schlatt ‘fan’ or wtv the fuck they’re calledsecret sideblog | nineteen
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perhaps charlie next with the chokeholds if it hasn’t already been done? 👉🏼👈🏼
oohhh YES i was WAITING for someone to ask for Charlie!!
warnings: NSFW || breathplay/choking || PiV || fem!reader || daddy kink || reader passes out
────୨ৎ────
Charlie is the one that suggests the chokehold, you kinda stare at him, half in shock and half trying to stop yourself from ripping his clothes off right there.
that doesn’t last long, promptly thirty seconds after you recover from the shock, you’re in his lap ripping the aforementioned clothes off.
soon he has you bent over, on display for him as he fucks your brains out. not like you were thinking in the first place, just the way he likes you.
“You ready, precious?” he coos. you nod stupidly and enthusiastically as he hooks his bicep around your throat and squeezes. your eyes roll into the back of your head and you let out a strangled moan.
“Daddy!” you’re voice is strained and higher pitched than usual. a nearly animalistic groan rips out of Charlie.
“Oh fuck. Look at you struggle.” he moans. he couldn’t help himself, he wraps his other arm around your neck, choking you out with both of his delicious biceps. at this point you’re being held up by him and him alone, he has your back in a deep arch and your arms are scrambling trying to cling onto him for any sort of additional physical support.
your vision gets blurry as you’re about to cum, the sound of Charlie moaning in your ear is all you can focus on.
“Cum for me, baby.” - “It’s okay if you pass out. I’ll take care of you.” - “Don’t think about it. Let it happen.” - “You’re so fuckin’ pretty when you’re brainless.”
when you cum, you cum hard. it takes every fiber of your being to stay conscious. Charlie follows soon after, being mindful of how tightly he was holding your neck. he quickly lets go to catch himself before he collapses his entire body weight onto you, but lets you hit the bed in the process.
“Shit! Sorry princess!” Charlie scoops you up in his arms and rolls you onto his chest. he notices your still dazed expression as you try your hardest to keep your eyes open.
“Shhh just let go baby, I’ve got you.” he chuckles as your vision fades.
────୨ৎ────
OH IM LOSING MY MIND
~bunnie
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Imagine, if you will, virgin gf whos just so fucking horny for Schlatt, girl is down BAD, for this man so much so that Schlatt has to be like “woah hey let’s slow down okay dont wanna hurt yourself toots” (Toots🤤🤤) and has to like pin (gently but still pinning) you down and talk to you in that like (idk what to call it) like “gentle parent” (???) voice so you don’t hurt yourself cause hes just so BIG and he could also probably potentially hurt a partner who HAS had sex before cause of his size so his partner whose never had sex? Oh hes terrified he might tear you in half of he isn’t careful.
╭﹐✦˚₊· 𖤐 * baby’s first time ⋆.ೃ࿔*:・ ╮ imagine: third date. a movie. a kiss. a girl too far gone to think straight—and a man trying his hardest not to ruin her. ╰﹒♡₊˚๑ *✧﹒✦ ࣪ ˖ ┊
﹒₊✦ a/n: inspired by a not-so-little ask about a virgin reader down bad for schlatt ♡ i may have wandered into tenderness territory, and,,, i'm not sorry!!
warnings: explicit content (MDNI !!!) · virgin reader · size kink · dom/sub dynamics (soft) · thigh riding · fingering · handjob · creampie · aftercare
enjoy, ma luvs ♡
✧✧✧
the door clicks open, and schlatt steps aside like he’s done this a hundred times before.
“welcome to casa de big guy,” he says dryly. “wipe your feet, don’t judge the furniture, and if anything smells like axe body spray, it wasn’t me.”
you laugh, stepping inside. “real strong opening. totally reassuring.”
his place is… honestly, kind of nice. not in a curated, architectural digest way. just warm. lived in. the couch is stupidly big, the rug doesn’t match, and there’s an open bottle of something expensive on the kitchen counter. but it feels like him.
he closes the door behind you. “you want a drink?”
you nod. “water’s fine.”
“boring,” he says, already heading to the kitchen. “love that.”
you roll your eyes and tug off your shoes. he’s still in his button-up from dinner, sleeves rolled up, top buttons undone. the chain at his neck catches the light when he moves, and your brain short-circuits just a little.
you perch on the edge of the couch. try not to look like you’re imagining things you absolutely shouldn’t be imagining this early into a relationship.
he brings you a bottle of water and flops down beside you like gravity owes him something.
“so,” he says, stretching out with one arm behind you, “movie or mario kart?”
you glance at him. “you’re letting me choose?”
“no,” he says. “just seeing what you’d pick before i put on something i like.”
you scoff. “you’re the worst.”
he grins—wide and smug. “yeah, but i’ve got surround sound.”
you snatch the remote before he can reach for it.
“put on something you like,” you say innocently. “let me see what kind of freak you really are.”
he gives you a look. the kind that makes your stomach flip.
“careful,” he says, leaning back, spreading his legs just slightly. “you might find out.”
you raise a brow. “oh no. not—i mean, your taste.”
schlatt laughs, low and lazy. “you think i’ve got bad taste, toots?”
“i think you have questionable judgment and a subscription to every streaming service but HBO.”
“jealousy’s ugly on you,” he mutters, shifting closer, one hand sliding behind your neck like it’s nothing. “good thing you look cute in everything else.”
your breath catches.
that look in his eyes—just amused enough to be dangerous—makes it hard to think.
he leans in slow, gives you enough time to pull away.
but you don’t.
he leans in, and when those lips meet yours—it’s not just a peck. it’s hungry. it’s claiming. it’s everything you’ve been craving since date one.
your fingers tangle in his shirt. his hand cups your jaw. every nerve in your body jumps.
you press closer, breath colliding, wanting it to go further—but just as you're about to lose control, he pulls back.
with the most smug ass smile you've ever encountered.
you’re blinking, breath caught, body still hot.
he taps your water bottle like he’s reminding you to hydrate. “told you i’ve got taste.”
you stare at him, deflated and fired up all at once.
he picks up the remote again. turns the volume up. settles back.
“so,” he says. "movie."
✧✧✧
you’re nestled into the corner of the couch now, tucked under his arm, legs draped over his lap like you’ve done this a hundred times.
the movie plays—low volume, muted light, something with a plot you’re not following.
you’re too focused on the way his thumb brushes the inside of your arm. the occasional squeeze at your waist. the weight of him beneath you.
you’re warm. a little sleepy. a lot horny.
and without realizing it, you start to move.
just the tiniest roll of your hips. back into his thigh.
barely anything.
but the friction makes your breath hitch.
you do it again.
and again.
you don’t even know you’re doing it until he shifts slightly beneath you—just enough to make you freeze.
“…you good, toots?”
your eyes snap open. “what?”
he tilts his head down, chin brushing your temple. his voice is low, soft. amused.
“you keep grinding on my leg like you’re trying to make coffee or something."
you go completely still.
a beat passes. then another.
and then—humiliated—you bury your face in his chest with a groan.
“oh my god. i wasn’t—i didn’t mean to—”
his hand rubs your back slowly. “i know.”
you peek up at him, mortified. “please tell me you’re not mad.”
“mad?” he huffs a laugh and grabs the remote, clicking the movie off. “sweetheart, i’m flattered.”
he sets the remote aside, then shifts so he can face you more fully. one arm still around your waist. the other rubbing your thigh—gentle, slow.
“but listen,” he murmurs. “i gotta be honest with you, alright?”
your stomach flips.
“yeah?” you ask, quiet.
his gaze drops—thigh, hand, then back to you.
“i’ve been doing this a long time,” he says, voice low and even. “you haven’t. i know that.”
you go a little rigid in his lap. “did i… say that?”
he huffs a laugh—low and knowing. “you didn’t have to.”
“okay, well—” you sit up straighter, shrug like it’s no big deal. “i mean, i’m not completely inexperienced—”
“no?”
“i’ve done stuff.”
“stuff.”
“yes, stuff.”
he tilts his head. “like?”
you blink. “like—like things.”
he’s smiling now. “specific things?”
“god, why are you interrogating me—”
“because you keep lying, sweetheart,” he says, gently. “and you’re really, really bad at it.”
you sputter. “i’m not—i’m not lying—”
“you moaned when i kissed your neck. Once. and your whole body went stiff the second my hand hit your thigh.” he leans in, eyes dark. “you haven’t done anything.”
you go silent.
he softens. “that’s not a problem. it’s just a fact.”
you glance away—embarrassed.
“...i didn’t want to seem totally clueless.”
“baby. i like you clueless.” he cups your jaw, tilts your face back to his. “i’m not tryna scare you off. i just—look, i’m a big guy. and i can be rough without meaning to. so if we’re gonna do this—if you ever wanna go there—i gotta know it’s not just because you’re all worked up and desperate for it. i gotta know it’s you. choosing it.”
you blink.
heart hammering.
because this is not what you expected.
he smiles a little at your expression. “that surprise you?”
you nod slowly. “i just—i didn’t think you’d care.”
his brow lifts. “toots,” he mutters. “you think i’m gonna risk splitting you in half just so i can blow my load five minutes faster?”
your face burns.
but you laugh, burying your face in his chest again.
he wraps both arms around you now. holding you close.
“tell me what you want, baby,” he says, voice lower now. slower. “not what you think i wanna hear. what you want.”
you swallow.
“i don’t know,” you whisper. “i just… i wanna feel you.”
he hums.
and you feel it—in his chest, under your hands.
“yeah?” he says softly. “you think you’re ready for that?”
you nod, but it’s hesitant. you’re still tucked close. still trembling a little.
he pulls back just enough to look at you.
his eyes are soft, but there’s heat behind them. serious heat.
“you ever ridden a thigh before?”
you blink. “ridden a… what?”
his lips twitch. “that’s a no.”
“i didn’t say no,” you protest, even as your brain scrambles for anything close. “i just—I mean, it’s not exactly common—”
“it is when you know what you’re doing.”
you stare at him. “and you just… sit on it?”
he chuckles. “no, baby. you grind.”
your mouth goes dry. “oh.”
he raises a brow, watching the realization hit you. “still wanna try?”
your throat’s dry. your fingers curl in the fabric of his shirt.
you nod.
“yeah,” you whisper. “okay.”
his smile is small. quiet. something between gentle and dangerous.
“attagirl.” he shifts beneath you, spreading his legs a little wider, patting his thigh. “c’mon, sweetheart. right here.”
you crawl over hesitantly, face burning, nerves crawling under your skin. the second your knees settle on either side of his leg, you realize just how big he really is.
your core is barely brushing his thigh.
you’re not even fully seated and you already feel stretched—high up, slightly off balance, comically small on top of him.
“is this… okay?” you ask quietly, looking down at him. “like—am i doing it right?”
he smiles—lazy, warm, and just a little crooked. his hands settle lightly on your hips.
“you’re perfect,” he says, thumbs stroking circles into your skin. “we’ll get you there.”
you start to move—tentative, cautious, rocking your hips forward just a little. the friction is barely there, but it already lights something up in your belly.
you shift again, trying to roll your hips in a smoother motion.
“…is this how you do it?” you ask. “i feel like i’m not…”
schlatt cuts you off with a quiet hum, and his hands tighten just slightly.
“hey. you don’t gotta know how,” he murmurs. “that’s what i’m here for.”
he lifts his thigh just a little under you, adjusting the pressure, guiding you forward with a slow tug at your hips.
“try that.”
you gasp. the contact is better. more direct.
“oh—oh, okay…”
you keep going. a little clumsier than you’d like. shifting, huffing, trying not to grind down too hard.
you look at him again. “sorry—i’m just—i don’t wanna mess it up.”
he chuckles under his breath, voice low and thick.
“baby, you’re not gonna break anything,” he says.
“but—you're so—i mean, your leg is—”
he tilts his head, smirking.
“what? big?”
you nod, mortified. “yeah. that.”
his voice dips even lower. “you ever stop to think what the rest of me might do to you if we’re not careful?”
your breath catches. you can’t answer.
he leans forward, mouth brushing your ear.
“trust me, toots,” he whispers. “you’re doin’ just fine.”
you’re trying—god, you’re trying—but every shift of your hips feels clumsy. your thighs are already shaking, and you can’t tell if it’s from the effort or the nerves or the fact that his hands haven’t left your waist since he put you there.
“i—i don’t know if i’m doing this right,” you mumble. “it feels good, but it’s not—like—how it’s supposed to be, right?”
schlatt’s eyes narrow slightly. not annoyed—just watching. reading you.
he shifts under you again, thigh flexing between your legs, dragging right where you need it.
“sweetheart,” he says, voice low and slow, “look at me.”
you do. hesitant. flushed. bottom lip caught between your teeth.
his hand cups your jaw gently—thumb brushing the corner of your mouth, just enough to make you still.
“you’re not here to perform,” he murmurs. “you’re here to feel. and feel good. got it?”
you nod, barely breathing.
“good girl.”
your breath hitches.
“you feel how wet you are right now?” he asks, one hand sliding from your waist to between your legs—pressing you down harder onto his thigh. you gasp. your hands clench at his shoulders.
“that’s what i care about,” he mutters. “not rhythm. not looking cute. just you, soaking my leg like it’s the only thing that’s ever made you feel good.”
you whimper, and he grins, a flash of teeth.
“yeah, that’s better,” he says. “that’s my girl.”
your hips start moving again. this time instinctively. not polished. not graceful. just needy.
“you hear those sounds you’re making?” he breathes, eyes locked on you. “you think i give a fuck how ‘right’ your hips are moving when you’re whimpering like that on my leg?”
your eyes flutter closed, head tipping back, and he grabs your waist again, guiding you now—gentle but firm.
“don’t stop now, baby,” he murmurs. “you’re doin’ perfect. get what you need from me.”
you’re getting there.
fast.
too fast.
your hips are stuttering now—small, frantic rolls, thighs trembling as you grind down hard enough that the seam of your underwear is soaked through.
and still, his hands stay on you. firm. supportive. in charge.
“you gonna come like this?” he asks, voice a rough whisper against your ear. “just from my thigh?”
you nod—desperate, whimpering.
“i—i think so—feels so good—”
“you poor little thing,” he mutters, teeth brushing your cheek. “you wanna come that bad? just like that? just from rubbing yourself on me?”
your breath hitches. your hands claw at his shirt.
and then—
he stops you.
big hands wrapping tight around your waist, lifting you off his thigh before you can fall over that edge.
you whine—loudly—hips twitching, eyes wide, clit pulsing and unsatisfied.
“wha—why—?! schlatt—”
“uh-uh,” he cuts you off, voice calm but firm. “i felt you getting close. didn’t say you could come, did i?”
you shake your head, nearly crying with frustration.
he shifts you in his lap, laying you back gently against the cushions, kneeling between your legs now. and you feel it—how big he is, crouched over you, gaze dark, hands trailing slow up your thighs.
“you know what your problem is, baby?”
you shake your head, still breathing hard.
“you’re too busy thinking about what it’d be like to ride me,” he murmurs, hand sliding between your legs again. “aren’t you?”
your eyes go wide.
he chuckles—dark and amused.
“you were fuckin’ fantasizing. thinking about how good i’d feel inside you. weren’t you?”
you nod helplessly.
“yeah. that’s what i thought.” he hums. “bet you got a whole little movie going in your head, me on top of you. me inside you. ruining that tight little pussy before you even know what to do with it.”
you squirm under his gaze, but he’s already tugging at the tie around your waist. undoing your dress like it’s a gift he’s taking his sweet time unwrapping.
✧✧✧
“you don’t even know what you’re asking for, do you?”
you shake your head, breath shaky. “i just—i want to feel you.”
his expression softens—but only slightly.
“you will,” he says. “but you’re gonna feel my fingers first.”
he pulls your panties aside, thick fingers brushing through your soaked folds. you gasp—hips lifting instinctively.
“you’re so wet, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “all from my thigh? from grinding like a needy little thing?”
you nod, helpless.
he slips one finger in—slowly. carefully.
you moan—high and shocked, head tipping back.
“god, you’re tight,” he breathes. “clenching already and it’s just one.”
his free hand presses gently on your belly, keeping you grounded.
“this okay?” he asks. “want me to keep going?”
you nod frantically. “please, sir—”
he smiles at that. then adds a second finger.
you cry out, legs twitching as he stretches you open—slow, steady, mercilessly gentle.
he leans in close, voice right at your ear.
“you feel stretched?” he murmurs, voice low.
you nod, lips parted, struggling to stay still.
“mm.” he smirks. “and that’s just two fingers, toots.”
his other hand trails down your thigh, thumb stroking your skin like a reward. like praise. but his tone stays calm, clinical, almost condescending.
“you’re squeezin’ so tight, i can barely move,” he says. “and you were thinkin’ you could take my cock?”
you moan again—helpless, humiliated.
he chuckles softly. “gonna hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but you’re not even close. maybe if you were able to take four...”
his fingers press in deeper, curling just right—and you jolt, crying out, hands gripping the cushions like lifelines.
“shit—okay—okay—”
“you feel that?” he breathes. “that’s what a fraction of me feels like.”
you blink up at him, glassy-eyed. his shirt’s still buttoned, collar open. he hasn’t even rolled his sleeves down. meanwhile, you’re wrecked—basically naked, needy, completely undone.
he leans in, mouth at your ear.
“you’re not takin’ my cock, baby. you’re takin’ my fingers, and barely that.”
you whimper, shame heating your skin.
“and you’re doin’ your best, you are,” he soothes, voice soft now—mockingly tender. “but if i tried to fuck you tonight? you’d cry just from the tip.”
your hips twitch. you hate how wet you are from that—how your cunt clenches around his fingers like it agrees.
he feels it.
“ohhh,” he breathes, grinning. “you like that idea?”
you try to look away.
his hand grabs your jaw—gentle, but firm—and turns you back to face him.
“don’t look away now,” he murmurs. “you just squeezed around my fingers like that was the best fuckin’ thing you ever heard.”
you swallow hard, lips parted, heart slamming in your chest.
“you like the idea of crying on it, don’t you?” he presses, voice low. “sittin’ in my lap, all cockdrunk and teary, beggin’ me not to put the rest in?”
you whimper.
and that makes him grin. slow. cruel.
“jesus. you been thinkin’ about that for a while, haven’t you?”
you nod—helpless.
“how long?”
you blink, trying to gather words—but you can’t.
so he curls his fingers just right, and you gasp—back arching, thighs twitching.
“c’mon, toots,” he says, soft and coaxing. “use that mouth. tell me.”
you breathe, high and shaky. “since… our first date.”
that stuns him for a second. his brows lift—just a flicker of disbelief.
“first date?” he echoes, lips twitching. “we split a pizza and you were already thinkin’ about gettin’ split open?”
you cover your face, humiliated. “i didn’t know it’d be like this.”
he pulls your hand away—still grinning, still wrecking you with just the look in his eyes.
“like what?”
“big,” you whisper. “so big.”
his grin deepens, fingers dragging slow and deep, hitting a spot that makes your hips jerk.
“haven’t even shown you yet,” he murmurs. “but you’ve been thinkin’ about it—how wide you’d have to stretch. how it’d feel when i finally push in. that right?”
you nod, eyes wet, lips trembling. “mm-hm.”
he leans in—voice low, coaxing, wrecked.
“and now you know,” he breathes. “now you really know what you’re beggin’ for.”
then his thumb finds your clit again—circling firm, slow, devastating—and your whole body locks up.
“go on, sweetheart,” he murmurs, lips brushing your cheek. “come for me. just like this. just from my fingers.”
you shatter—body seizing, legs shaking, hands scrabbling for anything to hold onto. his wrist. the couch. the air. your cry breaks in your throat.
he groans low, thumb easing up, fingers still deep, drawing it out as long as he can.
“that’s it,” he whispers. “good girl. there you go.”
and then, slowly, finally, he slips his fingers out.
you whimper at the loss.
he brings them to his mouth.
licks them clean.
eyes never leaving yours.
you swallow hard, flushed and shaking and so far gone—but when he starts reaching for the throw blanket draped over the back of the couch, you blink.
“…what are you doing?”
he tilts his head, amused. “trying to wrap you up before you fall asleep sittin’ in your own afterglow.”
you frown—confused, needy, offended. “you’re just… done?”
schlatt pauses, blanket still half-unfolded. “i mean—yeah?” he says, hesitant. “was kinda hopin’ to get you cozy again…maybe finish the movie, head to bed…”
you stare at him, lips parted. “but i don’t want to sleep.”
his brow furrows. “toots…”
“no, i’m serious.” you sit up, pulling your shirt down as best you can—not that it helps, considering your whole body’s still humming from his fingers. “i don’t want to stop. not yet.”
“you just came so hard i thought you forgot your name,” he says, voice rough but not unkind. “i figured you’d wanna—”
“i didn’t come here to nap on your couch,” you say, more force behind your words now. “i came here because i like you. because i trust you. and because i knew if you touched me—really touched me—it was gonna feel this good.”
he doesn’t speak.
so you go on, cheeks burning:
“i’ve been wanting you for weeks, schlatt. but if you’re not into it—if you think i’m just some wide-eyed virgin who can’t handle you—then say that. but don’t sit there and act like you don’t want me when you’ve got a goddamn tent in your jeans.”
that makes him snort—actually snort—but the sound is low and almost pained.
he rubs the back of his neck, looking away for a beat before meeting your eyes again.
“fuck, toots,” he mutters. “it’s not that i don’t want you. jesus. believe me, i do. i’m dying over here.”
“then what?” you ask, quieter now.
his jaw ticks. “i’m tryin’ not to be the asshole who rushes a girl into something she’ll regret. especially one who’s never done it before. especially you.”
you sit still for a moment. swallow hard. then:
“i’m not rushing. i’m asking. and i’m not trying to jump straight into sex. i just… i wanna see you. i wanna touch you. i wanna make you feel good, too.”
his breath hitches.
you shift closer. rest a hand over his. “let me?”
he stares at you—searching. maybe for fear, maybe for hesitation?
but he finds neither.
“…alright,” he says, voice lower than before. “we’ll take it slow."
you nod.
and then?
he leans back on the couch and spreads his thighs—just a little.
“then c’mon, sweetheart,” he murmurs, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. “you wanted to touch?”
you nod again—heart pounding.
“be gentle with it, now,” he adds, undoing his jeans. “he’s not used to sweet girls with tiny little hands.”
schlatt undoes his jeans slow, deliberate—like he’s still giving you time to change your mind.
you don’t.
can’t.
not with the way your mouth’s gone dry and your thighs are already pressing together again.
he shoves the denim down his thighs and leans back, boxers tented—massively—the outline of him enough to make your breath catch.
and then, finally, he tugs the waistband down.
you suck in a breath.
jesus.
he’s huge.
long and heavy, flushed dark at the tip, veined and thick and impossibly real. he’s hard—painfully hard—and lying against his stomach like he knows damn well you’re staring.
and you are.
because your mind’s blank.
wiped.
replaced with the single, earth-shattering thought:
there’s no way that’s fitting inside me.
but you want to try.
and then?
you notice it.
a glint of silver.
pierced—through the underside of the head. a smooth, shining barbell catching the soft lamp light, nestled against all that flushed skin like it belongs there.
your thighs press tighter.
“holy shit,” you whisper.
he raises a brow, cocky but cautious. “too much?”
you shake your head violently.
“no. no, i just—” you blink, still stunned. “it’s just… bigger than i thought. and the piercing…”
he smirks. “didn’t peg you for the kind who’d like that.”
you lick your lips. “i didn’t know i liked it.”
he lets out a low, breathless chuckle. “fuck, you’re cute.”
you reach out—hesitant at first—until your fingers brush against his length, and he exhales hard through his nose.
“careful,” he mutters. “he’s shy.”
you glance up, wide-eyed.
he’s already watching you, his gaze dark and steady, one arm thrown over the back of the couch like he’s trying to look casual—but the flex of his thigh beneath your knee gives him away.
you wrap your hand around him, featherlight.
his breath catches. “a little tighter, baby.”
you squeeze—barely.
he groans. “yeah. just like that.”
you pump once, twice, awkward and unsure. “am i…?”
“you’re doin’ so good,” he says, voice rough. “just keep goin’. nice and slow.”
you bite your lip and keep your eyes on your hand, watching the way his skin shifts, how your fingers don’t quite close all the way around.
god, he’s thick.
he guides you gently—fingers curling over yours, setting the pace, the rhythm.
“that’s it,” he murmurs. “easy, yeah? keep your hand right there—good girl.”
the praise makes your stomach flutter.
you pump again, smoother now. his hips twitch—just a little—and he sucks in a breath through his teeth.
“try twisting your wrist a little at the top,” he says, almost too calmly. “not too much. just—fuck, yeah, like that.”
you look up at him again, half-proud, half-hungry.
his jaw’s tight. he’s breathing hard. and the muscle in his thigh jumps every time you give him a firmer stroke.
you’re learning fast.
another slow pump and there it is—a bead of slick, glistening at the tip.
you blink.
then, without thinking, you lean in and press a kitten lick to it—light, curious, reverent.
he chokes.
“jesus—fuck, baby—”
you flinch back. “sorry! i didn’t—was that—?”
he huffs a breath, eyes squeezing shut like he’s trying to reset the entire planet.
“no, that was—shit, that was perfect. you’re so fucking perfect.”
you glance down again.
still curious.
still hungry.
you lean in—and this time, you press your tongue flat to the base and drag it all the way up. slow. careful. lingering at the tip with another kitten lick, like it’s instinct.
he bucks.
actually bucks.
“fuck, baby—!”
you sit back again, blinking up at him, lips slick, proud and a little uncertain.
“…did i mess up?”
he stares at you like you’ve just reinvented sex. like he can’t decide if he’s terrified or in love.
then you do it again.
same motion.
same wide eyes looking up at him.
his hand shoots out—grabs the base of his cock like it’s the only thing keeping him from losing it all over your pretty, determined face.
“okay,” he rasps. “okay, that’s enough.”
you pout. “why?”
he looks wrecked. cheeks flushed, hair mussed, thighs tensed like steel under you.
“because if you do that one more fucking time,” he growls, “i’m gonna come so hard i black out, and that’s not how i wanna finish this date.”
you blink. then slowly smile.
“…so i’m good at it?”
“sweetheart,” he huffs, tugging you into his lap again, “you’re a goddamn menace.”
he tucks you into his lap like muscle memory—your bare thighs stretched over denim, your flushed face resting against his shoulder.
his cock is still hard, still leaking, still angry at the denial.
you squirm once and feel it press against your stomach.
“…can i try?” you whisper, voice small but sure.
he stills.
“...try what, baby?”
you don’t look at him. “…taking you. at least a little.”
he goes quiet. one long beat. then another.
“you sure?” he asks finally—low, serious.
you nod. “i just… wanna see. i wanna try. i know it might not go all the way, but—”
“but you want to know how it feels,” he finishes for you, voice gentling. “you wanna feel us.”
you nod again.
he sighs like he’s aging a decade on the spot, but you catch the way his arms tighten around your waist—like he’s already imagining it.
“…we’re goin’ slow,” he warns.
“okay.”
“and the second it’s too much, you tell me.”
“okay.”
he looks at you for a moment—long and steady—like he’s memorizing the curve of your face.
then: “all right, sweetheart.”
you sit up.
and he leans back.
cock thick and flushed, resting against his stomach like it’s just waiting for you.
you swing a leg over, settling above him, shaky hands bracing on his chest.
“you’re gonna guide it,” he murmurs. “take your time.”
you reach down, wrap your hand around him again—he twitches in your grip—and you line him up to your entrance, already slick and fluttering and so ready.
your breath catches.
his hands come up to your hips.
“i got you,” he whispers. “don’t rush. just—go as far as you can handle, baby.”
you nod, eyes fluttering.
and slowly—so slowly—you start to sink.
the head presses in and it’s already a stretch.
you gasp.
“fuck, you’re tight,” he grits out. “jesus, you feel like a vice.”
you whimper. but don’t stop.
“an inch more, maybe,” he murmurs, watching your face. “that’s it.”
you exhale shakily.
but you want more.
your thighs tremble as you inch lower, one centimeter at a time, cunt pulling him in greedily even as your body resists.
“good girl,” he whispers, voice raw. “just like that. that’s it, sweetheart. you’re doin’ perfect.”
you make it about halfway before your body stalls and the pressure inside you starts to burn.
it’s too much.
but also—not enough.
you brace your hands on his chest, panting, thighs trembling, walls clutching him like you’re scared to let go.
“shit, baby,” he grits, hands hovering like he’s torn between helping you up or holding you down. “you—you can stop now. that’s already so much—”
you nod. you try.
you lift your hips—just barely—
but the friction is molten.
you gasp—then drop right back down with a helpless cry.
his groan punches out of him, ragged and low. your eyes fly to his.
wide. stunned. wrecked.
you grind again. shallow. experimental.
both of you moan.
“oh,” you whisper.
“fuck me,” he breathes. “do that again.”
you do.
rocking in slow, shaky circles—just halfway down, just where it feels good.
his fingers dig into your hips like anchors, his chest rising hard beneath your palms.
“jesus christ,” he mutters, voice wrecked. “you’re riding just the tip—”
“not the tip,” you pant, biting down on your lip. “i got halfway.”
he huffs a breathless laugh, brushing a hand through his hair as he looks at you—flushed, trembling, perfect.
“yeah, baby,” he says, voice rough. “you fuckin’ did. and you feel unreal.”
his hands slide lower—settling on your hips again, firm but steady. “slow it down a sec,” he murmurs, coaxing your movement into something smaller. “not just back and forth—try…rollin’ your hips. yeah, like that.”
you follow his guidance, circling your hips slowly, shallowly, and your breath stutters out at the way it drags him inside you.
“feel that?” he asks—low, careful, watching your face. “better?”
you nod, a little dazed. “s’good,” you whisper. “i—i didn’t know it could feel like this…”
“mm,” he hums, guiding you through another slow grind. “it’s different for everyone. different positions, different angles. but this—this one’s good for you, huh?”
“yeah,” you breathe. “yeah, it’s—fuck, schlatt—”
his eyes flutter shut for a second, like he’s trying to hold himself together. “legs okay?” he murmurs. “you need a break?”
they’re shaking, but not in pain. you shift a little and shake your head a bit, side to side. “just tired.”
you whimper. your head tips back, mouth falling open, cunt fluttering around him with every slow drag of your hips.
“can’t think, can you?” he murmurs, voice a gravelly purr. “too full to think. you like bein’ dumb on my cock, sweetheart?”
you nod. frantic this time. you do.
he chuckles—hoarse, wrecked.
“you’re so fuckin’ tight like this,” he groans. “fuck—every time you move, i feel your pussy pulling at me.”
you try to answer, but it comes out a whine.
“drunk on it already?” he teases, and his hand slides down—rubbing slow circles over your clit. “and i’m not even all the way in.”
that makes your whole body twitch. you bite your lip. squirm a little.
“i—maybe i can—”
“no,” he says gently, pressing his thumb a little firmer. “you don’t have to, baby. half’s already fuckin’ killin’ me.”
but it’s too late.
your body’s greedy.
you grind down again—slow, thoughtless, dizzy—and your hips roll just right, angling perfectly, and suddenly you slip.
lower.
deeper.
your eyes snap open.
he gasps—loud, choked, shocked.
you freeze.
and the second he’s all the way in—buried to the base—you scream.
not loud, but ragged. guttural. like the air’s been punched from your lungs and replaced with heat and pressure and the overwhelming stretch of being full.
you’re shaking. writhing. every nerve ending flaring at once. your hands claw at his chest. you can’t breathe. can’t think.
“oh my fuck, baby—” schlatt grits out, voice wrecked, hands flying to your hips like he’s trying to steady himself before he loses all control.
your body clenches around him on instinct—so tight, so wet, so goddamn full of him it’s like your body doesn’t know whether to panic or come.
“i didn’t mean to—” you gasp, tears in your eyes, head spinning. “i just—it just slipped—”
“i know, i know,” he breathes, voice wild, thumb brushing your hip like it might calm you down—even as his grip twitches, even as every muscle in his body begs him to move.
but he doesn’t.
not yet.
because when he looks down—it’s right there.
the base of his cock flushed dark, your folds swollen and stretched taut around him, a slick, shiny ring where your body’s clinging like it doesn’t want to let him go. like you were built for this.
he groans, deep and guttural. “jesus christ.”
you blink down at him, dazed. “what?”
“look at this,” he mutters, dragging his eyes down to where your bodies are still locked. “look at this. you’re fuckin’ made for me.”
his hand slides between your thighs—spreads you open just enough that you both get a better view.
your breath stutters.
because fuck, it’s obscene.
the size difference, the way he fills you, how swollen and stretched and stuffed you are—it’s so much. too much.
and still, your cunt clenches around him again like it wants more.
he grabs your hips—rough now, greedy—and starts grinding into you, slow but deep, like he wants to feel every inch of your walls wrapped around him, stretching, clenching, taking.
“oh, my fuck, baby—” he hisses, watching where he disappears inside you. “it fits. it fits. i can feel your cunt choking on it. look at how tight you are—look at how deep i am—fuck—”
he laughs under his breath. wrecked.
your hips twitch at his words.
you’re still panting. flushed and sensitive and wide-eyed. “i didn’t mean to take all of it—i just—i wanted more—”
“i know,” he says again, gentler now. “but all of me? on your first time?”
his head drops. his forehead rests against yours.
“fuck, you’re unreal.”
then he pulls back just an inch—slow, cautious, like he’s testing the water—and your body on top of his.
his jaw clenches. his hands twitch against your hips like he's holding back something barely contained. he drops his forehead against yours again—like he’s trying to ground himself in your skin instead of the way you feel wrapped around him.
you whimper softly, body twitching with aftershocks, and that’s when he really looks at you.
eyes wild.
lips parted.
hair a mess.
his gaze drops between your bodies—where he’s still buried, where he can feel you throbbing around him, leaking down his length—and something shifts.
he exhales.
rough. shaky. dangerous.
like he’s one wrong move from losing control all over again.
“baby—” he murmurs, voice low and fraying. “i need to—”
he cuts himself off. swallows. you watch his jaw clench.
then softer, almost pleading:
“can i take over?”
you blink up at him, dazed and glowing, still fogged with the kind of high that leaves your soul floating.
“…please,” you whisper.
“fuck yes,” he growls—and then you’re weightless.
in one swift movement, he slips out and flips you onto your back, spreading your legs with zero hesitation. the air hits your slick skin and you shiver—but he’s already there, lining himself up, kissing your knee like it’s the last gentle thing he’s got in him.
and then—
he thrusts in again. deep. hard.
the new angle makes you see stars.
his piercing brushes right there—a heavy, deliberate drag against your cervix that makes you gasp, body seizing up around him.
“there it is,” he growls, watching your face twist with pleasure-shock. “you feel that, baby? you feel me all the way up there?”
you can’t answer. your mouth is open, soundless, tears pricking at your lashes from the intensity.
he grabs your thighs, spreading you wider, pulling you down onto him like he’s got something to prove.
like he’s trying to brand you from the inside out.
“fuck—this pussy—i knew it was good, but goddamn.”
you sob out something close to his name, and he loses it.
he leans over you, caging you in with his forearms, his hips slamming into yours with loud, wet slaps that echo off the room.
“taking me so fuckin’ good,” he pants, voice right in your ear. “letting me ruin you, sweetheart. letting me fuck you dumb on your first time.”
“say it,” he demands again, voice shredded. “say it’s mine.”
and then—without thinking, without breathing, without even realizing what you’re about to say—
you choke out:
“it's already yours.”
his whole body jerks.
he stills—deep inside you, cock twitching, throbbing, fighting for control he doesn’t have.
his eyes snap open. meet yours.
and something in both of you just breaks.
the tension snaps like a wire under pressure—and you both come together.
you sob. your body locks around him. your vision goes white at the edges.
he groans—deep, animal, like he’s never felt anything like this before—and spills inside you, hips grinding down to push every drop as far in as it’ll go.
neither of you move. not at first.
just panting. shaking. stunned.
and then, slowly—so slowly—he pulls back just enough to watch it happen.
his cock slips out, wet and swollen and trembling, and a thick string of cum follows, dripping out of you in slow, obscene globs.
he watches it—entranced. then looks at you again. hair wild. eyes glassy. body still trembling with aftershocks.
he exhales, rough and ragged, like he’s trying to catch up with himself.
“shit,” he mutters. “okay. hang on, baby.”
he moves fast—but gentle. stands, tucks himself back into his boxers with one hand, and disappears down the hallway. you blink, dazed, and only just register the sound of running water.
when he returns, he’s got a warm, damp washcloth. his brows are drawn, focused—his expression all quiet care and no teasing for once.
“lift your hips for me, sweetheart,” he murmurs, kneeling beside you again.
you do. barely.
he takes over—one hand cradling your thigh, the other so gentle as he wipes between your legs. cleaning you. soothing you. making sure you’re okay.
“think i might’ve overdone it, huh?” he murmurs. “first time and i go feral like a fuckin’ animal…”
you shake your head, still hazy. “was perfect.”
he exhales—almost a laugh, almost a sigh—and kisses your knee.
“lift your arms,” he says next, reaching behind for the throw blanket. “we’re not sleeping on the couch. not after what we just did to it.”
you comply, sluggish and boneless. he bundles you up in the blanket like a little caterpillar in a cocoon, one arm wrapping under your legs, the other steady at your back.
“jesus christ,” he mutters, grinning to himself as he picks you up. “third date and i’ve already fucked up your ability to walk. great impression, schlatt.”
“you’re doing amazing,” you mumble into his neck, eyes heavy, lips smiling.
his condo’s quiet except for the shuffle of his steps, low muttering as he opens the door to his bedroom with his shoulder. it’s clean—cool gray sheets, big comforter, scuffed dresser with tiny tower of hats, an empty glass on the nightstand, his cologne still hanging in the air.
he sets you on the edge of the bed, then disappears into the closet.
“don’t even think about crashing in that dress,” he calls, rummaging.
you blink, foggy. “but it's...pretty comfy.”
“it’s not sleepwear, toots. catch.”
he tosses a shirt—soft, black, oversized. you tug it on with wobbly arms, his shirt swallowing your frame, no panties in sight, letting it fall down past your thighs. schlatt turns back around once you’re changed, holding out a water bottle and two pills.
“advil,” he says. “preventative. i know it’s gonna hit you in the morning.”
you swallow them, obedient, and let him help you into bed. the mattress is warm from the sheets, and you sink in immediately.
he joins you a beat later—still in his sweats, shirt rucked up slightly—and pulls the blanket over both of you. his arm slides around your waist. his other hand rests over your stomach, fingers grazing against your skin, almost tickling you.
his voice is quieter now. lower. honest.
“…you okay?”
you nod into his shoulder. “mhm.”
“wasn’t too much?”
“you asked. every time.”
a pause. then, softly:
“i’m really glad it was you.”
his fingers flex against your side. he presses a kiss to your temple.
“i know it’s only been three dates,” he murmurs, “but i really fucking like you.”
your breath catches. you tilt your head to meet his eyes.
they’re softer than you’ve ever seen them. tired. awed.
“i wanna be your boyfriend,” he says simply. “if you’ll have me.”
your chest swells. you smile.
“yeah,” you whisper. “i want that. i'd really, really like that.”
he exhales like he’s been holding it in for hours. “jesus. okay. okay, good.” he buries his face in your hair, arms tightening around you. “best third date i’ve ever had.”
you huff a sleepy laugh. “me too.”
the rest of the night settles around you in warmth and softness and the steady thump of his heartbeat, echoing against your back.

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personally i think the cutest thing about the way charlie jerks off is the way his hips would twitch forward to chase his hand. it feels too fucking good, he gets so sensitive, n if he closes his eyes he can pretend for a second that it's your wet, warm hole instead of his hand. it's only natural his body would chase that! and when he keeps jerking his hips after he cums, well.. that's just muscle memory <3
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MDNI!! SMUTT!!
🔥 NSFW Schlaty headcanons that live rent-free in my mind 🐏🖤
(18+ only, minors DNI)
• He’s a tease. The worst. Will whisper something absolutely filthy in your ear in public and then act innocent while you’re blushing like crazy.
• Big into power play—loves having control, but the second you take over? He short-circuits. “Don’t get cocky, sweetheart,” he growls… while letting you ride him.
• Very vocal. Low growls, sharp gasps, praise laced with swears: “Fuck toots—just like that,” or “You’re gonna ruin me, huh?”
• Size kink? Obviously. Loves how small you look beneath him, or how you struggle to take all of him. Bonus points if you whimper—he lives for it.
• Will absolutely act like a menace beforehand—grabbing your thighs, biting your neck, muttering “you’re in so much trouble later.”
• Aftercare king. Will grumble about it, but you’re getting water, a warm rag, and tucked in like a princess."Shut it,” he says, already spooning you.
• Secretly obsessed with marking you up—hickeys, scratches, anything that lingers. He likes knowing you’ll think of him every time you look in the mirror.
• Lazy morning sex is his favorite—barely awake, messy kisses, deep thrusts, sleepy “I missed you”s. He gets soft when he’s not trying to be a smartass.
• He gets extra mean (and hot) when he’s jealous—gripping your hips harder, going rougher, muttering “Mine. Don’t forget it.”
• Has a folder in his brain of every little noise you’ve ever made. You can’t lie—he knows what makes your legs shake and isn’t above using it.
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He couldn't wait until you woke up. He was too needy. Charlie pulled your underwear down, stroking himself with the sight of your wet pussy. He doesn't add any finger, but he teases your hole enough to make you moan in your sleep. With your sweet sounds (moans), he feels like a pervert. He can't believe he's doing this. How could he be so horny with the thought of his girlfriend sleeping? He shakes his head, focusing on the pleasure. His cock is hard like a rock, he couldn't relax before cumming. It's barely six a.m., and nothing is making sense to him. He slowly slaps his cock on your pussy, just enough to make a wet sound. He likes it, but he suddenly feels like cumming. "Shit.. shit.." He bites his lips, finishing on his own hands.

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Write ANY spicy story about the schlitties (schlatt’s man tits). I…. I want to respectfully admire and ‘study’ them…… 😳👉👈
╭﹐✦˚₊· 𖤐 * peer-reviewed tit study ⋆.ೃ࿔*:・ ╮ imagine: he brings you lunch during a study session. you ask him to help you practice. he volunteers his body. things get clinical—fast. ╰﹒♡₊˚๑ *✧﹒✦ ࣪ ˖ ┊
﹒₊✦ a/n: to the scholar who requested a respectful study of the schlitties…i hope you know this got wildly out of hand.
warnings: explicit content (MINORS DNI !!!) · med student/nurse!y/n · blowjob (m receiving) · power dynamic · public tension · interrupted spice · tit fixation (m & f) · mutual tit grabbing · car sex vibes · dom!schlatt energy · research-based flirting
enjoy, overachievers (。•̀ ᴗ -)✧
✧✧✧
the practice room smells like disinfectant and stress.
you’ve got your laptop propped up, highlighters scattered, and your folded scrub top draped over the back of a chair. the table in front of you is meant for training—ideal for learning vitals, practicing physicals, or quietly melting into a pile of regret while prepping for exams.
which is exactly what you’re doing.
until the door creaks open.
"i brought food," comes a familiar voice. casual. teasing.
you blink up, startled—and then nearly drop your pen.
schlatt leans in the doorway, brown paper bag in one hand, and that smug little smile on his face. he’s wearing your school hoodie. it fits poorly, in that it’s clearly not his, but his broad frame makes it look criminal anyway.
"what are you—how did you get in here?"
he shrugs, stepping inside like he owns the place. "guy in the lab coat outside owed me a favor."
"you bribed an emt with an energy drink again, didn’t you."
"allegedly."
you groan, but you’re already smiling as he sets the bag down on the table and leans over to kiss your temple.
"you look exhausted," he murmurs.
"that’s because i am."
"then let me help you study."
your brows lift. "you want to help me with… medical exams?"
he leans against the edge of the table, arms crossed over his chest. "yeah. be your little fake patient or whatever."
you raise an eyebrow. "you offering to take your shirt off for educational purposes, big guy?"
he grins. "you tell me."
✧✧✧
he’s shirtless on the table five minutes later.
you’ve barely touched your sandwich. he’s already unwrapped his, humming through bites like this is the best day of his life.
you try to be professional. you do. but it’s hard to keep a straight face when your mock patient is sitting there with his legs dangling off the side, tan skin on display, and that cocky look in his eye.
“vitals?” you prompt, grabbing your clipboard.
“sure,” he says. “but only if you warm your hands first.”
you shoot him a look. “you think this is a massage?”
“no, i just think you touching me should be a luxury experience.”
you sigh, setting the clipboard aside.
“pulse?” you ask, wrapping your fingers around his wrist. his skin is warm. his smirk deepens.
“elevated,” you note.
“wonder why,” he murmurs.
“blood pressure?”
“skyrocketing, sweetheart. must be the hot nurse.”
you glare.
he chuckles.
you step closer.
“breath sounds...” you say, placing your fingers lightly against his ribcage.
he inhales.
so do you.
your hand stalls.
you blink.
he grins. “you good?”
“i’m fine.” you clear your throat. “i’m being professional.”
“you’re being flustered.”
you scowl, reaching for the stethoscope. “lay down.”
“buying me dinner first might’ve been nice.”
“schlatt.”
“okay, okay.”
he lies back across the table, hands behind his head. the stretch of his torso should be illegal.
you place the stethoscope against his chest.
and immediately regret it.
because now you can hear it.
the steady beat of his heart.
strong. confident. comforting.
you glance up.
he’s watching you.
“…normal,” you say.
he smirks. “yours?”
you roll your eyes, moving to write down the fake results.
then, lowly:
“i think you skipped a step, doc.”
you glance over.
“palpation,” he says. “gotta check for tenderness.”
you narrow your eyes. “you’re not tender.”
“try me.”
you move your hands slowly over his chest, palms flat. it's a little ridiculous—he’s just fucking there, all warmth and muscle, and somehow still smug even as you prod his sternum.
"mm. yep," he says. "definitely tender."
you poke him, hard.
“ow.”
“babies don’t get lollipops after exams.”
“but what if i was so good?”
you sigh, bracing your hands on either side of him, leaning over the table.
"you’re the worst patient i’ve ever had."
"yeah? but i’m still your favorite."
you stare at him.
he stares back.
the silence simmers.
then:
"you gonna write me a prescription or what?"
you raise an eyebrow. "for what?"
he grins, hands finding your waist. "for another exam. i think i need a full work-up. maybe… over dinner? in your dorm? with less clothes and more hands-on testing?"
you laugh despite yourself.
“you really want me to ace this exam, huh?
he leans back on his elbows, chest rising slow. “wanna make sure you know your anatomy.”
you eye him. “mm. think i’ve got the basics down.”
his hands slide up your sides, deliberate. “then let’s get into practical application.”
you snort, but your heart’s already racing. you should scold him—remind him this is technically a school facility, that the table beneath him is meant for pretend patients and sterile technique.
instead, you step between his legs and tug his waistband.
“guess i should run another check-up.”
he watches you with a kind of greedy calm, eyes dragging down your face, your uniform, your mouth.
“thorough this time,” he murmurs. “real hands-on. i’ve got symptoms.”
“oh yeah?” you slide his sweats down his hips, slow. “what are we treating?”
he inhales as you wrap your fingers around him. “swelling.”
you bite back a smile. “localized?”
he huffs a laugh. “worse when you’re close.”
“noted.”
you sink to your knees.
he swears under his breath, one hand bracing on the table, the other brushing through your hair like he’s still trying to play it cool—even as you lick a slow stripe along his length. his thighs tense beneath your hands.
“fuck,” he mutters. “you’re gonna ruin me.”
you hum around him in response, mouth warm, slow, wet. you take your time—letting him twitch and strain and clench his jaw, watching the flush creep up his chest.
his voice is wrecked when he speaks again. “you keep doing that and i’m gonna forget what my name is.”
you pull back with a slick pop, eyes up. “tell me if anything hurts.”
“only if you stop.”
you laugh, and duck back down.
he groans louder this time, grip tightening in your hair, not to guide—but to ground. he’s already close, and he knows it. you can feel it in the way his thighs shift, the sharp hitch in his breath. you hollow your cheeks a little, just to watch him fall apart.
and then—
a knock.
“sorry to interrupt! just a reminder we’ve got this room reserved starting at two!”
silence.
utter, fucking silence.
you freeze.
so does he.
“oh my god,” schlatt says, half-choked.
you glance up at him, trying not to laugh, your hand still curled around the base of his cock.
he whispers like it’s a war crime. “you can’t stop now.”
you mouth 'we have to'.
he slaps a hand over his face, groaning like he’s being punished for a past life. “i’m gonna die in here.”
you snort, squeezing his thigh before rising. “then hurry up and tuck that thing back in before they add public indecency to your autopsy report.”
he glares at you, but it’s all for show. his ears are pink.
you hand him a tissue from your bag and fish around for your lip balm like none of this is out of the ordinary. “c’mon, schlatt. shirts on. pants up. act natural.”
he grumbles something about unfulfilled promises and cruel women in positions of power while cleaning up and shimmying back into his sweats.
you smooth your hair, give your reflection a once-over in the dark window, and open the door just wide enough to peek out.
two undergrads stand there awkwardly with clipboards, eyes wide when they recognize you.
“hey,” you say sweetly, “thanks for being patient. if you could just give me two more minutes? then the room’s all yours.”
one of them gives you a thumbs up. the other stares at schlatt—who, behind you, is clearly still adjusting his waistband—and mouths is that your boyfriend?
you shut the door with a snap before answering.
✧✧✧
the walk to the parking lot is suspiciously silent.
not out of guilt. not really. more like shared tension—like you both know damn well what almost just happened and your bodies haven’t gotten the memo it’s over yet.
the second the truck’s in view, schlatt veers toward the passenger side like a man on a mission—but then stops short.
you blink. “uh. you good?”
he glances at you, eyes a little wild. “get in the back.”
you laugh. “what?”
“front’s too cramped.”
“for what?”
he doesn’t answer.
just opens the back door, crawls in, and looks at you expectantly.
and maybe you should say no. maybe you should remind him you both have places to be. maybe you should pretend you’re above a little heat-fueled make-out session in the back seat like a pair of hormonal teenagers.
but your hands are already gripping the door.
and your knees are already pressing into the leather as you slide in after him.
he closes the door behind you.
and that’s all the warning you get.
his hands are on your hips in seconds, pulling you into his lap with a groan like he’s been starving for this. your knees bracket his thighs, your mouth finding his fast—hot, needy, and a little reckless. all the breathy restraint from earlier boils over.
his hands move up your back, under your shirt, fingers greedy against your skin.
you arch into it, one hand threading through his hair, the other gripping his shoulder.
he grins against your mouth. “you’re real handsy for someone who called things off twenty minutes ago.”
“you’re real smug for someone who almost got caught with his pants down.”
“you didn’t seem to mind.”
“i minded plenty,” you whisper, kissing the edge of his jaw, “but you looked so pretty, i got distracted.”
he groans, hands sliding down to squeeze your ass. “say that again.”
you press your forehead to his. “you looked pretty.”
“fuck.”
he kisses you again, rougher this time—biting at your lip, letting out a noise when your hips shift over his.
your fingers skate down his bare chest, dragging slow as you pull back to look at him, breathing hard. he’s flushed, pupils blown, lips wet.
“what?” he asks, breath catching as you swipe your thumbs across his nipples. again. deliberately.
“just thinking,” you murmur, fingers teasing the swell of each pec. “they really are perfect.”
“they’re not even—”
“no, shut up. you’ve got better tits than me.”
he chokes on a laugh. “that’s not true.”
“look at you,” you say, giving one a light squeeze. he jumps. “they bounce. they’ve got mass. shape.”
“stop,” he wheezes, hands tightening on your waist. “i’m gonna develop a complex.”
“a good one,” you hum, leaning in to mouth at his chest, sucking a bruise right under his collarbone. “like a… medical marvel. patient zero for pec envy.”
he groans, head thumping back against the seat. “jesus christ.”
his hands come up, tugging your shirt until it bunches under your arms. he wastes no time reaching for your bra, pulling the cups down until your tits spill out into his waiting palms.
“you really wanna compare?” he says, low and smug, thumbing over one nipple until it hardens under his touch. “’cause baby, you’ve got no idea how obsessed i am.”
“show me.”
he does. with both hands and then his mouth—sucking at one, rolling the other between his fingers, humming like he’s tasting something decadent. you arch with a gasp, fingers tightening in his hair.
“god,” you whisper. “you’re ridiculous.”
he pulls back, lips shiny, eyes gleaming. “admit it.”
“what?”
he gives your tits one last squeeze. “mine are better.”
“you’re delusional.”
he flicks his tongue over your nipple and grins. “say it.”
“never.”
he laughs—open, shameless, so him—and then leans in again, kissing between the swell of your breasts before dragging his mouth back up to yours.
“fine,” he mutters. “we’ll settle this later. in bed. with scientific analysis.”
you groan against his lips, hips grinding down on him. “can’t wait for the peer-reviewed tit study.”
“baby,” he breathes, biting your lip on the next kiss, “i am the peer.”
the windows are fogged. your clothes are barely on. and when he kisses you again, it’s all tongue and heat and wandering hands.
until—
a distant door slams.
you both freeze.
he pulls back, panting. “was that—?”
you scramble off his lap, breathless. “we need to go.”
“what?” he blinks. “no, c’mon, just two more minutes—”
“nope,” you say, tugging your shirt back down. “you said yourself. front seat’s too cramped. you want more hands-on testing, we’re gonna need a controlled environment.”
he’s already climbing forward again, one arm snagging his shirt from the floor. “your place. now.”
“your driving better be as good as your tits.”
he snorts. “buckle up, doc. we’re skipping straight to the home visit.”

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Pleaseeeeee schlatt but in fwb with fem!reader pleaseeeeeee
let's gooo hcs because i have a longer fwb thing with schlatt coming soon(ish) (never been in a fwb situation my bad if this sucks ass y'all)
he was really surprised when you asked him to hook up at first; he didn't think you were attracted to him like he was to you
agreed immediately, fumbling his words awkwardly and just nodded
the first time, he invited you to his place and you shared a bottle of alcohol, easing into your new dynamic with each other
he kissed you first, and you melted into him, tipsy and emboldened by the comfortable atmosphere in his living room
you ended up on your back, and he ate you out before he did anything for himself because he wanted to make sure you'd come back to him for this arrangement
(playing the long game)
(he also had been dreaming of being smothered between your thighs since you guys first met)
once you came on his face, he let himself focus on something other than making you feel good- himself
you sat up and slid his pants off, taking him fully in your mouth while he groaned and grasped at your hair
after a bit he couldn't hold back and began fucking you, growling praises into your ear as he pinned you down against the couch under him
he let you sleep in his guest room because he couldn't take you home himself and he didn't want to just send you out in a cab or something
friendship only changes slightly, the two of you just seem to act more comfortable around each other
ted's the only one that notices
and you best believe schlatt tells him what's been going on in a drunken midnight discord call
ted just kept asking for more details until schlatt waved him off and went to bed, sending you a few memes he saw before passing out on his bed
you two began sending each other nudes, sometimes videos whenever you felt like it
he had a key to his place made and gave it to you before you left one night, earning a grin from you as you kissed him and continued gathering your stuff
he wished he knew how to make this arrangement more than what it was without risking damaging the friendship, but could never make himself tell you
so he stuck to being the guy you called when you needed a distraction from anything and everything, reveling in moments like the one where you moaned, "nobody fucks me like you do, j," as you bounced on top of him
yeah, he was fine with being just friends, he convinced himself. after all, you might not have felt comfortable asking in the first place if you were any closer
so he took what he could get, using you eagerly whenever you showed up at his door- which was almost every night, now
maybe it was more reasonable to call you two best friends with benefits now?
either way, you were both getting railed good, and you planned to take advantage of the other for as long as you could
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hiiii umm Ted has a daddy kink idc
warnings: NSFW || fem!reader || PiV || daddy kink obvi || praise kink
────୨ৎ────
“C’mon baby, open yourself up for Daddy.” he says as he pushes his huge cock into you. you wince in both pain and pleasure as he eases another inch into you.
“You did such a good job. Daddy’s so proud of you, honey.” he kisses your forehead as you mewl when he finally bottoms out.
you feel sooo unbelievably full, like you might tear in half. but it feel amazing. especially with his entire body eclipsing yours, and a percentage of his body weight rest comfortably on top of you.
he starts off slowly, always forgetting how tight and tiny your cunt is. it only takes him a few moments to pick up the pace, especially because you’re such a good girl and you get so wet for him.
soon enough he’s pounding into you with your legs tossed over his shoulders. his hands pressing your knees into your chest, folding you perfectly in half. his cock damn near jackhammering into that spot inside of you that makes you forget your own name.
“Da-ddy!” you cry out, his favorite word broken by his harsh thrusts. “I know, honey I know. You can take it. You always do.”
────୨ৎ────
gonna use more daddy kink with Teddy 🙂↕️☝🏽
~bunnie
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OOO OOO OOO HOW ABOUT A UHHH
nsfw work about dom!ted who makes reader keep going and going after she’s pissed him off all day LMAO🫡
Ahem. i present this p-link i found that is so.. soooo ted coded. Youre so welcome
onto the main stuff. also.. this ended up like.. an entire fic holy shit whoops ENJOY MAN!!
Warnings: afab reader/petnames (Sweetness, Baby, Honey)/color system/ dom/sub dynamic/edging
You have found every single way to annoy this big gentle giant of a man. in hours. and you are absolutely getting your punishment.
"O-oh fuck! too much! too much!" your back arches into a wicked bend as Ted grinds the toy at the perfect angle to have you nearly sobbing out. "Awh.. too much, huh? should've thought 'bout that before you started being such a pain in my ass today." his eyes glaring down at you from above your quivering shape, though his shallow breathes and slight grind of his clothed cock into your soaked thigh shows his resolve thinning quickly.
"M'sorry Teds! Please! Sl-slow down!" you're pained little whines wrench his big heart as he almost debates just letting you cum to see you happy. "No, sweetness... you did this to yourself." He says with a shakey unsure tone- growing painfully hard and wanting for you the more you whimper and gasp for him
He continues to bully your cunt with a little vibrator and replica of his dick (eheh) while your hands are shackled above you to the frame and a spread bar is propped between your ankles as they rest behind Ted's large frame.
"Color?" Ted's movements slow just a little to give you breaths to speak. "M-mm! green!" your voice squeaky and determined to continue this so called 'punishment'
"Ohhoh see. That's my pretty thing. Quit complaining unless it's a color, Brat." his voice soft and sweet as the dildo inside you slows down but is tilted upward into your g spot as he softly assults it and clicks the vibrator up a knotch- forcing your body to aggressively jolt in a lleasure struck response. "Yessir..yes i'm-i'm so sorry..." your words are slurred as your eyes grow heavy with a slight roll back and your legs twitch from being edged for so long.
"Mmhm theeeere you go.. let me coaxe some pretty apologies out of that throat of yours.." Ted's voice shallow and soft as he tries so hard to keep himself composed and not just fuck you. You needed to learn a lesson- not be rewarded for your snotty behavior.
You're legs shake and your moans turn into sharp gasps as you get close to cumming for the 3rd time in an hour as your eyes grow teary. Throwing Ted your most pleading little expression, pouty, shakey lip and your eyebrows furrowed unbelievably tight as your teeth slightly chatter from the persistent stimulation.
And that makes Ted fold. He moans at the sight and rolls his eyes in defeat as he takes the toy out of you- keeping the vibrator pressed on your swollen raw clit. You sigh in a pained desperated manner before choking on the sound as you feel his thick cock prodding at your soaked soft core. He slides in with a dramatic and loud, shakey groan of relief to finally be able to fuck his pretty baby.
"Oooh.. o-oh.. Baby.. baby you did so good f'me.. uh-huh.. gonna fuck you good now.." his voice sluggish and thick as he slowly fucks into you- his cock dense in girth and decent in length- feels so much better than the silicone. Feeling the veins and the throb of his painfully hard dick makes you see stars as he gets rougher and stronger with his hips. Your moans are just shallow little shells of noise as his cock nearly shoves all the air out of your chest, he leans forward to kiss you- it's wet and messy and he can't stop moaning into your mouth about just how good you are for him.
"Good.. you're so good for me.. just d-mmh!-don't be a fuck-..ing brat like that.. ah.. ohh-again- yeah?" he breathes against your mouth as you nod stupidly and whimper that you're cumming- fully blabbing along from being cock drunk. "'Mmhm! promise! i-i'm cumming! Teds m'gonna cum!" he uses a free hand to grab your chin and force you to make eye contact with him as he draws you both unbelievably close to the edge.
"Look at me baby. Yes like th-that.. yes fuck i'm gonna cum too!- Honey- ... oh-fuck." The second you arch up and cum around his sore cock and he feels the way you pulse and dretch the fuck out of his stomach he's shooting himself roughly into you, holding your face close so he can admire your fucked face while he finishes.
;sfw!;
Now he's rubbing lotion into your cuff marks and skin after a looong hot bath- smoothing in any hair product you may use.. washing your face.. setting you up in some confy sleep clothes as he kisses your red teary stained face from earlier "So good Honey.. you're always so good for me aren't you?"
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i love med play and never see it written, and your Ted blurb on it was JUICYYYY OMG feel free to do more with him and that kink ANYTIME👀
hi okay i cant sleep get ready for medical porn thanks ☺️
warnings: med play! gloves! mean!dom!ted! lowkey sick!reader! im probably missing something idfk!!!!!
you're at up on Ted's bathroom counter while he checks your temp and rubs below your jaw to check your lymph nodes for swelling. He's pressed so close to you and you're growing weiry hot and turned on by the way hes inspecting you sl casually. Your eyes are heavy with fatigue as Ted scootches close in between your legs- your slight fever making things feel warmer than they are.
"You okay? Hon?" he asks slowly- when you give him a small tired smile and hum with a nod he smiles back and kisses your cheek softly- he leans to grab some gloves and slips them on, your eyes following the movements of the blue material with an unusually lustrous feeling bubbling up.
"Open up please." Ted's voice is strong but gentle in how he speaks, making you feel a chill down your spine- the first thing to feel slightly cold to you in days. You open your mouth and stick your tongue out a little and say "Ah" while he checks your throat for redness. He presses on your tongue on accident but keeps his fingers there once he hears the little noise from you.
And suddenly you're drooling down Ted's arm while he finger fucks your mouth with one gloved hand- the other shoved up into your cunt as you grind down on him softly and slowly, your energy being too low to do much else. Ted's soft smile and chuckles at your hoarse moans and whimpers and the way your hips keep stuttering from growing tired just make Ted all the more mean to you.
"C'mon sweetie- you want me to help you feel better? Yeah? Let Doc help you feel good, Baby."
AEEUHH.
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hi... blink... bliiinnnkkkk.... perhaappsss
whiney dom!charlie.. and a very bratty reader
shes always talking back but when Charlie is whining in her ear about how good she could be for him and all the things he wants to do to her - but she has to behave first HELLOOO
OHHH HELLOOOO OMG
warnings: NSFW || fem!reader || D/s dynamic || daddy dom!Charlie x brat!Reader || dry humping || degradation
────୨ৎ────
Charlie had you pressed up against a wall, your chest flattened against the hard surface, along with your cheek as he held your head firmly in place with one of his large hands.
his other hand was planted on your hip, guiding you back and forth against his cock. you were fully clothed, so stimulation was minimal and frustration was at its peak.
“C’mon, baby. Can’t you feel how hard I am for you?” Charlie whined in your ear, sounding downright pathetic, if you didn’t know any better you’d assume that he was slipping into a submissive headspace.
“Please, just give in. I know you wanna feel good, princess.” He rocks into the space between your thighs that he’s been fucking for the past ten minutes, just barely brushing against your clit.
“Let Daddy in, yeah? You’ll stop back talking so Daddy can be inside you, right?” he moaned, tossing his head backwards, thrusting into your thighs a little harder.
“A-hahnnn…fuck. Baby you’re always such a good girl. Why’re you being so bad?” - “I could have you folded in fuckin’ half right now.” - “Fuck…I’m gonna edge you so hard after this little stunt. Maybe I’ll let you cum…maybe I won’t.” - “Yeah that’s right. I know you need me, little cock-whore.”
the more you defied him the more vulgar he got, but still in that same whiny and pathetic tone. you knew you weren’t gonna last long.
and he knew he won when you moaned and pushed your ass back onto him.
gotcha.
────୨ৎ────
i hope this is what you meant sjksbdkeneidbe Charlie has me all fuzzy brained rnnn
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did I already post about his arms? If not...⁄(⁄ ⁄•⁄-⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄




im just saying I want him 2 choke me with his arms ლ(・﹏・ლ) you'd probably have to hold onto his arms while he fucks you .﹏.
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Hmmmm.... overstim with schlat.... hm....

(God I just wanna grab him an' squish!)
Horny rambles below the cut, yall know the drill <3
Okay so I'm a huge overstim schlatt truther!! Man's just doesn't know when to stop, hes far too addicted to the way you feel.
It doesn't matter if hes already stuffed you with cum twice, this man's is still rutting his dick into you like a man possessed.
He's got you pressed into the mattress with a warm palm against your stomach, curled over you protectively
Whines and groans against ur skin "fuck- baby you feel so good-" "Ah! Cmon, lemme go again, please-"
And ofc he fucks u into overstim too as a result, and hes soooo sorry but you just feel too good! He just has to hold you still and grip ur hips when you try to squirm away!🥺
"Hold still, baby- cmon just take it-" "i need to feel you, just hold on a bit longer honey-"
Feels lowkey embarrassed afterwards abt how desperately he got, makes sure to clean u up and check that ur okay🙏
God I need him so baddddd😫
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HEY!!! SCHLATT PISS KINK!!! GET TO IT GET A MOVE ON 🤺 GET BACK TO WORKK! I SAID GET BaCK TO WORK BRUVV
OH MY GOD THANK U ANON I TOTALLY FORGOT😭

How does he have the perfect profile for a 3/4th view-
Anyways piss kink below the cut yall know the drill.
Schlatt who has ZERO respect for ur privacy😔 that bathroom door means nothing to him it may as well not be there.
Sure he hops in the shower with you, and yall have gotten plenty freaky in there before (and you may have drank his piss-)
But he at least tries to leave you alone when ur pissing, bc you get all whiny when he does.
"Schlatt! Get out babe, im busy!!"
"Toots its nothing ive not seen before-"
"Schlatt!" "....fine."
Ofc when you've been acting bratty all week hes not too keen to be nice to you.
Which leads to him walking in while ur sat on the toilet, knocking your feet apart to stand between them, and unbuckling his belt.
You assume hes gonna make you suck him off, which he *has* done before.
But hes got other plans, angling his cock down and leaning forward with a hand against the all, caging you in.
With all groan schlatt lets go, pissing directly on your crotch. You gasp, try to squirm away, but there's really nowhere to go.
He grins down at you, drinking in the embarrassed flush on your face. "Whats wrong baby? You've been acting like a bitch all week, needed a reminder of who you are."
Its warm, disgusting and horribly arousing. You cover your mouth, ashamed of the moan that threatens to escape. Schlatt just laughs.
The worst part? Once schlatts done he tucks himself back in, and fucking leaves.
Not even a kiss, nothing. Leaves you on the edge and craving his touch, with only the piss cooling on your skin.
Uhhhh I was going somewhere with this...
Idk man just think abt it.
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imagine schlatt going ‘biggg stretch’ while pushing his cock into your pussy
Yknow that pet voice he uses with jambo? Yeah he uses that same voice when ur too cockdrunk to even form words and ur just babbling mindlessly, writhing beneath him. "Awe cmon baby, you can take it! Yes you can!" Type shit
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Schlatt pls let me suck ur dick pleaseeee....

Horny rambles below the cut.
(Mild free use themes??? Idk yall know im a freak be aware)
Sucking him off while he's doing something else😫🙏
Heavy cock nestled into ur throat while he's scrolling on his phone or doing something on his computer.
He's hardly paying you any mind, hips twitching every so often, a small groan here and there.
But this? Oh its all for you. You're fucking insatiable, and as much as he loves you schlatt has other things to do, so this is the compromise
You get to gag and choke on his dick, earbuds playing your favourite music or maybe a podcast, and he can actually get some stuff done.
God I cant even begin to explain how appealing this is😫😫
Like its late evening, yall are just lazing on the couch, and without a second thought you slip onto the floor between his thighs. The only acknowledgement you get is schlatt passing you a pillow to kneel on.
You just cant help it! His cock just fits so well inside your mouth, and its so fun to sink down and inhale his musk!!
(Also let's be real you force feed this man pineapple juice and all that good shit bc gamersupps has turned his cum to battery acid😔🙏)
Sometimes he runs a hand through your hair, not really involved in what you're doing, moreso an absent gesture of affection.
Uhhhh yeah I need him carnally.
Wow its been a whole since I posted horny rambles.
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Thinking abt schlatt and casual touch...

(OH MY GOD HIS HAIR🙏🙏)
I feel like one of his big love languages (along with gift giving) is casual touch.
No matter where you are, hes got a hand on you.
Hanging out on the couch? He's got his head resting in your lap, or hes pulling your feet up onto his lap
In the kitchen making dinner? He's got a hand draped over your shoulder, tethered to you as you work. (He's not allowed to prep any food, somehow he always fucks it up)
driving somewhere? He's got a hand right above ur knees, not even in a sexual way, just resting there.
Yknow that thing, where someone holds out an open hand, expecting thier partner to grab it? Yeah thats him, constantly.
Makes little grabby hands at you, gets pouty when u dont immediately touch him😔
Heavens forbid its cold out! He insists you pit your hands in his jacket pockets, its for your own safety!
Horny rambles below the cut beware (plus visuals)
Schlat is a total menace with physical touch, he just wants to touch you and doesn't even realize how horny he makes you half the time.
Yall are cuddling in bed, doing separate things on your phones. You're half laying on him, legs haphazardly draped over him. So schlatt reaches down and grips the back of your thigh, hikes them higher to rest comfortably in the valley where his thigh meets stomach.
Manhandles u so often bc hes just gotta feel ur body in the perfect way.
Yes he will shove his hand between ur thighs just for funsies lol. Uses u like a little fidget toy🙏
Also likes to grope u without any intent to take it anywhere, riles u up like hell then acts confused when ur whining for him.
"Huh? What's wrong toots? You need something?"
Let's u ride his thigh if ur that desperate, grips ur hips to guide you.
cockwarm this man please he'll propose on the spot🙏
After sex cuddles are a MUST!! You gotta fight for ur life to go piss afterwards bc if he had it his way yall would be conked out instantly.



^^^ how yall spend 90% of ur time together at home
Uhhh in conclusion I need to feel the heat of his skin warm against mine
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