dream smp oneshots <3

sex stories

warnings :

none 

mentions of smut tho ;)

characters :

george, clay, nick, quackity, karl :)

summary :

the four times that george told nick his bad sex stories, and one time he didn't.

x o x o

George didn't know who to go to. If he went to Clay it would change the entire dynamic of their relationship and everything from that point on would be awkward and tense.

He couldn't go to Tubbo or Niki, because they would tell Tommy and Wilbur and George would never hear the end of it. 

He couldn't go to Schlatt because he would be catastrophically sarcastic, and Quackity would either pull an innocent little puppy face. And that's not something that would be particularly helpful at the moment.

So after debunking why he should absolutely not go to certain people with his developing rant; he decided, after heavily weighing the pros and cons, he would go to Nick.

After a brief 'be at my place in five minutes and we'll get pizza' then when he got no reply, 'and pay'. Five minutes later his doorbell was ringing and Nick was invading his apartment like the little gremlin he was. 

"What's the problem George? I got shit to do and people to see," Nick grinned as he threw himself onto George's bed with a bag of crisps he had taken from the kitchen. 

"I had sex last night." The words tumbled from his lips with a rushed ease, his chest lifting a little with the admission. Nick, with his mouth full of chips, sat up with raised brows and an intrigued expression.

"Tell me more." He demanded. George fell into his desk chair with a relieved sigh, wheeling it over to the bed so the distance wasn't too great.

"I met this guy at that bar down the road, and he said I was cute so I let him buy me a drink. He was flirting with me all night, touching my thigh, giving me these big bedroom eyes. And he was at least a nine so I went home with him, expecting some great sex, but..." George trail off, wincing with the memory.

"But what? What'd he do?" Nick prodded.

"He... Nick he had a foot fetish." George grimaced, putting his hand up in defense. "Now I'm not saying there's anything wrong with people with a foot fetish, but I'm pretty sure It's an unspoken rule, something called consent, that you need to get before you stick someone's foot in your mouth. I was so fucking shocked that I couldn't even move before he was shooting his load all over himself." Nick's mouth was dropped open, his bag of chips completely forgotten at his side. 

"Oh my god. What'd you do?" Nick asked.

"He was so distracted that I just faked it and left. He didn't even care, I don't think he noticed I left." George shrugged.

"Wow. I think that's the best bad sex story I have ever heard. If I may though, why are you telling me?" Nick asked. 

"Because I know you wouldn't judge me and wouldn't tell anyone. Well you'd probably tell Karl or Tubbo or Clay, but I know once you promise you won't." 

"Yeah, true. If you have any interactions with anymore weird feet guys, call me."

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