My schlatt blog

Age 22. A blog about romance, but mostly 99.999% schlatt<3

[yumiis]

ok this is gonna be SO cringe and self indulgent so be prepared

i saw this video and just immediately thought of schlatt :’)) he just seems like when he’s sleepy he’d be all cuddly n just a big baby!!!

ty for filling my little silly scenarios in my brain <33

oh shut up that's so cute.

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ。 BEAUTIFUL BOY ; SCHLATT

　 ﾟ･｡･ﾟ

genre; tooth rotting fluff

type; blurb

read below!

Jay was never one to show his affection towards you in public or during the day around others, but when it was after hours and in the confined space of your home, it was a different story.

It'd been a long day for both you and Jay, so it was always nice to lay down in bed together after those kinds of days. He'd been busy running errands, you'd been busy at your desk job, it was rough for the two of you.

He crawled into bed right next to you, immediately resting his head on your chest. "Hi baby.." You cooed at him. He just groaned in response. "Mmrrm." You softly chuckled, "Uh huh?"

He nodded slowly. You knew he was out of it; he was never really this cuddly. You smiled, speaking to him softly, "You're such a beautiful boy, you know?" He hummed, "My boy.." You rubbed his head, combing your fingers through his hair. "My beautiful, beautiful boy."

He smiled, leaning up slightly to kiss your jawline. "Mhm.." You grinned, looking down towards him. "I love you so much, honey.." He nodded, "Love you too."

[chosendrankbubbles]

Progression

JSchlatt x Reader

Word Count: 323

Warnings: None!  

Description: The fans had been on a need to know basis, something that worked well in yours and Schlatt’s favor. 

Author’s Note: Just a quick little blurb. Schlatt has come in and smacked Smosh out of its 3 year reign as the main hyperfixation, somehow… I debated making another blog for all of my different fandoms, but the idea of being a chaotic multi-fandom page is more fun. Also, coming in and contributing bc it's yet another fandom that is DRYYYY on the fanfic aspect. ENJOYYY!! 

There was a lot left unsaid about the life you and Schlatt shared. From the beginning, when you two had met while you edited for your close friend, Ted. Fans didn’t notice anything when the two of you started streaming together, or collabing on YouTube. A few noticed as you showed up in the backgrounds of vlogs, or walked in during a stream, but never enough to overpower comment sections, at least for very long. 

You two never said anything, just kept living, sharing the love that grew between you with close friends lists. Acting like it wasn’t a thing had most people unfazed by the growing relationship. Things sparked up in the fandom when you had posted a picture from a Streamer Awards, a ring on your finger, and Schlatt standing close by. As always, neither of you ever commented back about the topic. 

The years go by, major life moments between the two of you going unshared to the fans. Until one.

Of course, you never posted the picture of the pregnancy test, or the

sonogram updates. You kept the maternity photoshoot private, along with the birth announcement, and the baby shower. You didn’t even post the first few months of the life that you and Schlatt had created.

Only after 6 months, did you finally make a public post, tagging Schlatt above the baby’s head in the photo you had taken of her on the month by month blanket that Jaden had made and gifted at the baby shower. 

Our beautiful girl is already six months old. 

And on that same day, Schlatt also made a public post, opting for another picture, one taken just days before she had turned six months. It’s a simple picture of you, standing at the sink, bubbles surrounding your daughter in her bath, the cats in the background sniffing at the sink curiously. 

The caption, as simple as ever.

Rich in every single aspect.

Want more? Check out the masterlist

[tmblrmoon]

how would schlatt react to reader being nervous to tell him about a having weird/niche hobby? maybe like collecting american girl dolls or littlest pet shops, or maybe even reborn dolls? it doesn't have to be trauma related or anything like that, just maybe wanting sometimes to slip in a headspace where you want to "play" again like you did when you were a kid.

definitelyyyy don't relate to that at all!

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

Play Date 🐻🐰

cw: sfw age regression!!

a/n: hi anon!! thought this was so cute and thought this would be a great opportunity to write more cg schlatt bc i love :3 as someone that also collects stuff like that and age regresses i tried my best to make a lil fic about it but with calico critters instead bc on my shelf i have a lil set of them and i think about playing with them with schlatt and he would 100% contribute to your collection 🤭 anyways enjoy!! <3

You been with Schlatt for a few months now. Everything was going great. Well except the fact you never let him see your room. You made excuses from just about going back to his place to sleep over to just saying that the couch is comfy for the both of you. You decided tonight you will finally let him in. The worst thing he could do is just joke about it. It being all the toys you collected throughout your years on shelves you dedicated just for them. They bought you comfort and joy you hoped if you showed him that you could get him to understand and see that.

“So you’re finally gonna show me what you got hiding in here, doll?” He chuckled as you led him to your door as your face flushed red. He turned you gently to face him as his hand grasped and caressed your face to try and reassure you.

“Cmon sweetheart it can’t be that bad that you got to keep it from me. Let’s see what you got in there.”

His words finally encouraged you to open the door as the both of you entered.

“Whoa…” Schlatt’s eyes took in all the sights of all the things you collected and cherished. You had it all. Everything from littlest pet shops to my little pony, calico critters, lalaloopsy to even monster high dolls. From his reaction you instantly thought to apologize for it. Thinking that he would be like everyone else and judge you for keeping all these around still.

“Sorry…Is it too much?”

You tried to speak up before he looked back at you like you said the most profound thing ever. “Honey you don’t have to apologize for this. This is quite the collection you got. Is this what you were so scared to show me?” He asked as he picked up one of the calico critters from your shelf. You really took effort into displaying them and even having some play sets for them. You nodded.

“Doll, I always knew you been cute but this is just adorable.” He chuckled as he kept the attention on the cute little animal figure in his hand. Your eyes widened from his reaction. You weren’t expecting this. You were expecting him to question you for spending your time and money on all these toys but he didn’t. He accepted it instantly. Here you thought you couldn’t have any more feelings for him.

“This one is just as cute as you, sweetheart.” He laughed as he brought up a calico critter that was a bunny. You giggled instantly. “This one reminds me of you.” You laughed as you showed him another calico critter that was a bear which his expression softened at as he playfully ruffled your hair. “You’re too sweet, Doll.” He chuckled softly.

“Say do you ever play with these things?” He asked out of nowhere even though he noticed all the little sets you had for them. You weren’t expecting him to ask you this at all but at this point you didn’t have a reason to deny him the truth.

“Sometimes…yeah.” You answered flustered. You had this headspace you slipped into when you could be small and play with toys again. Your room felt like your own bubble just for that. Where you could just forget about everything else and just be small and playful again. You hope that Schlatt would embrace this side of you and he did not disappoint.

“C’mon, Babydoll. Let’s play yeah?” He smiled at you as your eyes lit up with excitement as you got your favorite playset for you calico critters. It reassembled a cute little tree house that came with everything from a swing attached to it alongside with a seesaw and picnic area. You giggled mostly to yourself out of your giddiness as you handed Schlatt the bear calico critter you mentioned to him earlier for him to play as and you picking up the bunny one from earlier as well. “Good choice baby. So what do you think these two should do. I’m all ears” He grinned to encourage you more. “They should go on a picnic together!” You giggled as you moved your critter towards his. “A picnic huh? Guess that will be a great date from them don’t you think, sweetheart?” He chuckled.

You were in your little headspace now as he fully pulled you into it now. “Uh huh, Daddy!” You cheered as he took in how adorable you were thinking why you ever kept this from him. “Good. Let’s get their little date started with.” He smiled at you before making their animals look like they’re holding hands. The moments of playing with him went by as he cherished how precious you were like this and that you were able to show him this part of you that you thought you had to keep aside from him. Now you know you don’t ever have to worry about that and just feel safe and sound with him. As you were doing just now as all the playing finally got to you as you fell asleep softly in his arms. Schlatt laughed quietly not to disturb you from your sweet slumber. “Sleep tight, sweetheart” He sent you off to sleep with a kiss to the crown of your head.

a/n: also sorry this took so long 😭 i been working like a mf and also been hyperfixated and playing the new resident evil i love leon 😵‍💫 but don’t worry i still love schlatt !! im just going through it but trust🤞🏻 excited to get to another request im gonna try and have cookin soon!! also to cope with how crazy things been i got plushie from build a bear but in my head schlatt got it for me 😞 also i have other cg schlatt fics!! i have them tag as that so i will tag that for yall that want more of that till i somehow figure out how to make a master list 😭 but in the meantime use the tags ^-^

[chosendrankbubbles]

Schlatt Proposes (HCs)

Author’s Note: Just a short little headcannons fic about Schlatt and his nerves leading up to proposing to you! ALSO TWO POSTS IN ONE DAY WHOOOAAAAA! Wanna read more? Masterlist

-He would sneak one of your favorite rings, feeling bad but pretending to help you find it, when in reality he had it the entire day, needing it to get a ring size discreetly.

-He would confess to Ted that he was anxious, wanting to make things perfect. Ted would help him plan the proposal, down to the day, the location, and even asking you questions, framed as curiosity, but in reality it was answering questions Schlatt had, but couldn’t ask you himself without spoiling the surprise.

-In reality, you’d catch on fairly quickly to his plans. You’d never tell him though, not wanting to spoil anything for him, especially with how hard he was working to make things perfect. 

-He’d propose in Japan. He’d make a day for just her and him to go around, coordinating the place and time with Trevor so he can make sure to capture the moment on handycam film.

-When it comes time to do it, he starts feeling really anxious, and when you catch on, you encourage him to continue his plan.

-Your encouragement gives him enough confidence to get down on one knee and open the box.

-Well, he tries. His nerves make his fingers just say nope to cooperation, and

He ends up shyly just giving you the box

-As soon as you tell him yes, every bit of anxiety that he had since the day he started planning the proposal washed away. He wasn’t even worried about the next step of planning a wedding and getting married, he was just glad you said yes, everything next could wait, for now.

[chosendrankbubbles]

Got What I Need

JSchlatt x stoner!Reader

Word Count: 1509

Warnings: Marijuana mentioned, drug use, a high explained, reader is a stoner. Mentions of Misfits and Lunch Club members (None that are cancelled, to my knowledge) Lightly edited, so don’t sue me for errors :) 

Description: Established relationship. After smoking too much, your boyfriend, Schlatt, comforts and takes care of you, setting you up for ultimate comfort. Fluff, no use of Y/N

Author’s Note: I feel like Schlatt would absolutely loveee to take care of his stoned partner. Whatever she wants, he’s going to get it for her, no questions asked. Anyway, enjoyyyy!! Wanna see more? Masterlist :)

Cameras surround the group as we all sit around the backyard. Your head swirled, the last bong rip you took still affected your chest, and you knew you bit off more than you could chew. The current smoke circle sat around the patio table, nugs, nectar collectors, dab containers, and papers scattered the table. Ted, Mason, Swagger, Cooper, Schlatt, and you all sit around the table, other members of Misfits and Lunch Club running around the house and backyard, cameramen attempting to catch every moment. In front of where Swagger sits is a straight tube, three chambered bong, the bowl burnt and done. 

“Another, gentleman?” Swagger asks. “And lady.”

Camera crew swirls around us, everyone getting a close up to gauge the reaction of the table. Anything to make the video more interesting. As the cameras continue to swirl around us, a debate starts about a new bowl. Not having the energy to join the conversation, you stay laid back in your patio chair, tuning out the conversation and trying to focus on the music that played on the JBL speaker that someone had brought with them. 

The initial hit of the high fades into a nice buzz, and you tune back into the conversation. Swagger now holds a grinder in his hand, joking with the camera. “What’s the harm in one more bowl?” he jokes, turning the tool in his hand. 

You smile as a camera does a close up. “Oh she’s fucking gone,” Mason says, leaning over the back of your chair to put his head in frame. “Cut her off.” When the fuck did he get up from the table?

Shaking your head, pushing him out of frame. “I’m chillin’, I just want one more rip." you challenge, not realizing the weight of your words. Schlatt’s eyes grow wide, waiting for you to say you weren’t serious. 

“You could not,” Ted says. “You should not.”

Now feeling challenged, you motion towards the bong. “I wanna try, load it.”

The table starts running bits between each other, talking about hypotheticals of what’s to come. Schlatt leans in, taking your hand. His face is serious, and you focus on his eyes as he whispers. “Are you really going to?” His voice is thick with worry. 

Your boyfriend’s reminder is slightly sobering, and you shake your head. “I’m not, I’ll be okay, I’m just going to hit it once and then be done.” You give his hand a confirming and comforting squeeze. 

As you tune back in, Swagger stands, walking over to where you sit, a fresh bowl on the bong. “Go ahead,” He says, handing it to me. You fish around in your pocket, pulling out a black lighter. The silver Playboy bunny print on the lighter catches the camera lighting. “Rip that shit.”

You stare down at the bowl, mouth on the end of the bong, inhaling as you flick the lighter. The flame immediately gets sucked into the green and purple bowl, the orange flame washing through the side of the bowl, blackening it as it moves. The table is almost dead silent, Wiz Khalifa in the background, along with the voices of people not at the table. You inhale as much as you can, pulling the bowl when it becomes too much. A cough teases at your diaphragm as you hold in the smoke. Pulling back, you see the bong isn’t clear, the tube still filled with smoke, despite you inhaling all that you could manage. Quickly, you return the bowl, covering it with your lighter to kill the cherry, and covering the mouthpiece to trap the smoke. A cough ripples through you, waves coming in as if a dam had been opened.

“Fuckkk,” someone exhales. “Come on, clear that bitch.”

Not wanting to leave whatever nasty second hit would be left, you uncover the mouth piece, pulling the bowl again without relighting it, and clearing the bong’s chamber. Immediately, you cough out the smoke, setting the bong on the table in front of you and leaning back. Mason takes the bowl out of your hand, and you continue to cough, covering your face with your hands, desperately wishing that you had a hoodie on.

“She tried,” Ted says. “Better than I could do.” The bong is grabbed, and the table continues the previous conversation, something about the video that’s going to be recorded tonight. 

Knowing it wasn’t something you were going to be a part of, you tune back out, laying back and closing your eyes. Moments pass before you feel a hand on your thigh. “Hmm?” you hum curiously, opening your eyes and looking at Schlatt. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, a small smile. “That was a lot.”

You nod, the movement slightly dizzying. “Yeah, it was a lot, but I’ll be good.” The waves feel good against you. Slowly, you sit up, leaning in to whisper to him, not wanting to talk loudly. He leans in, his breath on your ear sending a chill into the waves. “I’m going to go lay down.”

He nods, no hesitation in his movements as he stands. “I’ll go with you, the secondhand is getting to me,” he jokes. You laugh a little as you stand, waves crashing you as the high still rushes you.  

The table, too concerned with their own attempts to clear bowls in one hit, don’t notice as you and Schlatt leave the table. A cameraman starts to follow, but when Schlatt shakes his head, he falls back, not following the two of you.

Inside the house, the kitchen smells like pizza. “Ohh,” you muse. “Pizzaaa.”

“I’ll bring some to you, let’s get you laying down first,” Schlatt directs, his hand finding the small of your back. “You look like you’re gonna fall if you don’t get down soon.”

It didn’t feel that way, at least that you could tell. As if his words reminded you, the waves get aggressive, and the urge to get into the bed becomes stronger. Guilt overcomes you as the two of you walk into the room. Too high, shit. The bed is an unmade mess, your suitcase sitting on the blankets, slightly spilling out its contents of clothes and makeup. 

“I got it,” You say, nearly stumbling over, seeing the bed making laying down an urgent task. Schlatt shakes his head. 

“Sit.” He points to the chair of the vanity that sits by the door. 

The guilt takes another bite as you sit, feeling like his demand was harsher than it truly was. “I’m sorry,” you tell him as you watch him clear the bed. “I fucked up and now you have to take care of me.”

He sets the suitcase on the floor before moving back over to you. Getting down to your height, he kneels by the vanity stool where you sit. “Why are you sorry?” His eyebrow is raised, his voice soft and gentle. “Don’t be sorry.”

You look into his eyes, quiet. His hand finds your cheek, lightly stroking it with his thumb. He smiles softly, and the anxiety begins to fade as you realize his words are genuine. “You didn’t fuck up anything, you’re having fun with our friends.” He helps you stand, then leads you over to the bed. 

“Besides,” he continues as you lay down, an almost instant wave of relief coming over you. He helps you adjust the pillows under you, putting your blanket from home over you. “I love taking care of you. Don’t ever be sorry because I’m making the choice to take care of my girlfriend so she doesn’t have to do it herself.”

You smile up at him. “Thank you.”

“Of course toots,” his smile widens. “I’ll be right back, find a video for us, yea?” he grabs the TV remote off the nightstand, placing it in your hand. Finding a video becomes your focus, the high calming into nice, manageable waves. As you scroll the YouTube home page, Schlatt wanders into the kitchen. 

He finds your cup first. Dumping out its older contents, he refills it, adding fresh ice and water for you. He carries it along with him as he wanders around the kitchen, grabbing a Gatorade from the fridge, and adding a few slices of pizza onto a paper plate, grabbing a variety. Whatever you didn’t want, he would eat. After shoving a few other snacks from the counter into his hoodie pouch, he walks back to the room. 

“Body cam videos?” You suggest. He hands you your water bottle, setting the plate on the bedside table, and the Gatorade beside you on the bed. 

“Sounds good to me,” he says, emptying the snacks from the kitchen into the middle of the bed, so the two of you could reach them. Before climbing into bed besides you, he kicks his shoes off. “All good? All settled?”

You look at the snacks, the drinks, and then to him. Satisfied, you lean into him, giving him a quick kiss, his facial hair tickling as your lips meet his. “I’ve got everything I need.”

[pandawasbored]

Hi! So sorry if your not taking reqs rn if so just disregard!

But I’ve been plagued by like soft dom schlatt just like random little instances? (I literally just had the word in my head and couldn’t think of it forgive me) He probably doesn’t even realize he’s doing it it’s just kind of second nature at this point.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

I will say I think about this a lot too hehe (this is literally just a bunch of hcs of him being a good boyfriend lol).

Jschlatt x reader, MDNI 18+, sfw + nsfw, afab reader, no use of (Y/n)

Wc : 2,117

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

SFW :

⋆ Soft dom Schlatt who is such a type A personality that he loves lists and routines for himself, so he naturally keeps track of things for you (especially if you're a little forgetful). Always making sure you take your daily vitamins and drinking enough water. It's very common for him to urge a water bottle into your hands like a silent command. He makes sure you do everything in your morning and nightly routine to the letter and steps in to help if you're too tired to do it yourself. He loves to brush your hair after a long day, it's one of his favorite things in the whole world. You're too ashamed to admit that he has brushed your teeth for you a handful of times too. The type of boyfriend who absolutely takes your makeup off for you if you're too sleepy or drunk after a night out. 

⋆ The Schlatt we see on camera who is boisterous and larger than life is the complete opposite in his personal life. He tends to stay relaxed and calm, almost stoic depending on the day. His tone is oh so gentle and loving with you, and he's surprisingly patient.

⋆ He controls the system, not you (if that makes sense). He sets the rules / expectations and then enforces them fairly, leaving you to decide how to act on your own terms (aka if you will or won’t respond to his gentle suggestions). Most of the rules and expectations are for your own benefit too, he’s totally not a secret control freak who just wants the best for the person he loves. He sets the standard and has a gentle authority over you, which eases a lot of your stress. Just be his good girl and all will be well! If not, you know you're in for a looong night in bed (probably tied up and teased until you cry and beg). 

⋆ Never bats an eye when you need a shoe tied or a purse held. To an untrained eye, it would look like he’s fully under your thumb, but it's quite the opposite. He has YOU trained to ask him for anything and everything. Schlatt loves to take care of you and enjoys being useful.

⋆ Will never order you to do anything, he 100% gently coaxes you into doing things for your own benefit and so you think it's your own idea. It’s never in a patronizing way, it’s just him being patient and knowing what’s best. 

⋆ His hand on your lower back to guide you around. He doesn't even think twice about it. It always makes you feel comfortable knowing he has a hand on you, especially in crowds or unfamiliar places. Sometimes he places a gentle hand on the back of your neck to guide you around when no one else is watching, especially if you've pissed him off a little or act bratty on purpose.

⋆ Schlatt is a decisive man and he knows how to get you to make decisions too. There will never be the infamous “where do you want to eat” conversation with him. He's found out the best way to navigate choices with you, which is to give you an array of choices to choose from and let you pick from his suggestions. If you don't even want to do that, he will simply just pick for you. He knows you hate the choice overload and he loves making straightforward decisions to avoid hassle, so it's really a match made in heaven. Is also known for going to multiple food places for you just so you can have a little bit of everything that you're feeling, even if it is a little extra work on his part. 

⋆ Spoils you rotten but never lets you forget who is in charge. He created a bratty and spoiled little monster, but he eats it up every time he gets to really put you in your place. Purposefully lets you get away with things you know you're not supposed to do so his actions and words have more weight to it. Relies heavily on positive reinforcement! 

“That's my girl!” “Great job, baby.” “Thank you for doing that f'me, sweetheart.” “You know better than that.” “Atta girl.”

⋆ For as much as he enjoys intimate romantic moments, he loves the occasional grand gesture. Booking your favorite expensive restaurant months beforehand. Planning trips to Japan. Any designer perfumes or shoes you could ever desire. Schlatt handles it all, the meticulous planning to keep something a surprise, trip itineraries, reservations. He doesn't plan big things constantly (even though he has the means to), he just likes surprising you with nice gifts every once in a while to see the disbelief and excitement in your eyes because he never gets enough of it.

⋆ You never dare to touch a steering wheel when he's around. You are his passenger princess always. You rarely open your own car doors, Schlatt likes to casually stroll around to the passenger side and open it for you. It's a perfect time frame to put on lip gloss or check your reflection in the visor mirror. 

⋆ On that note, he will always open doors for you. Pulls out chairs for you. Always follows the sidewalk rule. He's so much bigger than you and he uses that to keep you safe and shielded in public. Always leading you through crowds so you can walk behind him to ensure no stranger bumps into you. I think he also would be willing to crouch down so you could sit on his back if your feet really needed a break (he'll grumble about it but he could never deny you).

⋆ Will hold you close to him on the subway too, your back pressed to his chest and his free hand on your waist to keep you balanced. If you're really short, you like to hold onto his bicep to keep you steady instead of grabbing the rails. Plus it's an excuse for you to feel him up a little and he loves it. 

⋆ Very much the type to give you the best seats and sit next to strangers so you don't have to (whether it's at the movies, public transport, or wherever else). 

⋆ A little softer and more vulnerable in private. Loves to lay on top of you, his head buried in your chest, his arms wrapped around your waist in a tight hug like you're a soft body pillow. Will melt in your hands like putty if you play with his hair when you're both comfortably laying together. Will also whine or grumble if you stop playing with his hair or stop drawing shapes into his back. It's the closest thing you'll get to him “begging” for you to do anything. He’s a big teddy bear softie at heart, we all know this (Mr. Ted Nivison himself said so).

⋆ A bit more dominant and strict if you’re stubbornly independent, but it’s for your own good! Parentified oldest daughters, he is the man for you. Schlatt catches on pretty quickly once you start dating what the vibe is, he’s perceptive. He makes it his mission to never let you lift a finger or take full control of a situation if he can help it. Very big on preparing things beforehand so you never even get a chance to worry, he loves to plan and is a solution guy anyways. It takes time and lots of unlearning on your part, but he wants to make your life stable and easier (I’m pretty sure he was being genuine when he said on a sleep deprived podcast that the one thing he provides in a relationship is stability, I forgot the episode number BUT I am so mentally ill I remember distinctly he said something like that).

⋆ His patience and gentle nature highkey turns you on… like damn okay you’re really principled like that!!! The more he respects you and treats you well, the more you want to be feral and chew on him like a wild animal. 

NSFW :

⋆ I fully believe this man is a soft dom through and through (I’m sorry sub Schlatt truthers). Maybe he'll let you take what you want from him sometimes, or whenever he's lazy and he'll let you ride him for a while. But overall, he needs to be in charge. Most of the time he's respectful and reverent, big on the fact you both are “making love” and not just fucking (although he thoroughly fucks your brains out every time, he’s generous like that).

⋆ Will be mid rearranging your guts or fucking you stupid to coo sweet things in your ear that make you shiver, his tone low and rough just for you.

“S’good f’me baby.” “Gorgeous…” “So pretty sweetheart.” “Takin’ me so well…”

⋆ Schlatt treats you like glass in the beginning of the relationship. He’s a big guy and genuinely does not want to hurt you. The dichotomy of such a big man being so gentle in his touches and lovemaking is so dang cute to you! Took a while for him to be comfortable being truly dominant in bed, you damn near had to beg him to throw you around. 

⋆ Ties you up. Always makes sure nothing is too tight on your wrists or ankles no matter how fed up he is with you. Loves to tie your arms behind your back so you can’t touch him while he fucks you hard. If he’s in a real crazy mood, he’ll choke you out with his belt during doggy. If you’ve misbehaved enough he likes to tie you to the bed and hold a vibrator to you for as long as he wants, just to edge you until you cry and beg and convince him that you’ll be good. Teases and talks all soft and gentle while you’re sobbing from overstimulation. Wipes your tears and kisses your cheek softly while turning the vibrator to max. 

⋆ Could kiss along your body all day and night. Something about how your heated skin feels in the palms of his hands is so satisfying to him. The soft breaths and moans you let out as he presses gentle kisses to every part of your body while holding you down so you can’t wiggle away is all he would want to do for the rest of his life. Major back and shoulder kisser! He also isn’t afraid to bite you (enough to leave slight teeth indentations) if you’re squirming too much, especially on your inner thighs or ass. His mustache and chops definitely tickle you too, but his insistence at doing it anyway is your favorite part. 

⋆ Such a tease. Baits you into misbehaving just to give himself an excuse to be a bit more dominant. Loves seeing you mad or bratty, it’s like a switch flips in his brain. The moment he can see the “oh shit” look in your pretty eyes when you realize you’re in deep is like heroin to him. Imagine mid disagreement and you see that sleazy smirk he does and you realize you’re fucked. Especially if you try too hard to be good all the time, where’s the fun in that? He likes to shake things up sometimes, and if that means poking and prodding you so he has an excuse to stick his face between your thighs until you’re screaming his name, so be it.

“Sorry for makin’ you mad, baby. Just needed you…”

⋆ Loves to pin you down because he knows you can’t move him physically. Uses your size difference to his advantage whenever he folds you in half to devour you. Unafraid to pin your knees almost up to your ears to really get between your legs and taste you. Pins you down by the neck often, but his grip is never too rough or tight. He doesn’t ever aim to hurt you, just a subtle reminder of who’s in charge. 

⋆ Aftercare king, I said what I said. He loves to relax with you afterwards (and relax all the time actually), whether that’s a nice bath together or just cuddling. I imagine him being a bit lazy and sluggish after bruising your cervix, but he never skips taking care of you. Likes to lay you on top so he can run his fingers through your hair and rub your back, he thinks you act like a cat and it makes him all fuzzy inside. Lots of forehead kisses and praise during and after, gets very gentle and likes to make sure you know you’re cared for and loved. He really is a sweetheart through and through and will never let you forget it even if he’s a bit firm or rough sometimes.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

[darkniters]

Jschlatt who has a pair of handcuffs

Nsfw

Picked the bedframe in his apartment for the specific reason of tying your (or his) arm to the side of the post.

He loves to lock the middle chain around the pole and see your hands scrape and wry together as his hands do all the work. He can't help but stare at your elongated chest as your hands stay lifted above your head, your abdomen stretched and collapsing in on itself as you pant heavily as your completely at his mercy.

His hands trail up and down over your ribs, over your stomach and hips. On down your thighs and all the way up again. The motion itself is mesmerizing as it is infuriating, the lack of direct contact with the aching pain growing in the between your thighs is enough to drive anyone insane.

Soon his head would fall between your legs, and your arms would leap forward, only to be pulled back by the other on the opposite end of the pole. You want to tangle your hands in that man's brown locks, have your hands scrape against the chops, brush your fingers down the back of his neck and urge him to keep going. But all you can do is feel his mouth at work, and all you can hear is him slurping, yourself moaning, and the chains holding your hands next to one another clanking and aching against the bedframe.

Sometimes when he's feeling particularly dubious he will lock just one of your hands to the bedframe, and get you to stand up. You're attached to the bed, but a short distance can be made from the bed, he loves hanging your body over the bed, one arm suspended as the other holds yourself up as he cranes his arm through your midsection.

As he would rut inside of you, you'd fall forward, but you can never really fall, can you? Especially when your arm is linked so high up on the bed frame. Your a sweating, moaning mess, who can't help but move your hips back into the man you loves pelvis, but your face is turned to the side your arm stays suspended.

Schlatt loves when it's your turn to put him into a position of submission. You make his hands stay behind his back, wrap them around the middle pillar in the bed frame. As you slot yourself down on the throne infront of him, all he can do is stare as you bounce and kiss down his neck and body. When your hands touch him it feels like fire piercing under his skin, and his hands do nothing but twitch and pull at the restraints holding him back from destroying your pretty body.

You always seem to keep the perfect distance, where his lips can't swoop in for a chaste kiss to any part of your body, you make sure he feels as helpless as he makes you feel, but also consider the fact that this is the love of your life, and if he didn't want any of this he would've said so long ago.

[dwellstar]

re-do

summary: schlatt has been putting up a front with you and you're so fed up with it

tw: angst, fluff, kissing, arguing, swearing, established relationship

from lila: was listening to modern baseball and pictured this whole scenario...also my first non-smut fic lmao

--

you're stomping through the halls of his home, searching for the pieces of you that you've left.

"please, baby, don't do this to me," schlatt whines behind you.

"don't do this to you? are you fucking kidding me? you're the one who's been putting up this...this facade for the past three months," you retort, "who would i be doing it to anyway, huh? not like i even know you anymore..."

"i told you that i'm sorry, alright? i was just trying to impress you, is all," he says.

you roll your eyes as you enter the office, grabbing your electronics and shoving them into your bag.

this fight began when you asked schlatt what he wanted to do for dinner. your stance was to stay in and cook, or pick up something cheap.

he wanted to get another elaborate and expensive meal.

like you've been having for the entire seven months you've been seeing him.

this argument over dinner turned into arguing about your relationship. you felt that you had been pouring yourself into this while he was holding himself back.

you told him things only the pages of your diaries have known while he only told you surface level things.

you begged him to give you more of him, but he refused.

all the while spending insane amounts of money on you (which you were extremely grateful for) but not giving you what you really wanted.

connection.

you felt like an expensive prostitute. wined, dined, and fucked by 9:30, yearning for something with more depth.

so you said, "tell me something real about you."

he thought.

"my net worth is about two million."

you began gathering your things immediately.

"you're such a dick, i can't believe i've been wasting my time with you," you muttered, shouldering past him to get into the bedroom.

"is that something real?" he says as you start toward the door.

you stop and turn back to face him.

"what do you think? all i've ever been with you is real and you've never even told me..." you stop to think about what to fill in the blank with.

schlatt scoffs, "what? my biggest fear? my hopes and fuckin' dreams? you can't be serious about wantin' to hear that."

"i am serious!" you throw your hands up in frustration, "i am so serious about wanting to get to know you. i'm serious about wanting to see who you really are, but you won't let me."

schlatt's hands sit on his hips and he looks down to the ground, shaking his head and muttering under his breath.

you take a beat to try and understand what he's saying.

you eventually lose patience and turn back to leave the room again.

"wait!" schlatt shouts.

you come back in and see his face, usually stern and solemn, now red with emotion. tears brimming in his eyes and trailing down his cheeks, disappearing into his facial hair.

"i'm afraid, that if you see something real about me, you won't like me anymore," he confesses, voice breaking.

he takes a few steps backward until the back of his knees thudded against the bed frame, sitting down and burying his head in his hands.

you heard small broken sobs escape past his fingers.

"i do all the fancy shit so you'll see what i want you to see," he says.

you drop your bag and come to sit next to him on the edge of the bed.

"what do you want me to see?" you ask.

"someone who's confident, put-together...rich,"

"and what do you not want me to see?"

"someone who's insecure, messy, scared...still rich,"

you both chuckle.

you drag a hand up his back, rubbing lazy circles to comfort him.

"schlatt, i was about to walk out of here because what i was seeing was a cocky, self-centered asshole. that's not what i want. but this...this is what i want. someone who's willing to be vulnerable with me," you say, "this is the realest you've been with me...ever."

he raises his face from his palms to look into your eyes.

"all i want is for you to like me," he says.

"you know what i like...you know you can give it to me. so why don't we just...start over?" you ask.

he smiles and nods, raising his hand to cradle the back of your neck and brings you into a kiss.

with this kiss, you feel the changes.

he can be better for me.

he will be better for me.

he pulls away, pressing his forehead against yours.

"tell me something real," he says.

"i'm the happiest i've ever been when i'm with you."

[tmblrmoon]

Table for Two 🤍🍽️

MDNI !!

a/n: another sweet request messaged in from a beautiful anon for a plus sized reader who is insecure and schlatt is too so they comfort each other <3 i thought that was so sweet and tried my best with it and added smut too 🤭 but anyways enjoy! and reminder that you are beautiful and loved! 💖

Tonight was supposed to be another great night of Schlatt spoiling you and taking you out to eat at some fancy restaurant he’s been mentioning to you the past month. That seemed to change once you were done getting ready and dressed up. You seemed like the mirror was taunting you. You didn’t like how you looked. A frown painted on your lips. You always tried to fight back that you looked ok but still you had that nauseating thought that your body and appearance wasn’t good enough.

And that maybe you weren’t good enough for Schlatt.

That thought instantly crumbled as you tried to shake your head to erase that fear. Without noticing the door opening behind you, Schlatt appeared.

“You almost ready to go, honey?-“

Then he saw your beautiful face as your eyes started to weep out of tears.

“Whoa sweetheart what’s going on? Are you ok?” He immediately rushed over to your side as his big hands immediately caressing your shoulder.

“What’s got you upset, baby?” His voice softened to soothe like he always does for you when you need it. His hands now caressing your sides as you looked away from the mirror to him.

“D-Do I look like I’m good enough for you, Schlatt?” You asked stumbling over your own words almost terrified from even trying to ask him that.

“Honey is that really what’s gotten you so upset? You’re perfect look at yourself now.” As he moved his one hand to turn your face back to the mirror. “Take a look at yourself. You’re stunning, sweetheart” Your face slightly red as a single tear shed from your face. Schlatt immediately went to brush it off. “Don’t ever question what you look like, honey. I love you way more than what this mirror has to show. I know you’re beautiful.” He pressed a kiss to the side of your head as you turned to embrace him. It’s like he could make you forget about whatever makes you upset in an instant. “Inside and out.” He whispered to you as he held you close.

“Ya know, Sweetheart?” You looked up at him as he continued to speak to you. Something about his voice seemed sincere. “I struggled with the same thoughts. Still do.” Your eyes widened as he admitted that to you.

“You do?” You immediately asked him. Thinking why would he? You know he’s perfect no matter what but knowing he has the same insecurities and struggles comforts you a bit that you’re not alone and that you never will be. He nods as fixes your hair that got slightly messy from earlier.

“But then I look at you and all those thoughts go away” His voice slowly healing you from the thoughts you had alone. “Whenever you’re remotely thinking about those things, Come to me. You’re not alone and I will always remind you how beautiful you really are, Sweetheart. No doubt about it.” You took his words to heart as he gazed down at you. He always knew how to make you seem like you were the only person in the world to him. You showed him a soft smile to let him know you’re ok. He chuckles at that. “What?” You slightly tilted your head as to why he laughed. “Looks like we’re missing our time for that reservation.” He shook his head acting like it didn’t really matter. “No, I’m sorry, Schlatt-“ He cut you off from finishing. “Nah. Save it toots. I can get us a fancy dinner anytime. Right now I wanna spend time on something else.”

With that he had his hands full with worshipping you in your guys’ shared room. His big hands caressed your curves as he immediately picked you up and pinned you down to the bed below. Schlatt’s hands all over you still as his lips found yours in a deep passionate kiss. You instantly felt your hips moving against his as if it’s an instinct. Schlatt helping you out of your dress in between kisses as much as he loved how much it showed off your body he wanted you out of it. His lips trailing off from your neck as you got him out of his shirt to try and get somehow even with him. You loved his body if not more than he loved yours and you were gonna try to prove it. Before you could do that he was back on you nipping kisses every where he could as he whispered how much he loved you and your body trying to cherish you in between. Schlatt ended up attaching himself back to your neck as all you could do was whimper underneath him. Schlatt’s hot breath was now against your ear as he whispered to you once more.

“How much do you want me, beautiful?”

Your eyes meeting his again as he tilted your head to look at him with you melting more in hands even more. “I need you.” You let out with a whimper “I need you so bad, Schlatt. Please.” You instantly begged him without realizing you did as if it was second nature to you.

You started to cry out in pleasure as you grind against him again this time feeling how hard he was evidently. You tried to hide how desperate you sounded by burying your face in his neck feeling your own breath. This only lasted a second before Schlatt grabbed you moving you to a straddling position in his lap. This courages you to continue to grind yourself against Schlatt’s hard cock. As your movements persisted you were reduced to letting out strings of moans for him. His hands were placed now on your hips pressing you down to help get more of a better feel of him as you let out a loud whine.

“Wanna ride me, Sweetheart?”

Schlatt smirked as he asked you instantly knowing your answer. Before you could you nodded with a whine. “Yes please, Jay.” As you immediately made contact with his cock. Your small hand engulfing him as he chuckled lightly. “You wanna make me feel good first huh?” He smugly asked trying to hold back a whine himself biting his lip. You could only nod once again gripping his cock more eagerly this time. As you tried to keep your pace up his one hand that was not on your hip moved to touch and prep you. Moving your panties to the side as Schlatt felt how pent up you were for him already. You kept jerking him off the best you could gasping as he pulled you into make out again but this time being more intense.

“You doing so good, babydoll.” He praises you naturally as you two are now inches apart. This causes you to let out a small moan as you felt ready enough to take his cock inside. Schlatt helped you try to position yourself as his hands on your hips lowered you. As you adjusted to him you already felt so full before you could even begin to move. You melted back into his hands to help yourself start to move. Moments passed by you were now bouncing on his cock with ease as you were reduced down to small cries and whines of his name and the occasional “Please, Jay!” As you two reached near your shared peaks with Schlatt’s movements starting to sloppily increase he turned to whisper one more time against your heated skin. “That’s it, honey. Just let go” His breath almost ending in a growl as one of his hands gripping your ass enough to leave marks. You erupt in cries hitting your release as he kept hitting your sweet spot. Your eyes flutter shut as Schlatt was slamming into you till you were sobbing into him with pleasure. You tightened up against him as you felt him bust within you. You could only fall against him with small gasps and whimpers. Schlatt tried to gently hush you down with a grin before kissing the crown of your head lovingly. “That’s my girl.” He cooed to you as you could now only melt against his touch and rest. You didn’t need no fancy dinner when you had him to keep reminding you how beautiful and how much of a meal you are and how filling he was. He would always keep reminding you.

a/n: finally delivered with some fluff and smut for yall 🤭 i find it so difficult lately to write smut but thankfully i digged through my old fics from old fandoms and edited it and made it its own thing!! anyways i have one more request to get to but always open to more so pls request if you want !! :3

[tmblrmoon]

the otk school test vid with schlatt but he’s js flirting with reader the whole time 🙈🙈🙈

Class Flirt 📝💨

(a/n: i loved this request sm anon 🤭 i was able to get my brain working to make a small blurb about it so enjoy :3 !! im forever mourning headband schlatt come back to us 😞)

You’re sat next to schlatt for this so called ‘test’. You really didn’t have any clue why you were even here. You had a sheet of paper front of you as it met your blank gaze. That was until you were interrupted with a nudge of Schlatt’s foot against yours.

“Hey toots”

His voice lowered to talk to you even though you weren’t sure why but you turned your attention to him. Surely he could be more amusing than this test.

“What?” You questioned him immediately. He just ended up giving you a smug grin before a vape appeared in his hand.

“Wanna hit?”

Before you could even think of an answer he started reaching out towards you with it. You instantly laughed shaking your head and taking the vape from him.

“You’re a bad influence.” You teased him as you took a puff from it just to please him.

“Maybe I am, doll.” He smirked taking the vape back not before taking a hit from it. “For you.”

Catching that he was flirting with you now as you kept up the banter of taking turns with his vape. The air practically in smoke now as you guys playfully blew hits in each other’s faces. Laughing amongst each other as the both of you got shushed and caught being loud together but who gave a fuck as Schlatt’s leg met with his under the desks basically playing footsies with him.

At the end of the test that you ended up completely forgetting about thanks to Schlatt. Even though you weren’t even complaining or aware of anything other than him as you returned his vape back to him. Your fingers grasping over his for a few moments before he grabbed the vape from you.

“So toots you’re up for doing something after this shit?” He asked with a chuckle waiting for you to answer.

“You know what, Schlatt? Hell yeah why not.” You laughed back at him as his grin matched yours. “What are we gonna do though?” You asked curious about this. His smirk still plastered on his face now more than ever.

“How about we go shotgun this in my car?”

You didn’t even have to say yes at this point as you instinctively followed him out. Who knew he would be the class flirt.

[tmblrmoon]

neeeeeeeeeeed soft moments with jay 💞 maybe a cuddle moment, winding down for the night and he’s holding you! i need him to comfort me so bad i’m on my period i feel so YUCKY!

Schlatt Comforting You on Your Period Headcanons ❤️‍🩹

(a/n: i feel you 100% anon 😞 i also just went through it and all i could think about is how schlatt would comfort me so here are a few hcs for you 💓 hope you feel better!! 🫶🏻)

it starts with schlatt realizing it’s that time for you as you keel over in pain from the cramps where he’s immediately running over towards you to make sure you’re ok

his hands treating you as gentle as possible during this time anything to spoiling you with rubs or massages or the simple rubbing of hands soothing circles near your hips and every now and then pressing kisses against the side of your head when you’re cuddled up with him

who needs a heating pad when this man is your personal heater his hand against your lower stomach at almost all times mostly just to let you know he’s here with you plus the bonus of jambo who is constantly near or on your lap

he knows you can be more emotional during this time as he loves to lovingly poke at you for it he will of course try to tone it down and reassure you that everything will be ok even if it’s just a sad scene of a movie/show you’re rewatching with him as he takes care of you

he will of course get you anything you need from any candy/chocolate you crave any hygiene stuff you may need to even a plushie to add to your collection that he helped contribute to

feel like he would def remind you how beautiful you are and praise you knowing that even though you don’t feel like you are at the moment he will do it for you holding you close and letting you know how much you mean to him

when you tell him you feel gross he will instantly go the extra mile being him giving you the bubble bath of your dreams carrying you in and lighting either your favorite candle or incense he keeps around for times when you need it

depending on how you’re feeling he will either give you the room to relax in your own bubble he supplied for you or stay

this man will definitely give you everything you need physically too knowing it will help you feel good you think this man cares about the slightest bit of blood? nah he’s worshipping you completely 🤭

(extra a/n: thank you everyone for requesting i asked and yall delivered!! :3 im still taking more if anyone has some i have two other requests to get too and excited just trying to get my brain turning but im working on them asap rocky!! ^-^)

[tmblrmoon]

neeeeeeeeeeed soft moments with jay 💞 maybe a cuddle moment, winding down for the night and he’s holding you! i need him to comfort me so bad i’m on my period i feel so YUCKY!

Schlatt Comforting You on Your Period Headcanons ❤️‍🩹

(a/n: i feel you 100% anon 😞 i also just went through it and all i could think about is how schlatt would comfort me so here are a few hcs for you 💓 hope you feel better!! 🫶🏻)

it starts with schlatt realizing it’s that time for you as you keel over in pain from the cramps where he’s immediately running over towards you to make sure you’re ok

his hands treating you as gentle as possible during this time anything to spoiling you with rubs or massages or the simple rubbing of hands soothing circles near your hips and every now and then pressing kisses against the side of your head when you’re cuddled up with him

who needs a heating pad when this man is your personal heater his hand against your lower stomach at almost all times mostly just to let you know he’s here with you plus the bonus of jambo who is constantly near or on your lap

he knows you can be more emotional during this time as he loves to lovingly poke at you for it he will of course try to tone it down and reassure you that everything will be ok even if it’s just a sad scene of a movie/show you’re rewatching with him as he takes care of you

he will of course get you anything you need from any candy/chocolate you crave any hygiene stuff you may need to even a plushie to add to your collection that he helped contribute to

feel like he would def remind you how beautiful you are and praise you knowing that even though you don’t feel like you are at the moment he will do it for you holding you close and letting you know how much you mean to him

when you tell him you feel gross he will instantly go the extra mile being him giving you the bubble bath of your dreams carrying you in and lighting either your favorite candle or incense he keeps around for times when you need it

depending on how you’re feeling he will either give you the room to relax in your own bubble he supplied for you or stay

this man will definitely give you everything you need physically too knowing it will help you feel good you think this man cares about the slightest bit of blood? nah he’s worshipping you completely 🤭

(extra a/n: thank you everyone for requesting i asked and yall delivered!! :3 im still taking more if anyone has some i have two other requests to get too and excited just trying to get my brain turning but im working on them asap rocky!! ^-^)

[a-silver-glimmer]

omg absolutely obsessed with the way you wrote soft schlatt i need moreeeee omg im tweaking

soft!schlatt x reader pt.2

a/n: aww tysm anon!! glad to see so many people agree with me on this topic LOL. but here's pt.2 hope you enjoy :P and my requests are still open!

sfw, schlatt x gender neutral reader, relationship established

warnings: nothing lol!

word count: 305

⊹₊˚‧(˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)‧˚₊⊹

❀ he would so sing in front of you! but it would be very shy and slightly quiet. like you two would be driving home from a long day of going out and his favorite song comes up in his liked and he sings and hums with a bashful smile. especially if it's a love song.

❀ on the topic of being in a car with him, he would always be the one driving around. it's not that you're not capable of driving, he just prefers having you sit and be relaxed while he does all the work.

❀ would SO have his hand on your thigh while he drives. if not, he would hold your hand and with his thumb he would rub small circles into it.

❀ he seems to be more of a traditional guy for sure. flowers every two weeks to replace the old, wilting ones. hold the door for you and have a hand on your back when you two are walking.

❀ he loves taking photos and making home videos of you with his cameras! he loves the nostalgic feels it gives them when he looks back at the footage.

❀ he also wouldn't want to ever post you on the internet to his fanbase. it's not that he wants to keep you a secret but its to protect you from all the malicious people he sees/reads.

❀ the most people would get is hearing your voice from videos/streams or like a hand of yours in photos lol

❀ i think he would refrain from cursing in front of you. like when he's with his friends/being his persona, he obviously curses...a lot. but when it's you i think he calms down with his cursing. he doesn't want to scare you off since he thinks you're the greatest thing to ever happen to him.

[a-silver-glimmer]

soft!schlatt x reader hcs

im such a firm believer of schlatt being so sweet to you and i just had to write something about him!

sfw, schlatt x gender neutral reader, relationship established

warnings: slight mention of guns and alcohol

word count: 274

⊹₊˚‧(˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)‧˚₊⊹

❀ on camera, he's seen as this big grumpy guy and always yells and is into guns and alcohol but off camera is the sweetest guy EVER

❀ he would so coddle you to death oh my gosh. just say the word and he would drop everything just to make sure you didn't have to lift a single finger.

❀ spoiling you is a no brainer. he would absolutely take you out on dates, buy you everything you laid your eyes on, literally do anything for you.

❀ in his vlogs, he would ask you to hold his camera sometimes to record him and whenever you speak to him, all you can see in the footage is schlatt having the biggest lovey dovey eyes he only has for you.

❀ people would so catch on too and start asking about it on his streams...

- "chat i was NOT making doe eyes, i just had something in my eye and i had to keep them wide for a second..."

❀ no one believes him when he says that lol

❀ i think laying in bed with him though would be the best. he would sprawl out and take over the whole bed until you decide to meet him in your bedroom.

❀ he would shift and lay on his side in one side of the bed and lay an arm out into the other for you to lay down on. he looks at you and you look back him.

❀ he stares at you with the same eyes he has that only you know of. he smiles wide and kisses you on the cheek. he is smitten with you and he's content with that.

a/n: first time writting for schlatt so lmk if i should keep writting for him lmao! was so much fun though i was giggling to myself ugh i love this man...... anyways my requests are also open so please don't be afraid to ask for stuff!!! :p

[slattlicker]

╭─────────────────────────────────────────╮ the foreman's promise chapter three — come morning ╰─────────────────────────────────────────╯

wordcount: ~9K previous chapter? | final part </3 | back to the masterlist?

content warnings:

emotional tension / heavy yearning

jealousy-adjacent conflict

intimacy + explicit sexual content (MDNI !!)

possessive dialogue

restraint / bondage

light dominance / praise + commands

a/n: thank you guys for being patient with me for this last chapter!! i am very proud of it, so i hope that you guys have fun ;)

enjoy! (///￣ ￣///)

✧✧✧

Charleston smells weird. Mm, no, not even just weird — wrong.

You notice it the moment you step off the train - the salt air, yes, but also something else. Perfume and coal smoke and the particular smell of city, all those people pressed together. It's familiar, should be comforting, but instead it makes your throat tight.

Your mother is already chattering about all the places you need to visit, the people you need to call on. Your trunks are loaded into a carriage - a proper carriage with cushioned seats and a driver in livery, so different from the ranch wagon with its hard bench and dust.

The house, when you arrive, looks smaller than you remember. Or maybe you've just gotten used to the endless sky, the way space feels different when there's nothing to contain it. Here everything is pressed close - buildings and people and carefully manicured gardens that look almost artificial after weeks of prairie grass.

"Doesn't it feel wonderful to be home?" your mother asks as you climb the steps to the front door.

You make a noncommittal sound. Home. Is this home? It doesn't feel like it anymore.

Inside, everything is exactly as you left it. The wallpaper you picked out yourself, the piano in the parlor, your bedroom with its canopy bed and vanity and all your beautiful dresses hanging in the wardrobe. Nothing has changed.

Except you have.

You catch sight of yourself in the mirror as you're unpacking. Your face is darker than it was - sun-kissed despite the hat you wear, a dusting of dark freckles across your nose that your mother will undoubtedly have opinions about. And your hands...

You turn them over, studying the palms. The calluses are still there, rough patches that catch on the silk of your dress. There's a healing blister on your thumb, a thin scar across your palm. Working hands. Wrong hands for this place.

That night at dinner, your mother outlines the social calendar. Teas and calls and a ball at the Hawthornes' next week. Your friend Elizabeth has been asking after you constantly. The Morrison boy - James, wasn't it? - has ended his engagement and has been making inquiries about your return.

"Such a good family," your mother says meaningfully. "And he's quite handsome. This could be an excellent match for you, dear."

You push food around your plate and make the appropriate noises. Your father, thank God, is still at the ranch. He'll return in two weeks. Two weeks and then you'll have to go back.

The thought should depress you. Instead, it's the only thing keeping you tethered.

✧✧✧

The first week passes in a blur of social obligations.

You sit in drawing rooms with your legs crossed at the ankle, your back straight, your hands folded in your lap. You wear gloves - soft kid leather that hides your calluses. You sip tea from delicate china cups and make polite conversation about the weather, about fashion, about nothing at all.

Elizabeth comes to call on the third day, sweeping in with all her usual energy.

"Oh my darling, I've missed you terribly!" She embraces you, then holds you at arm's length. "But look at you! You've gotten so... tan. And are those freckles?"

"The sun is rather intense in Texas," you say mildly.

"Well, we'll have to do something about that. Mother swears by a lemon and cream mixture." She settles on the sofa, arranging her skirts. "Now, tell me everything. Is it terribly rustic? Do they have actual savages? Are there gunfights in the streets?"

You think about the ranch - the careful work of managing livestock, the skill required to gentle a horse, the intricate knowledge of land and weather and animal behavior. You think about J's hands, competent and sure, never wasting a movement.

"It's different," you say finally. "But not savage."

Elizabeth looks disappointed. "Well, never mind that. You're back now! And just in time - James Morrison has been asking after you constantly. I think he's quite taken. He'll be at the Hawthornes' ball, of course."

"Of course."

"You'll let him court you properly, won't you? He's such a good match. Father says the Morrison family is one of the best in the city."

One of the best. Meaning wealthy, meaning good connections, meaning all the things that are supposed to matter.

"We'll see," you say noncommittally.

That night, alone in your room, you take off your gloves and stare at your hands again. You can still feel phantom memories - the rough hemp of a rope, the smooth leather of a bridle, the coarse hair of a horse's mane. And underneath it all, sharper and more persistent, the memory of standing in your chemise while J's voice washed over you, telling you exactly what he wanted to do.

You press your thighs together and try not to think about it.

✧✧✧

A letter arrives from your father at the end of the first week.

You tear it open with unladylike eagerness, scanning the contents. Updates about the ranch - fence repairs completed, several successful sales to local buyers, plans to purchase additional breeding stock. All business, all practical.

J's name appears once, in passing: The foreman continues to manage operations efficiently.

That's it? Yes, that's all.

You read the letter three more times, looking for something more. Some hint, some mention. But there's nothing.

Of course there's nothing. What did you expect? J asks after you? J seems melancholy since your departure? Your father barely knows there was anything between you at all. To him, J is just the foreman. Competent, reliable, unremarkable.

You fold the letter carefully and tuck it in your desk drawer.

That night, you dream about storms.

✧✧✧

The Hawthornes' ball is exactly the kind of event you used to love.

The ballroom is magnificent - crystal chandeliers, polished floors, hothouse flowers in elaborate arrangements. The women are dressed in silks and satins, jewels glinting at their throats. The men are in their finest evening wear. There's champagne and a full orchestra and everything is beautiful and elegant and utterly suffocating.

Your mother had your lady's maid lace your corset tight enough that you can barely breathe. Your dress is rose silk with layers of tulle and lace, the bodice fitted perfectly, the skirt full and rustling with every step. Your hair is arranged in an elaborate updo, pinned and curled and decorated with small white flowers. Your gloves go all the way to your elbows.

You look like a porcelain doll. Perfect and pretty and breakable.

James Morrison finds you within twenty minutes.

He's handsome, you suppose - tall and fair with blue eyes and features that are generally considered pleasing. He's well-educated, well-spoken, from an excellent family. Everything a sensible woman should want.

"Miss—" he starts, then catches himself. "May I have this dance?"

You let him lead you onto the floor. He's a good dancer, you'll give him that. Smooth and confident, guiding you through the waltz with practiced ease.

"I'm so glad you've returned," he says as you move together. "The season felt incomplete without you."

"You're too kind."

"Not at all. I've been hoping for an opportunity to call on you properly. With your permission, of course."

He's asking to court you. You should be flattered. Should feel something.

Instead you feel numb.

"That would be... lovely," you hear yourself say.

He smiles, clearly pleased. He's still talking - about his family's business interests, about his travels, about his plans for the future. You make the appropriate responses, but you're not really listening.

You're thinking about rougher hands and dark eyes and a stray raindrop slipping past mutton chops, down a thick neck, past a damp collar—

"Are you quite alright?" James asks, and you realize you've missed something he said.

"Yes, sorry. Just a bit warm."

"Shall we step out for some air?"

You nod, and he guides you toward the terrace. Other couples are out here too, taking advantage of the cool evening. Everything is proper, chaperoned, appropriate.

All you can think is that this man has never worked a day in his life. Has never felt the satisfaction of completing a hard task, never earned the bone-deep tiredness that comes from real labor. His hands are soft. Clean. They've never mended a fence or gentled a horse or—

"I hope I'm not being too forward," James is saying, "but I find myself quite taken with you. I know we've only known each other socially, but I would very much like the opportunity to court you properly. With your father's permission, of course, but I wanted to ask you first. Would you be amenable to such an arrangement?"

He's asking you to let him court you. To begin the formal process that would lead to engagement, to marriage, to the rest of your life.

With him. In Charleston. At parties and balls and social obligations. Living in a beautiful house with servants and fine things and absolutely nothing that matters.

"I—" you start, but you don't know how to finish.

Because the truth is sitting there, clear and unavoidable: you don't want this. Any of this. Not James with his soft hands and easy life. Not Charleston with its careful manners and suffocating propriety. Not this future that everyone expects for you.

You want dust and sweat and early mornings. You want aching muscles and rough hands and work that means something. You want sky so big it makes you dizzy and land that stretches on forever.

You want J.

The realization hits you with the force of a physical blow. Not just want in the abstract, not just attraction or desire or whatever you'd been telling yourself it was. You want him specifically - his dry humor and rare smiles and the way he looks at you like you're capable of more than you think.

You want the life you've been building there, piece by piece, early morning by early morning.

And you're standing here in a silk dress letting a man you barely know ask to court you.

"I'm sorry," you say abruptly. "I can't—I need to—excuse me."

You pull away from James and hurry back inside, ignoring his confused protests. You push through the crowd, not caring who you bump into, making a beeline for the entrance.

"Darling?" Your mother intercepts you in the hallway. "Where are you going? The evening has barely begun!"

"I need to go home."

"Don't be ridiculous. James Morrison brought you to the terrace! This is exactly what we—"

"I don't want to be with James Morrison." The words come out sharper than you intend. "I don't want to be courted by him or anyone else here. I don't want any of this."

Your mother's eyes widen. "What are you talking about? You're just overwhelmed, that's all. Come, sit down for a moment—"

"I'm not overwhelmed. I'm clear-headed for the first time in weeks." You can feel people staring, but you don't care. "I'm going back to Texas. Not in a month. Now."

"That's absurd! Your father isn't even back yet!"

"Then I'll go without him." You're already moving toward the door. "I'll hire someone to take me to the station. I'll go tomorrow if I can get a ticket."

"This is about that ranch, isn't it? That awful, dusty place—"

"That awful, dusty place is where I want to be, mother!" You stop and turn to face her. "I know you don't understand. I know you think I've lost my mind. But I can't stay here pretending to be someone I'm not anymore. I can't marry some man I don't love and live in a house that feels like a cage just because it's what's expected."

Your mother's face has gone pale. "If this is about some... some ranch hand—"

The word stings, even though she doesn't know how accurate she is. "This is about me," you say firmly. "About what I want. For once in my life, I'm going to choose what I want."

You don't wait for her response. You gather your skirts and walk out into the night, leaving behind the ballroom and the champagne and James Morrison and the entire life you're supposed to want.

✧✧✧

It takes three days to arrange everything.

Three days of your mother's tight-lipped disapproval, of hasty packing, of booking train tickets and hiring a companion for propriety's sake since your father isn't back yet to travel with you. Three days of Elizabeth coming to call and trying to talk sense into you, of well-meaning friends suggesting you're having some kind of nervous episode.

You let them talk. You don't try to explain. How could you make them understand?

The night before you leave, you sit at your desk and try to write a letter to J. You start a dozen times, crumpling each attempt.

Dear J, I'm coming back—

Too formal.

J, I couldn't stay away—

Too desperate.

I need to tell you—

Tell him what? That you can't stop thinking about him? That you choose him over everything else? That you're terrified he won't feel the same way?

In the end, you don't write anything. You'll tell him in person. Or you'll lose your nerve and not tell him at all, and you'll just... be there. Working beside him. Hoping that it'll be enough.

The train ride back feels twice as long as the trip to Charleston. You're accompanied by Mrs. Henderson, a widow your mother hired as a chaperone - a thin, severe woman.

You barely speak to her. You spend most of the journey staring out the window, watching the landscape change. As you move west, things open up. The buildings get smaller, farther apart. The sky gets bigger.

You feel like it's getting easier to breathe again.

✧✧✧

You arrive at the ranch in the late afternoon, dusty and exhausted from travel.

Mrs. Henderson takes one look at the place and makes a disapproving noise. "I'll be staying at the hotel in town," she announces. "This is hardly suitable accommodation for a lady of quality."

"That's fine," you say, too tired to argue. You pay her for her services and arrange for someone to take her into town, then turn to look at the ranch.

It's been less than two weeks since you left. It feels like years.

The house looks the same. The barn looks the same. Everything is exactly as you left it, and yet it all feels different. Or maybe you're different. Maybe you're seeing it with new eyes - not as an obligation or a temporary exile, but as home.

Martha appears on the porch, shading her eyes. "Miss? Is that you?"

"It's me, Martha."

"Lord have mercy! We weren't expecting you for another two weeks at least!" She hurries down the steps. "Does your father know you're back?"

"Not yet." You gesture to your trunk. "Could you have someone bring this inside? I need to..."

You need to find J.

"He's in the south pasture," Martha says, reading your mind in that way that she's apparently always been able to do. "Fixing fence with Tommy and Marcus."

Of course he is. Always working.

"Thank you." You start toward the barn, then stop. "Martha? Did he... did he mention me at all while I was gone?"

Martha's expression softens. "Honey, he hasn't mentioned much of anything. Been quieter than usual, working longer hours. Worried us all a bit, truth be told."

Your heart sinks, the steady rhythm feeling low and slow. You nod and continue toward the barn.

You're still in your traveling dress - entirely impractical for riding, but you don't care. You saddle up Beatrice, the mare you had been working with, and she leans her giant head into your small hand when you pat her hello. You almost sob when she nickers at you with familiarity— she's happy to see you back. Good to see you too, girl.

Then you ride out toward the south pasture.

The sun is starting to sink toward the horizon, painting everything gold. The air smells right - dust and grass and that particular scent of the prairie that you'd been missing without realizing it. Your body settles into the rhythm of the ride, into the movements that have become second nature.

This is what you wanted. Not ballrooms and champagne. This.

You see them in the distance - three figures working on a section of fence. As you get closer, you can make out details. Tommy sees you first, straightening up and shading his eyes. Then Marcus. And finally J.

He goes very still when he sees you. Even from here, even with the distance, you can see the tension that goes through his body.

You dismount while you're still several yards away, your legs shaking slightly. Now that you're here, you don't know what to say. What do you say to someone you left, someone who told you not to give him hope?

Tommy is grinning. "Well, look who's back! Didn't expect to see you for a while yet."

"Change of plans," you manage.

"We'll just... go check that other section," Marcus says, shooting Tommy a meaningful look. "Over on the far side. Take our time with it."

Tommy catches on. "Oh. Yeah. That section. Come on."

They gather their tools and head off, leaving you alone with J.

He hasn't moved. Hasn't said anything. He's just standing there, hat in his hands, watching you with an expression you can't read.

"Hi," you say, because you have to say something.

"You're back." His voice is flat, carefully neutral. "Your mother get tired of you already?"

"I got tired of Charleston."

"It's only been two weeks."

"I know."

"You're supposed to be gone a month. Your father's expecting you back with him."

"I know that too."

He stares at you for another long moment, then turns away, setting his hat back on his head. "You shouldn't have come back."

The words hit harder than they should. "Why not?"

"Because—" He stops, jaw clenching. "This isn't Charleston. This isn't you. You chose to be with your family, your old house. It's the right place to choose because it's where you belong."

"I chose wrong."

"No, you chose right." He bends to pick up his tools. "You belong there. With people like James Morrison and his—"

"How do you know about James Morrison?"

"Your father mentioned it in a letter. Said your mother was hopeful about a potential match." His voice is tight. "Sounds like exactly what you should want."

"Well, I don't want it." You move closer. "I don't want him. I don't want Charleston. I don't want any of it."

"Then what do you want?" He turns to face you fully now, and there's anger in his expression. Real anger. "Because two weeks ago you got on a train and left. You went back to your parties and your suitable suitors and your real life. And I—" He stops himself, breathing hard.

"You what?"

"I made peace with it," he says roughly. "I told myself it was the right thing. That you were where you belonged. And now you're back here saying what, exactly? That you've decided to slum it with the ranch hands for another few weeks before you get bored again?"

"That's not fair—"

"Fair?" His voice rises. "You want to talk about fair? You left. You stood in that bedroom and pushed me until I was barely holding on, until I told you things I had no business saying, and then you left. And now you're back like nothing happened, like you didn't—" He breaks off again, turning away.

"Like I didn't what?" You're close enough to touch him now. "Say it."

"Like you didn't make me have hope." The words come out quiet, bitter. "When I specifically asked you not to."

Your throat feels tight. "J, you know that's not what I meant—"

"I spent two weeks telling myself I did the right thing. That I was smart to walk away. That you'd realize what privilege you were throwing away and come to your senses." He laughs, but there's no humor in it. "And apparently you did. You went back to Charleston and remembered what your real life looked like and—"

"And I hated it," you interrupt. "Every second of it. I hated the parties and the small talk and the men. I hated the idea of having to dance with them or marry them. I hated wearing gloves to hide my calluses. I hated pretending to be interested in things that don't matter. I hated being someone I'm not."

He's staring at you now, something shifting in his expression.

"James Morrison asked to court me," you continue. "At a ball. And I realized standing there that I'd rather muck out stalls for twelve hours straight than spend another minute pretending I want to live a life with a man like him."

"So what?" J's voice is still hard. "You decided ranching is more interesting than ballrooms? That's not enough. Your life—"

"I decided I'd rather be here with you for the rest of my life than anywhere else without you for even but a second." The words tumble out, raw and honest. "I decided that waking up before dawn to work beside you matters more than all the parties in Charleston. I decided that your rare smiles and your dry humor and the way you look at me like I'm capable of everything I put my mind to…that all of that matters more than propriety or expectations or what my family wants for me."

His expression furrows with disappointment and fear. "Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't say things like that unless you really, truly mean them."

"I'm staying, J. I don't want to lie to you anymore."

"For how long?" He moves closer, and there's something almost desperate in his eyes now. "Until you get homesick again? Until winter comes and you remember that Charleston doesn't have blizzards? Until—"

You grab the front of his shirt and pull him down and kiss him.

For a heartbeat he doesn't respond, frozen in surprise. Then something breaks in him and he's kissing you back, hard and hungry and desperate. His hands come up to cup your face, angling you for better access, and he kisses you like he's starving for it.

When you finally break apart, both breathing hard, his forehead is pressed against yours.

"I'm staying," you say again, quieter now. "Not for a few weeks. Not temporarily. I'm staying because this is where I want to be. Because you're who I want."

"Your family—"

"Will adjust. Or they won't. But I'm not leaving you again. Not if I can help it."

He pulls back to look at you, searching your face. "You're serious."

"Completely."

"You'd really give up Charleston? Your whole life there?"

"I'm not giving it up. I'm trading it for something better." You touch his chin, feel the rough stubble under your fingertips.

He closes his eyes like the words hurt. "You know what you're signing up for? This life? It's not easy. It's not—"

"I know. I've been doing it for months."

"A few months isn't a good enough trial for a lifetime of living out here."

"Then give me a lifetime to prove it."

The words hang in the air between you, weighted with meaning. You see it settle in him. How it eases his anger and churns it until it turns into a dimly lit hope.

"You're going to drive me crazy," he says quietly.

"Probably."

"You're stubborn and reckless and you push me—"

"I know."

"And I—" He stops, swallows hard. "Christ, I missed you. These two weeks, I couldn't... every morning I'd look up expecting to see you and you weren't there and it felt like—"

You kiss him again, softer this time. "I'm here now."

"Yeah." His arms come around you, pulling you close. "You're here now."

You stand there for a long moment, just holding each other. The sun is setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. Somewhere in the distance, you can hear cattle lowing. The wind rustles through the grass.

This is home. Not the house or the land, but this - his arms around you, the solid weight of him, the way he's holding you like he's afraid you'll disappear.

"We should get you back," he says eventually, though he doesn't loosen his grip. "It'll be dark soon."

"In a minute."

"In a minute," he agrees.

But when he pulls back to look at you again, there's something different in his expression. Something you've only seen from him once before.

"What?" you ask.

"I spent two weeks trying not to think about you," he says quietly. "About what I said to you before you left. About how you looked in that room, in your wet chemise, looking at me—"

"Looking at you like I wanted to cross the room and take you for myself?"

His jaw clenches. "Yeah. Like that."

"I did want that. I do want that."

"But I know your father—"

"Isn't here. Won't be here for another week or so."

"Martha—"

"Knows how to mind her business. She did tell me where to find you. I think she knew my feelings for you long before even I did." You slide your hands up his chest, feel his heart pounding. "And I'm tired of restraint, J. Tired of all the reasons we shouldn't do what I know I want to do. Aren't you?"

For a moment he just looks at you, and you can see the war in his expression. Then something shifts, resolves.

"Yeah," he says roughly. "I'm fucking tired of it, too..."

Then he's kissing you again, deeper this time, more demanding. His hands slide down to your waist, gripping hard enough that you can feel the pressure even through your dress. You make a sound against his mouth and he responds with a low groan, walking you backward until your back hits the fence post.

"We can't do this here," he mutters against your lips. "Middle of the pasture where anyone might be able to—"

"Then take me somewhere we can."

He pulls back, his eyes dark and intense. That fear is still gripping onto him tightly. "You sure?"

"I don't want to go back. I don't want to pretend." You reach up to cup his face. "I want you. All of you. Everything you've been holding back."

For another heartbeat he just stares at you. Then he steps back and takes your hand, lacing his fingers through yours.

"Come on."

✧✧✧

He leads you to where the horses are grazing, helps you mount Beatrice even though you don't need the help, then swings up onto his own horse. You ride back toward the ranch in the gathering dusk, and every second feels charged with anticipation.

By the time you reach the barn, the sun has set and the sky is deepening to purple. J dismounts and comes to help you down, his hands on your waist, and when your feet touch the ground he doesn't let go.

"Last chance," he says quietly. "We can stop now. Go back to how things were."

"Mm." You lean into him. "Now why would I ever want that when I could have you instead?"

Something in his expression eases. Then, he puts two fingers to his mouth and lets out a sharp whistle - two short bursts, then a long one.

In the distance, you see Marcus and Tommy look up. Tommy grins and waves. Marcus just shakes his head, but even from here you can see he's smiling. They gather their tools and head off in the opposite direction, toward the far fence line.

"What was that?" you ask.

"Signal," J whispers concisely. He walks over to his horse - the big black gelding, Dante - and swings up into the saddle in one smooth motion. Then he reaches down for you. "Come on."

"I can ride Beatrice—"

"Not putting you on a different horse. I know how much you like coddling her, but she's a good girl. She brought you to me, didn't she?" His eyes are dark, intense. "You're riding back with me."

The possessiveness in his voice makes heat pool low in your belly. You take his hand and he pulls you up like you weigh nothing, settling you in front of him in the saddle. Your legs dangle on one side, and you have to twist slightly to keep your balance, but his arm comes around your waist, holding you firmly against his chest.

"Got you," he murmurs against your ear. "Not letting go."

The ride back feels twice as long as it should. You're hyperaware of every point of contact - his chest against your back, his arm around your waist, his thighs bracketing yours. You can feel the heat of him even through your clothes, feel the steady rhythm of his breathing.

When Dante shifts beneath you, adjusting his gait, you're pressed even closer. You can feel the hard length of J against your hip, evidence of exactly what he's been thinking about.

"Stop squirming," he says, his voice strained.

"I'm not squirming."

"You are." His arm tightens around you. "And if you keep doing it, I'm not gonna make it back to the barn."

"Maybe I don't want you to."

He makes a low sound in his throat - half groan, half growl. "Don't tempt me. I've got just enough control left to do this proper, in private. Semi-private, at that."

The threat (or promise?) makes you shiver. "Would you take me now if I begged, J?"

"Right now? Yeah. I would." His hand slides from your waist to your hip, gripping hard. "Been waiting too long. Want you too much."

You turn your head to look at him and find his face inches from yours, his jaw tight with restraint, his eyes burning.

"Then hurry," you whisper. "Before I get impatient."

He makes that sound again and makes a clicking sound that urges Dante faster. The handsome black beauty responds immediately, moving from a walk to a trot, and the motion bounces you against J's chest. His arm tightens, holding you secure, and you can feel his heart pounding as fast as yours.

✧✧✧

By the time you reach the barn, the sun has set completely and the sky is deep purple edging to black. J dismounts and reaches up for you, his hands spanning your waist, and when your feet touch the ground he doesn't let go immediately.

"Last chance," he says quietly. "We can stop now. Go back to how things were."

"I don't want how things were." You lean into him, feeling the solid strength of him, the heat. "I want how things could be."

Something in his expression breaks open - raw want mixed with something that looks almost like relief. Like he'd been afraid you'd change your mind.

"Alright then." His voice has gone rough, gravelly. "Get inside. I'll put Dante away."

"I can help—"

"No." His hand slides to your lower back, half-smacking your butt through your skirts, urging you toward the barn. "You go in. I'll be right behind you."

You slip inside while he leads Dante to his stall. The barn is dim and quiet, just the soft sounds of horses settling for the night. You hear J murmuring to the gelding - low, soothing words you can't quite make out (maybe a 'thanks buddy, you're the best wing-horse ever') - then the sound of tack being removed, hooves shifting in straw.

When he appears a moment later, his eyes find you immediately in the dimness. He doesn't say anything, just takes your hand and leads you toward the tack room in the back.

It's small and private, smelling of leather and saddle soap and oil - smelling like him. He lights a lantern with hands that aren't quite steady, and in the golden glow you can see exactly how affected he is. The tension in his shoulders, the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the way his jaw is clenched tight.

"Come here," he says, and it's not a request.

You cross the small space and then his mouth is on yours, needy and demanding. His hands are in your hair immediately, scattering pins across the floor, destroying the careful style until your hair falls loose around your shoulders.

"Been wanting to do that," he mutters against your lips. "See it down. See it...messy."

You pull at his shirt, trying to get it untucked, needing to feel his skin. He breaks the kiss just long enough to yank it over his head, buttons popping as it goes up and over, and then you're finally, finally touching him.

He's all hard muscle and warm skin, still damp with the day's sweat. There's dark hair across his chest, scars marking his ribs and shoulder. He smells like work and leather and salt, and instead of being off-putting it makes something in you clench with want.

"Your turn," he says roughly, his hands already reaching for the buttons down the back of your dress.

He works them open with surprising dexterity - you'd think hands that big, that work-roughened, would fumble. But he's methodical, focused, each button sliding free easily. When he gets to the last one, he peels the bodice forward and down your arms.

The sleeves catch at your wrists and he works the cuff buttons free too, patient despite the hunger in his eyes. The dress falls in a puddle around your feet and you step out of it.

"Keep going," you say, and your voice comes out breathier than intended. "But I want you to hear something while you work."

His eyes flick to yours, dark and questioning, but his hands move to the tapes of your petticoats. "Yeah?"

"I've been thinking," you continue as the petticoats fall away, pooling at your feet. "About what everyone in Charleston would say if they could see me right now."

His hands pause on the laces of your corset. "And what would they say?"

"They'd be horrified." You can feel your cheeks heating but you push on. "Their perfectly bred lady, alone in a barn with a ranch hand. Letting him undress her. Wanting him to."

He makes a low sound and his fingers resume working the laces, faster now.

"Elizabeth would faint if she knew I was thinking about you during all those parties. That while James Morrison was asking to court me, I was imagining your hands on me instead of his."

"Christ," he mutters.

"My mother would die if she knew what I let you say to me that night. What I said back." The corset loosens and you take a full breath. "What I did to myself after you left, thinking about your voice telling me all those filthy things."

His breathing has gone harsh, his jaw tight.

"And if they knew what I was about to let you do to me..." You meet his eyes. "What I'm going to beg you to do to me. They'd call me ruined. Scandalous. Unfit for polite society."

He grabs the neckline of your chemise with both hands and rips.

The fabric tears with a sound that seems impossibly loud in the quiet room. You gasp - from shock more than anything - as the ruined garment falls away, leaving you bare from the waist up.

"Good," he says roughly, his eyes traveling over your exposed skin like he wants to devour you. "Let them call you whatever they want. You're mine now. Don't give a damn what Charleston thinks about it." He reaches for your drawers, fingers finding the drawstring. "And I'm about to ruin you for any of those soft-handed gentlemen anyway."

He doesn't untie the drawstring so much as yank it, breaking the ribbon. The drawers slide down your hips and you step out of them, and then you're completely bare.

For a moment he just looks at you, and the intensity of his gaze makes you feel like a lone lamb near the edge of the woods, where the hungry wolf waits impatiently to feed. You feel your stomach drop—fear and lust swirling into a devious concoction that only made the space between your legs more slick.

"You were saying something," he says, his voice gone gravelly. "About being ruined. About what you're gonna beg me to do."

"I—" Your mind has gone blank, all your provocative words scattered by the reality of him looking at you like that. "I want—"

"Want me to ruin you?" His hand slides up your side, rough calluses catching on your smooth skin. "Make it so you can't ever go back to those proper Charleston boys?"

"Yes."

"Want me to touch you places a lady's not supposed to be touched?" He bends his head and drags his lips across your collarbone, down to your breast. "Do things to you that'd make your mother clutch her pearls?"

"Yes—!"

He takes your nipple in his mouth and your words dissolve into a gasp. His hand is on your other breast, thumb circling, and the dual sensation makes your knees weak.

"What else?" he asks against your skin. "What else you want me to do that'd scandalize all of Charleston?"

"Everything," you manage. "Every improper, indecent thing you can think of. I want you to—" You gasp as his teeth scrape against sensitive skin. "I want you to make me forget I was ever a proper lady."

"You are mine," he says roughly, straightening up. "And I'm gonna make sure you remember that. Make sure when you're walking around this ranch tomorrow, you know exactly who you belong to." His hands go to his belt, working it free. "Now stop talking about Charleston and let me show you what it means to be a ranch hand's woman. Well, we'll see if you can handle it, first."

There's something in his tone - careful, measured - that makes you remember this is your first time. That he knows that and is being thoughtful about it even though you can see the effort it's taking him to go slow.

"I can handle it," you say.

"Maybe." He works his belt free, then the buttons of his trousers. "But we're gonna make sure."

He pushes his trousers and drawers down in one motion and then he's as naked as you are, and—

Oh.

He's big everywhere, just like you'd suspected. Thick and hard and flushed dark with want. The sight of him makes something flutter in your belly - nervousness mixed with anticipation.

He sees your expression and something softens in his face. "Hey." He cups your jaw, tilting your face up to his. "We'll go slow. I'll make it good for you."

"...I know."

"And if it's too much, if you need me to stop—"

"I'll tell you." You press closer, feeling the hard length of him against your belly. "...I trust you."

His eyes close briefly, let the words warm him up. Then he's pulling you down to the pile of saddle blankets in the corner, making a nest of them before settling with his back against the wall.

"Come here," he says, patting his thigh.

You move to straddle his lap but he catches your hips, redirecting you. "Not yet. Here first." He guides you to sit between his spread thighs, your back to his chest. "Need to get you ready."

You can feel him hard and hot against your lower back. His arms come around you, one hand splaying across your stomach, holding you against him, while the other slides down between your thighs.

"Spread your legs," he murmurs against your ear. "Let me touch you."

You do, and his hand slides lower. One thick finger slides through your folds, testing, and you both make a sound when he finds how wet you already are.

"Good girl," he says roughly. "Already so wet for me."

He circles that sensitive bundle of nerves and you gasp, your hips jerking. His other arm tightens around your waist, holding you in place.

"Easy," he murmurs. "Easy now. Just gonna touch you a bit. Get you nice and ready."

His finger slides lower, circling your entrance, and then he's pushing in slowly. The intrusion feels strange at first, foreign, but not bad. He works it in and out a few times, patient and methodical.

"That's it," he says. "Nice and easy. You're doing real good."

There's something about his tone - low and soothing, almost like he's gentling a skittish horse - that should probably be insulting but instead just makes you hotter. Like he's coaxing you, working you up to something bigger.

He adds a second finger and the stretch is more pronounced now. You make a small sound and his arm tightens around you.

"Shh, I got you. Just breathe through it." He works his fingers deeper, spreading them slightly. "Gotta stretch you out or I'll hurt you when I get inside."

The words make you clench around his fingers and he makes an approving sound. "You like that? Like thinking about me inside you?"

"Yes," you gasp.

"Gonna feel so good," he mutters, more to himself than to you. "So tight around me. Been thinking about it for months. How you'd feel. How you'd sound."

His fingers curl inside you, finding a spot that makes you cry out. He makes that clicking sound with his tongue - the same sound he uses with the horses when they do something right - and does it again.

"There it is," he says with satisfaction. "That's the spot."

He works you methodically, his fingers inside you while his thumb circles that sensitive spot, and you can feel pleasure building fast and sharp. Your hips are moving now, riding his hand, and he makes encouraging sounds.

"That's it. Take what you need. Feels so good, right darlin'? Gettin' yourself ready for me?"

"Y-yes! J, I'm—I'm going to—"

"Go ahead," he says. "Want to feel you come on my fingers first. Get you nice and relaxed."

The orgasm hits hard, clenching around his fingers, and he works you through it with steady pressure until you're gasping and trembling.

"Good," he says roughly. "So good for me. Think you can take more?"

"Yes. Please."

He withdraws his fingers and you whimper at the loss. But then he's shifting you, turning you to face him, and lifting you easily into his lap.

From this position you can feel him right there, thick and hard and pressing against you. The height difference is even more pronounced like this - he's so much bigger than you, broad and solid, and you feel almost delicate in comparison.

"You sure about this?" he asks, his hands on your hips. "Once we do this, that's it. You're mine. No returns."

"I'm already yours," you tell him. "Have been since that night in the rain."

Something in his expression cracks open. Then he's lifting you slightly, positioning you over him. You can feel the blunt head of him pressing against your entrance, and your breath catches.

"Easy now," he murmurs. "Nice and slow. You're in control here. Take as much or as little as you can handle."

You lower yourself slowly and the stretch is immediate and intense. He's so much bigger than his fingers, and for a moment you're not sure you can do this.

"Breathe," he says, his hands steadying you. "Just breathe through it. You can take it."

You sink down another inch and have to stop, panting. It burns, the stretch almost too much, but underneath it is something else. Something that makes you want more even as you're overwhelmed.

"That's it," he's saying, his voice strained. "Doing so good. Taking me so well."

His hands are on your hips, helping support your weight but letting you set the pace. You can see the effort it's taking him to stay still, to let you adjust - the tension in his jaw, the way his muscles are rigid with restraint, the way his breathing has gone harsh and ragged.

"Can't believe how tight you are," he grits out. "How good you feel."

You sink down further, then a bit more, until finally - finally - you're fully seated. You feel impossibly full, stretched around him, split open on him. For a moment you can't breathe, can't think, can only feel.

"Alright?" he manages, and his voice is wrecked.

"Yeah. Just—give me a second."

He holds perfectly still, and you can feel him trembling with the effort. His hands are tight on your hips, his eyes locked on where you're joined, and there's something almost reverent in his expression. Like he can't quite believe this is happening.

Slowly, the burn fades. You shift experimentally and the movement sends sparks through you - good sparks, pleasure sparks.

"Oh," you breathe.

"Yeah?" His hands flex on your hips. "Feel good?"

"Yeah. Really good."

"Think you can move? Or you need more time?"

"I can move." You rise up slightly, feeling the drag of him against your walls, then sink back down. "Oh, God."

"That's it," he says roughly. "Ride me. Set the pace. Take what you need."

You start to move, finding a rhythm. It's awkward at first - you're not sure what to do, how to angle yourself - but he guides you with his hands, helping you find what feels good.

His eyes are locked on you - on your face, your chest, but especially where your bodies are joined. Then he reaches over and grabs his hat from where it fell, settling it on your head.

"There," he says, his voice rough with satisfaction. "Now you look like you belong to a cowboy."

The hat's too big, slipping down slightly, and you have to tilt your head back to see him properly. Something about it - wearing his hat while you ride him, while he watches you with those dark, hungry eyes - makes you feel bold. Claimed.

"Save a horse," you manage breathlessly, and he groans out a weak laugh.

"There you go," he murmurs when you find an angle that makes you both gasp. "Right there. Just like that."

You move faster, more confidently, and his hands tighten on your hips. You can see him starting to lose that iron control - his jaw clenched, his breathing harsh, his eyes going dark and unfocused.

"Christ," he grits out. "Not gonna last. Feel too good."

"I don't want you to last." You clench around him deliberately and he groans. "I want you to lose control. Want you to stop being so darn careful and just—"

His control snaps. His hands tighten on your hips and he takes over, driving up into you hard and fast. The change in intensity makes you cry out, your hands clutching at his shoulders for balance.

"Like this?" he growls. "This what you want? Want me to fuck you hard?"

"Yes—God, yes—"

He shifts the angle and suddenly he's hitting that spot inside you with every single thrust. The pleasure builds sharp and fast, winding you tighter and higher with each movement. One of his hands slides between your bodies, his thumb finding that sensitive spot, and the dual sensation makes you see stars.

"Come for me," he demands. "Want to feel you come on my cock."

The combination of his thumb circling, his cock driving deep, the raw possession in his voice - it's too much. You come hard, clenching around him, and the sensation must push him over too because he's following with a hoarse shout, burying himself deep and holding there.

You feel him pulse inside you, feel the heat of him filling you, marking you from the inside. The intimacy of it is overwhelming.

For a long moment neither of you moves. You're both breathing hard, sweating, trembling. His arms come around you, pulling you against his chest, and you can hear his heart thundering.

"Jesus Christ," he finally manages, his voice wrecked. "That was—"

"Yeah."

He pulls back to look at you, and there's wonder in his expression mixed with satisfaction and something that might be possessiveness. His hand comes up to cup your face, his thumb brushing your cheekbone with surprising gentleness.

"You alright? Wasn't too rough?"

"It was perfect." You touch his face, feeling the scratch of his stubble. "Exactly what I needed."

"Good." His arms tighten around you briefly, then he's shifting, easing you off his lap. You whimper at the loss, feeling empty, but he just gives you that dark look. "Because I'm not done with you yet. That was just to take the edge off."

"There's more?"

"Darlin'," he says with a rough laugh, standing and pulling you up with him, "we're just getting started. I got two weeks of wanting to make up for."

He's still half-hard already, you notice, and the sight makes something clench low in your belly.

"Turn around," he says, his voice dropping back to that commanding tone.

"What—"

"Turn around. Face the wall. Hands on it."

You do as he says, your heart starting to pound again. He takes the hat off your head carefully, almost reverently, and hangs it on a hook beside you - a reminder of what you just did, of how you looked wearing it while riding him.

You hear him moving behind you, the sound of rope being pulled from where it hangs on the wall. Then his hands are on your wrists, and you feel the rough hemp wrapping around them.

"This alright?" he asks, pausing. "Can stop if you want."

"Don't stop…it's okay. Not as rough as I thought it was going to be." you breathe.

He ties your wrists together with practiced efficiency - not tight enough to hurt, but secure enough that you couldn't free yourself easily. Then he's guiding your bound hands up over your head, looping the rope through a hook on the wall that normally holds bridles. Your arms are stretched above you, and you're on your toes slightly to stay comfortable.

"Christ," he mutters behind you. "Look at you like this."

His hands slide down your sides, over your hips, squeezing. You're completely exposed like this, unable to cover yourself, unable to do anything but take whatever he wants to give.

"You remember what I said that night?" His voice is rough, close to your ear. "About taking you until you felt it with every step?"

"Yes," you manage.

"Good." His hand slides between your thighs from behind, finding you still wet and sensitive. "Because that's exactly what I'm about to do."

He works two fingers into you and you gasp, still tender from before but your body responding immediately. He's relentless, working you with the same methodical focus he brings to everything, and within minutes you're panting, pressing back against his hand, whimpering for more like an animal in heat.

"That's it," he says. "Get yourself ready for me again."

When he withdraws his fingers, you hear him spit - and then feel the wetness as he spreads it over himself. The crude intimacy of it makes you shudder.

"Spread your legs wider," he commands. "Arch your back."

You do, and then he's right there, the blunt head of him pressing against you from behind. This angle feels different, more intense somehow. He pushes in slowly and you feel every inch, the stretch even more pronounced in this position.

"Fuck," he groans as he sinks in deep. "Feel even tighter like this."

He doesn't give you as much time to adjust this time - just starts moving with those long, deep strokes that make you gasp. His hands are on your hips, gripping hard enough to leave marks, using the leverage to pull you back onto him with each thrust.

"Been wanting to do this," he's saying roughly. "Bend you over and take you like this. See your hands tied, see you helpless for me."

The rope bites into your wrists with each movement, grounding you, reminding you that you're at his mercy. And God help you, you love it. Love being under his control, love the way he's taking what he wants, love the filthy sounds filling the small room.

One of his hands leaves your hip and you feel it slide around to your front, finding that sensitive spot. The angle combined with his fingers makes the pleasure sharp and immediate.

"Come for me again," he demands. "Want to feel you squeeze my cock."

You're so sensitive from the first time that it doesn't take long. The orgasm builds fast and crashes over you hard, and you bite your lip to keep from screaming.

"That's it," he groans. "Fuck, that's it—"

His rhythm falters and then he's following you over with a deep groan, pressing deep and holding there. You feel him pulse inside you again, marking you again, and something about it - the possessiveness, the claiming - makes you clench around him.

For a long moment he just stays there, pressed against your back, both of you breathing hard. Then his hands are gentle as they reach up to untie the rope, carefully working the knot free and lowering your arms.

You sag back against him, truly feeling like you would not be able to walk properly, and he holds you up easily in response, turning you to face him and lifting you like you weigh nothing. He carries you back to the saddle blankets and settles down with you in his lap, both of you still naked and not caring.

"You're dangerous," he mutters after a moment, his voice rough but fond.

"Me?! You're the one who just tied me up…"

"Yeah, and you loved every second of it." His hand slides up your spine. "Could feel how wet it made you."

You can't deny that, so you just nestle closer. You can feel the evidence of what you've done - the ache between your thighs, the tenderness, the wetness. Tomorrow you really will feel every step.

"Should probably get you back to the house," he says eventually, though his arms tighten around you. "It's full dark now. Martha will worry."

"Let her worry," you murmur against his chest. "I'm not ready to move yet."

"No?"

"No. I just got you back. I want to stay here a little longer. And with my father gone from the house, I am in charge. So…you have to listen to me."

He chuckles, his arms tightening around you. "Can't say no to that."

So, you stay there wrapped up in each other and saddle blankets and the smell of leather and sex, while the night deepens into midnight blues and silver outside.

Eventually you'll have to face reality - Martha's knowing looks, your father's eventual return, trying to explain your love of this cowboy to your mother, building a life together in the open when your parents do end up going back to the city without you.

But that'll all be problems to tackle come morning.

[pandawasbored]

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Real Life

I accidentally deleted this ask (oops). Took a little break from writing but I've been getting back into it! I wanted to make this one sweet because I have some nyastyyy smut in the works >:3 Enjoy <3

Jschlatt x reader, sfw, gender neutral reader

Wc : 2,721

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You never intended to start streaming. In fact, there was something about it that you found vain and self conceited in an odd way. The nine to five life was just fine for you, until it stopped paying the bills. The monotony of waking up, getting ready, driving to the office, “working”, driving home, and repeating the cycle drove you mad. Over the years, friends convinced you that you had the secret sauce to be a streamer. Or at the very least, some kind of creative. And when money is low and people get desperate, you do dumb things despite your normal reasoning. 

That’s how you started, with very humble beginnings. No face cam, using a screen name, playing games for your friends on Twitch. Your friends started to invite other friends, and slowly but surely you built a small but dedicated fanbase. A stream after work here and there turned into making more money than your normal job paid, and taking the leap to quit being a desk jockey was a large but worthwhile decision. The good money and the community was a lifesaver for you in a way, and you grew to actually love your niche internet celebrity life. No one knew your face or your real name, but the bonds you made with other creators breathed a new life into you. You mainly kept to your familiar games and your own little corner of Twitch, so it was a wonder how you even came to know of the boisterous and loud New Yorker. One of your chatters mentioned Jschlatt in the chat, and you decided to pull up his drunk driving stream. The idea was genius, and his viewer count was insane for someone with no schedule. He made you giggle and from that point on you were a goner. You both became acquaintances, he’d pop in your chat from time to time or vice versa. That led to you both chatting sporadically on discord, which then led to gaming with shared friends, then to exchanging phone numbers, and eventually to shared streams and appearing in a few videos together. All of it summed up into a lovely friendship between you and the big guy. On the daily you received random texts about his various new cars, random images of his cats with no explanation, and whatever sumo match he was invested in. You were always bombarded with nudges on iMessage to play pool at the most random times, but nevertheless it made you cherish his friendship even more. 

Despite living in two different states and battling the slight time difference, you both would call each other on discord just to have some kind of company. 

“Hey I’m making a new soup recipe, wanna watch?”

“Just finished another book, I’m gonna tell you about it.”

“Wanna see the new liquor I just bought?”

“Jambo looks so cute rn call me asap.”

“Sleep call?”

As aloof as Schlatt portrayed himself to be to strangers and his audience, you could see the little cracks of warmth and friendliness from how much he wanted to talk to you despite not knowing what you looked like or even your real name. As far as you knew he did the same thing with other close friends, so you didn’t think there was much of a significance to his insistence at hearing your voice almost every week. It was routine, he became a pillar in your otherwise sort of mundane life. 

As your channels grew and grew with time, you knew it would be unavoidable to stay faceless forever. It wasn’t even a scheduled stream, you just booted up OBS and let the viewers flood in for what they thought would be your normal routine. You acted as if nothing was different as you addressed the stream and turned your camera on, ignoring the way chat blew up. Loads of compliments and people expressing their shock over their favorite formerly mysterious streamer being drop dead gorgeous. It gave you a boost of confidence and calmed your racing heart as you just kept playing the game with a soft smile. 

Unbeknownst to you, Schlatt was watching and he was watching intently. He’d rather drop dead than admit how fond he was of you or how much he lurked in your streams. He nearly felt his heart drop to his stomach when your camera turned on. Schlatt wasn’t shallow, he never gave a shit what you looked like or took any offense to you staying so private even with good friends. But you were quite pleasant to look at, and he found himself sitting back in his chair with a soft smirk. He knew he was down bad, but this was the cherry on top. He shook himself out of his stupor and very nearly chastised himself for thinking that way about a friend, especially you. For months and months he agonized over those feelings. Schlatt wasn’t the picturesque warm and friendly guy, but you made him open up and act a little bit more that way. His voice was always a little softer around you, he was a little more patient, a little more silly and cracking more jokes. He hated how soft you made him.

…But he also didn’t hate it at all. 

So when you finally decided to take a trip to the big apple to see a non internet friend, Schlatt tried his best not to seem too desperate about possibly hanging out. You agreed immediately, excited that Schlatt would be the first out of all your internet friends to meet in real life. You and him were the most close anyway. That first time meeting made your heart beat wildly in your chest, your stomach doing flips as you both met in the city. He remembered how small you seemed compared to him, your cheeks flushed as you tried to hide in your scarf just a little. You both went in for a hug after a few awkward moments of deciding how to greet each other, and that was when you finally told him your real name. Schlatt fought so hard to keep up his nonchalant front as he showed you around the city and took you to some of his favorite spots. 

As time passed, it became more of an occurrence for you both to see each other in person. It was still rare, but Schlatt actively made more plans or contractual obligations as an excuse to fly out to your city. You were close enough friends to invite him to your place, despite his insistence to book hotels for the night anyway. It was on one of those laid back nights on his trip that he was over at your place. No cameras, no videos to be made, just two souls existing together. You had both gone out to dinner at one of your favorite hole in the wall spots earlier in the night, laughing and talking all the while before heading to your place. The smell of freshly baked cookies and incense filled your apartment as the two of you sat on your balcony in a comfy loveseat. The night air was crisp and slightly chilled, the stars bright and high in the sky. Smoke from your ash tray that sat on the railing whispered into the darkness as Schlatt looked out into the city skyline. He was hunched over a little, elbows on his knees, upper lip occasionally pursing so he could feel his mustache tickle his nose. You knew him well enough to know he was thinking real hard about something, but you decided to simply pass the blunt off to him instead to avoid ruining the quiet and intimate moment. Schlatt took a few lazy hits and kept his eyes focused on anything but you, lost in thought. 

You couldn’t help but notice how gentle and soft he looked in the moment. The words left your lips before you could even stop them.

“You look peaceful like this.”

Schlatt immediately flicked his brown eyes to you quizzically, raising an eyebrow. 

“I’m peaceful?”

“Yeah.”

You smiled oh so gently, it was almost wistful. It made his heart seize up and palpitate against his ribs. He wasn’t used to people looking at him like that, let alone being called “peaceful”. He played his persona up for the cameras, loud and almost obnoxious. The realization that you were the only one to see him so genuinely was frightening, and for the first time in his life he felt like a deer in the headlights. He was always so careful to keep himself guarded and shrouded in a persona or in some kind of irony, and it dawned on him how close you two had gotten despite his resistance to think of you romantically. You both were just really good friends, right?

Schlatt cleared his throat hoarsely, sitting back in his spot next to you. 

“You’re crazy,”

He chuckled under his breath slightly, trying to not fall into being too sincere. If he did, he wasn’t sure if he could stop himself. You snorted, knowing this was an implied bit you both did. If one was a bit too real, the other always balanced it with some kind of joke or brushed it off. It wasn’t to be rude, simply that you both had an unspoken understanding about keeping a friendly distance between each other despite how close you had become over time. Something nagged at you that Schlatt always had that metaphorical wall up. You had a window to peek through it because you were deemed special enough to have one, but it tugged on your heartstrings that there was always something hidden with him. Truthfully, you wanted to know all of him inside and out. He was so complex, so multifaceted, it was almost a tease to know you couldn’t indulge yourself in his entirety. The glimpses you got only served as a taste and you were greedy.

You reached over to him, scooting closer on purpose, and plucked the blunt from his fingers to take another hit. As the smoke exited your lips, you set the blunt down and leaned against Schlatt’s sturdy frame. He was so warm even though it was cold outside and you couldn’t help but cuddle into his side. You gently let your head rest on his broad shoulder, looking wherever he was so focused on in the horizon. 

“I can hear the gears in your head turning,”

You whispered, your words muffled a bit from being pressed into him. Schlatt stiffened the moment you made contact with him, eyes transfixed onto the lights of a far off skyscraper. If he could melt into a puddle he was sure he would. 

“I got a lot of my mind lately,”

He answered simply, his tone clipped and low. He hated how observant you were. He hated how you could read him like a book. 

…But he didn’t really hate it.

“You can tell me about it if you’d like. I won’t judge too hard,”

You cracked a ghost of a smile, joking to try and ease his obviously serious mood. He shifted a little to run a hand through his chestnut hair, sighing all the while. For as much as the weed relaxed him, he could only focus on how good you felt against him and how much he wanted to just pour his heart out to you. He hesitated for a moment, deciding that it was obvious as all hell he loved you and you probably loved him back. If this intimate blip in time and your friendship was meant to be ruined, so be it. 

“I feel like an asshole every time I’m around you…”

He started, which made you scrunch your face in confusion and look up at him. He could feel your large eyes on him as he continued.

“I love you and I’ve been pretending like I don’t for god knows how long.”

You swore you could feel how your stomach flipped and then dropped at his confession, which was definitely not the reaction you expected from your nervous system. Time froze and Schlatt immediately wanted the earth to swallow him whole when you didn’t answer immediately. He finally turned his gaze towards you as you sat up and stared at him in shock, you almost couldn’t believe your luck. 

“You love me?”

The words came out of your mouth in what was barely a whisper of disbelief. Schlatt cracked an awkward, tight lipped smile and nodded, ready to backtrack at any moment. 

“You’re an idiot,”

Was all you could say before you threw yourself into his arms and hugged him as tightly as you could manage. The smell of his favorite perfume filled your nostrils, warm and vaguely vanilla. It felt like home, like two puzzle pieces fitting together. Schlatt immediately hugged you back, his large hands finding purchase on your delicate back. He could only exhale before he buried his face against your hair, afraid to open his mouth and say anything more as if it would ruin the dream. Like he would wake up at any second in his pathetically empty bed and you would be gone like the smoke in the wind. 

“I love you too,”

You mumbled into his shoulder, your breath warm on the fabric of his hoodie. You pulled away with a soft smile, hands resting on his chest as if itching to do something. Schlatt’s hands traveled from your back, over your sides, and down your arms to rest on top of your hands on his chest as if to hold them closer to his heart. He couldn’t believe how you both were so stubborn about confessing, that you both entertained and fed into the “bit” that kept you both apart as a courtesy to the other. He chuckled at the thought, your smile widening at the sight. Schlatt looked lighter, like that immense weight dissipated off his shoulders instantly. It filled your heart that the wall was crumbling and he was all yours. You could feel how fast his heart was beating under your fingertips. 

“Can I kiss you?”

You asked tentatively, almost unable to hold yourself back.

“Sweetheart, if you ever ask to kiss me again and I say no, fuckin’ kill me,” 

He replied instantly, pulling you closer and pressing his lips to yours in one of the most sweet and gentle kisses you had ever had. Your body felt like it was heating up and melting like wax as you relaxed into him, your hands sliding up his chest and over his shoulders to grab the sides of his face. His chops felt scratchy under your touch but you loved every second of it. His hands moved to grab your hips to pull you closer, slowly leaning over you as if to trap you between him and the loveseat sofa. 

Your whole life, friends would always tell you how a first kiss felt to them. A spark, fireworks, a shiver. But this wasn’t anything like those descriptions. The kiss with Schlatt was warm and gooey, like you could feel your entire body warm up pleasantly as if you were sitting by a fireplace with some tea after a long and cold day. Like snuggling into your comforter when you really needed a nap. The flutter of excitement that you’d get in your chest when you’d walk outside on the first day of spring and feeling the warmth of the sun on your skin. It could only be described as being right. 

You pulled away from the kiss first to catch your breath, and you swore Schlatt whined under his breath and tried to chase your lips with his own for a split second. Damn him and his bigger lung capacity, he could’ve kissed you all night if you let him. You ran a hand through his locks fondly, holding him close,

“Can I kiss you again?”

You asked, a mischievous smile forming. Schlatt chuckled and nearly dove back into your lips, unafraid to finally pour out all his feelings for you. You thought back to that moment when you decided to start streaming, that choice that ultimately led you to this sweet moment. 

You wish you could kick your past self for thinking streaming was cringe.

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[fawngirl4president]

. ˖ ꒰𑁬 𝓣𝓸𝓸 𝓢𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓽 ♡ 𝓙𝓼𝓬𝓱𝓵𝓪𝓽𝓽 ໒꒱ ˖ . | 18+

SUMMARY ♡ based off the hozier song. Fem reader is pathetically infatuated with Schlatt. “Just friends” except you argue as much as you flirt. (frenemies to lovers ¿)

TLDR Alcohol leads to questionable decisions.

CW ♡ smut, alcohol, second hand embarrassment, language, angst, porn with plot, the fluffiest shit i’ll ever write, no use of y/n, feelings

WORD COUNT ♡ 6k

NOTES ♡ i typically only post on ao3, but am trying to migrate over to tumblr and cross post some of my old works, so i apologize in advance if this is formatted poorly :p

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You had the fattest fucking crush on Schlatt, the kind of crush that was painfully obvious to everyone, except for Schlatt himself. He's been your friend for a while now, but you still couldn't say you know a single thing about him romantically. You'd never met someone so seemingly devoid of emotion, and for whatever masochistic reason you still wanted him, bad.

Maybe he had a secret girlfriend or even boyfriend...? He was definitely the private type, but honestly if he did, you hoped nobody would ever let you know. ignorance is bliss, and well, bliss in the form of a fine, New York man might just be worth it.

"Do you enjoy following me around like a lost puppy, or are you bored of the movie already?" Schlatt asked you without shifting his focus from the crystal glasses laid out in front of him. Delicately tipping the bottle of whiskey, slow and steady with the intention of pouring them as evenly as possible.

You were only slightly taken aback by his question, he enjoyed poking fun at you, so this was really nothing new, but it was the first thing either of you said since entering his kitchen. You shifted your weight on the barstool, noticing one of the legs had long lost its stopper, causing the seat to feel unbalanced and wobbly. "The movie just started, how would I know if it's boring or not? And besides, you asked if I wanted to help".

"you aren't helping much though, are you? If i wanted someone to just sit there looking pretty I could've asked Ted".

Your cheeks obnoxiously began to heat up, in a round about way, he called you pretty. A win is a win. You rolled your eyes, leaning forward in your chair, elbows resting on the marble island, propped up in order to hold either side of your face, partially in attempt to hide the evidence of your blushing appearance.

He glanced up this time, awaiting a snarky response as he analyzed you, attempting to gauge your reaction. Schlatt smirked to himself, making a small sound similar to a scoff. He turned his back to you, returning the remaining liquor to the freezer.

"you're funny, you know that?" He asked, but it seemed more rhetorical than anything.

"Hilarious, if you ask me".

"I didn't". He chuckled, returning to the island with a bag of ice.

"Why the fuck are you putting the ice in second?" You frowned, watching the frozen cubes plop in, splashing back onto his hand. Dummy.

"You're distracting me, shut up".

"I didn't know I had that kind of effect on you". You teased, feeling satisfied with his lack of response, it was rare you said something that actually managed to shut him up.

"Whatever, just help me carry these, will ya?" He moved to your right side, extending two full glasses to you. You swiveled on the stool turning towards him, finally realizing how close he was, geez. His chest was at eye level for you, forcing you to look up if you wanted to make any type of eye contact. You didn't know how to explain it, but it felt like a test. Schlatt often had a habit of getting a little too close, or lingering too long. It felt like being forced to submit to him in a way, nothing was ever said about it, but he had to know what he was doing. The little smirk on his face after, he was so fucking smug about it.

"See, i'm helping". you stood up, not caring that you practically pressed your body against him on your way up, you took the drinks, walking past him and returning to the living room. After what seemed like a little too long, he finally followed after you, carrying out three more cups.

"Thank you, bartender". Ted smiled as you handed him one of the glasses. You liked Ted Nivison, not like you like Schlatt, but he's a good friend. You often wished you were closer, he seemed like the type of person to always be there for the people he cares for, you found him admirable.

Ludwig, and SwaggerSouls were additional guests, you'd met everyone prior, but weren't very familiar on a personal level. Swagger was just visiting from Australia for the time being, so it was rare for you to see one another, despite being relatively in the same friend circle. As for Ludwig, you'd hung out countless times, but only by association, you thought he was kind nonetheless. He even recently invited you to be on his next game show, which you're thoroughly excited for to say the least.

Schlatt made the mistake of allowing Ted to choose the movie you'd all be watching. He has a thing for laughably shitty, low budget movies, but thankfully you'd all be far too intoxicated to complain about it. After passing out the drinks Schlatt took a seat beside you on the couch. making sure to manspread a misogynistic amount, but on the bright side atleast his leg was against yours.

You were admittedly a lightweight, and apparently so was Ludwig, he hadn't even finished the first glass and was already hugging the wall on his journey to the bathroom. Everyone's focus was locked into the F-tier horror movie that somehow felt more like a comedy, well, everyone except for yours. You were personally far more interested in Schlatt's hands. You rolled your eyes at yourself, bitch, you're drooling over fingers right now, seriously? you mentally kink shamed yourself and tried to return to the plot, taking another sip of your grossly bitter beverage.

"you alright?" Schlatt leaned into your ear, the warmth from his whispers sending chills down your spine.

"Yeah of course, why wouldn't I be?"

"Probably because you've been staring down at my lap more than the television... I find it flattering, I really do, but c'mon sweetheart, atleast try to hide it". Despite knowing the pet names were only used to be condescending, a part of you still liked it, a little too much.

Regardless, you wanted to throw up, because even worse than catching you staring at his hands he thought you'd been eyeing his dick down for the past half-hour. Was it really that obvious? Fuck.

"God, for an alcoholic, you sure do get tipsy fast". You deflected, brushing his accusations off.

Gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss or whatever the fuck they say, but you honestly just needed the first G and for him to mind his business.

"Sure". He chuckled to himself. For the rest of the movie you stayed silent, and didn't dare glance back again, despite feeling the hole his eyes were burning through the side of your face.

Everyone left one by one after the movie, it was already late before the film, so by the time it came to a close, Ubers were already on the way. You were in Schlatt's kitchen alone, deciding to wash up the dishes everyone else had left behind, it's not like he deserved it, but you did anyways. Schlatt himself was likely still in the living room, hanging out and saying his goodbyes, you planned to slip out as soon as you'd completed cleaning.

"Why are you doing the dishes?" Schlatt laughed, something about it being a genuine, full on giggle pissed you off far more than the condescending, ego-ridden chuckle you were normally left with.

"Can you ever just say thank you like a normal person".

"Move over, let me finish up". He sighed, making his way behind you, absentmindedly grabbing your waist in order to maneuver you to the other side of the sink. You tensed up so hard you didn't even realize the ungodly, serpent level grip you had on the glass in your hand, leaving it to shatter straight into your palm.

"Fucking hell". He mumbled, sounding frustrated, but he quickly hopped into action, grabbing your wrist. You were too embarrassed to even process the burning pain of having glass shards sticking out of your hand, and remained quiet.

"C'mon, hurry up". Schlatt stated gently wrapping paper towels over your hand, hoping to to prevent leaving a trail of blood behind you. He nearly dragged you up the steps, not daring to release his overbearing, disappointed father-like grasp on your wrist. He brought you to the bathroom in his bedroom, sitting you down on the closed-lid toilet.

"You know, you've been acting especially strange tonight, Doll. What's wrong with you?" Even when he wants to be serious it's like something in his body won't let him, vulnerability was far from his comfort zone, but he genuinely was a bit worried he may have accidentally gone too far with a joke and upset you or something, he had a habit of doing that to his friends and he secretly resented himself for it.

Now it was your turn to laugh; "Mr. Schlatt asking me if i'm okay twice in one day? I think I should be the worried one".

"We're friends, you know". He grabbed tweezers and a first aid kit from under the sink, immediately playing surgeon simulator with your hand, and you just let him. You were too drunk to feel what he was doing, and besides, how often would you get to have Schlatt kneeling in front of you, doctoring you back to health.

You didn't know what to say, and the alcohol refused to let you feel any form of akwardness so you just continued to intently watch him work in silence, well, until your mouth decided to pull a fast one and speak before your brain had a chance to approve it.

"Schlatt".

"What?"

"You're really pretty". you giggled, mostly laughing at yourself. Being drunk is like being in a self driving vehicle, you see the family of four you're about to drive into, but you don't really have the wheel to do anything about it. Somehow you feel hitting the family of four would be less painful right now.

"And you're pretty fucking drunk".

"Says you".

"Yes, says me, now sit still before you make me drop the fucking glass".

"Yes sir".

He stopped in his tracks, glancing up at you for a second, meeting you with what felt like a scolding glare.

"God, somebody needs to fuck you already, so you can finally stop flirting with me".

"Oh please, you enjoy it too much, and besides, who's to say i'm not getting dicked down every weekend?"

"Well sweetheart, it's 2am on a saturday and you're still in my house". he thoroughly wrapped your hand with gauze, and you had to admit it did feel better without the glass in it.

"The night is still young, and i'm leaving anyways, thanks for your medical expertise, doc". you snickered at him, finding your way to your feet, even if you might've had to lean on the wall a tad for support. Meanwhile he stood at the sink, washing your blood off of his hands.

"You think i'd let you ride in an Uber alone, at two in the morning, while you're heavily intoxicated?"

"I think you don't have choice in the matter".

"Are you sure? because I know all i'd have to do is ask". He dried his hands with a fresh paper towel before balling it up, and tossing it in the waste basket.

"Why would I listen to you?" You asked, attempting to appear confident, but your pounding heart and shaky hands as he drew closer told a different story.

"See, that part I don't understand. I don't know why you do it, but I'm willing to bet every dollar in my goddamn bank account that you would".

"Maybe i'm just a good friend, you wouldn't know what that's like".

"A good friend my ass, a good friend doesn't make you adjust your fucking pants every time they look up at you. God, you stare at me all day with those eyes, and then try to play innocent like I cant tell what you're thinking about. Do you really think i'm that fucking dumb?"

His hand rested on the side of your neck, thumb rubbing soft circles on your jawline. You had a million different things you wanted to say, but suddenly your words decided they were done being a part of this conversation, and jumped ship, so instead you remained silent, mouth slightly agape at his sudden bluntness.

"I asked you a question, do you think i'm fucking dumb?" He continued, speaking softly, but with an intensity you'd never heard from him before. His tone was normally nonchalant or maybe condescending, but the words rolled off his tongue with... passion?

"No".

"You called me sir earlier, repeat that for me. No what?"

"No sir". you replied obediently, trying to focus on what he was actually saying instead of admiring the way he was looking so intently at you. Distracted by his golden brown eyes, and thick eyelashes that even you were jealous of. He was right, more than anything you wanted to please him.

"mmm that's it". he mumbled, running his fingers from your neck all the way to the base of your head, collecting a handful of hair before roughly pulling you into a kiss.

His kisses were rugged, there was no easing into it, you were surprised by how much he got off on sucking on your bottom lip and shoving his tongue in your mouth. you loved the way his lips felt on yours, the way he'd occasionally tug on your plump lips with his teeth. The gentle bites made you want to rip his clothes off, but to be fair what didn't?

Schlatt swirled his tongue around, sloppily sucking on yours just to hear the gorgeous sound

of your whimpers vibrate against his skin. "Is this what you want?" He hums through kisses.

You nod yes, but that isn't enough for him, he wants to hear you say it, hearing your voice is his favorite form of foreplay.

"Tell me". He whispered, breaking the kiss in order to bring you face to face, especially enjoying watching your pupils double in size as you trip over your shaky words.

"I want you".

"Oh but princess, that's not good enough, I need details, how about you start with telling me what you were thinking about earlier".

Your blush intensifies as a cold embarrassment washes over you once more, you try glancing at your feet, breaking his magnifying eye contact, but his hand steadies you instead.

"Eyes up here, don't make me repeat myself".

"I just think you have nice hands, it's nothing".

"Hm, just nothing?"

"I have a thing for them, I guess". You laughed at yourself lightly, hoping to ease the tension, but why would Schlatt ever let you do that. Miss out on a chance to see you squirm? Never.

"Oh yeah?" He mumbled, dragging his thumb your onto your soft lips, and without hesitation pushing it in. He slid back and forth against your slick tongue, pumping in and out, satisfied with the occasional gagging. Your breath hitched as his other hand found its way down the front of your pants. Upon reaching your sex, he forced his thumb further into your mouth. Holding it there for a second, he was deeply attracted to your eyes, and watching them gloss over with a thin layer of tears only made them prettier.

"Do I make you nervous?" He asked, his voice gravelly and low as he drew closer to your ear. Chills painted your skin upon feeling his tongue press into your neck, tracing wet circles before sucking on your sensitive skin. In a poor attempt to suppress your moans you wrapped your lips around his finger a little tighter.

"Don't hold back now, hun, you're already grinding on my hand for fucks sake. Now, tell me, is this what you like to daydream about? My big hands rubbing your pussy, making you feel so good you can barely stand, huh?" He cooed, pumping his middle finger inside of you, whilst using his thumb to rub increasingly fast circles over your swollen clit. you whined against his chest, laying your head on his sweater trying to maintain your balance despite your legs quivering uncontrollably.

"Wait I-". You tried speaking, but it was practically incoherent.

"Try again, Princess". He temporarily popped his thumb out of your mouth, giving you a better chance at finishing your sentence, although your voice remained winded and almost whiney with pleasure. When you opened your mouth to speak he only quickened his pace, clearly pleased with the torture he was putting you through.

"I can't, I- you're going to make me uhm- i can't, you have to stop. please". You stuttered out through needy pleas, nearly reaching your high shamefully quick.

To your surprise he did stop, immediately removing his sticky, coated fingers from inside you only to re-place the soaked digits onto your warm tongue, making you suck it clean with a pop as it exited your mouth.

The corner of his lips pulled into a teasing smirk, turning towards the doorway and walking into his room like nothing ever happened, he tossed his shirt and baseball cap across the room before plopping back onto his bed. He sighed like he'd just had a long day, leaning off the mattress to grab two items 1. a beer from the mini fridge adjacent to his nightstand 2. the remote from said nightstand. He flicked the TV on and opened youtube, meanwhile you were left looking shell shocked in the bathroom, considering pinching yourself just to see if you were dreaming or hallucinating right now. Drunk you was not one to question much, but what the fuck.

"Schlatt". you called out, standing in the doorframe, lustfully taking in his appearance. You'd never seen him with his shirt off previously, he wasn't the type of guy to strut around topless even in his own home, but right now he couldn't seem to care less. Black basketball shorts fell slightly below his hips, exposing the name brand elastic of his briefs, as well as an overgrown happy trail that lead straight into his equally hairy chest.

"Mhm?"

"I like you" .

As soon as the words came out you wished they didn't, especially not now of all times. This was the first time you've ever seen him look truly disgusted, it's like the man you were just speaking to and nearly fucking was gone, straight back into his usual cold, asshole self.

"What the fuck does that mean? Are we in middle school, the fuck do you mean you like me?" He seemed actually angry now, not just cold, he looked pissed. Schlatt sat up, just to make eye contact with you once more, but this time his eyes weren't lustful or affectionate, they were piercing, and tied together with knitted brows.

"I always have". You move further into the room, standing only a few feet from him now.

"I fingerfuck you once and suddenly you're in love? Listen, let's just forget about whatever this was". He sneered, dryly laughing to himself like you were in the middle of telling a bad joke.

"I didn't ask you to do any of that".

"Maybe not in so many words, but let's be fucking honest here...".

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You really have no shame, do you? What the fuck do you want from me, seriously, this is pathetic even for you. What? You want me to be your little boyfriend?"

Sure Schlatt was a dickhead all the time, but not like this, it was like he suddenly wanted to make you hurt as much as possible. Why did he despise you for caring, It wasn't fair. Your drunken heart ached, for some type of comfort, but you know that wouldn't happen. Everyone, even your friends would've laughed at you for looking to such a notorious asshole for comparison.

"No, I wouldn't want a boyfriend that treats me the way that you do".  You argued, voice barely above a whisper.

"Then why are you still standing here, you know where the guest room is".

"Why are you being so fucking mean?" You shot back, feeling tears sting at your eyes, although you refused to let them fall, forcing down the lump in your throat.

"I'm not, i'm being realistic. You don't like me, you want to fuck me, so save me the drama".

"I told you, I have always liked you, you talk about how obvious it is that i think about you all the time, but it's impossible to believe I care about you?"

"You don't".

"I do".

He stood up, moving in closer; "you don't, you're drunk, now get the fuck out before i carry you out". He said so lowly it was nearly a whisper, but his voice was sharp, demanding.

"You won't".

"Why won't I, Doll?"

"Because I know you don't mean it". You didn't really know shit, Schlatt was unpredictable.  You mentally pleaded with the universe, begging for him to not call your bluff.

"Like you said, i'm not even a decent friend, you can't be pissed at me for proving your point". He tossed, grabbing your upper arm in poor attempt to lead you to the door. You wouldn't accept it, you were already too far in, the situation was fucked, and damage control was out of the question, but you were drunk and wanted answers.

You yanked your arm away roughly, not caring about the sharp pain it sent down your arm to your freshly sliced and diced hand. "Why won't you just talk to me? Are you seriously that much of a fucking coward, you can't have a conversation involving emotions for two seconds!" This time your voice was strong, and loud, you didn't care if he had feelings for you, at this point all you wanted was to be heard.

Finally, his voice softened, he looked down at you feeling somehow defeated, releasing a prolonged sigh. "I can't be your boyfriend".

"I know".

"Then why are you making this so fucking hard for me?"

"because I love you, I won't go".

His mouth fell agape, there was a moment of stillness between you two, all you could hear was your shaky, uncertain breaths. You didn't know how to gauge his expression, and weren't sure you even wanted to. You'd dug yourself into a hole so deep you hoped you'd atleast hit six feet so you could toss yourself in after.

"Again". He demanded.

"I love you".

The silence seemed to stretch on forever, despite it only being a couple seconds before his arms engulfed you. You experienced immediate relief, falling into his grasp, allowing him to pull you into a hug that was slightly too tight, but you didn't care, locking your arms around his torso

"Stay with me". He whispered.

You nodded, unopposed as he carried you to his bed, laying on top of you, he pressed his ear against your heartbeat for a second, before hovering over your body, once again seemingly analyzing you. You'd never hear him admit it, even to himself, but he was more afraid to speak than you were.

"What?" You asked softly.

"You're too sweet to me".

You shook your head in opposition with a gentle laugh, you didn't see it like that, but you also didn't feel the way guilt constantly sat on his chest, he was sure one day it would suffocate him.

"I've always adored you". He admitted, and pretended to not feel his heart frantically tapping at his ribcage.

Kiss me more?"

He nodded, caressing your face with one hand, propping himself up with the other. His kisses were soft pecks this time, slowly pressing his lips against yours with fine precision .

"Do you like it better when i'm gentle with you?"

"I like anyway you touch me, I just want to make you happy, Schlatt".

"What makes me happy is hearing how bad you want me, I love the way you crave me".

"I want you to touch me again, but this time, don't stop?"

Without another word he pulled your top over your head and swiftly removed your pants soon after. Schlatt moved his body against yours as he leaned in, returning to your lips. He held himself back, wanting this so badly, but being afraid to ruin it. He wished he knew how to be softer, you were braver than he was, he envied that.

"I'm sorry". Whispering through the kiss, he repeated those same words as he trailed down your exposed chest. "Is this okay?" He asked, words tickling against your inner thighs as he kissed each one.

"Yes please".

Your consent was all he needed to hear, you wouldn't have to ever plead with him anymore.

He was determined to finish where he left off, leaving you shaking under his grasp. His tongue lapped at your clit, beginning softly before he worked his way into sucking on all your sensitive spots. Your back arched in every which way as your nails dug into his navy blue sheets. This time around you were in fact shameless, not holding back a single sound, every exhale was hummed with pleasured cries.

"Talk to me, pretty girl, i want to hear your voice, tell me what you were thinking about when we were watching the movie, what made you have to squeeze your thighs together. tell me please, baby".

"I-I think about your fingers inside me a lot, I always wanted to feel your pretty hands touching me everywhere". You poorly attempt to get the sentence out, but he only finds the way you're struggling hotter. He loves to hear the way your voice changes tone whenever he fucks his tongue into your tight pussy.

"Do you touch yourself thinking about me?"

"Yes sir".

"You're such a perfect little slut for me, I want to see you cum with my tongue fucking you".

It didn't take long to fulfill his request, he gripped both of your hips bouncing you against his face. You cried out as he so easily brought you to your peak again; "please". you whined, unsure of what you were even asking for, whatever he was doing felt so good you were almost certain your brain had begun to melt.

"Be a good girl and cum for me". Was the thing that sent you over the edge, you moaned loudly, bucking your hips at the intense overstimulation. The drunken orgasm made your head buzz as you felt your cunt throbbing against his touch. Once you finally caught your breath and regained total vision you looked down and blushed at the sight of his soaked face, you squirted so much that even the mutton chops were drenched. oops.

"Such a sensitive girl, you're so easy for me". He grinned, swiping your juices off his chin with the back of his hand. You were already overly intoxicated, sweaty, and exhausted, but not more than you were horny and determined. "Will you finally fuck me, please?" you begged, making him chuckle, this time he wasn't laughing at you per say, but instead your resilience.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive, only thing I think about more than your fingers is you fucking me until I can't take it anymore, I want to feel you deep".

He responds initially with more sloppy kisses, tasting yourself on his tongue; "I don't want to hurt you".

"Do it anyways, please. Fuck me like you're as mean as you pretend to be".

Remember when I said you'd never have to plead for anything ever again?

If you want it, he needs it. He didn't know where the feeling came from, but the urge to please you was incredibly strong, it was like he wanted to show how good he could be to you physically, since he had no clue how to say it.

he pulled the rest of his clothes off quickly, aligning himself with your slit, his body shuttered as he traced your warmth. "Count to three for me, sweetheart, and remember this is what you asked for". His voice was husky and full of lust, he craved you just as much as you did him.

"three... two...". you sighed, but before you could reach one he pushed into your entrance, as deep as he possibly could before reaching a halt at your cervix. you inhaled sharply and exhaled in a pornographic sounding gasp, the mix of intense pain and pleasure was more intoxicating than the whiskey.

He grunted in ecstasy upon finally getting to feel your walls tighten around him. Schlatt fucked into you with intention, making sure to fill you entirely with every stroke. He groaned into your collar bone, occasionally sucking purple bruises onto your neck.

You whimpered, subconsciously pressing your hand against his stomach in attempt to slow his pace even slightly, but he grabbed your wrist, pinning it near your side, using his other one to grip into your hipbone, revoking the last of your wiggle room. "Sit still, there's no use in crying now, slut. It's too fucking late for that, you already told me how you like to be abused, I bet you're already close again just from the way I pin you down, Is that right, baby?"

"Y-you're so big". Is all you could manage, going limp under his strength, you were running out of energy to fight back, until eventually you melted into the pain, having no other choice but to keep taking his unforgiving strokes.

Your eyes involuntarily rolled back in your head, overstimulated by the intense tingling in your core. Schlatt grabbed your head, squishing your cheeks in his hand, and fixing your attention to the  view between your thighs.

"Eyes open, you look at me when i'm fucking you". He finally slowed his pace a bit, but never wavered in depth. He balanced his focus between your pretty, blushed face, and your cute tits, watching them bounce rhythmically as he pounded into you.

"Yes sir, you fuck me so good".

"Mhm I know I do, princess. You're all mine, nobody gets to touch you but me".

"Nobody but you".

"Tell me you love me again, sweetheart". Looking into your eyes, he propped his arm above your shoulder; shaky palm pressed into the mattress, while the other remained secure on your hip. His finger tips were sure to leave behind reddish, bruised prints sprinkled along your side, but you didn't mind. Schlatt's voice was raspier than normal, the desperation began to reflect in his tone, his once precise thrusts became sloppy, needy even.

"I love you, I don't want anyone but you". You affirmed, taking his face within your own hands, gently cupping either side.

"Again, don't stop"

Your mind and body both felt like they were spinning, and all logic as well as dignity had long left you behind. You didn't care if you were making a mistake, you were far too enthralled by his attention.

"I love you, i love you, i love y-". you panted, gushing your secret into lewd confessions. Your body stirred once again with that familiar heat in your stomach, beckoning for the feeling to overwhelm you. You submitted everything to him, affection pouring off your tongue until you gave out, your body became rigid, tense with pleasure as you pulled him closer, locking your legs around his waist, but that only caused him to thrust harder, grunting with every deep stroke.

He crashed into your lips, trying to distract himself from how quickly you had him this worked up, but it was all too much. You gripped around him caused a wet suctioning sound everytime he pulled out. He wanted to watch you cum on him again and again, but admittedly he couldn't handle anymore, your praise fueled him in an almost animalistic way.

"Mhm that's it, Doll...fuck".

Your body tingled all over, coming down from your high, being close to him felt like a dream. His lips on yours alone sent shockwaves through your body, especially with the combination of his low moans vibrating against your skin.

You noticed his strokes becoming achingly slow, he was very clearly closer than he cared to admit. You decided to take matters into your own hands,  he loosened the pressure of  his grasp on your hip, accidentally inviting you to grind yourself against him, sending chills up your own spine as his rough pubic hair brushed against your hypersensitive area.

"What did I tell you about sitting still?" 

"I want to make you cum, please".

"Shhh". He cooed, trying to ignore the way his dick twitched inside everytime you spoke.

"Please, I need you".

As the words fell from your lips, his involuntary groans echoed against your mouth. Schlatt tried hard to continue the kiss, wanting as much of you as possible when he finally bottomed out. His grasp tightened as his dick spilled inside of you, painting every last square inch with sticky cum.

Schlatt cursed under his breath, allowing himself to collapse on top of you, resting his head on your hickey-scattered collar bone, until he could catch his breath. You found yourself running your fingers through his slightly damp hair, which he didn't seem to mind.

"Am I crushing you?" His question caught you off guard, expecting to be scolded for going against his demands, but instead you were met with gentle consideration.

"No, of course not". you smiled, although nothing was funny it formed into a laugh.

"Good". He proceeded to plant a gentle kiss on your cheek, before sitting up anyways, dangling his legs off the side of the bed, running a hand through his hair in attempt to eliminate the rogue strands that insisted on falling in his face.

"Hm, I really didn't know I had that kind of effect on you". You couldn't help but tease him a bit, you did just confess your borderline obsession to him, so it was only fair.

"You're a pain in the ass".

"Coming from you? God, I must be the worst!"

"You are". Without hesitation he hoisted you up like a rag doll, placing you face to face on his lap. His hands snaked around your bare waist, finding himself admiring your every feature.

"Whatever you say, Schlatt".

You smiled at each other, not saying much as you straddled his lap, just soaking in each other's presence. Yawning, you leaned your head into the crook of his neck, arms draped around him for support. He sighed, drawing on your back with his rough fingertips; "Let's get you cleaned up, sweetheart". 

You nodded against him, allowing him to carry you back into the bathroom. You took a hot shower together, Schlatt insisted on washing your body for you with the excuse of your injured hand (it wasn't even your dominant one), but you didn't complain. He carefully massaged soapy shower gel into your tense shoulders, taking his time with every bit of you.

He rewrapped your wounds with fresh gauze, placing a gentle peck over it. Plenty more teasing, kisses, and new bedsheets later you were finally ready to call it a night. You fell asleep with your back to his chest, his large arms wrapped around your midsection. You felt safe in this moment, and despite Schlatt's grumbly snores, you got some of the best sleep you had in months.