soapier

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ik no ones gonna see this but how fucked up would it be of i wrote a jet neptune fic. is that so deeply and terribly wrong and evil of me.

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“i wouldn’t do that” “i wouldn’t say that” “i wouldn’t wear that” “i wouldn’t kiss them” too bad you pedantic dorks, you’re not the one in control here.

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i dont think anyone will even rly see this but i just wanna apologize for my inactivity!! i have the most severe writers block rn, and i’m currently floating in post-graduation oblivion, so i’m feeling kind of aimless at the moment, physically and creatively. i have a bunch of half-written drafts, but i have no clue where to go with them :/ idk i just wanted to let yall know i havent abandoned my blog

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[soapier]

faith

yumi x f!oc

001. mother mary

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blake was was leaning against the splintering siding of new bethlehem community church and smoking a cigarette when he first heard her voice.

“can i hit that?”

a girl roughly his age stood beside him, the picture of innocence. it was her big brown eyes that caught his attention first, then the blonde hair, and lastly the pretty white dress that showed just the slightest hint of cleavage. if he were an honest man, though, he would have to admit that it was her chest that held his attention the longest.

he shrugged, saying, “yeah, sure, if you want,” before handing the cigarette off to her, eyes finally leaving the neckline of her dress. he looked at her intensely, as if trying to figure something out, trying to read her face.

“thanks,” the girl said softly, bringing it to her lips. “are you here for youth group?”

blake could’ve sworn her eyes were sparkling in the floodlights of the parking lot.

he shook his head, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans before telling her that his mom forced him to come, dropped him off.

“she thinks it’ll make a better person out of me.”

the girl, cigarette still dangling between two dainty fingers, just shrugs, “might. might not.”

she inhales one more time before passing it back to him with a soft “thanks.”

blake looks at her, the same intense look in his eyes, “and what brings you here? don’t just say ‘the word of god’, or whatever.”

“i’m in youth group,” the girl tells him, “bible study.”

his only response is a hum as he brings the cigarette back to his lips, “you enjoy this? spending your sunday night listening to some priest droning on and on and on about god knows what?” he scoffs quietly, mostly to himself.

the girl shrugs again, the white fabric of her dress twirling around her knees as she does so, “i like father dave’s takes on the new testament.”

blake reacts with a snort, not believing the words out of this girl’s mouth. with a smirk on his face he asks, “you’re listening to an old man yap about a book he didn’t even write?”

he takes a step closer to the girl, towering above her.

“you know that guy’s not any better than me or you, right?” his voice had a teasing tone to it, but his eyes held that same serious, searching look. he took one final drag of the cigarette before putting it out against the church’s weathered siding, dropping the butt on the old pavement.

the girl meets his gaze, meek but unflinching, “of course he’s not. we’re no better than each other.”

blake’s smug smirk spreads into some semblance of a smile, “now there’s something we can agree on.”

he looks her up and down for a moment before adding, “you don’t look familiar. you’re from around here? you seem way too sweet for a place like this.”

“i’m from here, grew up here… few blocks over, actually,” she says, sitting on the rickety, wooden back stairs of the church, battered and annotated bible rested across her knees, “and what do you mean, ‘too sweet’?”

“just look at you,” blake says, sitting beside her, knees touching. “you look like a textbook example of the type of girl that old man in there likes to preach about, but i can’t imagine anyone that good coming from this town.”

she looks at him, a little puzzled, but still holding a soft smile on her lips, “thanks, uh… i think.”

he lets out a small laugh and takes a moment to soak in her face, noticing her freckles and pink lips, “it was supposed to be a compliment, yeah.”

“i’m tatum,” the girl says softly, introducing herself.

blake looks genuinely suprised for a moment when she introduces herself, not expecting it, and smiles again,

“blake.”

his eyes move down from her face, to her neck, to the dainty gold necklace adorning it. he lets his eyes hover over it, managing to discern a small virgin mary medallion sitting proudly just above her chest.

“well it’s nice to meet you, blake,” tatum says brightly, unphased.

“sure is,” he replies, eyes still trained on the necklace. “why’d you decide to talk to me tonight? can’t you see i’m some no-good asshole who’s not worth your time?” his voice says that he’s teasing again, but his eyes betray him, hinting that he might believe some of what he’s saying.

tatum shrugs once more, answering honestly, “wanted a cig.”

blake can’t help but laugh at her bluntness, tilting his head to get another look at her, “and you’re being honest about it, damn. most girls i know would just deny it and leave.”

he runs a hand through his already messy brown hair, still smiling.

“why would i lie?” she asks, “especially at church.”

he looks almost impressed for a moment, eyebrows raised, “that’s a good point.” his eyes land back on the golden mary medallion, and he takes a sharp breath in, “can i ask you something?”

“sure,” tatum says casually.

blake hesitates for a moment before speaking, “you have this whole innocent, nice good girl thing going on…”

he lifts a hand, gently lifting the mary necklace from her chest, “with a virgin mary necklace and all.”

“yeah…” the girl says, anticipating his question.

“are you a good girl?” he asks, fingers still gently playing with the necklace, running the pad of this thumb along the engravings.

tatum meets his gaze through her glasses, “i try to be.”

“you said try,” blake notes, smirking. “is it really that hard to stay good?”

“not necessarily,” she says, “but temptation is everywhere. even jesus faced temptation in the desert.”

his smirk only grew wider as she spoke, “and he overcame it with the power of god, right?”

tatum nods as blake continues to toy with the dainty necklace, “of course. he called upon the father for strength.”

he hums in response, shifting a little closer on the steps, “and would you do the same?”

“i do,” she smiles, “i pray to the holy mother a lot for her intercession, or even her guidance. it helps, i think, though i don’t know if mary ever got to smoke a marb red.”

blake snorts out a laugh, smirk turning into a genuine smile.

“and what would dear ol’ mary say if she found out that you were talking to some delinquent at the back of the church?” he asks, fingers still tracing the thin gold chain. his eyes dip down to her chest again, not very subtly.

“i can’t speak for her,” tatum tells him, catching his gaze as he looks up once more, “but i think she’d want me to invite you inside,” she smiles warmly.

blake looks at her incredulously, almost amused, asking, “she would want you to invite some random, smoking, no-good asshole into the house of god, huh?”

“of course,” she says in full earnesty, “god has an open-door policy.”

he’s taken aback for a moment, needing to regain his composure so that he doesn’t laugh in this sweet girl’s face.

“you’re being serious, aren’t you? you’re too pure,” he scolds, smirk once again crossing his face. “you’re either the purest soul on earth, or straight up the most manipulative girl i’ve ever met.”

tatum does her best not to look offended, though acting’s never been her strong suit.

“i promise i’m not manipulating you,” she says with a smile. “i wouldn’t force you to come inside, that’s something you have to do of your own free will. it’s why we have it, y’know — free will, i mean.”

blake stands there a moment, quiet. the smirk fades from his lips, his face turning almost solemn.

“and, y’know, why do you keep talking to me, tatum? you’re sticking around despite seeing that i’m using my free will to choose all the wrong things.”

she shrugs again, “you seem like you need someone to talk to. besides, you had a cig, and i needed one.”

his smirk returns, but this time more relaxed, almost casual, playful, even.

“i always need someone to talk to, especially if they’re as… interesting… as you,” he laughs wryly. “i can’t believe you smoke.”

“listen,” tatum starts, running a hand through her hair. “i know we’re all brothers and sisters in christ, yes, but… that natalie in there?” she turns to look at blake, a small laugh passing her lips. “sometime’s i’d prefer to consider her more of a distant cousin.”

blake laughs again, louder, more genuine, “she’s really that bad, huh? you’re a curious one, tatum.”

with a smile, she stands, saying, “i have to get to walking home; i have class and work tomorrow. but it really was nice to meet you, blake. i hope you come inside next time.”

she walks a few steps, adding, “and if your mom asks, we talked about the book of james tonight. a lot of good stuff in there — lotta focus on bringing action to faith and living by god’s love!”

blake watches carefully as she walks off across the parking lot, presumably towards her house before calling out, “it was nice to meet you too, tatum!”

as she turns around to wave, a smile on her face, he adds, “tons of good stuff, huh? i’ll have to come next time, then.”

“you should,” she says, grinning.

blake hums and takes a few steps towards her, “you’re really something, you know that?” he lets his eyes drag over her body, taking in every detail that he could despite the modest dress. he notices the goosebumps on her arms, too, and finds himself shrugging off the black zip-up hoodie that he’s wearing before he can even think twice about it.

“just take this, you’re freezing,” he says, draping it over her shoulders.

she smiles, pulling it tight around her, “does this mean you’ll come next week, to get it back?” blake could still pick out the blush on her cheeks despite the darkness of the parking lot.

he smiles, “seems like a pretty good excuse to see you again, tatum.”

[soapier]

faith

yumi x f!oc

000. babe wake up new fic just dropped

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home from college for the summer, blake’s been doing nothing but getting into trouble and fighting with his parents. smoking, fighting, and finally getting detained for a bar fight last weekend, his already troubled family doesn’t know what to do with him. as a last ditch effort to straighten him out, blake’s mom drops him off outside the local church to attend a bible study session, but he never makes it inside.

that’s when he meets tatum.

the definition of a small town girl, tatum’s life consists of community college, a job at a dying local coffee shop, and church. the youngest daughter in an overly-traditional midwest family, her freedoms are limited, and she’s spent her whole life inside of this “good girl” mold that everyone around her created on her behalf. when she meets blake on the back steps of the church, however, he shows her a completely new path.

will tatum make blake’s life better? or will he make her’s worse?

warnings: christianity, the virgin mary, smoking, small towns, suburbia, drinking, violence

[soapier]

big talk || schlatt

schlatt x f!oc

ted finally tells his friend schlatt about his little sister.

part 001

(old draft from january to keep yall fed til i graduate college)

“bro, do not ever interact with my sister,” ted sighed, resting his head in his hands. schlatt had been on a minutes-long tangent since discovering, after more than five years knowing one another, ted had a little sister.

he’d only said something since he was recording from his parents’ house, in town for our cousin’s wedding.

tucker was making fun of him for not knowing, having become rather familiar with his younger sibling over their nearly two decades of friendship.

“i just can’t believe you never told me!” schlatt was clearly very upset, and to be fair, he kind of had a right to be.

ted sighed, “you know what? fine.”

taking off his headphones, he called out from the other room, “weezy!”

“what?” i yelled back from across the hall, annoyed that he was interrupting my work on the essay i had due at 11:59.

“c’mere!” was all he said. with a sigh, i pushed myself off of my bed and stalked into his childhood bedroom, crossing my arms with an expectant look on my face.

he unplugged his headphones, allowing his friends’ conversation to be heard full blast.

“oh, is that tucker? hi tucker!” i didn’t move from my spot, hearing a distinct second voice in the call.

“who the fuck is that? is that your sister? what the fuck, ted?”

i watched my brother stand from his desk chair, grabbing an old red sox sweatshirt from his bed, and snatching some sunglasses off of a nearby shelf.

“put these on, my friend schlatt wants to meet you.”

i did as told, laughing as i asked why ted was making me go “incognito” to meet the guy he’d been friends with for years.

“because i don’t wanna hear it,” he sighed.

“hear what?” his friend yelled through the screen, “you think i don’t know how to treat a lady?”

things began to click in my mind as i assumed the impromptu disguise.

ted sat back down and gestured for me to join him in front of the camera.

grabbing an old camping chair leaned against his closet door, i set it up beside him before sitting down to face his screen.

“hey ‘weez” tucker said, his smile familiar after all these years.

“hey tucker,” i greeted back with a grin.

the third guy in their call, the one with sideburns and dark eyes, was nearly red in the face at this point.

he leaned into his mic, “your name… is weezy?”

puzzled, i confirmed.

“what the fuck kind of name is that?”

“big talk for a guy who didn’t tell ted his real name for, what was it, two years? its short for louise, moron.”

his voice was gruff, “oh you are just like your brother. worse, even,” his eyes bored into me. “at least i did a face reveal.”

i felt my face grow hot behind the sunglasses, while ted argued back with his friend.

“i made her put them on,” he glanced over at me, positively drowning in the hoodie i was told to don. the height genetics apparently skipped me. “a, she doesn’t want her face online, and b, i don’t need you to be blowing up her dm’s, thank you very much.”

i watched as his friend, schlatt, looked down for a moment before my own phone buzzed.

on my screen, a follow request from his account.

i held it up to my brother giggling as he clearly grew cross.

“schlatt, what did i say? do not, ever, interact with my little sister. and what did you do?”

“well she accepted the request,” if there was anything i liked to do, its fuck with my brother.

ted looked over, betrayed. “weezy, how could you?”

“i have an essay to write,” i shot him a shit-eating grin. “bye, tuck. bye, big guy.”

“she wants it! she wants me to-” was all i heard from ted’s computer before he plugged his headphones back in.

i took off the sunglasses and hoodie, hurling the latter at my brother’s head before leaving the room with a middle finger in his direction.

before i could resume working on my essay, i get two quick instagram notifications; one, schlatt liking the pictures i’d posted from my cousin’s wedding, the other being a dm that simply read “you should come down to ny with ted tomorrow”

[soapier]

Hey, do you have any plans to update your Sapnap story? I really love it. And it's really hard to find fics of him!

like probably i’m just in my last semester of college rn so its tought to find time ngl (also i only rly write when i’ve been off my meds for a grip 😭😭 i dont know the connection there but its been consistent since i was on wattpad)

[soapier]

could be anything ˙⋆✮˚

sapnap x female!oc

004. birthday girl

000, 001, 002, 003

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shane

it was saturday, the day of my birthday party.

with schlatt at his convention, it was up to me to decorate the apartment, with his only contribution being the giant cutout of my face, which he was apparently not lying about.

i eyed my large head suspiciously, stepping up on a chair to hang some streamers when my phone buzzed.

schlatty:

guess what

what

i’m with ur boyfriend rn

i’ll shoot myself

besides he hasnt texted me since i invited him

i waited a minute for a response, until it was rather apparent that i wasn't getting one.

music playing softly, i flitted about our small apartment, decorating until the timer for my frozen pizza went off, signalling that i needed to eat and get ready, with only two hours until people are supposed to show up.

slice of paper-thin cardboard pizza in hand, i went to examine the outfit i'd carefully laid out on my bed earlier, as if i was anticipating sixth-grade picture day.

it was a sequin top and basic black mini skirt, with boots sat on the floor right underneath. it was the outfit that finally broke schlatt's litany of 'eh' and 'you could do better's as i held him hostage for a fashion show the day prior, though i think he just wanted me to pick one and let him go to bed.

i changed and did my makeup, having woken up on a rare 'good curl day' and not wanting to anger the hair gods by risking a shower. the front door opened and closed, signalling schlatt's arrival.

"what do we think?" i called out, making a dramatic enterance into the living room.

to my surprise, he'd brought ted and tucker with him straight from the convention, and thus i extended the question to them as well.

"you look good!" ted smiled, giving me a greeting hug. tucker did much the same as schlatt gave me a simple once-over and shrug, just commenting that i "could be sluttier."

i rolled my eyes. "hey, could one of you hang up these lights? i couldn’t reach.” ted nodded, taking care of the one task that i couldn’t complete alone.

the boys each changed and got settled onto the couch, awaiting the arrival of their friends.

˙⋆✮˚

it was eleven, nearly two hours after the party started, and by then i had recieved many half-slurred ‘happy birthday’s from strangers in my home.

i stared at the door, hoping, praying that nick, who had apparently told schlatt that he was excited for tonight, would walk in soon. despite my many desperate glances, nothing happened.

i grumbled and excused myself from a conversation with my coworkers, who were discussing the new hostess’ ass, to go smoke on the fire escape.

clambering over my bed, i slid open the window, taking in the cool air as i sat on the metal grates. bringing the lighter to the tip of the cigarette that dangled between my lips.

inhaling, i heard a knock on the window above my head.

“hey,” i heard a man say softly. looking up, my eyes met the green ones that had made me immediately call out ‘smash’ a week earlier. “someone told me i could find you out here.”

“hi,” i smiled, scooting over to make room on the cramped pseudo-balcony. “didn’t think you were gonna make it.”

my hand instinctively flew to my mouth. “no! oh my god, not like that, i didn’t mean to be a bitch—”

his laugh cut me off, “no, don’t worry.” he awkwardly climbed through my window, something seemingly difficult with his height. not that i’d complain about him being tall.

“i didn’t realize it was your birthday,” he smiled, settling next to me.

i looked up to meet his gaze, “well, technically not for another…” i checked the time on my phone, “twenty-six minutes. and besides, the party’s more for schlatt than me. besides him, i know, like, four people here.”

“five now,” he corrected. “shane, right?”

“yeah. its nice to meet you,” i grinned, tipsy and rather enjoying the body heat he was letting off, considering i hadn’t bothered to grab a jacket on my mission.

i offered him my half-burnt cig. “you want?”

“nah,” he waved me off.

deciding i was done with it, i put it out on the railing and flicked it into the oblivion below.

nick noticed my shivering, “cold?” i nodded, and he slung an arm around me. “this okay?”

nodding again, i shuffled into his hoodie-clad side.

“how was the convention?”

he told me about getting to meet up with some of his creator friends, and almost losing someone named clay to a mob of fans.

“shit, i didn’t realize it was like… that deep.” i laughed, “sorry, didn’t mean to… not like that… i’m gonna stop talking now.”

“its okay, i know you’re, like, disconnected from the modern world,” he paused wetting his lips, “people get a little out of hand when they see you in the flesh.”

“that makes sense. i kinda just wrote you off as one of schlatts little computer people.”

he laughed, eyes glinting in the city lights, but before he could respond he was interrupted by tucker’s voice. “hey, uh, shane? it’s almost midnight, schlatt wanted me to grab you to blow out your candles.”

i nodded, standing. “ladies first,” sapnap said, awkwardly trying to shuffle out of the way. i climbed back in, trying desperately to pull my skirt into a less revealing state. nick came in after, tumbling awkwardly onto my bed.

“shall we?” i asked, leading nick back into the kitchen. he followed closely as i saw schlatt struggling to place colorful, twisted candles in between the cake’s decorations.

it was small and crudely frosted, my roommate having topped it with tiny plastic dinosaurs of every color.

“aw, schlatt,” i pulled him into a hug, “i love dinos!”

“i know, kiddo. now fuck off so i can light these.” he brushed me off, hands fiddling with a stem lighter.

the time on the clock read 11:59 as someone paused the music. i perched myself on the counter, nick lingering nearby.

as schlatt presented the lit cake, the drunken strangers in our home began the ‘happy birthday’ song, faltering when it came time to say ‘shane’, many of them likely not sure of my name. it made me giggle, and i felt the heat of the candles illuminating my face.

finally, i blew out the flames, silently wishing to feel less awkward with nick’s gaze aimed at me. this elicited a cheer from the crowd, and the music resumed as schlatt began to cut up the cake.

knowing that there wouldn’t be nearly enough to go around, i made my way to my roommate, asking for another slice once he handed me my own. “okay fatass,” he joked, before realizing who the second slice was for. “aw, you little simp,” he playfully pushed my shoulder, handing over a second paper plate.

“thanks, asshole,” i grinned, kissing his cheek as a ‘thank you’ and making my way over to the man i had less-than-demurely hit on less than a week ago.

“aw, thanks,” he ducked his head, trying to hide the grin on his face, “how old did you turn?”

i faltered, feeling his big hands graze mine as he took the plate from my hands. “twenty—uh—twenty two.” i took a big sip of my drink, a rather heavily-poured vodka redbull, trying to hide the embarrassment that was elicited by the brief contact.

we traded little ‘getting to know you’ questions, with jokes dispersed in between, making me laugh just a little too hard each time. as we chatted the party began to wane, until it was just myself, nick, and the two friends he had brought along.

“hey, uh, sap, it’s late, we should really get going.” one of them spoke, clasping a hand on his shoulder. he nodded, then moved to introduce his company.

“shane! this is dream—clay, the one you called bland, and our friend george,” the two shook my hand, smiling politely. “you passed on the both of us,” the one with a british accent — george — teased, causing a blush, something i had been sporting nearly the entire time i was chatting with nick.

“yeah, uh, sorry about that,” i smiled sheepishly.

“it’s no worries,” clay smiled, “and happy birthday, it was nice to meet you.”

i smiled and thanked them, watching the three approach schlatt and i’s front door. as they were about to leave, they paused, looking like they were game-planning something before nick turned back.

“hey shane, um,” he took off his hat, running a nervous hand through his hair. “dream’s manager had to fly back early for something, and we, uh, have an extra guest pass for the convention, if you’d, uh, if you’d like to join for some ‘behind the scenes’ stuff tomorrow? or, well, today, i guess.”

i paused, thinking. i’d had someone cover my shift, knowing i’d be hungover, and the bookstore isn’t open sundays. theoretically, i could go…

i must have taken too long to answer, because he spoke again, “sorry, uh, that’s probably weird, right? don’t feel like you have—”

“no!” i interjected. “sounds fun,” i smiled up on him, seeing the anxiety on his face. “i can come?” i told him, though it came across more as a question.

relief spread across his features, toothy smile reappearing. “great! uh, text me your email, i’ll forward it to you. and let me know when you’re heading over, i’ll text you where you can check in, and, um, i’ll meet you there?”

i grinned up at him, “for sure.”

with that, he gave me a quick hug, hands lingering on my lower back for a moment, before rejoining his friends and leaving, presumably back to their hotel rooms. i locked the front door and took care of any lights before sending over my email address, the pass in my inbox before my head could even hit the pillow.

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little bit of a longer chapter, sorry if it came across awkward at times. idk man. lmk what u think.

[soapier]

could be anything ˙⋆✮˚

sapnap x female!oc

003. shane needs to learn to shut up

000, 001, 002, 004

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shane

i read the messages, then reread them to make sure i’m not crazy.

nick (sapnap):

don’t worry about it

thought it was funny

blushing, i silently thank god, or whoever’s out there, that he can’t see my face right now.

i text back a simple “okay cool” before going back to my hair and mental to-do list. my birthday is next week, and since it falls on the same week as some gamer convention that a bunch of schlatt’s friends are coming to nyc for, he suggested we host a birthday party.

i’d agreed, even though i knew i wouldn’t know mostly anyone at my own celebration. hell, the only people i’d invited myself were ted, his buddy tucker, and a couple of line cooks from one of my jobs. it was fine, though, because if there’s anything i like, it’s a house party.

but still, before work today i needed to grab some decorations (schlatt insisted, the big softy), and cake mix, though my roommate told me that he was in charge of baking and decorating it. i cringed at the thought of the disastrous state he left our tiny kitchen in the last time he’d tried to bake. cook, he can do, but bake? eugh.

my phone buzzed again.

nick (sapnap):

hey also, if you’re free at all next week, i’ll be in town for the convention

we can grab a drink or coffee or something

i ran over to schlatt in the living room, shoving my phone far too close to his face.

“whatdoisaywhatdoisaywhatdoisay?” the words came out as one, with a final, “shit!” hissed at the end.

he laughed, knowing my inexperience with the male gender. “i don’t know, shane, what about ‘yes’?”

“but what if he thinks i’m weird?” i whine.

“i’m sure he already does,” he shot me a smug grin.

i groaned, “i need to learn to shut the fuck up for once in my life.”

this earned only a hum of agreeance from schlatt.

“look, doll,” schlatt sat up a bit, “if you don’t want the pressure of talking to him, like, alone,” he rolled his eyes, “just invite him to the party saturday.”

i nodded, eyes wide. “do i have to tell him it’s my birthday party?”

my question earned a scoff, “he’ll probably figure it out pretty quick, considering the fact that i ordered a giant cardboard cutout of your face—”

“you did fucking what?”

“let me finish,” he commanded as i stood slack-jawed in front of him. “but he’d probably know more people there than you, so it’d be less awkward than meeting one-on-one.”

“ever the sage, you are,” i commented, only half-mocking him. “i’ll do that.”

i unlocked my phone, typing out an invite.

nick (sapnap):

that sounds good! or if u want, schlatt’s having a party at ours saturday night

ur more than welcome to join! it’ll be mostly internet people, u can bring friends !!!

i braced myself and hit send, having conveniently left out the fact that it was for my birthday. the party is hardly for me, i think schlatt just wanted an excuse to be social.

i got another notification, far more quickly than i was prepared for.

nick (sapnap):

dope. i’ll be there

i think george mentioned smth about schlatt and a party, anyway

god, so i didn’t even need to put myself through the anxiety of inviting him? fuck my life.

i typed out our address and told him that the party starts at 9:30, but he could ‘like, totally show up whenevs!’

i feel pathetic.

i grabbed my bag, letting schlatt know that nick was coming and that i might, in fact, kill myself before i had the chance to turn twenty-two.

“not on the carpet, please!” he called back as i headed out to run my errands and go to work.

—

might start making lil moodboards for the chapters what do we think? also pls lmk what u think of the story so far !

[soapier]

Please remember your favorite writers are attention whores with a praise kink, they need validation to survive. Feed them comments and reblogs to save a life.

[soapier]

could be anything ˙⋆✮˚

sapnap x female!oc

002. why does the coffee maker have googly eyes?

000, 001, 003, 004

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shane

"i fuckin' hate you," my roommate grumbled, grabbing the pot from under our mr. coffee. "why does the coffee maker have googly eyes?"

i grinned, "found 'em in my desk."

schlatt sighed, pouring himself a mug. "your little stunt from last night is all over twitter, just so you know."

i looked at him, confused.

he sighed, clarifying, "you and sapnap. my mentions are clogged up with your bullshit thirsting."

i giggled, "shooters gotta shoot."

he fiddled with his phone, "not to mention, this," he showed me his screen, with the streamer i hit on's twitter pulled up. his most recent tweet just read 'someone find me this woman', with a screenshot of me from the stream attached.

my face flushed. "i didn't think he'd see it..."

"you're a moron," schlatt scoffed. "you thought eight thousand people would keep a secret?"

i groaned, "i don't think of them as real people, schlatt. they're just your little computer friends to me," my head buried in my hands, i heard my roommate sip from his mug.

"well, good luck digging yourself out of this one," i felt his eyes on me from across the table. "he dm'd me and asked for your instagram."

i put my head on the table, "but i don't have instagram."

"i told him that," i heard him snicker at my misery. "i offered him your number."

i groaned, loud. "why would you do that? do you hate me?" i paused, holding a finger up to silence any coming comments, "don't answer that. what'd he say?"

"hasn't responded," schlatt chimed. "do you want me to send it to him if he asks?"

face still flush with the counter, i grumbled out an "i don't fuckin' know." raising my head back up, i asked what my roommate thought.

"is he... nice? would i want him to have it?" being disconnected from social media, i have no gauge for anyone's character.

schlatt paused, thinking. though he's a complete dick, he's still my best friend, has been for twelve years. he likes to tease but he wouldn't let me get hurt intentionally.

"yeah, i think so. you could always just block him if you don't like him."

i nodded, "okay, then. if he wants it, you can pass my number along, i guess. if you think that it would be okay."

i was met with a simple hum in response as i pulled out my phone, deleting twitter. i'm all set on social media for the next month.

we made small talk as we drank our coffee, our little morning ritual. he asked how my classes and work were going, and i asked how his engagement was looking, having learned over the past years that viewership is an important facet of streaming.

mug sufficiently drained, i placed it in the sink, asking if he needed the bathroom before my shower. i needed to feel clean; yesterday's mascara, bad decision, and dried beer still stuck to my skin.

the hot water soothed my back, sore from being on my feet the whole day prior. today i only had one job to go to, waitressing, sunday's being my "off" days from the bookstore. i continued to shower, taking a mental note of the errands i needed to run before my shift, reminding myself to ask schlatt if he needs anything while i'm out.

i stepped out, wrapping myself in a robe, towel turban atop my head. schlatt caught my attention on the quick journey from the bathroom to my bedroom, only saying, "sent it to him."

face again flushed, embarrassed by my tipsy, tired boldness from the previous night, i went about getting ready for my day, when my phone buzzed.

i paled, swallowing hard. what if it's him?

i crept over to my phone, almost afraid of it. i saw two notifications on my lock screen, which was just a picture of jambo and i napping together, something schlatt took months ago. i had two texts from an unsaved number, a texas area code preceding it.

509-9112:

hey, this is nick

schlatt sent me your number

i gaped, deciding to ignore the messages for now. fuck, what have i gotten myself into? this is why i stay offline.

i hurry through my getting ready routine, humming along to schlatts music, barely muffled by our thin walls. finally feeling brave enough, i grabbed my phone and saved his contact, debating on what to say back.

finally, i decided on an apology.

nick (sapnap):

omg i am so sorry about what i said last night

that was weird of me i apologize

i watched as the typing bubbles popped up and disappeared repeatedly, anxiously anticipating his response.

nick (sapnap):

•°.

°.•

finally, he responded.

[soapier]

could be anything ˙⋆✮˚

sapnap x female!oc

001. shane gets bold

000, 002, 003, 004

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shane

i settled into the chair schlatt had drawn up next to his own, beer in hand and wrapped in a blanket. i looked like shit — mascara flaking from a long shift and hair in a messy ponytail, only joining because i owed my roommate a favor due to being late on the electric bill this month.

schlatt explained the game to his viewers — "the little people in his computer" as i often called them — telling them that he was having me play smash or pass with different streamers and youtubers, given that i had not a single clue who any of them were.

i smiled as his chat reacted to my presence, shocked i wasn't yelling at him for once. "in my defense," i said, addressing one of the comments, "he's a god awful roommate. i wouldn't wish him on my worst enemy."

"bitch," he mumbled, pushing my head playfully. "let's get started."

i laughed as he pulled a title slide onto his screen, "motherfucker did you make a powerpoint?"

he grinned, taking a sip straight from the bottle of whiskey he'd plucked from our kitchen. "you know it, sweetheart."

"you didn't try this hard at anything in highschool, but you do this for me to play 'smash or pass' with your little computer friends?" i point out the ridiculousness of his actions, as well as his former academic laziness.

"whatever. first one!" he gave a little drumroll before clicking.

"ted? i know ted, schlatt. the man has slept on our couch!" i burst out laughing. "anyway... smash!" jokingly, i hold up my hand as a fake phone to my ear, mouthing 'call me', knowing our friend would get a kick out of it, and that schlatt appreciates when i can get what he calls "clips."

he scoffs, "fucking freak. weirdo. next," he clicks again, the screen now showing an average guy in dire need of a haircut.

"can i be mean?" i ask, drinking and turning to him for permission.

"of course," he grins, bracing for what might come out of my mouth. he knows how much of a bitch i can be off-camera.

i giggle, "that is god's blandest man. he looks like his name is 'unidentified white male.'"

i snort, being my own target audience.

"unidentified? unidentified? bitch, that's dream!" he yells. "how do you not know dream?"

i watch as comments fly past his monitor, too fast to read. i shrug, making a vague 'i dunno' noise before clarifying that i'd pass on him.

i adjusted the hoodie i wore, probably schlatt's, and pushed a blonde curl out of my face.

"next?" i demand, impatient. he clicks, and i study the next man for a moment before again declaring "pass."

this cycle repeats a couple more times, each time schlatt and his little computer people getting more and more irate at my cluelessness towards the supposed internet celebrities.

he clicks again, and an alternatively dressed girl graces the screen. i compliment her makeup, commenting that i think she's pretty, and that she "makes me wish i liked women."

he laughs, "you're missing out on a lot."

"like you get laid," i scoff. "hypothetical smash."

he screeches and calls me a bitch again, threatening to smother me in my sleep.

"okay, big guy, calm down," i ease, "who's next."

i grin, turning away to grab another beer while he clicks to the next streamer. i look at him for half a second before nearly yelling, "oh, shit! smash."

i take a few sips, then ask who he is.

"don't be such a slut, shane," he chides me.

i blush, "god, you're annoyed when i don't care about your internet people, you're annoyed when i do! pick one!" taking another sip, i quickly add, "no but seriously who is that, i need him, noowww."

he sighs, telling me, "sapnap."

"what the fuck kind of name is that?" i snort. "who names their kid that?"

"its a screen name, moron. like your twitter handle? think that," he droned, explaining what was likely the most basic concept in social media.

"does he have a real name?" i smile coyly, knowing i was torturing schlatt.

i lean close to the camera to read his chat, "nick," i say to myself, "hmm."

my roommate rolled his eyes, clicking to the next streamer as i opened my phone to twitter, the only social media i have.

i typed in 'sapnap' to the search bar, trying to pull up his account. i study the scruffy man, his dark hair, green-ish eyes, shit-eating grin—

suddenly, my phone is pulled from my hands, his profile on my screen being displayed to the thousands of people watching schlatt's stream.

"you've gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me, doll," he shames. "can you guys believe this? first time she opens twitter in probably, like, two months, and its for this motherfucker."

i push my glasses back up the bridge of my nose, "hey!" i whined, "i tweeted about being in that bodega while some guy robbed it last week! besides... i liked what i saw. can you really blame a girl?" grinning, my eyes met schlatt's, his face dismayed.

"i hope you know you called his best friend 'god's blandest man,'" he says, my face paling.

"aye, my bad, mr. sleep—" "dream!" "mr. dream."

[soapier]

could be anything ˙⋆✮˚

sapnap x female!oc

000. fic coming soon

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shane is chronically offline, which is especially ironic considering the fact that her roommate and best friend, schlatt, is a streamer. a popular one at that.

his chat knew her, and so did fans of adjacent streamers, since she'd often interrupt his streams for help opening jars or to yell at him for using up all of the hot water in your shitty new york apartment. he'd explain that he was talking to chat, to another streamer, to whoever, to which she would always reply that she had no clue who he was talking about.

as a treat, she'd occasionally join him, happily being player two or even just hanging out while he drunk drove in his truck simulator, being his drunk passenger and backseat driver.

finally fed up of shane not knowing literally any of his friends besides ted and tucker, he talked her into playing a game of smash or pass, using pictures of anyone she'd ever brushed off as being "one of the little people in his computer."

this was all fun and games, of course, until sapnap sees his own picture and hears her utter the word "smash" nearly immediately.

[soapier]

playing pretend

sapnap x f!reader

you seek refuge in another bar patron for the night, both feeling lonely after a rough week.

warnings: takes place in a bar, alcohol, mentions of cheating and breakups, shitty ending

++ i might extend this into a longer fic, it has potential ngl. lmk what you think. sorry its kind of short, i’m literally on campus writing this.

the music was loud in the bar, lights flashing, disorienting you further than your four vodka crans had.

it was a saturday, the first saturday since your boyfriend dumped you. your friends forced you to come out, claiming it would help you get over it. so far, they were wrong.

your jeans hugged your curves just so, and your backless top showed off the streaky, half-assed self tan that your roommate made you apply. your friends wanted you to have a reason to get dolled up, maybe feel pretty for the first time all week. you didn’t feel particularly pretty, though.

you gave up on dancing, the act of doing it alone bumming you out severely. navigating through the sweaty bodies on the dance floor, you found an open seat at the bar and situated yourself, ordering a beer to cool you off.

the bartender winked as he took the cash from your hand, making you feel more icky than flattered.

that’s when you heard the man next to you speak. “you look sad,” he said, more of a question than an observation.

“gee, thanks,” you grumbled, resting your chin on your hand. you took a moment to observe the man who initiated conversation; blue eyes, dark hair, and a patchy beard. he wore a hoodie and jeans, not exactly bar attire.

“you good?” he took a sip from his drink, something dark and bubbling.

you sighed, are you really going to confide in some random stranger? you may as well, seeing as your friends have gone AWOL on you.

“my friends dragged me out. said it’ll make me feel better,” you grumbled, nursing the bottle in front of you.

“from what?”

“huh?” you didn’t get the question with your mind’s clouded state.

“the bar will make you feel better from what?” he clarified, turning his body to face you.

you sighed, not believing that you’re about to debrief your week with this guy. “got cheated on. then got dumped. having a great week, i gotta admit,” you grinned a bit, making yourself laugh.

he smiled, “seems like it.” he paused, “i’m in a similar boat. shit sucks, huh?”

you were sucked in by his eyes, glittering in the flashing light. “sure does.”

you sipped your drink again before asking, “did your friends drag you out too?”

he laughed. “yeah, they did,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “told me to get laid, that i’d get over her.”

you rolled your eyes, is that the only reason he’d talked to you? “and how’s that going for you?”

“fuckin’ terrible.” he smiled, “i got no game.”

you nodded in agreement, “i’ll drink to that.”

the two of you toasted your drinks, a bittersweet ‘clink’ barely audible over the music.

he hopped up, offering you a hand. “wanna dance?”

you looked for a second, weighing your options. you could join him, knowing he probably just wanted to hit, or you could sit at the bar, pathetically drowning your sorrows in over-priced, watered-down drinks.

“sure,” you smiled and took his hand, letting him lead you towards the center of the dance floor.

some country-pop tune blared through the speakers, and he twirled you awkwardly. with a giggle you stumbled into his chest, “i’m y/n, by the way.”

“nick,” he smiled down at you, impressive height now revealed.

the two of you continued to dance together, giggly and uncoordinated. a few songs later, though, your face dropped as the first few notes of a familiar song rang out.

“hey, hey… what’s that about?” he said, face soft. he cupped your cheek in his hand, watching your eyes well up.

you half laughed, roughly wiping at the few escaped tears. “i’m sorry, it’s stupid, this was my ex and i’s song.” you felt stupid admitting that to him, thinking he’d judge you. “i just feel… ridiculously single, right now.”

he smiled, akd you felt the warmth of his hands on your waist, “me too, y/n, me, too.”

his smile was soft, eyes kind.

“lets just… pretend, right now. just for tonight, we’re not single.” he said softly, clearly feeling a similar hurt to your own. the offer hung heavy in the air, seeming to suck up all of the air in the room.

you paused, before nodding. “sure. okay, yeah,” it seemed like you were trying to convince yourself, more than you were agreeing.

he smiled, twirling you again. “deal.”

you smiled and watched him lean in, feeling his lips on yours.

“this okay?” he asked, bright eyes searching your own.

blushing, you nod. “yeah, that’s okay.”

jokingly, you took his hand and raised your arm, signalling for him to do a spin. he laughed as he did so, having to bend awkwardly to duck under your connected hands.

watching him crane his body just to make you laugh filled your chest with a slight warmth, you felt ever so slightly less lonely in that moment.

the two of you danced together for nearly an hour without speaking, just taking comfort in one another’s lighthearted presence.

a slower song played, incredibly rare for the bar you were at, and you felt him pull you close to his firm chest, the two of you rocking softly with the music. he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, relishing in the company.

before you could react, however, you felt someone tear you off, grip firm on your arm.

it was your roommate, informing you that the uber was waiting outside, that you had to leave now, that they’d already begged him to wait a couple extra minutes because they couldn’t find you.

she ripped you off of the tall man, nick, and you were halfway through the door by the time you were able to process and look back, meeting his sad, surprised eyes from across the crowd.

“you didn’t even let me get his number!”

—

let me know if you’d want to see this extended, i feel like i have the base for a solid longer story in here.

[soapier]

love drunk

roman roy x intern!reader

roman roy bullshit dubcon intox intern reader whateva

warning: intox, alcohol, dom!roman roy, power imbalance, dubcon, lowkey noncon, mean roman, age gap, intern!reader, choking, lmk if i forget smth

“you stress me out,” you chirped, typing away from a nearby chair.

roman, splayed on the hotel bed, turned to look at his intern. he knew how useless he made you feel; you were so excited to land an internship at waystar royco, just to wind up the assistant to a conniving eunuch. or so you thought.

he laughed, “oh, do i now?” he continued to examine you as you worked, eyes trained on the slipping hemline of your buisness professional skirt.

“yes,” you paused, meeting his eyes, “i think you intentionally make my job harder.”

you weren’t wrong, he thought. he liked messing with you. you were nervous, jumpy, pliable, naive. he found it fun, watching you blush at the fucked-up shit he says. he likes messing with you.

he smiled, knowing he called you in during the weekend just because he could. he’d overheard you chatting with another assistant while grabbing his coffee, saying you had a paper due this weekend, that he’d been running you ragged all week. it was to the point that you hadn’t had enough energy to even start, so you were gonna ‘bang it out’ over the weekend.

i’ll bang something out, he’d mused, before telling you the news that you had to join him for a weekend meeting across the country.

he watched you type away at your paper, wondering what it was about. a book? a theory? he realized that he didn’t give a shit.

then, he had an idea.

“you’re twenty-one, right?” he asked. you paused your typing, staring quizically at him before nodding.

he grinned hopping up, “well. i’m bored. we have nothing to do tonight,” he grinned playfully. you saw something dark shine in his hazel eyes.

“i can try to find you a reservation?” you’d offered, automatically opening a new tab to find somewhere up to his caliber.

you gasped and tugged your fingers back as he slammed your laptop shut. “nope. i’m bored now. go change,” he ordered. “we’re going to the club!”

shocked, you just gaped up at him. “you heard me! shoo! change,” he took you firmly by the arm and guided you to the door of his suite.

“be back in an hour. wear something hot.” he ordered, opening and shutting the door.

—

you babbled aimlessly on the phone with your friend, telling her of your boss’ bizarre suggestion.

“i mean, like, what? my boss wants to go to the club? and i have to join?”

you rifled through your suitcase, trying to find something ‘hot’ like he’d commanded.

“that’s so weird,” your friend’s voice came through the screen. “roman roy is a weird man.”

you hummed in agreeance, holding a dress up to the camera for approval.

“oooh…” your friend said. “i think he’d like that.”

you thought she was right; it was black, tight, satin, with lace adorning the low back.

“i feel naked when i wear this, though,” you complained, “i don’t wanna feel naked at the club with my boss.”

“i don’t think you have much of a choice, unless you wanna look mormon,” your friend teased. “why did you even bring that?”

you laugh, “i was so pissed when he told me i had to come, i drank a bottle of cheap wine before packing. i have no idea what i even have with me.”

your friend giggled as you excused yourself, hanging up to get ready. a shower, shave, blowout, and full face later, you were running exactly on time as you threw on heels to run out the door.

—

roman sat up, hearing you knock on the door. he swung it open, cocky, taking in the image of you.

“all dolled up, just for me?” he teased. you huffed, reminding him that it was your job, that he told you to.

he couldn’t rip his eyes from you, though. curves, satin, black lace, you looked like you’d stepped straight out of every dirty thought he’d had of you.

“shall we?” he played the gentleman, offering his arm as he guided you to the waiting car.

“i didn’t… i didn’t book a reservation?” you said, confused. “where are we going?”

he liked having you clueless. you’re cute when you were confused, when you’re reminded of how much more powerful he is, that you’re ultimately meaningless in his luxe life.

“don’t worry about it,” he smiled, lulling you into a false sense of security. “your only job tonight is to keep me company.”

he found your gaze, doe-eyed and innocent. “alright, mr. roy. i can do that.”

“just roman, tonight.”

the car pulled up outside of a loud club, roman leading you past the growing line, whispering something to the bouncer who nodded and let you in. a hostess led you to a secluded table.

“this is a very nice place,” you commented, “the bars i go to aren’t quite like this.” he heard you giggle. he enjoyed seeing you in awe of the places he brings you, he likes being reminded of how much better he is than you.

“it’s alright,” he says, nonchalantly. he watches you blush before snapping over a waitress.

“macallan tweny-one,” he looked to you.

“oh, um, vodka cran, please,” you ordered meekly, earning a disapproving look.

“sorry. um… champagne?” you ordered, unsure. he smiled, approving of your revised order. the waitress nodded, rushing off.

“vodka cran, please!” he mocked, watching your face blush.

you sputtered, trying to defend yourself. “i’m in college — i don’t drink at nice places! this is the most light i’ve seen in a bar, like, ever!”

he laughed at you, squeezing your hand lightly. “don’t worry, y/n. i’ll order for you tonight?” he offered.

you nodded meekly, not knowing what you’d gotten yourself into.

—

you giggled, leaning against his arm, boss-intern roles forgotten, at least to you. you were telling him some story from a college party, your friends and you running from the cops, fleeing a fraternity party.

juvenile, he thought, but he indulged you anyway.

you were nice and drunk, just how he wanted you. you hadn’t even noticed when he switched from liquor to water for himself.

at some point you switched to babbling on about a book you’d read for class, reccommending it to him. he promised to make a mental note, knowing he’d never bother.

he tested your limits, setting his hand on your exposed upper-thigh. you didn’t notice in the slightest, attention consumed by the bubbles in your glass.

it was easy to get you talking, get you drunk. you’re friendly, thoughtful, he noticed. enjoying his attention, feeling special.

he gritted his teeth into a smile, noticing you quietly soaking in the details of his face. the fine lines forming into his skin, the slick hair now dangling onto his forehead. he’s older, but not at all unattractive.

“i hope—hope you had fun tonight,” you smiled, drunk and slurring your words. even in a destroyed mental state, you were checking in to make sure your boss was happy with your performance.

he squeezed your thigh, hard. “i did, y/n. you’re good company.”

he took the check from the waitress, signing mindlessly before guiding you from the booth. you stumbled initially, gripping his bicep to keep yourself steady.

he put a big hand on your exposed lower back, guiding you out and into the waiting car.

you giggled your way through the car ride, the noise music to his ears. he imagined what other sounds you’d make tonight. would you be scared? would it hurt? probably. but he’d have you screaming, he decided.

back at the hotel, he held you in the elevator, bringing you not back to your room, but his.

“this is your suite, sir,” you giggled, pushing his arm lightly, assuming he’d forgotten, that he was drunk too, that this wasn’t planned from the moment he’d noticed your thighs peaking out from your skirt earlier.

he shushed you gently, “that’s okay, baby. you’re drunk, i wanna make sure you’ll be okay tonight.”

you nodded, too far gone to clock the pet name. god, he felt like such a pervert, like a predator. roman loved it.

he sat you down on the bed, gently. he had your dress halfway down before you realized.

“mr. roy?” “roman.” he corrected you, steely. “mr.—roman, i don’t have anything to sleep in.” the observation was purely innocent, still not realizing what he had in store for you.

“that’s okay, baby. we’ll worry about that later.” your shoulder gleamed in the moonlight spilling through the window.

without warning, he crashed his lips onto yours, eliciting a squeak of surprise. still gentle, he continued to undress you.

“sir?” you asked, bare chest rising and falling with anxiety. “what’s—”

roman cut you off, roughly pushing you down onto his plush mattress, tearing the dress down your legs. he noted the lacy thong underneath.

he smirked. you had no idea what was coming for you when you were getting ready, did you?

he climbed on top of you, pinning you down and sucking at your throat.

“roman, please! i don’t…” you protested, confused and scared. you wanted to push him off, but in your state your body was uncoordinated, heavy.

“god,” he sighed, panting. “you didn’t even notice how much you drank.”

your face wad flushed, eyes wide.

“it’s like you wanted to be weak. imagine if i were someine else…” he tweaked one of your nipples, almost condescendingly.

he pinned your wrists, using the other hand to ghost over your barely covered cunt.

“imagine i was a worse man, if someone else found you like this,” he smirked down at you.

he felt your pussy grow wet at his touch, completely against your will.

“oh… you like that?” he started down at you like you were nothing. “you like thinking of how you could be taken advantage of?”

you squirmed, trying to get away. “please… no,”your cries were weak.

“because it sure fuckin’ seems like it.” he smirked down at you, eyes dark, terrifying. his face read something terrifying.

without warning, he roughly shoved two fingers into you. you cried out, pain searing from the force.

“oh my god, shut up!” he whined, moving his hand from your wrists to your throat, squeezing down.

he kept working your cunt, teasing you about how wet he was making you, theorizing that you have to like it, since you’re just so wet for him.

finally, he let go of you, leaving you coughing and sputtering. he undid his belt, unzipping his dress pants and shoving them down just far enough for his dick to spring forth.

your jaw dropped, both in fear and shock.

he smiled at your reaction. he knows how big he is, and he can’t wait to make you aware too.

roughly, he grabbed you, pulling you off the bed and onto the floor with far more force than necessary. he situated you onto your knees, seeing your sad, doe eyes staring up at him.

“you know what i want you to do.” he said, expectant.

when you didn’t move, he reached down, squishing your face so that your mouth opened, guiding his twitching, red cock between your puffy lips.

you protested, the noise sending sublime vibrations along his member.

“oh,” he hissed. “just like that.”

his hand was entangled roughly in your hair, guiding your little mouth up and down, up and down.

when you finally started to reciprocate, shakily bringing a small hand to the base of his length and sucking like a good girl, he began to thrust harder.

he didn’t want you having a say.

he throat fucked you, watching tears spill from your squeezed-shut eyes. feeling himself coming close, he pulled out suddenly.

“huh?” your quiet voice sounded.

he patted your hair, “you’re doing such a good job, baby. s’good for me.”

you blushed.

he firmly pulled you back up onto your shaky legs, then sat you on the plush hotel bed.

your jaw ached, and your throat felt raw. you didn’t know what to feel. you were confused, drunk, but something about his roughness, his disregard for your wellbeing… it was hot. something you didn’t know you wanted.

he was on top of you again in an instant. he kissed you rough, almost animalistic, marking you primally.

you moaned, surprising him as well as yourself. cheeks flushed, he leaned above you.

“you like that?” you nodded. “you like me using you?”

all you could give him in response was a happy hum.

he smirked, “what a dirty little thing you are. i’ve thought about this every day since i hired you.”

you felt him line himself up with your enterance, pushing in without giving a shit whether it hurt you.

he sighed, feeling you stretch around him, walls of your tight cunt pulsing.

he built up a rough pace, grunting, telling you all of the ways he’s thought of using your little body.

“do you know,” he slammed into you violently, making you yelp. “how many times i’ve wanted to bend you over my desk? tear down those tight little skirts you wear, make you cry on my dick?”

you moaned as he told you how he wanted to ruin you. he took a hand off of the headboard, spitting on it and rubbing rough circles around your clit.

it hurt so good. you told him as such.

you squirmed, tits bouncing with the force of his thrusts.

roman felt your walls pulse, signalling the onset of your orgasm.

“god, you’re pathetic,” he spat. “you like being used by your boss? you want a rich man to ruin you?”

you moaned, the knot in your stomach coming undone violently. you shook, his thrusts coming faster and more uneven as he milked every second of your bliss from you, reaching his own soon after.

he collapsed on top of you, still inside. your chests heaved against once another, roman placing a sloppy, wet kiss against your cheek.

“remind me to give you a return offer.”

[soapier]

little miss perfect

schlatt x virgin!female!reader (18+, duh.)

when schlatt learns at a party that you’re a virgin, he offers to change that for you.

warnings: mentions of catholocism, smoking, drinking, pet names, soft dom schlatt, mean schlatt, virginity loss, inexperienced reader, long preamble lowkey, piv, oral (m and f recieving), instruction, choking on dick, faceriding, lowkey very vanilla considering the concept, mentions of grad school, if i missed anything lmk

“oh, isn’t that just wonderful?” schlatt sneered, shooting you a glare. ted had invited you to an after party in schlatt’s hotel room and you were chatting with some friends from the streaming community.

you had just shared how happy you were; while out tonight, you’d gotten an email that you were accepted to your top masters program. you were finally following your dream of becoming a special ed teacher now that you could afford the degree.

“what is your problem, man?” ted, who had essentially become schlatt’s handler, confronted him on your behalf. you played with your fingers and looked down, trying to distract yourself and prevent tears from forming.

schlatt only sputtered out some grumbling about you always being “little miss perfect” before wandering off to refill his drink. you took another swig of six-dollar wine, hoping to drown the sting that his comment left.

you felt ted’s hand on your lower back as he leaned in, apologizing for his friend’s behavior. “i don’t know what’s up with him today, i’m sorry. you have every right to be excited, getting in is a huge deal.”

you nodded and met his eyes, thanking him and trying to suppress the blush that was elicited by the friendly contact.

“he’s always like that, don’t worry. he just doesn’t like me much, it’s not a big deal,” you assured him. it was a lie, of course. you absolutely hated that he didn’t like you. you wanted everyone to like you, all of the time.

especially schlatt.

before you’d ever met him or interacted with him, you’d thought he was cute. innocently, of course. just a simple schoolgirl crush, you’d always liked big boys. someone strong, someone manly, you know, who could take care of you.

grabbing hold of your wine, you excused yourself to the balcony for a cigarette, hoping to decompress a bit.

the cool LA breeze came over you, tension releasing from your shoulders as you pulled out a pack of camels. putting one between your lips, you shielded the lighter’s flame and inhaled, warmth filling your lungs.

you exhaled, pale gray smoke twirling away in the night. elbows propped on the cool metal railing, you took in the LA skyline, the lights from far-off windows serving as stars in the smoggy city. this is so different from home, so few trees, so much noise; it was a bit overwhelming.

taking another drag, you heard the music grow louder and the glass door behing you sliding open and closed. you looked back once the music once again muffled, some cage the elephant song playing in the other room.

it was schlatt.

you braced yourself for another harsh comment as he joined you against the railing, but none came.

“uh, hi,” you greeted, turning to him but refusing to meet his eyes. you ashed your cigarette before holding it out as a peace offering, mentally cringing at the excess lipgloss sparkling on the butt.

“thanks,” he grunted, taking it and inhaling. “didn’t know you smoked.”

you let out an awkward half-laugh. “yeah, bad habit. picked it up as a teenager.”

he took another drag before passing it back to you, “guess you’re not so perfect after all.”

you shot him a glance. no malice in your eyes, mostly just confusion.

“never claimed to be,” you paused, tapping off some ash and inhaling. “i’m not really sure where you got that impression of me.”

the smoke momentarily curled like lace in the night air.

“i just,” you looked up at schlatt as he awkwardly rubbed his neck, “i wanted to say i’m sorry about tonight. i’ve been a dick.”

you rubbed your bare arms, the cool air finally getting to you, despite the fact that you’ve killed nearly your whole bottle of wine.

“it’s okay,” he had been borderline cruel tonight, but your incessant need to be universally likeable prevented you from telling him that.

you passed back the half-burned cig, noticing the goosebumps on your extended arm.

schlatt must have noticed too, because he immediately shrugged off the crewneck he’d been wearing, leaving him in just a t-shirt.

“you’re cold. put this on,” you followed his command, pulling it over your head. it did a far better job of keeping you warm, considering the fact that you’d gone out in nothing but shorts, with a scarf tied around you as a top.

“thank you, schlatt,” you smiled at him sheepishly, unsure of where the sudden kindness was coming from.

the sweatshirt dwarfed you completely. you had to push the sleeves up in order to have use of your hands, and the hemline hung down to your mid-thigh.

your heart beat rapidly in your chest, and you prayed that it was dark enough to conceal the dark red shade your cheeks had become. his scent engulfed you: cologne, detergent, and manly.

the two of you burned through the rest of the cigarette in silence, not awkward but peaceful, taking in the view.

you finished off your wine and accepted a swig of whiskey when schlatt offered you the bottle. the liquid burned, and you made a face, causing schlatt to break the silence.

“not much of a whiskey fan, sweetheart?” he had a cocky grin on his face, dark eyes boring into you.

“never tried it before, actually.”

“really?” he looked shocked. he crossed his arms over his chest, and in your drunken state you couldn’t help but take in the sight.

his arms were just so big, and his chest so broad. he had the body type that could throw you around with no issue. a real man, not some evil little twink.

you caught yourself and rejoined reality. “yeah, uh, yeah. i lived with my parents throughout college, so i never really drank or—or partied much. until recently, until i could afford to move out.”

he took a step closer and you could feel the heat eminating from his body. “i would’ve never guessed. maybe you are a goody two shoes, like i thought.”

there was something charged about the statement, something that caused your breath to hitch in your throat.

“oh? why do you say?” your eyes were big, curious, meeting his after a short glance at his parted lips.

schlatt continued, “just… a girl as pretty as you, i assumed you would have gone out every weekend. drinking, guys, all the college stuff.”

pretty? schlatt called you pretty?

god, you had to be red as a tomato right now. you tried to shrink into yourself, to hide in his sweatshirt.

“oh, hah, i’ve—i’ve never…” you trailed off, stumbling over your words.

“never what, sweetheart?” your heart fluttered at the nickname, your stomach in knots as he leaned down towards you.

fuck. you can’t tell him that you’ve never hooked up with a guy, he doesn’t even like you that much. this could be a trick for all you know.

his voice was low, gravelly, as he answered his own question. “you’ve never been with anyone?”

you looked down, instinctively fiddling with your hands as you shook your head.

“hey,” he snapped his fingers. “use your words, hon’.”

your head flicked back up, a bit shocked at his tone.

“i’ve, um,” your voice wavered and you cursed yourself for it. “no. i’ve never—never had sex with anyone.”

he grinned before closing the space between your bodies, rough hands holding your face as he kissed you. it was surprisingly gentle, something you’d thought him to be incapable of thus far.

he pulled away, eyes searching yours for approval. “do you want to change that?”

you nodded before catching yourself again, “y—uh, yes, i think.”

he hummed in approval, leading you back into his hotel room by the wrist. the two of you had been outside for a long while, during which most people had filed out to go to bed, leaving only ted and tucker.

“hey man,” ted smiled, not noticing the grip schlatt had on you. “we’re gonna head back to mine and sleep. we just wanted to wait to say goodnight and walk y/n back to her room.”

schlatt waved them off, saying that the two of you were still talking things out, and that he’d walk you there later, since you were only a few floors away.

ted nodded, and he and tucker bid you goodbye. schlatt dropped his grip so that you could give them both a brief goodbye hug.

you and schlatt stood in silence as the door to his hotel room slowly came to a close, before schlatt walked over and locked it for the night.

you sat nervously, stiffly on the edge of the bed as he approached, sitting by your side. his thigh brushed yours as you looked to him.

you soaked up every detail of his face, his deep brown eyes, thick, dark hair, the faint crow’s feet and smile lines forming in his skin.

his big hand came to rest on your upper thigh, a couple fingers slipping underneath his crewneck.

“you’re sure you want to do this?” he asked, giving your leg a light squeeze.

biting your lip, you thought for a moment.

“i—yes. i just,” you took a shaky breath, “i don’t know what to do.”

his smile was intoxicating, even more so than the alcohol you’d drank tonight.

“that’s okay, y/n. i’ll talk you through everything,” he squeezed your leg again, this time harder. “no surprises.”

you nodded silently, nervous eyes sparkling in the low light of the hotel room.

he kissed you again, deeper than the first time. you kissed back, mimicking his motions and letting his tongue in when he opened his mouth wider.

you kicked off your shoes as he wordlessly guided you down to the mattress, rolling himself on top of you.

you moved your hands from his broad shoulders, one finding his bicep and the other tangling itself in his soft hair. his own wandered down to your waist, the other holding himself up above you.

the touch was alien, but not unwelcome. his huge hand was able to wrap around your side, eventually grabbing a handful of your ass.

you gasped, causing him to break away from you.

“you okay?” he asked, back tensing.

a smile graced your lips and you nodded, pulling him back in.

lips again locked, you leaned into his palm when it met your chest. he harshly pinched your nipple, causing you to clench your thighs. he must’ve noticed, because you felt him smirk against your mouth.

he again pulled away, pulling his crewneck over your head. he pushed up the scarf serving as your top and laid you back down.

you instinctively moved to cover yourself before his mouth met your chest.

he gently pulled your arm away, cooing. “its okay, y/n. this is normal, this is to make you feel good, make sure you’re ready.”

“mmm,” you hummed as his finger traced circles around the peak of your chest. “okay.”

with that he latched on, palming one breast while sucking and nipping at the other. he eventually switched sides and guided your hand down to his bulge. his hand over yours, he guided it to palm him through his jeans.

even through the thick fabric, you could tell he was hard, your hand struggling to satisfy him.

schlatt eventually broke away from your chest. “you have the most perfect tits,” he commented, ripping his eyes away from them to look at your face. your eyes, once alert, were half-hooded and filled with adoration.

“so fuckin’ pretty,” he nearly growled, lips meeting yours again briefly.

he quickly undid his belt, pulling his boxers down with his jeans. a long, thick cock sprung forth, tip already gleaming with what you could only assume was pre-cum.

what have you gotten yourself into?

schlatt laughed at your slack-jawed shock. “never seen one this big before, toots?”

you shook your head no, almost afraid to take your eyes off of the monstrous member he sported.

his eyes darkened before grabbing your jaw. “hey. what did i tell you about using your words?”

he continued to hold your face, forcing eye contact as you said, “no, sorry. you’re a lot bigger than i expected.”

“good girl,” he smiled. “i’ll show you how to touch it.”

you watched as he gave a few lazy tugs, hand wrapping around the base.

he reached over and grabbed your own hand, holding it out flat.

“spit,” he commanded. you gathered what little saliva you could from your suddenly dry mouth, doing as told and spitting it onto your palm.

he moved it to his shaft, hand engulfing yours as he showed you how to jerk him off. you were shocked; your hand didn’t even reach all the way around.

“like… like this?” you ask, big doe eyes flicking up to his face. his eyes were closed, with his bottom lip between his teeth.

he opened his eyes, hand covering your with more force. “like you mean it, toots.”

you gripped harder, like he showed you. “shit,” he hissed, “you’re learning quick.”

blushing, you continued for a few more strokes before he stopped you.

“are you feeling brave, sugar?” you blushed, shrugging your shoulders.

he asked if you’d ever sucked cock before, to which you shook your head ‘no’. he snapped, reminding you to use ‘big girl words’, a phrase that had your center growing ever hotter.

“like this,” he took two of your fingers into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks and pressing his tongue against them. it felt… weird.

he then switched, telling you to try on his fingers, first.

“can’t have you gettin’ nippy on my dick, now.”

you mimicked his action, which earned an approving grin. schlatt stood you up from the bed before pushing you down to your knees in front of him.

you looked up. he was so big like this, so tall and strong and broad.

he reached down, squeezing your mouth open. he slowly slid his cock in, meaty, salty, musky. you mimicked the practice he’d had you do on his digits, slowly bobbing your head forward and back. he let out a contented sigh, moving your hand to the base of his dick, which you couldn’t fit into your petite mouth. you found a rhythm, moving your hand with your mouth, feeling a dull ache in your jaw after a couple of minutes.

getting overzealous, you took in more than you could handle, causing tears to follow down your cheeks as you coughed and sputtered.

“you can’t take all of me, sweetheart. i’m too big, you end up choking.” you nodded, looking up to meet his eyes.

you’d made a mess of yourself and his dick, a shiny string of saliva still connecting his rosy tip and your parted lips.

he pulled you back up, immediately kissing you hard. he lifted his shirt over his head and lowered you onto the bed, hand drawing ever closer to your dripping core.

his body framing yours, you felt as he gently dragged a finger along your slit, eliciting a shiver from you.

“have you ever been touched here?” schlatt grumbled, hand resting against your pussy.

“no,” you breathed, nervously anticipating what was to come.

“have you touched yourself like this?” he again asked, finger circling your aching clit.

you shook your head no, then caught yourself before he could correct you; “no, not really. i’ve always been too nervous.”

he clocked you immediately, “catholic?”

“yup.”

“makes sense.” he paused, searching your eyes as he continued to toy with your sex. “i’ll be nice, in that case.”

before you could ask what he meant, you felt him insert just one digit in your tight hole. you hissed as he slowly moved it in and out, curling it inside of you. he continued pumping it, until he asked if you could handle another.

“i think so…” your vouce trailed off, eyes distracted by the chest hair and happy trail donning his torso.

you felt a sting, a harsh stretch as he inserted a second finger, working you cunt harder than before. his rough thumb pad played with your clit in just the right way to turn you into a babbling mess.

your hands clung to him, one taught in his dark curls and the other holding on for dear life to his bicep.

“you’re so cute like this, you know,” he grinned down at you, a dark look in his eyes. “a mess, an innocent little girl. god, you’re perfect.”

without warning, he inserted a third finger, causing your back to arch off of the bed.

“ohmygod schlatt, shit,” you heaved.

he shushed you gently, “i have to stretch you out, baby. make sure you can handle me. i don’t want to hurt you more than i have to.”

your face flushed with the affectionate name.

“thank you, ah—fuck!” you hissed, waiting for the pain to turn to pleasure like it had with the first two digits.

“yeah, gotta stretch you nice and good for me,” the tall man said, more to himself than you.

and eventually, with enough of schlatt scissoring his fingers, pumping them in and out of you, that purr returned to your core, a blinding pleasure that you were still adjusting to.

“oh,” you moaned, squeezing his thick arm.

“that feel good, sweetheart?” he asked, smirking down at you.

you nodded, brain temporarily blank.

he suddenly stopped, “then i think you’re ready.” he decided. he held out two of his fingers, telling you to lick them clean.

you did as told, watching as he rolled a condom over his fat cock.

“scoot back,” he commanded, watching you scramble back against the stack of hotel pillows.

he again climbed on top of you, nudging your knees apart with his own. you watched with baited breath as he ran his fingers against your still-dripping pussy, using your juices to lubricate himself.

he lined himself up with your tight enterance, then looked you in the eyes.

“are you ready, hon’?” you nodded nervously, feeling him intertwine your fingers. “it’s your first time, i’ll let you hold my hand, baby.”

he pushed in slowly, only a couple of inches. your eyes watered with the burn, turning your head into the pillows to muffle the noises you made as you adjusted.

he pushed in a little more, grabbing your face roughly and forcing you to look at him. “i wanna hear you, baby. i wanna hear how good i make you feel tonight.”

meeting his eyes, you winced as he slowly pushed in, most of him inside of you. “i know, baby, i know. i’m a lot to take.”

you nodded, watching beads of sweat drip from his domineering figure. you could tell he was trying so hard to hold back.

“do you feel okay? can you take the rest of me baby?” he licked his lips, looking ready to devour you. “only a couple more inches.

feeling brave, you said yes, and he slammed into you, hard. you let out a yelp, cheeks burning in embarrassment.

“hey, hey, don’t be embarrassed,” he cooed, pushing sweaty hair from your forehead. “you’re doing so good for such a little lady. its hard, its a lot.”

you squeezed his hand, ready for him to start actually thrusting. it burned at first, a searing pain as his huge cock strained your virgin walls. as he continued, however, the pain faded and pleasure took over.

warm, sensual, soft waves of happiness wracked your body, feeling so full for the first time.

you moaned his name loudly, which only seemed to spur him on. he let go of your hand, electing to positively punish the bundle of nerves at the peak of your sex. you could’ve swore that your eyes rolled back in your head.

he worked you hard, still holding back. “tell me if i can go harder, sweetheart. tell me you want more.” his voice was gravelly, with something primal coming over him as he took your virginity.

before you could say anything, he was slamming into you, fucking you harder than you thought possible. you were moaning loudly, shamelessly, begging him for more, telling him how good he was making you feel: he felt like a god.

he could tell you were close to orgasm, even if you couldn’t. he went into overdrive, barking at you to “tell him who your pussy belongs to.”

without even thinking, you were screaming his name, feeling him slam into you time and time again.

you came, a wave of relief overcoming your body as you moaned and yelped shamelessly.

schlatt, still rolling his hips inside of you, lowered himself to give you a rough, yet passionate kiss.

“look at little miss perfect, crying and screaming for my dick,” he grinned, nipping at your neck as he felt his own orgasm come on. his thrusts fell out of rhythm, becoming staggered and sloppy, before finally feeling his nuts contract and spurting his seed into the condom, still buried in your puffy, sore little cunt.

“such a perfect little slut,” he breathed, tweaking a nipple just to get a cry out of you.

“schlatt,” you mewled. “that was so, so…” you couldn’t find the words.

he laughed, “i’m not done with you just yet, toots.”

he watched you look at him incredulously, chest still heaving from your intense release.

“i… i can’t,” you claimed, fear in your eyes. you were still so sensitive, so sore.

he half-chuckled, “yes you can. you have another orgasm in ‘ya, i can tell.”

he laid on his back, telling you to kneel on the bed.

“sit on my face, baby,” he commanded.

“huh?” nervousness edged your voice.

“you heard me,” he grumbled. “get up here.” he tugged your arm, guiding you into position.

you hovered nervously over the man’s face, legs still shaking. his big hands reached up, pulling you down.

you gasped, feeling his tongue lap at your sensitive core.

you couldn’t help the sounds that escaped you as he sucked on your clit, tongue circling it expertly as his facial hair tickled your inner thighs.

you sighed his name over and over, getting louder as he added two digits into your spasming hole. his big nose served as consistent, intense stimulation against your core, and you grew weak, feeling that same overwhelming feeling growing in the pit of your stomach.

and then, you came. all over his face, mind you.

you cried out as he continued to work you through your second orgasm, body weak and tears rolling over those pretty cheeks of yours. after a minute or two, you felt schlatt gently tap your round hip, signaling for you to dismount.

you collapsed into the plush bed next to him, feeling a strong arm pull you flush against his body.

“did you enjoy it?” he asked. his body was warm, strong, comforting, his arm firmly around your waist, kneading at your supple chest.

“yeah,” you sighed. “i did.”

he laughed, “do you get it now, sex?”

you nodded. “did i do okay?”

he chuckled and gave you a squeeze, “you did perfect, baby.”