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davdcorenswet · 4 months ago

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🌲 road trip.

scott miller x reader Synopsis: when your camping trip with scott gets cut short because of a work emergency, you nearly kill him and every member of storm par, intent on making your ire well known on the drive home. but when you push scott too far, his impatience has other plans. or “If I have to pull over, you won’t be able to walk for a week.” Word Count: 13.3k Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!!, no use of y/n, bdsm, established dom/sub dynamic, pet names (honey, sweetheart, baby), brief mentions of serial killerisms (teasingly… maybe), semi-priv public sex (in a truck), scott has a whore mouth (again), groping, belting (f! receiving), spanking/slapping (f! receiving, breasts & v), oral (m+f), nippleplay (f! receiving), unprotected pinv, orgasm denial, fingering (f), cumplay, breeding A/N: when the "just a quick one shot" turns into a beast... oops? 😬 thank you to my proud sponsor aka the scott rot™️! if you enjoyed, pls feel free to reblog or give it a like and as always, my inbox is open if you want to chat!!! 🤍

On hour two of the drive back to OKC, you think you’ve lost your mind.

What had begun as a much-anticipated weekend road trip with Scott — an incredibly overdue escape, though you weren’t exactly keeping track — had swiftly turned from enjoying the fresh, open air and the promise of an entire weekend distraction-free, to a mountain of frustration that battled the ones in the distance. All because your charming, secretly sentimental boyfriend had wanted a picture of you and the sunset for his lock screen.

If you weren’t so upset about it, you probably would’ve laughed.

But this was the fourth (fourth!) time that something had gotten in the way of your Scott Time, and, look — you needed it. So. Fucking. Badly.

Which was why when his phone had gone off again, after Scott had ignored the voicemails Javi left him, you were so, so very tempted to hurl the fucking thing into the pond. Instead, you sat there, already trying to think of a way to get your lick back with the fact that he was the one who’d insisted that going off the grid meant going off the grid and electronics simply took away from the nature of it all, the hypocritical ass. And you’d watched, with dawning realization and equal devastation, as Scott’s entire demeanor had shifted from peeved that Javi even had the audacity, to shutting his mouth and speaking in yes, sir’s and I understand, sir’s.

Oh, Marshall Riggs was going to get an absolute earful the next time y’all sat down for Sunday dinner.

But first, you had your sights set on Scott. And, quite frankly, he deserved every second of petulant that you were giving him.

When he adjusted the air conditioning, you dropped the temp lower. When he found a good station on the radio, you changed it. When he asked for one of the snacks by your seat, you munched on it first, mumbling a fake apology when you passed him a small piece. And when you finally started talking, it was one word answers: yes, no, dunno, sure, fine, whatever.

And every time he gripped the steering wheel just a little tighter, you felt vindicated by the fact that it was ticking him off.

Good. You were ticked off. And unbelievably, atrociously bored. There were only so many things you could do in his truck while you were half giving him a cold shoulder. And, well, after the last time you’d reached for the volume and he’d caught your wrist with a stern ‘knock it off’, like you were a child, you’d resorted to pouting out the window, then sifting through his middle storage, and then snooping through his glove box.

All of which were boring, in the exact way that only a man’s truck could be boring. Who didn’t have a car Chapstick, but could have packs of gum hidden everywhere? And where were the just-in-case napkins? And what did he even use pliers for?

Your brattiness — no, curiosity — wins over the agitation that still simmers just under the surface. You turn to Scott with a mischievous grin as you hold up the pliers. “Be honest. Are you secretly a serial killer?”

Scott glances at you, then at the pliers, before rolling his eyes with a faint smirk. “Caught me,” he deadpans, his voice carrying just enough sarcasm to draw out your giggle.

“I knew it.” You dig further into his glove box like you expect to find a pair of gloves, which stupidly has you giggling because you’d lost your mind, see, and there was no way there’d actually— Oh. Shit. He really did have gloves. “You’re the worst serial killer I’ve met. Your whole murder kit is in here and you haven’t even tried to kill me yet?”

“Getting close to it, honey,” Scott quips, a teasing edge to his voice that makes your heart flutter. His eyes stay fixed on the road, but you catch the slight twitch of his lips, betraying his amusement.

Until you keep it up, making an exaggerated show of pulling out every item you find, each discovery more dramatic than the last. The subtle tightening of his jaw tells you that rummaging through his stuff is getting more of a rise from him than your earlier silence had. His grip on the steering wheel tightens, the whites of his knuckles glowing under the moonlight, and you can’t help but feel a thrill of satisfaction at the sight.

Curling your knees to your chest with his newest item in your lap (a bundle of zip ties), you bat your lashes up at him with feigned innocence. “Am I bothering you, baby?”

“Nope.” Scott, to his credit (you pretend it’s not because you’re his girlfriend but because he just chooses to be kind), swallows down whatever shitty retort is on the tip of his tongue as he shakes his head. “Not at all.”

His eyes flick briefly to you, then back to the road, as if anchoring himself, before he plasters one of his obnoxiously fake smiles on that doesn’t reach his eyes. Your own smile slips at the blatant irritation bubbling just beneath the surface, hating that look, knowing he knew you hated when he was fake with you. He reaches over, his hand finding your knee — not in the usual affectionate squeeze, but more as a grounding gesture, a silent plea for you to stop before you push him too far.

“You might want to close that now,” he adds, his voice soft but laced with an unmistakable edge as he jerks his chin toward his still-open glove box. “Before I really lose my patience.”

“But...” you start, pouting a little, your fingers lingering on the edge of the glove box. “I was just having fun. I mean, what else could be in here? Secret spy gadgets? Hidden treasures?”

Scott’s grip on the steering wheel tightens. His patience is fraying, each word clipped and precise as he says, “Close. It. Now.”

You relent, closing it with a dramatic flourish and an equally exaggerated sigh. “Okay, okay. Glove box exploration time is over.”

Scott exhales, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “Thank you,” he mutters, though his eyes still carry a hint of irritation as he changes the radio station a couple of times, scowling at the country crooning through his speakers, before just shutting it off.

“You sure you’re okay?” You test, still pushing his limits. You figured that Scott knew you better than that. That you knew him better than that. Nearly seven months together — again, not that you were counting — and he really thought you couldn’t tell when something was off?

You continue, “Just because… Well, you seem a little stressed. Is it because you didn’t get to tie me up and torture me back there by the pond? I mean, I’m sure you’ll get another chance someday, like when cows fly, but—”

“Are you done?” Scott huffs, shooting you a look.

You don’t back down from it, leveling him with your own hard expression. When he’s forced to return to the road, breaking eye contact first, that prideful part of you purrs. He sighs. “I don’t like this any more than you do, but I don’t have any other choice. So sit down, shut up, and stop fucking with my system, please.”

He says the last through gritted teeth, and as much as you loved to antagonize him, you knew when to push and when to not. Putting the last of the stuff back where you’d found it exactly how you’d found it, you stuff your hands under your thighs and pout quietly until he visibly relaxes again.

“You’re not being very nice,” you mumble, the silence that encases you both too much to bear.

Scott runs his tongue over his teeth, then looks over at you, his expression hard. “And you’re lucky I haven’t spanked your ass raw for that attitude yet.” Surprise must flash across your face, because a smirk twitches at the corner of his mouth that he quickly masks. “What? Did you think I would just let all that slide?”

“No.”

Maybe.

“Liar.”

Damn it.

Before you can say anything else, Scott reaches over, gently but firmly tilting your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze as his eyes leave the road for a second. “Do I need to remind you of the rules?” he asks, his tone shifting from frustrated to something far more controlled and deliberate — each word laced with a quiet authority that sends a shiver down your spine and makes your blood run hot.

It’s a tone you’ve come to know all too well, one that signals a subtle shift in the dynamic between you, a reminder of exactly who’s in charge.

To anyone else, it might have sounded like another classic Scott lecture — a stern word from someone who was used to being in control. But you knew this side of him intimately well, understood the depths of what he was really asking. This wasn’t just about a conversation or setting you straight; it was a command, a subtle but potent assertion of the power he held over you.

“Answer me,” he prompts, his voice dropping to a low, steady hum that makes your pulse race. “Yes or no, honey.”

“No,” you breathe, testing the waters of defiance.

“Let’s try that again.” Scott’s grip remains steady on the wheel, but the weight of his gaze feels like a tightening hold around you. “No, what?” he asks, his voice low and demanding, leaving no room for anything but the correct response.

You swallow. The tension between you is thick and electric. “No, sir.”

He holds your gaze for a moment that feels like an eternity, long enough for you to actually worry about him being behind the wheel. But a quick glance at the road reassures you — he’s in complete control, staying perfectly between the lines, maintaining a comfortable distance from the cars ahead and behind.

His eyes flicker to your mouth, lingering there with a deliberate intensity. “We’ll see.”

A noise of discontent escapes you immediately when he returns to his side of the truck as if nothing happened, all the air leaving your lungs. We’ll see. That was it? No good girl? It’s a reprimand all on its own, defiance filling you quickly.

What was the point of his rules if he wasn’t going to listen to them?

First with his phone, which had gotten you here in the first place, and now this. You pout, crossing your arms as you glare at the car in front of you, hating everything about this weekend. God, you’d both been so exhausted from the drive to the campsite that you hadn’t even touched him like he’d promised you could **— **on top of the week he’d already instructed you not to touch yourself.

And now Scott was going to be buried in work again. He’d drop you off at home just to drive another hour or two to who the hell knew where, and from there it was back to the office to get the paperwork rolling, call the banks, pouring hour after hour into making sure this deal went through. All because Riggs had decided his time off was more important than yours.

But it wasn’t. You’d waited eons for this. And you were damned if you were going to let both him and Scott stop you.

Slowly, so slowly, you angle yourself toward your boyfriend, his eyes distant as he readjusts in his seat and fishes absentmindedly for a piece of gum to smack on. For a moment you can’t help but admire him, appreciating the way he filled out the seat, the way his jaw worked with the gum, how when he got lost in his thoughts and had a particularly interesting idea he swiped his fingers along his perfect, full mouth.

He was masculine without any effort, intelligent and calculating, and, despite this weekend, was the most attentive boyfriend you’d ever had.

And you ached for him.

Just that tone shift alone — from Scott to sir — had spiked your temperature, leaving you warm with the lack of air conditioning. You knew better than to reach for the knobs, even if the thought of him pinning your wrist down had your thighs pressing together. So you shift forward to unzip his jacket you’d stolen, meaning to shimmy it off, when you catch his eyes on you.

Instead of taking it off completely, you let the gray fabric bunch to your elbows. His eyes slide from the way it now sits on you to your white tank top before focusing back on the road, his gum making that unmistakable snap! he always did. “What’re you doing?” He asks, stealing another glance as you wriggle in the seat.

“Just hot, baby,” you hum, which wasn’t a lie.

But there’s no way to be subtle as you collect your hair into a ponytail and tie it with your scrunchie, just like there’s no way Scott can be subtle as he zeroes in on your hair being up or the fact that your tits jiggle with every bump or dip in the road. His hand flexes on the wheel, quick to snap his attention to the mirrors, as if he’d been checking them in the first place.

You bite back a smile.

By the time Scott is pressing on the brakes, an accident brings the two-lane down to one, one foot is propped up on his dashboard, your head turned to face him with every sigh that leaves your lips. With nothing to pull his attention now other than the slow crawl, his eyes catch yours again, his guard dropping as he falsely believes you’ve listened.

And that’s when you make your move.

“Baby,” you groan, wetting your lips as your fingers brush across his sleeve. Your other hand rests against your knee, slipping down along your thigh while you bat thick lashes up at him. “Can you turn the air on, please? I’m dying.”

“Mhm.” Scott does, following the invisible line your fingers paint across your skin as the air kicks on. The cool air is welcomed and the content noise that leaves you isn’t entirely fabricated. When his hand drops to rest on your thigh, you know he feels how flushed you are under his cold touch. And you know he feels you arch into it. “How’s that? Better?”

“’ Little.” Not even close, but you play it up now that you’ve got him. “Still too hot.”

“Sorry, honey,” Scott’s deep voice is genuine, frowning a bit as he squeezes your thigh. “Got it the lowest it can go. Need me to roll a window down?”

You shake your head. “It’d just bring all the hot air in.” Something he should’ve known, but you couldn’t blame him for being a little distracted. You press on, confident, still inflecting that whine in your voice. “Your hand feels good, though.”

His touch inches up your thigh in response, sure that he’s not even aware he’s doing it. As your touch moves in time with his, you drag your free hand across your chest, pressing against the leather of his seats and pushing a strap off your shoulder. The cool air directly hitting you causes a flurry of goosebumps to rise and your nipples to poke through the fabric, chest rising and falling as you make a show of overheating.

Scott snaps his gum again, removing his hand to tug gently on his jacket. “What did I say about going through my stuff?”

“Oh, you left it at my place. I didn’t think it’d be a big deal.” You try to play innocent, but the smile you give him is nothing short of mischievous as you intentionally arch up into his touch. “Do you want it back, sir?”

He’s quiet for so long that you think he’s returned to the road. Instead, his eyes are locked on the thin tank top that clings tight around you. A quiet hum echoes in the back of his throat as he runs his knuckles over the swell of your breast, dragging slowly across your nipple, before he seems to think better of himself and places both hands back on the wheel.

“Keep it.” He grunts, “It looks better on you, anyway.”

“Really?” Despite how you try to hide the happiness from your voice, you fail miserably. Scott didn’t offer many liberties, especially not with his personal belongings. You don’t let the distance keep you far, unhooking your seatbelt and leaning over the center divider to beam up at him.

“Really.” Your heart pitter-patters in your chest when he hums again, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. His eyes slide back to the road, still at a slow crawl. “Don’t get any ideas, honey.”

Oh, you had about fifty different ones, most of which included seeing how far you could go down this new avenue. You drop a kiss to his shoulder, nuzzling against his cold skin, slipping your arm through his and guiding his hand back to your thigh. Scott squeezes again, a small warning to behave. But since when did you do that?

“Come on,” he taps an index against you after a few minutes, “Buckle up. Safety first.”

“But—” You pout, wrapping your arm around him tighter. He could drive with one hand, and besides, you were barely moving enough for a seatbelt to matter. “You feel so nice. And you’re always away for sooo long, baby. And now you’re gonna be gone again?” Brushing your nose along his jaw, you let your hand drop casually to his thigh. “I just miss you.”

“It’ll only be for a few days.” He shifts under you, chewing his gum slower. No doubt weighing whether he should let this continue or end it early.

“A few days too many.” You feel him inhale as your touch roams, sliding over his muscled thigh and across the zipper of his jeans. He’s already half-hard, the outline of him growing more apparent as you continue, “Do you know how lonely it gets without you? Knowing I can’t cuddle you… Kiss you… Touch you?”

You grope him where you know his weak point is while leaning up to scrape your teeth against his earlobe. His hips lift of their own accord as he instinctively searches for more, his grip on the wheel tightening as he squeezes your thigh in his big hands.

You hide your smile as he thickens under your palm. And smile wider at the growl in his voice as he orders, “Behave.”

“Am I breaking any rules, sir?” With your lips at his ear, every needy breath against him has Scott tensing in response.

Your shorts ride up — and so does his hand, until he’s close enough that you can grind your clothed heat into him. It’s just a single roll of your hips, keeping pressure where you crave him, but it has you whining all the same.

“Please, I missed you so much… I miss touching you, feeling how big you are in my hands…” You drag your palm against his thick length, fully straining against his zipper now, his breath coming out heavy as you grip him. “Please, please, just let me taste you. I’ll be such a good girl, I promise. Wouldn’t I look so pretty with your cock stuffed down my throat? Sounding so pretty as I choke on you?” You whimper against him, the sound small and needy. “Please, sir?”

The combination of your fingers wrapped around him and the feel of your tongue lapping at that sweet spot on his neck has Scott groaning, the noise coming from deep in his throat. Before you can react, he presses you firmly back into your seat, keeping you pinned with his hand across your sternum while you try to fight against the distance he forces between you two.

“Behave.” His gaze meets yours, dark and heavy and no-nonsense.

Your cunt clenches at the authority in his tone, nipples peaking in response. Scott slips his palm under the fabric of your shirt, kneading your heaving chest and rolling the hardened nub between his index and thumb. You writhe at the sensation, a moan spilling out of you, until he pinches you hard enough that you gasp. Just as quick as it happens, he pulls out just enough to bring his palm down roughly against your tit.

The sting of the impact has you arching off the seat as your cry pierces the silence.

Scott presses his index to your mouth in warning as the police lights finally illuminate his truck, the accident off to the side. You’re breathing too heavy to pay attention to it beyond that, not caring about anything happening outside of this truck, and you pass by quickly without any incident.

The air is still heavy as you meet his gaze. And you can’t help when your fingers grip the sides of your shorts to bunch the material in your hands, greedily grinding into the taut seam aligned perfectly with your center.

Scott watches it all silently. “You want to be my good girl?” His fingers draw invisible lines down your thigh, spreading your legs apart with just a touch. You comply easily, nodding as he smooths his hand along your skin and ignites a fire inside you. “Then fucking act like one.”

There’s no warning when he slaps your pussy hard, the denim digging painfully into you. Your hands fly out to grip whatever you can as your hips stir against the pain, crying out as another smack sounds, punishing your disobedience.

And still, you can’t help but whine out for him. “But I need you! I’ve been so, so good this whole time, I swear. Even when you told me not to touch, even when I wanted to so badly— I listened, I swear I did.” Pouting over at Scott, you whimper. “Please, I promise.”

“Go on. Keep it up. Do you think you’re listening now?” His hand tightens to a fist as he rests it hard against the center divider. His gaze pings to the time display on the dashboard, then to you. “The more you misbehave, the longer you wait. Was a week too short, honey? Do we need to extend it to two? Three? Can you even wait that long without disobeying me again?”

You can barely answer, only whimpering out as you press yourself into his arm, careening out of the seat. His hand clasps hard around your wrist when you reach for his zipper again, cutting off whatever noise is in your throat with a low growl.

“If I have to pull over,” he grits out, looking you dead in the eyes, “You won’t be able to walk for a week.”

You level his hard gaze with your own even as your heart pounds heavy, his threat thinly veiled as his grip tightens around your wrist.

And you swear you don’t mean to, but the words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them. “Can you go that long without fucking me? If I can’t touch, neither can you. Not a kiss, not a hug, I won’t even let you fuck my mouth!”

As your frustration boils over, you breathe raggedly against yourself, fighting to rip your hand out of his strong grasp. He’s quiet as he watches you, the look in his eyes betraying nothing that simmers underneath the surface.

Calmly, too calmly, he continues driving, following the road as the dark trees pass you by. When he moves off the pavement to turn down a dirt road, your heart flies to your throat.

“What are you doing?” You squeak, looking behind you as if expecting anyone else to follow, but it’s just you on the solitary single lane, his tires crunching on the dirt road. “Scott?”

His mouth stays shut, turning into a clearing of trees. You usually love the outdoors, but the forest around you looks foreboding and eerie, the trees looming large overhead. You glance out the window to the night sky, but there’s not even a twinkle of starlight here. Just inky black nothingness.

He shuts the engine off, taking the headlights with it.

You think you stop breathing.

“Get in the back.” His order is quiet against the silence but travels along your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “Now.”

As much as you want to protest, the words catch in your throat, refusing to form. Instead, you wordlessly climb over the center divider, dropping his zip ties into the cupholder with a deliberate clink. Your bags, shoved angrily into the back when he’d asked you to pack up, tumble to the floor, landing in a haphazard pile as you settle into the backseat.

The sudden darkness engulfs you, your eyes straining to adjust to the dim light. You can barely make out Scott’s silhouette, his intense gaze fixed on you before he opens his door with a determined click.

Silently, Scott slips out of the driver’s seat, the slam of each door echoing through the night like a final verdict. You hold your breath as he rounds the truck, each crunch of his boots against the twigs and leaves sounding louder than meant to be. The backseat door opens, and he slides in beside you, the leather creaking softly under his weight.

You find your breath again when his hand, warm and steady, smooths around your ankle, his touch both grounding and possessive. He makes room for himself, his presence filling the confined space with an electric charge. The air grows thick with anticipation as you sit there, the darkness around you deepening, your heart pounding in your chest.

Scott’s fingers trail up your leg with deliberate slowness, each movement precise and controlled. His eyes never leave yours, the intensity of his gaze holding you hostage. “You didn’t think I’d let you off that easily, did you?” he murmurs, his voice low and commanding, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your eyes dart to either side of you, searching for some sort of escape. But it was too dark outside to see, the woods maybe terrified you a little bit without Scott by your side, and even if he chased after you — and you weren’t bratty enough to do that — you had absolutely no idea how to get back to a road, let alone the road.

And, well, you didn’t really want to get away from him. Just the punishment you knew he would dole out for your disobedience.

Still—

“I thought we had to get back to the city,” you squeak out, voice trembling against your better efforts as you try to plead your case to deaf ears, “Riggs– Riggs said you needed to be back, right? And you know how far my place is from your office, and—”

“We have time for this,” Scott interrupts, his voice firm, a low rumble that leaves no room for argument. He presses his index to the pout of your mouth, silencing you. It sends a jolt of electricity through you, your breath hitching as you squirm under his grip, eyes wide and pleading.

If you were a deer in headlights, Scott was a hunter. And he was a damn good hunter.

Scott’s beautiful mouth curves into a grin, his eyes darkening with a hint of amusement. He leans in closer, his presence overwhelming, the scent of leather and the outdoors mingling with his intoxicating scent. The tension in the air thickens, every sound amplified by the stillness of the night. The rustling leaves outside, the distant hoot of an owl, even the faint hum of the truck’s cooling engine — all seem to echo the pulsing beat of your heart.

You can feel the rough texture of his jeans against your skin as he shifts, making himself comfortable, his body pressing against yours in the confined space. His hand, warm and commanding, moves from your mouth to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your lips.

“You’re not going anywhere until I say so,” he states, his eyes gleaming, all possession and affection. His words wrap around you like a promise, binding you to this moment, to him.

You swallow hard, your throat dry, the gravity of everything sinking in. Scott’s eyes lock onto yours, a silent command for your complete attention. His other hand slides down your arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake, before settling on your waist, pulling you even closer.

“Relax,” he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. “You’re safe with me.”

Your lashes flutter as a noise sounds in the back of your throat, caught between a plea and a whimper. You trusted Scott more than anything, and knew, without question, without fear, that he would never do anything you didn’t want.

And god, you wanted him bad enough that it ached.

“I need you to understand a few things, honey,” Scott continues, his voice still that deadly calm, his finger dragging slowly down your chin, tracing a deliberate path down the column of your throat. “I can tolerate you being upset. I’m not happy about it, either, despite what you might think.”

He pauses for a moment, letting his gaze lock onto yours, his eyes dark and unwavering. “But what I won’t tolerate,” he says, his tone sharpening as he closes his hand around your throat with a possessive grip, “is your disrespect.”

“But—”

“Shut up.” Scott’s voice is a low, dangerous growl as he tightens his hold on you, his thumb pressing firmly into your pulse. The pressure is confident and calculated — the kind of control that comes from having done this countless times before. “I’m not done.”

Defiance bubbles up and fights Scott at every turn, and despite the way you wriggle under him, your eyes grow hazy with need at the feel of his hand around your throat. God, you knew exactly what those hands were capable of; sweet, delicious torture, doling punishment and reward with equal passion. “But—”

“Why can you never fucking listen?” His voice drops to a growl that vibrates against your ear, his body shifting so that his weight presses down on you. You whimper at the added pressure, your fingers instinctively fisting the fabric of his shirt, trying to hold onto something solid.

Scott notices. With a swift motion, he knocks your wrists away, gripping both of them together with a firm, unyielding hold. When he pins them above your head, possessive and commanding, you can’t help but moan, growing pliant under his weight.

“Maybe I do need to remind you of my rules,” he says, his voice a dangerous purr, “since you seem to like breaking them.”

He leans in closer, his breath warm against your cheek. Every word is low and steady, completely in control. “You’re going to pay attention now, aren’t you? You’re going to listen to every word I say.”

Your pulse races under his thumb, the pressure making it difficult to focus on anything other than the commanding presence of his body pressed against yours. The conflicting emotions — fear, need, frustration — swirl together, drawing the breath from your lungs.

Scott’s eyes meet yours again, the dark intensity he’d first set on you softening slightly. “Do you trust me?” He asks, his voice barely more than a whisper, carrying with it both a challenge and an invitation.

“Yes, sir,” you breathe. Always.

“Good.” He presses a tender kiss to your temple and cheek, nudging his nose into the curve of your shoulder and kissing the column of your throat. Your body responds in kind, arching up into his generosity, the calm before the storm, as he slowly releases his hold on you. One tap against your wrist is a silent order to keep them there, and you thread your fingers together, looping them into the door grip as he kisses his way back up to your mouth. “Because you’re going to hate me tonight.”

You want to tell him that such a thing is impossible — there was nothing Scott could do that would make you hate him, no matter how much of a pain in the ass he was sometimes — but he doesn’t give you a chance to speak. Lifting you up, or at least as much as he can in the truck with his hulking size, Scott draws a hand around the curve of your waist, pushing his jacket aside to expose more of you.

“Take this off.” He orders. His expression melts back into one of superiority, one you’re all too familiar with, and you try not to pout when he continues with, “I changed my mind. I want it back.”

“Want what back?” You hum, fingers twitching. You debate the pros and cons of pointing out that you can’t take off his jacket with your hands still pinned in place, but bite your lip instead. You were already pushing the envelope — a lot — by feigning innocence.

“You know what.” Sensing that you’re still… sort of… listening, Scott, taps your wrist twice, freeing you of your position. Under his tone, your fingers close around the material of his comfortable clothing, lifting to slip it fully off your frame. You drop it next to your stuff with your eyes trained on his. “When I’m convinced you can behave, I’ll consider giving it back.”

That snaps your mouth shut. Pressing your lips together, you nod as you place your hands back in their previous position, the only tell that he’s satisfied by your change of heart being a slight twitch of a smile.

“I didn’t say you were done,” he drags his gaze along the length of you, his touch following where his eyes roam until he hooks a finger around the belt loop of your shorts. “Take these off, too, and turn around.”

Electricity charges through you at the command in his voice. Your movements are slow, careful, as you try not to bump into anything as you slide out from under him and remove your shirt. Your shorts follow, but he stops you as you hook your thumbs under the waist of your panties, both of his large hands sliding on your hips to face you opposite him.

He’s massive against you, your back pressing against his chest as his hands roam freely, trailing up the length of you and then down your arms to place your hands back in their previous position, fingers curling around yours in a silent gesture. And then his touch returns, calloused fingertips dragging over every spot of your soft skin, cupping your breast in his hand as he sighs against your neck.

You feel the hard length of him straining against his jeans as he pulls you to him, every caress coaxing a fire in you. Even though you want nothing more than to touch him, to take him into your hands, he has you caught. You really wanted that jacket.

And you hated disappointing him.

His touch wanders to your ass, squeezing the flesh in his hand before he smooths a hand up your spine, signaling for you to bend over. You comply with shallow breaths, the warmth of him missing when he puts even more space between you.

“How many times do you think you disobeyed me tonight, honey?” He asks, the question making your heart stutter. He continues to knead your skin, but with your angle, you can’t see anything happening behind you. “I’ll let you guess.”

You try to think back, but everything is hazy now. When you got in these moods — which was more often than not — you had a hard time telling which rules were broken and which weren’t, because, well, you tended to do it a lot. And you knew Scott well enough by now that even if you guessed any number, it wouldn’t be specific. It wouldn’t be right. Guess lower, and he’d add more. Guess higher, and he’d use your number, then remind you of the true one after it was all said and done.

A gasp escapes from you as your eyes flutter shut. Fuck. “I– I don’t know, sir.”

If he’s surprised, he doesn’t let it show. Instead, he just hums, adjusting the twisted straps of your underwear higher up on your hips. “Thirty-two times.” He lets that sit heavy in the air for a moment, your breath stalling in your throat. “You know what happens when it gets that high, honey.”

“You use the belt,” you whisper, the words barely audible.

Scott nods. “Mhm. I use the belt.” The soft, metallic clink of his buckle coming undone is followed by a steady hand against your hip, smoothing circles along your skin as you begin to tremble in anticipation. “Shhh. You know the rules. Count.”

The first point of contact is always the worst. He lets the moment play out, your body tensing and easing as you wait for any sign that it’s coming, but he gives no indication when he stops touching you. And then the sharp sting as leather meets your rear, the folded-over halves biting into you with practiced efficiency.

Your eyes squeeze shut, fingers tightening around the handle as you gasp out, “One.”

By the end, your muscles are taut and your backside is red and flaming, your whimpers spilling freely from your mouth. It takes more effort than you’d like to admit to hold yourself up, trembling with exertion. Scott rubs his hand along your curves, having given equal attention to both cheeks, a content noise sounding in the back of his throat as you still careen toward him.

“Last one, honey. You’re doing so good.” He praises quietly, the only encouragement you need as his belt goes sailing toward you again, leaving another welt in its wake.

“Thirty-two!” Escaping through gritted teeth, you jerk forward with the impact, breathing hard and heavy when you hear the clink of his belt falling to the floor.

Scott taps twice along your stomach as he brings you up to his chest, careful to leave space between you as he smooths over your sore muscles, easing the pain. He presses kisses along your throat, your shoulder, letting you shake against him as you lulls you down from the high, every touch soft and affectionate. “That’s it, I know… Shhh… Did so good for me, honey…”

Each sweet nothing brings you down, continuing to press kisses against your skin until your breathing evens out. Scott sets his hands to your hips, holding you firmly, nudging the space just behind your ear.

“If you just listened, I wouldn’t have to punish you.” He reminds, letting your hands drift over his. Despite the softness of his tone, you still catch the authority seeping through every word, and you know it’s far from over. “I don’t like how you spoke to me today, honey.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” you breathe, meaning them truthfully. Scott presses another kiss to your skin in acknowledgment. “I was just upset. I wanted to spend this weekend with you, and—”

“Am I not making this time now?” He questions, cutting you off. When his touch wanders between your thighs, fingers circling your clothed clit, soaked despite his brutal treatment, he groans against you. “What was it you said earlier… That I couldn’t touch you? That you wouldn’t let me?”

Vaguely, through your hazy mind, you remember saying that. But you keep your mouth shut, quiet little noises escaping as he continues to please you, easing away the pain he’d caused. Your desire for him, so neglected because of his orders, coils deep inside you as he recites your perfect tempo — having spent hours exploring, learning, and committing what you enjoyed to memory.

“Let’s make one thing abundantly clear,” he continues. “Every part of you is mine to touch, spank, suck, lick, and fuck as I please. Any time. Any day. Any place. Those are the rules you agreed to. If I want you just like this…” Adding pressure, he holds you up as your knees buckle against him, “I will, for as long as I want. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Your words come out shaky, breath hitching with every skilled circle of his fingers. “I understand, sir.”

“Then show me you understand.” Within a second his touch is gone, leaving you delirious as you search for him. You hear the rustle of fabric behind you, twisting to watch him slip off his shirt, then ease himself down on the backseat with a foot firmly planted on the floor. His fingers hover over the button on his jeans, flipping it open as his dark gaze trains on you. “Come here.”

You comply immediately, drawing forward as his hand slips in your hair. Scott pushes down the restricting fabric, slipping his hand into his black briefs, freeing himself from his jeans. Your mouth waters at the sight of him, thick and veiny and dripping with precum, his fist stroking himself as he holds you there, coating his length with his desire.

“Look what you do to me,” he whispers, drinking in every shallow breath, the way your eyes remain fixed on his hand, how your hips stir with every twist like you imagining yourself riding him. “Even when you’re a fucking brat, I can’t get enough of you, honey. Always so fucking hard for you. You have no idea…” He releases himself to cup your chin, spreading himself over the swell of your mouth. You greedily taste what he offers, tongue lapping at him before sucking on the tip of his thumb. “I’d spend an eternity inside you if I could.”

Those words — the claim, the rare admission — makes your heart somersault in your chest.

Without waiting for his command, you crawl between his legs and sink to draw your hand along his jean-clad thigh, a silent plea echoing in your eyes. As he wets his lips, you grip his length in your hand, his girth barely allowing you to wrap fully around him. Scott’s breath hitches as you stroke him exactly how he prefers, your hand sinking lower with each slow, deliberate movement.

He’s hot and heavy in your hand, the tip of his cock as pink as his lips, and you pay special attention to it, thumb smoothing along the sensitive underside of him. The soft action has his hips bucking up into your touch, breath hissing between his teeth as he wraps your hair around his fist.

No matter how many times you were in this position, nothing changed how exhilarating it was to have brief a moment of power over him.

When you move to take him into your mouth, your tongue flat and eager, Scott wraps his fingers around your throat, that playful glint in his eyes replacing quickly with hellish intent.

“Did I tell you that you could touch?” He murmurs, releasing his grip on your hair to pluck your hand off him.

You want to point out that he didn’t seem to have a problem with that when he’d been half-thrusting into your hand, but the look in his eyes silences the retort on your lips. So you let him grip your wrist, and your throat, sure he can feel the heavy pound of your pulse as you whimper at the interruption.

“I just want a little taste,” you plead, jutting your bottom lip out and batting your thick lashes up at him through a heavy-lidded gaze.

Scott just shakes his head. And you feel the coil of defiance begin again.

“Don’t you want my tongue on you, sir? Licking up every thick inch of you? Seeing how much I can take in my hot little mouth?” You know you’re pushing it with how his grip on your wrist tightens, but fuck, you needed to feel him, to touch him, especially after he’d denied you the pleasure of it for so long.

You shift so your free hand wraps around his shaft again. Scott grunts as he watches you play with him, your small hand moving effortlessly along his girth. With both his hands occupied, he has nothing to stop you from doing what you want, what you need, as your gaze flickers down to openly admire his masculinity. “Don’t I look so pretty when I choke on you, baby?”

Despite how his gaze darkens and he twitches in your hand, Scott releases your wrist enough to rest his hand on the edge of the backseat, his brow raising. “You’d look prettier if you listened, sweetheart.”

The condescending nickname rolls through you, your face twisting in disgust at it — he knew you hated it, knew it reminded you of the old men who often tried to make passes at you. It disgusts you enough that you release him from your grip, watching a smile slowly spread on his face.

“I thought I told you not to call me that,” you whisper, not trusting your voice to sound weak with his fist still around you.

“And I thought I told you to listen, but you don’t seem to be doing a good job of that even after the belt.” He shifts his grip from the front of your neck to the back of it, pulling you closer. “What’s my name?”

You hesitate at how hard his gaze is trained on you. “Sir.”

He nods. “And what did you call me earlier?”

Oh. As the dots connect, realization flickering across your features, Scott’s eyes mirror your understanding. He doesn’t give you a chance to say it, continuing, “Until you can learn to listen, you don’t get to cum until I say so.”

You wait for a day, an end time, something that’ll make counting the days at least a little worthwhile — but it never comes. Instead, he just stares at you, waiting for you to defy him again, waiting for you to open your mouth, to push back. But his fingers twitch like he’s going to reach for his belt again, and the thought of that on your already raw backside makes a whimper escape.

“I understand, sir.”

His gaze softens for a moment — and a small part of you hopes that he changes his mind, that he’ll take it back… But Scott was never that type of man. Once something was final, it was final. No amount of begging or pleading could win your case.

He cups your face in his hands like he knows what he’s asking may push you past your breaking point. Never in the months you’ve been together has he implemented something indefinitely, but you’ve never pushed back this much. When his mouth roams over yours, gentle given the circumstances, you taste the sharp spearmint of his gum as his tongue explores you, soothing your whimpers and whines until you’re somewhat relaxed under his touch.

“Are you going to be a good girl if I let you blow me, honey?” He asks, lips ghosting over your mouth, your jaw, pressing a kiss against the column of your throat. You nod, not trusting your voice. “I mean it. No whining. No pleading. No biting.” His gaze flickers up to yours as a memory passes through both of you, your cheeks heating up, caught. He knew you too fucking well. “If I want you to choke on me, you’re going to choke. If I want you to wrap those pretty lips around my head, you will. And if I want your mouth not on me at all…”

“I’ll listen, sir,” you promise, breathless, squirming with need.

Scott’s eyes flash with approval, pressing one more kiss to your mouth before he settles back down against the leather. You follow, slow, cautious, your hands pressing into his thighs as he grips himself.

And when you wrap your lips around him, everything else fades away. You take him at his pace, slower than you would prefer but dutifully obeying his silent instructions, your hair coiled around his fist. The taste of him on your tongue has your eyes glazing over with desire, flickering up to watch him watch you, your head bobbing around his length, spit sliding down his shaft as he makes you take him deeper, deeper, until he’s hitting the back of your throat and there’s still inches between you.

Scott groans as he pushes you further, trained on how your body instinctively fights him, taking his cock entirely in your mouth when your nose brushes the soft skin of his abdomen. Your core drips with need, soaking your panties, at the guttural sound that escapes him: all masculine and intoxicating. You crave more of it, more of his approval, more of him — but he pulls you off with a pop, a trail of saliva traveling from his swollen head to your mouth, before doing it again and again, each time longer than the last.

“So fucking good,” he pants, pulling you off him again, his eyes blown as you suck on his tip like a lollipop.

Your tongue swirls around his head, wrapping your hands around the rest of him that you don’t swallow, little moans escaping.

And then he’s pressing you back down again, his grip holding you stationary as he thrusts into you like he can’t help himself, every action powerful and erotic as the sound of your throat taking his vigorous pace fills the truck. As he fucks your mouth, you knead your breast in your hand, pinching hard at your nipple when the desire to slip your hand between your thighs nearly overcomes you.

Scott watches it all with a growing arousal, his voice deep as he groans. “Fuck, honey, just like that. Want you to remember this next time you think of talking back,” he says, eyes closing briefly at how good you feel. “So fucking perfect with my cock down your throat. Does that make you hot, honey? Wanna rub that fucking clit while I fuck your face?”

You moan around him in response, something between a yes and a please that sounds more muffled than an actual word. Every time you take him deeper you feel that hot flash of aching desire pulse through you, your blood hot, sure that even through your panties you were dripping all over his leather seats.

The thought has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Scott’s growls turn positively primal as he pulls you off. “Keep making that face and I’m gonna cum right down that pretty throat.” He lifts enough to bring you to your knees, wrapping an arm around you to pull you flush against him as he drags his heavy touch along your naked frame. “You don’t want that, do you, honey? Fuck, I can smell how soaked you are for me.”

He wastes no time as he slips his hand beneath your panties, fingers sliding easily between your slicked folds as he groans. “My dirty girl. You like my filthy fucking mouth, honey, is that it?” Scott pushes a finger inside you, your body arching up into his as you nod, a breathy noise escaping. “Like when I tell you how good you feel? How fucking hard it gets me? How I dream about fucking you every single night when I’m away?”

God, yes. You assumed — but never asked — about what he thought when he couldn’t be near you, but the confirmation that you were on his mind just as much as he was on yours makes you clench around his finger.

“I’m gonna taste you,” Scott promises, his voice ragged. “And then I’m gonna fuck you so hard they’ll hear you in the city.”

It’s all the warning you get before he presses you down onto the seat, his mouth capturing yours as he settles atop you. Your body is pliant underneath his, gripping every inch of him, while he trails his mouth along your soft skin. Fuck, you felt like heaven to him — so smooth to his calloused hands.

And you made the prettiest noises when his mouth descended on your nipple, sucking and flicking at the hardened nub before giving equal attention to the other, all too aware of how your hips roll helplessly as he kisses his way down your tummy.

“I love how desperate you get,” he groans, hooking his fingers under the waistband of your panties, drawing them down your legs. He nudges your legs apart with his nose, dragging his teeth along the sensitive skin of your thigh. Thick fingers spread your folds apart as he takes you in, the touch making you reach for something to hold onto.

“Please,” you whine, running your fingertips along his shoulder, propping yourself up as he sucked a possessive mark into your thigh. Scott just hums, moving to the other, relishing in the sharp intake of breath as he nips at you. “Please make me feel good, sir?”

“You gonna be good for me?” He asks again, blue eyes flicking up to meet yours, his question serious as he nears the apex of your thighs.

You nod, tongue darting out between your lips as his focus momentarily breaks, darting down to watch how his fingers slide effortlessly over you, teasing your clit. “I’ll be good, sir, I swear.” Just as long as he keeps touching you like that, you’ll agree to anything.

Scott hums, playing with you for long enough that you think he’ll tease you into oblivion. But then his tongue darts out. licking a hot stripe up your center, and he groans, and you… You have just enough time to fall back to seat before his mouth is upon you.

The way he claims you with his tongue makes the wait worth it. Scott isn’t shy about feasting on you, his wet fingers slipping to spread your thighs further apart for him, lapping at you like your pussy is a melting ice cream cone on a hot summer day. Every swirl of his tongue, every flick against your clit, every long drag that has you gasping for breath, your mouth falling open while he readjusts his grip to keep you steady.

Scott groans as he collects your desire on his tongue, pulling back enough to revel at how spread open you are for him. He spits, the lewd action making your head spin, before his fingers rub it through your folds, circling your entrance while his other reaches up to knead your breast.

“I wish we had hours for this.” The admission is low in his voice, ragged from claiming you, pressing a kiss to your thigh as you try to still your hips against his torturous fingers. “Just as sweet as I remember, honey. Better. Fuck, you taste so…”

He doesn’t finish his thought, descending upon you again as his mouth attaches to your clit. You cry out at the special attention he gives it, teasing you just right, his tongue swirling and flicking and lips closing around the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your hips move on their own accord, fingers digging into his brown curls as you grind in time with his tongue. Scott gasps as his touch abandons you to stroke himself, the angle uncomfortable in the cramped space of his backseat.

You clamp down on your bottom lip when your orgasm builds faster than you expect it to, hoping to stifle the increase of noise as he brings you closer and closer. Scott just keeps his brutal pace, those dark blue eyes drinking in the sight of you.

“Sir—” Your breath comes out hot when he groans, the vibrations of it nearly toppling you over the edge. You want so desperately to listen, fighting the way he coaxes it quicker, something heady and mischievous sparkling in those eyes, but it’s too much, he’s too much, that invisible rubber band pulling tighter and tighter, your control slipping, the wet sounds of his tongue dragging over your heat too much to bear—

You scream out as Scott pulls away entirely from you, all that tension coiling tight with nowhere to release, and watch helplessly as his expression flickers somewhere between smug and disappointed. You tremble against the loss, little twitches that give away how close you were from disobedience, your whine high and keening.

“Oh, honey, were you close?” Scott coos, his tone full of condescension as he rests his cheek on your thigh, an evil, wicked, vile grin teasing the corners of his mouth. You glare at the dimple in his cheek. “You think I’m dumb enough to not know when you are? That your pussy doesn’t tell me when you’re trying to be quiet? I know all your tells, honey. Every. Single. One.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to reply, his palm coming down hard against your open heat. The slap has you spiraling, a cry escaping you as your back arches up off the leather, the pain lingering uncomfortably as your ass grinds against the seat. Scott wastes no time crawling up your body, swallowing all your pitiful noises as you taste yourself on his tongue.

His teeth sink into your bottom lip as he pulls away. “Not tonight, honey.”

Your heart seizes in your chest at the confirmation — having suspected it, but half-hoping that he’d forgive your past sins if you were good enough. Scott just grins, lifting so all his weight isn’t settled atop you, running his hands down the still-twitching frame of your body, pushing his jeans down further as one hand drags along your hip.

“Please?” You beg, taking his face in your hands, blinking big doe eyes up at him. “I can’t—”

“You can.” His confidence in you is unwavering, pausing his movements to give you his undivided attention. One kiss, two, three, to the corner of your mouth, each softer than the last, bringing you down from a high he stole away. “We’ll test those limits properly another time. I have so many ideas…” He trails off with a groan, seeming to think better of listing all the ways he could make you bend to his will. “But you can. And you will.”

A whimper escapes at the finality, but you manage a weak nod. It’s all the encouragement Scott needs to draw your leg around his hip, slotting himself between your parted legs. The weight of him dragging through your slicked folds presses a gasp into his shoulder, your arms sliding around his broad frame.

And then he’s sinking into you, stealing the breath from your lungs as your taut body stretches to accommodate his size.

He’s massive — and delicious and throbbing and every other perfect word in the dictionary as you forget how to breathe, how to think, the more he buries himself inside you. You hear his strangled moan against your neck as your head tosses back, pulling him closer, hissing as he draws back just to press right back into you.

He works you just like that for what feels like hours, pushing and pulling, slow as he presses kisses to your skin, holding your hips steady. You know he’s holding himself back, that he’s letting your body get used to him after so long apart, after little more than a press of his fingers and tongue at your entrance. It makes your heart flutter in your chest — he could have fucked his way ruthlessly through you and you would’ve taken every second of it just the same, but the fact that he pauses to take his time now, to lengthen a moment that he shouldn’t be having in the first place…

God. You loved him.

You both moan as he bottoms out inside you, his hips driving forward just a little further on instinct. “Fucking missed this,” Scott pants, careful as he slides a palm under you, lifting your ass off the seat to thrust inside you again. Your gentle touch trails across his broad shoulders and down his arms, a silent message for him to keep going.

And then he fucks you like he promised.

It’s a combination of everything: the time apart, the time you had left, how neither of you could seem to get close enough to each other. He splits you apart and brings you back together with every snap of his hips, filling you exactly how you need, gasping against each other as you angle up to meet him halfway.

Your mouth presses feverishly to his, the sound of your desperate moans filling the small space against the way your body greedily accepts his. Scott stalls his tempo just enough to pull away, sliding his hands back to your hips to lift you onto him before returning to his brutal pace, the new angle giving you a perfect view of his cock stretching you out.

“Being so good for me,” Scott hums, pleased, his fingers splaying over your belly as he ruts deeper into you. The intensity of it, of him, makes you blink back stars as his heady gaze is trained on yours, grabbing onto him as he continues, “Feels so fucking good, honey, fuck.“

Your eyes slip down to watch as he slides in you, the sight of him hard and coated with your arousal making you moan. Scott grips the back of your neck to keep you there, your body curled up into whatever mold he desires, pressing your knee back to the cushion as he shifts himself closer.

“Dirty fucking girl, you like that?” Scott’s voice turns guttural with how you tighten around him, your pretty moans like music to his ears, “Like watching your little pussy take my cock? Seeing how fucking good I stretch you out?”

You nod, another moan spilling from your mouth, only to whimper when he slides fully out of you. The crude smack of his cock against your clit only makes you hotter, your skin on fire as he plays with you, always in control. “Tell me,” he groans, teasing as he grinds himself against you. “Let me hear you, honey.”

“I love it,” you pant, unable to tear your gaze away from his thick length. You want desperately to reach down and press him where you crave him most, but you resist, fingers curling into fists at his sides as you plead, “Please fill me up, sir, I need it. Need you to fuck me, need you to claim me, need you to make this little pussy all fucking yours, please.”

It’s all Scott needs to press into you again, his pace hard and demanding with your wishes. He slides an arm underneath you to hold you steady, his teeth leaving marks on your neck, your shoulder, your collar, pressing moans into your skin with every rough piston of his hips, the sound of skin on skin, and your hard, labored breathing filling the space. And then he’s flipping you over, your hands and knees pressing into the leather as you push back against him, delirious with the new angle as he tugs you up, your back to his chest.

The possessive, strong grip on your waist slides up to knead your breast while he thrusts into you from behind, his lips at your ear, growling every profanity under the sun.

“This what you want, honey?” His hips snap hard into you, the contact against your sensitive ass making your eyes roll back into your head. The mix of the pleasure and the pain he gives you is unlike anything else you’ve ever felt. Scott always finds the perfect balance, his hand sliding between your thighs to tease your clit, your body wanton against him. “Being claimed? Owning you completely?” At your answering moan, he grins. “Could you handle it? Being mine in every way?”

“Yes,” you moan, trying in vain not to swirl your hips and failing, searching for more while he rolls your nipple between his fingers. “I’m already yours, sir.”

“Yeah, honey, I feel it.” They come out strangled as you clench around him, your body responding eagerly to every touch. “So sweet right now, aren’t you? Wanna cum so badly, don’t you?” You whimper out as he angles himself deeper inside you, hitting that spongey spot in time with his ministrations. It’s hard to breathe, hard to think, as he finds the perfect pace to drive you closer to the edge, dangling just on the precipice of release. “Bet you’d agree to anything right now just to cum, wouldn’t you, honey?”

Head tossing back against his shoulder, you dig your nails into his jeans where you hold him to you, looking at but not seeing the reflection of how he commands you, his mouth drawing along your neck. “Please,” you beg, trembling with the exertion of holding yourself together. “Scott— Sir, please, I’m so close—”

“I know.” Cooed, mockingly, along the column of your throat, he ceases every torturous move as he stills inside of you, his hands quick to press your hips down against his. The sudden lack of attention makes you cry out, chest heaving, as he steals your orgasm away again, the frustration and desire mixing until you’re growling through clenched teeth.

Scott just grins, watching it all with a gleeful expression, that dark look swirling in his eyes as he doesn’t dare move an inch. “You can be as nice as you want, honey,” He presses a patronizing kiss to your shoulder, that alone having you twitching against him, small little sounds that you can’t control escaping as he toys with your fraying edges. “I’m still not letting you cum tonight.”

“But—” You think better against talking back, clamping your mouth shut as you whimper again. “When?”

“When you’ve earned it.” Scott slides his hands over your body, dragging along your peaked nipples, taking both breasts in his large hands and groaning as he touches you. “You want to earn it, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you gasp automatically, your hands fisting handfuls of his brown locks as he sucks another possessive mark on you. “Please, sir.”

“How far would you go?” His voice carries that inquisitive tone that speaks of danger, the kind that has your cunt fluttering around him in response. He grunts against you at the sensation, still unmoving, just thick and hard and throbbing in you enough to leave your mind reeling. Your breath stalls when his touch wanders down to press at your belly. “Would you let me cum inside you?”

Every thought in your brain scatters at those words, wanting and needing before you can even voice it. He’s never asked; always pulling out to paint your chest, your back, your face. But the way he asks, his voice quiet yet desperate, the unmistakable edge to it that tells you he’s been thinking about it for a while, waiting for the right time, the right moment — suddenly his insistence on if you’d brought your birth control comes to the front of your mind, and you know. Know he’s been planning this. That if it weren’t here, it would’ve been sometime this weekend.

Scott is patient as he lets it all sink in, studying you, waiting for a shift of an expression, or your body responding against his desires. Something dark awakens in him at your whimper of approval.

“You’d look so fucking pretty like that,” he continues, slowly resuming his pace, much slower now than it was before, as he groans every fantasy he’s dreamt of for the past week into you. “So full of my cum… It wouldn’t all fit, would it, honey? But you’d beg me, wouldn’t you? Beg me to fuck it deeper in your sweet cunt?” Your breath labors as he grunts out, teeth sinking into your skin. “Beg me to put a baby in you?”

Fuck, yes.

You writhe against him with every word out of his mouth, your moans spilling freely as you nod, desperate, agreeable, unaware of how much he wanted it, obsessed about it. How the sight of you in his clothes made him want to put a ring on your finger, how every time you came over to his place he had to fight to ask you to move in, how the idea of your belly swollen with his child made him so horny he couldn’t think about anything else some days, how the thought of you and forever were so intertwined to him now that he couldn’t imagine anyone else to spend the rest of his life with.

All sappy, sentimental things that he didn’t dare voice, locked tight between his teeth, letting only a little spill out.

The need to own you, to claim you, was overwhelming. Scott wanted nothing more than to fuck you hard enough to make your brain flicker off until you couldn’t even speak, until you were completely at his mercy, until every drop of him was spent inside you. Possession and desire bleed into one — just waiting, aching, throbbing, bruisingly so, for your voiced consent.

“I need it,” you finally choke out, trembling, your voice utterly broken. “Please give it to me, sir? Please, please, pretty please?”

Scott moans, long and deep and loud, as he buries his face in the curve of your neck. And then he’s pounding into you, every muscle of his body pulled tight as you wrap around him like velvet perfection, his grip hard and unyielding against your hips as every rough slam of his hips into yours sends your body jolting forward. Your hand slaps to the window in front of you, leaving prints against the foggy glass, and he follows greedily, pressing his weight into you as he spreads your thighs further apart with a growl, fucking you into the seats.

Your orgasm painfully lingers, every needy moan spilling from your mouth only driving him further into you, wild with need, no longer the controlled man you knew but something more animalistic, primal.

“Fucking take it just like that,” he growls, not even sounding human, every word gritted through his teeth as you feel every thick inch of him around your slick walls, his hand slotted between your thighs to part your folds, sinking deeper until there’s no space left. “F-fuck, that’s so fucking— Perfect, honey, fuck— Pussy’s fucking made for me—”

He’s close — you can feel it in the way his thrusts grow uneven as he chases his release, the way he roughly grasps your chin to kiss you, sloppy and more tongue than lips, how his fingers leave Scott-shaped bruises wherever he grips you, his blunt nails biting into your hip, your sides, your breasts as he struggles for purchase. You don’t realize you’re sobbing in pleasure until he wipes your tears away, until he praises how good you’re being taking him like this, groaning when your body responds eagerly to his positivity.

You dance in time with him, meeting him halfway, angling your hips up just right. And you feel, rather than hear, the way Scott moans in ecstasy as he finds that perfect spot in your heat, numb to anything and everything that isn’t his thick cock pounding your weeping, used hole.

You think you cum — or maybe it’s just the last shreds of sanity leaving as Scott reaches his peak, nothing but your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he fills you with his seed, rutting up against you until it’s painful, the warmth of him spreading into you. His heart pounds against you as he slips his hand to your belly, pressing you closer, his breath hot and ragged against your skin as his hips twitch until he’s emptied out, fucking the last drops of his cum into you exactly like he’s dreamt.

And when you come down your orgasm sits uncomfortably high and untouched, a broken sob escaping you as he pulls out with a wet pop.

You feel his cum slide down your swollen cunt and flinch with sensitivity as he’s quick to collect himself on his fingers, fucking it back into you. The tension coils tightly inside of you until you’re sure you’re begging him to stop, the pleasure and pain completely overwhelming, exhausted with the effort of obeying his orders as he presses his digits into your used hole.

When you think just about to break, he stops.

And you know you’re going to kill him as he steals your release for a third time.

“Good girl,” Scott whispers, pressing kisses along your soft skin, his hands soothing every part of your twitching frame. You don’t have the strength to ask for more as he pulls you into his arms after sliding your panties back into place, letting you come down as he finds his peace in caring for you, murmuring sweet nothings while your body is pliant against him.

You nuzzle into him when you feel more in control of yourself, your heart slowing to a more steady pace. His name falls softly from your lips, your arms snaking around him to hold him close, his fingertips soft along the small of your back.

When he presses his mouth to yours, you melt into his embrace, exploring him lazily until he’s pulling away, brushing your unruly hair out of your face. “Mine.” He praises with a smile, that dark expression gone, leaving nothing but bright, shining blues you could drown in for hours. “All fucking mine. I own you.”

“Mmm,” Despite the weary in your bones, you can’t help but smile back, a giggle escaping, “Do you?”

Scott doesn’t need to slip his hand between your legs for you to get the picture, just hooks a finger along the waistband of your ruined panties. “You just let me prove it, honey.” He leans forward to kiss you again, slower this time, before pulling away with a regretful sigh when the distinctive chime of his phone goes off. “Need help getting back in your seat?”

“Already?” You whine.

“Gotta go, honey.” He taps your hip, twice. Non-negotiable. “Come on, before the bears smell you and want you for themselves.”

That has you cracking a grin. “You wouldn’t fight a bear for me?”

“What do you think the murder kit is for?” One last kiss to your mouth. “’Course I would. Just not tonight.”

You pout further, but let him grab your long-forgotten clothes off the floor, making yourself presentable again before he does the same. And when you settle back into the passenger seat as he starts the engine, you let your head rest against the window, bubbly and content and happy. Even if you know it won’t last when he has to leave.

As Scott drives through the familiar city streets, you hate the knot of apprehension that clogs your throat when your mind wanders too far about him being gone. Out on the field, anything could happen, even if it was just one of his routine visits. The people he spoke with — if he approached the wrong one, it would be so easy for them to lash out. Scott was a big man, he could take care of himself, but that didn’t stop your fears from pressing down against you.

His hand is firm on your thigh, thumb stroking soft lines in your skin as he catches your expression. And then his truck takes a turn in the opposite direction of your apartment, heading toward his house.

“Where are we going?” you ask, your voice tinged with confusion as you try to shake off your emotions.

Scott’s grip on the steering wheel tightens just a fraction, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. “My place,” he answers simply. “You’ve been up all night, and I’m not about to drop you off and leave you alone like that.”

You frown, the earlier emotions fighting to come back; you glance quickly out the window, cheeks flaming as you’re caught, hating that he’d noticed your weakness. “I’m fine, Scott. I can—”

“No,” he cuts in gently, but firmly. “You need rest. And I’ll rest better knowing you’re somewhere comfortable.” His eyes flick toward you, catching your reflection in the dim light of the street lamps. “Besides,” he adds, his voice lowering to something more intimate, “I’ve got a bed that’s been missing you.”

It’s not a request, and the way he says it makes your heart skip. You know he’s right. As much as you’d wanted to protest, the thought of sleeping alone in your own bed feels wrong, especially with the lingering warmth of his touch still buzzing under your skin.

By the time you pull into his driveway, the familiar sight of his place is almost a comfort in itself. Scott’s fingers brush over your thigh before he parks the truck, a silent reassurance. “I’ll be gone for a few days,” he murmurs, shutting off the engine, “but I want you here. I want you safe.”

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with a meaning he’s too stubborn to say out loud, but you feel it all the same. He reaches over to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb lingering on your cheek. “Let me make sure you’re okay.”

You nod, unable to find the words, so you just lean into his touch. Scott doesn’t need more than that. He’s out of the truck and rounding it to your side before you can even blink, opening your door and offering his hand.

“Come on, let’s get you inside,” he says softly, tugging you out and pulling you close against him. His arm slips around your waist as he guides you to the front door, his hold steady and reassuring.

Once inside, the warmth of his home envelops you both, and you feel the tension in your shoulders start to melt away. He’s quick to guide you to his bedroom, knowing the layout of his place better than anyone, but still taking the time to make sure you’re comfortable, handing you one of his shirts to sleep in.

As you slip under the covers, Scott pauses at the edge of the bed, eyes lingering on you. “Get some sleep,” he tells you, his voice gruff but tinged with affection. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You reach for him, and he doesn’t hesitate to slide in beside you, pulling you against his chest. For a moment, you both just lie there, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear soothing you into a drowsy haze. Scott presses a kiss to the top of your head, his hand resting protectively over your hip.

“Sleep, honey,” he murmurs, his voice the last thing you hear before sleep claims you.

In the morning, you wake to the sound of his alarm, the room still dark. Scott’s already dressed, but he hasn’t left yet. He sits on the edge of the bed, watching you with a softness in his eyes that he rarely lets show. He reaches out, brushing his fingers through your hair as you try to rustle yourself awake.

“Go back to sleep,” he says quietly, his thumb grazing your cheek. “I’ll be back in a few days. Promise.”

Before you can respond, he leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, lingering just long enough for you to feel the warmth of his lips. You smile, eyes fluttering shut as you drift back into a peaceful slumber, the last thing you feel is the comforting weight of his hand slipping from yours.

When you finally rise, well rested but achey from the night’s exertions, the sun is high in the afternoon sky and his house is empty, his truck missing from the garage. You wander into the kitchen in search of a cup of tea, pulling the kettle out from underneath his cabinet. And when the steaming mug is in your hands, settling into the breakfast nook that overlooks his backyard, your eyes fall upon his jacket, folded neatly atop all the stuff he’d unpacked while you were sleeping.

And you know he loves you as much as you love him.

#twisters #twisters x reader #scott twisters #scott twisters x reader #scott (twisters)#scott (twisters) x reader #scott miller #scott miller x reader #scott twisters x you #scott twisters x y/n #scott miller x you #*fic #**#fic: roadtrip.

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samandcolbyownme · 1 year ago

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Wet Dreams | Colby Brock

Prompt: Colby telling reader, "Were you dreaming about me again, sweetheart?"

Summary: After a night of drinking with your best friend, you guys walk to her boyfriend, Sam's house to crash, and his friend, Colby, is there. You’ve had wet dreams about him, but you don’t know that he knows until he tells you.

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, alcohol consumption, oral (f rec), biting, scratching, choking, rough/semi forceful actions, unprotected sex, creampie, [mostly cute] name calling, praising, literal filth

Word count: 3.6k | somewhat edited

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

You were feeling tipsy by the second drink, and you were drunk by the fourth.

Those double shots will do it.

"Why don't you go talk to him?" Y/f/n says nudging you out of your stare on a random guy at the bar, "You've been staring long enough." She finishes her drink, "Or is it because he kinda looks like Colby?"

Your head snaps towards her and you shake your head, laughing slightly as you feel your cheeks getting warmer, "No, no. That's not wh-"

"How long have we been friends?" She tilts her head as she looks at you, causing you to sigh, "Forever."

"Exactly. So why don't you just tell Co-"

"He doesn't like me back." You say looking down. Y/f/n leans in slightly, "Did he tell you that himself?" You shake your head, "No, bu-"

"No. No buts. You're going to get drunk, then we're going to walk to Sam's house and you-"

"Whoa, wait. We're sleeping at Sam's?" You ask knowing there's a good chance Colby will be there too, "I didn't know this."

"I told you before we came here, stop trying to find excuses not to spill your feelings for Colby." She pushes your shoulder gently, "I'm telling you, y/n. Just talk to him. You never know what might happen."

She turns to get another drunk and you sigh, thinking about what she said. You've had a huge crush on Colby, ever since Sam introduced you guys to him.

You've hung out multiple times and yeah, maybe there something there, but you're scared it's just you feeling that way.

"Here. Drink up." Y/f/n shoves a glass into your hand and turns to grab hers, pulling her phone out of her pocket to check it, "Oh. Here." She holds her phone up, taking a selfie as you smile with your cheek pressed against hers.

"Saving that." She says with a smile, "We look so drunk, but still cute! Now let's dance a little before we leave."

A little turned into two more hours of drinking and dancing, your heels hurt your feet, you're aching to get out of them, but that's not the only thing you're aching for.

Colby's smile flashes in your mind, along with the thought of his ring covered fingers dragging up and down your skin and touching you where you needed him most.

"I told Sam we'll be on our way soon, so one more drink?" She bites her lip as she looks at you, waiting for you to agree.

You think about it for a moment before letting out a sigh, "One more couldn't hurt."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

"Shut up. No that picture is atrocious." You groan as you snatch y/f/n's phone from her. You both can't walk in a straight line so save your lives, so you're bumping into each other every other minute.

"No it's cute!" She bites her lip taking her phone back, "I also may have sent this to Colby." She turns her phone and it's a, not bad at all, picture of you standing at the bar. Your dress was riding up a little too high, almost revealing your ass.

"No." You mumble out, "Tell me you didn't!"

"I did. And I'm not sorry."

You pretended to hate her for it, but that quickly vanished as you actually love her for it.

"There they are." Sam says walking out of the door, "How was it?" You both start giggling and he raises his eyebrows, "Oh, wonderful. You're both still drunk." He laughs with a sigh, "Come on. I got pizza for you guys."

"Ooh, pizza." You and your friend look at each other and laugh because you said the same thing at the same time.

"Oh, y/n." Sam says getting your attention. You look up at him, still smiling. He looks over at y/f/n and back to you, "Colby is here."

Your smile drops and your anxiety starts to race, and it's worse because you're drunk, but you play it cool, "No surprise there." You laugh slightly and walk in with your friend.

"Colby! They're here." Sam announces as he shuts the door. You turn, eyes wide, "You didn't have to announce it." You mumble through gritted teeth. He smirks and walks over to y/f/n, hugging her from behind.

Your eyes stay on them as they smile and laugh, wishing that was you and Colby.

"Well hello, hello." Colby says as he walks down the steps, "On a scale from one to ten, how drunk are we tonight?"

Colby's presence makes you nervous, you don't want to make a fool of yourself. Y/f/n giggles, "I'm at an eight right now." She looks over at me and raises her eyebrows.

You sigh and set your purse on the counter, "I'm ready for bed." You walk towards Colby to go upstairs and you avoid eye contact as you walk by him.

But you can tell his eyes are on you the whole time.

You can hear y/f/n trying to whisper but you hear everything, "I tried to talk to her, I even told her about the picture I sent to you. I don't know why-"

Her voice fades out as you walk into where she keeps her clothes. You didn't bring anything, considering you forgot you were coming to Sam's.

As your rummaging through your friends drawer of the dresser, something lands on your head and you can hear Colby trying not to laugh. You pull the shirt from your head, turning to look at him.

"Thought you'd be more comfortable in that." He smirks slightly as he crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against the door way, "If you need anything else, let me know."

His eyes move up and down your low-coverage dress and he tilts his head before walking away. You stand there, slightly dumbfounded but you roll with it.

You make your way to the bathroom, switching the shower on before stepping in. You gasp at how good the water feels on your drunk body, but you sober up a little by the time you get out. You wrap a towel around your body, peaking out before you make your way to find y/f/n.

You know on their door and you can hear Sam talking on the other side but he tells a quick, "Come in." You open the door slightly peaking your head in, "Y/f/n?"

Sam reaches over from his desk and taps her ankle, "Babe, y/n wants you." She groans as she sits up but trudges over to you, "Talk to Colby yet?"

"N-no. That's not why I'm here. I need underwear." You say quietly. She giggles slightly, fighting back saying any kind of comment, "Mhm."

She walks over, grabbing a pair from her drawer, "These are new, but they won't be after tonight." She winks and you roll your eyes, "Sure."

You pull the door shut, turning to walk back down the hall to one of the spare bedrooms and freeze when Colby walks out of the other one.

"Hey." He smiles, and god do you love his smile. You smirk slightly, giving him a low, "Hey" as you walk by him.

"Wait." He says and you stop instantly, hesitating to spin towards him, but you do, "What's up?" He steps towards you, looking down at you as he gets closer. His chest is inches away from yours and he sighs, "The dress you wore tonight, made it so fucking hard for me to not come down there and take you out of that place."

Your breath hitches and you grip your towel tighter, actually wanting him to rip it off of you, but you couldn't muster up enough confidence so you just force a small smile, "Really? Why?"

He chuckles lowly, "I think you know why." He walks down the steps, looking back at you from over his shoulder before disappearing into another room.

Why couldn't I just fucking do it, you think as you mentally beat yourself up, get over yourself, Jesus Christ.

You make your way into the room you're staying in for the night and change into the shirt Colby threw at you. You pull it up, smelling it to see if it smells like him, and it does.

You fall back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling until you eventually pass out.

"Yeah, baby. Just like that." Colby moans into your ear as he has his cock buried deep into your aching cunt.

You whimper out as his hand slides up, squeezing the sides of your neck, slowly adding pressure.

"Tell me what you want, sweetheart." His voice is low and deep, groans escape his lips with each slow thrusts into you, "C'mon baby. I need to hear it."

"Y-ou.. Colby." You whimper out, "I want you. All of you." You reach back to grab his arm but he pins it to your lower back, "Say it again." He releases the grip on your throat and slides his hand up the back of your scalp and grips a handful of hair.

"Colby." You gasp out, "Fuck, yes. Please. Please. I need you. I need yo-"

You gasp awake, sitting straight up as you look around the semi dark room. You sit in silence, trying to hear if anyone is up, if anyone heard anything from you.

You hear Sam and Colby yelling back and forth, they must be playing their games, so they must have headsets on, so they probably didn't hear you.

Or so you thought.

You swallow, wincing at how dry your throat is. You get up, slowly and quietly making your way to the door and slowly opening it. You peak your head out, looking down the empty hall before stepping out and making your way down stairs as quickly and quietly as possible.

But what you didn't know, is that Colby's door was open, just enough to see you move past.

As you're standing in the kitchen, eating a slice of cold pizza, you feel a presence move into the room and you freeze.

Please don't be Colby, you think repeatedly, please don't be Colby.

"What are you doing up?" Colby's voice flows through the room, "I thought you'd be knocked out like y/f/n is."

You shrug, "I needed a drink and then I got hungry." You glance over at his shirtless figure and back down to your glass of water before taking a big gulp.

You set your pizza crust down and lay your hands on the counter, "Well, I'm going to get back to bed." You walk around the other side of the island, but you're stopped by an arm extended over your chest, "Now hang on."

You feel cornered, but you really aren't putting up any kind of fight.You stand there, slowly looking up at him, "I hung on, can I go to-"

His bluntness cuts you off, "Were you dreaming about me again, sweetheart?"

You stand there, staring at him in a shocked and embarrassed state, "I-i, no. Why.. why would you-"

He smirks, moving his body closer to yours, "I heard you. So no need to pretend you weren't."

"You heard, what exactly?" You ask trying to see if he really knows. His hand comes up, his thumb lightly drags against your bottom lip, "my name, a few times."

He slides his hand to cup your cheek, "and some other sounds I wish I couldn't heard better."

Your breath hitches as his hands slide down your sides, "I knew you would look good in this shirt." You look down at his shirt but his hand quickly lifts your chin and his lips are on yours and you give in fully to him.

"Colby." You whimper against his lips as he wraps an arm around your waist to pull you into him, "Please."

He smirks as he leans back, "Not until you tell me what you were dreaming about." He lifts you up into the counter, "I want to know what I was doing to you in that pretty little mind of yours."

You let out a low groan as he leans in to kiss your neck slowly, "come on, baby. Be a good girl and te-"

Being called a good girl seemed to be the key.

"Can we go upstairs? I don't want anyone else hearing this." You bite your lip as you lean back and he nods, "C'mon." He slides you off the counter and your hand is still in his as he takes you upstairs into the room you're staying in.

He shuts the door and your back is instantly pressed to it, his voice is low, "Start talking, princess." He presses his lips to yours, "I want to feel you sooner than later."

He lifts you up and your legs wrap around his waist, "I was.." you breathe out as you look down at him, "dreaming about you.. and me." You run a hand through his hard hair and bite your lip, "You buried yourself in me as you choked me."

His breath hitches and he clears his throat, "Is that all?"

You shake your head and lean in to kiss him. Your lips move in sync for a couple of moments before you pull away just enough to speak, "You were telling me to beg for you basically, telling me to tell you that I needed you."

He tilts his head back, licking his lips as he walks you over to the bed, "I've dreamed of having you beg for me." He lays you down, his body perfectly still between your thighs.

"Please, Colby." You lay a hand on his cheek and he smirks, "Please what, baby?"

"Fuck me." You whisper almost inaudible, "I need you."

His lips crash onto yours, making out with you until you drag your nails down his back. "Fuck." He groans lowly as he sits up. You whimper at the loss of his touch and go to sit up, but stops you, "Just lay back, princess. Let me take care of you."

You bite your lip, lying back as you await his touch. You feel his hands slide up your legs, "You're so beautiful." He whispers, "I should have just came and got you."

He dips his head in, licking up your pussy which causes you to moan and you slap a hand over your mouth, not wanting to disturb the others.

"Mm, move that hand. I wanna hear you." Colby looks up at you and you move your hand and look down to meet his gaze. You watch him as he grips your thighs, going back to enjoying how you taste on his tongue.

"Colby.." you whine out and tangle your fingers in his hair, "Fuck, so close." You whimper and tug his hair, earning a low groan.

He slides his hand over, his middle finger rubbing circles on your clit as he whispers a low, "Cum for me, baby."

You grind your hips against his hand and mouth, moaning as you arch your back off the bed, "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

He groans as you clench around his tongue, desperate for that first orgasm. You gasp loudly as it hits, slightly twisting your body as he keeps your hips pinned down.

"Shit." You say breathless as he stands up. Your eyes move to him and you pull your bottom lip between your teeth as you watch him discard his sweats, leaving him naked.

He crawls back up, "How was I fucking you in that dream you had?" He brushes hair from your face and smirks down at you, "I just want to make it come true."

You smile and tilt your head, "You had me flipped over, ass in the air."

"Roll over." He leans up, watching as you comply with his demand, "Shit." His hands lay on your ass and he squeezes, "so fucking sexy."

You him lowly as you wiggle your hips, "Colby.. baby please.." he smiles at you calling him baby, "What do you want?"

"You." You say instantly, "You, Colby. Please.. I need to have your cock inside me." You whimper and push your hips back, "Please."

He slides his hands up your back and lightly drags his nails against your skin on the way back towards your ass. His actions send chills up your spine and you moan, "Colby.."

He lifts himself up, positioning his cock at the entrance of your needy cunt, "Keep begging, baby." He rubs the head of his cock against you before pushing in, groaning out as you clench around him, "Fuck, y/n."

His hands grip your hips tight and his eyes roll shut as his hips meet your ass, "What do you want me to do?"

"Choke me.. please." You tilt your head up and he slides his hand up around your neck, squeezing slowly, "Never pictured you to be this much of a little slut baby."

There's no hesitation when you answer him, "Only for you."

And he loved it.

His hand squeezes around your throat, hard as he starts thrusting his cock in and out, "You feel so fucking good." He groans out, "Let me hear you, baby."

You let out a moan, gripping the blankets below you as his thrusts become punishing. You feel that build up again, moaning out as you much as his hand on your throat will allow.

"Tell me what you want." He says as he lets go of your throat, "Tell me what you need from me." His hand tangles in your hair and he tilts your head back, whispering in your ear, "Do you want me to fill that pretty pussy for you?"

"Y-yes." You gasp out and push your hips back, "Yes, yesyesyes." You squeeze his cock and he groans, "Fuck, not gunna last much longer, princess." He kisses the back of your shoulder, biting and sucky a hicky onto your skin, "You sure you want that?"

You moan, "Colby, yes. I need you to cum in my pussy."

He moans at your words, thrusting his cock in and out of you slowly, "Cum for me first, okay? Then you can have me."

You reach back to grab his arm but he pins it to your lower back and lets go of your hair. He leans back up, keeping a hold of your arm and your hip, "Fuck, fuck."

You rest your head down, moaning into the bed as you cum around his cock. He reaches down, grabbing your hair and tilting your head up, "Don't hide those pretty sounds from me, princess."

Your eyes roll back as another surprise orgasm comes back and slams into you. Colby raises his eyebrows, "Fuck, again?" He smirks and listens as you whine out for him.

Moaning his name over and over again.

You were completely his.

You are his.

"Sh-shit." He grips your hips with both hands and pulls you back as he pushes his cock all the way in, fucking his cum into you as deep as he can.

"Holy fuck." He sighs as he pulls out, laying beside you to make sure you're okay, "Y/n?" He whispers, "Look at me."

Your body rests flat on the bed and you turn your head to look at him. He brings his fingers up to gently grip your chin, "You alright?"

You nod against the bed, "Mhm." He smiles and leans over to kiss your forehead, "So was that better than your dreams?"

You nod and sit up slightly, "How did you know I had more than one?"

He smiles and licks his lips, "Remember last week when we were driving around looking for that one bridge?"

You nod and he continues, "Well you fell asleep right before Sam and Y/f/n went into the store, and you were whimpering my name."

"Oh." You blush slightly, "Sorry."

He shakes his head, "No, no. I felt honored that you were dreaming about me." He bites his lip as his eyes can over your face, "Took all I had not to wake you up and fuck you right there in the backseat."

Your lips twitch into a smirk, "Well I give you full permission to do it next time. And the time after that, and any time you want."

He pulls you in and kisses you, "Deal."

The next morning, you wake up, snuggled against Colby's side with his arm around you. Your back is to the door, with the hickey he gave you on your shoulder on full display to y/f/n who was nosey and looked in because Colby wasn't in his room.

You heard quiet whispering but shrugged it off until Sam yells, "It's about fucking time." You jump slightly and Colby sits up, making sure you're covered, "Dude!"

Sam laughs, "I thought that's why you got off last night. Good for you guys."

"Yeah, thanks. Thanks." You rub your eyes and run a hand through your hair, "Now beat it."

They hold their hands up and Sam points, "Have fun you two."

"Bye Sam." Colby says still holding the blanket over your body until the two leave and close the door. You look at Colby with a laugh, "I think they're more excited than us."

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

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artytaeh · 8 months ago

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⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

THEODORE NOTT— a popular slytherin, an introvert at heart, despite his reputation as a womanizer. theodore nott, who has a big, terrible communication problem.

with the pure terror of displaying his vulnerable emotions, theodore smokes cigarettes to force his emotions to disappear with the wind; bites his inner lip and cheek until his mouth bleeds, so no tears threaten to make way to his eyes.

when theodore nott cries, he stares blankly into the wall. he doesn't sob— sobbing would make him even weaker, more vulnerable, less capable and definitely useless, in his father's eyes.

silent tears are the epitome of theodore's sadness, because other than that, his sadness, stress and troubled thoughts are never known. hidden by a mask of stoic expressions.

theodore nott is 'stupid' smart. if he wasn't a slytherin at heart and soul, then he'd be a ravenclaw, or at least that's what the professors comment amongst them. theo enjoys reading, and would easily spend his afternoon on a silent, vacant corner of the castle, devouring a book in few hours.

he lies, saying that it's simply because knowledge is a good weapon. he'd be saying the truth, if theodore confesses that he reads this much, because whether be it fiction or not, he can escape his thoughts to fully concentrate on the book's contents.

theodore nott is knowledgeable, theodore nott is a good, straight-A's student. theodore nott is quick-witted; you wouldn't want to banter with him, because usually, he gets the last word with a victorious, cheeky smile— an insufferable cocky grin.

and yet, shamefully, theodore nott has no idea how to verbalize his feelings.

every good liar is like this, he'd argue. in exchange of spilling the most atrocious lies with a straight face and nonchalant tone, theodore finds it awfully hard to tell the truth.

ask him what's wrong— you can do that, sure. now, if theodore will answer you, that's another story. and to give you a genuine answer, if he doesn't snap? then an angel must have fallen down its altar.

then, if he can't verbalize or trust anyone, not even mattheo riddle or lorenzo berkshire on a good day— what does theodore nott do, to deal with his full mind and empty heart?

theodore nott destroys.

he destroys other living beings,

being the first one to join mattheo riddle, with a smile on his face, when his best friend snaps at the smallest hint of disrespect. throwing a (not really) deserved punch at a guy that honestly, if you ask him afterwards, theodore has no idea what he done wrong.

when lorenzo scolds mattheo for starting a fight and reprimands theodore for indulging it, the slytherin simply shrugs. he's "looking out for his bro", he says. that's only partially true, as much as he deeply cares for mattheo.

everytime that he starts fights, like a rabid dog. theodore doesn't really know when he stopped being il dolce ragazzo of his madre. when he became a dog that bites without thinking about barking first. "so much for claiming to be the logical one," — lorenzo muses.

... he destroys himself.

which would explain the concerning amount of muggle, wizarding, flavored, all shaped packs of cigarettes he owns. there isn't a brand that he didn't try, at least once— the more harmful, the better.

smoking until his lungs become as black as his heart, as his dark thoughts. smoking, until he drops dead with his worries. smoking, until theodore nott becomes a better man (something that he doubts he could do, for he was born a broken man— born from a couple that should have never crossed paths with each other).

consequently, damaging his hands. skin that becomes calloused and slightly scarred from the cigarettes. knuckles constantly bruised from throwing punches at gryffindors or smartass ravenclaws.

so, theodore nott starts believing that he's unlovable. that loving him— oh, that would be torture. pure masochism, that he wouldn't wish to anyone, not even the witch he dislikes or rolls his eyes at the most.

and that becomes a creeping fear of his. oh, theodore is terrified, when the thought of becoming like his father plagues his mind.

to think that he'd become such a disgusting man, the man who brought so much pain to his mother, that killed the only person who truly loved him.

what would his mother say, if she saw him like this?

would she be disappointed, would she be ashamed to even spare a look at him? would her beautiful porcelain face become a frown, would she walk away, disgusted?

theodore consumes three more cigarettes on that thought alone.

... or would she give him a sympathetic look, gazing at her dolce, bravo ragazzo with those tender eyes of hers? a shade of blue, that theodore was fortunate to inherit.

a sad smile makes its way to his lips. because now, even for a brief moment, theo is himself again. he's not a casanova slytherin, he's not the heir of the nott family. theodore nott is simply his mother's little boy, her teddy.

in honor of such bittersweet memories, theo drops his cigarette and doesn't smoke for at least 24 hours.

theo doesn't know how to deal with comfort. genuinely tender touches, fingertips grazing his skin so lightly—

of desperately needy, lustful touches, he knows. he knows them very well, from all those times he slept with a woman, ruined her for the next guy. from the times a slytherin girl gripped and pushed his hair, needing, begging more of his mouth on her; or when a gryffindor got so lost in pleasure that she left the mark of her nails on his back; when a hufflepuff senior clenched her fingers on his torso, hips and shoulders, screaming for more, deeper, faster; that time when he found a way to shut up a particularly insufferable ravenclaw know-it-all by fucking her mouth, and when he felt the back of her throat on him, the stubborn ravenclaw gripped, scratched, protested on his thighs.

of harsh, violent, cruel, merciless touches, everytime mr. nott decided that a disgusted, disappointed gaze wasn't enough to educate his son. when those knuckles adorned with rings curled into a fist, and theodore was beaten into discipline. all those times he started fights and consequently got hit by a punch or two, even though theodore is a good fighter, and makes sure that even if he does get hurt, the receiving end is in worse state, in need of more than one night in the infirmary wing.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

... but comforting, meant to soothe, gentle touches? oh, theo is terrified of them. rather than flinching away from a fist coming his way, theo looks like a scaredy cat when fingers come to brush his hair away from his face, with all the love and care of the world.

theo doesn't know those touches. to be fair, yes, he was acquainted with them once— but that was long, long ago, when his mother was still alive. a life ago, really, because sometimes theodore wonders if he's the same teddy he once was, under the protective but loving arms of his mother.

so at first, theo panics when you hug him, when you physically bring comfort to his broken, damaged heart.

but then?

then, after he gets a taste of how heavenly it feels to be held by someone he loves? then, theo embraces the fact that he is indeed a touch starved man. then, theo completely and shamelessly melts under your touch, relaxing in your embrace, wishing to never leave this safe haven.

( or maybe he does. a little voice on the back of his mind, menacingly suggesting that this safe haven, this loving harbor — you — might disappear into thin air by the cruel hands of his father, the same he did with his mother. )

but before his truly prodigious brain dares to overthink once again— your hands comb through his hair, brushing it back along with his worries, massaging the scalp and melting the troubled thoughts away. that's when theo closes his eyes. that's when he, finally, is in peace with himself.

and if you'd ask him; this is when and where theodore nott is the happiest. this is when theodore nott is teddy again.

౨ৎ these voices in my head screaming ♡ ͡

run now. i'm praying that they're human . . .

🪻 ; . . . fandom : harry potter.

— my motivation? it's a silly little drabble, about my favorite slytherin. theodore nott deserves love, seriously.

the headers + gifs + icons aren't mine. credits to the respective creators ! 🌷

#theodore nott #theo nott #theodore nott x reader #harry potter #harry potter drabbles #theo nott x reader #theo not x you #slytherin boys react #angst #angst headcanons #theodore nott dating #dating headcanons #angst with a happy ending #mentions of abuse #mattheo riddle #lorenzo berkshire #slytherin x reader

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babyfoxflower · 2 months ago

Text

The One That Outsmarted Him

Human! Alastor x Fem! Reader Oneshot

Warnings: 18+, MNDI, Yandere! Alastor, Murder, Blood, Kidnapping, Groping, Implied Noncon

You.

You were the only person to ever escape Alastor ‘the Bayou Butcher’ Hartfelt. It was honestly slightly humiliating that the one to outsmart him was a silly girl. A petite woman who he could have easily overpowered and slit her throat. What a pretty little throat yours was.

Once the humiliation wore off though. Alastor started having different feelings about you. Admiration, respect, and strangely, for him, infatuation. In other words, he was in love with you. You were going to be his. Whether you wanted to or not. He’d track you down, chain you up so you couldn’t escape, and love you for the rest of his life. Even if you managed to escape, he’ll just hunt you down again.

Alastor hummed as he opened his trunk, in there laid a brown sack that squirmed around and made muffled panic noises.

“Someone wake up from their nap? Don’t worry, ma Cherie. You’ll be out soon,” he cooed as he stroked his large hand over the outline of a human body.

He hoisted the sack over his shoulder before closing the trunk. He carried it all the way down to his basement, where there was a comfy queen sized bed with a chain ready for his darling.

He gently dropped the bag onto the bed, causing a little bounce. He opened it up and there you were, looking so adorable and confused.

“There she is,” he chuckled as he pulled you out of the sack.

Your hands and feet were bond and there was a gag keeping you from speaking. As soon as you saw who your captor was, fear consumed you and you started to fight the best you could in your state.

“Now, now, I’ll untie you. Just let me get the chain.”

Alastor picked up the chain that was attached to the wall and placed it as gently as he could on your neck before clamping it closed. It had enough room for you to breathe but was still sturdy enough to make sure you weren’t going anywhere.

He then untied your wrists and ankles before removing the gag.

“Please, don’t kill me! I didn’t tell anyone about that night!” You cried out.

“Shhh,” Alastor placed his finger to your lips, “It’s alright, my love, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Then why did you bring me here?”

Memories flashed back of you coming in the station after hours to get something you left behind. You heard something in the recording room. Curiosity got the better of you and you entered only to see the famous radio host who happened to also be your employer stabbing a man to death.

The smile, the horrid smile that was on his face as he carved into the unknown man. Just the pure ecstasy Alastor was clearly experiencing from such an atrocious act. It was so terrifying that you nearly fainted. However, all you could do was stand there motionless, face twisted in terror.

Once the man was dead, Alastor laughed, “Thank you for the entertainment, ol’ chum.”

He began cleaning his glasses with his handkerchief, his face still covered with the crimson liquid. When he put them back on, he turned and saw you.

“Oh dear, looks like we have a little witness. Y/n, you just had to show up at the wrong time,” He tsked.

“Please, Mister Hartfelt…” was all you could manage to say.

“I try not to make it a habit of killing women, but I guess in this case I have no choice. Sorry, Sweetheart. But, hey, I’ll make it quick. You’ll barely feel a thing,” he said as he approached you.

Tears started streaming down your cheeks, “Please, don’t kill me. I won’t tell anyone.”

“A real shame, you were such a hardworker and quite a charming lady,” he raised his knife.

Out of desperation, you did the one thing you could think of in that moment, you kissed him. Alastor took a step back, shocked. Out of surprise, he dropped his knife. You seized the opportunity and ran away. You escaped with your life.

Now what could he possibly want with you? It was true that you didn’t tell anyone about that encounter. You only quit by letter and never went back to that radio station again.

“I brought you here, ma Cherie, because I love you,” Alastor pressed his lips against yours.

“What!?” You said into the forced kiss.

He reluctantly pulled away, “I love you and I’m going to keep you forever.”

“What!?”

“I assure you that you will be safe and provided for, my love,” he smiled tenderly as he brushed a piece of hair behind your ear.

The look on his face was of a smitten schoolboy. Pupils dilated, face flushed.

“How can you love me? You hardly know me. I worked for you but it’s not like we ever talked much. Not mentioning that you tried to KILL ME!”

“I know, but that was in the past. Let’s focus on the future instead,” he wiped your remaining tears away, “I love you and will never hurt you now or ever. That’s a promise.”

Suddenly, he lifted you up and laid you down so that your head was on the pillows. You let out a squeak that he found absolutely adorable. He took off his leather gloves and let his hands explore your body.

“What are you doing?”

“I apologize, I just couldn’t resist getting to touch my bride,” he said before cupping your breasts in each hand.

“Bride!?”

Alastor ignored your outburst and forced you into another kiss. His hands massaged your chest. He moaned at the feel of you underneath him, how soft you were. The fact that you were all his now, oh, he was going to savior this moment.

He held you down as you kept trying to push him away. How cute, you were playing hard to get. He continued to kiss you until you eventually kissed him back, you didn’t want to but it seemed like he wasn’t going to stop until you did.

A string of saliva formed at the bottom of each of your lips as he pulled away, “Let’s get these clothes off, shall we?”

“Wait, I’m a…”

“A what, my love?”

“A virgin.”

You regretted saying that as it only seemed to make him even more aroused. He licked his lips even. A hunger rose from deep inside of him.

“Oh. Isn’t that lovely? I get to be the first and only man to make love to you,” he smiled a slightly psychotic smile.

“Wait!” You pleaded as he began removing your dress.

He suddenly stroked that special place between your legs which led you to moan uncontrollably. Your body betrayed you.

“Don’t worry, ma Cherie. I will be gentle. I promise,” he gave you a reassuring kiss before unbuckling his belt.

#tw: noncon #alastor x reader #alastor x female reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #alastor smut #human alastor x reader #human alastor x female reader #human alastor x y/n #human alastor x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x female reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel smut

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 2 months ago

Text

Heart-Stopping

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Surgeon!Female!Reader

Word Count: ~900

Warnings: fluff

Summary: After a ten-hour surgery, all you want to do is go home and be with your husband. When he comes into the ER needing surgery, your entire world is turned upside down.

Square Filled: "Oh, don't worry, this blood isn't mine." (2022) for @spencerreidbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

You trudge out of the OR into the scrub room to clean your hands and arms. The surgery you were just in lasted an atrocious ten hours. You’ve gone for more, but this was so tough since the patient’s heart kept arresting and her blood vessels were so friable that it was hard to do any kind of stitches. Still, you managed to get her fixed and stable enough to be transferred to the ICU.

All you want to do is go home to your husband and cuddle until you fall asleep in his arms. He understands your job and how you can’t always be home with him. He’s in the FBI so he has the same demand even if he’s doing work that’s completely different. The reason your marriage works is that you two make it a point to call each other every day, plan an at-home date every week, a date anywhere that’s not your house every month, and have a small vacation every six months.

He’s your rock and you don’t know what you’d do without him in your life. He’s your biggest supporter and the love of your life.

You’re scrubbing away the sweat and grime from your hands when your pager goes off. You grab a microfiber towel and dry your hands before checking the pager. 911 ER. You toss the towel away and run out of the room hoping you can get to the ER in time. There is a patient who needs your attention and might die if you’re not there. It amazes you that you have so much energy after a surgery like that and maybe it’s because of the silent promise of saving as many people as you can.

You push the double doors open that lead into the ER and look around to see if you can spot the patient that needs you.

“Dr. Y/N! I need you to know that everything is okay…”

You can’t hear anything your resident says because all you’re focused on is your husband lying on a stretcher covered in blood. Your entire world comes crashing to a stop. You’re a very skilled heart doctor but it feels like your own heart is going to stop at the thought of your life without Spencer in it. His coworkers, Derek and Emily, are by his side without blood on their clothes.

“Y/N!” Derek grabs your shoulders and snaps you out of the silent panic you’re in. “He’s okay, I promise he’ll be fine.”

“What happened? Spencer!”

You rush over to him, and he grabs your hand gently.

“Oh, don’t worry, this blood isn’t mine,” he mumbles.

“What happened?” you ask Derek and Emily.

“There was an accident. He tried to save our victim and got caught in the crossfire. She’s right behind him.”

“Y/N, we’ll take care of him.”

You turn to see your chief of surgery and your best friend who has a determined yet empathetic look on his face. You can’t take care of your husband because he’s your husband so the only person you trust to take care of him is the chief.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Don’t let him die, please.”

“We go it. Go to Trauma One!”

Spencer is wheeled to the first trauma room just as the victim comes in right behind him. She, you can help. Spencer is wheeled into surgery to fix an injury on his leg while the general surgeon and neurosurgeon take the victim to surgery. If there is anything to be done on her heart, they’ll call you in. You’re stuck thinking about Spencer instead of being in surgery to take your mind off it. You leave Trauma Two and walk over to Emily and Derek who are talking to each other.

“What happened to him?”

“There was a car accident, the car the victim was in. They skidded on a patch of ice and the car slammed into a tree, ejecting the victim out of the windshield. Spencer was the first to her which is how he got all of her blood on him. Another car came around the corner and didn’t see the crashed vehicle, and they collided with it, sending shrapnel into Spencer’s leg. He lost a lot of blood on the way over here.”

“Shit,” you whisper with tears in your eyes.

“He’s going to be okay. You have a talented team of doctors here.”

“I know,” you nod.

There is no choice but to wait for Spencer to get out of surgery. When he is, they take him to a private room where you can sit with him. It takes twenty minutes for him to come out of the anesthesia, but he’s still pretty loopy from it.

“Hey, baby, how are you doing?”

You take out your stethoscope and check his heart and lungs, relief clouding your head when you don’t hear anything bad about it.

“Doctor… I need… I need some… some flowers.”

“Flowers? For what?”

“My wife. Her birthday is this weekend, and I want to get her flowers.”

Your heart swells happily at his little confession. He knows how much you love getting flowers. They brighten up even the darkest of places.

“It’s very important, please.” He rolls his head to the side and looks at you through hooded eyes. He doesn’t seem to recognize it’s his wife right in front of him. “I need you… Can you write her a card for me?”

“What do you want it to say?”

“I love her. Her eyes are pretty. She makes me so happy. Just say that.”

“Okay,” you grin with tears in your eyes.

Spencer’s eyes close and you sit next to his bed. You grab his hand and kiss the back of it, content with staying just like this until he wakes up.

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fiction #spencer reid fan fiction #spencer reid fan fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds angst

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multi-kpop-fanfics · 7 months ago

Text

more than i can handle

pairing: wonwoo x seungcheol x fem!reader

genre: smut, fluff, poly!au, non-idol!au - minors dni.

warnings: dirty talk, dildo play, heavy degradation (whore, slut etc), use of petnames (sunshine, princess, baby boy, pretty boy), dom!wonwoo, switch!reader, sub!seungcheol, kissing, makeout session, anal sex, oral sex (m rec), heavy mxm action, unprotected sex (pls stay safe), creampies, voyeurism, masturbation, hair pulling, sir kink, ass slapping, aftercare

word count: 5,517

summary: the abundance of snow outside won't stop you and wonwoo from restocking your fridge. and it certainly won't stop seungcheol from getting what he wants from his girlfriend and boyfriend - their undivided attention.

Disclaimer: Both Seungcheol and Wonwoo are depicted as bisexual in the fic, which is used only for the purposes of fanfiction and it is not an assumption of the members' sexual orientation in real life. If you're not comfortable with these themes, then this fic isn't for you.

Author's note: your favorite poly is back and better than ever hehe - big thanks to @wongyuseokie, @gyuwoncheol, @highvern, @ourdawnishotterthanourday and @wonuvs for beta reading this fic!

p.s.: if you read about snow and holidays pls ignore, it was in the works since december😭

“...Thank you, Sir. I really appreciate the understanding. Have a nice day.”

Wonwoo ends the phone call with a satisfied hum and he slouches back on his chair, returning to his work at hand.

“So, what’s the verdict?” You ask him, sitting on your own chair.

“Work from home. There was absolutely no way I’d be able to move the car with so much snow outside.” Wonwoo replies.

“Does that mean we get to be with you all day long?”

“That’s right, sunshine.” He smiles sweetly and you get up and hug him excitedly, pressing your lips on his cheek.

“What’s the plan for today? Aside from working, of course.”

“I was thinking of just being cozy with the two of you, y’know? Like those cliché Pinterest aesthetic winter routines.”

“I thought you weren’t the hot cocoa type.” You raise your brow playfully as you go back to your laptop.

“Just because I’m a coffee addict doesn’t mean I hate everything else.” Wonwoo defends himself while fixing his glasses.

“Well you definitely hate my protein shakes!” Seungcheol butts into the conversation from afar.

“That’s because your protein shakes are atrocious.” Wonwoo deadpans, “No sane person puts chicken breast in a glass.”

“Ew, that does sound atrocious.” You grimace in disgust.

“This is why you’re still lanky and not buff, Jeon.” Seungcheol scoffs as he downs the rest of his shake.

“Maybe not everyone wants to be a muscle monster like you, Choi.” The younger man sighs and goes back to his task at hand.

“Oh wow, thanks for paying so much attention to me.”

“Don’t take it the wrong way, Cheollie. He has a lot of work to do, despite staying home.” You try to reassure your other boyfriend.

“Does that mean you’re willing to make up for lost attention?”

“I’m sorry, but I need to catch up with my assignments….” You rub the back of your head apologetically.

“In the middle of the holidays?!” Seungcheol looks at you baffled.

“But my exams start two weeks after the holiday break! There’s not a lot, I promise.” You cup his cheeks.

“Whatever.” He rolls his eyes at you with a huff.

You watch him walk towards the bedroom with heavy steps and guilt settles in your gut.

“I think I was insensitive…” You plop down on the armchair.

“No, he’s being dramatic.” Wonwoo replies without breaking contact with his computer screen.

“But he got a leave from his job just to spend it with us and we’re ignoring him!”

“Y/N, he’s doing it on purpose.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Wait a couple of minutes and you’ll see.”

You look at Wonwoo with a puzzled expression and return to your laptop.

Shortly after, you notice Seungcheol coming into the living room, clad in nothing but a pair of shorts and a tight muscle tee. He’s sporting his earphones, as if he was going to the gym for his daily work out session.

Except he starts working out right in the middle of the room, without giving a single fuck.

He starts by stretching out his legs and arms and then proceeds to put music in his ears, switching into the more intense part of his workout. It doesn’t take long for him to start grunting and moaning as he does series after series of exercises, the sweat accumulated on his body staining the fabric of his muscle tee.

“Cheollie?” You peek your head from behind your laptop. “Do you need some water?”

“No worries, princess. I don’t want to distract you from your assignment.” He gives you a quick peck on the corner of your lips.

In true Choi Seungcheol fashion, he does his best to actually distract you from your work by taking off his muscle tee and continuing his work out shirtless.

Wonwoo turns around and takes a look at his boyfriend, mouthing a “told you so” when he turns his gaze to you.

It takes all of his willpower to not bodyslam Seungcheol on the floor and fuck the living daylights out of him with the grunts and moans he’s letting out. He swears there’s a tent forming in his black sweats and he’s quite certain there will be wet spots on the fabric pretty soon. He puts on his noise canceling headphones to focus on his work and get it done as soon as possible.

You, on the other hand, are the epitome of distractedness and all you’ve written in your essay is utter gibberish, rubbing your thighs together to provide some relief to your aching core. Right now, all you can think of is being underneath Seungcheol and getting fucked into next week.

You get up from the couch and walk over to the fridge to grab some ice cold water. As soon as you open it, your eyes widen in horror when you see the lack of basic groceries and dairy products.

“Um, guys? We have a problem.” You shout at them, but none of them lift their heads.

You get back to them and tap their shoulders to get their attention.

“What’s up, princess?” Seungcheol removes his earbuds and pushes his hair back.

“Our fridge is empty. Like, the basics are missing.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” He rubs his palms over his face.

“Are the stores even open right now?” Wonwoo asks.

“It has stopped snowing for now and there are probably tons of people who didn’t anticipate this weather. Some stores have to be open, even for emergency situations!” You rest your hands on your waist.

“Give me a second.” Wonwoo goes back to his laptop and with a few rapid clicks on his keyboard, he searches for nearby stores.

“There is one, about six hundred meters away from here.” He turns his screen to the both of you to see.

“It won’t be an ordeal to get there. All we need is sturdy shoes and warm clothes.” You shrug and move towards the bedroom.

“Where are you going?” Seungcheol asks you.

“To get dressed and go get groceries. The fridge won’t get full on its own.”

“Hold on , I’m coming with you.”

“You aren’t going anywhere.” Wonwoo gets up.

“I thought you were really fucking busy with work?” The blond man asks with irony laced in his words.

“I still am, but if you go out all sweaty, you’ll be bedridden for the rest of the holidays and none of us want that.”

“You’re not my mom, Wonwoo.”

“No, but I’m your boyfriend and I still care about your health. Now please go take a fucking shower, you’re all sweaty and gross.” He walks past the shirtless man, but Seungcheol stops him by putting his hand on Wonwoo’s chest.

“You better not think I haven’t noticed that little tent of yours, pretty boy. Two people can play a game.”

“Too bad there’s three of us in this relationship. And I won’t be the outnumbered one.” Wonwoo bites back and pushes his arm away to join you in the bedroom.

Seungcheol scoffs and pokes his cheek with his tongue.

Fine by me, he thinks, already thinking of the next step he’s gonna take.

A few minutes later, you and Wonwoo leave the apartment to go buy the much needed groceries and Seungcheol is left alone, an almost childish grin plastered all over his face.

He skips over to the bathroom, stripping himself naked and throwing the dirty clothes in the laundry basket. He jumps in the shower and lets the warm water run over his body, washing away the sweat from his work out session. He pours a generous amount of shower gel over his body and spreads it thoroughly over his skin, the cherry scent enveloping the small room. Even if the shower itself is relaxing, Seungcheol himself is way too worked up - and it’s not just because of the post workout adrenaline. The blatant ignorance he experiences from you and Wonwoo annoys him and turns him on to the point of lunacy.

He washes the suds from his hands and brings two fingers in his mouth, spitting on them and rubbing them over the rim of his ass experimentally.

He moans heavily when he pushes the fingers inside, cock twitching with need. He puts his free hand on the wall of the shower to support himself while stretching out his hole. He works his thick digits in and out of his ass, eyes scrunched shut and thighs flexing with each thrust. Every time he bites his bottom lip to suppress his moans, he fails miserably and moans even louder - he’s home alone, after all.

His cock is rock hard by now, the tip flushed an angry red and veins bulging over his shaft. He can almost feel the precum starting to build up and ready to leak all over, but he doesn’t want to cum yet and definitely not like this. He removes his fingers from his ass, satisfied with the stretch and washes away the rest of the suds, turning off the shower.

He fastens his bathrobe around his waist and goes into the bedroom, opening his side of the closet to search for his sex toy stash. He giggles when he finds the familiar box and opens it hastily, taking out his favorite knotted dildo. He grabs the lube from the nightstand drawer and looks around the bedroom to see where he’ll place the toy.

His gaze falls on the full bodied mirror next to the closet and an idea pops up in his head as he fiddles with the dildo in his hands. He removes his bathrobe and throws it on the bed, walking to the living room to get his phone. Once he returns to the bedroom, he kneels in front of the mirror and grabs his cock, slowly pumping it with his fist. He pulls up the phone camera and snaps a handful of pictures, flexing his biceps and thighs on purpose to make them look even more attractive.

“Damn, I don’t even have to filter them.” He checks them one by one, absolutely satisfied with the results.

He sends them to the group chat with a quick text, waiting for the two of you to open them and lose your minds.

“Are we missing anything else?” Wonwoo asks you while pushing the shopping cart down the aisle.

“Maybe some bathroom supplies? Just to be sure, in case it snows again.”

“I swear, if it weren’t for you, we would have died a long time ago.” Your boyfriend applauds you for your organizing skills.

Both of your phones go off at the same time and you fish your phone out of the pocket of your parka.

“What’s up?” He asks you while putting two ramen cups in the cart.

“Cheol texted the group chat.”

“He probably wants us to buy chicken breast for his godforsaken shakes.” Wonwoo rolls his eyes.

You open the messaging app and you let out a loud gasp, covering your mouth after being heard by other customers, instantly closing the screen of your phone.

“What happened, sunshine?” The tall man asks you with worry written all over his face.

“Um….How do I put this….” You scratch your heated cheek.

“Y/N, what did he send you?”

“See for yourself.” You point to his pocket and Wonwoo impatiently unlocks his phone

He clenches his jaw tight when he opens Seungcheol’s messages, the previous hard-on he was sporting now threatening to get bigger.

cheollie has sent three photos.

cheollie: it could be your hands but you’re working instead

“This motherfucker.” He pokes his cheek with his tongue and types back a quick reply. He puts his phone back in his pocket and pushes the cart towards the cashiers with quicker steps.

“Hey, what about the rest of the supplies?!” You tug at the sleeve of his parka.

“We’ll get them, sunshine. We just need to be quick about it.” He almost grits his teeth.

“You’re not the only one who’s hot and bothered because of Seungcheol.” You step in front of the cart.

“So you admit that you were having a hard time with your essay.”

“I never said I didn’t! Do you know how difficult it was to type on my laptop while he was groaning and moaning-”

“Like a bitch in heat?” Wonwoo completes your sentence with a lopsided smirk.

“Exactly! And he looks so beefy and thick and-”

“And unbearably hot, yeah I know. And God, it drives me insane.” He lets out a shaky breath.

“Wonu?” You ask him with a lowered voice.

“Yes?”

“Can we get out of here? Like, real soon?”

“I thought you wanted to shop some more stuff?” Wonwoo chuckles at your sudden burst of impatience.

“I still do, but I also have a hot boyfriend at home who could be doing God knows what.”

“Your other boyfriend is still here with you, though.” He pushes his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

“My other boyfriend wants to fuck the boyfriend at home too.” You grin and pull on the other end of the cart. “Come on, time is of the essence.”

As soon as you step foot into the apartment, you are greeted by absolute silence. You opt to call out Seungcheol’s name, but Wonwoo covers your mouth with his hand. He tells you to keep quiet by mouthing the words. He nods towards the fridge and you take off your shoes, tiptoeing your way to the kitchen and place the bags on the counter as stealthily as possible. He takes off his shoes and parka, taking careful steps towards the bedroom.

The closer he gets, the louder he can hear noises coming from the secluded space. He notices the door being cracked open just enough to get a good view of what is happening inside and he takes the initiative of pushing it wide open to rest his body on the door frame and watch the show in front of him.

Seungcheol is bouncing his ass on the knotted dildo like his life depends on it, the muscles on his thighs and back rippling with every motion. His moans are airy, almost whiny and it makes Wonwoo’s cock drip in his boxers, his self control starting to run thin.

A small creaking noise on the doorframe alerts Seungcheol and he turns his head around, scanning his boyfriend up and down.

“Oh, don’t mind me, you can keep going.” Wonwoo waves his hand in dismissal.

“I wasn’t planning on stopping for your sake.” Seungcheol scoffs and keeps fucking himself on the toy, as if the younger man doesn’t exist in the room.

“If you want to grab my attention for real, you can try taking the knot in your ass and stay there.”

“Are you challenging me?”

“You’re the one who said your ass can handle a lot.”

“Hmph. Whatever.” Seungcheol scoffs as lifts himself off the dildo to grab the lube and pour some more over the toy, climbing back on it again to ease himself on the bulbous knot.

The initial stretch is always intimidating, but as soon as the knot disappears inside him, his body shudders and his nails scratch the wooden floor, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

He wants to move so bad, so fucking bad-

“Don’t you dare move.” Wonwoo’s voice is rough and demanding.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do.” The blond man bites back and raises his hips ever so slightly, never breaking eye contact with his boyfriend.

“I don’t think you want to do this. Am I right, baby boy?”

Seungcheol freezes in his spot, thighs going weak at the pet name. His mouth quivers, the knot stretching him open and he struggles to keep himself in check.

Wonwoo walks with slow steps towards his boyfriend, kneeling next to him.

“What’s wrong? You went pretty docile just now, didn’t you?” He smirks.

“Fuck you.” Seungcheol grits his teeth.

“What did you say?” Wonwoo grips his jaw tight.

“I said fuck you, pretty boy.” Seungcheol sports a shit-eating grin and it earns him a harsh slap on the ass, making him whine pathetically.

“I prefer it when you make pretty sounds like the one you made just now.” Wonwoo runs his thumb over the pretty pink bottom lip and the naked man sucks the digit.

“That thing where you two start without me is getting annoying.” You shake your head in disapproval, stepping into the bedroom impatiently.

“Sorry sunshine, but baby boy is being a little impatient slut today.”

“Yeah, I noticed. I bet he thought of walking around the apartment completely naked just to get our attention.” You take off your clothes in a hurry, remaining only in your underwear set.

“Ooh, she has the lace on.” Wonwoo whistles in a flirty way as he takes his thumb away.

“I always like to be prepared for any case.”

“Could you please p-pay some attention to me?” Seungcheol asks through gritted teeth, struggling with the toy inside him.

“Hm? What was that, Cheollie?” You kneel right next to him, “I didn’t quite hear you.”

“Please pay some attention to me.” He repeats his sentence a bit louder.

“We are right here, baby boy.” Wonwoo cups his neck lovingly, “Just tell us what you want and we’ll give it to you.”

“I need you, both, please.” The blond man exhales shakily.

Wonwoo and you look at each other, sharing impish glances, as if your brains thought of the same thing at the same time. He then gets up and takes off his long sleeved shirt and sweats, dropping the clothes right in front of Seungcheol. He then sits on the bed, patting his lap for you to join him.

You climb on the bed and in your boyfriend’s lap, leaving your other boyfriend shocked and visibly upset.

“You- I hate you both.” He grumbles while clenching his fists on the floor.

“If you want to join, then don’t cum.” Wonwoo looks him straight in the eyes while groping your ass. “Perhaps then we’ll consider it.”

“Wonu? I am right here, baby.” You get his attention by putting your hands on his broad shoulders and you rub yourself on his boxers to rile him up. And it works like a fucking charm, because he’s shoving his tongue down your throat like a man who hasn’t kissed someone in an entire lifetime.

His kisses are usually softer and more calculated, but not today - Wonwoo is far too riled up to care about details and the only thing he wants is to ravish you. He pushes you on the mattress and climbs over you, ruthlessly attacking your lips and neck with his mouth. He uses both teeth and tongue to abuse your skin, deliberately targeting your weak spots to elicit sweet noises from you.

He steals a few side glances towards Seungcheol, who is on the brink of tears from being edged for so long, droplets of sweat running down his flushed skin. The irrational, needy part of his brain wants to jump on the bed and kick Wonwoo outside, while keeping you all to himself. But he knows better than disobeying a pissed off Wonwoo.

Wonwoo pulls you by the arms and makes you sit on your knees facing Seungcheol, while he sits behind you, chest touching your back.

“Let’s give our baby boy a show, shall we?” He whispers in your ear and you nod, biting your bottom lip.

Wonwoo caresses your body with his hands, over your stomach and reaches your covered breasts. He hooks his fingers in the lace of your bra, tugging it harshly to let your mounds bounce out of the undergarment, a small ripping sound reaching your ears.

“Ease off the lace!” You whine, but he grabs your chin with his hand, the other glued on your chest.

“Act up and I’ll make sure you won’t cum at all, sunshine. Am I clear?”

“...yes Sir.” You sigh,

“Good girl.” Wonwoo kisses your cheek and relaxes his grip on your chin. “Good girls always get rewarded.” He murmurs in your ear, his hand descending lower and lower.

You let out a small moan when your boyfriend’s hand palms over your clothed pussy, slowly rubbing the lace hiding your clit.

“I can already tell you’re excited about this, sunshine. Soaking through your underwear like the needy little thing you are.” Wonwoo’s lips are glued on your ear.

“Please touch me more, Sir.” You whine, looking right into Seungcheol’s eyes.

“I didn’t hear you well, darling.” The dark haired man chuckles.

“Just touch her, you asshole.” Seungcheol groans, his cock twitching like crazy again.

“You don’t get to speak a damn word.” Wonwoo grits his teeth.

“Wonu, please!” You cry out, “I need you so bad, I’m gonna lose it!”

“You goddamn little shits.” He pushes you on the bed and gets up, standing next to Seungcheol.

“You want to get fucked? Now’s your chance.” He grips the blond man’s hair and lifts him off the knotted toy, practically throwing him on the bed like a ragdoll.

“Ouch, that hurt, you fucker!” Seungcheol snarls at Wonwoo, but the younger man pins him down on the mattress, despite being less muscular.

“Playtime’s over, baby boy. My turn now.” He discards his boxers, cock slapping against his stomach, bright red and leaking.

“Funny how you’re trying to act all dominant yet you’re leaking more than a broken faucet.” Seungcheol snickers, spreading his legs apart.

Wonwoo glances at you and offers you his hand to help you get up. You take it with a smirk and he positions you right between Seungcheol’s legs.

“You know what to do. And remember - don’t let him have his way with you.”

“Gotcha.” You grin devilishly.

“Princess, do you seriously think you can dom me? Please be real now.” Seungcheol laughs, but his laughter is cut short when he sees Wonwoo hovering right above his face.

“No. But we can dom you.”

You put your hands under Seungcheol’s knees and push his thighs apart to make room for yourself, putting him in a mating press instead of the opposite that usually happens in the bedroom. You position yourself right over his tip and slowly slide your pussy down his length, until it has completely disappeared inside you.

“O-Oh….Fuck, Princess, didn’t see that coming.” The blond man’s mouth goes slack from the novel sensation.

“God, no wonder you like this position so much.” You moan and start moving your hips the same way one of your boyfriends usually fuck you stupid.

Seungcheol throws his head back and grins when he sees Wonwoo pumping his cock with his hand, the tip dangerously close to his cheek.

“What are you waiting for, Wonu?” The older man snickers and moves his hand to touch his boyfriend’s shaft, but Wonwoo pins his wrists down and lets his cock rub the plush lips.

“For the right moment to shut you up.”

Wonwoo slides his cock inside and starts fucking Seungcheol’s throat harshly, finally letting out his pent up frustrations.

“Don’t be so h-harsh on him, Wonu, he might choke.” You point out the gagging, sloppy noises coming from above.

“Don’t worry, he can take it. Isn’t that right, baby boy?” Wonwoo takes off his cock for a few seconds.

“Yeah,” Seungcheol coughs a bit, but regains his breath like a pro, “Just make sure to fuck me like you both mean it, you weaklings.”

The comment makes you and Wonwoo’s blood boil like molten lava and you climb over Seungcheol’s body to push his thighs further apart and fuck him like a bitch in heat.

“That’s it, sunshine. Fuck him like the whore he is.” Wonwoo grunts as he facefucks your (and his) boyfriend, putting one hand on his throat to squeeze it ever so slightly.

“Shit, this feels so damn great,” you moan out loud as you ride his cock, “I can feel him twitching inside me, he’s close.”

“Of course he is,” Wonwoo leans closer and gives you a quick kiss, “Nobody could ever resist your beautiful pussy, sunshine. Especially us.”

Seungcheol starts moaning around the shaft bullying his mouth and he wraps his thick thighs around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“Oof- God, he’s so damn desperate to cum.” You chuckle and run your hands over his torso to rile him up even further.

“Don’t stop until you are fully satisfied, Y/N. Baby boy is here to take whatever we’re going to give him.”

Your pussy stays glued on Seungcheol’s cock, rubbing it like a tight fleshlight until it starts milking him dry, sucking globs after globs of cum. The muscles of his thighs twitch behind your waist and his fists clench on the mattress, the shocks of his orgasm torturing his body.

Wonwoo detaches his hips away from Seungcheol’s mouth, letting the man breathe and spew a string of moans and curses.

“Princess, please, s-slow down! You’re- ah, fuck!” He whines loudly, tears stinging his eyes.

“She won’t stop until she has had her fill, baby boy.” Wonwoo digs his nails in Seungcheol’s wrists, “And don’t even try to stop her. Am I clear?”

“Shit- Yes, Sir.”

You rhythmically bounce your hips on top of his dick, your inner thighs beginning to burn from exhaustion and a thick, milky ring forms around your entrance. You can feel your own climax inch closer and closer, the pattern of your movements growing sloppier by the second.

“S-Sir I’m gonna cum, God I’m so close!” You cry out and plant your palms on the toned pair of pecs underneath you.

“Go on, sunshine. You earned this orgasm all on your own, you and your capable pussy.” Wonwoo stares at you with hungry eyes, watching you fall apart on the blond man’s cock.

Your eyes nearly roll in the back of your skull when you finally cum and you would be lying if you said it isn’t one of the best orgasms you’ve ever had. You’re certain your brain has stopped working and you probably look like a lust-crazed animal.

“That’s it, sunshine. Ride it all out.” The dark haired man presses a kiss on the column of your neck, while Seungcheol is writhing and shaking under the two of you.

“I’m so….full.” You sigh in satisfaction and you feel the meaty legs around your lower back relaxing around you and plopping down on the bed. You carefully lift yourself off his lap and let out a long drawn moan when a sticky trail of cum runs down your thigh.

“God, I’m so spent.” Seungcheol groans, wiping the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand.

“Already? That’s too bad.” Wonwoo scoffs and flips his boyfriend face down on the sheets. “Because I’m nowhere near done with you.”

“And I thought you had completely forgotten.” Seungcheol grins and bumps his ass directly on Wonwoo’s hardened dick. “Come on, don’t you want to fuck my ass already?”

You sit back on the headboard, your fingers ghosting over your chest and clit, your gaze entirely focused on your boyfriends.

“We even have an audience, pretty boy. I think you should hurry up and stick it in.”

Wonwoo chuckles as he lines up his cock and slowly pushes in, until he’s balls deep.

“Enjoy the show, sunshine.”

The tall man grips Seungcheol’s waist and begins thrusting slowly inside him, grunting at the tight sensation around his cock.

“How are you still tight after sitting on that monstrosity for so long?”

“Can’t betray my secrets like that.” The blond man sends a wink towards you.

“Wonu, go faster.” You say with a demanding tone, your fingers working circles on your clit.

“You heard the princess - Put your back into it, pretty boy.”

“Damn you both, fucking brats.” Wonwoo uses one hand to fist Seungcheol’s hair and keep his head down, now towering over him. He pistons his hips against his boyfriend’s ass hard enough to make it bounce repeatedly, smacking noises filling the room.

“Fuck - That’s what I’m t-talking about.” Seungcheol grips the sheets, lips parted open and moans spilling freely.

Your whines match your boyfriend’s moans, your hands working out your pussy at the same speed Wonwoo is thrusting. Two of your digits are covered in the cum left inside you from previously riding Seungcheol, acting as the perfect lube.

“Ass made in Heaven, damnit,” Wonwoo catches his bottom lip with his teeth, “Made to be railed by none other than me.”

“My toys would like to disagree.” Seungcheol half moans and the snarky comment earns him a slap on the ass, forcing him to whimper.

“The only noises I want to hear from you are whimpers and moans, you whore.”

Wonwoo gets rougher with his thrusts, his hand pulling Seungcheol’s hair by the roots, lifting his head to make him face you. “Now, I want you to look at her while I’m fucking you stupid and give her the most cunt-watering expression you have.”

“Y-Yes, Sir.” Seungcheol breathes out, a fresh layer of sweat adorning his body.

Wonwoo delivers full-bodied thrusts, pulling and pushing his cock until the tip is barely inside and then fully sheathed again, knocking the air out of Seungcheol’s lungs. Salty tears cascade his cheeks, his body jerking forward with each movement.

“W-Wonu, you’re being too r-rough with him.” You comment shakily, two of your fingers rapidly plunging into your weeping cunt

“Rough, you say? Do you want me to slow down, baby boy?” Wonwoo asks his boyfriend, halting his hips.

“N-No, please don’t, please don’t stop, fuck!” Seungcheol pushes his ass back, chasing the stimulation.

“See, sunshine? Baby boy likes it rough and sloppy - and so do you.”

“I-”

“Keep your beautiful pussy stuffed until we’re done, will you?”

“Yes, yes Sir.” You nod furiously as you try to push back your orgasm.

“W-Won’t be too long until then,” Wonwoo groans loudly, “I’m almost there, fuck.”

“Please do it inside, please!” Seungcheol begs loudly, his body nearly giving out.

“Fuck, take it all, slut, all yours.” Wonwoo curses in his ear and finally topples over the edge, dumping a part of his load in his boyfriend’s hole. He takes out his cock, giving it a few more pumps to splatter the remnants of his climax all over Seungcheol’s ass.

The sight before you makes your head spin with more arousal and your walls clench around your fingers, your own orgasm washing over you and sending you to cloud nine.

For a good few minutes, mixed heavy breaths are all the three of you can hear. It’s clear as daylight that all three of you are beyond tired and barely able to move.

“My body hurts everywhere.” Seungcheol whines in defeat.

“Mine too.” You agree.

“I’m afraid both of you need to get up,” Wonwoo stretches his back, “We need to change the sheets, they’re fucked.”

“So are we, dumbass.” The blond man grimaces in pain.

“I am fully aware,” Wonwoo tries to lift Seungcheol up and you right after, “Now get up, we need to get you cleaned up.”

“You haven’t even prepared a bath!” You pout your lips in protest.

“Really going through the princess act, don’t you?” He lifts you in bridal style and carries you to the bathroom, gently placing you on the edge of the tub.

“As if you don’t like treating me like one.” You grin playfully.

“I would say this is Cheol’s duty, but I love you a little too much to not treat you like a princess.” He presses a kiss on your cheek and lets the water run. “Mind checking the water until I’m back with him?”

“Not at all.” You reply with a smile and he leaves the bathroom to return to the crime scene.

To his surprise, Wonwoo finds Seungcheol standing up and removing the dirty sheets, the skin on his ass and thighs stained from cum streaks.

“What are you doing?”

“Can’t let you do all the work now.” The blond man picks up the sheets and the used toy from the floor. As soon as he takes a couple more steps towards the door, he can feel his legs screaming in pain.

“Ow fuck!”

“Whoa, careful!” Wonwoo sweeps at the right moment and catches him before falling, “Can you please not be so fucking stubborn?”

“But-”

“No buts.” He throws Seungcheol’s arm over his shoulder, “I need to get your ass to the bathroom.”

“What are you doing? The bath is ready!” You yell from the corridor.

“Coming!” Wonwoo yells back.

“Well, at least now we’re even, right?” Seungcheol gives a silly wink towards the dark haired man.

“You’re so fucking stupid.” Wonwoo snorts as he helps the older man out of the bedroom.

“After being fucked like this? Definitely.”

“Stupid and incorrigible.”

“And hot and rich and-”

Wonwoo cuts him off with a quick kiss on the lips, catching him off guard.

“Can you please shut the fuck up?”

Seungcheol flashes a toothy grin and runs his tongue over his bottom lip.

“Yes, Sir.”

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