inspired by a thing i saw about gentle parenting men who touch you unprompted š
{ sfw gn reader x jschlatt, tiny bit of implied smut, pretty much just schlatt being a sucker for his partner and getting turned on by people with boundaries }
it's pretty common for schlatt to have a hand on you most of the time, just a gentle tether connecting you: either a warm palm on the small of your back in a crowded room, or his fingers rubbing the back of your neck possessively, or a hand on your thigh when he's driving you somewhere.
you love it, adore the way the heat of his palms bleeds into your skin, the way his fingertips press firmly into you when you get startled, the way he grips your nape a little more firmly when you talk back to him.
but sometimes you have a desperate need not to be touched, the feeling of skin on skin overwhelming and grating and making you irritated and fussy. schlatt knows your boundaries, usually steps within them, wouldn't ever want to make you uncomfortable.
today, though. it's hot, sweltering even: you're wearing a tank top and shorts, sweat still beading on your forehead in the sticky heat. you've been working in the garden all day, riling yourself up in the heat of the sun just so you can tell him you made a bit of progress.
schlatt knows, though. he's been keeping an eye on you ā at first, just in case you needed help moving paving slabs or carrying supplies. as the sun rose in the sky it lit your skin with gold, the undertones of your hair catching the light. and schlatt's just a man, after all. you've been leaning and bending and squatting and panting and gasping and sweating all afternoon. he can't help that he feels a little handsy.
when you come inside for a glass of water, schlatt greets you with a smile and a soft kiss.
"think you're almost done, toots? it's lookin' great, practically Eden out there," he tells you, slipping his arms around your waist and pressing his big warm palms to your back.
that's all it takes for the frustration to swell inside you, hot and irritated. with barely a second thought, you take both his hands and hold his arms firmly in front of him, pinning him with a steely gaze.
"we don't touch people without asking first, jay."
your voice is firm, bled through with annoyance and condescension. you feel bad about it almost immediately ā he's your partner, he obviously didn't mean to upset you, he's actually being extra sweet and less sarcastic todayā
and then your eyes flick up from his hands to his face, and he's blushing like a tomato. his eyes are wide, face tilted down a little in embarrassment, and he's actually smiling ā not the smug grin he usually wears, a dopey shy little smile that actually makes him look bashful.
"...sorry," he says shyly. he's a little breathless, and he looks more ridiculously turned on than you've ever seen him. "m'sorry. i'll ask next time."
you don't give him a chance. you're dragging him to the bedroom and planting yourself on top of his face before he can say a word (this is the best day of his life)
origamiaround
areudirty
prguitarman
theartofmadeline
andulkaphoto
romaincrisis
titsay
