vi !

“Baby, please,” you whined, your clit aching to be touched.

“Use your words, Princess. I know you got em, that’s how you ended up in this mess to begin with, huh?” Schlatt teased, his hand resting on your lower belly, feeling himself slide in and out of you.

“Uh, uh, uh-“ you moaned as you felt that familiar sensation in your abdomen.

“What, can’t use your words anymore? Fucked you too stupid to think?” He was slamming in and out of you at this point, harder than you’ve ever seen him do. It felt incredible.

“Jay-y-y-y-y,” you moaned out, matching his thrusts.

“That’s my girl. What do you need, baby? Want me to touch you?”

You moaned in response, unable to form words.

“My stupid girl. So dumb for me. But so good, too. Aren’t you, baby? So good for me, huh?”

You whined in response, trying desperately to agree with him, but you were too full, it felt too good. Schlatt’s fingers finally found your clit and you were cumming around him not even a minute later.

“Y’did so good for me, doll,” Schlatt said, smacking your ass while he went to get a towel.

All you could do was whimper in response.

lmk if this is bad sorryyyy

The two of you settle on the floor, the plush carpet being more than enough cushion. You envelop yourself in his soft blanket - the same one he let you use when you had the flu and couldn’t get warm to save your life.

Schlatt clicks play and the movie begins, the sound of roaring engines filling the room as he lets the opening scene distract him. He glances over at you occasionally, stealing a corner of the blanket and pathetically draping it over one of his legs.

After some time passed, he can’t seem to keep himself from commenting on the film. He was always pointing out some dumb detail or flaw. It's annoying, but at least he's paying some attention to you. He keeps shifting a bit closer every now and then. You reluctantly pass him half of the blanket, moving closer to him so it covered the both of you. Schlatt grumbles but doesn't protest, shifting as well so the blanket drapes over both you and him more comfortably. The heat of his body radiates through the fabric, warm and familiar. His knee bumps against yours, as if on purpose, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

As the movie progresses, he seems more distracted, his fingers playing with a loose thread on the blanket. Every now and then, he steals a glance at you. You accidentally made eye contact with him during one of his stolen glances.

“You okay, Schlatt? You seem kind of distracted,” you mumble. Schlatt tenses briefly under the attention before averting his gaze again, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"I'm fine. Just... this movie sucks, y'know?" He attempts to sound nonchalant, but his fingers fidgeting with the blanket betray his nerves - an old habit. 

You pause for a brief second. “Do you wanna watch something else?” You offer.

"Nah, it's fine," he mutters, voice lower now. "Just... keep the blanket." 

He leans back slightly, arms crossing over his chest like a shield, but his eyes flicker to you again - softer this time. The glow of the screen lights up his tired face, shadows under his eyes from another sleepless night. "We can watch whatever you want next. If you're…  still around."

"I'm always here, you know that,” you say as you cuddle up in the blanket, moving to lay down on the floor.

Schlatt's eyes follow you as you lie down, a complex mix of emotions passing through them. "Yeah, unfortunately," he retorts, trying to sound sarcastic but it comes out a little weaker than intended. For a moment, he just sits there silently, fingers still picking at the loose thread from before. Then, finally, he lets out a sigh and slowly lowers himself beside you. His shoulder brushes against yours.

Your eyelids start to get heavy as you let out a yawn. You subconsciously throw half of the blanket back over him. “It's kinda cold in here,” you say.

Schlatt stiffens slightly as your hand brushes him while adjusting the blanket. He doesn’t say anything for a beat - just watches you out of the corner of his eye, the glow of the screen flickering across his face.

“You’re always cold,” he mutters, voice low and rough, but he pulls the blanket tighter around both of you anyway. “Should’ve worn more than that stupid tee shirt.”

He shifts closer - not quite touching you, but close enough that you can feel the warmth rolling off him. After a few seconds, almost too quietly to hear, he says “sleep if you want. I’ll turn it down.”

You close your eyes, not realizing just now much you’re nestling into his warmth.

Schlatt’s larger frame freezes as you nestle closer, head nearly resting against his shoulder. He stares at you, at your closed eyes and peaceful expression.

“You’re way too comfortable like this,” he mumbles, mostly to himself. He grabs the remote and turns down the volume of the shitty action movie he picked.

“Schlatt?”

“Yeah?” He replies after a beat, thinking you were already asleep.

"Do you like living with me?” You yawn again, eyes still closed.

Schlatt is stunned by the question, taken off guard by your candidness. He stays silent for a long moment, weighing his response. His fingers grip the remote a little tighter.

"It's... tolerable," he finally responds, trying to sound indifferent. But his heart beats a bit faster, betraying the nonchalance in his tone.

He glances down at you, his expression softening against his will. You're half asleep, completely vulnerable... and he feels a pang of unexpected affection.

"Well, I like living with you,” you mumble, half-asleep. You yawn again. “You're sweet, even when you try to be a dick.”

Schlatt's eyes widen a bit, his brain short-circuiting at your words. Did you just... call him sweet? The same guy who’s nickname for you is “idiot?”

"Sweet," he repeats slowly, the word heavy on his tongue. It's not one he associates with himself often, if ever.. He scoffs, trying to mask the flustered look in his eyes - but it's obvious.

"You're delusional," he mutters, but there's no real annoyance in his voice this time. In fact, it almost sounds… fond?

“Maybe I'm just sleepy, I dunno. I like you, you're nice and stuff..." Your thoughts trail off as you gently begin to snore, falling asleep mid-sentence.

Schlatt's breath hitches as you fall asleep against him, your head resting on his shoulder. His heart pounds in his chest - partly in annoyance, partly in something he's been avoiding feeling for months now.

"Damn it," he mutters, half to himself and half to you. He debates moving, gently pushing you off, but the weight of you against him feels so right. He instead finds himself leaning back slightly, shifting so you're more comfortable. Your warmth seeps into him. "You're gonna be the death of me," he sighs.

Your head nestles into the crook of his neck, trying to get more comfortable in your state of sleep.

Schlatt goes completely still as your head settles into his neck, breath catching. His fingers twitch at his side, wanting to push you away, but also wanting to pull you closer. He plays it safe and does neither.

He doesn’t move you. Instead, one hand slowly rises, not quite touching you at first, then finally drapes over your shoulder in a stiff, awkward hug that lasts just a second before he relaxes completely.

"Sleep well," he mutters into the dim room. "Dork."

Twenty minutes go by in the quiet room, the television still playing that shitty action movie. You lazily drape your arm over Schlatt's chest, still asleep. His heart pounds uncontrollably as your arm drapes across his chest, your warm hand resting just under his collarbone. His eyes dart to your face, taking in the peacefulness there; your gentle breaths and the rise and fall of your chest.

He can't deny the rush of warmth at the small touch, the sudden impulse to pull you closer. So he does, ever so slightly, shifting so you're more flush against him.

"You're clingy in your sleep," he murmurs, mostly to himself.

You let out a small whine and shift your body closer to him, if that was even possible.

"Damn it," he grumbles, heart racing. His free hand tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, gently.

"Don't... get used to this," he mumbles, knowing the words are more for himself than you.

Your breathing quickens as you lightly grip Schlatt’s shirt. Schlatt’s seen this before, only a handful of times. You were having a nightmare. It had been months, maybe over a year since your last one. Schlatt tenses, recognizing that shift.

"Hey," he whispers, voice low but firm. "Hey, stop… you're okay." His arms wrap around you fully now, with no hesitation. He pulls you flush against his chest and rests his chin on top of your head, shielding you from the nightmare - as if that were possible.

"Breathe," he murmurs into your hair. "I'm here. I've got you. Nothing's gonna get through me."

Your eyes snap open as you grip his shirt, tighter this time. Your breathing is fast and shallow. Tears form in your eyes as they dart around the room, looking for signs of that nightmare being real. Schlatt's eyes widen as you jolt awake, gasping and clinging to him desperately. He feels the dampness on his shirt and realizes you're crying. A fierce protective instinct surges through him.

"Hey, look at me. Stay with me. Stay with me." He grabs your chin gently but firmly, forcing you to meet his gaze. The intensity in his eyes, usually guarded, is full of protectiveness in this moment. "It was just a nightmare. You're safe.”

"Oh shit,” you mumble, fully awake now. “I'm so sorry, I'm like... on top of you. Sorry, sorry. I- fuck. Sorry," You wipe the tears away, going to move away from Schlatt's chest.

"Not so fast. You're not leaving," he huffs, half-joking. "You've made such a mess on my shirt, the least you can do is stay put." His thumb rubs small, soothing circles on your shoulder almost unconsciously, trying to ground you. "You good? You're, like, shaking…”

You unexpectedly start crying harder. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ruin your shirt, I'm sorry,” you hiccup from the crying. I don't know where this came from, I-"

“Stop. It was just a nightmare, it wasn't real, was it?” Schlatt's tone is firm but surprisingly gentle. His hands shift to grip your upper arms, holding you in place. "Take a breath. Stop shaking. And stop apologizing. It's just a shirt, I can get another." He moves a hand to your hair, combing through it gently as he tries to get you to mimic his deep breaths.

You mimic his breathing, slowing down. Tears are still streaming down your face. “Okay, I'm- I'm done, I think. Sorry.”

Schlatt exhales sharply, almost annoyed, but not at you. At the world. At himself for not knowing how to fix this.

“You’re such a pain,” he mutters, pulling you back against his chest before you can protest. “Stop saying sorry like I’m mad at you. I’m not.” He tucks your head under his chin, one hand pressed firmly between your shoulder blades like he’s holding together pieces of something broken. “You don’t gotta be okay all the time,” he says lowly, voice rougher than before. “Just… breathe. And stay.”

You match your breathing to Schlatt's, calming you down. You can hear his heartbeat through his chest... it's going kind of fast? Did you scare him with your nightmare? "I'll buy you a new shirt, I promise," you say with a small laugh.

Schlatt huffs out a laugh that's more air than sound. "Stop worrying about a damn shirt, idiot. You're making such a fuss over nothing." His hand continues to rub small circles on your back, fingers tracing patterns in the material. He can feel you calming down, your tears slowing. He doesn't loosen his grip on you, though, still holding you closely against him. "You don't need to 'make it up' to me," he mumbles, almost begrudgingly. "You didn't do anything wrong. Just had a shitty nightmare."

"It was so realistic, it scared me a lot. I know this was just supposed to be a movie night, not a therapy & cuddle session,” you let out an unconvincing laugh.

Schlatt’s expression darkens. Not at you, but at the idea that you’d even think this was a burden. “This wasn’t supposed to be anything,” he says quietly, thumb brushing the back of your neck. “Just being here. That’s all we need to do.” He shifts so you’re tucked even closer, voice dropping low and rough like he’s admitting something dangerous. “Don’t laugh like it’s dumb. Cuddling’s not that bad… when it’s with someone who doesn’t suck.” He pauses for a moment, then his voice fills your ears, barely above a whisper. “And if your nightmares come back? I’ll kick ‘em out.”

"See what I mean? You're sweet... even when you try to be a dick," you murmur into his neck.

Schlatt scoffs, but it's more amused than anything. He gives you a light nudge with his shoulder. "Shut up," he says, but there's no bite to it. "You're gonna make me sound soft or something, dumbass." He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, fingers gently pushing another strand of hair back from your face. The intensity in his eyes could almost be affection, if he'd ever admit to it. "You gonna sleep now, idiot? Or do I gotta keep you here all night?"

You paused. “Can I actually stay for a bit longer? It's... kinda nice. You're warm, and, uh, familiar. It's, um... comforting."

Schlatt stares at you for a long beat, his expression unreadable. Then he looks away first, jaw flexing like he's fighting the words. "...Fine. Like I'm gonna kick you out now," he mutters, already shifting to make more room. "You're here. You're warm. You’re, uh… familiar… too.” He pulls the blanket up over both of you a little higher, voice dropping low and rough. "Just... don't tell anyone I said that."

"I won't, I promise," you say with a smile, nuzzling back into his chest. Schlatt lets out a long breath, his eyelids growing heavier as he feels you nestle against his chest again. His arms tighten around you almost reflexively, and he rests his chin on your head. Despite his earlier protests, he's actually comfortable. Safe. Warm. The room is quiet apart from the television droning in the background, but his focus is entirely on you in his arms. He closes his eyes, body almost perfectly still apart from his steady breathing.

"Don't drool on me," he mutters, voice more tired than annoyed.

"Why do you care? This shirt is ruined from my tears already," you let out a soft laugh, hand reaching up to touch his cheek. Schlatt grumbles but he doesn't move away when you touch his cheek. If anything, he actually leans forward into your touch just a bit, like a cat nuzzling for affection.

"Shut up," he murmurs, trying to sound annoyed, but the effect is ruined by the tired rasp in his voice, and the way his hand on your shoulder drifts idly over your skin. “You’re annoying.”

“Says the guy who cuddled me out of a panic attack,” you retort.

“You were shaking,” Schlatt groans, eyes closed, voice low and gravelly. “It’s not like I could leave you flailing like a dying fish.” He shifts slightly, arm tightening around you just enough to remind you that he’s not letting go anytime soon.

After a beat of silence, your voice pierced the quiet night. “I meant what I said earlier,” you whispered. You’re sweet. I like living with you, I like you, you’re nice… all that.”

Schlatt tenses for a moment. “Yeah, well… shut up. You’re way too honest, has anyone ever told you that?”

He’s avoiding the point and he knows it, but he can’t be vulnerable around you. He’s not ready to break down that wall quite yet, he thinks.

You lay there in the silence, processing his words. Why can’t he take a compliment, or ever say anything truly nice? Was it you? You moved your hand from his cheek back down to his chest.

“So, do you, uh… do you think you’ll get a new roommate when the lease is up?” You ask, trying not to show your hurt.

Schlatt’s eyes snap open at the question, voice sharp and sudden. "No."

The word hangs heavy in the air. He doesn’t explain. Doesn’t qualify it. Just tugs you closer, almost angrily now, like he can physically stop you from thinking such a stupid thing. "You wanna move out or something?" His voice drops low, rougher than before, defensive again. "‘Cause I didn’t sign up for this... whatever this is... just to let some idiot replace you."

"No, no. trust me, I... really like it here... with you... I just can't ever really tell how you feel. About anything, really,” your voice drops to a barely-audible whisper. “About me.”

Schlatt goes completely still. The only sound is the faint hum of the TV and the shaky breath he tries to hide.

"You really wanna know how I feel?”

You nod, looking up at him.

“I keep this stupid blanket on my bed 'cause you stole it once when you were sick and left your stupid smell on it. I drink less when you’re around because I don’t want to say something stupid that’ll hurt you.” He swallows hard. "And right now I'm holding onto you like an idiot ‘cause if I let go, even a little, I’m scared you’ll think none of this mattered."

There were a few moments of silence as you processed his words, looking down at his chest, watching his breathing increase in speed.

"So don’t ask me how I feel," he mutters, pressing his forehead briefly against the top of your head. "Just stay with me.”

You crane your neck back up to look at him. "You mean that?"

He glares down at you with an intensity that’s almost frightening, eyes flashing. "Do I look like the type to bullshit?"

You shift your body to lay your head next to his instead of laying on his chest, making direct eye contact with him. "No, you're not the type to bullshit." Your eyes flicker for a moment as you really study his face. You’ve never seen him so close before.

He swallows hard, the sound suddenly loud in the quiet room. Your face is now barely an inch from his, so close he can feel your breath against his chin. His heart beats frantically, but he doesn't look away. He can't. He doesn’t want to. His voice is just as gravelly as before, but with a hint of something more vulnerable now. “You just gonna study my ugly mug all day, idiot?”

"You're anything but ugly,” you whisper, heart feeling like it's in your throat.

Schlatt's lips twitch, a barely noticeable attempt to fight a smirk. Your words, so casual and honest, cut right through his defenses. He scoffs, but there's no real malice in it. “You got bad taste, you know that? I'm not exactly the picture of... well, anything nice." He keeps his eyes fixed on yours, studying your expression like he's trying to memorize it. "But if you like it, m’not complaining,” he murmurs, fingers tracing a small pattern on your shoulder, almost unconsciously.

Your hand instinctively reaches up to cup his cheek "I, uh... I do... like it,” you say, voice barely audible.

Schlatt’s breath hitches as your hand cups his cheek, fingers warm against his skin. For a second, he just freezes. He doesn’t know how to exist in a world where someone touches him like this; so gently, like he  actually matters to someone.

“Don’t," he grumbles, but there's no real force behind it. "Don't say stuff like that like it’s nothing." His voice drops low, almost broken. "You're gonna make me feel things I don’t know how to fix." Before he can stop himself, he leans into your touch ever so slightly.

Your other hand reaches up to tangle itself in his hair, playing with the curls. "Maybe I don't want you to fix it."

Schlatt lets out a shaky breath. "Then you're even more of an idiot than I thought.” His eyes flicker between yours like he's searching for an escape hatch. But there isn't one. Not with your hands on him. Not with your warmth so close.

You sit up, letting the blanket fall, revealing one of Schlatt's tee shirts on your body. "I don't know where to go from here,” you mumble, vulnerably. “I... I'm scared. My nightmare that I had-“ You cut yourself off, unsure if you should say anything else’s your heart was beating at a million miles per minute.

Schlatt’s gaze follows you as you sit up, his touch gone from your shoulder. You missed the feeling.

“Scared?” Schlatt repeats. He wants to scoff like he always does, to brush it off like it doesn’t matter, but he doesn't. He can see it in your eyes. The fear is real. So he shifts, sitting up too, blanket forgotten at this point. "What did you dream about?"

"I dunno if i should say. I feel like... if I tell you, it's going somewhere we... somewhere we can't go back from."

Schlatt's eyebrows furrow at that, concern flickering across his features. He can tell this is more serious than you're letting on. "What, you think I'll think you're crazy or somethin'?" He keeps his voice flat, not wanting to betray any of the emotions churning within him - not wanting to show how much he cares. “You can tell me. Just say it, idiot."

"Okay… I had a dream where I lost you. You didn't want to be here with me anymore - as a roommate, a friend... anything. You left. I don't know what I did wrong, but-“ you cut yourself off as tears start to well up in your eyes again.

Schlatt's breath hitches. There's a beat of heavy silence, the only sound in the room is your shaky breath and the faint sound of that stupid action movie playing a few feet away.

“...You really think I'd do that to you?"

"No," you say, instantly - surprising yourself in the process with your quick response. “I know you wouldn't. When I woke up, I was looking around... for you... and you were holding me saying everything was okay and that you wanted me to stay... it felt so right. I'm scared to tell you this because I know you're just gonna brush it off and call it stupid like you always do, but... I dunno. I feel dumb,” you admit, copying Schlatt’s nervous habit of picking at the loose thread on his blanket.

Schlatt's jaw clenches, mind racing as the words hit him. Every instinct in him is screaming to push you away, to push all these stupid feelings away like he usually does when he gets scared, but he can't. Not when you're like this. So vulnerable, so fragile.

"You idiot," he murmurs, and this time it's not half-assed, half-joking, it's just broken. "You're an actual idiot if you think I'd ever leave you, even in a stupid dream."

You sit there, defeated, crying, and unsure of where to go next.

Schlatt sighs, exasperated. Not at you, at himself. Frustration and desperation linger in his eyes. He hates this. He hates not knowing how to deal with this, but he also can't ignore how your tears cut into him like a knife.

"Jesus Christ, you're such a pain. Stop crying." He reaches up to wipe the tears off your face, almost more gentle than he means to. “I'm not goin’ anywhere, dumbass."

"I know, it's just... I care about you so much, I don't... I wouldn't know what to do without you."

Schlatt freezes. Your words hit him like a freight train; direct, raw, honest. He stares at you, eyes wide and unguarded for once, like he’s been caught in the headlights. “You can't just say stuff like that," he murmurs, voice rough and low. "Not when I'm already... already-"  He cuts himself off, jaw clenching hard. His fingers tremble where they're still touching your face. He looks away for a second, like he needs to gather his strength, but then turns back to you. “I'm right here," he says, quiet and firm. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me." 

You open your arms, signaling him to come hug you - something you’d only ever done when it felt absolutely necessary. Schlatt stares at your open arms for a brief moment, deciding if he can allow himself this. Then, with a quiet breath, he gives in. 

He wraps around you completely. His arms tight around you, one hand on the back of your head like he’s shielding you from the world. His face presses into your hair as his voice drops, low and raw.

"Don’t ever say I’m not here. You feel me? I’m right here, and I always will be."

"You’re my person,” you whisper to him. “I don't wanna do this life without you.”

Schlatt's arms tighten around you at that, like he wants to pull you even closer. He tucks your face into the curve of his neck; a protective movement that feels almost subconscious. His heart beats hard against your forehead, and you can hear the shakiness to his breath.

"You're my person too," he whispers against your skin. “But stop the waterworks already, alright? …Please?” His soft desperation makes you want to cry even harder.

"Sorry," I mutter into the crook of his neck. We sit there, hugging for a while. It feels nice. Natural.

"Stop saying sorry," Schlatt mumbles into your hair, voice rough but softer than before. "Just… stay like this."

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t loosen his grip. The warmth between you builds, the steady rhythm of his breath syncing with yours. The television still hums in the background, forgotten, and irrelevant. After a while, he shifts just enough to tuck you more securely against him, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go for even a second.

"You're warm," he says quietly. "And annoying. But… you’re mine."

"...Yours?” You question, unsure if you were hearing that right.

Schlatt's heart clenches when you say that, an involuntary, almost painful response. He tightens his grip on you, fingers digging into your back in a way that feels more protective than aggressive.

"Yeah. Mine," he mutters, almost defiantly; like he's staking a claim. His voice drops even lower, more possessive. "You're mine."

Your hands snake up to his hair again, playing with the soft curls. You gently grip his hair. "You're mine too.” Your lips gently brush his neck as you reposition yourself in his embrace. He freezes, hands jolting at the soft touch against his neck. He offers a small shudder after he realizes he can move again, gently tilting his head away from you and exposing more of his neck, almost… as an offering.

You lightly kiss his neck, testing the waters. He stifles a small groan.

“Schlatt…” You whisper, nervously. “You’re mine, you’re my person. I wanna be yours… in every way.”

Schlatt goes completely still, like the world just stopped. His hands slide down your body, ending at your hips. His breath is coming in short, uneven bursts. He can’t speak for a long time. What you just said might’ve just changed everything. "You don't know what you're saying," he rasps, voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not... I'm not good at this. I’ll mess it up.” Even as he says it, his hands slide up your back like he can't stop touching you.  

 “Once you're mine like that,” he swallows, hard. "I won’t let go."

"Good. I don't want you to,” you reply, one hand making its way to cup his cheek.

"You don't understand what you're doing. I'm not good at this. You're too perfect. You've got no idea. You could have anyone, and you're telling me you're mine?"

Both of your hands cup his face, studying his expression. “Yes,” you say after a beat, confidently. 

Schlatt's breath hitches as your hands cup his face, holding him in place like he’s something precious instead of broken. He stares into your eyes, searching, doubting, wanting so badly to believe you. "You're gonna regret this," he whispers, voice rough with emotion. "I’m not good at being soft, or kind, or sweet, or whatever the hell you want me to be,” he pauses for a moment. “But if you’re dumb enough to want me, I won’t run.”

You lean in and connect your lips, gently kissing him. God, what you would do to read Schlatt’s mind right now.

You break the kiss. "I meant every word I said. You're sweet. You're nice. I like living with you. I like you. I like you... a lot."

Schlatt stares at you, breathless, his lips still tingling from the kiss. His eyes are wide, dark, and searching yours like he’s trying to find the catch, the moment you realize this was all a mistake.

"You keep saying I'm sweet," he mutters, voice rough and low, "but I don’t feel sweet. I feel... like a storm about to wreck everything." He pulls you back against him before you can answer, his hands gripping your waist tight, and leans his forehead against yours. "But if you're stupid enough to want me?"  

His thumb brushes your bottom lip. "Then yeah... I'm yours."