#sandwich fic

[detroitbydark]

Soul Lies Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Title: Tell Me That Your Soul Lies Now

Relationship: Sev/OC/Scorch

Rating: Teen

Characters: Jessa, Sev, Scorch, a smattering of commandos and nulls

Warnings: None

Summary: It's time to shine girl. The boys talk about The Rules.

Thank you all for your patience. as you know life happens and I'm so happy to get back to this story. Thank @fractiouskat​ for being an A+ cheerleader and thank you to @royalhandmaidens​ for the greatest banner ever!

What role should she play? Jessa wonders idly as she and her Mandalorian bodyguard move

 up through the queue to check in and receive her bidding number.  Wal’buir had discussed her options and the pros and cons each entailed. The first option had been the bubbly, dumb socialite, someone who wasn’t taken seriously and was easily looked over. The problem with that was that no one would take her seriously. In order to complete her given objective, she needed to be seen as a legitimate buyer and not a brainless waif playing with her Daddy’s money.

The second option had her channeling her own history, her mothers ability to look down her nose and her father’s ability to become the most important person in any room. Mix that with her recently acquired buir’s imperious, cool nature and she had a pretty good idea of the character she’d need to portray. 

As they reach the front of the loose line Jessa is halted by a sour looking young man. 

“Ma’am, we need to check for weapons.” The man in front of her towers, dressed in Imperial gray, he’s thin with birdlike features that give his face a tight, pinched look. He was put upon and not above letting the galaxy at large know his poor mood. He must have drawn the short straw. She couldn’t really blame him for the poor attitude he radiated. He was a soldier not a doorman. He probably hadn’t had the option of saying “no” and that had landed him babysitting elite for the evening.

“Do I look like someone who would carry a weapon?” Her arms cross loosely over her chest and her painted lips curl in disgust for good measure. The door man cringes before he can school his features.

 Yes, option two felt better.

The gray-clad imperial attendant makes little attempt to hide the contempt in his eyes. He persists.

“House rules. I’m sure you understand.”  Technically she did, but she also didn’t care. The thought of throwing out a “do you know who I am?” does cross her mind, but it feels like that’s a card she can only play once and get away with it. It would be a shame to waste it on someone that didn’t  matter.

“Fine.” she huffs, making no move to hide her disdain.  The Imp moves cautiously to kneel in front of her. He eyes her like a hungry nexu eyes a mouse. It’s a strange feeling. The attendant's hand wrapping around her ankle jolts her violently from any thoughts she’d have further on it.  She kicks out and the man's grip tightens.

“No pat down. No entry.”  The grin he’s trying to smother makes her feel like the power’s shifted and her heart rate changes in compliance, beating faster in her chest. 

Luckily for Jessa, a Mandalorian bodyguard came with certain perks. The first, Jessa notes is the sudden and immediate halt of the man’s hands as he looks up and- Jessa doesn’t need to look over her shoulder, she can feel Mereel there at her back. She looks anyway. Intimidating is not a strong enough word to describe a clone commando in full Mandalorian beskar’gam. The t-visor lends a certain menace to the already imposing figure Mereel cuts. 

“The lady doesn’t need a pat down.”

“I-”

“You were just finishing up.”

“Yeah. Fine. What about you then?” The man's gaze lingers as he draws back up to his full spindly height. Jessa’s reminded of a toothpick and she doesn’t attempt to stifle the smile that crosses her face. The imp’s eyes narrow but Mereel is inserting himself between the two. 

“I’m Mandalorian. I have weapons to check. Obviously.”

—---------------------

“Well that was delightful.”  Mereel grumbles as they enter into the makeshift ballroom set up for the auction. A  twi’lek waiter passes, and he reaches out and snags a flute of something bubbly from his tray.  At her side again, he presses the stem into Jessa’s hand.

“Take a drink and relax.”

Jessa bristles as a string quartet situated off in the corner tunes up. His words feel accusing and it brings up her hackles. 

“I’m fine.” She asserts, taking an absent-minded sip. The bubbles tickle at her nose as the dry drink slips down her throat. She preferred it sweet. She takes another swallow.

“Relax.”

“Don’t tell me to relax.” She can hear the amusement lacing his voice.

“Would you rather I make that an order?”

She pointedly ignores him. The room is large with a low-slung stage at the front. They’ve done an excellent job making it feel like something other than what it is. Jessa can’t even begin to imagine why a military outpost required a crystal chandelier or red velvet panels padding the walls. 

Tiny enclaves of participants to the festivities have gathered in various circles about the room. Jessa studies, remembering what she’d been told. While Kal had seen this as a snatch-and-grab rescue mission, Walon had been very clear that there was more to be accomplished on top of the mission at hand. Who were the Imperials in bed with? How did their networks function? Little details she could bring back could be invaluable in deciphering it all and, in the larger scheme of things, keep them all safe. 

The Mandalore system was rapidly approaching a tipping point- years of neutrality could not save them from the pressures the new Galactic regime was beginning to exert. Fenn Shysa was a good Mand’alor but years of the Kryze sisters infighting had created a rift that wasn’t soon healed. Mandalore would either crack or it would become something far more resilient, far stronger then it had ever been,  but it would not happen without work. That work began with intelligence.

The Pyke contingent is easy to pick out, standing in a semicircle speaking quietly amongst themselves. Their fish-like features were distinct and they could be mistaken for nothing else. In a sea of human participants they stood out like a sore thumb. Spice lords and drug runners, Jessa was sure their sights would be set on the half dozen decommissioned Imperial ships set to hit the auction block. While she was wary, the Pyke’s were not an immediate concern.

Jessa notes their orientation and the way their tiny almond-like eyes focus across the room. A pair of human guests, a man and a young woman, converse quietly. The woman has an arm wrapped around his forearm as he guides her toward the front of the room. She can’t place them on the side profile alone. As if drawn by her gaze the man’s head turns and Jessa recognizes him from one of her Buir’s holos. Dryden Vos of Crimson Dawn. 

“Some heavy hitters here tonight.” Mereel’s voice catches up with her thoughts. Jessa hums quietly.

“There’s no shame in saying you can’t do this.”

Jessa takes a slow drink from her fluted glass.  "If I didn’t know better, I’d say you had a wager out that I couldn’t do this,” she offers dryly. “There’s all the shame and you know it. Stop worrying about me and let’s do this.”

Mereel says nothing else, be it from a place of self preservation or another conversation in his comms she’s not privy to. Jessa doesn’t care. She’s set in this course and there’s no other option but to see it through to the end. 

The string quartet finishes their warmup and begins playing soft classical music. She recognizes it as something distinctly inner rim- Chandrillan. They may be in the system, but nothing about tonight was for Mandalorians. To her side a group begins to form, looking distinctly less crime syndicate and far more too-much-money-for-their-own-good. It’s what she’s been waiting for.

“Miss, may I?” A passing waiter gestures to her mostly empty glass. Jessa hands it over, fighting the urge to not wastefully abandon the last mouthful. In return he hands her a fresh one. She gives a small nod of thanks before casually making her way to the new group.

Don’t stand out. That’s what Wal’buir had said. These people offered the best option to remain unmemorable, as, outside of inflated bank accounts, they were entirely unremarkable themselves. Rich human men and their far-younger trophies; an ancient beady-eyed heiress; the exact people she’d been brought up to be one of.

That time seemed so long ago. She was a different person now, but she remembered. Skirata and Walon had counted on the fact and she was loath to disappoint her new-found aliit.

She doesn’t need to look to see Mereel taking up position a few feet behind her. He knew his job better than she knew hers. She trusted him with that. He may be playing the dutiful bodyguard, but she knew he and Scorch had words about it days ago- the same way she knew she was safe as long as she followed the plan.

“Lovely evening, isn’t it?” A man who seemed to be a round, amalgamous shape in a suit asks in greeting. On his arm his wife shifts, her eyes scanning the crowd with a boredom that Jessa can relate to.

“It really is. They’ve set the tone for such an interesting event. I’m thoroughly impressed.”

“Right.” He glances behind her and then makes a point of looking about her, “Are you here on your own then?”

Jessa bristles, “My father trusts my judgment.” That was true, her Buir had said as much. 

“And who is your father?” 

She’s honestly been waiting for this since they’d landed. Both Jessa and Walon had pored over the gossip sheets, him begrudgingly and her like she had when she’d been young. They’d found the Chandrillan family, heirs to a munitions fortune, in short work. Elderly patriarch that rarely left home and erstwhile daughter who was just as elusive. Unphotographed since childhood due to an unfortunate spice habit that had her family covertly shipping her off to rehab facilities on the regular, she’d been a perfect cover.

‘The Count of Wester.’

The man of shapes nods his head. Jessa offers him a droll smile as she glances over her shoulder.

“I’m hoping to find something special for my security. Mandalorians are well and good but,” she lowers her voice conspiratorially. “As I’m sure you know, they’re only loyal to money.”

A hearty chuckle wheezes from the man, “I’m sure money is no issue to your Father.”

“Agreed but I don’t feel like being extorted for my own safety by unscrupulous business practices.” She ignores the grumble from Mereel behind her, leaving her feeling quite pleased with herself indeed.

“Clever girl.”

“Very. Thank you.”

———————

They went dark before they hit atmo, emergency lighting casting a dim glow about the bay. The Duke slides smoothly through space with Kom’rk at the controls. Sev stares ahead, eyes locked on a small red safety light. At his side Scorch fidgets. He’s been doing it since they left the airfield. It’s a genuine surprise he hasn’t been asked what was eating him yet. Maybe he was learning some patience. Maybe he should just assume Sev knew-

‘I screwed the bantha with this one.’

Atin doesn’t seem to notice the statement, but he’s become an expert at ignoring anything without a Skirata last name. Corr, though, allows his eyes to twitch to them. Scorch ignores it, focusing on his brother's lowly grumbled statement.

“Whadda ya mean?” Scorch feels itchy about the whole thing.

“Nevermind. Changed my mind. It’s fine.” Sev mutters gruffly, his head rocking back to find a new point of focus on the ceiling. Scorch has whiplash from the sudden change of tune.

“That’s great. Not my question.”

The Duke rattles quietly as they transition from the black of space further into the moon's atmosphere. They’d lay low, out of range of the outposts scanners until absolutely necessary. Scorch uses his boots to hold tight the bag of detonators between them as they threaten to vibrate away.

“Sev?”

“I didn’t-“ a rough burst of air is forced through his lips, “I didn’t say why.”

“You didn’t…” Scorch lets the answer swirl in the air between them until, ‘You didn’t tell her why we were giving them.”

“Nope.”

Scorch slumps into the jump seat. Fek. That wasn’t ideal.

“Sev’s telling who what?” Corr asks with all the tact of exuberant massiff pup. Great. That was just what they needed. Rule 10 had been created for a reason. Keep Kal out of it. As much as Scorch found common ground with the former demolitions expert he also knew right where he’d run when they hit the tarmac. There was nothing Kal Skirata loved more than being in the know. Strike that, there was nothing Kal Skirata loved more than sticking his nose in business that didn’t concern him. Their (hopeful) relationship with Jessa was not something that needed the Skirata touch. He wasn’t even sure it was going to survive their touch.

“Nothing that concerns you.”

“But-“

“I gave Laseema the ugliest Lekku harness known to man for a courting gift.” Atin husks out a laugh. Scorch catches a small grin and a shake of the other commando's head. “She wore it too. Didn’t have the heart to tell me it was too small and the dye stained her skin.” There’s a fond look in place as he stares into the middle distance in front of him. “You can’t do much worse than that.”

“Can if she doesn’t know they were courting gifts.” Scorch zips his lips when Sev speaks. If he knew his brother- which he did- he was already feeling the sour twist of failure in his gut. There wasn’t much to say to change that.

Atin waves him off, “she’ll figure it out and you’ll be chasing around tiny psychopaths in no time.”

It’s a struggle to ignore Corr obviously storing the intel away but no more so than trying to pretend he couldn’t picture Jessa with ikaad of her own. That was an image he needed to be shove haphazardly into a box and pretend didn’t exist.

He catches Sev’s eye. His face is impassable. He makes a note to throw some dets in that particular mental box. 

—————

“Who are you?” 

Jessa raises a perfectly arched brow at the heavily modulated voice. Mereel towers over her right shoulder, her imposing bodyguard/handler.

“Not sure what that’s supposed to mean.” She takes a lingering sip of sparkling wine. Small talk with the wife of an Imperial connected merchant had been enlightening. Seems there was a lot of interest in a retired beskar mine in Sundari. 

“You’re a natural.”

His tone lets her know it’s not necessarily a compliment. She doesn’t offer acknowledgement. If he wanted to pay backhanded compliments she’d pay them back with silence.

You know your worth. Wal’buirs voice echoes in her head.

She gazes past the small crowds of people and the rows of red velvet chairs to the stage at the front of the room. People are beginning to congregate as holobooks are passed out, presumably lots and their corresponding numbers. The room she’d been auctioned off in had lacked the opulence of the one she now stood in. The thought comes to her, intrusive and unwanted. She’d been to one other auction in her life- but she’d been the merchandise. 

She finishes the wine in her hand, setting the glass on a table as she makes her way to the front of the room. She hears a soft huff through Mereel’s vocoder. To everyone watching, he worked for her and she was not about to ask his permission for anything, lest that carefully cultivated ruse be damaged. 

A matte gunmetal droid begins handing out holobooks to the gathered crowds. Jessa takes a proffered tablet as a curtain to the left of the stage is pulled back. A disembodied voice smoothly announces the beginning of the preview. According to the holobook the auction would begin twenty minutes after the preview. She skims the contents. Rules. Schedule. Payment options. All seemingly above the board.

“I want to see if my money is well spent here.” She announces to the armored Mando behind her. She’s prim and haughty. “I assume you’ll be able to comment on the quality?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She smiles to herself, dipping her chin to hide her amusement at the Null’s tight response. Scorch would enjoy watching her acting. She’s sure of it. But now is not the time to let the thought of him warm her heart. She spots the rows of merchandise lined up and steals herself. They still had work to do.

She strolls, languid as a cat, toward the gathering crowds. She keeps her features neutral and passive, looking nothing more than the slightly bored debutante she’d assigned herself to play.

The first cluster of auction-goers has set up shop around various displays of weaponry. Heavy guns, smaller blasters, thermal detonators. Her boys would be in heaven. Her fingers graze the durasteel lid of a munitions crate as she moves toward more desirable merchandise.

“Could do a lot of damage with those.” Mereel’s reassuring presence is close. She can feel the bulk of him at her back.

“Looking to do a little shopping of your own?”

“If the situation presents itself.”

She smiles despite herself. 

It disappears quickly as it appears. The mission objective- objectives loom ahead. A row of men stand at parade rest. Clones. Five In total, identical as physically possible though small differences in build and stature are noticeable even with them at rest.

‘Different classes” Mereel offers quietly as if he can see the question on her face. “Two standard spec troopers. Next two- probably pilot class. Last one is a commando.”

“Anyone you know?” She glances at him and catches a shrug.

“They’re keeping them more in regs. GAR frowned on individuality but most generals didn’t bother to enforce regulations. Our glorious new Empire seems to feel differently.”

Jessa steps closer, stopping in front of the first captive in-line. He stares ahead with eyes familiar but dead. They don’t twitch to her as she takes in his appearance. He looks average in every way. Confusion and some other unnamed emotion flit at the edge of her consciousness. They were told there’d be more commandos . Maybe they were tucked away with the others in reserve? She takes a step further down the line, past the second trooper and to what Mereel had claimed were the pilots. She pays little attention, flipping through the holopad to find the list of goods. 

“Skid, Cap, Kivo, Rev, Merri…” the pilot she’s come to a stop in front of is mumbling to himself in a rapid, quaking voice. He’s worse for wear, obviously in poorer condition than the others around him. He’s thin and the high and tight haircut they all sported only accentuates  his stark cheekbones and the dip at his silvered temples. 

“Poor kid.” Mereel sighs, now at her side.

“What’s wrong with him?” 

The pilot continues his rapid nonsensical mumbling.

“Look at his eyes. All their eyes.” He tips his helmet down the line. “They drugged them like fathiers.” Disgust laces his words. Jessa feels the sick pull of it bubbling in her own stomach.

“It wasn’t good enough to put restraining collars on. They gave them all tranqs too.”

The holopad offers a small blurb on each item for auction. Each of these men’s lives broken down into a line or two touting their usefulness, “what does this mean?”

She points at the number following each description. The broken pilot has an 0458 behind his. Mereel takes the pad, his hands dwarfing it as he scrolls.

“Son of a bitch…”

“What?”

“It’s his serial number. All of their serial numbers.”

Jessa scans the list and the seemingly nonsense numbers. One sticks out. Wal’buir had scolded Sev and Scorch days before, using their numbers like other parents would use the middle name of a contrary child.

If Four-Oh were here we wouldn’t have this issue.

Scorch’s expression had soured at the mention and her brows had furrowed in confusion. Wal’buir had noted and seemed to take pleasure in repeating what had made the demolitions expert so uncomfortable. 

Eleven Forty, one of their lost brothers.

The second glass of champagne threatens to make a reappearance as her eyes travel to the last man in line. 

One of two lost brothers.

1140

Fixer.

——————-

‘Clear!’ Scorch’s crisp voice rings through the comms of the three commandos at his back. The adrenaline from the fast rope still pumped gleefully through his veins as the exterior door gives an electric pop as the bright flash of micro dets flare to life. The four commandos ready for entry as the faint lights of the Duke above, disappear from sight. They were on their own til rendezvous.

Sev and Corr slide past him as he gathers his supplies back into his kit. Atin covers his shebs, blasters at the ready.

It’s a clean breach. Buir would approve, he thinks in passing, swinging his pack back on and moving into the wide hallway. The muzzle fire of a blaster rings out with comforting familiarity. One down. 

The gray clad Imp lays at Corr’s feet as the commando crouches down and does a cursory check of his pockets. He palms a keycard. Sev holds steady behind him. 

With only the soft clatter of his beskar’gam, the former commando rises and gives Sev a nod. A rumbling, ‘move out’ echoes through their comms. 

A few long strides eat up the distance between them, Scorch slotting in behind him as they stalk down their predetermined route.

“May as well head back to the yaim, Scorch’ika. I’ve got the golden ticket.” Scorch can imagine the smug smile on the younger clone's face as he holds the keycard between gloved fingers. 

“Yeah, if you want to do it the boring way. I thought you knew better?” They fan out from their hallway to the open T of the next, Sev and Atin sweeping right while he and Corr clear the left.

“The boring way means I don’t risk these fancy new hands.”

Scorch guffaws. “The loss of your sense of adventure concerns and saddens me.”

Atin chuckles.

“You can’t hold it against me that I like to feel my own-“ the banter is cut short as a door a foot in front of Corr slides open with a shink. White plastoid invades the passage.

Sev’s large frame is already prepared. His arm raises and the butt of his blaster. comes down across the front first troopers helmet with enough force to crack the plastoid. As they crumble, Sev steps into the other's space, his beskar clad arm snaps up and makes contact between the edge of the unfortunate sentient's helmet and neck.

Scorch flinches at the clatter of armor as the second trooper slides down the corridor wall.

“Gonna ruin the surprise, vod.”

Sev’s buyce turns toward him.  “Sorry”. His voice is as flat as the expression Scorch knows he wears underneath.

Moving forward, Scorch takes a knee with his vod’e safely covering him. The first trooper has a fracture running up the length of his helmet. Katarn would never. He loved his beskar’gam, it made him feel like he was part of something greater. His katarn had done the same once and he’d grieve (just a little) the loss of that part of his life. 

Without his usual flair, he pulls the useless helmet off.  The trooper is out cold. Scorch takes in his appearance. Pale skin. A smattering of freckles over the bridge of their nose. Light brown hair.

He moves on to the next, unceremoniously yanking the helmet from the storm troopers head. He finds skin shades lighter than his own, thin blonde hair and a smattering of matching stubble along their jaw.

He lets the ruined helmet fall with a clatter next to the trooper. Rising to his full height he aims his blaster and places two bolts center mass before giving the first trooper a matching set.

Corr stares at the two lifeless stormtroopers, ‘what was that about?’’

‘Needed to make sure I wasn’t sending vod’e’ marching’ Scorch explains. Another set of plastoid rounds the corner and Sev answers the clatter of cheap armor with two quickly placed bolts dead center.

“Rule 17 is in effect now.”

“About that,” Corrs voice asks through their comms. “What’s rule number one?”

Atin, Sev, and Scorch answer in unison, “Eat your vegetables.”

taglist: @bylightofdawn @leias-left-hair-bun-again @skdubbs @passionofthesith @haloangel391​ @fractiouskat @clonewarslover55​ ​ @jedi-mando @shadylightbearherring @poppunkdee

@royalhandmaidens @wolfswing @generic-geek-girl @captainrexwouldnever @ahhrenata @apathetic-catastrophie @littledragon @my-own-oraclen

[seagiri]

very sleep deprived doodles of whatever’s going on inside my brain

[pequins]

IRL P0RN VISUALS 🔗

cont : slimecicle , ted nivison & jschlatt .

MDNI NSFW AHEAD

all vids are from twitter , you might have to log in to see them.

( more to be added when i find them )

SCHLATT

a/n : he looks so fucking good in this video im gonna chew on him

schlatt giving you a punishment for being a brat

( LC ) schlatt jerking vid

teasing / c^nt slapping

sub!schlatt org4sm denial

CHARLIE

c^nt slapping

against the desk

size difference

TED NIVISION

f!ngering

p^ssy eating

size difference

[unlust-fvck]

"please get off my lap." "but you're so much prettier from this angle."

with chuckle sammy + will (and dreamy weamy if not its ok)

i had so much fun writing this :’) i went OVERBOARD.

schlatt- it was one of those normal work days for him; editing and playing the same clip over and over again until he deemed it perfect. you, on the other hand, found this pointless and decided to go bother him.

“jayyyyyy”

he wouldn’t even move, knowing your exact objective. he’d just let out one of those disappointed parental sighs. you’d peer into the room and quietly patter into the once spare bedroom that was now schlatt’s streaming/editing/whatever-else room. as you walked up behind him, you placed both of your palms firmly onto his shoulders and nuzzled your cheek into his, now longer, hair. inhaling deeply, you pressed a kiss to the crown of his head.

“i’m busy.”

he knew he couldn’t keep you off for long after you let out a pitiful whine. schlatt let out a sigh as his eyes fluttered closed and spun around in his chair to face you. he stared at you with an inquisitive look. you smiled, knowing you had gotten your way as your eyes flickered down to his lap, then back up to his. he shook his head.

“toots, i’m busy.”

he could repeat it until the end of time as you climbed into his lap. he gave in reluctantly as one arm wrapped around the small of your back to keep you steady. as he attempted to finish his video, you whined impatiently as you played with the neckline of his t-shirt.

“can you please get off my lap? you’re distracting me.”

“but you’re so much prettier from this angle”

he couldn’t argue with that.

charlie- as you got ready for bed, you could hear charlie humming to himself in the bedroom. just as you had finished brushing your teeth, you trotted into the bedroom and sat on the bed. you observed charlie as he tidied up the room, still humming to himself. as he laid down beside you, the humming ceased and his head plopped into your lap, his arms behind his head. you chuckled and pressed a lingering kiss to the center of his forehead. when you pulled away, you found him gazing at you. his eyes were so full of love; an adoring grin gracing his lips.

“char, you’ve got to get your head out of my lap, it’s bed time.”

he just continued to look at you as he formulated the perfect thing to say.

“but you look so pretty from this angle- n-not that you don’t look pretty all the time, im just saying that-“

you shut him up with a kiss.

ted- ted was all about domestic moments with you; everything from cooking dinners to going on dates that gave him butterflies though you had been together for years. tonight was movie night, yet you had other plans. instead of watching the movie that ted was very much interested in, you were gazing at him. the way his nose sloped down and was so cute. the way his eyes gleamed in the light of the television. he was perfect. just as you were bathing in his features, you didn’t realize how close you had gotten to him; your face inches away from his cheek. you pressed a small kiss to it and crawled into his lap for better access. before you could go any further, ted chuckled and tried to push you away, his view obstructed.

“honey pot, i can’t see. you’ve got to get off.”

you pouted and stood your ground as you pressed lingering kisses all along his face and down his neck.

“you.” kiss “just.” kiss “look.” kiss “so.” kiss “pretty.” kiss “from here.”

ted smiled and chuckled breathlessly, before taking his glasses off and sliding them onto the table. he laid down and pulled you with him as he pressed a firm kiss to your lips.

he really didn’t care if he missed the movie.

wilbur- will was a sunday morning enjoyer. he’d have his old battered book in one hand and the other drawing mindless shapes across your half asleep figure in bed. just as he was about to flip the page with his hand on you, you whined and pulled it back down. he looked at you for a moment, piecing your features together, before showing a gentle smile and placing his book down on the bed.

“s’wrong, love?”

his voice was sweet and like caramel; dripping from his lips ever-so gently. you could just melt as his hand continued moving across your collarbones and shoulders mindlessly. you huffed and nodded your head to his lap.

“i’m almost done with this chapter, not now, alright?”

you let out a whine in protest as he chuckled quietly and picked his book back up, the movements on your chest growing lazy. you knew you could push him. you scooted your head into his lap, gazing up at him from underneath his book. your eyes shined like stars; he was beautiful. wilbur let out a lighthearted sigh as he set his book down once again;

“darling, d’ya mind getting your head off my lap?”

you just shook your head, your eyes flickering to his slightly parted lips, then back up to his caramel eyes.

“you look much prettier from down here”

masterlist

[stuffeddeer]

okay but..... pathetic yearning beast!stalkerzai... he's so quiet abt his obsession with u making up any excuse to have u around for subordinate purposes and when ur not around him he makes sure he can still keep tabs on u AHHH hes so sad and so smitten

"pathetic" i dont need to hear any more. im on board.

The continuous knocking on your apartment door leaves you anxious, quickly pulling on a comfy sweatshirt before answering the door. A breeze flies into the room, causing you to shiver, before you make eye contact with,

"Why aren't you at work today?" Dazai crosses his arms, an angry expression on his face. Though, the pout he wears causes it to be less intimidating than he'd normally be.

You glance into your apartment briefly, still feeling chilly while exposed to the outside air. "Um... I don't work?"

"You always work."

"Right. Which is why I have today off." Awkwardly, you itch your arm. "Am I… needed, Boss?"

Dazai sighs before walking into your apartment (with no invitation) and closes your own door behind him. "You're freezing."

"I'm slightly chilled," you shrug, brushing off the notion. Any other subordinate wouldn't dare correct the boss of the Port Mafia, but he'd always been more lenient with you - supposedly because you ‘aren’t as dumb’ as the rest. "But that's what the hoodie is for."

Without another word, Dazai plops down onto your couch, making a show of looking around your apartment. It’s tiny - the whole thing barely the size of his office at HQ — and Dazai wonders if you’d rather move in with him. For more space, of course. And he guesses you’d be saving on rent that way, too.

“How do you know where I live?” You ask curiously. Sure, it’s probably somewhere in your files, but your boss never seemed like the type to care.

Shrugging, he murmurs, “It’s my job.”

You want to make this visit quick, but kicking out your boss didn’t seem like a smart idea. “Are you thirsty? Would you like a cup of tea?..”

Yes, Dazai wants to try your tea. Just because you’re his subordinate, and he needs to make sure it’s up to par. What if he needs you to serve tea to some associates in the future? “I’d love one.”

Biting back a sigh, you fill your kettle before placing it on the stove, watching as your old gas stove flickers on. Silence hangs between you two - you had no intention of carrying the conversation when he just barged in uninvited.

Dazai seems to have a similar idea, sitting laxly on your couch and waiting for his tea. You pour one cup, uninterested in making one yourself, before placing it on the coffee table in front of him. “Sugar? Milk?”

“This is fine, thanks.” He takes a sip. Heavenly, he’s sure. Well, all tea tastes the same, but something about it coming from your hands… delectable. It’s as though he can taste the love you must pour into every cup.

Mouth shut, you take a seat on the chair across from him. “May I ask, sir, why are you here? Am I needed?” The question is posed once again as you hope for a quick resolution. Kicking out your boss is wrong, but hopefully he’ll read between the lines and show himself out - the same way he showed himself in.

A long sip of tea permeates the otherwise silent room. He’s doing this on purpose, you’re sure of it.

“…I was worried,” he mumbles into the mug, sound muffled and quiet.

“Sorry?”

“You should be,” he replies, uninterested in repeating himself. “I needed you today, only to find out you vanished into thin air.”

“I didn’t run, if that’s what you’re implying,” your eyes narrow. You would not be mistaken for a traitor.

“No, no,” he grins. You were at your most entertaining when you became combative. Dazai much prefers you like this rather than subservient. “You took today off.”

Correcting the boss of the Port Mafia was risky, but, “You gave me today off. A month ago, after that mission, you told me to pick a day to relax.”

That’s… true. It was a strenuous mission, and while Dazai made sure to keep you out of the fray, he thought a gift like that would make you feel touched and indebted to him. Annoyingly, he’d nearly forgotten, since Dazai had planned on reneging at the last minute to trap you with him. For your work ethtic, of course.

A pout graces his lips, unhappy at your disappearance from his side. And that he had no rebuttal to it. “Well, I still need you. I made dinner reservations for two accidentally, and the restaurant is rather strict. You need to come with. The meal will be comped, of course."

“Sir, I don’t— “

“Don’t want your job?” His eyes narrow, pout vanishing immediately. You had to go along with it. “I’m sure you don’t mean that, over something as silly as a nice dinner.”

“...Of course, sir.” You tug on the strings of your hoodie, wanting to emphasize that you aren't exactly dressed for something 'nice.' "What time am I expected?"

Dazai has to stop himself from swooning. How adorable. Well, it’s not you that’s adorable, of course. It’s the juxtaposition of such n oversized hoodie on you that he finds adorable, not you yourself. Definitely. “We can leave now, actually. Get changed, please. I wouldn't say there's a dress code, but it's not a 'hoodie' establishment."

Rather than lashing out at him for the snide comment, you choose to bite your tongue and head into your bedroom.

Exhausted was too light a word to describe how you felt. Donned in a 'nice' outfit that was rather uncomfortable, you stood outside in the cold air and harsh breeze as Dazai suggested to the host to let him in. This bastard didn't have reservations for one, much less two.

After the manager is called over and recognizes Dazai, you're quickly ushered in beside him. Dazai pulls out a seat at a secluded table in the back, gesturing for you to sit. "Come."

Without a second thought, you sit in the very seat he'd pulled out, stifling a yawn as he pushes you in. You’re Dazai's best employee - he must keep you close at all times. Which is why he takes advantage of your position as his subordinate to orders you waste your day off in a fancy restaurant across from him. If you want time off of work, you’ll have to spend it with him - just so he can keep an eye on you, of course.

[lotus-pear]

i think you guys are onto smth..

i unironically got invested in this HELP

[writingduhh]

Chuckle Sammy || Falling Asleep In His Lap (HC)

(In this HC you fall asleep on their lap at a party / get together)

Leave me some detailed or vague fic requests or HC ideas plz I’m all out and I need some inspiration 😭😭😭

❥ Jschlatt:

▷ The second he notices you’re asleep he goes protection mode.

▷ He won't allow anyone within a 5-foot radius of you, fearing that their presence might wake you.

▷ He knows how hard you’ve been working lately and insists that you catch up on sleep, even if it’s at a party.

▷  Whenever someone close to you makes an obnoxiously loud noise, he'll respond with a stern glare and a finger to his lips.

▷ He tenderly traces soothing shapes on your back or arms with his fingertips.

▷ Definitely takes this opportunity to take some silly pictures. Using Snapchat filters or just terrible angles and lighting

▷ He will take some wholesome pictures too, of course. Spamming his snapchat story with your face.

▷ As the night progresses, and people get louder he makes the call to head home.

▷ He doesn't bother waking you up; instead, he simply scoops you up in his arms, carefully carrying you out to the car.

▷ On the drive home, he ensures the car stays at the perfect temperature, keeps the music volume low, and skillfully navigates around any potholes.

▷ Once home he takes it upon himself to get you ready and into bed.

Once home, he takes it upon himself to get you ready for bed. Carrying you inside from the car, he softly lays you down on your shared bed, while he rummages around the closet to find one of his hoodies for you to wear. Gently he’ll change you out of your party outfit and into his oversized hoodie, possibly waking you up in the process.

“Hm? Where are we?” You mumble very confused by the chnage in surroundings.

“Shh we’re home now toots, let’s finish getting you ready for bed.”

You easily complied as he instructed you to lift your arms, then he pulled his hoodie over you.

"There we go," he says, his voice now deeper as he too was growing tired.

Together you both cuddled up together in your bed, falling asleep nearly instantly.

❥ Ted:

▷ Once he realizes you’re asleep he goes full mom mode.

▷ He'll take care to delicately adjust you, making sure you’re comfortable and preventing you from waking up sore.

▷ Looks around for a blanket. If he can’t find one he’ll use the jacket/button up off his own back to keep you warm.

▷ I can see him being the type to still mingling around at the party as you sleep on the couch but he’s never more than a few feet away from you, constantly looking over and checking in

▷ If he's not up and mingling with other partygoers, he's right by your side, talking casually to those closest to him, running his hands through your hair, and tracing your face as you lay on his legs.

▷ As the night winds down and people start to leave, he'll softly wake you, ensuring you're okay and offering a refreshing glass of water.

"Y/n, come on, it's time to go," Ted softly spoke, gently rubbing your shoulder.

"Hmm?" you grumbled, slowly sitting up from where you lay on the couch.

"It's getting late, hun. We should probably get going," he explained, offering you his extended hand.

Slowly, you grabbed his hand and rose to your feet, resting your body against his.

He let out a soft laugh before saying, "Would my tired baby like a piggyback ride?”

You nodded, rubbing your eyes. Swiftly, he bent down, allowing you to climb up onto him before securing your legs with his arms. Sleepily, you laid your head against his shoulder, the subtle movement of his walking occasionally swaying your tired head.

▷ Once to the car he softly places you in the passenger seat, buckling your seatbelt before placing a soft kiss on your forehead.



[phxntomsdusk]

chuckle sandwich!!! It can be romantic or platonic I don’t mind but just some fun with Chuckle Sandwich. Maybe ganging up on a guest for the show in a stupid bit or smth?

Playground insults - Chuckle Sandwich x GN!Reader

summary: just you throwing little kid insults at the boys

warnings: swearing, jschlatt threatening to kill you- (joke of course)

tags: @ax-y10 , @joviepog , @pheliiaa , @idontreallyexistyet , @rqvii , @haunted-headset , @average-vibe , @ivvees-blog , @vibestillaxxx (ask to be added!)

word count: 225

Being on the podcast always ended with chaos, especially today. You had been in a particular mood, dishing random and stupid insults at everyone whenever you got the chance.

“And then he-“ You quickly cut off Schlatt as he was talking, a small smile on your lips. “Who?” He looked at you with a confused expression, about to answer before you spoke again. “Asked.”

Charlie let out an annoyed sigh, sounding like a tired dad as he shook his head and placed it on the table. Ted held back a laugh. And Schlatt looked like he was about to kill you.

“Say that shit again, I’ll put a bullet through your head.” He held up a finger gun, pretending to shoot you. You knew he was only joking (or at least you hoped), but you still put up a scared act.

“Oh, no! Don’t kill me!” You covered your face, before peering through your fingers and laughed to yourself. “Maybe death would be nice.. wouldn’t have to see that thing you call a beard.”

Ted and Charlie looked at you as if you were insane, while Jschlatt got up with an offended expression, stepping off camera and shouted very loudly. “What the fuck?! Who invited them?!”

Ted looked over at him with a raised brow, before clicking his tongue. “You did, Schlatt. You invited them.”

[showf4lls]

ɞ ― make a home in you; chuckle sandwich

cw + info! fluff, headcanons / no CWs

includes! ted nivison + charlie slimecicle + jschlatt

dedication! @ivyinnit

notes! i’m currently trying to get over a breakup and am kind of struggling w yearning atmo so this request (while old) was kind of perfect thank you for dropping into my askbox, ivy!! little update: it’s been so long since i’ve received this request, i know. it should’ve been easy to get it out quickly, but school absolutely melted me this semester. i know that ivy’s deactivated now, but in the case that she comes across it, i hope you enjoy beloved <3

TED

⎼ y’all schedule out laundry days together. it’s cute as fuck okok

⎼ forehead and cheek kisses while you’re on your way out the door

⎼ if he wakes up before you, he makes your morning drink of choice just the way you like it! though, he prefers to sleep in with you

⎼ if you don’t have any important plans for the day and you’ve set alarms just for the sake of waking up at a certain time, he turns them all off before you wake up. he wants to give you an opportunity to rest as much as you need to; your body will wake up when it’s ready

⎼ brunch dates! while you guys prefer to sleep in together, you alternate between sleeping in and waking up at a reasonable hour depending on your plans. ted really likes taking you out to brunch and just walking around window shopping with you after

⎼ if either of you are going somewhere important, the other will help them get ready and run through a mental checklist with them before they go in order to make sure the person leaving has absolutely everything they need

⎼ y’all are constantly doing bits. it’s kind of confusing for your friends, but neither of you care much because you’re just having a great time

⎼ ted is an absolute gentleman always, not just in the honeymoon phase. constantly opening doors for you, helping you put your sweater on when you’re leaving the house, opening the car door for you. stuff like that

⎼ he rubber ducks for you a lot. just sits down near you and listens, letting you work out your issues by talking it out without feeling awkward about it

⎼ he’s just overall a great listener and very in-tune with your needs. only gives advice and input when you ask for it, but he always makes an effort to validate your feelings. holds you when you need him to and steps back when he senses that you need space. also really good at problem solving and helping out when you get overwhelmed or have sensory overload

– when you have bad days, he has a tendency to go above and beyond. he cooks dinner for you, makes sure your comfy clothes are all washed and clean, and generally just makes sure you have to do as little as possible so that you have the proper space to calm down

CHARLIE

– you guys have rapid fire joke contests together, usually late at night when you’re sitting on kitchen counters, snacking. you go back and forth until either the two of you are laughing so hard that it would be physically impossible to keep going, or someone can’t come up with a joke fast enough

– you try to stay on the sleep cycle but you both tend to get a little out of whack every once in a while, so you have these phases of going to sleep at a decent hour and then going to sleep when the sun is about to come up

– as such, you guys have these phases of making spontaneous runs to the grocery store or gas station to get snacks, usually cereal for some reason. you get whatever you want and charlie never lets you pay for any of it. on the later nights, you guys sometimes experiment with new flavors of things or weird snack combinations

– he has a thing about always making sure you’re warm enough. you’re a little chilly? he’s pulling his sweater off and pulling it over your head. once you’re all comfy and settled, he’s on his way to turn on the heater. your feet are cold? he’s running to get you a pair of fuzzy socks and a blanket in case your legs are cold too. even when you’re about to leave the house -- it’s colder than 50 outside? he’s scrambling around the house, gathering gloves and scarves and beanies for you to take with you in case you get cold, even if they don’t match. no other options but you’re still cold? mans is wrapping himself around you, trying to use his body heat to warm you up himself. he hates when you’re chilly and uncomfortable :[

– brings you home little presents all the time. literally anything that remind him of you. you have a collection of buttons and keychains that he’s seen while walking through shops. he also steals cool props from videos and projects to give to you. you have a little collection going

– loves pda all the time, but not always cuddling (which can sound confusing, but let me explain). he likes casual pda with you around the house, whether it be you resting your feet in his lap while you both lounge across the couch, sitting on the floor and leaning back on his legs while you watch a movie, him putting a hand on the small of your back while he moves around/behind you, holding onto your hand until you’ve walked out of reach, gently pressing his knuckles into your back while you’re laying on the other side of the bed and facing away from him. likes to be touching you when he can be but in little ways that aren’t super overwhelming (mostly because i feel like you’d both be too fidgety to just cuddle)

– some of your most domestic moments are spent in the kitchen, usually cooking dinner together. it’s light and warm and it feels so much like home that you sometimes find yourself questioning if it’s all real. he’s right there to tell you it is. but back to dinner. he loves cooking for you, and you love cooking for him. it’s all laughter and winding down from work days and gentle hugs and swaying together as he hums for you

SCHLATT

– it’s a little hard to find domestic moments with schlatt off the top of your head, but they’re there when you look for them. they’re quiet, but they’re ever present

– he sleeps a lot, meaning that you usually wake up before him. if he’s sleeping light enough to hear you get up, he’ll roll over, half asleep, wrap his arms around your middle, and pull you back into his chest, mumbling a groggy “ten more minutes, babe. i’ll be up then, jus’ ten more minutes.” it’s never just ten more minutes

– he picks you up and carries you around a lot. not in the typical way. if he thinks you’re working yourself too hard, he’ll grab you from your desk and throw you over his shoulder, dropping you onto the couch and forcing you to watch a movie with him. or you’ll be sleepily making yourself a snack in the kitchen and he’ll grab you from behind, just wrapping his arms around your middle and picking you up. he carries you, complaining and squirming, the whole way to your room and tells you it’s nap time

– you guys have a lot of nap dates. it’s an easy, sweet block of time for you guys to spend together, hazy and together while napping on and off. if one of you wakes up, you get to fondly watch the other nap until you fall asleep again. watch the easy rise and fall of their chest, run a hand through their hair, trace gentle patterns on their skin, play with their fingers, listen to the beating of your heart

– you do the dishes together. you wash and schlatt dries. sometimes you get into towel fights or start flicking water at each other with your fingers

– schlatt follows you out of bed when you get up in the middle of the night. he’d never admit it, but he has a hard time sleeping without you. he hates waking up to a cold bed. so when the clock blinks 3:17 and he feels around to find nothing beside him, even if your side of the bed is still warm, he huffs and gets up. pads through the house with puffy, tired eyes until he finds you. wraps his arms around you from behind and rests his chin on your head. “what are you doin’ outta bed?” he never waits for your response, just starts ushering you back to your room

– really likes seeing you in his clothes, again, not that he would ever admit it. he’ll purposely “forget” to do your laundry so that you have to start wearing his hoodies, tee shirts, sweats, etc. it just gives him the warm fuzzies, seeing you be so comfortable and cozy in his clothes

– hangs on you a lot on days when there’s nothing to do. he’s pretty idle about it, too, kind of like a character accessory. sometimes you just have to go around the house doing your stuff with this big man hanging off of you because you don’t have the heart to tell him to leave you alone for an hour or two to get your work done

[sentientcave]

Fuck-ass Mohawk

Contains: Alcohol, smoking (cigarettes and cannabis), Soap being Soap, Ghost being Ghost, uninvited touching, tall fem reader

Short little thing about Johnny liking it a bit when you're a bitch to him (And Ghost likes it too)

868 Words ~ MDNI

You’d rather stay home and play board games, but Laurie had convinced everyone that it was a good night for clubbing. You hated clubs— The noise, the crowds, the smell of sweat and alcohol and hormones— and spent the better part of club nights standing outside chain-smoking, or crammed into a dirty bathroom stall holding back a friend’s hair as she threw up blue curacao because she didn’t listen to you when you told her to eat dinner before going out. Tonight didn’t look like it was going to end up with anyone puking their guts up, at least. Laurie’s flirting with a gorgeous hunk with a devastating smile, and Alex and Hannah are dancing, so you go out the side door into the alley for some fresh air. Or air, anyway, since the alley’s where folks go to smoke. You light a joint, because at least that will dull the effect that the sound is having on your head. It’s getting close to midnight, which at least means the night is almost over, so long as someone doesn’t drag you along to some weirdo’s house. “Hey, wha’s a bonnie thing like ye doin’ out here all alone?” A voice purrs in your ear. You jump, surprised that he could get so close with out you noticing him, especially once you turn and really look at him. He’s huge, not that tall, probably your height when you’re not wearing boots (You have about an inch and a half on him in your shit-kickers), but broad and way more muscled than anyone has any reason to be, wrapped in a too-tight shirt, and smiling at you, bright blue eyes fixed on yours with unnerving intensity. He pats your shoulder. “Didnae mean to scare ye, lass, just wanted to say hello.” You take a big step to the side, establishing a new bubble of personal space without him in it. “Well, hello,” you say dismissively. “Goodbye.” There’s a snort from a few meters away, a big fellow with a kn95 mask dangling on one ear, his hand up in front of his face, a cigarette clamped between his fingers. “Och, dinnae be like tha’, hen.” “Don’t like it?” you ask, glaring at him. “Go away. Plenty of girls in there’ll go for whatever all this is.” A sweeping, unimpressed glance from his boots and ripped jeans up to his stupid mohawk would usually do the trick, but it only made this fellow smile wider. “No’ enough fer ya? I can sweeten tha deal some. The big fella doesnae mind sharin’ a sweet lass with me noo and again. There’s plenty of ye ta go around.” “Johnny,” the big fellow in question says sternly. His mask is back in place, covering the lower half of his face. “Dun’t look like she’s interested.”

“Tha’s where you’re wrong, LT. She just doesna want to admit it. Hen’s got pride. Wants to make me work for it, right lass?” He winks at you. “No. Don’t like your fuck-ass mohawk.” You puff on your joint, keeping your face still while he splutters, indignant. “Fuck-ass mohawk?” he asks. “What do ye mean by tha’?” “I mean it looks like you have a contentious relationship with your father,” you say. Maybe you’re being a bit mean, but it’s always fun to take a cocky fucker down a peg or two. “I don’t fuck with men with daddy issues. Most of ‘em are cops or military lads.” The big guy— LT?— laughs aloud at that while Johnny’s still looking at you with his mouth hanging open. The side door opens, and your friends pile out, Laurie arm in arm with her hunk, and Hannah and Alex clinging to handsome fellows of their own. “There you are,” Laurie says. “We’re going back to Hannah’s. Are you coming?” “Uh. I guess.” Laurie beams at you, and looks up at her hunk. “Kyle, do you need to find your friends?” “Nah. These lads right here.” He gestures at Johnny and LT. with a grin. “Knew Ghost would be out here, and Soap’s always followin’ him around like the big puppy he is.” “Ah’m no’!” You fall into step at the rear of the group. You’ll probably head home rather than join them, but Hannah’s flat is on the way to your own. Johnny and his handler flank you, matching your stride when you slow down or speed up. Annoying. “So what, is the big guy your replacement daddy?” you ask. “Wha— No!” Johnny says hotly. “He’s just my lieutenant.” “Could be your daddy, if you like,” Ghost says, putting a heavy hand on the back of your neck. “Got a thing for caustic little cunts.” “Oh fuck off,” you say, trying to shove his hand off. His grip squeezes a little tighter, and you try to ignore the way that core clenches around nothing. You channel the heat into anger, and dig your nails into his wrist hard. “Don’t fucking touch me.” He grunts, but doesn’t seem all that affected by your claws. “Look at you, ‘issin’ and spittin’ like a puffed up alley cat. S’cute. But save it for later, eh? Don’t want you to tire yourself out too early.”

[rcmclachlan]

wip wednesday

From THEE most self-indulgent thing I've ever written:

When Tommy walks into the living room, Jee-Yun is bent over the couch and kicking her legs. She smiles smugly. "I beat you!"

"Yeah, you smoked me," he agrees. "You going to hog the whole thing or can I sit down too?"

"It's all mine!" Giggling, she shimmies onto the couch on her belly and spreads out. She then pushes up with a disgruntled look. "I don't like Uncle Buck's couch."

"Jee-Yun, I'll give you twenty bucks if you tell him that."

A couple of weeks ago he gave Evan a handjob on that couch and then had to see a chiropractor about it—not to mention the leather was so slippery that Evan slid off the damn thing mid-orgasm and nearly gave himself a concussion on the coffee table.

[fishfingersandscarves]

little cover for Beautiful, Strange, and New by @moorishflower bc it just ended and was wonderful

[waldos-art]

Come and Get Me - By: Rindecision

My second collab for the Stranger Things Reverse Big Bang with @rindecisions

I was so lucky to get to work with two authors for this image! Rindecision's story was a blast to get to read ahead of time and share ideas together. Do you want some boxing? Some sexy sexy but actually they're boxing boxing? Check it out!!

[pequins]

munch schlatt hc…… also charlie if you may…….

(can i be 🍄anon?)

ofc :) welcome to jynation 🍄 anon!

eater jschlatt headcanons

nsfw ahead , mdni .

• to put it simply, he’s an all you can eat buffet type of guy. he is not for the faint of heart, this man has a oral fixation like crazy, eats it like he’s on death row and got his final meal.

• he’ll never admit it, but hes definitely came in his pants more than once from it before.

• no matter how many times you cum, you’re not getting up until he’s done. if you try, he’ll simply slap your puffy cunt, wrap his arms around your legs and pull you back to his mouth.

• loves to feel you gripping his hair, especially man bun schlatt the harder you pull the louder his muffled moans get.

• looks absolutely pathetic when he’s done, the entire lower half of his face wet, a string of your slick dripping from his puffy lips, looking at you with his glossy eyes and flushed face.

• trust, he gets more out of it than you do. after an especially stressful or busy day, its all he thinks about. ( insert “its like a reward” sound here )

• everything depends on his day and if he’s feeling extra playful or not, he’s not really the kind to be soft and gentle but when he gets into a particularly rough mood, things get animalistic.

• he’ll do it anywhere. party bathroom? in the car? on the kitchen counter? he doesn’t give a fuck, bonus points if there’s people around and you have to stay quiet.

• and if you tease him, act like a brat or do anything to purposely annoy him? he’s tying your hands behind your back and edging you for hours. dont worry, you’ll be done when he feels like it.

• oh you’re on your period? 🧛🏻‍♂️🧛🏻‍♂️🧛🏻‍♂️

• mustache. all im saying.

• this man makes more noise than you, the vibrations from his groans make it hard not to cum on the spot.

ill link charlie’s here when it’s posted <3

[unlust-fvck]

“can i kiss you?”

will + chuckle sandwich plsss

i got SO EXCITED FOR THIS ONE SHUT UP

schlatt- schlatt had taken you out drinking. it was a common occurrence for the two of you every friday night. unbeknownst to schlatt, you’d had a crush on him ever since you had met him at a streaming event four years ago, yet you were too scared to say a single word about it due to his loud and obnoxious demeanor. the two of you remained friends after clicking so well.

unbeknownst to you, he felt the same exact way.

after a few too many whisky sours for the two of you, he looked up at you. his gaze lingered for a long time. his eyes traced the heavy contours of your face from the poor lighting in the dingy bar. as the two of you sat next to each other in the booth, his mouth opened to speak, but faltered. this small notion caused you to glance at him from behind your glass.

“hey,”

he kept it short as he set his glass down. his eyes scanned your face for any sort of reaction as he cupped your cheek. your face was heated by his touch as you leant into it and placed your glass down next to his. the two of you were affectionate friends as is, but something was different with the way his tender hand held you so gentle and his eyes looked at you with so much adoration.

“can i kiss you?”

as you let out an exhale, you leant forward and closed the small gap between the two of you. you hoped it wasn’t a dream as your mouth was filled with the taste of whiskey, adding to the same taste in your own mouth.

he got his answer.

charlie- charlie was so polite. he had always been. he was the type of boy to buy flowers for you everytime the past ones began to wilt. he was the type of boy to open doors for you and insist he could do it every time you protested. he was a gentleman and a big goofball on top of it all.

currently, the two of you sat on the back porch of your small house in the country. the sun was just peeking over the horizon as it greeted the two of you. charlie had insisted on waking up early to see the sunrise, just like he had every sunday for the past two years. no matter how tired the two of you were, he would always drag you to the porch; coffee and a blanket in his hands as he ushered you out.

as you rested your head on his shoulder, almost feeling yourself fall asleep, he nudged you awake. you lifted your head with a look that said ‘i hate you.’ he just smiled at you, his eyes full of nothing but love for the person sitting next to him.

“can i kiss you? please?”

you pondered for a moment jokingly, before nodding and leaning forward. he met you in the middle and his hand came up to your jaw instinctively. it was sweet and chaste.

you were just two lovers sharing a kiss as they watched the sunrise.

ted- as much as ted loved being the active type, he couldn’t argue with just laying around with the person he loved most. as he laid on the couch, his head resting on the arm rest and the record player humming along steadily in the background, he couldn’t be more content with you on his chest. your chest was pressed against his, your chin resting on his sternum as your arms wrapped tightly around his mid section.

as you let out a heavy exhale indicating you were on the brink of sleep. ted looked down at you for a moment, a fond smile growing on his face as he raked a hand through your hair.

“love bug, don’t fall asleep on me now,”

you looked up at him with hazy eyes, your mouth drawn up into a gentle smile. he held your head up for you as his other hand ran across your back lightly in repetitive motions.

“can i please kiss you?”

you gazed at him for a moment, his question processing in your mind before you rolled your eyes playfully.

“if you must.”

wilbur- as you peered into the shared bedroom, you saw will sat on the bed, guitar in hand as he strummed gentle chords in no particular order. he looked up at you, a fond smile gracing his lips. you pattered over to the bed and sat beside him, observing his calculated movements that were utterly perfect.

he looked up at you finally, a wide smile on his face as he set his guitar down, opposite to you.

“i can’t concentrate when you’re looking at me.”

you just giggled and wrapped your arms around him as you pulled him backwards onto the bed in a bone crushing hug. his smile grew as he chuckled, returning the hug gracefully.

“can i kiss you?”

it was an odd question for you to be asking, for will loved your kisses almost more than he loved you. he nodded, blushing like a teenager as you leant forward and placed your lips gently onto his.

will was lovestruck.

masterlist

[catn4pp]

Schlatt x Reader | Needy Nights

an: I’m finally backk! ive been extremely busy with school and a production we just finished, hope u love thiss!

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It was another late night at the office, and you found yourself staying behind to finish up some last-minute tasks. As you typed away at your computer, you heard the familiar sound of footsteps approaching. You glanced up to see none other than Jschlatt himself, looking as exhausted as ever but with a hint of something else in his eyes.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he said, his voice gruffer than usual.

“Jay? Burning the midnight oil again?” you replied, offering him a small smile.

He nodded, shuffling over to your desk and plopping down in the chair next to you. “Yeah, seems like it’s become a habit.”

You couldn’t help but notice the way he leaned a little closer to you than usual, his warmth radiating off him. It wasn’t uncommon for Schlatt to be affectionate, but tonight there was an unmistakable neediness in his demeanor.

“Is everything alright?” you asked, concern lacing your tone.

He let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Honestly, I just needed to see you. Been a rough day, y’know?”

Your heart went out to him, understanding all too well the pressures he faced. Without hesitation, you reached out and placed a comforting hand on his arm. “I’m here for you, Schlatt. Whatever you need.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he looked at you, his eyes softening. “Thanks, sweetheart. You always know how to make me feel better.”

The atmosphere between you shifted, the air thick with unspoken words and tension. Before you could fully process what was happening, Schlatt leaned in and pressed his lips to yours in a surprisingly gentle kiss. It was as if all the pent-up emotions and desires he had been carrying melted away in that moment.

As the kiss deepened, you found yourself losing track of time, completely immersed in the intoxicating presence of the man in front of you. In that small office space, surrounded by the hum of computers and the glow of city lights outside, nothing else mattered except the connection you shared with Schlatt.

Eventually, the need for air also mattered, both of you left breathless and wanting more. Schlatt rested his forehead against yours, a contented smile playing on his lips.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “For everything.”

You simply smiled back, knowing that in moments like these, words were unnecessary. All that mattered was the bond you shared with the man who had stolen your heart, needy or not.

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