#jschlatt fluff

farmer!schlatt smells like dirt, wood chips and something rich you've never been able to place.

farmer!schlatt's favorite nicknames to call you are darlin, sweetheart, and honey. sometimes he calls you ‘kid’ but old habits die hard.

farmer!schlatt whose favorite place to kiss you is on your forehead. sweet but efficient.

farmer!schlatt lets you decorate the log cabin you both live in, however you want. as long as his girl is happy. he loves how you're able to liven the place up.

farmer!schlatt takes you to his favorite fishing hole, showing you where he's spent most of his time. tells you that he doesn't even fish half the time, just likes the view of the water.

farmer!schlatt loves nothing more than to sit around a bonfire with you. puts his big hands on your hips and places you in the center of his lap, his arms snaking around your waist. the intensity of the flame is nothing compared to what he makes you feel.

farmer!schlatt is an amazing cook, not to mention, most of his vegetables that he grew himself. there's something about hard work that makes it taste better. he loves getting to cook for you, showing you with action how much he loves you.

farmer!schlatt’s favorite times are when he wakes up, sunshining through the curtains. your body curled into his, your head is placed on his chest, softly sleeping. these mornings are his favorite, because he gets to admire you.

it's not uncommon for farmer!schlatt to surprise you with a bouquet of wildflowers, he picked for you on the way home. a myriad of purples, blues and yellows that now decorate the vase in the middle of your dining table.

farmer!schlatt is the ceo of overstimulation, looooves getting to see you squirm for him. of course, if that's what you want. but he can get a little sadistic with it.

i hope you're comfortable with riding faces because it's almost non-negotiable with him. (unless u r genuinely uncomfortable) farmer!schlatt wants you riding those chops, like your life depends on it. wants his face to be drenched, and god forbid if you try to hover? he's grabbing your thighs, ass, hips, whatever he can get his hands on, and pulling you down. if he dies like this, he'll die happy.

while farmer!schlatt is literally so grateful to have you in any position, his favorite is when you're on top. loves being able to see every little face you make, gets to admire your body, grabbing your boobs, your hips, your thighs.

farmer!schlatt will fuck you literally anywhere. in the truck, on the couch, on the counter, in the barn. he doesn't give a fuck, if you're willing, he will.

one of schlatt’s ways of showing love was… interesting, to say the least.

look, schlatt was a big guy, everybody knew this. towering over 6’3, the man was well over average height. it made him look intimidating; tall, broad, gruff attitude, kind of an asshole if you didn’t know him, but he’s such a sweet guy, really!

and he loved you to bits. you had been dating for a bit over a year now, you moved in together recently, and you noticed that for schlatt, there wasn’t anything more relaxing than crushing you after a long day.

literally.

you would be laying on the couch, reading a book or scrolling through your phone, when the brunette would literally materialize out of nowhere and proceed to wordlessly plop his whole 200 pound body over yours, squeezing all the air out of your lungs.

“oof-“ you breathed out at the added weight.

he just groaned, mumbling something into your chest. of course, all you could hear were “mmph”’s, along with the soft vibration of his words against your chest

“what?”

he moved his head so that he could talk

“these are way comfier than a pillow, sweetheart” he muttered, pressing a kiss to your collarbone

“yeah?” you asked softly, your hand going to his hair instinctively

he nodded, dropping his head back down to rest on your chest.

a few minutes passed in silence, where he just relaxed completely under your soft touch on his brown locks.

you absolutely loved playing with his hair, touching his soft curls, running your hands through them and making small braids then undoing them.

and you know he loves having his hair fiddled with.

“long day?” you asked softly

“way too long” he replied

“wanna talk about it?”

“…not yet” he answered “but at this point, you’re the only thing keeping me sane”

“what about jambo and soup?” you joked, looking up at the two cute cats perched on their tree, lounging lazily

“okay, maybe those little bastards too”

you smiled softly. despite him crushing your bones, he felt like a big, warm, weighted blanket— perhaps one a bit too heavy, god knows if you would wake up if you fell asleep this way — but a weighted blanket nonetheless.

“takeout?” you offered

“can we order from that ramen place?”

“ohh, good idea”

a/n: i feel like schlatt would be so cuddly when he’s tired. all his defenses go down and he just craves physical touch and he melts when he gets it. like honestly- think about it. IM NOT (THAT) CRAZY

also i’m a sucker for like- physical contact in areas that would usually be seen as sexual but in a domestic setting. am i making sense? i hope i am. i might not be.

He had intended to surprise you, honestly - coming home a few days early with some cute plushies he saw in Japan that made him think of you, schooling his excitement when he took the stairs two at a time, thinking of the excitement in your eyes when he surprised you. He hated how much it melted him, but your excitement was one of the few things that always did.

As the front door clicked open when he turned the key, that school boy crush is the last thing on his mind as the unmistakable sound of your moans flooded the air and shot through his veins like magma.

Desperate. That's the only way to describe them. Desperate, barely muffled whine's coming from the hallway leading to your bedroom, unmistakably you. He could hear the bed creaking, rocking back and forth with movements as your whimpers grew muffled. He could imagine the way you must've shifted in bed, face down surely, ass up, biting into your pillow as someone fucked you from behind. His hand went to palm his cock through his jeans before he even realised he was doing it.

The relief at the touch was instantaneous, a groan almost spilling freely from his lips before he chokes it back and rips his hand away from himself, dumping his bag at the door. He knew he should announce himself, leave even, but his body had a mind of it's own. He knew his erection wouldn't go down without relief, and who was he to deprive himself of this one, horrible, self satisfying fantasy. He was such a good roommate after all, he deserved this didn't he?

His body seemed to decide on it's own, even as his brain struggled with the choice he was making - hand going for his belt, feet carrying him down the hallway, towards your room - those beautiful, muffled moans a siren's song.

He stopped at your door just as he slipped his hand into his boxers, under his jeans, hips rutting against his palm despite the awkward tightness the angle posed, forehead dropping to rest on your door as he panted desperately instead of moaning like he wanted to.

He could hear you, your heavy breathing, your whining invading his senses, your arousal lewdly squelching with each thrust. God he could nearly taste you it was so clear how wet you were. He let his eyes flutter shut, mouth hanging open in a deep pant as he palmed his cock, picturing you perfectly.

He could imagine how tight you were, wrapped around the cock pounding into you from behind as you gripped the pillows. What he'd do to tangle his hand in your hair and force your head up, watching you drool as his thick length stretched you, unobstructed by the pillow as you moaned his name.

He's surprised whatever lucky bastard was fucking you stupid wasn't doing the same. He'd never live with himself if he got that chance and didn't get to hear the sweet moans of his name from your lips. Unless you were alone.

The thought made his stomach clench, cock twitching in his palm as he finally wrapped his hand fully around his acking length, slick with precum as he began to stroke in short, confined strokes. You must be alone, all he can hear is you. You're touching yourself.

He so desperately wasn't to crack the door open and see. Watch you pound yourself with a toy, struggling to keep to a pace that keeps you satisfied as you desperate push yourself towards the edge. He wants to see your juices drip down the toy, your body rock back against it when your hand gets tired. He wants to help, to take the toy away and bury his face in your gaping hole and lap you clean until you cry.

He fishes his cock out finally, free hand coming up to cover his mouth just in time to muffle the moan of relief that spills free. He was throbbing hard, so close to the edge already which only worsened when your moans grew louder, no doubt shifting your position so your moans weren't muffled.

He's sure you had started riding the toy, based on the way the springs were creaking now instead of the whole bed shaking. The thought alone had his thighs shaking, a string of precum leaking from his aching tip and smearing across his wrist as his hand moved faster. Faster, in time with your moans. You sounded so fucking wet it's almost like he could feel it, imagining the slickness in his palm the feeling of your tight heat around him, the wetness dripping down his neck your tongue and not his drool.

Your moan's peaked far too soon, a desperate cry spilling from your lips far too early for his relief, gorgeous and wrecked with pleasure. Pleasure he's sure he could double if you'd just give him a chance. Just one chance and he know's you'd never want anyone else.

The silence that follows your orgasmic bliss is deafening to him, sending the reality of what he's actually doing crashing over him, the primal desire far outweighing the tiny voice of guilt in the back of his head as he keeps his hand pumping his length.

It's not until he hears the unmistakable sound of your dresser drawers opening that his eyes snap open, fear flooding his nervous system but not enough to soften his weeping cock. He makes a split decision, waddling down the hallway as quiet as he can, pants awkwardly around his upper thighs as he forces his cock back into his boxers - a decision he's thankful for when he manages to slip into his office just as your bedroom door opens.

His heart was pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears, drowning out your footsteps that were moving down the hallway. Getting quieter. Oh thank god, you were going to the bathroom.

The sound of the bathroom door shutting is enough reassurance in his depraved state to give him the go ahead again, hand wrapping around his still hard cock once more as he peeks past the doorway to make sure the coast was clear. The light coming from the crack in the bathroom door, and the sound shortly after of the shower running was all the reassurance he needed that you weren't going to come back and catch him.

He didn't have long, but he knew he could make himself cum. The close call had pulled him away from the edge, but it didn't take long for him to work himself back up as his feet carried him towards your room. You left the door wide open, of course thinking you were alone, and he just waltzed right in, standing like a fool in the middle of your room as he jerked his cock.

He didn't wanna shut the door, couldn't risk not hearing you turn the shower off. He couldn't sit on your bed, no matter how badly he wanted to bury his face in your pillow and breathe in your scent, he knew it was too risky messing up your bed sheets. He could however, pick up your underwear.

Black, cotton pair tossed haphazardly on the floor, no doubt in your desperation to make yourself cum - he had no problem in the state he was in picking them up and bringing them to his nose. His cock pulsed with need as he inhaled deeply, groaning into the fabric as your sweat and musky arousal invaded his senses. The underwear were damp, cool and sticky against his faces as he pressed the fabric against himself. He's sure by how wet they were that you'd been aroused all day. Walking around all day with a throbbing ache between your legs, that no one knew about except yourself and him right now. You were just as much of a pervert as he was, he tried to convince himself.

His tongue darted out to drag against the fabric, moaning embarrassingly desperate as he tastes your desire on the cotton, hand moving faster and faster as he lets himself get lost in the fantasy. What he wouldn't do t be able to have seen you like this today, to slip his hand under your clothing and feel this desperation against his fingers as he touched you. He'd make you feel so good he knew that, you'd be begging for him.

His orgasm crashed into him rapidly, balls tightening, stomach clenching as he folded over, moaning unrestrained and unashamed as he held the cotton underwear in his palm. Stroking himself with one hand as your name spilled from his lips, he wrapped the fabric around the tip with his palm, feeling himself pulse as he came, hard, coating the fabric in the evidence of his depravity. All he could think about as he came was slipping these underwear back into your drawer, praying you'd slip them on tomorrow morning without seeing the mess he left, and walk around all day with his cum pressed against you.

As he stood there, panting, throbbing, cock leaking pearlescent beads of cum he tried as hard as he could to keep the guilt down in his post nut clarity, wanting to act on his one last fantasy before he felt the anxiety hit. It hit all too soon when he heard your voice behind him.

For the past few months, the two of you had been growing closer as friends. It started with him asking for help editing clips from a trucking sim stream to create shorts. He wanted outside eyes to pick the best moments without the bias of what he considered funny, so you made the drive to his place and let him teach you the basics of his editing software. You’d bantered back and forth with each other while splicing scenes together to make clips. Schlatt had filmed a handful of video intros while you edited, and you couldn’t help but sneak glances at him anytime he turned his persona on. It’s kinda hot, you thought, watching a man who always spoke politely and softly to you one-on-one flip a switch and become a loud and boisterous asshole.

You would shiver anytime he stood behind you, hands on the back of the chair you were in as he checked to see your progress. You swore to yourself, vowing to push any feelings down and away, and not let them interfere with your growing friendship.

Enjoying the work you had done, Schlatt invited you back several more times to edit more shorts for his channels. You thoroughly liked spending time with him like this, parallel playing in comfortable silence. Occasionally, he would put his hands on your shoulders and squeeze as if giving a shoulder massage or gentle pat on the back, which was always unexpected but never not appreciated.

The editing and clipping lead to him asking you to help with filming, going over the basics of camera operation and teaching you how to get his good side. Filming lead to you helping him out with various projects, having gained enough trust from him to voice ideas and opinions that you thought would improve the project or make it flop. Often he would place a gentle hand on the small of your back while walking around a location with you, leaning down close to your face to better hear you. It would make your heart race anytime you felt his breath close to your cheek, and anytime a hand ghosted over your hip you thought you would explode.

Pretty soon after, you had become his shadow, following Schlatt everywhere he went, and with time, you noticed more confident and intentional touches from Schlatt. He’d wrap an arm around your shoulder while watching a movie on his couch or reach out to hold your hand while walking. Every touch felt electric, and every time you hung out you felt tension grow.

The moment that had changed everything for you was during a trip to the grocery store. Schlatt had asked you to accompany him and help pick out ingredients for meal prepping. You had taken a few nutrition and health classes and he thought you’d be able to help him put together healthy meals. You joked with him the ride there about his tendency to latch onto junk food, and decided to be a little bold and make a comment about semen.

“I bet your cum tastes like battery acid,” your statement caught him and yourself off guard. He scoffed and glanced over at you, taking his right hand off the steering wheel. “You eat like shit, you need to eat some pineapple or something.” His hand came to rest on your left knee as you finished your sentence, electricity shooting through your body. He gave a devious smirk to you.

“Oh?” He says pulling into the parking lot. He removes his hand to put the car in park, but then places it back on your leg, this time on your thigh, inching closer to your core. “Well, I bet you taste pretty sweet.” Your eyes were wide as saucers as a blush washed over your face. You shifted your gaze to your hands placed in your lap. Schlatt lifted the hand resting on your thigh before bringing it back down with a soft slap. The sensation shocked you and made you jump, but at the same time turned you on just a tiiiiiiny bit.

“C’mon, I wanna get this over with as fast as possible.”

That was two weeks ago, and since then the teasing only grew more and more common.

You watched as Schlatt set his bags down by the hotel’s door, snapping back to reality.

As Schlatt turned various lights on you couldn’t help but stare at everything in awe. The entry area was huge, with a large table and chairs, and you were envious at how spacious it was. You ran a finger along the hardwood as you followed your friends further into the suite, eyes darting between the expensive looking art on the walls and the wall-mounted television displaying a slideshow of the hotel’s garden.

“Holy shit, look at this bed,” you heard Schlatt call out, turning your attention towards him. He sat down on the edge and bounced a few times, laughing. “Shits not even against the wall and barely squeaks.” He continues laughing as he stands up and beckons Trevor to follow him into the closet and bathroom behind the false wall.

You stayed behind, feet planted in the bedroom and mind racing with naughty thoughts.

“Maybe tonight’s the night.” You mumbled to yourself, shaking your head to rid of the impure images stirring up.

Your small group finished your self guided tour around the room, and Trevor and Schlatt began setting up to film. You separated yourself from the boys, deciding to settle down on one of the soft couches and give your legs a break.

You watched Trevor follow Schlatt around, zooming in on various features that only a rich asshole would think to have. Who the fuck needs a flashlight in a closet? Fucking yuppies.

The filming concluded with the boys clinking together cans of beer, showing off the view from the balcony. You had excused yourself to the hall to make a phone call, checking in with your best friend to let them know you safely made it to the hotel. You knocked on the door, hoping one of the boys would hear you, only to be surprised that Trevor had opened it, his bags in hand.

“Oh! Are you not staying with us? I thought Jay said the three of us would share the room.” You stared up at him with a quizzical look, confused about this deviation from the plan you were informed of. Trevor gave you a sheepish grin, motioning for you to enter the room.

“Nah, I’m staying down the street,” you switch spots with him, you now holding the door open for the man. “Try not to have too much fun. We’ve got an early day with the boys tomorrow.” Trevor winked at you before walking down the hall to the elevator. You let the door shut behind you as you made your way back over to the couch you previously occupied. Schlatt was now sitting there, one leg resting on the table in front of it, phone pulled close to his face as he typed away. You cleared your throat and plopped down next to him.

“Why’d Trevor leave?” You asked him, plopping yourself down next to the man. He looked up from his phone to smile at you, locking the device and setting it on the arm of the couch.

“Oh, he didn’t wanna share a room. Somethin’ ‘bout missin’ his girl, probably gonna jack off on FaceTime with ‘er.” You laughed, a little caught off guard by his response, but also a little distracted by the arm that had come up around your shoulders. The touch made you shiver.

“‘Ya wanna watch a movie or somethin’ doll?” Jay asks. You nod and he brings the remote up, scanning through the channels. The nickname caused the hairs on the back of your neck to stick up. Pet names had been new between you two, and every time he used one, you had to fight the urge to climb onto his lap and shove your tongue down his throat. You crossed one leg over the other and squeezed them tight together, an attempt at self control.

He settles on some shitty 90’s action flick that doesn’t hold your attention. Maybe this was intentional, you thought, pressing yourself closer into his side. You don’t notice the way his breath hitches in his throat at your movement, but you do notice when the arm around your shoulders slinks down, hand now gently resting at your hip. You try to focus on the film playing out, but the tension between you and the man next to you is much more distracting.

About ten minutes in, you feel Schlatt shift. You subtly try to glance over at him, only to be distracted by the growing problem in his lap that he is trying to cover with a pillow. You pretend to not notice what he’s attempting to fix and instead bring a hand up to place on a chest, only to have the large hand on your hip squeeze gently.

“Oh.” Schlatt whispered, and you could feel his heart rate pick up pace under your palm. You swallowed a growing lump in your throat and said a silent prayer before speaking up yourself.

“Is this okay?” You whisper back at him, too nervous to bring your eyes up to his. You feel him nod, his eyes not leaving the television screen, and melt a little more into his side. Your mind was racing, trying to think of something sly to say when he cleared his throat.

“Um… can we… uuhhh…” you look up at him and notice how red his cheeks and ears had gotten, not helping your own growing desire to see this man flustered and falling apart. You took a deep breath and put on a brave face.

“Can we what, Jay?” You ask, hand boldly coming up to rest on his cheek, pulling his attention to you instead of the screen. His eyes flicked from your eyes to lips, then back to your eyes. Okay, maybe we are getting somewhere.

“Would it be weird if we, uhh….” He trailed off, bringing his left hand to rub at the back of his neck. “Cuddled? I guess?” His voice was quiet, almost mouse like. You couldn’t help but giggle at him, motioning for him to move.

“I’d be more that fine with that, Jay.” Your words came out more seductive that you had intended, but as he readjusted himself and the pillow slipped off his lap, you couldn’t help but notice the way his… not-so-little friend twitched.

Once he was settled, you clambered back over to him, tucking yourself into his side. His arm came to rest around you once more, hand placed halfway between your hip and ass.

The two of you returned your eyes back to the television, but it was clear that neither were paying attention to whatever the hell this film was.

About twenty minutes after switching positions, you noticed Schlatt’s hand slowly pushing the hem of your shirt up, fingers ghosting over the skin of your stomach. You squeezed your legs together tightly, crossing your ankles, and couldn’t help but let out a gasp as one of his digits traced over a particular sensitive patch of skin. Your heart began pounding inside your chest, and you started thinking of ways to excuse yourself to go take care of your now soaked panties. You felt Schlatt’s hand rub back over your hip and squeeze, only adding to your problem.

C’mon, you’re a big girl. You can only do this two ways, you thought. Obviously there’s some sort of attraction here if he’s trying to hide his boner and you’re wetter than the fucking sea. Either get up and take a cold shower, possibly making things awkward between you guys, or man the fuck up and make a move, which could also possibly make things awkward between you. You understood that the logical side of you would probably be the better bet and make this less awkward that it needed to be, but the horny side was shouting over the logical, winning this yelling match. It’s been months since anyone’s touched you, and you’ve always wondered what he was like in bed anyways. Grow a pair and make the fucking move. You swallowed hard, kicking your plan into action.

“Schlatt,” your voice wavered nervously.

“Yeah?” His sounded much the same. Now or never.

“Can I…” you trailed off, finding the strength to speak your peace. You sat up, brushing a few strands of hair out of your face, turning to make eye contact with him. This is it, bitch. “Can I… can I try something?” You notice the way his pupils widen and Adam’s apple bob at your words, waiting for a response. He nods, eyes not leaving yours.

Letting your body take control, you swing a leg over his hips, straddling the man before leaning down to whisper in his ear.

“You can stop me at any point,” you flick your tongue over his earlobe, eliciting a small moan from the man, only fueling you. “I won’t be offended.” You feel two large hands latch onto your hips as you begin to place wet kisses down his neck, facial hair tickling your nose. You work your way across his neck, left to right, letting your hands wander under his tee-shirt, slowly pushing the fabric up towards his shoulders. You feel one of his hands leave your hip, and you pull his shirt up a bit as if asking him to take it off. He removes the other hand and obliges, returning them back to your body. You push back a bit to drink this new view in, taking a finger to trace over the patches of hair covering his chest before latching your lips to his collarbone. You continue to work your lips and tongue across his body, only stopping when you feel a hand shake through your hair, tugging it into a makeshift ponytail. You stop, eyes shooting up to his.

“Sweetheart,” his voice is raspy, almost lost. For a moment you’re worried you’ve crossed a line. “This isn’t very fair t’me. Wanna change that?” He tugs up the hem of your shirt as if asking for permission, only for you to whip it over your head before he can do it himself. Before the shirt hits the floor, his hands are grabbing at your chest and you have to thank yourself for not wearing a bra today. He pulls you forward, latching his own lips to your neck now, kissing and licking his way to your nipples while pushing your breasts together. You can’t help but moan as he sucks on the tissue, hands exploring your tits. He pulls his mouth off with a “pop”.

“You have no fuckin’ idea how long I’ve been wanting to do this,” He lets go of your chest, hands snaking down to your thighs. He hoists you up off of his lap briefly before standing himself, now carrying you further into the room. “You’re like a fucking succubus, y’know?” With a few strides, he’s throwing you down onto the bed before reaching down to unzip his shorts. As soon as he undoes the button, you reach out to stop him.

“Wait- can I do that?” Before he can respond, you’re sliding off the bed and sinking down to your knees, hands grabbing at the skin above his knees. You lean forward, eyes locking directly with his, and take the zipper between your teeth, tugging the metal down. His eyes roll back and he moans, as a hand once again grabs ahold of your hair, tugging it back.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re gonna be the death of me.” He mutters, stepping out of the shorts and letting them drop to the floor after pulling your hair, guiding you away to let the garment fall. Before he could get another word in, your hands latch onto the elastic of his boxers as you lick your lips. He tugs on your hair again, pulling you back.

“If I remember correctly, you said my cum probably tastes like battery acid, and yet here you are, desperately begging for my dick,” he sounds smug and has a smirk painting his lips, which is doing nothing but turning you on even more. He pulls you up, still by the hair, before letting go of it and shoving you down on the bed by your shoulders. “I don’t think that’s very fair that you get to make fun of me then try and make me cum, princess. I’ve been starving all day, let me have dessert first, yeah?”

He has one hand fondling your breasts as the other tugs down your leggings, the cold air of the room sending a tingle to your core via the soaked lace thong now exposed to him. He tosses the article of clothing behind him and crouches down to kneel between your legs, whistling at the view.

“Did you wear these for me?” He talks down to you while slipping a finger under the waistband, snapping the elastic against your skin before leaning down to press a kiss to your hip. You whine and buck your hips up, anything to feel some sort of relief. Schlatt chuckles at you, and it sounds pitiful.

“Please, Jay, please.” You whine again, writhing.

“Please, what, doll?” He teases, hot breath hovering by your belly button.

“Please just tou-“ you cut yourself off with a moan, feeling the man in front of you lick a stripe up your slit, facial hair tickling your thighs. Your hands latch onto the thick strands of his hair, pulling him back down to your pussy. You feel him move the thin lace with his teeth before his tongue makes direct contact with your clit. He hums into you, dragging his tongue through your folds before pursing his lips around your clit once again.

You can’t help it when your legs wrap around his head, and from the groans coming from the larger man, he didn’t mind one bit. He brought arm up to hold you down, resting it across your lower stomach, while snaking his other hand between your legs, teasing at your labia before slipping inside you.

“Fuck,” you moaned, throwing your head back. Never in a million years did you think this would become a reality. You had always assumed Schlatt would rather be on the receiving end of head, but here in this moment, you wanted to thank any past lovers of his for teaching him how to use his mouth for something other than snarky comments. “Jay, I- I’m-“ you moaned again, eyes shutting tightly as his fingers curled up inside you just so. You've only just started, but with the stress from the past week of travel, you were coming undone in record time.

“Jus’ fuckin’ cum, needa fuckin’ taste you,” he barked out, barely lifting himself off of you to speak. Between the pressure on your stomach, his long fingers reaching spots you’ve never been able to, along with his tongue and lips on your clit, you couldn’t hold on much longer. You felt a familiar pressure building inside of you, causing you to cry out louder than before.

“I’m gonna- I’m go-,” you felt his tongue pick up speed in tandem with his fingers and you let go, shaking as the most intense orgasm you’ve had in a long while rocked your world. You were crying out, tears spilling from your eyes as he continued his magic, working you through the height of it all. You felt him withdraw his fingers and take a deep breath once your own had steadied out, and you were fearful to make eye contact with him. You settled for staring at his soaked shoulder, following it as he stood up and hovered over you.

“I’m so sorry, Jay I should’ve said something bef-“ you were cut off by his lips crashing into yours, the taste and slick of your arousal very present on his lips and mustache. He pulled back and rested his forehead against yours, and you couldn’t help but finally make eye contact with him. His eyes were half lidded and looked awestruck.

“I coulda’ been makin’ ya’ squirt like that for months? Fuck, I’ve been missing out.” He leaned back in to kiss you again, bringing a sticky hand up to your cheek. You pulled back to take a deep breath before sliding your hand down his chest again and clearing your throat.

“So, um… you want me to give you a blowjob now or…?” You trailed off and Schlatt scoffed, moving your hand to the front of his boxers where a cold wet spot had formed.

“I’m not opposed, but you’re gonna have t’ give me like twenty minutes,” you looked up at him confused before he continued with a sheepish grin. “I came in my boxers the second you started tuggin’ on my hair.”