Jschlatt x reader, MDNI 18+, NSFW, afab reader (female genitalia), rough sex but nothing crazy, dom / brat tamer Schlatt, no use of (Y/n)
Wc : 3,257
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The apartment was quiet, far too quiet for your liking. Schlatt had been in his office working all day and you were far beyond the point of entertaining yourself. You could hear a pin drop, or more like you could hear Jambo’s little footsteps whenever he got out of bed to meander around. If you concentrated real hard, you could almost hear Schlatt clacking away on his keyboard a room away. All of the blankets and pillows in bed could only do so much to comfort you as the hours rolled on. You shifted every so often to smell Schlatt’s pillows, an evil idea forming in your brain. All morning the ache between your thighs was impossible to ignore and the fact that your lovely handsome boyfriend was just a room away was a tease in itself.
So close yet so far.
Part of you wanted to leave him to his work, you knew he wouldn’t have shut himself in his office if it wasn’t important. But the desire to be filled up and fucked out of your mind far outweighed your polite logic. You slinked out of bed, slipping off your panties and tossing them aside. Clad only in one of his sweaters, you quietly exited the bedroom and walked down the hallway to the office. The door was shut, which meant he was taking his work seriously for once. You didn’t knock, you simply turned the doorknob gently and peeked your head of messy hair inside.
Schlatt was sitting at his desk, casually leaning back in his chair. One arm was resting on the back of his neck, the other moving around the mouse as his eyes stared sharply at his monitor as if it personally wronged him. His eyebrows were knitted together and the little scrunch of his perfect nose told you that he was concentrating hard. About what, you had no idea. But you always found him extra attractive whenever he was this focused on anything. Something about his intensity, how his dark brown eyes narrowed, how you could imagine the cogs in his brain turning. Schlatt was a problem solver, if he could fix it there was no doubt he would see it through until it was done. You loved that quality of him, it quite literally healed you. Over time, it certainly made you a bit of a spoiled princess but Schlatt loved making you feel safe and loved. Ever the softie he was.
The orange rays of light from the sunset peeked through the blinds and cast a heavenly glow on him. He was the picture of comfort, especially with the way he was spread out on his chair as if begging you to sit on his lap and cuddle. But you definitely were not there to cuddle. For as much as your heart clenched with how soft he made you simply by sitting there, he had something you wanted. Schlatt heard the slight creak of the door and lazily turned his gaze to you peeking at him, a tired smirk forming at the sight of his lover.
“Hey sweetheart. You okay?” He greeted you as you took a few steps into the room, closing the door behind yourself. You nodded with a smile and made your way to stand behind him. Schlatt’s smirk widened when he felt your arms snake their way down his chest and your sweater clad tits press against the back of his head. You gave him a lazy hug from behind, burying your cheek into his soft locks.
“Are you really busy?” You mumbled, a hint of a whine climbing up the back of your throat. Your tone was extra sweet and soft, just the way he liked it. But Schlatt knew better, he knew you were up to something.
“Still busy. This stupid fuckin’ thing has been a pain in the ass all day,” he started to explain whatever it was he was working on. You could feel his blood pressure rise with each complaint, smiling to yourself. You leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, which he ignored as he kept complaining. Clearly he was doing his best to not get distracted by your presence and keep his mind on track. His genuine frustration and rising anger almost made you rethink your dastardly plan, but your needs outweighed everything else. You absentmindedly hummed along in agreement to everything he was yapping about as you slowly made your way to his lap, purposefully keeping his sweater pulled down to hide your lack of panties as you sat down. Schlatt was in the middle of another complaint when you cut him off, almost rudely.
“Hey I know you're busy but like… I really really need you,” you purred, slightly rolling your hips against him. Schlatt stopped his ranting immediately, looking down at you in his lap with something akin to shock and offense. You weren't listening or caring at all about his troubles, you were simply there for one thing and one thing only. He almost admired how bold your little stint was, but he was more dead set on teaching you a lesson. He couldn't deny how good it felt when you grinded against him, realizing quickly that you also didn't have any panties on. He steeled himself and kept his condescending gaze on you, a tight frown pulling at the corner of his lips.
“You're annoying,” was all he could grumble the more you melted into him. His hands rested calmly on the armrests of his chair, not daring to give you the satisfaction of touching your soft body like he normally would. He was calm, eerily so. You had expected him to immediately give in to your temptations, eager to take a break from work. You were sorely mistaken.
You whined pathetically, pressing sloppy and warm kisses to his jawline and neck in an attempt to get him to crumble.
“Please babe…” you begged softly, feeling the wet patch that grew underneath you and how it was starting to stain the crotch of his sweatpants. Schlatt rolled his eyes and leaned himself forward to continue his work, ignoring you. The desperate humping wasn't nearly as effective as you thought it would be. The noise that escaped your throat was pitiful as you realized he wasn't taking your bait, your plan was backfiring badly. The languid movements of your hips still felt good, and you could feel how hard he was getting so you continued. Something was better than nothing, so you kept brainlessly humping him.
After a few agonizing minutes of nothing being reciprocated, you sighed dramatically. Schlatt made sure to not move a single muscle while you squirmed on top of him, only moving his hands to type. You threw your head back to look at your boyfriend, and it looked like he was staring through you. It was as if you weren't even there. You pouted, resorting to childish tactics to get him to acknowledge you. A poke on his nose, a pinch of his cheek, tugging his chops, pulling his hair, you even used a finger to lift up his lip to bare his sharp canines. Schlatt was doing his best to not react, but at some point he scoffed and grabbed your wrist, forcing you to stop. He said nothing and grabbed you gently, but it was a clear sign of him being firm. You gasped softly and frowned, almost determined twofold to make him notice you. You huffed and wiggled in his lap before deciding your best course of action was to simply take what you wanted. You were soaked and your core seemed to throb with how desperate you were getting. Insatiable was barely enough to describe how you felt.
You immediately leaned off his lap a bit and toyed with his waistband. Schlatt didn't even spare you a glance. Which basically meant you could get away with what you were planning. You smirked as you pulled his sweats and underwear down, his hard dick slapping against his tummy. Your mouth nearly watered at the sight, but you weren't interested in sucking him off. You aligned yourself back on his lap, swaying your hips to feel his tip tease your entrance. You gave him another look, chewing on your plump bottom lip. Like you were trying to get away with stealing cookies out of the cookie jar from right under his nose. Schlatt made no moves and said nothing, focusing on everything but you. He was confident that he could keep a straight face while you sank onto his dick. Totally.
You smiled impishly as you lowered yourself onto him slowly, enjoying every single inch that filled up your sopping wet hole. Your breathing went ragged and a soft moan tumbled out of your mouth as he bottomed out in you. You could hear his breathing become slightly strained, a few soft huffs from his nose here and there. But Schlatt kept typing away regardless. His jaw was tight and that was enough to encourage you to move. You wanted to see him break. The soft plaps of skin were barely heard as you started a steady pace, bouncing in his lap. You leaned forward and pressed yourself tightly against his chest, head resting in the crook of his neck. You knew your little noises in his ear would drive him crazy. It didn't take more than a minute for you to get lost in the pleasure of it all. Schlatt filled you up so perfectly every time, it was like you both were made for each other. His tip kissed that special spot inside you so well, and your pussy gripped him like a vice. The tall man closed his eyes tightly at the feeling of your warmth around him, fighting tooth and nail to keep his focus on work. He grunted softly when you rolled your hips just the way he liked, oh so close to breaking. You were on cloud nine, desperately fucking him as if nothing else mattered. The warmth of him underneath you and his scent made your brain hazy. Your thighs burned, you were panting, and your pace was getting sloppier and sloppier. It was pitiful in the best way possible. Despite your exhaustion, you kept going in hopes you could reach the ecstasy you desperately needed but to no avail. It was overstimulating and not fulfilling at the same time. Tears began to well up in your eyes as you were overwhelmed with the disappointment that you couldn't keep riding him without some help, your shaky exhale tickling the shell of his ear.
That was all it took to make him snap.
The sound of typing suddenly stopped and you felt his big hands roughly grab your hips. Your eyes snapped open as Schlatt interjected your poor excuse of initiative with a tsk of his tongue, pushing you to sit up and look at him. He kept your hips in place, preventing you from moving. He needed to feel you properly and not just endure your pathetic little bounces that did next to nothing for either of you.
“You're gonna take what I give you, understand?” He growled, his tone low and demanding. It made butterflies flutter in your stomach. But before you could agree or do anything, his hips roughly snapped up into you. The sensation left you breathless, only able to let out a strangled cry of surprise. Your big doe eyes widened in shock, mouth agape as he started thrusting up into you at a cruel pace. It was rough on purpose, showing you without words how he was in charge. You let out a sharp yelp as you clung to his shoulders, hanging on for dear life. It felt like he was quite literally fucking your entire body weight into the air. Schlatt kept his hands firmly on your hips and pulled you down with each of his upward thrusts, smiling to himself upon seeing your reaction and hearing your strangled moans. You were certainly caught off guard and he loved it.
Once you got over the initial surprise of him pounding up into you, you were able to relax a bit. You melted against him, brain nearly going dumb at the delicious feeling of his big dick hitting the yummiest spots over and over. You looked down at his concentrated expression, it was nearly the same as it looked earlier when he was staring at his monitor. All except for his mouth being open to pant and his cheeks being flushed with a lovely shade of pink. You couldn't help it, you ceased your moaning and panting to smirk at him. He was everything you wanted and you were getting exactly what you planned for. Schlatt's brutal thrusts stuttered when he caught a glimpse of your expression. You looked positively sinful, like he had fallen right into your trap despite his previous attempt to stay as still as a statue. Your surprise had worn off, and you looked insatiable. Your eyes half lidded and heavy, mouth curled into a devious smile like a succubus. It was as if his dick wasn't nearly enough for you. You were getting too comfortable.
He simply could not have that.
He growled and ceased his movements, immediately pulling you off. Your smirk was wiped off your face real quick when he easily lifted you off his lap to stand on wobbly legs.
“No, I'm not doin’ that shit…” he mumbled under his breath as he grabbed your neck. Not quite hard enough to choke, but certainly firm enough to nudge you over towards the couch. You barely had time to register what was happening until he pushed you down on the plush surface by the throat. You fell into the cushions, a small frown forming. Before you could ask him what was happening or why he stopped, he lifted your legs up and placed them on his shoulders. Eyes as wide as saucers again, you realized what he was doing. You were definitely in trouble now.
Schlatt's eyebrows were knitted in frustration as he grabbed himself and slapped the tip on your throbbing clit a few times.
“Such a needy slut. Gotta fuck you so you’ll stop botherin’ me…” he trailed off, bucking his hips against you to rub himself in your wetness. You could've cried at how good the heaviness of his dick felt rubbing against your slit, and you were sure he'd love it if you actually did. Without any warning, he pushed himself back inside with a heady groan. You both moaned in tandem when he started to move again, not giving you much of a break as his pace turned feral once more. Your eyes nearly rolled back into your head as you tried to grab at the couch cushions to ground yourself, nails digging into the fabric as the sound of skin on skin filled the office. The neighbors could almost certainly hear you both, but neither of you could be bothered. Your loud moans were an absolute symphony to Schlatt’s ears, he loved knowing how great he felt inside you. He couldn’t get enough of how the raw absence of inhibition sounded, especially when it came from your pretty glossed lips. Your hands travelled to any bit of purchase you could find on him. The back of his neck, grabbing fistfulls of his shirt, and tangling into his soft brown locks. Eventually your hands landed on Schlatt’s forearms that rested by your head. Your nails left angry red marks on his skin, but he relished in it. He didn’t mind that he’d have to wear sweaters if he left the house for a day or two. One of his hands braced most of his body weight next to your head in the couch cushions, the other hand white-knuckled the arm rest above you. You could almost picture how the veins in his hands were popping more than usual.
Something about the way he knew how to hit every perfect spot that sent waves of white hot pleasure to the coil in your tummy made you all the more brainless. Your tits had fallen out from how his sweater rode up with each brutal rock of his hips, a sight he never grew tired of. All you could do was moan and cry as he folded you in half, the position far more intense than you straddling his lap. The tears that rolled off your heated cheeks sparked more than just satisfaction in Schlatt, it was pure, unbridled, and dominating greed. For as greedy as you were for him, he was ten times as much for you. He acted nonchalant about it ninety-nine percent of the time, always so calculated and unbothered on the surface. He always made fun of you for being the needy one, the one who could never get enough, but in reality it was all him. He always “gave in” to you, but it was because there was no way in heaven and earth that he’d deny his gorgeous girl. If it was up to him, you’d never leave the house. Even when he acted like you were a bother, especially while you took him away from important work like this, he was so devoted to you and you knew damn well that he was wrapped around your pretty finger.
His thrusts lost any sort of rhythm when he felt himself nearing the edge, as he could feel how your gummy walls fluttered around him. If heaven existed, the feeling right before you both came together would be the closest comparable thing. Your moans got higher and higher pitched, the absence of pace driving you insane. Schlatt was notorious for talking you through it, his deep tone bringing you to completion many times. But this was true fucking, the kind where either of you couldn't even form coherent words. Just hearing how ragged his breath had gotten and seeing how his hair hung over his damp forehead pushed you closer and closer, the coil tightening more and more. Schlatt quickly brought up his thumb to his lips, licked it, and brought the steady digit to your aching clit. He rubbed a few circles before your back arched off the couch and the coil suddenly snapped. You nearly screeched as your orgasm hit you fast and hard, your vision blurring around the edges before you had to shut your eyes to bear with the intensity. Schlatt continued to fuck you through it, your involuntary spasms milking him the more he rutted into you. He let out a drawn out and low moan, before roughly cumming inside you. You loved the feeling of every spurt hitting your poor, bruised cervix. He gave a few extra hard and shaky thrusts into your heat for good measure, exhaling as if he had run a marathon. The two of you came down from the high together, chests heaving and skin sticky with a sheen layer of sweat. Schlatt regained some composure before you, patting your trembling thigh lovingly as he carefully set your legs down to hook around his hips. He leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to your damp forehead, his mustache tickling your skin.
“Atta girl. I really gotta get back to work though. If you get off this couch to bother me again, I’m fuckin’ you until your legs don’t work.”
His threat wasn’t empty, he meant business.
Yeah, you were definitely going to bother him again.
I'm quite invested in his music career bc I'm genuinely interested in music industry (artists, production, recording, releases, labels, etc), so I very much appreciate it :3
Please, share your thoughts, reactions, favorite moments and media (pics and videos) with our community here! So people who don't live in America/can't afford it/have any other reasons would know how it was <\3
It's a super rare event as Schlatt doesn't do anything publicly. That's why I'm asking you to give us a peek of what he will do in person!
If you don't wanna share it on your blog, you can always drop an ask HERE and I will publish it anonymously. You can do it non-anon as well, I'll be happy to post it :)
Warnings: Southern Gothic setting, suggestive themes, longing, age-appropriate obsession, minor religious guilt, emotionally charged romantic tension, kissing, not entirely innocent thoughts, suggestive content, TWINK SCHLATT!!!
Summary: You’ve always watched him from afar. Jay, the loud-mouthed boy with bruised knuckles and a laugh that makes you feel dizzy. You’re sweet, or at least you were, before he looked at you like that. Now you can’t stop thinking about him. And worse, he’s finally started noticing you back.
A/N: Hope this ruins you in the softest, most Southern gothic Ethel Cain way possible. 😘 fr though I love this song with schlatt and this plot/setting just screams twink schlatt to me okay- like all of the skinny trashy boys I had a crush on in high school who smoked way too much weed
You saw him for the first time the summer you turned nineteen, when the heat came in thick and slow like molasses, and the pavement outside the gas station bubbled under your sneakers. You were elbow-deep in freezer burn, rearranging popsicles behind the counter, when the bell above the door rang and your world tilted just a little.
He walked in like he owned the place, all long limbs and loud voice, laughing at something one of his friends said. God, that laugh. Big and brash, like the kind of boy who didn’t apologize for anything.
He was wearing a cut-off tee with a band you didn’t know and a backwards hat that barely contained the curls at the back of his neck. You watched from behind the freezer glass, pretending to look busy as he strutted past the aisle of honey buns and beef jerky, jaw chewing absentmindedly on a toothpick like it had done something to offend him.
He didn’t look at you. Not then.
But you looked at him.
And you kept looking.
⸻
Jay wasn’t the kind of boy you brought home.
He was the kind you watched from across the parking lot while pretending to count scratch-offs. The kind of boy your mama warned you about when she told you to keep your legs closed and your eyes down.
But you couldn’t help it.
He was loud and messy and wild in a way this place wasn’t. The kind of boy who’d get in a fistfight for fun and then kiss you in the fallout. He wore his meanness like cologne and spat sunflower seeds at your feet without saying sorry.
You didn’t know him. Not really.
But you wanted to.
⸻
You made a habit of knowing when he’d show up.
His truck would growl into the lot just after 7PM, rattling like it had a death wish. You’d hear it before you saw him, bass turned up too high, the windows rolled down even though the AC worked fine.
He always parked sideways like rules didn’t apply, and strolled in with two of his friends trailing behind him like bad ideas. His voice was always the loudest. Sharp, cutting, dipped in something vulgar and funny.
You kept your eyes low. Played it safe.
But you felt it.
The pull.
The ache.
The heat that bloomed somewhere just below your ribs and spread like spilled syrup when he walked too close, smelled like smoke and gasoline.
And you started dressing different.
Just a little.
Gloss on your lips. Baby tee tucked tight. A daisy clipped behind your ear.
All soft, sweet things.
Things you hoped he’d want to ruin.
⸻
One day, he looked at you.
Really looked.
You were leaning on the counter, chin in hand, flipping through a trashy tabloid when the bell jingled and Jay swaggered in alone. No friends this time. Just him and the thick heat and the sound of cicadas screaming outside.
You didn’t glance up fast enough.
But when you did—
He was already looking.
Right at you.
His eyes dragged over you, slow and lazy like he had nowhere to be. His smirk curled, and he walked right up to the counter, chewing on nothing, eyes half-lidded and cruel.
“Don’t think I’ve seen you before,” he said.
You blinked. Swallowed.
“I work nights.”
“Shame,” he muttered, tapping the counter with a ringed finger. “Guess I’ve been missin’ out.”
Your face burned, but your voice stayed steady. “You want anything?”
He grinned. “Yeah. What’s your name?”
You told him.
He said it once, trying it out. “Pretty.”
You should’ve laughed.
Instead, you stared at the way his lip curled around the word, the way he leaned forward like he was gonna say something awful, something filthy, and you would’ve let him. You would’ve listened to every word.
But he just winked.
Grabbed a cherry soda from the fridge and left a crumpled dollar on the counter.
No change.
No goodbye.
You watched him walk out into the heat, long and golden and made of sharp edges.
You didn’t breathe for a whole minute.
⸻
You started writing about him in your journal.
Nothing serious.
Just little things.
Like the way he scratched the back of his neck when he was bored. Or how he always seemed to know when someone was watching him and looked smug about it. You wrote down the songs he played when his truck idled in the lot. You imagined what his voice would sound like in your bedroom, saying things you weren’t supposed to want to hear.
You didn’t love him.
You just wanted to kiss him so hard your teeth ached.
You just wanted to be his, even if only for a night.
⸻
Two weeks later, he showed up again.
This time, he leaned on the counter and said, “You ever been out to the creek?”
You blinked. “What creek?”
“The one past Miller’s farm. Little spot with the rope swing.” He smiled like he knew you wouldn’t say no. “You should come.
You didn’t ask why.
You just nodded, heart jackhammering against your ribs
.
“Tonight,” he said. “Ten sharp. Don’t be late.”
And just like that, you were his.
⸻
You told your mama you were staying at a friend’s.
Put on your shortest skirt. Slicked on lip gloss that tasted like strawberries and sin. Walked barefoot down the gravel path until his headlights found you.
He didn’t say hi.
Just opened the passenger door and looked you over like he’d won something.
You climbed in, silent and sweating.
The cab smelled like sweat and spearmint and a boy who never cared what time it was.
He drove with one hand on the wheel and the other resting just a little too close to your thigh.
The radio played something low and slurred, and he tapped the beat on his knee like he didn’t even notice you were staring at his hands.
You were.
You couldn’t stop.
⸻
The creek was quiet.
Moonlight hit the water in soft ribbons, and the trees whispered secrets to the wind.
He cut the engine and leaned back in his seat, one arm slung lazily behind your headrest.
“You’re quiet,” he said.
You shrugged.
“Nervous?”
“No.”
“Liar.”
You glanced at him.
His eyes glittered in the dark.
He grinned.
“You watch me a lot,” he said.
You froze.
“What?”
“Don’t play dumb. You think I didn’t notice? Thought it was cute.”
You looked away, heat crawling up your neck.
He leaned in.
“Gotta admit,” he murmured, “I been watchin’ you too.”
You turned to him, lips parted, but he was already there—mouth on yours, hands rough on your hips, kiss sweet and sharp like peach candy and bad intentions.
It wasn’t gentle.
But it was good.
Too good.
And when he pulled back, eyes hooded, lips shiny, he whispered, “Been thinkin’ ‘bout this.”
You didn’t say a word.
Just climbed into his lap and kissed him like you were starving.
⸻
You weren’t a good girl.
Not really.
You wore white dresses and said thank you and smiled at old ladies in church.
But under it all, you ached.
For him.
For something real.
And Jay?
He was real in all the worst, best ways.
He bit your bottom lip when you teased him. He pulled your hair when you got too mouthy. He kissed your neck like he was marking territory.
You let him.
You wanted him to.
⸻
You met like that every week.
Sometimes at the creek.
Sometimes behind the old laundromat where the lights flickered and the pavement smelled like bleach and burnt rubber.
He’d press you against brick walls and tell you how pretty you looked when you blushed. He’d call you baby and trouble and sweet thing like it meant something.
And God, it did.
To you, it meant everything.
He wasn’t your boyfriend.
Not really.
But he called you his.
And when he drove you home with one hand gripping your thigh and the other curled around the wheel, you felt like you could die right then and be happy.
⸻
You never told anyone.
Not your friends. Not your mama. Not even yourself, not really.
Because to say it out loud would make it real.
And you weren’t sure you could survive that.
He was your secret.
Your summer sin.
The thing you prayed about in the quiet, trembling on your knees with dirty thoughts and clean hands.
You were the girl who watched him from afar and wanted him anyway.
And now?
Now he wanted you back.
⸻
Some nights, you still lie awake and think about the way his hands felt on your waist, the way he laughed like the world was ending and he didn’t care.
You think about the way he said your name—low, rough, reverent.
Like a prayer.
Like a promise.
Like you were something worth breaking for.
And maybe you were.
Maybe you still are.
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