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ghostlysmut · 3 years ago

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𝑜𝑏𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑒

SUMMARY | after losing himself to his jealousy and making a scene at your high school reunion, schlatt gets himself back into your good graces the only way he knows how; through his actions.

PAIRING | jschlatt x reader

REQUESTED | yes

WARNINGS | nsfw, 18+

WORD COUNT | 7.7k

NOTES FROM THE AUTHOR | this is the first fic i've written since late last year so i might be a bit rusty since i also am not a native english speaker. this is also my first time ever writing schlatt and i will admit that i'm not as sure on his personality as i am other members of the mcyt, so i apologize if my portrayal of him is weird. not proofread, so apologies in advance for any possible mistakes. please let me know what you think.

🦋 MASTERLIST 🦋 NAVIGATION 🦋 RULES 🦋

Being in a relationship with Johnathan Schlatt had been a wild ride all the way from the very beginning; of that much you were, and always had been, certain. And yet, despite being fully aware of and used to his ways of behaviour, it seemingly never failed to surprise you when he actively went out of his way to go against you.

It also never failed to frustrate you to absolutely no end, and as you stood before him in your shared living room on this late Friday afternoon, you had to use all the self-restraint that you possessed in order to not blow up on him.

But while you were managing – although very barely – to keep it together enough to not start a screaming match, the glare you had set on your boyfriend of some time now was hard and unwavering, the fists you had clenched and hidden away underneath your snugly crossed arms tense and tight.

Schlatt, on the other hand, was barely acknowledging your existence, sitting slouched down in the couch you’d had to buy only a week prior as a result of a certain someone having broken your old one during one of his chaotic streams, with his eyes plastered to the television and his feet carelessly thrown on top of the coffee table in front of him, with a half-full bottle of beer lazily hanging from his hand over the armrest.

You waited another half minute for him to acknowledge you, gave him an honest chance to stop this episode of his all too frequent and familiar child-like behaviour before it got out of hand. But, as you had already expected, he only continued to ignore you, because going against your wishes whether they were verbal or silent, was what he seemed to do best.

Realizing you weren’t going to get much out of him by simply glaring, you cleared your throat in an attempt to catch his attention. Still getting nothing, the glare on you face only hardened.

“Please tell me you’re not wearing that tonight.” You finally spoke, and finally, he turned his head away from the television to meet your expectant stare.

He wasn’t even trying to pretend that he hadn’t seen you there, making it painfully obvious that he had just been ignoring you.

“What’s wrong with this?” He asked simply, with little to no emotion behind his voice, as he motioned with the beer bottle toward his torso.

It took everything you had in you not to take the bottle and just, smash it over his head, right then and there, and to instead take a slow breath.

“It’s offensive, and inappropriate.” You replied, and watched as Schlatt’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, as if he didn’t know what you were talking about. But the small, almost invisible, tug of his lips told you otherwise, and so did your common sense.

You didn’t know anyone who would’ve considered his shirt appropriate to wear in a public setting, the shirt in question portraying a nun wearing nothing but her headpiece and adorning a suggestive stare, with her bare and very full chest on complete display to the viewer, a multitude of satanic symbols scribbled around the image in big, bold, red lines, and the letters “show me your tits” lining the upper edge of the print.

It was one of the many shirts you had banned your boyfriend from wearing anywhere other than at home, and you were sure that was the sole reason he had decided to wear it on this night in particular, to begin with, on which he knew you were attending your high school reunion.

To say that it was something he hadn’t been looking forward to would be a big understatement.

He had met your high school acquaintances no more than once prior to this day, when you had been visiting your hometown for Christmas the year before, and that one time had been plenty enough for him.

To put it shortly, they were all spoiled, entitled assholes who thought the entire world revolved around them and their minor, petty problems. His words, not yours.

You didn’t necessarily disagree, but you still possessed enough maturity not to express your opinions aloud. Your boyfriend, however, was an entirely different story.

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to stay home, then. Sucks to be me.”

You automatically rolled your eyes at his sarcastic retort and uncrossed your arms from over your chest.

“Is everything a joke to you?” You asked, continuing, “You know how important this is to me and you promised you’d go with me.”

“I’m not getting dressed up for those plutocrats.” Schlatt only grumbled under his breath and lazily took a swig from his beer.

“Okay, you don’t have to.” You said and lightly shrugged your shoulders. “Get dressed up for me instead.” You continued, meeting his eyes once they flickered back over to yours.

You held each other’s gazes for a few seconds, stubborn and displeased battling fiercely against pleading and determined. Eventually, the latter ended up bringing home the win, much to your satisfaction and your boyfriend’s dismay.

With another displeased mutter, Schlatt brought his legs down from the coffee table and leaned forward in his seat. He put the bottle that was now almost empty down on the wooden surface, shut off the television and stood up, wordlessly passing by you were you stood and heading straight into your shared bedroom.

You could faintly make out the sound of his wardrobe opening and closing, and then the faucet of the sink being turned on in the bathroom. Silence followed for another two or so minutes, before your boyfriend remerged and joined you where you stood.

“Is that asshole Dexter going to be there?” He asked you once he had come to a stop in front of you, looking straight ahead as you started working on straightening the collar of the patterned button-up he was now wearing.

You raised an eyebrow at his question.

“I would guess so, seeing as we went to school together.” You deadpanned.

The glare you had previously been wearing was gone at this point, now having been replaced by a neutral expression.

The same couldn’t be said for your boyfriend, who was still sulking away like a child where he stood.

“Yeah, well, I guess I don’t have much of a choice then, do I?” He muttered, and you rolled your eyes, taking his hand in yours and intertwining your fingers as you left the warmth of your apartment to head outside.

🦋 °○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○ 🦋 °○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○ 🦋

An hour and a half later, you were passing by the big welcoming sign at the border of your hometown and yet another five minutes later, you were pulling up outside your old high school, outside which the parking lot was already crowded with cars of all shapes, colours and sizes.

Due to already being late, much thanks to your boyfriend, you didn’t waste any time in getting out of the car and heading towards the building once you were parked.

You could hear the music before you even got to the door, and the louder and closer it got, the more bitter the man at your side seemed to become.

“Dexter.” He was muttering under his breath, the name sounding like an insult falling off of his tongue.

“Who even name their kid that, anyway?” He continued, this time directing the question at you. “That name is reserved for dogs and serial killers, not people.”

You rolled your eyes at the comment, but couldn’t hold back the small snort that slipped past your lips.

“Play nice, please.” You replied with a nudge to his side and grabbed his hand once again.

The last thing you heard before you opened the large doors, stepped inside and became overthrown by the overpowering sound of music and chatter, was him muttering under his breath that he wouldn’t make any promises.

Come to turn out, if he had promised you that he would play nice, he would’ve ended up breaking that vow fairly quickly, either way. Half an hour into it, to be exact.

The only other person he could tolerate at this god-forsaken party was your best friend, who seemed to have slipped off to an unknown location and, by doing so, left him to fend for himself with people he’d either met once and decided he didn’t like, or people he hadn’t met at all.

Safe to say, neither of the two were very ideal.

You had stuck by his side for the first twenty or so minutes, introducing him to everyone and catching up with those you had been friendly with during your high school years. Schlatt had done his part of playing the comedic and talkative boyfriend, admittedly not wanting to ruin the experience for you despite how he felt about it, himself.

But a man could only take so much involuntary socializing, and while it had been manageable when you had still been glued to his side with your hand tightly woven together with his own, it was much less tolerable when you weren’t there and some chick who he had never met in his entire life was talking his ear off about something he couldn’t have cared less about.

So, his eyes searched the room, looking first toward the snack table which had been your supposed destination back when you had first left him by his lonesome, and found no trace of you.

He wasn’t very surprised about it, having learned very early into your relationship that you had a somewhat inconvenient tendency to stray as a result of getting distracted between point A and point B.

That very tendency was the sole reason he had sworn never to visit Disneyland with you again.

He had never slept for as long as he had after getting home from that trip, never been so exhausted, and now it would seem that you had done the exact same thing, seeing as you weren’t anywhere near where you’d told him you were heading off to.

Instead, after a moment of searching the crowd for the one face he never got tired of seeing, he finally found you on the complete other side of the room, and the second his eyes registered who you had been so occupied talking to for the past ten minutes, the entirety of his focus was shifted onto you.

Schlatt wasn’t normally the type to get jealous. Not because he wasn’t insecure or didn’t know that you deserved better - because he definitely was, and you definitely did – but because he knew that you were the most honest person in his life, and he knew where the two of you stood with each other.

But when it came to this guy, he just couldn’t help it. It was the one person except for your best friend who he had met on more than one occasion - and let me tell you, he had hated every second of it.

Dexter. The one name that could make him see red with the mere mention of it, the name that shouldn’t even exist beyond the infamous, fictional serial killer and maybe a dog or two.

But it did exist, it was very real, and so was the person to whom it had been given, and the feelings said person brought Schlatt, who had instantly been overflooded by red hot jealousy in his chest, uncomfortable tingling in his hands and feet, and a tang so sour in his mouth that his lips turned down at the taste of it.

He just couldn’t help it.

You had been with this guy for most of your life in one way or another. Childhood best friends turned high school sweethearts, voted school’s cutest couple three years in a row, and most likely to get married. You had been each other's firsts, and you had planned to build a life together.

The only reason you had broken off your relationship was because you ended up moving to a different state, and he wasn’t willing to leave your hometown to follow.

There hadn’t been any relationship problems, no major disagreements or incompatibilities, no big drama or any ugly fights, and most importantly; no lack of attraction.

You had still been attracted to him both physically and emotionally at the time of your breakup, and it was probably that part that bothered him the most; knowing that, had the circumstances been just slightly different, you could’ve still been with this guy instead of him.

It made him feel threatened, and it didn’t help to watch you laugh at his jokes and stare at him with the amount of nostalgic admiration that you did as you took a trip down memory lane with each other, all while Schlatt sat and watched.

He wasn’t sure what he was thinking when he stood up and made a beeline for where you were standing, or if he was thinking at all which, let’s be honest, he already knew that he wasn’t. S

afe to say, his mind had already been relatively empty when he had first gotten out of his seat and started moving, but it wasn’t until he was halfway there and watched from afar as you turned your back to your ex-boyfriend and allowed him to touch your hair and back, that Schlatt’s mind really went blank.

The speed in his step increased significantly and before he knew it, before he had even gotten to remove his hands from your body and as soon as he found himself within hearing range, he heard his own voice cut out through the music,

“How about you get your hands off of my girlfriend?”

He came to a stop right in front of the two of you, with a glare hard enough to kill etched onto his face as he reached his hand out and firmly grasped the wrist of his rival.

Only then did the two of you realize your boyfriend had joined you, not having been given much time to register it by yourselves with the way he had immediately gone to attack.

Dexter's eyes grew wide, at first out of shock, and then out of mildly annoyed bewilderment.

“Excuse me?” He near-spat and janked his hand back to himself.

He took a step back to put some distance between the two of them and Schlatt immediately responded by stepping closer to you, gluing himself to your side and sliding an arm snugly around your waist.

“It’s fine. You remember Dexter, right?” You moved into your boyfriend’s side and attempted to soothe his very obvious anger, but to no avail.

“Yeah, I remember him, alright.” Schlatt’s eyes didn’t waver from the other man for as much as a millisecond.

It wasn’t hard for the other man to pick up on the hostile change of environment.

“I was just helping her untangle her hair from the zipper of her dress, man.” He joined you in trying to salvage the situation, but he wasn’t as skilled in hiding his annoyance as you were – a skill you had picked up thanks to your boyfriend, to begin with – and the boyfriend in question only took that as a further threat.

“Well, thank you for your service, but that’s what she has me for.” He sarcastically replied, his voice dripping with venom, before he turned to you and continued with a stern glare, “Grab your coat, we’re going home.”

A crease formed between your brows as they furrowed. “What? We just got here.” Your annoyance was starting to seep through, and he immediately noticed judging by the way his gaze only hardened.

“And now we’re leaving.” He repeated, drawing an unimpressed scoff from your lips.

“You can’t be serious right now.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“As serious as I’ve ever been.” He didn’t miss a beat.

You narrowed your eyes and shook your head. “I’m not going anywhere- hey, what’s wrong with you?!” You interrupted yourself mid-sentence when he suddenly took you by your shoulders and turned you around.

He began to steer you in the direction of your coats while you verbally protested, but before you could get very far, a firm hand had placed itself on his own shoulder.

“Hey, don’t touch her!” Dexter demanded and squeezed down on his shoulder.

Displeased was no longer sufficient in describing how Schlatt was feeling as he stopped in his tracks and turned back around to get rid of the hand.

Two pairs of equally as annoyed eyes met.

“Excuse me? Do I need your permission to touch my girlfriend?”

“No, but you do need hers, and I’m pretty sure we both heard her say no.”

Schlatt raised his eyebrows, shooting out a deadpan stare.

“Is this your relationship? Your girlfriend? No? Then butt out, asshole.” He turned back to you, once again portraying determination in everything he did as he ordered you once again to, “Stop arguing and get your fucking coat.”

Your eyes didn’t falter from those of your boyfriend’s as they narrowed into angry slits. You started up to fight back, like you had so many times before, but before you could even get a word in edgewise to defend yourself, you were once again cut off, this time by Dexter.

“Do you always speak for her like this?” He asked your boyfriend. “That’s kind of problematic, don’t you think?”

Schlatt stood his ground, once again raising his eyebrows in a challenging manner as he retorted, “Oh, I’m sorry, are you not doing the exact same thing, right now?”

Dexter opened his mouth to speak once more, and that’s when you’d had enough.

“Okay, fine, you know what? I'm actually very tired, and we’re going to go home.”

You took a firm grip of your boyfriend’s hand and pinched the flesh of his palm, knowing how much he hated it when you did it. As expected, he immediately attempted to silently fight you off with his own fingers and, much to your dismay, managed to do so.

You didn’t bother trying again, proceeding to instead ignore him to turn back to your friend.

“I’m so sorry, Dex. I’ll call you later, okay? We’ll have to continue that conversation over coffee someday.” You offered him an apologetic smile and he nodded, the glare on his face slowly but surely being replaced by a smile of his own.

“Yeah, that’s probably best.” He nodded. His smile took a bit of a worried turn as he continued, “Just, give me a call if you need anything, okay? I’m always available for you if you need anything, and I mean anything-”

He cut himself off and discretely looked between you and the man at your side, and you nodded before the man in question could use it to fire the argument back up.

“Yeah, I know, and I appreciate it. But I’m good, thank you.” You assured him and, after another few seconds of hesitation, he seemed to relax as his eyes settled on you.

“Okay, good. Well, I guess I’ll see you around. It was good seeing you again, it’s been far too long since last.”

He leaned down and kissed your cheek as you said your final goodbyes, all while maintaining eye contact with Schlatt over your shoulder, who unbecknownst to you was about ready to pounce any second now.

Luckily for everyone present in that room, many of whom had been pulled by their previous conversations by your argument, it didn’t get any further than that, as the two of you wordlessly went and got your things and left the building with rash, hurried steps.

The second you got had gotten situated in the car and the key was turned in the ignition, you spoke sternly without taking your eyes off the road in front of you, “We’re talking about this the second we get home.”

Schlatt kept his eyes straight ahead of him, as well, and snapped out an equally as hostile, “Can’t wait”, before pressing down on the gas, driving out of the school’s parking lot and turning down the road.

🦋 °○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○ 🦋 °○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○ 🦋

The car ride home might have been wordless, with not a single sound uttered from either of you to the other, but the air in the car was everything but silent. The atmosphere had been so tense with emotions that it made both your ears ring, painfully and seemingly endlessly, with anger; yours directed at him and his fragile ego, and his directed at his you and your ex-boyfriend.

As soon as you came to a stop and parked outside your apartment complex, it was like you entered an unspoken competition where both of you did everything you could to show the other how mad you were.

Doors were slammed, stairs were stomped, and curses were thrown carelessly and harshly into the innocent air every time you messed something up as a result of your harsh, jagged and anger-shaken movements.

The second you had shut the front door behind you and twisted the lock, the bubble of temporary peace that you had managed to maintain up until then ruptured in a matter of seconds, and so the arguing began.

“I can’t fucking believe you.” You were the first to speak up with disgust and embarrassment dripping from every uttered word as you angrily yanked off your scarf and jacket and threw them on the coat hanger.

“I can’t believe you!” He shot back with just as much distain while throwing off his shoes, hard enough for them to bounce across the floor and dunk into the wall in front of them.

“What the hell did I do?!” You whipped around to face him and yelled.

In response, his eyes narrowed. “You’re asking me that after you just let your ex feel you up right in front of me?”

“I- feel me up?” If only looks had been able to kill, your boyfriend would have been sent six feet under on the spot, right then and there. “Are you serious right now? I was having a conversation with a friend! A con-ver-sation, with a friend! I wasn’t aware that went against the very laws of a relationship!”

“It wouldn’t have if it weren’t for the embarrassingly obvious fact that the asshole is still head over heels in love with you, but it is what it is, so tough fucking shit!”

“So, what if he is?! How he feels about me does absolutely nothing to change how I feel about you! Literally the only thing that is changing the light in which I see you right now is your own fucking behaviour. I mean, what the fuck has gotten into you?! You never get like this! You watch other guys flirt with me all the time and you mock and laugh at them because you know that they’re trying in vain, so why is this one guy so different?!”

“Because he’s an asshole who doesn’t respect that you’re in a relationship!”

“And you’re not an asshole?!”

“Well, at least I’m not shamelessly throwing myself at my ex!”

You stilled where you stood and hardened your face, having had more than enough of the crap he was unfairly putting you through.

“Fine, if that’s how you want to be then you can sleep on the fucking couch. I don’t even want to look at you right now.” You shook your head in disgust and turned on your heel, heading in the direction of your bedroom.

“Fine, I will!” He snapped behind you as he audibly followed.

“Fine.” You repeated, this time lower than the last.

Once again, he snapped out with a fierceness significantly more intense than your own, “Fine!”

As you entered your bedroom and, while still standing in the doorway with your back turned to him, reached your hand out for the bed, you spoke one last time, “Fine. Take your fucking pillow, too.”

The pillow in questioned hit him square in the face before he got the time to react, and before he got to utter another word to you, you had slammed the bedroom door in his face and shut yourself into the bedroom.

You stood silently on the other side of the door and listened, being met with a few seconds of silence and then the sound of his retreating footsteps.

You heard him turn on the television no more than a second later and the mere sound of it was enough to infuriate you even further. Your entire body felt hot, your blood felt as if it was boiling and about to erupt with the way that it was pumping in your veins.

You wanted nothing more than to go back out there and just scream at him until he was so far pushed into the ground that you couldn’t see him anymore but before you could do that or anything else that you knew you’d later come to regret, you blocked out the sound of his stupid house renovation program and stomped your way into the bathroom, getting started on your night routine all while muttering profanities and angry ramblings under your breath to yourself.

Acting out everything you wanted to say to the various toiletries stored in your bathroom wasn’t quiet as efficient as you imagined it would have been to act it out to the very source of your frustration and wasn’t even nearly enough to rid you of your anger completely. But it did do the trick well enough to stop you from throwing fuel to the fire once you had completed your bedtime rituals and gotten back into your bedroom, beyond which you could still hear the sound of the television.

You noticed quickly that the volume had been increased significantly from when he had first put it on, no doubt in an attempt from his side to get you to react. You knew that, for him, a negative reaction was better than no reaction at all, and that was one of the very few things about him that you wished, just, wasn’t. All it did was make it your responsibility to be the bigger person in an argument, and sometimes you really wanted, needed, to be the smaller one.

But you wouldn’t let yourself be this time around, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction by reacting, so rather than acting on his attempt to provoke, you simply picked your phone up from where it laid on your bedside table and annoyedly typed in a text, locking it and putting it back down as soon as you heard the whooshing sound that confirmed that the text had been sent.

Not even a second later, you heard the familiar ding of your boyfriend’s phone, and you listened as he shuffled around in the couch in the other room, the leather creaking under his weight and the wooden structure squeaking ever so slightly. The downside of buying a second-hand couch, you supposed.

Not many seconds passed before your phone dinged to signal you had received a reply. You didn’t move a muscle, made no attempt to read what he had written you back. Instead you just laid there, turned to the side with your hands tucked under your head and your eyes staring into the wall in front of you.

And you waited.

And waited, and waited, and-

The loud voices from the television suddenly grew silent, as did the entire apartment. The voices were soon enough replaced by the sound of incoming footsteps and, before you knew it, the door to the bedroom was pushed open.

A second later, a gust of air hit your partly bare back where your blanket had slipped down, accompanied by a muffled thump as the pillow you had thrown out of the room only minutes before was thrown back to where it belonged.

A weight was added behind you to the other side of the bed, followed shortly by the sound of your boyfriend’s voice.

“I’m not sleeping on the couch, it’s fucking uncomfortable.” He complained bitterly, and began making himself comfortable behind you.

You knew that he couldn’t see your face at the position you were laying in, but you still couldn’t stop yourself from raising your eyebrows as to say I told you so, and you were just too proud not to let him hear it, supporting your hidden expression by muttering back, “I told you so, but you still insisted on buying it.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I ought to listen to my beautiful girlfriend more often. She’s clearly got more brains than I do.” He wasted no time in shooting back, just as proud as you judging by how desperately he was trying to hold on to the tough-guy act he had adapted during the course of your argument.

But you could hear it in his voice that he was faltering, that he was aware of it, and very, very disgruntled about it, and that very fact was enough to bring a light scoff from your lips.

“Is that your way of apologizing?” You deadpanned simply, not moving where you laid even as he crept up behind you.

He could clearly tell that you weren’t impressed, judging by the way his arms slowly and hesitantly wrapped around your middle atop the blanket no more than a second later.

You were still mad at him for taking his jealousy out on you and ruining your experience by doing so, and even more annoyed by the fact that he couldn’t own up to his bad behaviour instead of just buttering his way back into your good graces.

And yet, even though he opted for the latter and less preferable option out of the two and annoyed you to absolute bits, you did nothing to stop him when he pressed a kiss to your exposed shoulder and started to rub slow, gentle circles on your arm.

You never could stop him when it happened, because no matter how much you hated to admit it about yourself, both of you would fall at each other’s feet whenever you’d give the other any kind of physical affection.

And so, when he began moving his lips along the length of your neck, his facial hair scratching the sensitive skin with every move, you wordlessly turned around to face him and made no complaints when he met you in the middle for a kiss.

It started out slow, with him carefully testing the waters and attempting to urge you on with his actions while you remained the slightest bit grudging; not because you didn’t want to give in, but because you wanted to prove a point and for him to know that you were still pissed and that he wasn’t forgiven.

You realized quickly, though, that he already knew all of those things. He must have, or else he wouldn’t have remained silent the way that he currently was, most likely too scared about the possibility of pissing you off even further and, as if the couch hadn’t been bad enough, landing himself a permanent sleeping spot out on the street.

He knew you wouldn’t hesitate if it came to it, and as he’d rather not sleep in his car, he knew that he had to get back into your good graces as quickly as possible, and so far, you didn’t seem to be against his chosen way of doing so with the way you were moving closer and closer to him.

Your blanket slipped off your form as you did so, your lightly clothed body instinctively shifting into a sitting position and your hands, that had now found their way to the sides of your boyfriend’s jaw, pulling him along with you.

Without breaking away from each other, you shifted onto your knees. You gave him a moment to follow your move and pull his back up to the headboard of the bed, before slowly raising your leg over his and sitting down on his thighs.

“You’re infuriating, you know that?” You were the first one to speak once you were properly situated on top of him, your voice coming out muffled against the rapidly increasing urgency of his lips.

“Yeah, and you’re just such a delight.” He simply uttered back against your own.

His big hands found their way to the sides of your thighs where they gripped at the flesh. Such a small touch, and yet it was enough to bring a tingle to your core and draw the smallest of moans from your lips.

Schlatt swallowed the sweet sound with his kiss and reciprocated it with a groan of his own when your hand passed by the waistband of his shorts and grazed over the hardening tent in his boxers.

“God, I love you.” He mumbled against your lips as a response to your touch.

“You’re not going to sweet talk yourself out of this one. I’m still mad at you and will continue to be until you apologize to Dexter.” You fired back in return, but couldn’t deny to feeling the smallest bit amused about his contradicting statements.

Schlatt, on the other hand, wasn’t the slightest bit amused.

“Could you, maybe, not bring him up while you’ve got your hand down my pants?”

You didn’t need to look at each other for you to know that he was glaring at you in his head, as was only further proven by the tone of his voice as he grumbled.

All of the sudden, you found yourself no longer minding the jealousy that he was expressing. You would never admit aloud to knowing why you’d had the sudden change of heart, but it just might have had something to do with the constant surges of pleasure that were being sent to straight between your legs at the feeling of his hands roaming your body and squeezing at everything they could get ahold of.

“Why? Does it bother you?”

As a response to the request he had given you only some seconds before, the teasing words rolled off your tongue before you’d even been able to register them in your head.

You had to bite down on your lip to keep control of your mind, and instinctively brought your arms up to wrap around his neck, your fingers weaving themselves into his long hair in an attempt to bring him even closer, if such a thing was even possible.

Your words made him react the way you would have expected them to, the energy radiating off of him and his movements getting slightly more frustrated.

“What do you think?” He muttered back, his hands sliding past the curve of your hips and continuing up your sides.

You hummed to yourself, the warmth and tenderness of his hands leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. You responded to his advances accordingly, proceeding to press your hand down against his crotch before clenching your fist in a firm grasp around the very source of his arousal.

The speed of his heart increased significantly, and he seemed to no longer find himself capable of concentrating on kissing as you continued to rub him through his underwear with torturously slow movements.

The tips of your fingers became damp along with the fabric underneath them as his arousal leaked through and into your touch.

It never failed to rile you up to see how quickly you could have him a mess with little to no effort, the sensitive bundle of nerves between your thighs beginning to throb as his head fell down into the crook of your neck and his entire body seemed to melt into putty.

His hips raised ever so lightly into your hand, and you responded immediately by pressing down with more pressure. In return, he grew even hungrier, beginning to leave sloppy, open-mouthed kisses all along your neck.

The mere feeling of his tongue running over your skin was enough to make you lose all train of thought, and when he moved his hands down to firmly grasp your ass, pressing you down hard and rough on his thigh in the process, you couldn’t suppress the moan that rose in your throat.

You could feel your own wetness seeping through your underwear at that point, and you automatically squeezed your legs tighter together and ground down in a desperate attempt to create some friction.

Schlatt immediately picked up on your eagerness and squeezed your ass even harder, pulling you further up on his lap in the process and causing your hand to slide out of his pants as a result.

“Am I forgiven yet?”

Another moan left your lips as he placed you right on top of his own arousal, where your hand had been teasing him to the point of a full erection.

His breaths were ragged and uneven against the dampened skin of your neck, and the feeling of the cool air hitting your most sensitive spots together with his rock-hard member pressing up against where you needed him the most, was making it incredibly hard to focus on anything else.

Still, by controlling your own breathing, you managed to reply through airy pants, “No. I think I’m gonna need some more convincing.”

His persona which had previously been soft and sweet and reminding you of that of a scolded puppy, quickly got replaced by a fiercer, more heated demeanour, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to complain.

“Tell me what you want.”

His feelings about the events of the night were coming back, you could tell by the tone of his voice as he gave you the order.

“You know what I want.” You replied with an equal amount of annoyance, your emotions from the night’s events not having left, at all.

“I want to hear you say it.” He grumbled into your neck.

“Fuck you.”

You jumped as a sharp pinch was suddenly delivered to the flesh of your behind and moaned in sync with the man beneath you when he pushed himself closer to you as a response to the pleasure your sudden movements had given him.

“Watch your mouth, sweetheart.” He grumbled once again, and at that you couldn’t help but to snicker through heavy breaths.

“Or what?” You challenged, and nevertheless raised your arms with no protests when he gripped the bottom hem of your nightgown and pulled it up your body, allowing him to discard you of the item and throw it to the floor.

The teasing, the bickering, the challenging and the taunting all came naturally to the two of you. It had been how you had first met, and how you had kept behaving throughout the entirety of your relationship.

Neither of you had ever taken offense by it, but this time around, after everything that had happened that evening and everything you were currently feeling, there was a limit even for the two of you, only so much you could take before you no longer could.

No more time nor words were wasted from that moment forward, the two of you just needing to release your individual frustrations about the issue at hand and, to put it plainly, needing each other.

Schlatt’s shirt joined your nightgown on the floor not even a second later and you were both in such a rush to get your releases that you didn’t bother removing the rest of your clothes. His manhood was released from the entrapment of his shorts by your hand, and your heat exposed from your panties by two of his fingers while the two of you joined in another series of heated kisses.

They pushed past the soft fabric and continued on to part your folds. A moan immediately fell from your lips at the feeling of his fingers prodding your entrance, and your head followed suit by falling back against your neck.

“Fuck, you’re wet.”

Schlatt's voice came out as a mere gust of air. You felt him throb in your hand at the discovery, and yourself do the same as he gathered your wetness and spread it along your core and all the way up to the bundle of nerves that, at this point, was swollen with the need for release.

With a snide and determined demeanour, he added pressure on that very part of you, knowing just how to move his fingers in order to tick you off and get a rise out of you. The sounds falling from your mouth and the sight of your bodily reactions only further proved that he knew exactly what he was doing.

“You think that asshole could make you feel like his?”

His question was unexpected, having thought that you were through with speaking for the time being, and you, admittedly, found yourself unable to determine whether or not he had actually asked it with how far up the clouds your head was currently feeling.

Still, you pursed your lips and scoffed – a sound that came out sounding everything except for its intent as it was rudely interrupted by yet another moan.

“I- don’t be stupid.”

You leaned your head back down to look at him through hooded eyes and hardened your grip on him just the tiniest bit in retaliation.

When you did this, you could see even through the lack of light in the room how his eyes grew impossibly dark, and struggled to maintain your confident demeanour when he quickened his circular movements around your clit.

“I need you to answer me, sweetheart.”

You squeezed your teeth together and fought the urge to do the same to your eyes.

“No.” You muttered through tightened lips, and cursed yourself in your head for being so desperate.

“No, what?” He raised an eyebrow.

“He couldn’t.” You replied without missing a beat.

You weren’t in the mood nor state of mind to keep fighting, or talking at all, for that matter, but he just couldn’t help himself.

“That’s right. I’m the only one who can mess you up like this, and I should have shown him that right then and there on the fucking floor for the way that he was touching you.”

As soon as he’d said that, his lips were back on your neck, latched onto your skin as he toyed with your arousal in an infuriatingly anti-climactic manner.

Frustration grew in the pit of your stomach and before he could say anything else, you gave a sharp tug to his hair to get him back up from your neck.

His eyes were already open and waiting to meet yours, like he had known you were going to do what you did. Of course, he did, you thought, with the way he was trying to get a rise out of you.

The next few seconds went by in a flurry of fumbling, shifting and grabbing as you got yourselves situated for what was to come.

Your hands grabbed the hem of his shorts and boxers and pulled them down further down his thighs, he then proceeded to flip the two of you over so that he was hovering above you, reached down to grab a hold of himself and lined himself up at your entrance.

He didn’t get more than a second to adjust himself before you had wrapped your legs around his hips and pushed him inside of you.

His head immediately fell into the crook of your neck at the feeling, but he didn’t waste a second before moving his hips and working to find a steady pace.

Before you knew it, he was driving himself into you like a starved animal, grunting into your neck as he moved in long, hard strokes.

The sound of your moans blended together with his as well as the sound of your bodies slapping together, and you had to bite your lip and concentrate to the point of your eyebrows creasing together in order to keep yourself as quiet as you possibly could, in an attempt not to wake up your neighbours.

But soon enough, you’d reached the point where you couldn’t hold it in anymore, the point of your stomach knotting together familiarly as he picked up his pace and reached his hand down between your bodies to help you reach the edge of release.

You pressed your head into the pillow and squeezed your eyes shut at the overwhelming feeling.

“I- shit-” You moaned, clinging to his shoulders with all your might as you reached your climax.

You dug your nails into the skin of his back and at the sudden addition of pain, Schlatt’s hips began stuttering and getting sloppier with every move.

“Fuck.” He cussed into your neck, and before you’d gotten the chance to react, the familiar feeling of his seed spilling into you flooded your senses.

You rode out your highs together and after doing so, both of your bodies fell limp where you laid while you struggled to catch your breaths. Schlatt’s head moved up from your neck to instead rest atop your bare chest, and his arms wrapped around you as the two of you eventually fell into a comfortable silence.

It wasn’t long before he had snoozed off from a mixture of exhaustion and the feeling of your fingers running through his hair, light snores passing by his half-open mouth and fanning across your skin.

Not feeling ready to sleep yet but being a bit too immobilized by the brute of a man now sleeping on top of you and trapping you to the mattress with majority of his body weight slumped down on you, you didn’t have many other options of entertainment other than to pick up your phone.

As you did so, your lips immediately twitched at the sight of the message conversation with the man of the hour, where a new message had now made its way into the chat.

The message was short and to anyone else, it probably wouldn’t have been much at all. But knowing your boyfriend, this was an as heartfelt of a message that you could ask for, and was enough for you to forgive him right then and there.

He may have been too obstinate to apologize and admit to his flaws out loud, but for as long as you had been together, he had never left you to go to bed upset, and that’s what mattered.

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𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖗𝖊𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖘 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖌𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖑𝖞 𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖉, 𝖇𝖚𝖙 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖘 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖌𝖔𝖑𝖉𝖊𝖓 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖒𝖆𝖐𝖊 𝖆𝖓 𝖎𝖒𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖔𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖑𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖘 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗

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