#chuckle sammy

[sblominic]

underchuckle sandwichtale

also heres them talking

[hufflepuffsthunderdome]

Private Time

Jschlatt x nb!reader Summary: Schlatt get's home from a trip and just happens to walk in on his dream fantasy - how can he be expected not to make the most of this? Warnings: male masturbation, dub!con, schlatt is a perv, peeping tom, non specific reader underwear and genitalia, kinda light incel schlatt A/N: first time writing smut in so long so... please tell me if it sucks. It's not as pervy as the pictures I used make it seem but they were the best I could find

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.

"Jay? What're you doing home?"

[schlarting-rn]

you know what time it is jschlatt fans… new vid, new fic. (although it’s been months). this fic is based off of this answer from his “Answering Your UNSETTLING Questions” video. yes i submitted an answer, no he did not answer it. ANYWAYS

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warnings: fiancé!schlatt x afab!reader, p-in-v sex, porn basically without plot, breeding, mirror sex, backshots, mating press, belly bulge, nicknames(toots, baby, mama, wifey, sweetheart, sweet girl, you call him daddy once), uhh general just filth? lmk if i missed anything

word count: 622

a/n: MDNI, 18+ ONLY, smut under the cut!! (not proofread) likes/reblogs appreciated!! (absolute filth under the cut)

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plap plap plap “Ffuckk toots, so g-good for me. Such a good little wifey, yeah?” you can barely open your eyes, let alone respond to his words. you let out a small mewl, reaching back for his hand.

the large man takes your outreached hand and places kisses on the new addition to your jewelry stack.

“looks so fuckin’ pretty on your finger. you’re all mine now— fuck, yeah, just like that…”

his free hand grips the fat of your ass tightly, pulling you backwards onto him. “hnn—jayyy” you whine, glancing up at the mirror in front of you.

you can see this sort of… crazed look in his eyes. “b-baby..?”

“you know toots,” jay starts, “you’d look beautiful all nice and round. just, sittin’ on the couch, restin’ your feet… how’s that sound? hm?”

his strokes are more deliberate, deeper, and harsher. “a baby? haaa…” he nods, releasing your bottom and holding your waist.

“yeah that’s right. a baby. it’ll be—fuck—perfect.“ jay’s eyes catch yours in the mirror. “fuckk baby, i can feel you suckin’ me in already, like you don’t want me to leave.” he curls over you, his chest above your back. soft kisses are placed on your cheek.

“just imagine it baby,” says the new yorker, “you, me, a baby, maybe two, three, four babies, the cats… it’ll be perfect. just say the word ‘nd i’ll breed you so hard, mama.”

a shudder runs down your frame at the word. you bite your lip, contemplating. though it’s hard when your fiancé has his member basically splitting you in half.

“ye-yes… want a bunch of babies…” he grins wide, chest straightening back up. then in an instant, you’re flipped over, looking up at your fiancé.

“jay…?” but he just grins, hooking his arms under your knees and pushing them to your chest.

“y’er gonna feel me reeeeal deep, mama.”

jay smirks, then pushes into you slow and deep. air escapes your lungs, the full feeling overtaking all of your other senses. then as if a switch flipped, his hips slam against yours, the pace punishing. though is it really a punishment if you’re enjoying it?

each thrust he makes bullies his tip against your cervix, and it keeps on hitting, hitting, hitting the sweetest spot inside of you.

your legs feel like static, feeling coming back just a little whenever schlatt places a kiss on your ankle. “jay m’gonna—!”

“i know sweetheart, i know.” you clench around him, thighs shaking.

“that’s it sweet girl, give it to me” the large man takes your hand, placing kisses over the ring he chose for you.

and with that, you gush over his length, a long drawn out moan escaping your lips and slipping into his own. after you’ve come down from your high you mewl, your hand snaking down to your lower belly, where you can feel the throb of your lover’s cock.

“yeah that’s right toots, that’s my love for you. i wanna do this with ya, wanna get married, have a family, grow old together. nothing else matters,” thrust “more” thrust “than” thrust “you.”

and with that, he spills inside of you, his warm seed filling up every crevice inside of your womb.

a shudder runs through you as you reach your arms out for him, and he complies, stuffing his face into the crook of your neck.

“y’er gonna be such a good mama, you know that?”

you laugh softly, placing a kiss on his sweaty head. “‘n you’re gonna make such a good daddy~” he picks his head for a moment, a dangerous glint in his eyes, and you can feel him hardening up again inside of you.

“don’t start something you can’t finish, mama.”

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a/n: hai!! lmk if you liked it, comment, like, reblog, anything is appreciated!! if you got this far and you’d like to, leave a little 🐈 or 🐈‍⬛ in the comments, for our little jambo and burnt soup :3 luv you guys!!

[the-ody-ssey]

recently I've had this unhealthy obsession with ted nivison.

and by recently i mean every single day.

by this point he's not even a hear me out, he's an EAT ME OUT™.

[dwellstar]

ted talks you through it

mdni 18+

--

your back is pressed to his broad torso, shaking with every other inhale.

ted's arm stretches down your body and stops between your hips. your hands barely fit around his forearm as you cling to him for stability.

his fingers have been working on you for what feels like an eternity, swiping across your clit and pumping in and out of you. he brings you so close to ecstasy but keeps slowing down right when you're about to break.

your clit throbs in need.

"you've been doing so good for me, honey," ted kisses your temple.

your head lolls back on his chest as you let out a breathy moan.

"gonna give you what you need now, ok?" he whispers into your ear.

you nod and adjust yourself for him.

you feel two of his thick fingers plunge deep into your cunt while his thumb finds its place on your swollen bud. he starts to trace figure eights against you.

"you're so gorgeous...look like a fuckin' angel," he praises.

his movements speed up and you can feel the familiar tinge of your orgasm return.

"you're so tight, can barely fit my fingers inside..." he grunts.

''always make me feel so good, teddy," you whimper.

when he laughs, you feel the vibrations rattle your body.

"you deserve to feel good," he says.

you're silent as you focus on the orgasm tempting to crash throughout your system. ted's fingers continue to massage your svelte walls, coaxing you to let go.

"c'mon, gorgeous, you can cum...wanna hear you..." ted says against your neck.

“c’mon now, honey, just breathe.”

you can't fight the way your body begins to spasm against him, your long awaited climax finally releasing. ted holds your body steady with his large arm, letting you writhe and cry out in pleasure.

"wow...so beautiful, baby...doin' so well..." he coos.

[writingduhh]

Jschlatt and Reader are in denial, but it’s obvious to everyone else that they like each other. So, at a Christmas party, they plot to try and get the two under the mistletoe together.

But…Jschlatt and Reader are actively trying to avoid mistletoe at all costs, because they don’t want to ruin their friendship or whatever reason it is that they’re in denial.

You got it!! I hope you enjoy!

Jschlatt || Mistletoe and Other Things We Avoided

The Christmas party doesn’t start loud. It becomes loud.

It begins civil enough with coats piled by the door, low music, glasses clinking politely. But as the hours stretch on, the drinks get stronger, the playlists worse, and the laughter less controlled. Someone spills red wine on the rug and decides it “adds character.” Someone else is arguing passionately about whether Die Hard counts as a Christmas movie.

You’re nursing your second drink when you hear Ted laugh sharply, delighted, and already a little drunk before you hear him say your name. You don’t catch the rest, but you don’t need to. When you look over, he’s leaning toward Tucker, both of them angled just slightly away from Schlatt, who’s across the room pouring himself something to drink.

You already know what they’re talking about.

They always do this.

It’s not subtle anymore, the way you talk about Schlatt when he’s not there. How you complain about him with a fondness that gives you away. How you mention his name in stories where he doesn’t even matter. Ted’s called you out on it more than once.

And Schlatt—well, unbeknownst to you he does the same thing.

Your mind does a quick replay of something Tucker had said earlier rust night.

“He asked if you were coming,”

Ted and Tucker are watching you like gamblers with money on the table.

You take another sip and deliberately don’t look at Schlatt. Across the room, Schlatt clocks your avoidance immediately and mirrors it with the same practiced ease. Every time your paths threaten to cross, one of you detours. It’s unconscious, almost impressive, like you’ve been rehearsing this denial for years.

Mistletoe appears sometime after the third round. You notice it because Ted is suddenly far too invested in where people are standing. He pauses near doorways, redirects traffic, compliments decorations that weren’t there an hour ago.

You spot the first sprig hanging above the kitchen threshold and pivot so fast you nearly collide with Tucker.

“Oh sorry,” you say.

He grins. “All good. Kitchen’s overrated anyway.”

You glance back. Schlatt has noticed too. He stops mid-step, then casually turns around and pretends he forgot his drink.

Neither of you comment.

You don’t acknowledge the pattern forming, but everyone else does.

Ted downs his drink and claps his hands. “Alright. Last call. Anyone staying longer than ten minutes is sleeping on the couch.”

People start to peel off. Jackets are pulled on. Goodbyes stretch longer than necessary. The party thins until it’s mostly debris. Empty bottles, low music, and the stubborn few who don’t want the night to end.

That’s when Ted makes his move.

“Hey,” he says to you, lightly blocking your path. “Schlatt left his coat in the back room. Can you grab it? He’s… busy.”

You narrow your eyes. “Busy doing what?”

Ted smiles. “Ya know, existing.”

Before you can argue, Tucker appears behind you, gently steering you forward. “I’ll help clean. Go.”

The back room is quiet, dimly lit by a single lamp. Coats are draped over a chair, familiar ones you recognize. Schlatt’s jacket is unmistakable.

He’s already there, clearly looking for the coat neither of you actually forgot. When his eyes meet yours, you realize they played you both.

The door shuts behind you with a soft, final click.

Silence.

You both notice the mistletoe at the same time.

It hangs above the doorframe, deliberate and unavoidable. No laughter erupts outside. No one bursts in. The party has moved on without you.

Schlatt exhales through his nose. “They’re assholes.”

You smile despite yourself. “The worst.”

Neither of you moves to leave.

The alcohol hums pleasantly in your veins, loosening edges but not dulling awareness. You’re acutely conscious of how close he is, how quiet it’s gotten, how long this has been coming.

Schlatt shifts his weight. His voice is lower now, steady. “Hey. Just—before anything stupid happens.”

You look at him.

“We don’t have to,” he says. “If you don’t want to. I’m not… assuming anything.”

Something in your chest softens at that.

“I know,” you say. After a beat, fueled by the liquid courage, you add, “But I want to.”

His jaw tightens briefly, like he’s holding something back. Then he nods once. “Me too.”

He steps closer, slow and deliberate, giving you every chance to change your mind.

You don’t.

The kiss is immediate but controlled. Warm, deep, intentional. His hand settles at your waist, softly grabbing, familiar in a way that makes your stomach flip. You respond without hesitation, fingers threading into his sweater while your other hand tangles in his hair, pulling him closer as if that’s exactly where you belong.

It’s not sloppy despite the drinks. It’s confident. Earned. Months of restraint finally giving way.

When you break apart, it’s with a quiet laugh, breath mingling.

“…Shit,” Schlatt murmurs, forehead resting against yours.

You softly smile, tongue seeming to trip over itself before you let out a simple “Yeah.”

Outside the room, someone whoops. Ted, probably.

Schlatt groans. “I’m gonna kill him.”

You laugh, “He’ll never let us forget this.”

He huffs a laugh, then sobers slightly. Looks at you properly.

“So,” he says, a little hesitant now, “would you wanna… go out sometime? Like—actually official. Not just this weird almost thing we’ve been doing.”

Your answer comes easily. “I’d like that.”

His grin is immediate, genuine, a little stunned. “Yeah? Okay. Good.”

When you step back into the main room hand in hand, Ted raises his glass in victory. Tucker bows theatrically.

Schlatt flips them off without moving from your side.

Outside, the cold air sobers you just enough to make the moment feel real. Schlatt reaches to squeeze your hand, leaning in, his voice low.

“Guess we were never fooling anyone.”

You smirk nudging his shoulder, “Except ourselves.”

[notschlatt]

🐶

[aesthetixhoe]

warnings: none! ill make more with nsfw things later !

CURRENTLY THINKING ABOUT my chuckle sandwich head cannons

ted:

loves being called teddy and theo but no one else calls him it :(

loves when you steal his clothes and pretends to not know where they went

forehead kisser

olive theory (or pickles, tomatoes, onion, whatever you like and he pretends not to do you can have extra)

“sweetheart”

“honey”

hugs from behind with head kisses

where he towers over you

the party was…fine. following the streamy awards, the venue being filled with content creators… which you were not. ted went to go get drinks, leaving you alone. a fish out of water. after some time standing alone awkwardly, you pull your phone out briefly to check the time and your notifications. as you’re clearing them you feel two arms come around your middle.

you momentarily flinch, caught off guard, but as soon as you feel a kiss pressed to the top of your head you relax. you turn, looking up and finding ted, craning your neck to meet his eyes.

“scare ya, hon?” he chuckles, feeling you turn around in his arms.

“just a little.” you giggle, taking the glass from his hand. “was fine when you kissed me though…” you smile slyly up at him.

“oh yeah?” he raises an eyebrow, following along with your train of thought. “how ‘bout i give you another hmm?” you beam up at him, nodding. he leans down empty hand pulling you closer by your waist, pressing his lips to yours. you smile against his mouth,exhaling softly through your nose. when you pull back and meet his eyes they’re practically shining down at you with adoration. “love showing you off, sweetheart.”

love language is touch

also words of affirmation

he says “i love you” probably 3 times an hour

loves date nights

takes candid pictures of you often (how can he not, you’re so pretty)

charlie:

when cuddling he holds your stomach so he can feel when you laugh

loves cooking for you

he often wakes up before you so he’ll make breakfast for you to wake up to

loves teaching you how to play dnd (or a different game if you already know dnd)

rock gifter

so many inside jokes

“babe”

kiss monster

“c’mere.” he says as soon as you walk into the living room with your dinner.

“char, i need to eat…” you say, sitting down beside him on the couch.

“just a second, promise.” he smiles over at you. you give him a quick peck on the lips. bad choice. he smiles evilly before you get pushed back in the couch, charlie on top of you stopping you from getting out of his grasp. he has your hands above your head, his lips kissing you wherever he can reach. your neck, your chest, he moves up to your face attacking you with his quick kisses.

you can’t conceal the giggles falling out of your mouth with his cuteness aggression. “char!” you laugh out, but to no avail. he won’t stop until he’s satisfied. he finally pulls back after covering every inch of you with his kisses. “you’re relentless!” you sigh out, getting your hands back and wrapping your arms around his neck. you pull him down to touch your lips to his, a slow, gentle kiss this time. you feel each other smiling against each others mouths.

“i have to reheat my food now!” you groan out, a soft laugh following.

will burry his head in your neck

love language is physically touch or acts of service

schlatt:

loves when you wear his clothes

quickest way to his heart is his cats

isn’t big on pda

but he will have a hand on your back guiding or holds pinkies with you to not lose you

he actually does use toots

but he also uses angel

puts his hands on your waist when standing behind you. which he often does

very introverted and doesn’t go out much

love language is quality time

every other one he brushes off by saying “it’s not big deal” or “it’s nothin’ special”

“oh hey, i got you somethin’. i left in on the counter for ya.” he says simply, walking into the living room. you get up, confused. no anniversary, no birthday… did he get you food?

you get to the counter and sitting in the middle is a long rectangular box. you furrow your brows and open it, revealing a tiffany & co necklace you saw online and really wanted. it just wasn’t in your budget for this month.

“jay… no way you bought this for me.” you half scoff in disbelief walking back into the living room.

“eh, it was nothin’. i saw you eyeing’ it on your phone couple of weeks ago. figured why not?” he says looking up at you, a slight smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. you jump into his lap, tackling him in a hug.

lowkey a sugar daddy…

sings softly around the house and gets flustered when you hear

drive by ruffles your hair

is actually a big cuddler. loves having his head laid on some part of you