was randomly compelled to run over and throw rocks at your window and tell you everything; it could also be a nuisance when you came to his room, sneaking in through the window looking for some trouble to get into. But overall, he enjoyed having you so close, just across the neighborhood, and it made studying together like this really easy.

When his cell started ringing in his pocket, halfway into his walk, he pulled it out to see it was Eli calling.

“What’s up?” Klitz asked when he answered, still walking as he talked.

“Wanna come over?” Eli asked. “I got this great new tape I’ve been meaning to show you.”

“I can’t, I—” Klitz began, darting his gaze around his view of the neighborhood and hoping to come up with a good excuse by the end of his sentence.

“You’re going to her house again, aren’t you?” Eli sighed.

“Yeah,” Klitz admitted.

“I thought you said you were gonna stop doing that so much until you got over her," Eli recalled.

"That was the plan, but then…" Klitz trailed off.

"Then?"

"Then she asked me to come over," Klitz groaned, hearing Eli's exasperated cry from the other end of the line.

"Dude, seriously," Eli scoffed, "you've gotta stop being such a simp!"

"I'm not a simp, she's my best friend," Klitz insisted.

"No, I'm your best friend, she's the girl you've been in love with since we were freshmen and still don't make a move on," Eli corrected.

"I can't just make a move! You know I have no chance with a girl like that— I wouldn't even know how to make a move, I don't have any moves."

"Either get over her or get under her, man, but I can't listen to you whine about this anymore," Eli decided. "She's kinda slutty, isn't she? Why don't you just ask if she'll sleep with you?"

Klitz swallowed thickly. Yes, you had a bit of a reputation. He didn't mind that; he didn't like that people spread rumors about you, but he wasn't surprised by it anymore either. He knew that you acted like you were fine with that attention, even wanted it, but that you'd really gotten your feelings hurt a few times. And, he knew that if he asked you to have sex with him, assuming he had a chance solely because you were known to put out, you'd hate him because you were just like all the guys who used you and tossed you away. He wanted so much more than just your body, if he didn't he wouldn't have stayed your friend so long.

He remembered when you hooked up with Tate Winters because he said he broke up with his girlfriend, only to discover it was a lie when his not-ex wrote SKANK on your locker in permanent marker. The school janitor tried to clean it for hours, which only brought more attention until he finally gave up and just painted over it— and then nobody could forget it happened until the "wet paint" signs were gone. And as if that weren't enough, apparently Tate's best idea to get back on his girl's good side was to tell the whole school you had a loose pussy and secretly stuffed your bra. You tried to laugh it all off at school but when you and Klitz were alone, you cried for hours. He held you until the shoulder of his t-shirt was totally soaked and you just fell asleep.

"She's not a slut," Klitz corrected Eli firmly.

"Well, I don't know what else you call it when a girl gives it away more than the fuckin' Salvation Army," Eli joked.

"She's… a little adventurous," Klitz conceded, glancing at the house he was walking by and noticing the garden had a new ceramic gnome, "but that doesn't mean she wants anything to do with me."

"You won't know until you try," Eli pointed out. "Just wait until she does something stupidly-hot— which you know she will at some point because she's always doing that kind of stuff—"

That, he did know.

"And then just let her know you're down to clown!" Eli finished, like it was an obvious sort of solution. "I mean, if she sleeps with all those guys—"

"She does, that's exactly my problem," Klitz replied. "She's got all this experience and I'm a virgin. She likes guys who actually know what they're doing."

"Tell her you wanna learn from the best," Eli suggested.

"That's weird," Klitz frowned.

"Tell her you have a terminal disease and your dying wish is for some pussy," Eli offered instead.

"That's so much worse," Klitz shuddered.

"Whatever— honestly, it's really your own fault now," Eli scolded. "She's not just gonna fall in your lap, Klitzy, you gotta go for it."

"Hm, I think I'll just keep doing nothing and die alone, but thanks," Klitz decided.

"Okay," Eli sighed defeatedly, "but I'm telling everyone at your funeral that you had a chance not to be a virgin forever but you were too afraid to do anything about it."

"Appreciated," Klitz grumbled, hanging up just as Eli started to warn him that you would probably bring a super hot new boyfriend of yours to his funeral. It was just in time, too, because Klitz was just then turning off of the sidewalk to make his way up the path over your front yard right to your house.

Still holding onto his backpack’s strap on his shoulder with one hand, he leaned forward and knocked on your door which opened a second later.

“Oh, hi there, Timothy!” your mom greeted him with a smile.

“Hey, Mrs. S,” he nodded in return, suddenly noticing she was wearing a nice dress and jewelry. “You… look lovely, is it a special occasion?” he asked, afraid it would come across too forward, but she laughed in a flattered sort of way and he was relieved.

“You’re such a sweetheart— we’re just going out to dinner,” she explained, the other half of the ‘we’ already obvious before your dad showed up beside her. “Honey, Timothy’s coming over to work on that term paper she mentioned—” she began to inform him.

“Riiiight,” your dad nodded as he recalled something you must have said to them. “Good to see you, Tim,” he offered even though nobody called Klitz ‘Tim’, and when he extended his hand for a shake, Klitz almost reached out but suddenly hesitated. He’d only had time for a Kleenex wipedown, not a real wash with soap and water, since he’d busted all over that hand thinking about this man’s daughter. But he wasn’t sure he could get out of it, and so, with a suppressed cringe, he shook your father’s hand with as much enthusiasm as he could feign. Kill me kill me kill me—

“Come on in!” your mom offered, stepping aside for him to enter the foyer, which he did. “She’s upstairs. Help yourselves to snacks if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” he nodded to her as they started to step out the door. “Enjoy your dinner!” he offered with a wave.

“Such a polite young man…” he heard your mom’s voice trailing off just before the door shut on its own; Klitz sighed. Your parents liked him, which would be a boost to his chances to date a lot of girls— but not you, the chronic rebel. For the most part, you were well-behaved as far as teenage daughters go: he’d never seen you get wasted at any parties and you got good grades and everything, it was just all the guys you dated… he figured your parents must not know about most of them or they’d be a lot stricter with you. Wouldn’t any good, old-fashioned suburban parents freak out if they knew their daughter had gone out five times with a guy who inexplicably has had tattoos since sophomore year— or if they heard that rumor (which he happened to know was true) that you and Jake the quarterback had hooked up in his dad’s truck?

Bounding up the stairs, Klitz navigated to your room where he found you laying on your bed, on your stomach with your head propped on your hands and your feet kicked up and swinging slowly. Eli had shown Klitz some foot fetish porn once, at which point Klitz had sworn he did not have a thing for feet— which was true, except that the day after that he’d noticed you were wearing platform flip-flops and had your toes painted with a flower shape on them and there was a silver bracelet around your ankle (you informed him sternly when he mentioned it that it was an ‘anklet’ not a bracelet) with a sun charm and, well, he still didn’t think feet were actively sexy, but if anyone had sexy feet, it was you. And there they were, lackadaisically swaying in the air— your toes were painted today, too, and instead of an anklet you had a toe ring on, and he could help but imagine what it would be like if you ran your foot up his leg—

When you noticed him in the doorway, you smiled up at him and slid shut the magazine you were reading. “Hey,” you beamed.

“I thought you were working on your paper,” he remembered with a frown.

“I decided to wait for you to get here,” you laughed as you sat up on your bed. “And, you know, I was checking to see if this Seventeen issue was going to give me any inspiration to write about the War of 1812.”

Klitz just smiled and rolled his eyes, sitting down next to you on your bed at exactly the moment you suddenly stood up.

“Ugh, you know that thing where you can go all day acting fine and then suddenly the tag on your shirt is trying to kill you?” you sighed, and Klitz nodded in agreement. You were more sensitive to that kind of stuff than he was, but he get what you meant. “Anyways, point is, I’ve been wearing this stupid top all day and I can’t focus.”

“Okay,” he mumbled; he liked that top, it was tight enough to show off your figure but not so tight that he’d be tempted to get jealous. Best of all, it had words written in sparkly lettering across the chest, which gave him a socially-acceptable reason to look at your boobs for three seconds when he first saw you at school this morning.

“I’m gonna get into something more comfortable, m’kay?” you explained, but he didn’t understand that you meant literally right here and now until you started to lift your shirt. He looked down with wide eyes, swallowing thickly as he saw your tanktop land on the floor… and then your bra right beside it. Jesus fucking Christ.

He stared at the floor so intensely that he felt like he was about to burn a hole all the way into the living room below. He couldn’t stand it when you did stuff like this— well, he loved it, but he hated it, too. You were right there topless and if he had a bit more courage and a bit less respect for you he could just look up and see you. But even just knowing that you were stripping in front of him made his cock twitch, so he wouldn’t be able to keep his cool if he actually saw anything.

You walked to your closet and rifled through some things, apparently settling on something because he could hear you pop it off the hanger and slip it on over your head. He didn’t look at you until he was absolutely sure it was safe, which was when you plopped down next to him and made the mattress bounce a little. It was a forest green hoodie, with yellow letters across the chest: YALE.

“H-hey,” he choked, “isn’t that mine?”

“It was,” you grinned cheekily. You were wearing his clothes, you were wearing his clothes, this was like his biggest dream and worst nightmare coming true at once. He knew this image was going to burn in his mind and he was already looking forward to his next chance to jerk off to the thought of it; it was like every domestic fantasy coming true, his dream girl in his hoodie—

“I thought I lost that,” he laughed nervously.

“You did, and I found it,” you shrugged. “I meant to tell you that you left it here but, then I forgot… and I’ve been wearing it as pajamas.”

You were sleeping in his hoodie. You were, like, 90% of the way to being his girlfriend at this point, except for all the key parts such as liking him back and kissing him and letting him take you on dates and stuff. Maybe he should just be happy with this— after all, somewhere out there are plenty of guys wishing you were wearing their hoodies right now and not Klitz’s, right? Actually, probably half the guys at school would kill to be here right now, in your bedroom, on your bed, watching you cover your hands with the ends of the sleeves.

Difference is, some of those guys actually have a chance with you.

“You’re not, uh, dating that insanely ripped dude anymore, right?” Klitz stammered out.

“Who— Frank? God no, he was a creep,” you rolled your eyes, “which, like, yeah, I kinda knew going into it, but I guess I thought he’d lighten up a bit. But he was so rude and like, pressuring me and stuff…”

Klitz tried not to react to hearing that, but he hated to imagine it so much.

“I mean, I’m no virgin,” you scoffed, “not since the summer before junior year, but like, back off, you know? He was always bitching that we couldn’t do it at my place.”

“You couldn’t?” he realized, a little relieved that he wasn’t sitting on the bed where you and Frank might’ve banged.

“I’m not allowed to have guys in my room,” you explained.

“Uh, I come over all the time,” Klitz noticed, “your dad literally just let me in here.”

“Oh, you don’t count,” you mentioned in passing, and Klitz sighed in defeat; he was such a non-threat that your parents basically forgot he was male. How comforting. “Anyways, I dumped him because he was annoying and dumber than a box of rocks.”

“Those seem like good reasons,” he mumbled, not really sure what to say. If he sounded too congratulatory, he might seem creepy himself, so he wanted to stay semi-neutral.

“I think the next guy I date has gotta be smart,” you decided suddenly. “Like, not necessarily an intellectual, definitely not condescending about it, but smart. And nice.”

Smart and nice— would you also be willing to accept scrawny and pathetic with permanently sweaty palms?

“And no more guys who go to the gym five times a week, I don't care what anyone says, that's not indicative of sanity," you added.

Wow, I can only bench forty-five pounds, guess I'm your dream guy! If only I wasn't so… me.

"Anyways!" you chuckled, exhaling with a hint of exasperation. "This paper… where do we start?"

"Well, what do you have so far?" he asked, and you pulled your paper up to read aloud.

You cleared your throat before you read dramatically: "In 1812, the War of 1812 began."

This is gonna be a long night…

He was pretty sure he blacked out for a second when you hugged him that tight. He laughed nervously when you pulled back, still resting your hands on his shoulders. “Yay!” you smiled wide. “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe I finished the paper this early! Thanks, Klitzy.”

“Oh, sure,” he shrugged, and you took your hands away even though he wasn’t done memorizing the way they felt yet.

“And it’s only 8:30,” you noticed as you glanced at the clock, “my parents probably won’t be back until 10. Wanna stay longer and, like, hang out? Ooh, we could put on a movie,” you suggested. “We’ve got popcorn and stuff.”

Sometimes you put your head on his shoulder when you watched movies together. “Sure,” he agreed quickly. “What should we watch?”

“How about you go microwave the popcorn and I’ll pick something out,” you decided, and Klitz gave you a thumbs-up in approval of your strategy.

A couple minutes later, Klitz was in the kitchen watching the bag rotate and inflate inside its little food prison, while you were on your knees going through your dad’s movie collection. You’d shown him where to find a bowl for the popcorn when it was ready, and he carefully pinched the bag by the edges to open it and start dumping it out into the plastic container.

When he carried the bowl back into the living room, now full of nutritionless high-sodium deliciousness, he found you bent over to push the tape into the player. Clearing his throat, he let himself only glance for a second, except that when he got to the couch to sit down, your ass was literally at eye-level directly in front of him. You were still wearing that skirt, too, and it was riding up as you bent over to show the back of your thighs; lord have mercy…

When the movie started to play, you grabbed the remote and hopped next to him, sitting just a little too close to him in the most painfully perfect way.

It was a scary movie, he could tell by the music even though it had just started. He just hoped he didn’t humiliate himself by screaming like a girl or something. He reached for a handful of popcorn at the same time that you did, and your fingers brushed against his inside the bowl. Jesus, was he really this sensitive that that would turn him on? At least the bowl in his lap would hide anything—

“Stop hogging it!” you giggled as you pulled the bowl away, but you yanked too hard and some of the popcorn spilled out onto his lap. “Oh, fuck, sorry…”

You started to brush the popcorn away, running your hands all over his pants as he sat there frozen. Do not move a fucking muscle Klitz, he commanded himself internally. Wow, your hands on his thighs felt amazing; he had to fight not to shudder visibly.

“Gosh, I’m kind of a hot mess tonight,” you sighed, “at least popcorn doesn’t stain.”

Grabbing a final remaining white puff from right on top of his fly, you gingerly popped it into your mouth and smiled.

She’s eating your dick corn, man, go for it! the voice of Eli appeared independently in his head.

Ew, what? his own internal voice replied.

As the movie went on and the popcorn bowl was depleted and discarded, he managed to mostly pay attention and not get too distracted by how pretty you looked lit only by the dim blue glow. The movie itself was pretty boring, not too scary, but it did have some gory parts that made him cringe as you covered your eyes. However, over time, both of you were drawn into the suspense— the shadows, the tense music, the promise that the killer was lurking just behind the corner— and when he jumped out of nowhere brandishing a chainsaw, you both jumped a bit and then laughed at each other.

“You’re not scared, are you?” you asked.

“No,” he assured. “It’s creepy, I guess, but not like… scary.”

“Ooh, you’re so tough,” you teased with a poke to his ribs, and he moved away with a laugh.

“Stop,” he whined softly, laughing harder when you poked him again. “You know how ticklish I am, don’t mess with me!”

“Knowing how ticklish you are is exactly why I wanna mess with you,” you explained, poking him repeatedly on the shoulder.

“Yeah? Well, I know how ticklish you are, too,” he warned you, “and I’m stronger than you, so, you might not wanna start something you can’t finish.”

“Is that a threat?” you raised an eyebrow, reaching for his ribs again, but he grabbed your wrists and started to tickle your legs first. You cried out in delight and tried to fight back, but the more you laughed the easier it was to pin you down and dig his fingers into your ribs or stomach. “Stop, stop!” you begged through laughter so hard it brought you to tears, and he finally relented— he knew from experience that you would not hesitate to kick him anywhere you could reach to get him to stop.

There was a second right after he stopped, and right as your smile started to fall, that he realized how… sexy this whole thing was. Maybe it was just because it was you: your inherent hotness could make anything sexy, you could probably scrub a toilet sensually if you needed to. Still, a guy on top of a girl while her parents aren’t home, a movie on the TV, tickling each other… any other guy and girl at school and it would probably end differently. But, he knew you and he knew himself and he knew how this story was going to end: a chaste hug goodbye, a scream into his pillow, and his dick in his fist while he whispered your name.

He awkwardly maneuvered away from you, and you sat up straight again just to scoot closer one more time. It was peaceful again, for a while— he kept imagining putting his arm around your shoulders, but other than that it was fine— until another jumpscare on screen shocked you both.

You yelped and buried your face in his chest; he willed his heart not to beat faster, in case you could hear it, but it didn’t work… even he could hear his own heartbeat now, it was throbbing in his ears as you cuddled up into him and clutched at his shirt.

He couldn’t understand why you did this stuff— was it just a joke to you, hunting for sport? It seemed like you knew he had a crush on you, Eli had probably given it away with his aggressive attempts to wingman, and now you were, what, toying with him?

“Protect me,” you whimpered, and he knew then that you were fucking with him, and after three years he decided he’d just about had enough. Frustrated, he grabbed the remote and paused the movie, standing up briskly to force you to peel off of him. “What’s wrong?” you asked from behind him on the couch, and he just sighed.

“I— maybe I should go,” he said suddenly. “I have to work on my paper, too, you know.”

You stood up then, standing next to him, looking right at him. You looked so hurt. This was why he never stood up to you, because he hated seeing you upset— and knowing he’d hurt your feelings made his heart break. But at a certain point, he needed to defend himself. “Klitz, seriously, don’t go,” you breathed, “it’s dark and I’m gonna be all freaked out after watching that movie, you can’t leave me alone—”

“Are you making fun of me?” he blurted out, turning away.

“What?” you pressed. “Klitz, I don’t—”

“Can you just stop?” he winced. “I get it, I’m not like the guys you go out with, you don’t have to… rub it in. And you don’t have to make me feel stupid for having a crush on you.”

“Wait, hold on,” you interrupted, grabbing his shoulder and turning him to face you, “start over. You do have a crush on me?”

“Yeah!” he yelped. “Obviously!”

“I didn’t think I was your type,” you explained.

“My type? You know you’re gorgeous,” he stated plainly, “everybody knows.”

“Oh,” you smiled shyly, “that’s… not true, but it’s sweet.”

Klitz waited for a second, not sure what to say; you weren’t rolling your eyes and telling him to get over it, I was just being funny— you weren’t apologizing and admitting you went too far, either.

“Eli said some stuff before, it made me wonder if you really liked me or if you were just being nice,” you admitted. “And then we went to the beach together and… well, you looked really cute in your trunks…”

He blinked at you, speechless, and waited for this to all start making sense. You clearly meant cute like a puppy or baby— girls had called him that before, and he knew it wasn’t really a compliment when they said it like that, it was demeaning. How could his ‘cute’ compete with your beautiful?

“And honestly I’ve been into you for ages but I didn’t want to say anything,” you rushed, covering your face with your hands like you were embarrassed to say it. “God, I mean, we’ve been friends so long and I just didn’t want to mess anything up if you didn’t feel the same way—”

“Is this… huh?” Klitz asked in a mumble.

“Klitz,” you sighed, dropping your hands and stepping closer, looking up at him. “I like you,” you explained, “like… you know, not just in the normal friend way. Wow— sorry, I’m really not good at this, usually guys ask me out so I don’t have to do the whole love-confession thing.”

He gave you a wide-eyed look, and you seemed to realize what you’d said.

“N-not that I’m in love with you!” you rushed. “I mean, I’m not saying that I’m not— I’m just not saying that I am. Because that would be an insane thing to say— damn it, Klitz! I was trying to make it obvious so I wouldn’t have to say all this and you still ignored me!”

“What do you mean, ‘make it obvious’?” he repeated.

“Like, changing in front of you and putting on a scary movie and suggesting we go to the beach just so I can wear a bikini I bought because I thought you might like it—” you enumerated.

“I just thought you were teasing me,” he coughed; why was it so hot imagining you trying on bathing suits, looking at yourself in the mirror and wondering if he’d think you looked good? You could’ve worn a trash bag and he would have thought you looked amazing, but the bikini was still a nice touch.

“Klitz, that’s flirting, I was flirting,” you clarified with a frown. “You were so immune I thought you were just trying to let me down easy.”

“I’m not immune,” he admitted, “I’m just… incredibly stupid.”

“No, you’re not,” you insisted, stepping closer again and grabbing his shirt, tugging until he looked at you sheepishly. “Klitz, you’re super smart, and funny and sweet, and you’re so good to me— I just didn’t want to lose what we have, you’re my best friend. But I’ve been, uh, kind of thinking about you all the time for a while now. And I really wanna kiss you right now.”

Finally getting over himself for a few seconds, he grabbed your face and kissed you first. You tasted like lip gloss and minty gum, and when he took a deep breath in and kissed you harder, he could smell your shampoo. Best of all, he felt you smile against his lips; he hadn’t kissed a girl since 9th grade and she had braces and smelled like zit cream— not that he could really blame her for that, everybody looks awkward in 9th grade— but that had been pretty underwhelming and this was everything he imagined kissing was supposed to be. You melted a little and leaned your head back, opening your mouth wider: did you want him to put his tongue in your mouth? He hoped so, because that was what he was going to do— slowly at first, until you nodded slightly and he really went for it. He wasn’t sure how to be good at this, so he tried to not do anything too adventurous so he’d at least lower the risk of being actively bad at it.

You were really good at this, though; so good he was trying not to have too strong of a reaction… but it was tricky when you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him closer, humming contentedly into the kiss. Were you always like this? He knew you’d dated quite a few guys, he’d had the privileged honor to see you make out with a few of them when they were particularly obnoxious and had to show you off in the middle of the cafeteria. Then again, he’d do the same if he could. If he was currently capable of remembering anyone else in the world even existed right now, he would happily kiss you in front of all of them.

Tugging him back with you, you pulled him onto the couch as the kiss went from demure to desperate in seconds; the feeling of his weight pressing your body into the sofa cushions was already incredible, and then your arms wrapped around him and your hands started to slide up his back and it was like you were in complete control of his body. He didn’t mean to moan your name but it just slipped out, he was trying not to get hard but it was impossible to avoid, and he couldn’t even stop himself from moving his hands lower to rub your legs.

Speaking of your legs, they spread when he touched them, slowly and sensually exactly like he’d dreamed it. Groaning lowly, he slid his hands up higher to where that skirt was wrapped around your thighs and ventured far enough to push it up slightly.

“I want you,” you whispered, and it was so incredible that it jarred him out of his trance; he pulled back and looked down at you, his best friend laying there beneath him on the couch, just waiting for him to take you…

“Hold on,” he shook his head, “I— I don’t think we should do it like this.”

“Huh?” you sighed, sounding a little hurt.

“No— I mean, I… I want to,” he assured, feeling his face heat up a bit as you stared up at him, “I just— I wanna, like, take you out and stuff. Like, we can go to dinner, or catch a movie— we can go to that drive-in you wanted to check out—”

“Fuck that,” you grumbled as you roughly pulled him down into another kiss, needy and sloppy with your fingers tangling into his hair.

He whimpered when your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer until he couldn’t hide that he was hard anymore; it was grinding up against you, and you moaned at the feeling— and Klitz realized that this might be the first time in his life he was supposed to have a boner.

“We’ve been waiting way too long to do this,” you explained as you broke the kiss to start tugging his shirt up over his head. “I can’t wait until after a date, I need you right now— please?”

You were actually asking him, like he was doing you a favor; stunned, he simply nodded and finished taking his shirt off before he kissed you again. When you broke the kiss again, he was only disappointed for as long as it took him to realize you were lifting that hoodie of his up— he hoped his face wasn’t as idiotic and dumbfounded as it probably was while he stared at your boobs, buuuuut he didn’t really have the brain power to care. You were struggling slightly to get it off while still laying down on the couch; maybe it would’ve been smoother if he tried to take your top off for you, but it was so sexy watching you do it— you wanted him to see you, you were undressing just for him. It was so perfect that it was probably just a dream but he didn’t mind as long as he didn’t wake up.

“You can touch me,” you whispered as you tossed the balled-up hoodie away, and he certainly didn’t need to be told twice. With a small gasp at how genuinely perfect you were, he grabbed your tits— as gentle as he could manage, of course— and bit his lip while he kneaded them in his palms. You moaned softly, closing your eyes, and he took a second to study your face before focusing his eyes again on your gorgeous chest.

He remembered a few times that your nipples had gotten hard enough to poke through your shirt— at school, at late-night study sessions when you were already in your pajamas, or at the beach when the cool breeze blew and that little bikini did nothing for you— and he’d imagined what they might look like based on their silhouette through fabric. They were better than he could’ve thought, and they were getting harder between his fingertips. Unable to resist, he bent down and captured one in his mouth, hearing you moan louder as he swirled his tongue around it. How could your skin taste so good? Did you use frosting as lotion or something? Wow, that was an oddly erotic mental image…

Moving across your chest to the other nipple, he suckled harder until he heard you gasp out his name. That had to mean he was doing something right, right? It was certainly encouraging, and made his cock throb inside his pants.

Licking a long stripe up your chest to your neck, he heard you giggle and felt your fingers tug lightly on his hair. “Klitzy, fuck,” you sighed, “you’re— you’re not how I thought you’d be…”

“Really?” he hummed against your skin, loving the way you writhed under him when he kissed just under your ear, or right where your neck met your shoulder. He would be so content spending the rest of his life memorizing your body to find those spots that made you moan and whimper.

“Yeah, I— I thought you’d be shy, but you’re so…” you trailed off with a wistful sigh. “I mean, you’re really sweet, but you’re driving me fucking crazy, too.”

He sat up a bit so he could look down at your face. “In a good way, right?” he hoped.

“Yeah, in a good way,” you smiled, grabbing one of his hands and moving it down your body. “I want you to touch me,” you explained, spreading your legs even more beneath him as you moved his hand up your skirt, “I want you to feel what you do to me.”

Panting like he’d just run a marathon even though he’d just been laying on your couch all night, he kept his eyes trained on your face as his fingers slipped into your panties and explored the silky-smooth folds of your pussy.

“Oh, you’re… you’re really wet,” he noticed, and you smiled wide. How can it feel this good just to touch it?

“Mhm,” you agreed, biting your lip. “I always get like that when I’m with you.”

“Fuck, really?” he choked, and you nodded. “Oh, wow… I wish I’d known that. Actually— maybe it’s better that I didn’t. I would’ve lost my mind.”

You were so warm that he was losing his mind anyways— he couldn’t even imagine how you would feel around his cock, even though his brain really wanted him to try. Were you really about to go all the way, tonight? It was sudden, in a sense, but then again he’d been quietly in love with you for years, so… maybe it was actually kind of slow.

He made an embarrassingly high-pitched noise when your hand suddenly slipped down to rub on the bulge in his pants.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned, losing his focus on touching you and needing to grip your thigh just to stabilize himself.

“I knew you’d be big,” you mumbled to yourself as you started to open his button and then unzip his fly. His dick was fighting to bust right out of his briefs, and you reached down to hold his balls in your palm through the fabric; a massive shiver ran up his spine when you gently dragged your nails all the way up from there to the very tip of his cock, and he couldn’t stop himself from shakily whispering your name.

Looking much too proud of yourself, you sat up a bit and started to pull his pants and underwear down until his cock bounced freely and proudly— Klitz himself was less proud, not necessarily embarrassed but definitely a little overwhelmed at the feeling of your eyes on him. He realized that no one else had really seen him naked, and thankfully no one had seen his erection before (though he’d had a few close calls while jerking off due to parents allergic to knocking first). It was mildly terrifying, but he was soothed to say the least when you bit your lip at the sight and looked up at him with wide eyes. You looked impressed, and he decided he would remember this moment anytime his confidence ever faltered: he had no reason to doubt himself ever again because there’s a massively hot girl looking directly at his cock and staring up at him like she’s seen something incredible.

“Jesus, Klitz, what were you doing hiding this monster from me all this time?” you smirked.

“I-is it really that big?” he wondered, sure you were just flattering him.

“Of course it is,” you insisted.

“I mean, I’ve seen porn and stuff— it seemed kinda… normal to me,” he shrugged.

You laughed out loud, and he felt his cheeks warm up a little more as he wondered what he’d said wrong. “Klitz, ‘normal’ for porn is absurd for real life,” you explained. “I mean, the women in those movies, are their tits ‘normal’, or are they huge?”

“They’re definitely bigger than most— ohhhh,” Klitz nodded as he realized what he’d somehow failed to put together. Porn was his only exposure to other dude’s dicks, so how was he supposed to know?

“You really thought this was average?” you chuckled, squeezing his shaft just enough to make his balls tighten up. “Baby, you’re hung.”

He couldn’t help but beam proudly at that. “Oh… really?”

You smiled back at him with a nod, starting to stroke him slowly. Your hand was so soft, your fingers so nimble and delicate, and the way you stroked his cock was much too slow but just right to keep him desperate and needy.

“Oh god,” he sighed as he started to rock into your hand, shutting his eyes tight and hearing you giggle a bit.

“How does that feel?” you asked gently.

“It feels so much better,” he blurted out, under his breath.

“Better than what?”

“Better than when I do it to myself,” he continued with a tilted smile. “Which is impressive considering I have… a lot of experience.”

“How often do you jerk off, Klitz?” you wondered coyly, and he knew he had no shot to lie to you with you looking him right in the eye like that.

“I don’t know,” he stalled for a moment, “maybe twice a day? Sometimes more…”

You hummed, leaving it sort of ambiguous if you thought that was disturbingly high or not, but he was in no position to backtrack and pretend it was less while you had his dick in your hand. You lightly ran your fingers up the length of his cock and back down again, teasing him until he struggled not to whimper aloud. “Do you ever think about me?” you asked, almost sounding shy— like you were afraid he would say no. What the fuck else would he think about?!

“Always,” he choked out, voice wavering when you twisted your hand right as it moved over the tip of his cock— there was precum running down already, smoothing your movements and making everything all sticky and slick.

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” you sighed.

“You don’t think it’s creepy?” he pressed.

“No, I mean, I couldn’t judge,” you shrugged. “I do it too.”

He blinked quickly. “You do?!”

“Yeah,” you breathed. “I lay in my bed at night, I spread my legs, I smell that hoodie I stole from your lock— I mean, that you left in my room…”

You were still stroking him slowly and carefully, but with you talking like that he honestly thought he could come right now— but if he did, it would spray all over your face and chest, which should’ve been a deterrent but somehow just made it even more tempting.

“I imagine how you would sound when I put your cock in my mouth,” you continued. “I fuck myself with the end of a hairbrush, just to feel full—”

“I-I don’t know if I can take this,” he stammered.

“Get down here, stud,” you giggled as you laid back on the couch again, grabbing his arm to pull him down on top of you. You kissed him again, and he delighted in the feeling of his bare chest against yours— and then moaned when he felt his cock press up against your pussy, sliding over the slick lips when he involuntarily rocked his hips.

“Can I…?” he asked, trailing off.

“Can you… what?” you teased, and he tried to ignore his repressed upbringing for a second to not be embarrassed to say it.

“Can I make love to you?” he whispered, and you smiled wide.

“Oh,” you sighed bashfully, “I thought you were gonna ask if you can fuck me.”

“I mean,” he choked, “that too— I guess…”

You nodded; he wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t think the odds were better than not that you would say yes, but he still breathed shakily in response. Reaching down between your bodies, he grabbed himself at the base to guide towards your hole— one of the benefits of having seen some porn before this was actually having a pretty decent idea of where everything was. He shivered as he pressed his cock up to your opening, shutting his eyes for a second to compose himself.

“Are you, uh… are you sure?” he whispered.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “are you?”

“Definitely,” he promised. “I just sort of can’t believe this is really happening…”

“Me either,” you smiled, “in a good way.”

“You… know I’ve never…” he began, but you nodded again.

“I know,” you whispered, “I wanna be your first— if you don’t mind.”

“N-no, not at all,” he replied, “this— this is all I ever wanted…”

And there it was, right in front of him: one little push of his hips forward and he was going to be inside you. What if it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, what if sex is actually pretty lame? What if the moment he does it, he suddenly realizes he’s actually gay— is that how that works? What if he screws it up and you never talk to him again? What if he’s patient zero for some terrible STD you can only get from virgins, what if your pill suddenly stops working and you get pregnant, what if—?

“Hey,” you whispered, reaching up and resting your hand on his cheek; it soothed him, and he sighed as he looked down at you and forgot every anxious thought in his head. “You okay?”

“Never better,” he promised, and maybe the timing was kinda wacky but he finally did it: he held your hips tight as he pushed into you, immediately feeling the wind knocked out of him. You were… tight, and warm, so warm— and smooth, but also sort of not considering the ridges of your walls that created this addictive friction on his cock…

You were perfect, in short. And as he pressed his hips up to yours, he knew for certain that this wasn’t a dream or a coma fantasy or a Total Recall-type situation— this was real. Nothing had ever been this real before.

“Oh my god,” you sighed, head dropping back on the couch. “Fuck, Klitzy— you’re so big…”

He couldn’t stop himself from starting to move already, even though he heard you hiss in a breath like you were still getting used to it. It was just too good and his body was running on instinct now, something primal and natural and slightly delusional.

You moaned again, louder, and held his shoulders tightly. “You feel so good,” you whispered.

“You do too,” he managed to find the brainpower to whisper back. He heard you whimper when he moved a little faster, already chasing this high that felt so incredibly in reach and he just knew it would be perfect— he couldn’t slow down, he’d never needed something like he needed this. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “yeah, oh god, don’t stop— you’re just the biggest I’ve ever—”

His cock throbbed before you even finished your sentence. “D-don’t talk like that,” he hissed, “I don’t think I’m gonna be able to last—”

“It doesn’t matter,” you promised, “just come, fuck, I wanna feel your come in me, Klitz.”

And that was how Klitz lost his virginity to you and came in literally eight seconds. As his face burned incredibly hot at the realization that he’d blown his load in less time than it takes to flip a pancake, he sighed and dropped his head onto your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out instantly, “fuck, I— I didn’t mean to—”

“Shh,” you breathed, “hey, it’s fine— it’s… really hot, actually.”

“Shut up,” he groaned.

“No, really!” you insisted. “It’s sexy, Klitz— fuck, you’re so sexy…”

Okay, at this point his prevailing theory was that he’d encountered a genie some time today, who granted his wish to transport him to an alternate reality where his gorgeous best friend suddenly thinks he’s super hot, but also erased his memory of making the wish in the first place. Except, if he’d done that, he would’ve also wished to be a sex god who made you come so hard you gained mild omniscience during your dozen consecutive orgasms— and instead he was just a two-pump chump who couldn’t even return the favor after you made him feel so incredible. So he was back to square one again.

“Hey,” you said again, softly, lifting his face so he would be forced to look down at you. He stared into your eyes, and he felt you in his arms, and he was still inside you— and he wondered if anything could ever be this perfect again. “It’s really okay,” you promised, “you’ll last longer next time.”

“There’s gonna be a next time?” he realized, and you nodded happily.

“I mean, I hope so,” you smiled. “If you want to…”

“But I was bad at it,” he pointed out.

“Sex is like literally everything else— you get better with practice,” you explained. “And I think we’re gonna have to practice a lot… you know, just to really get super good at it.”

He just couldn’t help himself; “Wouldyoumaybewannabemygirlfriendorsomething?” he rushed out.

“Huh?”

“Um,” he cleared his throat, “I was just asking if you might want to be my girlfriend. A-and I could be your boyfriend.” He added the last part just in case you were about to suggest that some other guy could be your boyfriend instead— not that you would do that, but Klitz wanted to be really really sure. You smiled up at him and his heart was like putty in your hands.

“I’d love to,” you beamed. “Actually, I kinda thought I already was… what, with you coming in me and everything…”

“Y-yeah, there’s that,” he mumbled, smiling nervously.

He turned his head when he heard a noise outside, it was hard to describe— sort of crackly like TV static? He figured out what it must be when he saw your eyes go wide in shock: an electric car on a gravel driveway. Specifically, your dad's electric car on your house's gravel driveway.

"Fuck!" you yelped, both of you dashing to get off of each other and find your discarded clothes. Klitz was trying to get his mostly-still-hard dick back into his pants, which was a bit of a struggle, while you rolled your skirt back down and tried to turn the hoodie right-side out again.

He was still looking for his shirt— why did he have to toss it away so dramatically, was he going for distance or something? — when he heard a key in the door and thought his heart might fall out of his ass.

You found the shirt just in time and tossed it at him unceremoniously, giving him just enough time to navigate which limb to put in which hole as he fell down onto the couch beside you and with about a nanosecond to spare, you two were posed like a couple of chaste little Bible study kids, sitting next to each other with your hands in your laps and friendly smiles on your faces.

"Hey guys, how was dinner?" you asked your parents sweetly.

"Hi Mr. and Mrs. S," Klitz waved at them.

"Hi sweetie," your mom cooed at him. "Dinner was lovely, honey— how'd your paper turn out?"

"We… finished it faster than I expected," you answered, and Klitz nodded in agreement.

"Were you watching a movie?" your dad asked.

"Yeah," you nodded, "hope you don't mind us borrowing your tape—"

"No worries," he assured. "How was the movie, was it good?"

"It was amazing," Klitz replied.

"I'll see you tomorrow," you smiled shyly, clutching your hands together as the two of you stood outside of your front door.

"Yeah," Klitz agreed with a contented sigh. He didn't think he'd ever seen you looking so… demure, maybe even innocent. It might've just been an aftereffect of having to play it cool in front of your parents just now as they told you about their dinner and asked Klitz a bunch of questions about how his parents were doing and Yale and stuff.

After giving him a split second of a mischievous smirk, you pushed him back against the door and slammed your lips onto his, kissing him hungrily. Okay, so definitely still not innocent…

You pulled away sooner than he would've wanted— he wanted to kiss you for hours, really— and placed your hands on his shoulders gently when he tried to chase your lips with his own. You looked around for a second as you stepped back, making sure no one was nearby before you reached under your skirt and pulled your lacy panties down your legs; you stepped out of them gingerly and stuffed them into his pocket with a grin.

"Something to remember me by, hm?" you offered.

As if anything could ever make him forget this.

Holding tightly onto your panties in his pocket, he walked home on a cloud. He whistled, he'd never whistled as he walked before.

The tune stopped only when he stepped inside his own house again and found Eli at the kitchen bar, happily chatting up his mom who greeted him quickly while she cleaned up after dinner. “Oh, hey Eli,” Klitz nodded; Eli was the type to show up unannounced, this wasn’t anything new, but it was more surprising when he’d been in his own head the whole walk home.

“Hey, Klitzy,” Eli returned, smiling. “I was just stopping by because my mom told me to bring your mom some book about yoga or something— but she said you’d be home soon…”

“I figured you wouldn’t be out too late if you were just studying,” Klitz’s mom pointed out, seeming to have a slight ulterior motive with the statement. “You seem to go over to that girl’s house a lot—”

This is normally the part where Klitz would defensively say she’s just a friend, Mom and she wouldn’t really believe it because she loved her son too much to properly understand that a guy like him and a girl like you wouldn’t get together. Of course, that wasn’t really as true now as it was the last fifty times, but he also didn’t want to immediately blurt out that you’d just become his girlfriend because, well, for one, it was a little pathetic to tell his mom that just a few minutes after it happened. Secondly, she’d probably ask questions Klitz was not at all in the mood to answer. Thirdly, Eli was here, and maybe it wasn’t the right time to tell him, either; and, finally, if his mom knew you were his girlfriend and not just his best friend, she’d probably start coming up with new rules about curfews and doors left open and bla bla bla— the last thing he needed was any obstacles to get to you now that he finally had what he’d been dreaming about for years.

“We’re really close,” Klitz finally decided to say, and that seemed to satisfy his mom enough to dismiss the two boys to Klitz’s room.

“I told you, I don’t wanna watch your tape,” Klitz began as soon as they were alone, sitting down on his bed with a sigh as Eli made himself comfortable in the chair by the desk.

“No no— I’m not gonna make you watch anything, I didn’t even bring it,” Eli promised. “I really was just here to deliver the book, and I figured I could say ‘hi’ and ask you how the study session went.”

Klitz sighed slightly, looking away. Truth be told, Klitz wanted to tell Eli what happened, and he never imagined not calling his best (guy) friend first when he lost his virginity. But he never imagined he would lose his virginity to you— okay, he actually imagined it a lot, he just never thought it was an actual possibility— and as a result now suddenly had to consider the repercussions of blabbing about it to Eli. Wouldn't it be wrong to kiss and tell, especially considering some bad experiences you'd had in that regard? Especially considering Eli knew you and cared about you?

“Uh, it was fine,” Klitz shrugged, “we finished the paper— and I already did mine before I got there. Have you, uh, finished yours yet?”

“Almost,” Eli answered, “just need to figure out how to do the thing in Word that makes it all spaced right— do you know how to do that?”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll show you,” Klitz offered, making a move to cross the room to his computer so he could demonstrate rather than try to explain it in words.

The thing was, while Klitz had decided he wouldn't tell Eli what happened while he was at your house, apparently fate had other plans. When Klitz stood up just then, he didn't even feel something fall out of his pocket.

"Dude— are those panties?" Eli mumbled, pointing to the lacy black thong on the bed. Klitz scrambled to grab it and stuff it back into his pocket, but it was too late. "Oh my god, Klitzy— how did you end up with a thong in your pocket?"

"I-it doesn't matter," Klitz stammered, feeling his face heat up.

"How could it not matter?!" Eli sputtered. "Who gave you those?"

"Nobody!"

"Did you take them?"

"No!"

"Are— wait," Eli stiffened up and cleared his throat, "are… those yours?"

"Are you asking me if I wear a thong?!"

"I mean… I'm gonna try not to be judgmental," Eli offered, "to each his own, right?"

"No— no!" Klitz denied. "They're, well… I just got back from—"

"Oh, shit," Eli seemed to figure it out, "did she— did you— are you guys—"

"Something happened," Klitz offered.

"Dude, you know I'm not gonna be satisfied with that," Eli rolled his eyes. "You don't have to tell me everything, just tell me what base you went to— first, second…?"

Klitz waited, and Eli's eyes widened.

"Third?" he continued, quieter, amazed when Klitz still said nothing. "H-home run?!"

Slowly, Klitz nodded, and Eli yelled emphatically like he actually was at a rowdy baseball game. "Shh!" Klitz hissed. "My parents are downstairs!"

"Sorry, I just— I'm so happy for you, man!" Eli beamed. "I can't believe you two finally fucked!"

“We made love to each other,” Klitz corrected, his face burning hot enough to cook an egg.

“Oh shut up, that’s gay,” Eli rolled his eyes.

“That’s gay?” Klitz repeated. “Me, a hot-blooded American teenage boy, having sex with a beautiful girl, is gay?”

“Whatever,” Eli rolled his eyes, which was the best he could do to admit obvious defeat in an argument. “My point is— good for you, man.”

Eli sunk his shoulders down slightly, suddenly getting a bit more serious.

"I know I mess around with you a lot. And I know I was pretty hard on you for not going after her for so long… but it's just because I knew you'd be good together— and I knew she was into you, I just couldn't get either of you to realize it!"

"Huh," Klitz said as he narrowed his eyes, "you know, you're more perceptive than I thought, Eli."

"Tell me everything," Eli demanded.

"You just said I didn't have to tell you everything," Klitz recalled.

"I changed my mind— I need to know now," Eli decided. "Just… tell me what it's like."

"What, sex?" Klitz wondered, sighing when Eli nodded quickly. "Uh, well, it's sort of hard to describe…"

"People always say that," Eli rolled his eyes.

"It's… it's like," Klitz searched for the words. "It's like a hug? But… wet."

Eli grimaced slightly. "That sounds kinda gross."

"But it's not," Klitz insisted, "and— and when she looks up at you it's like nobody else has ever existed. I never really felt like a man before that."

"And you do now?"

"Uhh, mostly," Klitz sighed. "I'm still, you know, me."

"What did her tits feel like?" Eli grinned.

"Okay, you're done," Klitz rolled his eyes, standing up. "Go home, show's over—"

"No, wait, come on," Eli pleaded, "just one more thing— just tell me one more thing! Are you gonna do it again?"

"I asked her to be my girlfriend, and she said yes," Klitz smiled slightly. "So, yeah, I really hope so."

"That's perfect," Eli announced. "You two are gonna be so good together."

Klitz's chest warmed because, yes, you were. Somehow he was sure of that, uncharacteristically unworried that it might all go horribly wrong. This was you; things always went right for him where you were involved.

Thankfully, Eli respected his privacy enough to leave not too long after that, on the condition that they find time at school tomorrow to talk more about how it all happened. The moment he had the room and house to himself again, Klitz collapsed onto his bed with a dreamy sigh, equal parts exhausted and energized— it’s a difficult feeling to describe, but he was all shaky and his head was spinning and it was euphoric. She’s my girlfriend, he kept saying to himself until he really believed it. Part of him was afraid to go to sleep in case the universe returned to normal tomorrow; really, he just didn’t want today to end yet. He thought about texting or calling you, but what would he say? Would it be too cheesy to admit he missed the sound of your voice?

Deciding to just take a much-needed shower instead, Klitz finished the rest of his nighttime routine and slipped into bed— normally, he would hope to dream of you that night, even if it left him with a sticky situation to clean up in the morning. But now, it didn’t matter as much, because he was going to see you tomorrow and his mind was overwhelmed with the possibilities of how it might go. Yes, a small fraction of his mind forced him to imagine that you’d pull him aside in the hall to say it was a mistake, that you two should just be friends again, but he didn’t really expect that after everything you’d said. He couldn’t decide if he was going to kiss you as soon as he saw you, or wait for you to do it first. Would you want to hold his hand in the hallway or be more discreet? Would you let him take you out on a date this weekend, or were you going to be impatiently desperate again? (Not that he was going to complain either way.)

Eventually, he realized that thinking about it was useless and that the sooner he fell asleep, the sooner tomorrow would come and he could see for himself what would happen when the two of you reunited. But he had one more thing to do tonight before he could fall asleep: wrap those panties around his cock and jerk off to the memory of how perfect you were.

He did last longer next time, just like you said he would— fifteen seconds, rather than eight. He’d even jerked off beforehand to try to increase his time but the way you looked up at him as he slid inside you, biting your lip and begging him to fill you as deep as he could go… yeah, he barely got a chance to gasp out something about how beautiful you are before he totally lost it. In his defense, you really did your best to drive him over the edge as fast as possible. You brought that upon yourself, really.

Then there was your genius idea to fool around in the school library, in that one section nobody ever goes to except to do this— you managed to avoid getting seen by any teachers or the security guard, but a junior did catch you two just as he was starting to reach up under your shirt. It should’ve made you both jump away from each other and try to act casual but Klitz doubled down; he wanted every student in this school to see this, if they could— see him and his girl, because honestly, they might have to see it to believe it.

He wanted them to see that you’re so obsessed with each other you can’t even wait until school lets out; he wanted them to see that you don’t just let him touch you under your shirt, you beg him to, and moan his name when he obliges.

Admittedly, he kinda didn’t want them to see when he came in his pants from said library excursion… but whatever, you didn’t mind— you were still insisting you were into that, and he was going to stop trying to convince you otherwise.

Instead, what most of them saw was the two of you sitting closer than normal at the lunch table, his arm around your waist or your head on his shoulder. Eli liked to tease you two about it sometimes, but thankfully for the most part he was just the same as usual. He was pretty supportive— if anything, a little too supportive, considering he liked to ask invasive questions and even ‘jokingly’ floated the idea of a threesome, to which you ‘seriously’ agreed just to freak him out and prove he was all bark and no bite.

In a moment, all of Klitz’s most common dilemmas were gone: it was okay to be turned on by something you were wearing, and he didn’t have to hide it anymore (except to prevent you from teasing him more and giving him a problem he couldn’t solve until he got home from school); he was allowed to look at you, and hug you and kiss you, without worrying if he was being weird; he no longer tortured himself with the possibilities, the fantasies, the anxieties, and just enjoyed being your boyfriend, maybe more than anyone’s enjoyed being my boyfriend before you told him once.

Instead, he had a new dilemma: how was he going to ask you to prom?

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sleepybobaa · 3 years ago

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I LOVE THIS SERIES/THREAD IDFK BUT I LOVE IT 😭😭

I don't know whether or not you take NSFW prompts, but if you feel up to writing this— I've seen a lot of women coming to the scary realization that men can actually feel their lady parts throbbing when they sit on those men's laps.

Is it possible that we could see some reactions from the brothers when this kind of scenario plays out? Ignorant MC trying to keep themselves together without knowing they've already been given away. And can this be set before any romantic relationship develops? Thank you so much!

Older Brothers React to "Feeling" You...

(Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan)

a/n: i've literally had this planned for so long! >:(( i'm not too good at writing nsfw yet so i hope you still end up liking this >< i'll upload for the younger brothers soon! ilya! take care and have fun getting a tad spicy ;D

warning: nsfw prompt! read with caution!, not proofread!

Feelings don’t always have to be said. Sometimes you look at the object of your affection and you just know. They’d smile at you with a smile that insinuates something more than a friendly relationship, stares linger, touches heat you up from the inside and burns hotter the longer time goes on.

Lucifer:

You and Lucifer grew closer when you came back for your second year in the Devildom. He’s always been closed off and unwilling to open up to temporary people.

He says it’s to save himself from the hassle, it’s truly to save his heart from the ache when they leave.

He lets you grow close to his brothers before he takes his time in the spotlight. He wanted to sort of “feel out” how your relationship was going with his six younger brothers because though he’d never admit it out loud, he’d always put them on top of his list of priorities.

But when you grew close, you grew close quickly.

He’d invite you to lunch, the pair of you would go on strolls, and he’d let you have full access to his room and his office (even when he wasn’t around).

You’d normally hang out in his room during days when none of the other Avatars are vying for your attention; It’d normally be on the days when Lucifer tries to call for family meetings regarding the weekly spending and the overall average grades of the family.

For some strange reason, you’d be the only one at his door when the time came.

You’d take the time to just chill together, maybe watch a few movies when the eldest finishes his pile of paperwork early.

He loved catching you off guard. You’d be sitting in a swivel chair beside him and he’d suddenly stand up, carry you bridal style and carry you to his plush bed with the satin sheets.

He’d sit you on his lap or between his legs and he’d hold you tight while you hold your breath.

He smelled like sin incarnate; so intoxicating and teasing and you were afraid you’d get drunk on him if you breathed in too much.

You’d normally quickly pull away, face burning red and chest heaving and he’d simply stare at you in confusion.

But confusion’s a strong word… He’s what some might call a uh- “actor”.

He’s well aware of your quickening heartbeat; the arousal was practically dripping off your soul and if he were any other demon, he’d probably pin you down on the bed and take you the way he wants you.

But he wasn’t just any demon; he’s Lucifer Morningstar.

And this cocky motherfucker had a nasty habit of teasing.

You were lounging in Lucifer’s room again that day. The other boys were doing their own things so you were left to your own devices with the eldest. You were somewhat repressing your feelings for him- I mean, he’s this almighty being, the literal Avatar of Pride, why in Diavolo’s name would he ever be attracted to a simple, weak human? Right?

Right…

Your eyes would wander from your D.D.D screen, linger on his form and your collar would feel too tight around your neck. For some reason, you wanted something else wrapped around your neck. Unbeknownst to you, Lucifer was well aware of your stare; in fact, he would steal glances at your lying form on his bed. He was all alone with you, he was done with the work Diavolo assigned to him and now he was getting quite… bored. He watched as your thighs rubbed together ever so deliciously when the most brilliant idea popped into his mind.

He made a show of filing the papers away into one of the many drawers his desk had and he took his sweet time in walking toward you. Your hair splayed against the sheets, your body looked tiny in his king-sized bed. Your eyes were demure but he could see past the faux innocence; A little devil disguised as the purest of angels. He smiled at you as he reached down to lift you effortlessly into the air before sitting you down on his lap.

You were straddling him.

You sucked a sharp breath through your teeth; well fuck it all then. You were trying so hard to not fall victim to his charms but being in such close proximity to his boyish smirk and those ruby eyes of his that were… Absolutely mesmerizing. You tried to calm your racing heart but you could feel your body heat up in more ways than one.

Before Lucifer could even tease you, he felt it. The light thrum, a sort of pulse rhythmically beat lightly against his upper thigh; it was such a faint feeling, he almost missed it. His eyes widened ever so slightly, he scanned your face for any trace of embarrassment or even discomfort but your shallow breathing indicated otherwise.

A low chuckle rumbles in his chest as he grabs your face in one of his large hands, “Well, then… What’s with the look on your face, my dear?” His voice made the fire burning in your core burn hotter. You were stuttering a lousy excuse as he nodded mindlessly.

The pulsing only grew stronger, quite frankly. It was irregular and he quickly grew addicted to the feeling of it. You couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped your lips. An airy sound akin to a whine that had his devilish grin grow wider. Your arms snake up to wrap around his neck and you wriggle around helplessly as Lucifer made no move to push you off. You whined about how embarrassed you were but he could tell from your body that… Well, you were far from embarrassed. You seemed to actually enjoy this.

He bucks his thigh up and the sound you made…

Well, well well… Who knew you were capable of sounding so much sweeter?

Mammon:

Mammon could go one or two ways with you. He could either be incredibly clingy; he’d say that only he deserves cuddle privileges, only he gets to take you out on joyrides, only he gets to do things with you because why? Because he’s the Great Mammon, your First Man, obviously.

Or, he could also be the colder than the fucking icy tundras. He’d feign disinterest in you and whatnot but don’t let him fool you; Seeing you look the way you do is almost always enough to drive him closer and closer off the edge and he’d have to excuse himself from the room you’re all in to deal with his little– big? – problem.

He was “forced” to babysit you the moment you walked into the Devildom but he grew incredibly fond of you. He bordered on obsessed, honestly.

He’d never admit that he seeks you out more than you seek him out.

You felt most comfortable with Mammon of all the brothers; You were able to hold his hand and you found refuge in his arms when you were scared.

You’d never admit it out loud, but he was your favorite.

And he’d never tell you but… you were his favorite too.

He’s much more easily flustered than his older brother and out of the seven, he ranks rather low on the seduction— not because he isn’t seductive!

He’s just so sweet and shy so he never gets to try his charm out on you.

You were pure like freshly fallen snow, as perfect as you were uncorrupted.

Holding back has proven to be a hefty task on his end but he’s managed to be the perfect best friend so far… He’s not weak-willed like his other brothers.

Instead… He’s greedy.

And the way your plush thighs peeked out from your tight little skirt made him want to devour you– body and soul.

Drinking isn't really your strong suit and Mammon learnt that the hard way; A few months after you came to the Devildom, he had taken you out to go bar hopping in hopes of using you as a scapegoat when he wanted to come home late. He very quickly regretted that decision when he had to drag you up the stairs of the House of Lamentation at 1 in the morning after you drank your water weight in expensive liquor. You puked in his car and the damage you had done to his wallet with all the drinks you had… It wasn’t worth it.

That was such a long time ago now though, surely you had gotten better at holding your liquor… right?

No. Mayday, mayday– Abort the mission!

In the crowded club, you were so intoxicated by the swaying bodies on the dance floor, the addictive burn of alcohol as you threw back shot after shot; Your body seemingly moved on its own to the heavy bass of the music.

You were sitting at a large booth and only you and Mammon had decided to go out that night. He had left begrudgingly to get more shots after you hogged the first round he had got. He specifically told you to stay put but when he had come back with a tray of about 6 different drinks, you were grinding up against some low level demon–

The way the bastard’s hands gripped tightly on your hips as he pressed his body up against yours– All Mammon could see was red.

He dropped the drinks on the booth table and stormed over. To your defense, though, the drinks were particularly strong that night! You couldn’t even deny the delicious burn of the way Mammon pulled your arm toward him. He was so strong, so capable of breaking you but choosing to be delicate with you like you were fine china…

You let him drag you away from your (equally drunk) dance partner. He forewent the drinks and dragged you to a quiet, secluded corner. His eyebrows were furrowed and his jaw ticked in uncontrollable jealousy. He glared down at your smaller frame; Fuck, the way your eyes glazed over in your drunken state. Your lips, parted in shallow breathing, glistened in the dim light of the club and it took everything in him to not kiss you in that moment.

“I told you to stay put. You could’ve been harassed by some drunk sicko.” His grip on your bicep never relaxed, if anything it tightened as he raked his eyes hungrily over your body…

By chance, your legs give out. You stumble into his arms and he’s quick to catch you, of course, but your thighs envelope one of his legs and he freezes up. Your hands grip onto his forearm lightly to balance yourself and the way you glance up at him so shyly– He thanks every good thing in the Devildom for the dim lights and he turns away to keep his growing problem under tight wraps. He’s about to push you away from him until he catches it– the way your breathing hitched and the rapidly quickening beating of your heart.

Throbbing. Light thrumming against his jean-clad thighs.

You would’ve visibly seen the way he gulped but you couldn’t even catch it with how intoxicated you were. You were too focused on suppressing the moan threatening to rip out your throat to notice the way his eyes darkened with lust. His thigh rubbed against you so delectably– Pupils dilated, he smirks hungrily at you. You smelled so sweet.

Maybe just for tonight, you’d forgive him for wanting to be more than your best friend.

He shakes your hands off lightly and places them against the wall behind you, ultimately caging you under him, “(MC)... You like this don’t you? Being in the arms of the Great, Strong Mammon…”

You couldn’t help but melt into his arms as you felt one of his hands snake around your waist.

You’d never kiss and tell but you did wake up in his bed the very next morning…

Leviathan:

Levi’s a very shy boy; He doesn’t do it on purpose, he just feels that you might enjoy the attention of other men is all and… Well, a thought process like that has long lasting effects on a person’s self esteem!

What you aren’t aware of though, is the complete 180 he does when he’s Grand Admiral Leviathan.

Your shy boy melts away and is completely unrecognizable and quite frankly; it’s such a sight.

You never see his serious side. He’s envious, too aware of the difference in respect he gets as Admiral Leviathan and as Otaku Levi.

He met you during his down time– he didn’t really tend to Hell’s Navy as much and he didn’t want you to expect that side all the time.

Levi found it simpler to be the shy, awkward one.

So you, unbeknownst to him, fell in love with the shy, awkward Levi.

You never let your blossoming feelings for him affect the way you treated him. There were obviously days when he made the coil in your stomach tighten from some small act of skinship–

In a way, you felt a tad embarrassed and pathetic even about getting off on the bare minimum from him…

You weren’t aware of how he was doing the exact same thing.

Every night he’d invite you to play video games with him or binge watch an anime and he’d always have to excuse himself at some point.

You were quite the cuddler so you’d climb onto his lap to cuddle him once you started getting sleepy.

He’d almost always push you off lightly about 20 minutes into your tired cuddles to go to the washroom.

He’d always come back sweatier and with flushed cheeks.

At times, Levi gets a little frustrated; Why can’t he be more assertive? If he tried a little more with you, your friendship would have already turned into something more by now…

Don’t worry though, Levi… You don’t have to worry about making the first move.

Game nights with Levi always turned into more of you watching Levi play games on his computer as you relaxed in his bathtub. You loved seeing him so focused; It was the only way you got to catch a glimpse of serious Levi; and serious Levi made you feel some type of way. His grip on his mouse, the way his fingers flexed and moved oh so nimbly across the keyboard of his desktop setup– You start wondering how else he could put his skilled hands to use.

You laid back on his plush blankets, your head resting on his Ruri-chan body pillow as loud music you could only describe as a combat soundtrack boomed on his speakers. He was in a long round of the game he was obsessing over and you were getting really bored; scrolling on your D.D.D could only entertain you for so long.

You were on Devilgram and you stumbled upon a trend of sorts. It was a pretty simple concept on paper: Play a sexy song, walk over to your significant other, or your best friend in this case, and sit on their lap. Okay. You could totally do that.

Boy were you wrong.

You decided to do it when Levi won the most recent round he had joined. You could finish it in 2 minutes tops anyways. Putting on a random playlist, you slowly walk over to the third born. He had his back towards you so you decided to have a little fun with the trend. Grazing a hand on the nape of his neck, you felt him tense up under your touch, “W-Woah! (MC)!” He yelped, spinning around to look at you with a bright blush on his face. Your smile was demure, you raise a finger to your lips and motioned for him to stay quiet. Your other hand was busy playing around with the fabric of his collar. My, he was heating up so quickly.

He was silent and stiff as a board (In more ways than one). His eyes stay locked on your face; He was afraid that if he looked at the way you were touching him, he’d implode. Shallow pants and quiet music played in the air, you were having a grand old time messing with him. You circled him and paused when you stood between his spread legs. You could feel your confidence falter when you saw how intensely he stared at you like you held his world in the palm of your hand.

Oh shit.

You hesitate, your hand that was trailing up and down his forearm paused and you swear, you heard a shameless whine from him. You eye him down and take a shaky breath; You’ve already gone this far… Might as well…

You push him further back into his gaming chair as you sit on his lap, your arms hanging off his shoulders. Your face was dangerously close to his, “Hey, Levi… I-” Your throat was dry and you couldn’t look at him without feeling the blood rush to your cheeks. Your body warmed like a teapot; you were worried you started developing a fever of sorts.

“W-W-What is all this about, (MC)—”

As he stuttered out a sentence, he couldn’t help but focus on the sensations he felt. He was hyper aware of his heavy breathing, your honeyed voice was almost too much for him to handle. Every micromovement was exemplified tenfold and he… could feel you.

The light beating against his thigh, like a faint heartbeat. He felt blood rush down south at the very thought of what it could mean.

However, that leaves him in an awful predicament; What should he do in this situation?! What in the world had gotten into you?! He could almost feel the way your chest rose up and down, almost against his own and the way he could hold you if he just had the guts to–

He recalled an adult anime he watched quite recently… Funny how similar the situation was– How did it end again? Oh– The sex scene–

“H-Hello? Earth to Levi? I said I saw this trend on Devilgram—Holy shit! Levi, your nose!”

You had kept your eyes on his chest, too shy to meet his gaze from the utter embarrassment you felt from what you just pulled but the moment you look up, you see— drip, drip, drip–

He was having one of the most intense nosebleeds you’ve ever seen.

What started as a silly little trend turned into you, panicking as you rushed around the house trying to tend to Poor Levi and his bleeding nose.

Don’t ever ask him why his nose started bleeding though… He took care of his other issue the moment you stopped fretting…

What he’d give to have you sit on his lap like that again…

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sleepybobaa · 3 years ago

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NAW NAW NAW

It do be like that

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sleepybobaa · 3 years ago

Text

he’s just playing his little ol guitar

paul dano playing the guitar is something i didn’t know i needed

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sleepybobaa · 3 years ago

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bro ,,,,

Do You Want Fries With That?

Warning(s): degradation, slut shaming, Brian is icky and i want him in my bed, fingering, AFAB! Reader, Unsafe sex, party, underage drinking, smoking (cigarettes), let me know if there's warning I missed and I'll add it <3

Author's Note: My brother's in Christ thank you so much for your patience with me, I think I've finally gotten my writing inspo back which is poggers (Of course the first fic I post in a bit is a Brian Willcox fic because I have terrible taste in men)

Summary: “You afraid you’ll actually like fucking someone as disgusting as me?” Bingo. Bullseye. Checkmate. Winner winner chicken fucking dinner.

Ao3

“Oh my god (Y/N) you should totally go flirt with him.”

You tilt your head at Jessie, brows furrowed as you follow her line of sight to the greasy dark-haired boy standing at the counter—you recognize him from school, not by name of course, but you’d seen him in the halls or in his car smoking and skipping class.

You frown, nose scrunching as you look back at Jessie, “Why would I do that?”

“Because it would be funny duh” she responds with a giggle, shoving her unfinished drink to the side.

Maddy nudges your side,"I bet if you showed him a little bit of cleavage he'd cream his pants–"

"Guys I don't know–"

Kirsten rolls her eyes, "Come on, don't be such a fucking stick in the mud its just a little bit of harmless fun."

You bite your cheek, fidgeting with the end of your skirt as you glance again at the boy behind the counter. He’s not bad looking in your opinion—but he’s not exactly the type of guy you’d usually go for.

Still you can’t help but appreciate his looks a bit—he’s tall and lanky, nearly 6 feet tall if the height difference between him and his coworker is anything to go by. His black hair comes down to his shoulders and you get the feeling that he doesn’t really do much to take care of it—-and you hate that he pulls the look off so easily.

Usually he’d be wearing all black so it’s a little jarring to see him in the bright yellow Mickey’s uniform—but he’s still got a long sleeved black shirt under it and his usual black leather bracelets buckled around his wrists. His pants are baggy around his waist, barely kept up by his fraying belt and you can just barely see the long chain hanging against one leg.

If you’re completely honest he’s actually more your type than the guys you usually went out with—-you don’t admit that to your friends of course.

“Come on (Y/N) you’d be doing him a favor— he isn’t exactly a chick magnet” Maddy chirps, brushing your hair behind your ear a bit.

Jessie leans over the table, “Come on don’t be a prude—”

You pout, “I’m not being a prude—”

“Sure had us fooled—” Kirsten teases, giving you a pointed look, “We’re not even asking you to go fuck the guy.”

The girls look at you expectantly and you instantly feel powerless, biting your cheek and averting your gaze as you shift to the edge of the booth, “Sorry I was being stupid—you guys are totally right it’s not even a big deal.” you force a giggle, smiling as you get up from the table.

Jessie smacks your ass and winks as you pass, “Remember to show a little cleavage—”

You weren’t a mean girl—-or at least you liked to think so—but you hang out with mean girls. In fact, that's what the majority of your friend group consists of—mean, bitchy, popular girls who found joy in putting others down and the asshole jocks they liked to screw around with.

And you blindly follow them—-at this point it’s hard to even make excuses for yourself. It was social suicide to stand up to them and as much as you hated the way they treated people, you also weren’t willing to give up the social status you had gained from them—who were you to complain when they had basically taken you under their wing when you moved to town in your freshmen year.

Really you were no better than them—so maybe you were a mean girl.

You were certainly on track to making that a proven fact as you made your way towards the counter to do as your friends had instructed. It's just a little bit of harmless fun––just flirt and embarrass him a little and be done with it.

The boy, whose name you still couldn't remember, had his back turned so he didn't notice you at first. His coworker—possibly another classmate—glances at you, brows furrowed for a moment before he gestures for the black-haired boy to look in your direction. He turns to you grumbling something about how much he hated his job, and for a moment you consider turning back.

He stares dumbly at you, brows furrowing as he speaks in a very flat and bored tone, “Welcome to Mickey’s I’m Brian how can I help you.”

Brian––you do vaguely remember hearing that name being tossed around—it seems so very fitting for him, though you can’t say you could possibly imagine another name for him.

You glance back at your friends—Maddy gives you a thumbs up, Jessie winks at you making a gesture like she’s encouraging you to show off your tits a bit more—Kirsten holds your gaze for a few seconds like she’s daring you to turn back.

Fuck it—it was just a little harmless fun–-so what if that made you a mean girl.

You turn to look at Brian again, giving him your best smile, honey-sweet and flirty as you lean forward, palms flat against the counter, chest on full display for Brian (and his coworker) to see. He seems almost completely unfazed, glancing at you with a look somewhere between boredom and annoyance.

He hardly even looks down at your chest, green eyes flitting down for the briefest of moments. Most men spent a good majority of their interactions with you just staring at your chest—especially after you hit puberty—god you still remember the exact moment boys started to look at you differently. So having a boy suddenly ignore you like this was—odd to say the very least.

His eyes are a little slower in the way they drag back up from your chest to meet your eyes once more, still bored as ever as you lean in a little more, biting your lower lip in the way that always seemed to drive guys mad, “We go to school together don’t we?”

He stares at you for what feels like ages and then shrugs, offering you nothing more than a grunt. You take it in stride, though it does throw you off a bit the way he doesn’t seem at all affected by your advances. Men were usually so simple, so easy to crack, a few flirty glances and they all fell to their knees in an instant. Brian at his core is like any other man, just show him a little skin and he’ll crumble like all the rest.

You giggle despite him having not said a word—it only seems to annoy him more as he rolls his eyes at you and sighs heavily, "Can I help you?"

You bob your head to the side, and smile thoughtfully, “Maybe—ya know I’m surprised I haven’t noticed you before, you’re kinda cute.”

"Listen I’m gonna stop you right there, I know your type and im not interested"

You blink at him, laughing awkwardly, "I don't know what you mean by that Brian."

He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms and huffing, "You think that just because you're a pretty girl that you can do whatever you want and get away with it—"

You stammer, face going red as you try to deny his accusation, but he talks over you.

"Let me guess, your friends dared you to come over here and put on a little show for me—see if I'd embarrass myself for your entertainment? You must be really fucking full of yourself if you think I wouldn't see right through your little nice girl act—"

"I—I wasn't—that's not why—"

He doesn't seem at all interested in hearing your excuses and honestly you don't even know what to say.

"Listen Princess, I'm sure you're used to every other loser you fuck with giving you what you want and you probably think you're doing them some kind of favor but I'm not fucking interested, so either order or get fucking lost."

You bite down on your bottom lip, swallowing a whimper as you blink back tears and Brian stares at you with disdain, the hint of a smirk on his lips as his coworker snickers behind him. You glance back at your friends and they’re all laughing at you—Kirsten in particular looks especially pleased by this turn of events as she points and giggles.

It shouldn’t surprise you as much as it does that their cruelty has been turned towards you—that’s just how they are sometimes. They only wanted someone to laugh at so they could feel like they were above it all—it didn’t matter that it was you they were throwing under the bus—you just needed to learn to take a fucking joke.

You don’t even fault them for it anymore and come tomorrow this would be a thing of the past and you would go back to following them blindly. But for now you have to focus on not crying in front of them all—especially Brian.

“So what’s it gonna be Princess? Are you gonna order something or do you want me to keep embarrassing you in front of your friends?” He sneers, crossing his arms as you finally look at him, “Or are you one of those girls that get off on being humiliated?”

No—absolutely fucking not—you weren’t enjoying this—

He bobs his head to one side and lets his eyes drag over your body—it’s different from the way boys usually look at you—and it definitely should not make you feel hot between your thighs. His eyes drag back up to meet yours and you shiver, biting down a quiet choked gasp.

After a minute of struggling to think of a response all you can manage is a weak, “Fuck you—”

He chuckles darkly, tongue jutting out to wet his lips as he smirks at you, “You want fries with that?”

Your bottom lip trembles and you bite your cheek to keep from crying as you curl your fists at your side and turn on your heels, refusing to look Brian in the eyes as you rush back to your table. Your friends are still laughing, barely trying to muffle their excitement at your humiliation as you grab your bag off of the seat next to Maddy.

“(Y/N) babes, where are you going?” Maddy chirps, just barely hiding her giggle behind her hand.

“I’m going home—”

Kirsten rolls her eyes, tapping her long nails on the table and sneering at you, “Oh don’t be so dramatic hun it’s not that big of a deal.”

You shake your head, swallowing the urge to start crying as you try to maintain your dignity, “No it’s not this I just remembered I still haven’t finished that paper for History and I want to make sure I have it done before that party this weekend.”

Jessie huffs on the other side of Kirsten, “Oh shit would you do mine? I totally suck at that History crap–”

“Yeah sure—just tell me what your topic was and I’ll get it done before Friday”

“Awesome! Thanks babes you’re a total lifesaver!” Jessie giggles, “No hard feelings about tonight right?”

Kirsten gives you a look, brow raised as you look down at your feet sheepishly and laugh nervously, “Yea–yea no hard feelings, it's not even a big deal or anything—I’ll see you tomorrow okay.”

You don’t even let them finish their goodbyes before you turn tail and head for the exit, heels clicking loudly as you rush to your car. You let out a shaky breath as soon as you close your car door behind you and settle into the front seat. You don’t even know what’s more distressing— the humiliation— or the fact that you actually kind of liked Brian humiliating you.

You blink away the tears starting to spill down your cheeks and stare through the windshield until you see Brian watching you from inside the restaurant with a smug little smile, green eyes staring right through you like he knew exactly how he was making you feel.

You had never in your life broken so many traffic laws to get home as fast as possible—ignoring the questioning look your father gave you from the living room when you slammed the front door shut behind you.

You wish you could say that night was the one and only time you went to bed after making yourself cum on your fingers thinking about Brian and the way he had humiliated you. But you couldn’t get him out of your head—it was like your interaction at Mickey’s had turned a dial in your brain and now you notice him everywhere.

He was driving you fucking nuts and it wasn’t like you could talk to anyone about it—your friends would have a field day if they found out you had the hots for Brian of all people. So you kept it to yourself, hoping the feelings would just go away—-God, you hadn’t felt like this since you first hit puberty.

It didn’t help that he seemed to know exactly how he was affecting you, always giving you the same smirk whenever he caught you staring at him in the halls at school or while he was smoking by his car.

Brian isn’t a guy you should get involved with—he was the kind of guy who fucked you like he hated you—-and he had made it abundantly clear that he hated you. Plus it was social suicide to be seen with a guy like him.

Maybe there was something wrong with you because you couldn’t seem to help yourself—you start seeking him out—-you try to convince yourself that it’s just to prove a point—it’s complete bullshit—you wanted him to humiliate you again.

The bell at the front door of Mickey’s jingles and your heels click on the tiled floor as you step into the restaurant. You glance around, pleased to find that there aren’t many people around—at least not anyone you went to school with.

Brian was once again turned away from you, leaning back against the counter and chatting with the same coworker from last time—his name still escapes you and as horrible as that makes you feel, you can’t really bring yourself to care too much as you stand on the other side of the counter waiting patiently for them to notice you.

His coworker glances at you clearly both confused and amused that you had returned—you don’t miss the way his eyes drag down your body before he speaks, “Brian you’ve got a customer.”

Brian groans, stretching his arms out above his head before he turns to face you, he raises a brow at you when he recognizes you, “Look who decided to come back,” he looks past you as if searching the rows of booths and tables for your usual friend group.

You offer him your sweetest smile,” I came alone,” you laugh nervously, “No dare this time I promise”

Somehow it’s almost more humiliating knowing your friends aren’t there with you—-at least then you had the excuse of stupid dare to fall back on—

“Why did you come back then?” He smirks, tilting his head down at you.

Good fucking question.

You bow your head sheepishly, “I came to apologize—”

“Bullshit”

You flinch, looking up at him with furrowed brows and flushed cheeks, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me Princess.” He hums, eyes slowly dragging down your body, “I think you came back because you liked being humiliated—”

You stammer,“That’s not why—”

He leans against the counter and still towers over you, “You and I both know that’s bullshit.”

All you can do is stare at him, blinking stupidly and struggling to speak.

He chuckles, pleased by your dumbstruck look, “I’ve got a break in 15 minutes if you wanna show me why you really came here.”

“I came to apologize that’s all” you sound far less sure of yourself than you want to as you shake your head and anxiously watch him.

He raises a brow, tongue swiping out for a split second to wet his lips as he smirks at you, “Come one don’t act all innocent now, I know you came here to get humiliated again—”

You shake your head again, making yourself a bit dizzy, “That’s not—”

He leans a little further forward his voice lowering, “You afraid you’ll actually like fucking someone as disgusting as me?”

Bingo. Bullseye. Checkmate. Winner winner chicken fucking dinner.

The whimper escapes your lips before you can even swallow it and you freeze instantly, hands trembling at your side as you fight to look away from Brian. He looks shocked for a split second, brows raised and cheeks slightly flushed before his lips curve up into a smug little grin.

He chuckles darkly, “Well isn’t that cute—”

You can’t even bring yourself to speak—anything you say would probably only humiliate you further. You bite your lower lip and suck in a stuttered breath before turning on your heels, Brian’s laughter echoing behind you as you helplessly rush to your car—once again feeling far too hot between your thighs.

You figured after your second time being humiliated by Brian that your thirst would be quenched and you could move on with your life—go back to screwing around with mediocre men and letting your friends walk all over you. But your fixation only seemed to worsen the more you tried to deny it.

Maddy’s boyfriend Hunter was hosting a big party tonight—that was your opportunity to forget all about Brian—or at least make a damned good attempt at forgetting.

Except you weren’t exactly fond of the distractions being offered to you tonight. Maddy had been trying to set you up with her boyfriend’s best friend Max for nearly 2 months and you were beyond uninterested at this point.

So you were adamantly avoiding him—slipping into the crowd of drunk teens and hiding whenever you saw him. You almost felt a little bad—Max wasn’t a bad guy—-though you honestly hadn’t made much of an effort to get to know him so you really couldn’t say that for sure. He was a jock who spent most of his time trying to bore you to death with football stats or trying not so slyly to get into your pants.

Avoiding Max was made a little less annoying since he was easy to spot when he was twice your size and stood only an inch or two shorter than Brian. Still it was getting a bit tedious having to duck your head every time you saw him enter a room. You wanted to be able to enjoy the party—you’d dressed up in your cutest little slip dress that barely covered your ass—and you were barely getting to show it off because you were too fucking anxious to tell Maddy that you didn’t want to fuck Max.

You poke your head into the kitchen, sighing in relief when you don’t see Max in there waiting for you. You slip past a couple making out by the counter, swiping a red solo cup and pouring the first bottle you can reach into it—as long as it gets you tipsy you honestly don’t care how it tastes at this point.

At least you didn’t have to avoid Brian—he rarely came to these parties—you doubted he was even ever invited on the occasions that he did make an appearance. A part of you foolishly hoped that you would see him—-you weren’t doing a very good job of trying to forget him.

You sip absently at your mystery drink, eyes darting over the crowd until you spot Jessie and Maddy making their way towards you, smiling and giggling drunkenly. You do your best to look pleased to see them, raising your cup in silent greeting as they come stumbling into the kitchen.

“(Y/N)! Oh my god you bitch we’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Jessie chirped, words slurring a bit towards the end.

Maddy giggles, leaning heavily against Jessie’s side, “Max has been looking for you too,”

You can’t help but roll your eyes at that, taking another sip of your drink as your eyes dart again over the crowd to make sure Max isn’t coming your way.

Maddy’s nose wrinkles at you and she scoffs, “Ya know you’re being a real bitch avoiding him all the time—”

“I’m not being a bitch—”

“Yes you are—I don’t even know why I tried setting you guys up, you can’t even appreciate what I did for you”

You sigh, tension already pulsing in your forehead, “I’m sorry. I just don’t really feel like myself right now—I promise I’m not avoiding him.”

She squints at you, glancing at Jessie silently communicating with her before looking back at you again, “ Is this about that stupid thing at Mickeys?”

“What—” you sputter, nearly spitting out your drink, “No–it’s not—it’s not about that—I’m just stressed about school I guess I don’t know.”

Jessie giggles, she's probably the happiest drunk you’ve ever met, “You just need some dick–” she hiccups and tugs on Maddy’s arm, “I wanna go dance”

You give a strained smile, laughing awkwardly, “Maybe you’re right.”

Maddy seems to have lost interest in scolding you, excited at the offer to dance, “Ooo! Good Idea—(Y/N) stop avoiding Max”

“Will do—”

She doesn’t even wait for your answer before she’s dragging Jessie back into the crowd, both of them swaying precariously. Just as you think that you’ve still got a minute to relax before you have to hide again, you spot Max standing near Jessie and Maddy, the two girls instantly pointing in your direction— God this was shaping up to be the worst game of Hide and Seek that you’d ever played.

You duck your head as quick as you can, darting out of the room and into the hall to find a new place to hide.

You glance behind you for a second before slipping into a dimly lit room. The door shuts behind you and you lock it with a click, resting your head against the frame with a sigh of relief–-peace at last.

A cough echoes behind you and you nearly drop your cup as you turn to look at whoever you had locked in the room with you. You see a cloud of smoke first, and then as it gets blown out the window you find yourself staring into a pair of familiar green eyes.

"Don't look so disappointed to see me Princess, you'll hurt my feelings"

You really had the worst luck.

You blinked stupidly at Brian as he sits in front of the window, a nearly finished cigarette perched between his fingers.

"What are you doing here?"

He snorts, tapping his finger against the cigarette and watching as the ashes fall, "I could ask you the same thing— aren't girls like you supposed to be the life of the party"

You frown, crossing your arms over your chest, "I'm just taking a break"

He nods but doesn't seem at all convinced based on the little smirk he's got, "Your friends ditch you?"

"No, they just–"

"Ya know I can be pretty good company when I want to be" he hums thoughtfully, putting the cigarette out against the window frame before tossing it carelessly out the window. He stands and even though you've got plenty of space between the two of you, you suddenly feel cornered.

He takes a step towards you, tilting his head and smirking as his green eyes wander over your body, “I was sorta disappointed that you left so quickly last time we talked—but that little noise you made before you left made it worth it.”

You whimper, biting your tongue and pressing your back against the door frame as he takes a few more steps closer to you,chuckling, “Who knew you were such a little freak—”

Brian crowds you against the door, one hand resting palm flat next to your head while the other reaches out to brush a stray hair from your face, “What’s it gonna be princess—you gonna stop acting all innocent and let me fuck you—-or do you wanna go back out there and join your pathetic excuse for friends?”

You scoff, doing your best to look as annoyed as possible despite the heat already pooling in your stomach, “Why would I–-Why would I fuck you?”

“Because you know I’ll fuck you in the way you need to be fucked,” he pauses, relishing in the way your breath stutters, “You want to be ruined don’t you princess—”

“No I don’t—that’s disgusting—”

At this point you aren’t even doing a good job of convincing yourself and Brian, like the asshole he is, looks all too smug about it. He drags one hand slowly down your arms until you can feel his fingers slipping beneath the hem of your dress. He hums in appreciation when he brushes over your panties, damp fabric telling him everything he needed to know.

He leans in a little until you can feel his breath hot against your ear, “Then why are you so wet princess?”

You whimper and he chuckles, pressing his thumb over your clit for a second before pulling his hand out from under your skirt. He tilts his head at you and rests his hand on your hip, stroking slow circles over the fabric of your dress, “You have a choice to make.”

You should leave. You should slip out of his arms and go back out to the party. You’d probably have to deal with Max but maybe that was worth it. Or maybe Brian was right—and you hated him for that. More than anything you hated that you still wanted him.

He’s giving you a way out—-a way to tell him to shove it where the sun doesn’t shine—-a way to maintain what's left of your dignity. And Brian is all too calm about the situation, shifting his leg between your thighs and smiling down at you like he isn’t giving you an impossible choice—-he doesn’t even seem worried that you’ll turn him down.

Fuck him—fuck this party—fuck your friends—-fuck Max—-

Fuck it—

You don’t say a word, your hand curling into the front of his hoodie as you drag him down, crashing your lips into his before he can stop you. He seems genuinely surprised at first, eyes wide and cheeks flushed—and you almost think that you might have some power over him.

He lets you take control for all of 5 seconds before he presses you a little harder into the door, fingers digging into your hip as he kisses you with a bruising force.

His lips are softer than you had expected—not that you would ever admit to ever imagining what they might feel like. And he tastes of cigarette smoke, shitty beer, and Mickey’s curly fries—it should disgust you—-more than anything it just makes you disgusted in yourself—and you love it.

You aren’t inexperienced by any means—and yet kissing Brian makes you feel like it's your first time all over again—-he’s rough and all consuming, dragging you impossibly close and leaving you dizzy.

He moves his hand off of the door behind you, quickly cradling the back of your neck, fingers tangling into your hair. He tugs lightly at first, smirking into the kiss when you gasp and then tugs again a little harder until your mouth falls open in a pathetic little whine.

“Needy little thing–,”he coos at you, kissing your jaw, “You just need someone to put you in your place don’t you princess?”

He nips at the underside of your jaw, pressing the rough fabric of his pants against your clothed cunt until you respond with a whimper. You can feel him grin as he presses another kiss to your jaw, “You make such pretty little noises.” he praises, “I’ve barely touched you and you’re already so worked up—you’ve been imagining this haven’t you?”

You try to shake your head, and he chuckles, “You don’t have to lie princess, we both know you’re just a pretty little whore who likes to get humiliated—otherwise you would have left already.”

You really shouldn’t let him call you a whore—and you absolutely shouldn’t feel so turned on by it.

“I’m not—”

“Not what?” He raises a brow at you, “Not a whore?” You shake your head and he narrows his eyes at you, tugging your hair again until you let out a choked whine.

“No—i’m not a whore—”

He tilts his head, “Then leave, because I’m not here to treat you nicely,” his fingers grip your hip harder, dragging you forward until his knee is once again pressed firmly against your cunt, “If you stay here I’ll show you exactly how much of a needy little whore you really are.”

It’s not even a threat at this point, it's a promise. You don’t move an inch, still firmly pressed against the door despite him having loosened his hold on you slightly. He’s giving you another opportunity to leave and instead of taking it like you know you should—you roll your hips against his leg with a whine.

Brian hums, “See that wasn’t so hard,” he pauses, tugging your hair and forcing you to tilt your head to look at him—His dark hair hangs over his face, just barely hiding the way his green eyes darken as he stares back at you, “You gonna let me ruin you?”

It’s pathetic how quickly you submit to him with a quiet whimper, “Please—”

He grins wolfishly, pushing you back against the door and grinding his knee between your thighs one more time before moving his hand from your hip back under your dress. He laughs when you let out an airy whine, cunt clenching around nothing as his fingers brush over your dampened panties, “Fuck—you’re soaked—you really need it bad don’t you baby—that why you were being so bratty before?”

Your bottom lip trembles and you look away sheepishly as he drags his thumb over your clit with a low hum of approval against your collarbone. You bite your tongue, swallowing a moan as you arch into his hand, clinging to his hoodie with trembling hands.

“You get this wet for all the jocks you spread your legs for”

You want to tell him that you actually haven’t even fucked that many guys—and most of them weren’t even jocks—but he makes it clear he isn’t actually looking for an answer as he works he shoves your panties to the side and runs his fingers over your slick cunt making you inhale sharply before can say a single word.

“I bet they all treat you like a little cumdump don’t they?” he hums, thumb grazing your clit again, “Dumb little thing like you probably begs them to fill you up, right?”

You whimper, “No–-No—I don’t—I make them use condoms—”

“Oh yea? Maybe you aren’t as stupid as I thought—” He teased, fingers prodding at your entrance, “I’ll fix that though don’t you worry, I’ll remind you what a dumb little slut you are.”

“I’m not—”

He clicks his tongue, and bites your shoulder, “Shut up—I don’t wanna hear shit from you unless you’re begging me to fuck you.”

You fall silent in an instant, save for a choked whine as your cunt clenched around nothing. He drags the thin straps of your dress down your shoulders with his teeth and hums in approval when you move obediently to pull them off your arms, letting the top half of your dress bunch up around your waist.

His eyes go wide for a second, pupils dilating as he stares at your exposed chest, “You really are a whore—-were you hoping to get some action tonight?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, letting go of your hair in favor of palming one of your breasts, a groan slipping past his lips when he pinches your nipple between his index finger and thumb.

He drags his tongue down in a slick line between your breasts, chuckling lowly when you shiver, fingers trembling as you grasp his shoulders, “It’s real lucky I found you when I did,“ he groans as his other hand moving again between your thighs, middle finger slowly pressing into you as you let your head fall back against the door with an airy whine of his name.

“Holy shit—you’re fucking tight.”

Your cunt tenses around his finger as he pulls back out and then pushes back in a little faster, this time slipping his middle and index finger in. It pulls the air right out of your lungs and you are reminded very suddenly that no other guy had ever actually finger fucked you—until now.

Brian had been right about one thing—most guys you hooked up with were strict followers of the hit it and quit it rule and that usually meant they didn’t focus very hard on anything except getting their dicks inside of you. So foreplay wasn’t really something you were used to—unless of course it involved sucking a guy off.

And now Brian—-of all the people in the world it had to be him—-was quite literally blowing your mind, curling his fingers in your cunt and dragging the most pathetic little noises out of you.

Brian doesn’t even seem fazed, too busy latching onto your tits and fucking you on his fingers. It was like he didn’t even realize that he was shattering your world—or maybe he did notice and he just didn’t care.

“Jesus—look at you—” his voice is low, nearly a growl as he sucks a bruise onto your chest, “You like having my fingers inside you, don’t you princess?”

You nod, “Feels so—ah—fuck—good—”

A third finger slips into your tight heat and you choke on your words, hand flying up to cover your mouth as you toss your head back against the door. Brian hums, thumb circling your clit, “Shit—you act like you’ve never been fingered before—”

You bite your hand, looking away from him and that’s all the answer he needs as he stares up at you with a devilish smirk.

“Oh that’s just cute—“ he chuckles, jerking his wrist suddenly and driving his fingers a little deeper into your cunt, dragging a broken sob from your lips, “No wonder you’re such a needy little thing,”

His pace quickens and with every curl of his fingers you could feel yourself being dragged closer and closer to the edge. You can barely think or speak or do anything except whine helplessly, trembling as you cling to his shoulders. Brian relishes in every little sound you make and every weak roll of your hips only seems to spur him on.

“You can’t cum til you beg for it princess,” he warns, pressing an openmouthed kiss to your jaw, “Even pretty little whores like you have to ask for permission.”

He knows you're close—-so close you can practically taste it. You don’t even try to argue with him—You’re far too focused on the possibility of getting to cum that you can’t be bothered to fight him.

“Ple–please”

“Aw I think you can do a little better than that princess.” he teases, the pad of his thumb circling your clit, making your cunt clench around his fingers.

Distantly you consider telling him to fuck off—the words die on your tongue almost as quick as they came. He looks so smug, tilting his head to one side and smirking as you struggle to speak, words escaping you with every drag of his fingers.

“Please—-please Brian”

“I need it—please”

“Please—I’ll do anything—please—”

His hand stills between your thighs and you have to bite down a frustrated whimper as he grins at you, “Admit that you’re just another cockhungry whore and I’ll let you cum.”

Your breath catches in your throat, “I’m—”

“Go on princess, say it—say ‘I’m a cockhungry whore’” he hums.

“I’m a—I’m a cockhungry—whore.”

“Atta girl” He groans, wasting little time driving his fingers back into your cunt, dragging you right back to the edge—it happens in the blink of an eye and your entire body shakes with the force of your orgasm.

Brian is relentless—he drags your orgasm out until you can barely stand, thighs trembling as you cling desperately to him, choked little whines falling from your lips. He fucks you through every minute of it—-making it nearly impossible for your completely come down from the high.

You fall limp against him, whining pathetically when he keeps toying with your clit and you can hear him laughing through the haze that follows your climax and all you can do is blink stupidly at him. He brings one arm around your waist to keep you steady while the other remains between your thighs.

He coos at you sweetly “What’s the matter princess? That too much for you.”

You nod blearily, “sensitive—”

“We aren’t done yet princess” he hums, dragging his fingers roughly over your clit one more time, chuckling when you let out an airy gasp, “You want my cock don’t you?”

It’s pointless to deny his question—it wouldn’t sound believable even to you.

You take a shaky breath, nodding sheepishly and peering up at him with wide eyes. He groans and pulls you closer, lips crashing roughly against yours. The kiss is short and sloppy, but it still takes the breath out of you like the first kiss had and he chuckles at the way you whine when he pulls away.

He is gentle as he guides you to the bed on the other side of the room, he only teases you once about the way your legs shake as you walk before he helps you sit on the edge of the bed.

You tilt your head up at him watching curiously as he pulls his hoodie off, tossing it carelessly to the ground. He smirks but doesn’t say a word as he unbuckles his belt, working his pants open enough that he can tug them down to his thighs, dragging his boxers with them.

You stare, wide eyed and red cheeked at his cock—he’s big—bigger than any guy you’d ever been with. It’s both terrifying and thrilling.

He raises a brow at you, “What are you waiting for princess, thought you said you were a cock hungry whore?”

You pout, face burning a little hotter, “I only said that because you wouldn’t let me cum otherwise—”

“You��re a shitty liar, ya know that?” he hums, grabbing your hand and guiding it to his cock before you can pull away, “Look at that, look at those pretty hands on my cock.”

You whimper at the feeling of his cock warm and heavy in your hands, the bright pink of your nails contrasting brightly off of his skin.

Brian chuckles at your reaction, hand reaching up to brush stray hairs out of your face, "You were made for this princess— think about what all your little friends would say if they saw you like this—" he traces his thumb over your bottom lip and groans as he bucks his hips forward pushing his cock against the palm of your hand, "What do you think they'd say, hm?"

"I–I–I don't know—"

"Oh but I think you know exactly what they'd say," he clicks his tongue, pressing his thumb down a little harder on your lower lip, forcing your lips to part, "They'll think you're a whore–"

"No–no they—"

He hisses, shaking his head as he pushes his thumb into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue until you fall silent, save for a quiet whimper, as he reaches down with his other hand to guide your hand along his cock, "They already know you're a whore—they probably knew you'd spread your legs for me didn't they?"

You try to shake your head or pull your hand off his dick but he doesn't let you move an inch that he doesn't want you to. Brian smiles, guiding your hand back and forth along the length of his cock. You stare at him and then down between the two of you.

Instinctively you squeeze his cock, a sense of pride rises inside your chest when Brian groans. He presses his thumb back a little farther on your tongue, spit pooling in your mouth and licks his lips as he smirks at you. You squeeze his cock again and after a moment he pulls his hand away from your mouth, grunting as he shoves you back against the mattress.

“You still want my cock princess?”

You nod after a moment, fists curled into the sheets as you stare up at him. He's surprisingly gentle as he traces his hands over your thighs, hiking the skirt of your dress back up around your waist. His fingers slip beneath the waistband of your panties and he taps your hip, beckoning you to lift your bottom half off of the mattress so he can drag the thin fabric down to your ankles.

He shifts a little closer, cock brushing against your thigh and you roll your hips in anticipation. He raises a brow at you, slightly shocked by your movement but he doesn't move to stop you, instead he reaches down between the two of you with one hand to guide his cock against your wet cunt, watching your reaction with a pleased groan when you whimper at him.

Brian presses into you slowly, stretching you with every inch of his cock. He groans, fingers digging into your hips as he bullies his cock deeper. It drags the air from your lungs and forces a string of breathless curses and whines to fall past your lips.

"Fu—fuck—oh fuck—you're so tight—" he hisses, biting his lower lip as he watches every inch of his cock disapear into the tight heat of your cunt. It takes him what feels like ages to bottom out, cock hitting the deepest parts of you until you swear you can feel him in your belly.

Mercifully he stops moving, seemingly just as overwhelmed as you by the feeling of you clenching around him. His mercy lasts for scarcely a minute before he rolls his hips and drags his cock out a few inches before driving it right back in with a low groan.

You choke, trembling hands reaching up to grasp at his t shirt, "bri—brian—fuck"

"It's alright princess—fuck you were made for this—" hums, leaning forward, one hand gripping your hip while the other reaches up to hold your face. You whimper as he pulls his hips back until only the tip of his cock remains.

“Brian—bri—wait—”

He slams back into you forcing a choked sound from the back of your throat, “fuck—you—-how—how are you so fucking tight?” he starts thrusting slow and hard, gripping your hips as his pace quickens.

“Bri—”

One hand drags up from your hip to tangle into your hair, forcing you to look up at him, “What is it pretty girl—”

A whimper spills from your lips and you reach for him, unsure if you’re trying to push him away or pull him closer, “bri—brian—please—-you’re—-you’re too big—-slo—slow down”

He laughs, driving his cock into you a little harder, “You think I’d believe that I’m bigger than those fucking jocks you spread your legs for?”

You tremble under him,”Please—bri—-please—I’m serious—-fuck—”

“Oh thats real fucking cute—” he grins, tugging on your hair and groaning when your cunt clenches around him, “Don’t you worry princess—I told you I’d take care of you.”

He reminds you again that he has no intention of being nice or gentle with you as he fucks you just as relentlessly as he had when he had you cumming on his fingers. You barely even register the fact that he’s not wearing a condom—-you hate that your cunt flutters at the thought of him filling you with his cum.

And yet you beg him for more. Clinging desperately to him and sobbing with every bruising thrust of his cock. He grips your hip and holds you in place as he sets a brutal pace fucking you—-tearing you apart and then putting you back together with every drag of his cock—-

You’re ruined for anyone else—-you can’t even deny that at this point—-though you obviously weren’t about to admit that outright to him—-especially not when he’s still in the process of ruining you.

It doesn’t even take long for him to send you headfirst into another orgasm-—-it’s sort of terrifying how easily he brings you to the edge—-normally you were lucky to be able to orgasm even once—-

The only warning you get is the string of curses that spill from his lips and the jerk of his hips as he drives his cock into you as deep as it will go—your cunt flutters again and he spills into you saying your name all soft and pretty like a prayer.

He falls with you and your vision blurs—time slows and all you can feel is Brian—he surrounds you—consumes you—you drown in him.

His pace remains just as relentless and unforgiving even as he fucks you through your second orgasm and all you can do is cling to him. He curls over you, dragging your hips against his and mouthing at your neck, sucking a few more bruises along the way, choking on a whine every time he feels you squeeze around him.

“Fuck––Bri—Brian” you babble as his thumb grazes back over your oversensitive clit.

He shifts, pressing a few lazy kisses up your buck and along your jaw and then drags you into a sloppy kiss. He pulls out, smirking into the kiss as you whimper at the loss of his cock, cum already beginning to drip out of your cunt.

He rolls over, laying down beside you on the mattress. You come down from the high slowly, and even then you feel like you're stuck in a fog. You feel good—perfect actually—perfect and full and warm—

Without thinking you shift a little closer to him, curling against his side with a content sigh. At first he leans into it, arm curling around your side, hand tracing over your hip.

His laugh startles you,"I didn't expect you to be so clingy afterwards"

In an instant you pull away from him, dragging yourself up off the bed with a huff, "Fuck you Brian—"

He laughs again, leaning up on his elbows to look at you with a smirk, "Pretty sure I did fuck you already princess," he pauses, eyes dragging down between your thighs, "unless that's someone elses cum dripping from your cunt—"

"Fuck off." You hiss, pulling the end of your dress down and glancing around in search of your panties.

"You looking for something pretty girl—"

You turn to him as he shifts towards the end of the bed, tugging his pants up and giving you a smug grin. You narrow your eyes at him as he reaches his hand into pocket and lifts your lacy blue panties up in front of you.

"Give them back."

He thinks for a moment and then shrugs, "No I don't think I will,"

"Brian—"

"Nope" he hums, shoving the panties back into his pocket, "I think I'll keep em as a souvenir"

You curse under your breath, preparing to argue further until he gets up off the bed, taking a step towards you, tilting his head at you, " —maybe i'll give em back to you next time"

You bite your lip, stepping backwards and shaking your head, "We can't do this again—"

Brian raises a brow, “Who says?”

You fidget with the hem of your dress, pulling down a bit farther to cover your thighs—-you really wish you hadn’t gone with such a short dress—it was doing very little to hide the slick coating of your inner thighs.

You shrug after a moment, “We just can’t—-this was fun and all but—”

“Oh it was fun was it—”

“Well—I mean—”

He laughs—another step forward—-and another two backwards until you reach the door—- “You admitting you had fun with little old me? I’m flattered truly—-and I’ll be honest you’re a better fuck than I thought.”

You turn the lock and grip the door handle—-glancing at him with a frown before opening the door slightly—- “Let’s just agree to never discuss this okay?”

He looks at you for a moment, and then shrugs, leaning down to swipe his jacket up off the ground, “If that’s what you want then that’s fine by me,” he pauses as if considering his next words carefully—though you know for a fact he rarely ever thinks very clearly about any choice he’s ever made—- “Wouldn’t want your friends to find out what a little whore you are would you?”

In an instant you spin on your heels, just barely catching yourself as you pull the door open enough to slip through, losing yourself in the hordes of teenagers moving through the house—-as you pull the door shut behind you, you catch another glimpse of Brian, winking as he pulls a lighter and a fresh cigarette from his pocket—-

You left the party early—-mercifully you didn’t run into any of your friends—-though you did catch Max’s eye as you slipped past an incredibly stoned classmate—-you imagined you would be hearing from Maddy or Kirsten later on—-probably Kirstem, these days it seemed like getting on your ass was what brought her the most joy.

That wasn’t your biggest priority though if you were honest—-you really should not have fucked Brian fucking Wilcox.

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