#twisters

[babyfoxcollectionthings]

[allnaturalmom123]

Use 3 words to describe my body 💕

[sc3ptre]

Lessons on sex

Pairing: Scott Miller x Storm Par partner!reader

⟡ Main Index | ⟡ Archive for Earth-181938

a/n: Here’s my little “get well soon” gift for @kryptidfiles !! Imagine this wrapped in a huge bow with flowers sticking out from every side. EVERYONE GO FOLLOW HER BLOG and I hope you enjoy!!

Summary: You made the mistake of turning sex into casual conversation with your coworker and accidentally start the worst HR violation of your life.

Classification: Smut +18 | coworkers to lovers, several smut scenes, alcohol consumption, rude/arrogant Scott Miller, oral sex, fingering, dirty talk, rough sex, rough groping, protected and unprotected sex, doggy style, missionary, squirting, ass smacking, marking/bruising, praise, dom/sub dynamics, workplace boundary issues and emotionally repressed idiots in love.

Word count: 9,2k

There was a difference between good sex and great sex, the same way there was a difference between getting fucked and being made love to...

Good sex was what you expected from anybody decent enough to make it that far with you. It was the kind people talked about casually with their friends, the kind that came up over drinks after someone asked, “So, was he good?” Good sex happened on Tuesdays after work with the guy from Hinge who insisted on taking you out somewhere too expensive for a second date. You split a basket of fries, drank half a beer because you still had work in the morning, drove home with exhaustion sitting heavy behind your eyes, then let him fuck you well enough to sleep for four uninterrupted hours. 

Good sex was practical and predictable. It convinced your body you were living a normal life.

Great sex was different. Great sex happened after work parties when your mascara was already smudged and your heels were in your hand by midnight. It happened on weekends with nowhere to be the next morning. You never talked about great sex because it sounded exaggerated the second you said it out loud, like you were overselling a man nobody else would understand. Great sex made you cum or at least brought you close enough that your stomach tightened every time you remembered it afterward. You thought about great sex while driving long stretches of empty highway, your hands steady on the wheel while your mind wandered somewhere warmer. 

Great sex stayed in your body for days. You caught yourself replaying parts of it absentmindedly while standing in line for coffee or brushing your teeth before bed.

Then there was getting fucked…

There was no cleaner way to define it. It lived somewhere between fantasy and urban legend, passed around between women in half-serious conversations that always dissolved into laughter. Everybody claimed to know someone who’d experienced it but nobody could explain it properly. Getting fucked was the kind of sex that distracted you in the middle of the day badly enough to make you stop what you were doing and change your underwear. It sat dangerously close to the limits of what sex could actually be before the whole thing collapsed under its own weight. 

If a guy treated you too much like an object, it fell apart immediately. 

If you didn’t orgasm, it didn’t count. 

If you weren’t still thinking about him six months later at red lights and in grocery store aisles and during lonely hotel nights, then it wasn’t that either. 

Getting fucked sat at the very top of the scale, lit up like something obvious and somehow most men still missed it completely.

Being made love to was worse and more dangerous, honestly.

For somebody like you, it could become embarrassing fast. Storm season kept you on the road for months at a time, bouncing between states, sleeping in motels with stiff sheets and weak air conditioning. Off-season meant office buildings, weather models glowing across multiple monitors, long meetings about funding, new equipment and data collection. Your life moved constantly and men liked that at first. A woman who was smart, busy, gone half the year, financially stable and difficult to pin down. 

Men loved the idea of you because it excused the fact they never had to give very much. Most of them thought they were in love but really, they just liked access to somebody they found impressive.

Before all of that, you used to think being made love to meant passion…intimacy. That it was slow sex with somebody who knew your body so well they could pull an orgasm out of you patiently and confidently, like it mattered to them as much as breathing did. You imagined hands lingering at your waist, sleepy conversation afterward, somebody brushing your hair away from your face before kissing you again.

Instead, you ended up underneath men who mistook enthusiasm for intimacy. You stared at ceilings while they grunted above you, listened to them breathe your name like they were performing something instead of feeling it. Sometimes you felt your stomach turn from the boredom alone, your body rocking mechanically with theirs while your mind drifted somewhere else entirely to storm reports, grocery lists and whether you needed to change your oil before the next drive west.

You never let them finish once you realized you hated it, that was the one thing you refused to fake. You pushed them off, sat up and reached for your clothes while they blinked at you in confusion. You told them it wasn’t going to work, sometimes you said it gently and other times you just didn’t bother. Either way, you watched realization settle over them while they sat there flushed and humiliated, their ego bruised worse than their feelings ever were but somehow your harsh words still made them cum…

Needless to say, after a while, you stopped having sex altogether.

You were in your rental house after a long day spent staring at storm data and listening to Javi ramble about whatever breakthrough he thought he’d made this time. It was late, the entire house felt heavy and warm, every light dimmer than usual and lately, you weren’t alone nearly as often as you used to be.

Scott sat at your dining table with your laptop open, shoulders slightly hunched, completely absorbed in columns of numbers and radar models. You’d known him for two years and he’d been your partner for one of them. 

People were right about him. He was direct to the point of rudeness, arrogant enough to make most people defensive within five minutes and mean when he thought someone deserved it but unlike most men in your field, Scott had learned how to admit when he was wrong, far from gracefully or happily but still, he did it.

The two of you were impossibly stubborn in almost identical ways, so sharing space with him sometimes felt like being trapped in a room with a sharper version of yourself. Separately, you were both good at what you did but together, you were nearly impossible to beat.

You couldn’t pinpoint when “coworkers” had turned into Scott walking into your house without knocking, helping himself to your fridge and sitting at your table like he paid rent.

“Best orgasm you’ve had during sex?” His voice came from across the room, casual and flat, like he’d asked you about rainfall percentages. He didn’t even look away from the laptop while he said it.

You’d forgotten he was meeting you there before the two of you drove to the bar together, which was why you were still walking around in sleep shorts and a bra, trying to find something decent enough to wear without looking like you’d spent an hour trying.

You took a sip from the beer he’d already pulled out of your fridge and nearly snorted into the bottle. “You think men do that?” you asked as you disappeared into your bedroom.

“To you?” Scott finally looked up. His eyes tracked your movement automatically while he reached for the beer the two of you were apparently sharing now. “I hope so.”

He took a drink as his eyes followed your movement.

You walked back into view holding two dresses on mismatched hangers. “You’re a fucking idiot,” you said plainly. “And maybe a pervert.”

Scott pointed at you immediately. “You’re changing in front of me. I could probably keep count of your bras at this point and I don’t. That actually makes me less of a pervert.”

You disappeared back into your room. He could hear hangers scraping against the closet rod while you searched through clothes with growing irritation.

“Just because it doesn’t make you hard doesn’t make you not a pervert,” you called back, your voice muffled through the wall.

“How do you know I’m not?” he shot back instantly, sounding almost offended by the assumption.

Silence followed but about a minute later, you walked back out wearing a dress he’d never seen before. It was simple, fitted enough to make his eyes stop for a second before continuing downward automatically. You crossed the room toward him, letting your heels drop onto the hardwood before slipping them on one at a time.

“You’re not attracted to me, Scott,” you said flatly.

He looked up slowly then, his eyes dragging over the length of the dress with enough attention to make most people nervous. On you, it just made you impatient.

“You seem awfully confident about that.”

“I am.” You adjusted the strap on your shoulder before glancing toward his laptop screen. “So don’t say shit that makes me sound stupid.”

Scott looked back at the laptop fast enough to make the movement obvious. He pretended to scroll through data he’d stopped reading the second you started undressing in the next room.

“I’m ready,” you said. “Good to go?”

“Need five minutes,” he muttered.

You walked behind him toward the front door, tapping his shoulder as you passed. “The data will still be there tomorrow. C’mon, Scotty.”

The teasing grin in your voice made something in his jaw tighten. You disappeared outside before he could even think of an answer.

Scott closed the laptop harder than necessary and stood, quietly adjusting himself through his jeans with the irritation of a man betrayed by his own body. He shut off the lights one by one and grabbed your keys from the counter before locking the door behind him.

The porch light was off so you couldn’t see the tent in his jeans. Thank fuck for that.

“Scotty was an eight-year-old with chubby cheeks,” he muttered while locking the deadbolt. He glanced over at you waiting by the passenger side of his truck. “It’s Scott.”

“It’s whatever I decide it is,” you replied easily.

He rolled his eyes and walked down the porch steps, unlocking the truck with a sharp click.

“Come open my door.”

“Since when do you need me to do that?” he complained, already circling the hood anyway.

“Since you got comfortable commenting on my bras.”

Scott stopped in front of you to stare before reaching around your waist to pull the handle open. The movement brought him close enough to smell your perfume underneath detergent and beer.

You smiled to yourself while climbing into the passenger seat because for once, Scott didn’t have anything smart to say.

Talking about sex with your coworkers was probably the least professional habit you could develop but professionalism stopped mattering after twelve-hour drives, shared motel rooms, gas station dinners at midnight and enough close calls together to make normal boundaries feel unnecessary. There were barely any women in the field to begin with, which meant the few of you that existed clung together fast and Scott, despite being deeply irritating most of the time, was easier to talk to than most people. 

Brutally honest people usually were.

At some point, conversations that started as jokes during long drives turned into real discussions about relationships, sex, exes and every disappointing person either of you had ever slept with. It happened slowly enough neither of you noticed the line moving until it was already somewhere far behind you.

HR would’ve had a heart attack.

That night, you learned Scott Miller did not do good sex. If good sex existed to him at all, it involved two people fully clothed and standing on opposite ends of a room.

The bar was more crowded than you expected, packed wall to wall with storm chasers, meteorologists, researchers and people who somehow always smelled faintly like dust and gasoline no matter how clean they looked. Whenever women in the field found each other, there was an unspoken tendency to group together immediately, so you spent most of the night at the bar talking with another researcher from Oklahoma while music pounded so loud you felt it vibrate through the floor beneath your heels.

Eventually Javi appeared beside you carrying drinks you absolutely weren’t going to refuse. He handed one over before leaning closer, lowering his voice.

“What’s wrong with Scott?”

You blinked at him. The question caught you off guard enough to make your brows pull together immediately because nobody ever asked about Scott. People either tolerated him, argued with him or avoided him entirely. Whatever problem Scott had, he usually fixed it himself before anyone could notice it existed.

Your eyes scanned the crowd automatically until you found him near the back corner of the bar with a soda in his hand. Of course he wasn’t drinking, he stood half-shadowed against the wall looking deeply unimpressed by the concept of social interaction…and staring directly at you.

Your eyes narrowed slightly until Scott finally got the message and looked away first.

You turned back to Javi. “Do you mean tonight or in general?” you asked dryly. “Because I’m pretty sure he was dropped as a child, but you’d have to ask his mother for confirmation.”

Javi frowned harder. “I mean tonight. He looks tense and it’s making me uneasy.”

“It’s Scott. He always looks tense.”

“More than usual.” Javi glanced over his shoulder carefully. “Tell him to relax for once…and to make some friends. That’s literally why we came here.”

You pointed at yourself immediately. “Why am I responsible for that?”

Javi shrugged like the answer was obvious. “Because you speak ‘Scott’ fluently. Translate what I just said into something he’ll actually understand.”

Your gaze dropped to the drink in your hand. “You’re bribing me.”

“And that drink cost me twenty-five dollars,” he replied. “So yes. Go.”

You snorted into the rim of your glass. “Pretty sure stress is what’s making you bald, by the way…not Scott’s burning gaze.”

Javi adjusted his baseball cap defensively. “Just go talk to him.”

You shook your head, already grinning despite yourself and pushed through the crowd toward the back of the bar, which Scott noticed immediately. 

The music got louder the closer you got to him, voices bleeding together into useless noise, so instead of trying to shout over it, you reached forward and hooked one finger through the belt loop of his jeans.

“Outside,” you said simply, tugging once as you moved toward the exit.

Scott followed without argument, that alone should’ve concerned you more than it did.

The plan was for him to ask what you wanted once you got outside. Instead, somewhere between the crowded bar and the exit door, he got distracted watching you walk ahead of him. Your dress moved against your hips every few steps, exposing flashes of leg skin under the low bar lights and the muscles in your bare back moved subtly every time you pushed through another cluster of people.

Inevitably, Scott’s eyes dropped lower before he caught himself.

By the time the two of you stepped outside into the cooler night air, he still hadn’t said a word.

You finally let go of his belt loop once the two of you were far enough from the entrance that the music had dulled into muffled bass behind you. You turned to face him properly, folding your arms across your chest as you looked up at him.

“What’s your current issue?” you asked.

“Current?” Scott repeated, brows pulling together.

You nodded once like the question made perfect sense.

“When’s the last time you had sex?”

A startled laugh escaped you before you could stop it. “Excuse me?”

He shrugged carelessly, shoving one hand into the pocket of his jeans. “What? Are you the only one allowed to ask those questions?”

You laughed again, this time shaking your head as you pointed at him. “Yes. Obviously.”

Scott snorted.

“And those are long-drive questions,” you continued, motioning vaguely toward his truck behind you before pointing back toward the crowded bar. “Not ‘parking lot outside a packed bar’ questions.”

“You still need to answer.” He shrugged again. “Those are the rules.”

“Have I ever told you how stupid those rules are?”

“First time I’m hearing complaints since you’re the one who made them,” he replied with a grin.

“You’re insufferable,” you muttered under your breath before taking another sip of your drink.

Scott stayed quiet as he just watched you over the rim of his own soda, patient and expectant in a way that immediately irritated you because he clearly thought he was getting an answer eventually.

“Are you seriously gonna make me answer?”

“I can’t make you do anything,” he said calmly. “But I can wait. I still have to drive you home.”

You looked up toward the entrance of the bar. Through the windows you could still see people packed together under neon lights, laughing too loud, talking over each other about work, storm patterns and equipment failures. You’d already reached the point of the night where conversations started blending together into white noise.

“Can we leave now?” you asked.

Scott didn’t answer verbally. He just pulled his keys from his pocket, unlocked the truck with a click, then held his hand out toward your drink.

“Get in and lock the doors,” he said as he took the glass from you and turned back toward the bar to return it.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you called after him while walking directly to the passenger side and doing exactly that.

Honestly, you didn’t mind answering the question. The problem was that once you actually thought about it, you realized you weren’t entirely sure how long it had been. It had been long enough that you had to start considering technicalities and long enough that the answer became embarrassing and unfortunately, thinking about sex while sitting alone in Scott’s truck immediately led your brain somewhere unhelpful…

Scott eventually climbed back into the truck and shut the door behind him. He didn’t start driving right away, he just sat there in the dark, one hand resting on the wheel while the dashboard lights cut sharp shadows across his face…waiting, because the thing about car questions was that silence usually came first.

“A year and a half,” you blurted out finally. “Give or take.”

Scott’s head turned toward you so fast it almost looked painful. “No,” he said immediately. “I don’t believe that.”

You laughed in disbelief and looked toward him. “Believe whatever you want, Scott. I answered the fucking question. That’s the game.”

“A year and a half?” he repeated, staring at you like you’d confessed to murder. “What the hell do you even do on weekends?”

“Currently?” you replied dryly. “Sit in your truck while you annoy me.”

“No,” he said, already turning the key in the ignition. “You’re irritated because you’re sexually frustrated.”

You barked out another incredulous laugh. 

“And you’ve been sexually frustrated since I met you,” he continued as he shifted the truck into reverse. “Which explains why you piss me off every single fucking day.”

“Excuse you?” You turned toward him fully now, half laughing from sheer disbelief. “First the bra comments and now this? What’s next? Are you gonna set me up with one of your friends so he can fix me?”

“Put your seatbelt on.” The command came out flat and automatic.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t fucking tell me what to do, Scott. I’m not drunk enough to–”

The words died in your throat the second he reached across you.

His arm slid in front of your chest while the truck reversed smoothly with his other hand still turning the wheel. His forearm brushed against the underside of your breasts accidentally…or maybe not so accidentally and your breath caught hard at the sudden closeness. Scott grabbed the seatbelt beside your shoulder, pulled it across your body in one sharp movement, then clicked it into place at your hip without looking away from the rear window once.

You drove home in complete silence.

No radio or conversation, just the steady sound of tires against asphalt and the occasional flick of the blinker while Scott kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead. You’d heard every version of his voice over the last two years, sarcastic, irritated or sharp enough to make grown men defensive in meetings but hearing him tell you to put your seatbelt on while his arm pressed across your breasts had done something deeply unfortunate to your brain.

This was entirely your fault. You were the one who made sex an acceptable topic between the two of you, you were the one who turned it into a game, into background conversation during long drives and late nights. Somewhere along the way home, your definition of good sex had rewritten itself around that precise moment. 

For most people, that probably counted as foreplay, but for you? It counted as a serious fucking problem.

By the time Scott parked outside your house, your thoughts had spiraled so badly that you barely registered the truck stopping. You stayed seated even after he cut the engine, staring forward blankly while the silence settled heavier around you.

Scott got out first without saying anything and walked around the front of the truck toward your side.

The passenger door opened. You looked up just in time to feel him lean in and reach across you again, fingers brushing lightly against the fabric stretched over your waist as he unclipped the seatbelt. The contact lasted maybe a second but that was already too long.

Only then did you finally move. You climbed out quickly, making an effort to keep close to the truck instead of brushing against him, then headed straight for your front door while digging through your purse for your keys even if it was practically empty and somehow that made it worse. You found lip balm…receipts…some loose cash, everything except what you actually needed.

Scott followed behind you quietly.

You still hadn’t found the keys when his arm appeared beside you, reaching around your body with frustrating familiarity. He’d had your keys the entire night, he usually did whenever the two of you went out together because you constantly lost track of them.

The metal clicked softly as he unlocked the door for you.

Your breath stalled as Scott stood so close behind you that you could feel the heat coming off him through the thin fabric of your dress. His chest nearly touched your back, one arm still braced near your shoulder while he turned the lock. It boxed you in completely, your body caught between the door and him and the worst part was that it felt good.

The sharp heat low in your stomach made that painfully obvious.

Good sex, apparently, was standing fully clothed on your own porch while your coworker unlocked your front door…all while standing right behind you.

The lock finally clicked open. You pushed the door open and stepped inside fast to put distance between you before turning back toward him. 

Determination sat stiffly in your chest now…You were staying dressed. Whatever this weird tension was had to be alcohol-fueled, temporary, deeply stupid or preferably all three and gone by morning.

Unfortunately, Scott looked unfairly good standing on your porch under weak yellow light.

At some point he’d taken off his cap, you didn’t know when and hadn’t realized until now. Why did he look dreamy!? His hair was messy from running his hands through it all night and the expression on his face had settled back into that unreadable calm that somehow made things worse.

“Night, Scott,” you said quickly, then shut the door directly in his face…very determined to remain dressed.

“Are you gonna set me up with one of your friends so he can fix me?” That sentence replayed in your head later for one humiliating reason: Scott Miller had never been the kind of man to hand off work he could do himself.

You’d been wrong earlier, completely wrong.

Great sex didn’t happen on weekends or after parties or during long-awaited moments with somebody you trusted. Sometimes it happened five minutes after you slammed your front door in a man’s face and tried convincing yourself you still had common sense.

You stayed standing by the door after closing it, palms warm against the wood, waiting to hear his truck start. You expected the familiar sound of the driver’s side door opening, shutting and the low rumble of the engine before he pulled away but nothing happened.

At first you told yourself you were imagining the silence because you were still too aware of him…then a full minute passed…followed by another and then three more.

Five long, miserable minutes where your brain refused to focus on anything except the fact Scott was still outside your house.

You opened the door expecting embarrassment or maybe annoyance, maybe him realizing he forgot something. Instead, he was still standing there in the same position with that same unreadable expression, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans like you hadn’t just shut the door on him…five minutes ago.

You stared at each other for a second too long.

You never figured out what exactly snapped first. Pride, self-control or curiosity…maybe all of it at once again.

One second he was standing on your porch and the next you were grabbing a fistful of his shirt and pulling him forward hard enough to make him stumble into you as your mouth crashed against his.

The moment the door clicked shut behind you, the fragile determination to stay dressed shattered. You didn't just invite Scott in, you practically hauled him across the threshold, pulling him into a kiss that tasted of alcohol and months of suppressed frustration. It was messy and desperate, a collision of teeth and tongues that left you both breathless.

You stumbled backward, the friction of your bodies fueling a fire that had been simmering for far too long. As you navigated the space, your heels clicked erratically against the floor until you kicked them off with frantic movements, one flying toward the wall and the other sliding away as you backed into the dining area.

You hit the edge of the heavy wooden table and Scott didn't miss a beat. He gripped your waist with bruising force and hoisted you up, the sudden elevation making you gasp into his mouth. He didn't stop kissing you but his path shifted, lips sliding down your jawline to your neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. His hands were everywhere, frantic and demanding, sliding up the fabric of your dress and bunching it up around your waist until your thighs were bare and shivering against the cool wood.

You felt his fingers hook into the elastic of your panties, tugging them down with a sharp, decisive motion until you could kick them off, exposing you to the air. As he lowered himself, his mouth found the swell of your breasts through your dress, biting lightly against the fabric on his way down between your legs.

"You don't need to do that," you managed to moan, your voice trembling as he moved your weight, sliding you toward the edge of the table until you were perched precariously, your legs naturally falling open.

"Shut up," Scott muttered against your skin, his voice a low, arrogant growl that sent a jolt of electricity straight to your clit as he finally settled himself firmly between your thighs, the heat of his body radiating against your wetness. 

Then, he dipped his head. The first touch of his tongue was a shock of heat, it was wet and precise. He dove right in, tongue licking upward from your perineum to your clit in one long, sweeping stroke. You arched your back as a loud moan escaped you since it had been so long since you’d felt anything this raw, this focused. You were starving for it and Scott was feeding off of you with a primal intensity that blurred everything else out.

He used his hands to grip your hips, pulling you closer to the edge so he could bury his face in you as he kneeled. He began to lap at you with a rhythmic, punishing speed, his tongue flattening out to cover as much surface area as possible before narrowing into a sharp point to flick relentlessly against your clit.

The sensation was overwhelming. You began to squirm, hips jerking instinctively against his mouth as your fingernails clawed at the tabletop. You weren't just enjoying it, you were unraveling.

"Fuck…Scott...please," you whimpered, though you didn't know what you were asking for.

He responded by changing your position. He pushed you flat onto your back on the table, the hard wood pressing into your spine and hauled your legs up, draping them over his broad shoulders. The position left you completely exposed, your pussy flared open and glistening in the dark room.

He didn't stop the oral but added more by sliding two fingers deep inside you, stretching you open while his tongue continued to hammer away at your clit. The combination of the internal pressure and the external friction was too much. You were shaking, breath coming in short, jagged gasps as your feet drummed against his back.

He could tell you were close, encouraging him to increase the pressure, fingers curling inside you to hit your G-spot while his tongue sucked your clit into his mouth, creating a vacuum of pleasure that felt like it was pulling your entire soul out through your cunt.

“Holy s-shit!” Your head thrashed from side to side, a loud, unrestrained scream tearing from your throat as the orgasm hit you like a freight train. It was violent and all-consuming, your internal muscles clamping down hard on his fingers as waves of intense pleasure crashed over you, leaving you whimpering and twitching on the table.

As the peak slowly subsided, Scott didn't pull away immediately. He stayed there, his breath hot against your sensitive skin, slowly lapping the remaining juices from your pussy. He cleaned you thoroughly, his tongue lingering on every inch of your swollen cunt until you were completely spent, lying limp and shivering on the table, finally satisfied.

He straightened slowly from between your legs, chest rising hard with uneven breaths that matched your own. His mouth was swollen and wet when he licked across his lips absentmindedly, eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made heat crawl back under your skin even while your body still twitched from the orgasm.

From your place sprawled across the dining table, you stared up at him in stunned silence. Your thighs were still trembling now against his sides and you were almost certain your expression looked ridiculous, wide-eyed and dazed in a way you hadn’t allowed yourself to look around another person in years.

Scott held a hand out toward you and you took it automatically.

He helped you sit up first before guiding you carefully off the table, one hand steady on your waist while your legs struggled to cooperate beneath you. The second your feet touched the floor, your knees nearly gave out entirely.

Scott wiped his mouth with his palm. “Goodnight,” he said and the gentleness of it caught you off guard more than anything else that night had.

His hand slipped away from your waist and the two of you just stood there for a second, staring at each other while trying and failing to breathe normally again.

Then Scott turned and walked toward the front door.

You stayed frozen in place while he opened it and left your house without another word. A few seconds later you finally heard the sounds you’d been waiting for earlier, the truck door opening, shutting and the engine starting before he drove off into the night.

You tried walking toward your bedroom afterward and immediately realized your legs barely worked. You ended up half stumbling down the hallway, one hand dragging along the wall for balance because your entire lower body still felt weak and oversensitive.

Great sex…that had been unbelievably, painfully great sex.

You thought about it constantly afterward. In the shower, during calls and meetings, while sitting in traffic or lying awake at night staring at the ceiling with your thighs pressed together. You didn’t mention it to your friends or talked to Scott about it, even during the long stretches of silence that filled the truck during drives. The two of you understood what happened without discussing it directly, you’d crossed a line and both of you seemed aware that talking about it too much would probably drag you over it again.

The following mornings, you waited for him outside on your porch instead of letting him walk into your house like usual. Mostly because you’d spent the entire week masturbating to the memory of him between your legs on your dining table before getting ready for the day and you didn’t trust yourself to survive seeing him inside your kitchen before sunrise.

For one solid week, you slept perfectly. No insomnia or late-night work spirals, no pacing around rooms or answering emails at one in the morning just to keep your brain occupied. Whatever tension usually sat under your skin had disappeared completely and now it sat between you both instead.

Every drive felt heavier, the silence stretched longer and every sharp inhale from him made your stomach tighten unexpectedly until eventually you got sick of pretending neither of you noticed it.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” you interrupted suddenly.

Scott glanced toward you briefly, eyes leaving the road for barely a second before returning forward. “Do you want to?” he asked.

“I don’t,” you admitted. “I feel like you do though.”

“You’re right.”

You snorted quietly and looked back down at the laptop balanced across your knees. 

“I thought you liked being right.” Scott added.

“Fucking love it,” you replied automatically before grimacing. “Usually.”

Silence settled again until you broke it. “Okay,” you sighed eventually. “Maybe one thing.” You turned to him properly this time. “I wasn’t that drunk that night. Actually, I wasn’t drunk at all. I had that one beer before we left my place and the rest were mocktails.”

Scott turned his head enough to study your face for a second. “I wouldn’t have touched you if you were drunk,” he said flatly. “I’m an asshole, not fucking stupid.”

You leaned back against the seat slowly. “Even that’s changed.”

His brows furrowed. “What does that mean?”

“The coffee for starters,” you said. “The lunches, too. You stopped buying disgusting gas station sandwiches and now we actually eat dinner out like normal people.” You gestured vaguely toward him. “You used to hand me coffee with five sugar packets on the side because you couldn’t remember how I took it. Now it’s magically perfect every fucking morning.”

Scott adjusted his grip on the steering wheel.

“I thought eating around other people would make this less weird,” he admitted. “And I got tired of sugar packets all over my truck.”

“Our truck,” you corrected automatically before pointing at him accusingly. “And nothing about this is normal, Scott! You ate me out on my dining table!”

“Stop yelling at me.” His tone stayed frustratingly calm.

“Why?” you shot back. “Is it making you hard?”

Scott shifted in his seat hard enough that you noticed instantly. Both his hands locked tighter around the steering wheel while he stared straight ahead at the road. The tension in his jaw became visible because unfortunately for him, you weren’t wrong.

The last week had changed things. You looked less exhausted and less tightly wound. You hadn’t snapped at him once during work and he hadn’t gotten a single unhinged one a.m. email from you all week because for the first time since he’d met you, you were actually sleeping.

“So when are we doing it again?” he asked finally, against every ounce of common sense he had left.

NEVER…that should’ve been the answer. It was the logical answer, the responsible one, the answer two coworkers with already questionable boundaries should’ve landed on immediately.

It just wasn’t the truth.

You had always maintained that getting fucked couldn’t happen in motel rooms. It didn't matter how good the sex was, the second cheap carpet, bad lighting and a rattling air conditioner got involved, the whole thing dropped several levels automatically. 

Motel sex could be great, sometimes even memorable but it couldn’t be that, so the next time it happened definitely wasn’t in a motel room.

The weather that day had turned bad enough to keep everyone grounded but not dangerous enough to send your team chasing storms through three different counties. There was heavy rain, low visibility and too much lightning for comfort but not enough rotation to justify going out.

At some point, without either of you actually saying it outright, waiting the storm out in Scott’s apartment became the plan instead of sitting cramped inside the truck for hours pretending the tension between you didn’t exist.

You still couldn’t pinpoint who made the first move once the elevator doors closed behind you.

One second you were standing beside him soaked at the edges from the rain, listening to distant thunder through the concrete parking garage and the next, Scott’s hand was inside your pants like it belonged there.

You gasped hard into his mouth as his fingers slid against you immediately, already somewhat familiar with exactly what made your hips jerk forward. The kiss that came after barely counted as one, it was messy and distracted, interrupted constantly by your breathing and the quiet sounds you kept failing to swallow down.

The elevator ride lasted less than a minute but by the time the doors opened onto his floor, your orgasm was already hitting you in sharp waves around his fingers while your forehead pressed against his shoulder to keep yourself standing.

If you weren’t already fucked, you were about to be.

You’d been inside Scott’s apartment before. A handful of times after late nights working or when weather reports needed reviewing somewhere quieter than a crowded diner. You remembered the big windows first, stretching across the living room area with a full view of the skyline in the distance. Tonight they framed heavy gray clouds and rain pouring so hard that it blurred the city lights into smears of white and yellow.

Scott barely gave you time to look around because the second the apartment door shut behind you, his hands were on you again. He walked you toward the living room with rough impatience, pulling your pants down from behind while you stumbled against the edge of an armchair. Your underwear followed immediately after, dragged down together in one quick motion before pooling around your ankles.

The air in Scott’s apartment was heavy, charged with the static of the storm raging outside. The gray light of the overcast sky filtered through the windows but the atmosphere inside was scorching.

"Kneel," he commanded as he pointed toward the armchair, his voice a low, authoritative rumble.

You didn't hesitate. The tension that had been building between you for weeks, the unspoken glances and lingering touches, had finally snapped. You sank to your knees on the plush seat, your heart hammering against your ribs. You leaned forward, gripping the headrest with both hands, body already trembling in anticipation. You were completely exposed to him, your ass tilted back and waiting.

Scott disappeared for a moment, leaving you in a silence broken only by the distant roll of thunder. When he returned, the sound of a foil packet tearing echoed in the room. You heard the metallic click of his belt unbuckling and the slide of a zipper.

The anticipation was agonizing. You heard him roll the condom on, followed by the wet sound of him spitting on the head of his cock to make the entry smoother.

He stepped up behind you, heat radiating against your backside. He lined himself up and then, with one powerful, decisive surge, he thrust deep inside you.

You let out a sharp, strangled whine, your fingers digging into the fabric of the headrest. It had been so long since you’d felt a man inside you and Scott was massive. The initial stretch was borderline painful, a blunt force that filled every millimeter of your tight, starving pussy. You blinked rapidly, tears pricking your eyes as your body struggled to accommodate his size, your breath hitching in your throat.

Scott didn't give you time to adjust. He reached forward, his large hands clamping onto your hips with bruising force and yanked you backward, pulling you deeper onto his cock until there was no space left between you.

"I wanna see you," you moaned, your voice broken and desperate, trying to twist your torso around to look at him.

He didn't let you. Instead, he leaned in and sank his teeth into the skin of your shoulder, a sharp bite that made you moan despite your best efforts. His hand moved from your hip to your jaw, gripping it firmly to keep your head pinned forward.

"Just focus," he rasped calmly against your skin, the contrast of his steady voice and his firm grip sending a shiver of submission down your spine.

He let go of your jaw and began to thrust. He didn't start slowly, he hit you with a rhythmic, punishing intensity. The apartment was suddenly filled with the sound of your sudden, loud moans and frantic curses. You collapsed forward, your chest pressed against the headrest, your body jarring with every hit.

As he hammered into you, Scott reached around, his hands finding your breasts. He didn't bother undressing you further, he grabbed your boobs firmly over your clothes, squeezing and kneading them with a rough, possessive grip that matched the violence of his hips.

"I'm gonna fuck you on every surface of this apartment," he growled. "You'll be seeing a lot of me."

The sex quickly became raw and primal and so, so fucking good. The sound of skin slapping against skin, mixed with the wet, rhythmic thud of his pelvis hitting your ass filled the room, competing with the roar of the thunder outside. Every thrust shook your entire frame, quaking your body from your head to your toes. You were whimpering loudly now, the pain of the initial stretch having completely melted into an overwhelming, white-hot pleasure you never thought you could feel.

Your eyes watered, staring out into the distance of the room, the world blurring as the friction built. It was fast, harsh and so perfect that you found yourself wanting to bite the armchair, your teeth sinking into the fabric as your back arched violently. You were unraveling, the long period of abstinence making you hypersensitive to every inch of him.

"I'm right there, keep going! Scott, please! Don’t fuckin’ stop." you whined, voice echoing through the apartment.

He didn't, he instead increased the pace, his thrusts becoming shorter and more frantic, drilling into you with an obsession that felt like he wanted to merge his body with yours. The thunder peaked with a deafening crash that seemed to trigger something inside you.

Suddenly, your internal muscles spasmed. A wave of heat exploded from your core and you felt a sudden, uncontrollable gush of fluid. You were squirting, something that had never happened to you before, the hot spray soaking the armchair and your own thighs. You began to shake uncontrollably, your legs giving out as you sobbed out of pure pleasure into the headrest.

Scott let out a guttural groan, the feeling of you flooding around him driving him over the edge. He loved it, hell, he was obsessed with the way you were falling apart under him. He kept going, ignoring your tremors, continuously driving himself into you as you peaked into a mind-blowing, screaming orgasm that left you completely breathless.

With a final, deep thrust, he groaned loudly, coming hard into the condom.

The momentum stopped abruptly. He stayed buried inside you for a long moment, both of you frozen, chests heaving in unison.

Slowly, he withdrew, the wet sound of his exit punctuating the silence with an obscene pop.

You both watch the rain lash against the glass, the gray light illuminating the wreckage of your passion. You took a long, shuddering breath, body still twitching from the aftershocks as your pussy twitched around nothing, back arching further needily, earning a smack from him.

"Holy fuck," you both breathed simultaneously, the weight of the encounter settling over you in the heavy, humid air.

There was no going back after that day. Not to abstinence, not to disappointing hookups or to pretending sex was something casual and forgettable that fit neatly between work schedules and storm reports.

Once Scott got his hands on you, everything else lost appeal embarrassingly fast.

What started as isolated incidents quickly turned into a pattern neither of you seriously attempted to stop. It was a terrible idea professionally, obviously, but somehow the two of you functioned better afterward. Meetings became easier, long drives felt lighter and you argued less viciously because the tension always had somewhere to go now instead of festering under your skin for weeks.

You started going home together most nights under the excuse of saving gas money. Then showering together afterward became another practical decision because apparently water bills mattered too now. Somewhere between shared coffee in the mornings and him keeping spare clothes for you at his apartment, things moved quietly into something neither of you had planned for and the worst part was that it worked.

The sex stayed incredible. Sometimes rough enough to leave hickeys along your skin and fingerprints fading across your thighs and hips by morning, or other times slow enough that you ended up tangled together for hours afterward while thunderstorms rolled outside the windows. Every now and then he fucked you hard enough to leave you shaking afterward, staring blankly at the ceiling while he stood in the kitchen making you food like that was a normal sequence of events but eventually you realized it wasn’t just about that anymore.

You started having actual dates without calling them dates, it was dinner after work that lasted until restaurants closed around you. You went grocery shopping together because both of you were too exhausted to go separately and you began falling asleep on opposite ends of his couch while weather models played quietly on television screens neither of you were really watching.

Off-season made it worse.

Without constant travel, motel rooms and adrenaline keeping you both distracted, there was finally time to explore whatever this thing between you had become. You drifted naturally between your house and his apartment depending on whose place seemed closer to the office that day. Half your belongings somehow ended up at his place and vice versa. You texted each other constantly during meetings despite sitting twenty feet apart, phones hidden beneath desks while coworkers talked around you.

Scott started bringing your coffee to your desk already made exactly how you liked it before you even decided you needed one. You started buying his preferred cereal without asking if he wanted any. He slept better with you in his bed and you stopped grinding your teeth in your sleep when he stayed over.

So naturally, being made love to finally happened exactly the way you once thought it would and it wasn’t some exaggerated version of romance men convinced themselves they were capable of after two drinks and mediocre conversation.

It sort of snuck up on you. It was Scott pulling you into his lap while both of you were exhausted after work, kissing your shoulder absentmindedly while you read through data on his laptop. It was him waking you up slowly on Sunday mornings with his hand sliding under your shirt and nowhere either of you needed to be. It was sex that lasted forever because he knew your body well enough to take his time with it, knew exactly what made you gasp, what made your legs tense and what made you hide your face against his neck when the pleasure became too much.

He paid attention and it made all of the difference. Scott learned your body like he learned storm patterns, thoroughly and obsessively, until touching you became instinct to him and it showed…

The morning light filtered through the curtains of your bedroom in soft, golden slats, painting the sheets in hues of amber and cream. The house was silent, save for the rhythmic sound of your shared breathing and the distant chirp of birds welcoming the dawn. You were tangled together, skin on skin, the warmth of the duvet trapping the heat of your bodies in a private, humid cocoon.

There was no rush, no storm to outrun and no urgency born of desperation. There was only the heavy, sweet weight of Scott pressing you into the mattress. You were both fully naked, your limbs entwined in a lazy, possessive knot.

Scott began slowly, his lips tracing a path of fire across your collarbone. He wasn't just kissing you, he was tasting you, tongue swirling against your skin in slow circles that made you shiver. He moved lower, mouth finding the sensitive curve of your breast as you let out a soft, airy moan. He took your nipple into his mouth, sucking firmly while his thumb and forefinger pinched the other peak, twisting it just enough to send a jolt of electricity straight to your core.

You arched your back, your fingers sliding into the thick hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. The friction of his chest against your breasts was intoxicating, the rough hair of his torso grazing your sensitive skin.

He shifted, sliding his body up so he could look into your eyes. His gaze was dark, filled with an intensity that felt more overwhelming than any of the rougher encounters you'd had. He didn't move to flip you or push you into a different position, instead, he settled between your thighs in a classic missionary stance and pushed inside. There was no latex barrier this time, no clinical snap of a condom. It was raw, wet and absolute. 

The sensation of his bare skin sliding against yours was a revelation. You gasped, your eyes fluttering shut as you felt the full, throbbing heat of him filling you completely. It felt different, more intimate and permanent. The lack of a barrier made every ridge of his cock feel amplified, every pulse of his blood echoing against your own internal walls.

He didn't start with the punishing pace of the past. Instead, he began to rock, his movements slow and agonizingly deep. He pressed his palm flat against your stomach, pushing down firmly to tilt your pelvis, ensuring that every thrust hit the deepest part of you.

"Gripping me like a fucking vise…so perfect." he groaned, his voice a gravelly morning rumble that vibrated through your chest.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, locking your ankles to pull him even deeper. You were lost in the rhythm, the slow, sliding friction creating a build-up of tension that felt like a tightening coil in your belly. You ran your hands through his hair, your nails lightly scratching his scalp as you moaned into the first rays of the morning sun.

The intimacy was suffocating in the best way possible. As he continued to rock, his movements grew slightly more urgent, the slow glide turning into a passionate, driving force. He leaned down, his lips brushing against yours, tasting the salt and sweetness of your skin while he continued to pinch and tease your nipples, hand roaming your curves with a familiarity that spoke of a deep, obsessive knowledge of your body.

It didn’t take long for your breath to become shallow, chest heaving as the pleasure began to peak. You could feel the walls of your pussy clenching around him, milking him with every deep stroke. Your body tensed, toes curling into the sheets as a wave of heat crashed over you. You cried out, a long, melodic sound of surrender, as your orgasm ripped through you in slow, pulsing waves that left you shaking beneath him.

Scott didn’t slow his pace as his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing heavily. He continued moving, the intimacy of the connection almost too much to bear.

"Want to be done?" he whispered, his voice strained, muscles trembling with the effort of holding back.

You looked up at him, eyes hazy with pleasure and affection. The thought of him pulling away felt wrong because you wanted everything. You wanted the weight, the heat and the mark of him.

You shook your head with an escaped whimper, pulling his face down to yours. "Don’t you dare pull out…’want you to come inside." You breathed.

The request broke the last of his restraint. Scott let out a guttural sound, a mix of a groan and a sob and began to drive into you with a renewed, primal intensity. It was a desperate, loving hunger. He hammered into you, movements strong and deep, each thrust a claim and a promise.

As he reached his limit, his grip on your hip tightened, fingers digging into your skin. He thrust one last time, burying himself as deep as physically possible and you felt the hot, thick bursts of his cum flooding into you. The sensation of him filling you from the inside out was the most intense feeling you had ever experienced, a physical manifestation of the bond that had grown between you.

In the height of his release, as his body shuddered violently against yours, he gasped out the words he had been holding back.

"I love you," he choked out, the confession raw and unplanned.

The world seemed to stop for a heartbeat. You felt a surge of emotion that rivaled the intensity of the orgasm, a warmth that started in your chest and radiated to your fingertips. You tightened your hold on him, pulling him down for a deep, searing kiss.

"I love you too," you whispered against his lips.

He collapsed onto you, heart drumming a frantic rhythm against your own, both of you spent and glowing in the morning light, finally and completely entwined.

A few years ago, you would’ve hated the idea that Scott Miller of all people would end up teaching you everything worth knowing about sex. It would’ve bruised your ego badly, especially considering how seriously you once took those stupid categories and scales in your head before Scott showed up and ruined all of them completely.

Good sex stopped mattering. 

Great sex became expected.

Getting fucked became routine enough that you lost count somewhere along the line, usually around the third orgasm of the day and definitely before he started dragging you into his lap halfway through work calls just because he felt like bothering you…with his hands and dick.

But somehow, even after all the rough sex and ruined schedules, Scott still managed to make love to you exactly the way you once imagined it should feel.

So if somebody offered you the chance to go back and do it all over again, you would without hesitation.

You were an absolute HR nightmare now and what a fucking delight that was!

A/N: If you enjoyed this story, feel free to explore the archive for more! Liking and reblogging helps others discover my writing and comments always make my day, they’re a huge encouragement for me to keep creating. Thank you so much for reading!

Look at him just chewing the FAWK out of that gum 😭 (wait chew me next)

[tw1sters]

Guess Who?

You’ve mercilessly teased Clark and Scott for how identical they are. Now they’ve turned it around on you and you need to learn to tell who's who.

▸ PAIRING & WC: Scott Miller x F!Reader x Clark Kent — 2.8K ▸ WARNINGS: NSFW 18+, filthy filthy filthy pwp, edging?, mean!scott but that's nothing new, double creampie, oral (m!receiving), taking turns fucking you basically ▸ A/N: brainrot started two weeks ago (half written in the home depot parking lot) and finally completed. this is for @theworstwolvie for always encouraging my messed up ideas, @thceseus for being on the same wavelength of cock guessing, and @kryptidfiles for always triggering me with your david corenswet reblogs <3

↤ main masterlist

You never intended for it to go this far. You’ve always teased the two of them for being practically twins — best friends separated at birth. Clark is all broad shoulders, thick arms with veins running along his biceps like winding rivers, and sweet, shy smiles. Scott is marginally leaner, but you’ve seen the taut muscles of his forearms when he’s at the gym, and he’s got the sharp tongue and mean mouth to make up for it.

Somehow, the two of them have made their friendship work — and you were lucky enough to be brought into the loop.

It started with a comment about how they looked so much alike. Scott adamantly denies this and Clark only gets flustered when you insist that they’re both equally handsome. For some reason, it ends up with your face pressed against the bed and your hips raised to meet them.

Scott pushes you down into the sheets, your face mushed into his mattress, where you’re suddenly breathing in his scent. It’s a heady, masculine cologne that engulfs your senses, intoxicating in a way that only Scott could be. Your heart nearly beats out of your ribcage because you can’t see them. The only way you know that it’s Scott’s hands on your hips, positioning you in front of him, is because Clark is whispering in mild irritation, “This isn’t right, Scott. This is so disrespectful to her.”

“You gonna stop me, Kent? You’re telling me you haven’t been imagining what this pretty pussy looks like all this time?” Scott chuckles, tracing a finger up your bare thighs beneath your skirt. He flips the flimsy fabric up over your ass. “And a thong too — Christ, you’re such a slut, sweetheart.”

“Scott,” Clark chides again and you can imagine the disappointed frown marring his face.

Scott chooses to ignore him, instead focusing on how your pussy’s started leaking already. You can feel your slick folds, even more so when Scott digs his thumb in, pushing the thin string into your moist cunt. “She’s so wet already,” he groans, “you’ve been waiting for this, you little minx. Always fucking pushing our buttons when all you wanted was our cocks, is that it?”

Your denial is muffled even as you turn your face to catch a glimpse of them, a peek at Clark’s guilty face tainted with the greedy way he drinks in your pussy, a look at Scott licking his lips as he pushes his thumb just slightly deeper.

“Why don’t we play a little game?” Scott hums, hooking his finger on your panties as he drags it down your thighs. He doesn’t even bother removing it completely, lets it hang off your right ankle as if to say, you asked for this by wearing this.

“W-what game?” You manage to rasp.

“We’re going to have you figure out who’s who.” Scott murmurs, brushing your hair away from your shoulder as he presses his palm between your shoulder blades again. “We’re both going to fuck you, take turns sinking our cocks into this pretty pussy of yours, and you have to guess whose cock it is.”

Your heart lurches into your throat.

“And if you can get it right five times in a row, you’ll get to cum. How does that sound?”

Like heaven, you traitorous pussy says. Your brain and heart are in a losing battle when you can feel the warm pulse between your legs.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Scott chuckles. “You ready?”

You quickly learn that their similarities extend to the length between their legs. The first time one of them pushes their cock inside, all you can focus on is the burn. They’re big, bigger than anyone else you’ve ever had. This person doesn’t do shallow thrusts, they bury themselves completely inside you until you can feel their hips against your ass. 

“I don’t—” you choke when they pull out and thrust back in, hard. “How am I supposed to know? I’ve never been with either of you,” you whine pathetically, words crumbling into moans as your pussy stretches around the girth. 

“You know us, should know our cocks too.” Scott’s voice is a little breathless.

“Fuck, this is Scott. You’re fucking me,” you whimper. 

“Good girl, but I made it too easy for you. That one doesn’t count.”

“But I guessed correctly!” 

The cock slips out of you with a lewd pop, your own juices leaking down the back of your thighs as you shakily prop yourself up on all fours. You try to turn but the squeezing hand on your hip stops you. 

Then you feel them — two fingers tentatively dragging up the slick down your legs, a subtle little moan, as they spread the sticky mess back up to your pussy. The fingers trace your pussy lips, the carefulness in the movements signal awe, as if you’re being observed like a specimen. 

The fingers ease into you, thick, wiggling until you feel their knuckles against your folds.

“Now whose fingers are these, sweetheart?”

Long, long fingers. They brush up against that spongy part deep inside you that has you twitching. A shudder wracks through your body as they spread said fingers, stretching you out to see inside of your pussy.

“Scott…?” You guess meekly. This has to be a trick question. 

Smack! You jolt forward, more so from the shock of the slap on your ass. The area where the hand landed throbs dully with the sting. “Wrong.”

God, fuck. Tears prick your eyes. Whether it’s from the intensity of the situation or the fact that the people pleaser in you has failed, you can’t tell. 

“Clark,” you moan as he slowly pushes his fingers in and out of you. 

“Good girl,” Clark coos sweetly, “doing so good for me, honey. You’re dripping all over my fingers. Making such a mess, it’s going down to my wrist.”

Your heart beats against your ribs, guilt gnawing at your bones. “‘M sorry, didn’t mean to.”

Clark shushes you with another deep push of his fingers into your quivering cunt. “It’s okay, no need to be sorry. You’re so pretty for us, leaking all over like this. Just means you like us too much.”

“I do, I do,” you agree numbly. 

“We’re going to, um, put—”

“We’re going to fuck you again now,” Scott interrupts, you imagine the roll of his eyes at Clark who would just press his lips together. “Try and focus.”

The cock that slides into you next… feels exactly the same. Same length, same girth, same fucking burn. Your frustration builds in your chest into a vexed whine that slips past your lips. 

Another slap on your ass that catches you off guard. “Focus,” Scott barks, but you can hear the smirk in his voice. 

You do, you’re trying. The cock fucks deep inside you moved in a slow, steady rhythm to the beat of your heart. All you can think about is the delicious stretch that fuels the spark that’s been lit between your legs. 

It feels damn good. Whoever this is knows how to find those little spots inside of you, your trigger points that hurtle you forward into a delirium of pleasure. Every thrust feels intentional. Every thrust is specially made for you.

“C-Clark,” you breathlessly whimper.

The cock stutters inside you, an interruption to the tempo. Your heart drops to your gut with fear.

“There you go,” Scott grunts, “see, you’re getting the good hang of it. Now we’re really ready to play.”

Ready to play— “Haven’t you been counting?” You snap, a little more irritated than you intended. 

“You have to get it right five times in a row. If you mess up, we’re restarting the count.”

We. Scott’s twisted little game and he’s dragging poor, sweet Clark into this.

They take turns soaking their cocks with your cunt. Every time one of them enters you, the burn starts all over again. You’re stretching around their cocks, pussy molding to the shape of them, loosening slowly until you’re moaning with each dip into your little hole. You have bruises in the size of their fingertips on your hips, rough grips on you every time they fuck deep inside of you. 

But Scott doesn’t relent on his game, no matter how close you get. They drive into you like men starved, moans bouncing off the walls like a symphony. The pleasure builds and nearly crests, each time you even come close to guessing five, you always somehow manage to get the last one wrong.

“A-are you doing this on purpose?” You pant, hair a tangled sweaty mess on your face. 

“Dunno what you’re talking about,” Scott says coolly.

A gasp wrenches out of your throat. “Have you just been telling me I’ve been getting it wrong to keep going?”

“You calling us liars, sweetheart?” Scott slaps your ass again, his handprint tingling in the spots he’s been hitting you. “You cum when we want you to cum.”

“M-maybe we should let her, Scott,” Clark groans and you know it’s his cock pushing deep inside you again. He’s gentler between the two of them, but you can feel his self-control faltering when he fucks you a little deeper, a little harder each time. “This isn’t right. She doesn’t want this.”

“Your mouth’s been saying no, Clark, but god, sweetheart, you should see him right now. He’s enjoying this premium pussy if yours. Trying so hard not to moan. Doesn’t she feel so nice and tight? Perfect little toy.” 

A moan climbs out of Clark’s chest, deep and guttural. “Perfect. Perfect toy,” he echoes dumbly. Your cunt clenches around him and he whimpers. “You’re squeezing me so tight, honey. Feels so good. You’re so good to me.” 

“And you—” Scott starts with a pinch of your ass, “you want this as much as we do. Pussy’s gaping now, ready for our cocks. We stretched you out so good, didn’t we? Tighten up that cunt for us. I want to feel it squeeze around my cock when I fuck you next.”

You’re nothing if not obedient, ready to please him — them — because Clark’s fingers sink deeper into your waist as he feels you clamp down around him. 

“You’re so tight,” Clark rasps, “she feels so good.”

“‘Course she feels good,” Scott huffs as he circles you and lifts you to prop up on all fours. He taps the head of his cock, leaking with both his and your arousal, against your lips. “She was made for us.”

Your jaw instinctively drops open and Scott slides him along your tongue. 

“Just like that,” he hisses, “you taste us, sweetheart?” You can only groan in response. 

Scott uses your throat for a while, fucking your mouth by grabbing your head. Your tongue drags along the underside of his cock, eliciting a shudder out of him before he yanks you off again.

“Too close,” he gasps, “I want to cum inside your cunt instead.”

You don’t know how long you stay there, game nearly long forgotten if it weren’t for Scott taunting you over again, laughing when you get it “wrong.” At this point you don’t know the difference, answers tumbling from your lips in a garbled mess.

Every time you get close, whoever it is drags their cock out of you. They bring you to the edge, so close to the peak, only to drag you under again. You’re crying and babbling, begging them to put you out of this misery. 

It’s like being trapped in a maze with no exit, each dead end another point of pleasure that you can’t seem to reach. 

Scott shows no mercy, only coos, “Come on, sweetheart, whose cock is in you right now? Why don’t you use that pretty little head of yours to guess?”

You sputter incoherently, thighs shaking with the weight of your desire. You’re so close, the burning between your legs intensifying to a point where you can practically taste your orgasm. But it may just be delirium — it’s like your climax now feels unfamiliar on your tongue. 

“Let me finish her, Scott, she's crying. I can finish her,” Clark tries to plea on your behalf. 

The cock that’s driving hard and fast abusing your pussy abruptly disappears as Clark stumbles backward, Scott pushing him out of the way. “No, pretty baby can't use her head to figure out who's fucking her, she needs to learn her lesson. We’re gonna keep testing her until she gets it right.”

“Scott, please.” 

“Use your head, you can do it.” 

Through your cockdrunk haze, you only begin to decipher the difference.

It’s not the shape, nor the size, because they’re too close. Too similar. But the way they move, how hard they’re holding you.

Scott is quick and dirty, chasing quick satisfaction for himself in a way that bullies your cunt into submission. Each thrust of his hips is about pace and a test of self-control for him. 

But Clark listens to how you whine and moan, drives himself deep in a slow burn that drags out the pleasure in your core. His hands on your body are firm, but not enough to harm. 

Scott guides the game and gets you close, but it’s Clark who delivers the final blow.

“Clark. It’s Clark!”

“Fuck, she got it right, Kent. She can finally cum now, do you want her to cum?” 

Clark’s face is flushed a deep red, veins on his neck pulsing with his resistance. His jaw is clenched tight, teeth kissing as he hisses when you squeeze around him to Scott’s words. 

“Yes, please, gosh — feels so good. Wanna cum. Wanna see her cum.”

“Flip her over.” 

He doesn’t miss a beat, pulling out of you for barely a second only to turn you on your back and plunge his cock back inside you. He folds your knees into your body as he fucks into you with another needy moan. 

“Feels even better like this,” Clark rasps, “I can see everything. You look so pretty, honey.”

“Clark’s so sweet on you, isn’t he?” Scott chuckles, his fist finding his cock. “Pretty girl deserves some pretty treats. Why don’t you give it to her, Clark? Cream inside her. Look at her, she wants it.”

Clark’s eyes find yours but you can barely keep them open. Not with how good Clark’s giving it to you, his fat cock stretching out every inch of your pussy as he leans down and presses you in deeper into the mattress. You can see the vein on his forehead pulse, control fighting against his need to devour. 

“Can I, honey? Can I cum inside you?” He asks you. So soft, so sweet. So desperate to give you what you need that it makes you whine as you arch off the bed. 

All you can manage is a nod before Clark is shooting his cum inside you, landing warm and sticky, clinging onto your walls. Your pussy squeezes around him, pulsing like a second heartbeat as you tumble down your own pleasure. 

His breaths are hot against your neck as his hips jerk with the last spills into your pussy. You can feel it beginning to leak out from where the two of you are joined, dribbling down your ass and onto the sheets. 

“Alright, Kent, gonna need you to move,” Scott mutters, using his own body to shoulder Clark out of the way. 

Clark’s legs can barely hold himself up, the weight of his climax still hanging off his shoulders. His chest heaves with labored breaths as he watches Scott position himself in front of you, sandwiching himself between your parted legs. 

His thumb pries your pussy open from the lips to see Clark’s cum seeping out. With a hiss, he uses the head of his own cock to nudge that cum back into your cunt and fucks it back into you. “Shit, you feel so good, sweetheart. Clark’s cum is so warm inside you, the perfect lube to fuck you.”

“S-so sore, Scott,” you whimper, the ache between your legs throbbing. 

“I know, baby, but I need to cum too. I won’t take long.”

And he delivers — it only takes him a few more thrusts, every time he enters, he punctuates it with a praise. Fucking beautiful. Look at you. Gorgeous tits. Then he’s finishing inside you and you feel as if you’re about to burst with how much the two have filled you up. Your entire body feels like jell-o, not a single bone or muscle to move you. 

Clark swipes the sweaty strands of hair from your face and presses a kiss to your forehead. Scott drags his cock out of you with a heavy groan. 

The two of them watch in sick, rapt fascination as both their cums leak onto the bed. By this time, Scott’s mattress is a mess of stains — your arousal drenching the sheets and the cum that’s slowly pooling at the edge. 

Even so, Scott only grins, “Think you can tell which cum is whose?” 

clark is saving (taglist): @houseofhyde @phoenix-in-writing @averyhotchner @hailmary-yramliah @catclaw1 @pinksplace @lunexiax @esunarint @nikkitabarnes @lunaryoongie @sergeantsebastian @avgdestitute @natskisses @parker-barnes-af @kelbrave @steviebbboi @onecojg @clarknsun @/kryptidfiles @wildflowersandvibranium @stegosaurussims @angelryex @mollymal @evelynstanmarvel @lokisgirlie @lynnidc @winnichu173 @zhaixiaowen @macbaetwo @rach2602 @garfieldhollander @my-drvidess @deeninadream @lillilam @fruitypebsworld @vivshome @ella-rowen @reenielane @smorgasbrods @jbennsquared @royaljewellerycurator @ruptureedspleen @yelanare @take-it-on-the-run @ghostgirlwrites @hellooiosworld @anon-188 @a-very-fictional-girl @misswhiddless @femmewithmommyissues2001 @stanmarvelous

+ add yourself to my taglists!

[barnesonfilm]

tornado warnings

★ summary: getting trapped in a storm with scott miller was your biggest nightmare. the two of you hated each other from the very beginning. in the chaos of the storm, resistance fades, and something undeniable takes over

★ pairing: scott miller x reader

★ warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, cursing, p in v, hate fucking, car sex, name calling, choking, breeding kink, scott’s an asshole

★ word count: 3.5k

★ notes: twisters summer.. come home the kids miss u. find part two here!

The constant sound of the windshield wipers going back and forth squeaked through the quiet truck. Nothing but that, and the accompanying sounds of the rain hitting the windows, thick silence hanging between the two of you. The darkened cumulonimbus clouds coming in from the east did little to quell the anxiety stirring in your stomach. This wasn’t supposed to turn into a storm chase, but it often does when Scott’s involved. That’s how you ended up here, in the passenger seat of his StormPar truck, on the side of the road in what could be a potentially deadly tornado. 

“Do not say anything.” Scott seethed, the vein protruding from his neck. From the moment the truck tire blew out, he knew a ‘told you so’ was just on the tip of your tongue. Scott and you had been reluctant partners for the past few months, and from the moment you met, you both butted heads.

He was so cocky and sure of himself, you were too headstrong and unwilling to let him always be right. In the field, you were the dream team, but communicating wasn’t without argument. If you two didn’t produce such good numbers, there would be no way you’d be allowed around each other. 

You threw your hands up at him. “I wasn’t gonna say anything.” You lied, you did tell him it looked flat at the last stop, but he insisted it wasn’t a big deal. God forbid you were right about anything. 

“Triple A said they have to wait for the storm to pass.” He grumbled, frantically typing on his phone. You kept your attention elsewhere, doing your best to keep quiet. The last thing you wanted to do was be stuck in this truck for hours with a pissed off Scott. 

“Isn’t there a spare? We could just change it.” You offered up, but this was shot down with an incredulous scowl. 

“In a thunderstorm producing 70 miles per hour winds? Be my guest.” 

Throwing your head back onto the headrest, you rolled your eyes at him. “Well, I really don’t wanna be stuck here if that,” You gestured to the laptop with the radar on it, “decides to head this way. I don’t plan on dying with you. No offense.”  

“Oh, none taken.” He copied your eye roll, his arms crossing over his chest. A telltale Scott sign that he was about to start pitching a fit. That and the tick of his jaw that was soon to appear. 

You could see his muscles straining against his white button-up shirt out of the corner of your eye. Your brain conjures up images of that same arm putting you in a headlock from behind, while he puts all of his body weight on top of you, all to the soundtrack of the windshield wipers continuing to screech against the windshield.

These past few months on the road had been sexually frustrating; maybe this had projected itself onto Scott solely due to proximity, right? Right? 

“Maybe you could keep an eye on the radar.” He snapped again, his jaw finally ticking. Bingo. 

“Or maybe you could, since you are the one who got us into this mess.” You snapped back, twisting in your seat to stare at the man head-on. 

“Oh, here you go,” He let out a malicious laugh, “God, I can’t believe I actually thought you’d stay quiet for once.” 

Despite his arrogance, you pulled the radar up, and the storm pattern still seemed to be on track. “Nothing yet. Perfect conditions. Still miles away. Asshole.” You made sure to grumble the last part under your breath. 

You weren’t even really sure why the two of you bickered so badly sometimes; it just came out like second nature when you were around each other. A language of violence was all you two understood. From the moment you met him, an enthusiastic smile on your face. Fresh meat to the team, he took one look over at you and told you that you’d last a week. From then you’ve been at each other’s throats. 

“Thank you.” The sarcasm was laced in his voice, staring into the rainclouds above us. 

“Are we really just stuck here?” 

“Oh my god-” 

“I’m literally just asking!” You cut him off, your voice rising at him. 

“Has anything changed in the past?” He pretended to look at his watch angrily, “I don’t know 45 seconds?” 

“You know what? I actually hope this storm kills us both.” The moment the words left your mouth, thunder struck loudly in the distance, and the truck rattled. You flinched in reflex, Scott eyeing you warily. 

“Scared of a little thunder, Y/n?” He mocked, looking at you for what felt like the first time since you had stopped. His eyes roamed over your frame, your cheeks flushed with frustration. 

“Why? Wanna play white knight and protect me?” 

“In your dreams.” He rolled his eyes, turning in his seat to keep his eyes on you. His muscles strained against his shirt when his elbow came down on the center console angrily. 

“Oh, please.” You snorted, pretending as if you weren’t imagining him bending you over just mere moments ago. “You couldn’t even protect me from a flat tire. I’m supposed to believe you’d keep me safe from a tornado?” 

His eyes stayed on yours, an expression you couldn’t quite place. It looked like he wanted to bark another insult your way, or maybe he wanted to pull you over the seat and have his way with you. Both of you were broken apart by the staring contest when both of your phones pinged with the all too familiar Tornado Warning alert. 

Your stomach filled with dread. Both of you had faced down countless storms and tornadoes, but none of them had been while you were stranded without shelter or a moving vehicle. 

He leaned over the seat to peer at the radar, his body heat warming up your side with how close he was. His eyes squinted nervously, dragging the map around. 

“Bickering aside, do you think we’ll be okay?” Your voice was quiet, the wind howling around the vehicle. 

He took a moment to respond, his brain analyzing the wind patterns and the storm's trajectory. 

“I thought you hoped the storm killed us both.” His voice was quieter than before, as if he was trying his best to joke without his usual malicious intent behind it. 

“Well, that was earlier. This is now.” You rushed out, watching him work. 

“I think we’ll get hit with this,” He pointed to the radar, “See this here? The convergence here could be a potential downburst. But that’s the worst of it. The rest is East over here.” 

His tone was different from what you’ve ever heard him speak before. Normally, when he’s showing you something, he’ll end with a snide comment or treat you as if you should’ve known. Now he seemed calm, almost gentle with you. 

“So it should probably blow over within the hour. At least enough for help to come.” You hypothesized, trying to focus solely on the screen and not his fingers as they danced around it. 

“Exactly.” He let out a soft smile, leaning back into the driver's seat. You were relieved but also a little disappointed when the distance grew between you once again. 

“So we just have to try not to kill each other for an hour.” You realized, a smirk quipping on your lips. 

A hearty chuckle left his throat, his eyes back on you. “I guess we should get comfortable, too.” 

You unbuckled and brought your knees up to your chest, watching as he leaned his seat back a little, giving his tall frame more room to breathe. 

“Don’t put your shoes on the seat.” He barked out, breaking the level of camaraderie the last few minutes had built up. 

“Oh my god, you’re such a hard ass.” You groaned, throwing your feet back to the floor in frustration. 

He mumbled some curses under his breath, turning away to look out the window like a child. Minutes passed by slowly, as you did your best to stay busy. You scrolled on your phone, played stupid games, and even checked the radar religiously every time a large thunderclap shook the ground. Scott barely shuffled from his position staring out the window; it was as if he was counting the raindrops hitting the glass. Tension radiates off of him in waves. 

You tried your best to keep your mind elsewhere, but you were so exhausted of him hating you. From day one, he never even gave you a chance. Between that and the obnoxious sound of the worn-out blades still going, you felt like you were going insane. It was another ‘told you so’ waiting to happen, the blades wore out a state ago. 

“It truly cannot be that horrible being around me.” You snapped, your sudden yell causing him to flinch. 

He whipped his head around to look at you, jaw ticking. Having the gall to be shocked at your outburst, as if this wasn’t months in the making.  “I’m sorry?” 

“Come on!” You laughed sarcastically, pointing at him, “You’re literally shaking in anger just being around me.”

“Newsflash! Not everything is about you, Y/n! I don’t know if you realized, but we’re stranded. Sorry, I’m not jumping for joy or asking to make friendship bracelets-” 

“You know that’s not what I mean. You’ve been a complete asshole to me from the day we met. I put up with it, and I know I’m a bitch back to you, but you never even gave me a chance.” The words tumbled out of your mouth before you could take a breath. Another screech of the wipers fills the space between your words. 

His eyes were wide in shock, “I’m sorry, I don’t wanna hold your hand and walk into the sunset with you-”

Screech

“Please, for the love of god, turn off the wipers.” You cut him off with a yell, the sound making you finally hit your breaking point. 

“No.” He said calmly, eyes still ablaze. 

“No?” You laughed, furrowing your brows at him. He simply repeated himself in the same eerily calm tone. 

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” You seethed, leaning over the seat to flip them off yourself. As soon as you leaned over, he gripped your arm in his hand, stopping you. His hand easily wraps around your wrist, pinning it to his chest. 

“Let. Me. Go.” You tried to rip, thrashing around like a wild animal. 

“I said no.” He had an amused look on your face that only fueled your rage even more. Without thinking, you sat up on your knees, half your body now leaning into his personal space, still fighting his hold to hit the gear shift. 

“Fucking asshole, just turn the fucking-” Your grumbling was cut off by realizing in the jumbled fight, you were now face to face, his arms gripping your wrists in his hands. Your stomach is pressing into the center console harshly. 

In the split second, you both realized just the position you had ended up in. You could see his watercolor eyes up close, the tension in his brow. A deep part of you yearns to reach up and wipe away all of his tenseness. Both of your chests rose in anger, and something else was simmering down deeper than you had time to understand. A few moments of your breath mingling together before your lips were on his. 

You’re still unsure who leaned in first, who took the first leap, because all you remember is the ferocity with which your lips connected. Teeth gnashing together so hard you were worried there’d be blood to lick off his lips. And you would have greedily accepted it, whatever he gave you. Neither of you cared. His hands freed your wrists and found your hips, fingers digging sharply into your hip bones. Soon, you were lifted over the console onto his lap, his grip tight. His body heat suffocated as your hands found his shoulders. The two of you are moving in a silent dance. 

Lips only parting for sharp breaths as if separating, you’d both have to deal with the consequences of your actions. His bulge was prominent against your jean-clad thighs, his khakis straining at the weight of you grinding against him. 

“You’re such a fucking asshole.” You seethed against him, the words going into his open mouth as he continued kissing you. He made no response, simply reaching up to grab a fistful of your hair, yanking hard. Yelping into his mouth. He swallowed the yelp, his tongue coaxing another one out of you. 

“Fucking bitch.” He grunted out. 

“The same bitch you’re getting hard from.” You managed to rip away from his mouth, pulling the hat off his head and throwing it into the backseat. “I hate your stupid hats.” 

“See what I said. Such a fucking-“ You cut his words off by slapping your hand over his mouth. 

“I’m sure this mouth could be used for better things. So let’s be quiet, huh?” 

In response, he pulled you closer, connecting your lips once again. You took this as a win, reaching down and trying to fumble with his belt. In a haze, your jeans popped open, his own pants getting pulled down. It was a frantic mess in the tight space. 

Once your jeans were thrown haphazardly around the truck, you were content to crawl back onto his lap, his hands coming up and pulling your shirt down. Mouthing harshly at your tits, trying to free them from fabric. 

“Take it off.” He demanded, his hands squeezing tight on your ass, making use of the new exposed flesh.

“Could at least say please.” Grumbling under your breath when you tossed the shirt off, too, thankful for the harsh rain and the tinted windows. Both of you are hidden under the viscous storm, mirroring the passion between you. 

“Not begging you for anything.” 

“Your cock says otherwise, asshole.” You shifted your hips again, rutting against the outline in his boxers. When his eyes narrowed on yours, you knew you messed up. One of his hands comes around and pulls your underwear aside, his fingertips wasting no time in running up your slit. The wetness was evident, nearly pooling on his hand. 

“Asshole?” He mocked, circling your entrance harshly, “The same asshole that has your pussy drenched? Clenching around nothing, are you?” 

His cruel words went straight to your clit, only adding more fuel to the fire. Your bark arched against the steering wheel, aching to be touched. 

“Fuck you.” You seethed, refusing to beg him for anything. 

“Yeah, you want to, huh? Just aching for my cock.” He was determined to break you, acting as if his cock wasn’t leaking from the tip in need. 

“Don’t act like you don’t want this just as bad as I do.” You spat, reaching down to palm him harshly, his hips bucking up into your hand. Wasting no time in pulling him out of his boxers. His thick length was swollen, the tip red and leaking. “Look at that. Trying to fuck up into my hand. Pathetic.” 

“Shut. Up.” His hand ripped your underwear to the side, just enough to slide himself into you in one go. His breath hitched as your hips met. No preparation and no hesitation. The stretch burned, but it was exactly what you wanted. What you needed from him. Zero time was wasted; his hips immediately pistoning into yours. 

“Fuck.” You whimpered, bracing your hands on his shoulders while his dug into your hips, sliding you up and down on him.

“This is exactly what you wanted, huh?” He breathed out, helping you get into a good rhythm. “Just dripping down my cock.” 

“All you're good for.” Your words were slurred, your tits bouncing in his face as your thighs ached already with the frantic movements. Both of you are so desperate to reach your highs, using each other for sheer selfish pleasure. 

“That’s no way to speak to someone who’s fucking you s-stupid.” He stuttered on the last word, moaning when he hit that perfect spot inside you. Your eyes were rolling into the back of your head, and you had no retort because he was indeed fucking you stupid. 

All you could manage was another ‘fuck you’ before his hand gripped your throat, giving you the tiniest of squeezes. Cutting off the flow of oxygen at the perfect time, his cock hits the parts of you that made your legs quiver. 

“Feel you squeezing me, slut. Know you wanna cum. Cream on my cock.”  He panted, squeezing just a little tighter. You were seeing stars, your cunt spasming around him, your orgasm hitting you like a ton of bricks the moment he let the air back into your lungs. 

“There you go. There you go. You can listen, huh?”  He cooed, his hand cradling your limp body, his hips never faltering. You didn’t have any sarcastic retort for him, too blissed out by how he was splitting you apart. The aftershocks make your skin tingle against his. 

Another weak moan of his name slipped from your mouth, noticing how his own hips were stuttering. His own high approach. Slowly regaining your strength, you braised yourself, grinding your hips into his. 

“Gonna come?” His head slammed onto the headrest, his eyes focused on your blissed-out face. Teeth sunken into his bottom lip, he gave you a small nod. His eyes were frantic and pleading. “Beg for it.” 

His cock twitching inside you didn’t stop his attitude as he shot you an eye roll. 

“I said. Beg. For. It.” Your hips stalled, his hands immediately grabbing your hips, trying to continue his thrusts. Both of you are trading off dominance, the truest display of just how much the two of you clashed. 

“I’m not fucking-“ He started, you cutting him off by lifting yourself off of him, your release coating his length. 

“W-wait, please.” His surrender made your cunt pulse, freezing where just the tip was inside you. 

“Please, what?” 

“Make me cum.” He grumbled, his face flushing red. 

You tsked. “See? Wasn’t so hard to be good.” 

Content with his answer, you sat back down on his lap, reaching your hands up to tangle them in his hair. Riding him like there was no tomorrow, the ache in your thighs didn’t compare to the filthy moans he was letting out. 

“Oh, baby.” The nickname slipped out with a grunt, his cock twitching inside you. 

“Yeah? You wanna cum in this pussy don’t you?” Your grip on his hair got tighter, forcing him to look up at you, “Look in my eyes and say that or I'll stop.” 

His eyebrows squinted, his ego fighting as he chased off his building orgasm. “I’m n-not saying-“ 

“I’ll stop.” You threatened, immediately slowing your hips down once again. Not even half a second later, he was caving, bucking wildly up into you. “You know I will.” 

“No. No, please don’t stop. I wanna cum in this pussy,” He begged, not even caring how pathetic he sounded. “I’m gonna cum please make me cum.” 

“Come on, baby. Fill this pussy up.” You demanded, his mouth open in a pathetic drool as he came inside you. His heavy whines filled the truck as you milked him for every last drop. 

There was little time to bask in the afterglow when his phone started ringing, awkwardly you pulled off him, shuffling into the passenger seat. You shimmied on your bottoms while he shoved himself back in his pants and took the call. Your legs were shaking, and your head was swimming. If it wasn’t for the ache between your thighs, you’d believe that was just another twisted fantasy of yours. 

Scott pulled you out of your thoughts by clearing his throat. “That was Javi. Storm died out. He’s gonna get us. Triple A won’t be here for hours. We’ll fix the truck tomorrow.” Short, clipped, and straight to the point. 

All you could do was nod. By the time Javi came to pick the two of you up, the rain had died down to a drizzle. Once in the comfort of the fully working StormPar truck, Javi wasted no time with the jokes. 

“Wow, guys. That storm beat the shit out of you, huh?” Scott’s jaw ticked, making it a point not to address you at all. 

“You know I'm honestly surprised you two didn’t kill each other out there.” Javi continued. 

“We got close to it.” Scott barked out, anger written all over his features. You should’ve known the emotionally constipated Scott Miller would act this way. 

All you could do was let out a soft chuckle, Javi looking back in confusion. “Yeah, we’ll make sure that never happens again.” 

Your eyes met Scott’s from the rearview mirror, him giving you his signature scowl. Underneath that, there was something else. Like both of you knew it was a lie. You tuned out the men's chatter, only being able to think about Scott’s cum that was currently dripping out of you, the last physical reminder of what just happened. 

[acdeaky]

cargo pants pocket

summary: your relationship with scott is one of your best kept secrets, but when he gets injured during a storm, all that effort goes out the window

warning: fluff and angst (heavy on the angst but the fluff is filtered throughout and it ends real sweet), secret but established relationship, mentions of drinking and reader being tipsy, reader being kinda mean but it’s to hide her and scott, heavy petting/making out, scott being anxious, lil bit of swearing, small detail of a cut, mention of blood and minor injury, brief mention of nudity

note: the people wanted scott, so i present thee with scott. also, i absolutely love this gif and i imagine that it’s scott being enamoured by reader in this

word count: 12.0k (buckle up, i clearly had a lot to say)

the stingy motel room had a lingering scent of musk, scott’s cologne and your shampoo. it was still early, far too early for you to think about getting out of bed, especially since the sun hadn’t even shown itself yet. but scott was up and dressed, just doing up the final buttons on his shirt before making the short trip back to his motel room that’s been unoccupied for the last two nights.

it’s a sight to see: he’s yet to put on his grey hat, his cargo pants high on his hips with his favourite belt holding them up; you can just see the sliver of his black undershirt from the collar of his white one and he tucks it into his waistband. his broad shoulders fill out the two shirts perfectly, the sleeves straining over his biceps as he adjusts the top buttons. you can only see the back of him, but your view from the bed of him facing the mirror is enough. enough to see his little freckles from the sun, enough to see his tongue peek out slightly from his lips as he sorts his shirt.

you smile at the sight, knowing he’s leaving in a few minutes, but you absolutely love watching him get ready to go.

when he’s happy, he turns around to face you, grabs his hat, phone and wallet off the opposite bedside table and makes his way around to your unofficial side of the bed. he stands tall beside you, waiting for you to lean up slightly before bending down and pressing a short kiss on your lips. you both smiled, faces only centimetres away from each other before kissing him again.

and, as always, you slip something into his cargo pants pocket. today, a new stick of gum; he was starting to run out of his cinnamon flavour.

“i’ll see you in a bit, okay?” he whispers, not moving away from you at all.

“okay. i’ll see you in a bit.” you smiled, pressing one last kiss on his lips before pushing his chest away and laughing at his laugh.

“menace,” came one last whisper, “breakfast at 7:30, yeh?”

“7:30, got it.” you threw him an exaggerated thumbs up as he opened the door slowly, watching left and right for anyone there and leaving without a trace.

you fell backwards onto the bed, a smile never leaving your face as you turned and pushed your head back into the pillows. the sheets still smelt like him. hell, the whole room still smelt like him. and you really couldn’t complain because those moments that you have at night and the moments you have in the morning are all you have to get you through the day.

it’s not that you didn’t want to let people know you were with scott, you weren’t worried about what they’d say. but it was still early. it’d only been a few months and you were completely enamoured with each other. the only worry was your jobs, and what it would mean if people knew. his uncle was the main investor, so scott was kind of like the leader of the group. you weren’t. and that could cause issues.

so you kept it quiet, taking any and every moment you could get with each other in the quiet of your motel room, stealing glances at each other across parking lots and watching as he drove head first into some of the worst tornadoes you’ve ever seen. but if that’s how it had to be, that’s how it was.

you staked your claim on him last night under the cover of darkness and this morning with a new pack of gum.

just as scott asked, you were down for breakfast on time. there were a few little groups of the team chatting away with each other and you said morning to each of them as you passed. it didn’t take long to spot javi, kate and scott by the lion truck, both of the guys leaning against the bed as they went over the plans for the day. as much as you wanted to join him, you left them with just a good morning and headed over to the small group of girls of the team, missing only kate, but she was busy doing her job.

scott couldn’t describe how difficult it was to just nod at you each morning, watching as you walked past him like he was just another colleague and joined your friends. he had to stop himself from reaching out to you, wanting nothing more than to pull you into his arms and show everyone exactly how he felt about you. but he didn’t. he couldn’t. not yet, anyway.

after everyone had eaten, you had the normal debrief from javi and scott went over the plans for the day. it was the same as usual: storms coming from the west and the east, moving to and from different places to wait for when a tornado formed and actually looked like it would stay instead of suffocating itself. the group dispersed, heading to their designated vehicles and it wasn’t long after that you got your usual text from scott. a short ‘be safe’ was all you got, just in case anyone saw, and you text back the exact same with a little heart after it.

it's a slow day of chasing tornadoes, a lot of standing around parking lots and waiting for the weather to turn bad. you don't mind days like this, it was a nice difference compared to constantly being on the move and driving into storms. it gave the whole team a chance for some down time, even javi and scott who always seemed to be on edge when working, and also allowed you a chance to actually see scott, instead of hearing his voice over the ear pieces everyone wore.

you could situate yourself to face him, still talking in whatever group you joined whilst having a perfect view of him leaning against the truck, either talking to javi and kate or typing away on his laptop. some days you felt like you could stare at him for hours, watching as the little vein in his neck popped out when he was stressed or thinking hard about something, watching as he shifted from one foot to another after standing up for too long. seeing the outline of whatever gift you'd slipped into his cargo pants pocket that morning appear and disappear as he moved.

and those moments when he looked over and caught you staring? they were the best moments, because he always gave you a knowing smile, letting his own eyes cast up and your body before looking away and focusing back on his work. it's like he knows when you're staring, like he has a sixth sense that's honed directly on you. but he also knows when you're not looking at him, when you're so focused on your conversation with someone that he has the freedom to study you, take all of you in and hold himself back from closing the gap and taking you in his arms.

by the time the evening came around, everyone was still wired from the day. having few tornadoes to chase meant everyone still had some energy, and it was decided that the team would head to the bar across from the motel to have a few drinks, get some food and relax before heading back to their rooms. javi and scott stayed behind with the trucks, having the excuse of needing to talk to riggs about the day and adjust the plan for tomorrow. a few heads nodded as others had already turned towards the bar, naturally falling into similar groups from earlier in the day and strolling towards the welcoming lights spelling out HENRY'S TAVERN.

you were in that small group that nodded at the guys, scott's gaze meeting yours for a second as he raised his eyebrows, tilted his head slightly and patted the side of his leg. it had become your little sign of him saying 'save me a seat', so you just smiled and walked off with the others, catching up with kate, samantha and tilly as they had begun chatting away about something.

it wasn't long until javi and scott joined you all. the group occupied a few tables in the far corner of the bar, further away from the other noisy patrons with the hope of being able to hear each other more clearly without shouting over the noise. you and the girls were engrossed in conversation, back to the door and not realising that kate was moving her chair over to make space for javi and scott to sit in between you two. as soon as you felt scott's presence next to you, you shifted your seat and welcomed him into your space, smiling up at him as he tipped his cap towards you. as he pulled his seat forward, you shifted again, the few drinks you've had before him getting there giving you the confidence to move a little too close than what could be considered co-worker behaviour.

but no one noticed. no one says anything or calls you out on it. so you stay where you are, feeling immediately more at ease now that scott was beside you.

only then do you remember what you were wanting to say to kate before being interrupted, so you lean over the table and invade more of scott's space, calling out kate's name and getting her attention.

"hey, i forgot to mention earlier, the special they have here is great, you should try it!" you smiled, watching kate nod her head enthusiastically and agree with your idea. beside you, scott is frozen, shocked at how close you are to him after being so careful around everyone as to not reveal your relationship. he tries to school his face and keep it neutral, but he can smell your perfume and your hand is so close to his and if he just moved the tiniest bit then he could-

but you pulled back, happy with what you'd said to kate, so much so that javi had now joined in and livened up the conversation. you're back to being by his side instead of in front of him now, taking another sip of your drink as javi asks what the special is and if it's any good. you're nodding fast in agreement, explaining the liquor inside of it and how they make it, and scott can't help but use this time while his friend is distracted to look over you properly.

he's seen you a lot today, but there's still moments when you're not near each other and they're the most dangerous times; being out in the open with tornadoes. he took the chance to look over you, starting with the curves of your face, your lips moving fast and hands flying animatedly in front of you. it gave him the perfect opportunity to look over your bare arms, checking for any cuts and bruises he may have missed that he'll want to take care of later. you seem fine, and he has to remind himself of that (he also needs to stop checking you out before someone realises, but he can never tear his eyes away from you).

it isn't until he feels your hand on the outside of his right thigh, your delicate fingers tracing the seams of his cargo pants pocket, dancing across his thigh in a rehearsed move, that he comes out of his trance. you always did this whenever he sat next to you and your hand was hidden, he just didn’t realise you would do it tonight in such close quarters with others and whilst staring kate and javi straight in the eyes. almost like you were teasing, like you were saying ‘come get me’, to whom, scott didn’t know. but if no one else did, he’d take you out of this place and straight back to his room.

your hand shifted towards the outline of the now-opened gum packet; it was strawberry flavour, and if there wasn’t so many people around you, you’d be begging scott for a taste. it takes all his strength to keep listening to your conversation, adding a nod or a uh huh here and there to show he was listening. javi asked him something and he was almost sure he was going to need it repeating if it wasn’t for your attention being pulled away, your hand off scott’s thigh and his mind free.

samantha had grabbed your arm, taking you out of your conversation and pulling you close to her. you giggled, hand leaving scott and picking up your drink to take a sip before hearing what she had to say.

“girl, scott was totally just checking you out as you leaned over him!” her voice was quiet against the sounds of the bar, like she only wanted you to hear the secret that clearly wasn’t a secret if people had noticed scott looking at you.

you just rolled your eyes and blew out a puff of air, a hand lifting to waft through the air in a dismissive way, “no way would scott miller ever check me out!” you scoffed, completely ignoring the fact that scott could hear you. “have you seen him? mr big arms with his grumpy attitude and scowl and freckles and sunglasses that he never takes off.”

samantha’s jaw dropped, clearly not believing what you were saying and adamant that scott was most definitely looking at you. “i swear on my life, he was looking you up and down like a sheet of data, you know how he gets hot over sciencey things like that!”

“a sheet of data? way to make me feel good about myself.” you laughed, thinking the comparison was hilarious in your inebriated state. “out of the entire team, i’m sure scott would be the last person checking me out, he’s like so married to his work. also, he’s like hot and mean? and he gets away with it? how could i get past his rudeness even for just one night?”

you might have been going over board to convince samantha that there was nothing going on between you two. you could believe that scott had looked at you when you leaned over him, he always did in the privacy of your rooms, swearing up and down that he was checking you for cuts, but also using it as an excuse to kiss you all over.

he made you giggle when he did that, his big, warm hands so gentle as they ran over your skin, pushing your - his - shirt up your stomach to kiss as much of you as possible. he’d have you spread out on your sheets, lips grazing your skin inbetween kissing old scars, new cuts and all your beauty marks. your face was always the last place he explored, kissing along your jaw first before kissing both your cheeks, your temple, then forehead, then nose and finally your lips. first it would be a chaste kiss, then he’d linger longer on the next kiss, and longer on the next one and the next one until you were sharing breaths, panting slightly as you both became hungry for more.

his hands would be all over your body, sharing their time between your hips, thighs and cheeks as your own stayed on his face. your fingers ran through his messy waves that were usually hidden from everyone else, pulling at the strands to get him to groan and bite your lips in retaliation. you’d always giggle at that, something scott would swallow down as he kissed you again, pinching your skin to get you to thrust upwards into him, this time pulling a groan from you.

you felt like a teenager with him, sneaking around to not be found out, sloppily making out on top of and under covers as you lost sleep for each other. both of you could not get enough of the other. which made it so difficult to lie to samantha and make out like you could never want scott.

“…and the gum thing? so not attractive.” you finished, your hand coming up once again to brush off one of his quirks (which you so adored), pulling a face to make it more believable.

“oh, my god, tell me about it! i’ve been waiting for someone to agree with that, but everyone just shrugs it off like he’ll fire them if he ever heard it.” samantha giggled as you took another drink, not wanting to agree or disagree with her. sure scott could be mean and a bit harsh, but he wouldn’t do anything like that.

scott was still listening to everything you said, eyes stuck on kate and javi as he chuckled under his breath at your words. he knew you loved his grumpiness, his scowl, his freckles and his sunglasses. he knew you loved that he was ‘hot and mean’ and that he liked his gum; you’d been giving him at least three new packs a week since you’d gotten together.

honestly, he’s surprised that no one’s ever realised that he never buys gum, but is always chewing it, and that you always buy it, but never chew it.

even after what felt like hours, samantha is still adamant that scott was checking you out, all your rebuttals being tossed out for her plans to seemingly get you together. and scott can only try to hide his laugh, not wanting to give away that he’s totally engrossed in your conversation and not the one he’s meant to be involved in.

it isn’t until your final comment that he zones out, finishing off the rest of his drink and fully returning to kate and javi.

“sam, girl, nothing’s happened between us and nothing will. we’re so different, and as hot as he is, i can’t get over his attitude.”

he knows it’s not true, he’s repeating that mantra over and over in his head until it sticks like glue, but hearing those words come from you hurt more than he’d care to admit. without knowing how, his heart hurts, a hundred little needles having worked their way through his skin and made a home in his chest. he can feel his body physically slouch, anxiously wanting to grab a piece of gum from his cargo pants pocket.

but your hand’s there again, tracing the seams and the gum packet, your conversation having changed from all the reasons you can’t be with scott to something about a new film out next week. you were soothing yourself with your own touch on him, but his skin underneath the material was burning. it was only adding to his big feelings that he didn’t know what to do with.

usually when he’s alone with you, it’s easy to let them out with you, it’s easy to talk to you and kiss you and feel you and tell you how he’s feeling. but with your hand on his thigh and the bar loud and crowded, everything feels warm and suffocating and, fuck, he needed to get out.

javi offered to grab another round, picking up any empty glasses before heading across the room to the bar, leaving scott with you and the other girls. you were all engrossed in some conversation about a couple of the other guys; scott didn't know who or what about, he'd zoned out a while ago and hoped that javi would soon save him with a distraction.

you glanced over towards kate as you spoke, seeing scott in the corner of your eye looking disinterested and seemingly deflated. you just assumed it was because javi had left, so you rubbed his thigh a bit harder, hoping to get his attention before tracing the outline of the pocket again. he either didn't want to seem too obvious that he was staring at you again, or his mind was elsewhere because he didn't even respond to your touch, his gaze not meeting yours for even a second. you brushed it off, your brain reminding you that he was fine and he was next to you and that’s all that mattered.

scott wasn't fine, but he wasn't about to tell anyone that.

the team stayed in the bar for a couple more hours, getting rowdier and louder the more drinks everyone bought and downed. your little table had ended up playing drinking games, kate and javi desperately trying to get scott involved, who ended up doing the bare minimum as to not be called boring by the others. you just laughed at him and the comments people were saying, knowing it was completely untrue and scott could genuinely be so fun, he just saved it for the right people.

it was about an hour before the bar closed that everyone made the short journey back to their rooms, almost as if a few people remembered they had work tomorrow and dragged the crowd back across the road. you walked alongside kate, samantha and tilly again, still gossiping and giggling as scott and javi brought up the rear. goodnights were called across the lot, some people stumbling up the stairs to their room and others tripping up the curb to get to the lower floor. you waved to the girls as you opened your door, subconsciously watching for scott to enter his, but finding his door already shut and no sign of him. you knew he'd seek you out, he always did. you just needed to wait a little bit and you’d have your man in your arms once again.

half an hour later, your door slowly opened, revealing scott in his white sleep shirt, sweatpants and a pair of socks. if you were any sober, you'd be all over him, dragging him to your bed and forgetting about the others next door to you. but scott looked softer tonight, a little more subdued than normal, so you took the opportunity to be gentle with him.

he shut and locked the door, making his way the few feet to where you were sat on your side of the bed waiting for him. his touch was gentle against your cheek as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead, whispering a quiet 'hey' as he did so. you smiled at his touch, looking up at him properly as he pulled away from you. as one of his hands reached around to hold the back of your neck, both of yours found his hips and traced the waistband of his sweatpants.

"hey," your voice quiet and mind running a hundred miles an hour as you looked at him. no hat, no sunglasses, no gum, just scott in his purest, softest form and you couldn't be more grateful to have him. "did you have a good time tonight?" you asked, hands shifting from his hips to run up and down his stomach and chest.

"yeh, it was okay, you seemed to have fun." he replied, his touch shifting from your face to your shoulders as he pulled away from you.

"yeh, it's always nice to have a chill night and just talk to everyone." you seemed to miss the emptiness of his words, following behind him as he grabbed your sleepwear (which consisted of an old pair of shorts and scott's grey MIT t-shirt) and walked towards your bathroom.

"i'll be out here if you need anything." it came out in more of a mumble than he expected, but you didn't realise as you pressed a kiss to his cheek and just closed the bathroom door.

as you got changed and brushed your teeth, you thought back to your conversation with samantha, realising that scott wasn't the same as he is other nights and feeling as if you'd cracked the code that is scott miller. you felt bad about what you'd said, of course, but you also agreed to keep things quiet and not let everyone know about the two of you, so why would he be like this?

regardless, you finished in the bathroom, opened the door and flicked the lights off before finding scott sat at the end of the bed waiting for you. he's usually under the sheets, shirt off (depending on the weather) with open arms ready to settle down with you. so, you took in his hunched form, his gaze turned down to his hands in his lap as you stepped towards him.

"you know i like you, right?" you said plainly, two fingers hooking under his chin to lift his head up towards your gaze. "like, really like you, scott. and everything i said to samantha was to throw her off us because you decided to check me out." you giggled, trying to get him to smile, but your own smile dropped when scott didn't even react to your comment.

only then did you realise you'd have to try something else, so you held onto his shoulders, pressed one knee into the space next to his thigh and sat on his lap, hands moving to his cheeks to hold his gaze with your own. you looked over his face, his expression not changing, but his hands came to rest on your hips, so you knew he was comfortable. the blue in his eyes was unwavering, still shining brightly as they looked at you, regardless of how he may have been feeling earlier.

"scott," you whispered, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to his nose. "we both agreed to keep this quiet, and i'm sorry if what i said upset you earlier, but surely you know how i feel about you by now, no? huh?" you smirked slightly, knowing that you often tell him how he makes you feel and you try to show it as much as possible; maybe he just needs a reminder.

"i love your big arms," your hands moved down his neck to his shoulders and then over his biceps which were half covered by his sleeves. "i love your attitude," you lightly nipped at his skin, tracing a couple of marks on his skin. "i love your scowl and your freckles," your hands moved back up to his face, one hand staying on the side of neck as your other danced across his cheeks and his nose. "and i love your little obsession with your sunglasses." you giggled, shifting on his lap to press your body closer to his (if that was even possible) and started to run a hand through his hair.

"i like that you're hot and mean, i like that you're so dedicated to your job and you're so smart, and, in all honesty, with me you could probably get away with murder." that pulled a chuckle from him, shaking his head as he scoffed and looked down at his lap again. his hands moved under your (his) shirt and rubbed against your bare skin, sending shivers down your spine as your own hands moved from his hair to his face yet again. you could touch scott forever; he was always so soft and warm and your hands fit perfectly on his body and in his own.

"and the gum thing?" you whispered finally, watching as his head lifted up on its own to look at you again. "so attractive."

and with your last comment, his eyebrows raised slightly, his head titling to the side as he kept his eyes on your own. you could only smile, the closed-lip kind you always seemed to wear when looking at scott (and the kind you have to stop yourself doing when others were around). the two of you just sit in silence after that, the only noise being the hum of the air conditioner as you kept close to scott, both still touching each other and eyes still locked.

without warning, scott stood up, bringing you with him as he moved around the bed and dropped you down onto the sheets. you giggled at his actions, pulling them out from underneath you and throwing them open to let him get into bed from his own side. after he got comfortable on his back, you were immediately by his side, one leg thrown over his thighs and your hand on his chest over his heart. your head fit snuggly on his shoulder, turning your face slightly to press a kiss on his neck and under his jaw.

you shuffled around a bit, getting comfortable before whispering a small 'goodnight' to him, "i wish things were different, baby," you added, moving your touch from his chest to around his stomach, holding him close. "i wish we could tell everyone and not have to lie about it. i want to show everyone how i feel about you an' show you off, but i know it's not the right time."

before he had a chance to reply, your eyes were shut and your breathing had begun to even out and fall into steady, deep breaths. he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, a hand landing on the side of your knee as he whispered the same sentiment back to you.

his heart felt a bit lighter in that moment. his anxiety was somewhat settled, especially now with you in his arms and wrapped around his body.

in that moment, the chipped paint of the ceiling seemed more interesting than closing his eyes. scott's mind was still reeling and going over everything you'd said earlier and everything you’d just said whilst next to him. he wanted the same thing; he wanted to hold your hand and kiss you and show you off to everyone and make them all see how much he cared about you. he wanted to be able to check you out without comments from other people and he wanted to be able to pull you onto his lap in dingy bars and stake his claim on you like you did with your gifts in his cargo pants pocket.

but you were right, it wasn't the right time. and maybe while you were still in this line of work and still in business with his uncle, maybe he couldn't do all those things. but it didn't mean he'd stop thinking about it, or you, when he should be focused on chasing tornadoes.

the sun was starting to rise outside your motel room, waking up scott as a reminder that he needs to leave you before anyone sees him walking out of your door at this hour. somehow, he manages to slide out from underneath your body, feeling guilty as he looks over your sleeping form now hugging a pillow as a poor replacement for his warmth.

as much as he wants to, scott doesn't linger long. he grabbed his phone from the table next to the bed, briefly forgetting that he's forgone shoes in his haste to get to your room last night and stopped searching for them after a moment or so. the shitty bed frame creaked slightly as you adjusted your position, rolling over to face the door and releasing a sigh before settling into the sheets again.

as he walked to the door, scott looked over at you one last time, mourning the loss of your usual routine together, already missing your smile and the soft kisses you'd usually press all over his face before even giving him a chance to get out of bed. but it was already late, and there was bound to be someone awake by now, so he needed to leave before he jeopardised your relationship more than he already may have done last night.

he ignores the heaviness of his heart, pained by the usual feeling of leaving you behind. god, what he wouldn't give to wake up with you every morning, getting ready together after the sun was up and walking down to meet the group together instead of separately. luck must have been on his side that morning as he didn't see anyone else, making the short walk three doors down to his own assigned room unnoticed and slipped through the door.

the room was almost completely untouched, the bed having never been slept in and the sheets only disturbed by his suitcase which he threw on it haphazardly about three days ago. the ironing board was still out by the window, his clothes from yesterday folded neatly on the flat surface and his shirt for the day hung above it. the cargo pants thrown over the chair next to the door mocked him, a harsh reminder that today would be different because he didn't have you the way he wanted this morning, he didn't get his kiss and he'd be missing one of your little gifts he loved so.

somehow, everyone made it down to breakfast on time. albeit some looked worse for wear and would have probably appreciated a little longer in bed, storms don't wait for anyone, and after the lack of bad weather yesterday (and to ignore his feelings), scott was itching to get out on the road and chase some tornadoes.

the sky was dark already, so breakfast and the debrief was hastened along, javi calling for people to get ready to leave as soon as possible whilst scott was already typing away on his laptop in the front of the scarecrow truck. you barely managed to catch his eye this morning, having already missed him when you woke up, you felt backwards and apprehensive about the day ahead. unbeknownst to you, you were feeling the exact same way as scott; your heart was heavy and your normal routine had been disturbed, a bad start to any day. he'd been up and gone by the time your alarm went off, and you knew that he hadn't even attempted to wake you before he snuck out.

as you headed to join your group, you managed to look over at scott, hunched forward in his seat as he was glued to his laptop. his glasses were hung over his shirt pocket, hat sat straight on his head. you loved watching him work, watching him concentrate so hard and use his brain to work out the storms and the best course of action. it was one of the things you'd forgotten to mention last night as you reminded him of why you were with him, not just then in the moment, but why you wanted to be with him.

sure, you'd mentioned about his smarts, but there was so much more to it with him. it was how easily he calculated things, how quickly he was to make or change plans at a moment's notice. how he could choose the right tornado from the wrong one and be so confident in it before the storm had even formed. you were constantly in awe of him and his brain and every time he said something smart or smart-ass (which was very often), you just wanted to grab his face in your hands and kiss him all over.

but all you could do was stare at him, watch as he typed away, his eyebrows creasing slightly as he figured something out. he was so handsome in times like this, and you couldn't do anything about it.

your name being called dragged you away from scott, missing him looking over in your direction as you headed to your truck and hopped in the front with samantha. it wasn't long before pete joined scott and got into the driver's seat, both pulling on their seatbelts before heading out of the parking lot. javi and kate followed behind in lion, whilst you, samantha and tim pulled out in tin man.

just as the team were hoping for, the weather kept turning from bad to worse as storm and tornado followed after each other. you all kept on moving from place to place, trucks getting dirtier at each rest stop and barely having time to dry off before the chase started again. since the day before was poor for data collection, scott and javi wanted to be on the road as much as possible, which meant fewer and shorter breaks, only stopping for as little time as possible to keep going.

usually you can sneak down an aisle of the gas station convenience store to see scott, even just for a minute or two to share a short kiss. you were wanting to give him his little gift, today a note with a few reminders on it for him, hoping the small gesture would soothe something in you and make you worry less than you already were. but you didn't get that chance. he barely left the truck, only hopping out to go to the bathroom and grab a quick drink, never being in the same place as you were at the same time. it was only then that you realised he hadn't even sent you your usual text, your phone falling silent, void of any important notifications.

little did you know, scott had been looking out for you. he had watched as you got in and out of the truck at each rest stop, he had watched as you walked through the automatic doors of the gas stations, shortly leaving with your arms full of snacks and drinks for the rest of your group. he followed after you a couple of times, keeping his distance, and headed over to the shelves of gum packets, waiting for you to turn down the aisle and properly look at him. it wasn't unknown to scott that you glanced over at him at any opportunity; he did exactly the same and would be a hypocrite if he tried to hide it. all he could think about was you, you, you. all he wanted was to see you and say hi and take in the presence that was you.

but scott has always struggled with words. he struggled to convey his feelings, preferring to be the silent and brooding type than let feelings and emotions get involved. but it was different with you. feelings were always involved with you, and he couldn't get over his pride or bruised ego to even just talk to you today. he really should. he had regretted not sending you your usually text, he had regretted not waking you up when he did, he had regretted leaving you alone, but that's what he'd done. he needed to own it or get over it. so he brooded and practically ignored you, and it pained him as much as it pained you.

it was a long day. a long day of driving and storms and getting wet and not seeing scott. you never really realised how much you saw him when you weren't busy and how much you actually missed him in the day after not seeing him first thing in the morning. the note that should be in his cargo pants pocket burnt a hole in your own and it was the only thing you could think of on the drive back to the motel.

the rain was still coming down heavily, windscreen wipers flying back and forth with such speed you thought they'd fly off any minute. tim was driving again, this time with samantha in the front and you in the back. all of you were so tired that the truck was silent, only the downpour of the rain providing a background noise to your thoughts. you loved weather like this, that's one of the reasons you took this job, so being able to stare out over the open fields and watch the rain and clouds dance together was what you needed today.

you were probably only five minutes away from the motel when the truck started to spin, sliding on the standing puddles of water on the road and causing tim to lose all control. the three of you just gasped, grabbing onto whatever you could to steady yourself as you let the truck do what it needed to do to battle the weather. after a few rotations the truck stopped suddenly, its side crashing into a fence which had ran parallel to the road for the past few miles.

the three of you looked between you all, still not saying anything as you all fought to catch your breath and give a nod of ‘i’m okay’ to each other. the others had kept driving, your truck bringing up the rear, so your only option was to keep going back to the motel, take it slow and hope that no one noticed the massive dent in the truck. easy enough, right?

by the time you got back, the parking lot was almost empty, only the storm par trucks occupying a few of the spaces and a couple of other random cars dotted around the lot. it was still pouring it down, and the first thing you all saw as you pulled up was scott stood under the cover of the second floor's walkway, stood directly in front of your truck's space with his arms cross and a scowl painting his face.

the three of you got out, grabbing your bags before quickly joining him underneath the cover and away from the rain. none of you said anything, just stood in front of scott like you were waiting for either a lecture or permission to head to your rooms. he just looked between you all, expression not changing even as he looked straight in your eyes and spoke directly to you.

"what took you so long?"

"we just got caught up in the weather, didn't want to rush getting back." tim replied, his voice wavering slightly as he noticed the intensity of scott's gaze on you.

"i wasn't asking you." he bit back, not even looking over at tim as he spoke to you. "what took you so long?"

"erm, we jus-just got caught up, scott, like tim said." your reply was quiet, knowing he would be upset with you for lying especially after he found out the real reason why you guys were late.

"then why is there a dent in the side of my truck, hum? get caught up in a tornado i didn't see?" your cheeks heated up, face scrunching as you winced at his words. of course he'd realise, truly nothing got past him. but he still didn't look away from you as he waited for a reply, even if it was another excuse. tim and samantha looked shocked at scott's behaviour, knowing he could be intense, but never having singled you out for something before, especially not for something you actually hadn't done.

you kept staring at scott, trying to think of something to say that wouldn't make him any more angry than he already was. tim was trying to think of how to explain how he damaged the truck, and samantha was trying to hard not to scream 'i told you so', still adamant in her theory that scott had a thing for you. the only thing saving you from an awkward silence was the rain, that was until javi came out from his room and saw the four of you stood together.

"hey, you guys are back- what happened to the truck?" he cut himself off with his own question, looking over the dented side with his hands in his hair before turning back to you. "is everyone alright?"

the contrast between their two approaches was like whiplash. you wanted to blurt out your apologies and throw in an 'i'm okay' to stop javi worrying, but with scott still staring you down, you were too worried to look away from him. you'd missed his presence and his face all day and thought that if you looked away, even for a minute, he'd turn around and walk away from you. and after what had just happened, it was taking everything in you not to grab him and hold him close.

"we're okay," samantha said, looking at javi with apologies in her eyes. "we're sorry about the truck, we just caught some water and spun out a little. this shitty fence broke our spin and dented the side, i'm so sorry, javi."

"it's okay, we can get that fixed, as long as you guys are ok-"

"who was driving?" scott's voice was even, asking you another question that you really didn't want to answer.

"scott, i-"

"who was driving?" he said it slower, in a tone that suggested he knew the answer already, interrupting whatever you were about to say.

"it was me." tim spoke up.

"pack your shit, you're going tomorrow."

"scott, you can't just-"

"sir, it was an accident, i really didn't-"

"well, your 'accident' could have killed three people tonight," scott finally looked away from you and you felt like you could breath again. "i'm here to do my job and keep everyone safe. you pulling shit like this doesn't help, so i want you gone by the morning. this job doesn't call for liabilities, and currently you're the only one i'm looking at."

(was it bad that this was kinda turning you on and you thought it was incredibly hot of him?)

"scott, man, let's just all get some rest, cool off and come back to this in the morning." javi tried to bargain with him, moving forward into scott's space and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"i'm cool, javi. i've made my decision and it's final." he insisted, turning back to look at you, eyes softening at the tired look on your face. god, he just wanted to pick you up, take you to bed and just be grateful that you're still with him. "you all could have died, i don't take that shit lightly."

he shrugged off javi’s hand, his hand dropped into his cargo pants pocket and pulled out a set of keys before pushing past his best friend and storming towards the scarecrow truck. it made a high-pitched beep as scott unlocked the doors, pulled open the driver’s side and got in. before he had a chance to shut the door, you’d managed to drop your bag and head out into the rain, a hand grabbing the door before scott was able to close it fully.

“what are you doing? you can’t go out in this!” you almost screamed at him, the rain drowning out your voice to the others still stood under the cover as they watched you talk to scott.

“why not, huh? nothing happened to you guys, just got caught up!” he replied, his tone dripping with sass as he replayed your own words back to you.

“come on, don’t be like that! i didn’t want you to worry, and we’re fine!”

“you could have died!” his voice dropped, eyes looking right into yours as you noticed some tears starting to well at the bottom of them. you couldn’t stop a gasp from leaving your lips, hoping that you were shielding scott’s expression from the others behind you; javi would never let him live it down.

“oh, baby,” you reached out to his face. “i’m okay, really, i’m fine. just please don’t go, not like this. i know you’re upset, but anything can happen in this weather. please, don’t go.”

your touch seemed to snap him out of his thoughts as he grabbed your wrist and brought it back down to your side.

“i’ll be back in a bit.” he said plainly, watching as you stepped back and let him slam the door, turn the engine over and drive out of the parking lot.

“what the fuck was that?!”

“i’ll tell you when you grow up.” samantha patted tim on the back, picking up your bag as you made you way back under the motel, absolute drenched and visibly panicking.

“javi, you- we have to go. we have to follow him and get him back here, now.”

"in this weather? you guys have already had an accident, with two more trucks out there, who knows what'll happen. we need to get inside and-"

"we need to go get him, javi!" you shouted over him, samantha and tim realising this isn't their fight anymore and leaving to go back to their rooms. "please, javi, you're his best friend, you know how he gets, and his temper and this weather and driving is not going to end well."

"you're real worried, huh?" he asked, no teasing, no harshness to his words. he only needed to take one look at the anxiety on your face and your heavy breathing to realise how you felt about the man in question.

"yes, i am worried." your words were plain, and said quite matter of factly. "i can go on my own-"

"no, no way, scott would definitely kill me then." javi looked back at the motel, seemingly trying to end his internal battle of either going back inside or coming with you.

it took him a moment before he looked back at you, his hand diving into his trouser pocket and pulling out the keys to the lion truck, "come on, let’s go."

javi leads you as you both step out into the rain again. you're completely drenched by now, but you couldn't care less as you wait for him to unlock the doors and hop into the passenger side. the engine rumbles and javi's quick to put it in to reverse, pulling out of the motel parking lot without looking back. the road is completely empty, windscreen wipers working overtime as they battle against the heaving downpour that hasn't let up in the past few hours. you don't even know if you're going in right direction; you definitely saw scott turn left out of the lot, but there were so many side roads coming up that he could have turned down, so many turns off of them meaning he could be anywhere.

both of you scan the road, looking left and right for any sign of headlights or the distinct white truck, anything to give you a hint as to where scott could be. you knew you should have stopped him. you should have grabbed onto his hand and pulled him out the of truck, should have dragged him towards the motel and into your room and straight in the shower, wanting nothing more than to warm up and forget about the day.

but scott was stubborn. once he set his mind to something, it was difficult to stop him. you knew he didn't verbalise things, you knew he found it difficult and would rather be rude and stand-offish to other people, but never to you. he was frustrated about today, you could see that from a mile off, but doing this was dangerous and when you got him, you didn't know whether to scold him for being so reckless or kiss him after ignoring you all day. maybe both.

probably both.

you don't know how long you've been driving for, constantly on high alert for anything that looked vaguely like a storm par truck. a fence started to run parallel to the road, and you recognised it as the one you drove into earlier. it gave you a sick feeling in your stomach, your insides twisting as if they knew something was wrong.

and something was very wrong.

"javi, stop!" you shouted, seeing the tail end of a truck a few feet above the ground, the front stuck half in a ditch and half through a fence. the truck hadn't even fully stopped by the time you were out of it, leaving the door wide open as you ran over to the drivers side and peered into the cab.

and there was scott, body slumped forward over the wheel, hat thrown to the side.

"shit." you mumbled, hand grasping at the door handle and pulling to get it open. javi joined you within seconds, both tugging at the metal to try and pry it away from the truck. the front must have been badly bent out of shape because it takes you a bit to do so, taking it in turns to pull the handle and push the inside of the door to reveal scott.

when the door was at its widest, you pushed past javi to get to him. he was breathing slowly, his body moving the tiniest bit as he groaned and tried to sit up. your hands immediately reached out to him, your right grasping onto his shoulder as your left found his chest. you helped him to slowly move, eyes darting over his face and arms to check for any bad cuts or wounds that he may have. there were a few little ones dotted across his forearms, the biggest one being a cut just above his eyebrow. it didn't look too deep, but it was enough to make you worry and want to get him out of this truck and into the other one as soon as possible.

"scott, honey, it's okay, i'm here. we're here." your voice was quiet as you called out to him and got him set back against the seat, a hand coming to rest on his cheek to turn his face to your own. "you're okay, i'm here."

one of his eyes opened, taking all of you in; your soaked hair, your drenched shirt, the loving look you had in your eyes and the relieved look on your face. seeing you now, javi just a foot behind you, he regretted running off and leaving the motel. he had regretted it about five minutes after he'd left, but it wasn't much longer after that that he crashed, wheels sliding over the surface water and spinning him into the same goddamn fence you'd crashed in to.

"hey." he smiled at you, a wide-toothed grin directed only at you as you gave him one of your own. without even thinking, you cupped his face in both your hands and brought him towards you, placing a short kiss on his lips, then his nose and his forehead. he winced slightly, making an apology tumble from your lips as you lightly brushed over his new cut. luckily, it wasn't deep, but it was going to sting like hell and would definitely need some steri-strips to pull it back together.

javi just stood back as he watched the two of you, glad that his friend was okay, but still reeling in the new information that he'd just witnessed in front of him. before he knew it, you were pulling scott out of the cab, one of his arms falling around your shoulders as he ran to scott's other side and helped you take him over to the not-damaged truck.

you pulled open the back door, twisting around so you could sit scott backwards onto the seat. pulling away from him, you reached into the passenger seat, door still open from you rushing out, and grabbed the first aid kit that was all of the glove boxes. when you'd first joined, the guys hadn't even thought of keeping one handy in any of the trucks, so you took it upon yourself to compile some together and keep them updated. right now, you're thanking your past self for the idea, rushing back to scott's side to fix him up, throwing the box in his lap before opening it.

javi went to the ditched truck and pulled out whatever was important that was still lying in the footwells, grabbing scott's abandoned hat and sunglasses before he doesn't hear the end of it. you started cleaning up the cut on scott's face, trying to shield him and yourself from the rain that was still pouring, albeit slower now than earlier, but you really didn't want get any plasters wet before pressing them onto his skin.

the sterilised wipe turned red quickly, the blood from his cut still flowing slowly as you tried to stop it as much as possible, "hold that there." you grabbed one of scott's hands, pulling it up towards his forehead and pressing it onto the cotton above his brow.

"yes, ma'am." he teased, loving how you had practically ignored javi's presence for the past few minutes in order to take care of him. you pressed another kiss on his lips before wiping around the cuts on his arms with a clean wipe, feeling his eyes on you constantly as you did so.

"you're so reckless, you know?" you mumbled, taking care with your actions. "driving off and leaving me at the motel in a storm like this. this is so much worse than just a bump into a fence, you could have been seriously hurt, scott." you glanced up at him quickly, watching as his smile dropped and head dipped slightly.

"m'sorry, sweetheart, i didn't mean to scare you."

"i know, i'm just glad you're okay. i don't know what i would have done if anything had happened to you." you finished tending to his arms and shifted your attention back to his face. the cotton had soaked up most of the blood, now just needing a clean and something to keep it together. javi was still stood behind you, not wanting to get in the middle of whatever argument you may be having. it didn't seem like one, but javi just wanted to get back into the truck and head back to the motel; he was getting colder by the minute.

you grabbed another wipe, throwing the cotton into the growing pile of blood-soaked fabrics. "can't believe you've marked up your pretty little face, at least your hat'll hide it while it's healing." with the blood now gone, you grabbed some steri-strips. "i'll have to change these in a couple of days, we'll grab some more when we leave tomorrow to replace them in the box." you'd place one on already, pinching his skin to set the other one. "thank God i put them in the trucks, you'd be bleeding out on the backseat if i hadn't. on that note, you're so stupid for coming out here in this rain-"

"i know, i shouldn't have-"

"you don't understand how worried i was when you drove off and how scared i was to find you dead somewhere. i shouldn't have even let you get in the truck at the motel. i wish i'd pulled you out then and there and dragged you back to my room and shoved you in the shower before you even thought about leaving me. and i'm sorry for lying to you about the accident. i love you, but i knew you'd be angry and do something stupid so i was trying to stop it before anything happened, but you still went off and-"

that's when scott zoned out. you kept talking as you busied yourself with placing the last sterile-strip on his forehead, checking the rest of him for anymore cuts or blood that needed cleaning and shoving all the used wipes and rubbish in a bag and closing the first aid kit that still laid open on his lap. he caught javi's eyes from behind you, both the men staring at each other with wide eyes as they registered what you had just said. he's not thinking of anything, no rebuttal or teasing remark, the only thing on rotation in his head being 'i love you. i love you. i love you.’

scott doesn't know whether you're still talking or cleaning his blood off of your hands, he doesn't care as he grabs your chin and pulls your forward, his lips immediately finding yours as he puts all of his energy into kissing you. everything drowns out in that moment: the rain, your anxiety, scott's injuries, the wrecked truck behind you, javi behind you. the only thing you can hear is the big, bright, blaring sound that is scott and his touch and the way his hands are tugging on your hips to bring you closer to him. you stumble forward, catching yourself on his shoulders, ignoring the wet fabric of his shirt and the blood that's probably staining the pure white.

his lips are soft and the feelings he's pouring into the kiss make up for the missed moments this morning and the events of the day. his hands are still on your hips, fingers tracing the waistband of your trousers as your own hands run down his chest, resting on his thighs as you lean closer to him and press yourself further into the kiss. your fingers trace the seams of his cargo pants pocket.

"i should have known you guys were doing it." javi eventually called out over the rain, making both of you pull away from the other and giggle slightly as scott's forehead rested on your own. neither of you argued, realising the secret was well and truly out by now and it wasn't something you could, or wanted to, hide anymore.

you leaned away from him, looking over his face and feeling the hearts in your eyes as you did so. he was smiling up at you, the same gaze reflecting back at you as you looked into his baby blues that you loved so much.

"guess it's out the bag now, huh?" he commented, making you shake your head at his little joke.

"guess it's out the bag now." you agreed, pulling away from him to get into the front of the truck, making sure he'd pulled on his seatbelt before closing the door.

"how long?" javi asked, no malice in his voice.

"only a few months," you smiled, seeing the knowing look in his eyes as he stood with his arms crossed in front of you, rain still falling around you both. "thank you for coming with me."

"someone's gotta save his ass when he gets all grumpy, i'm just glad i've got a partner to do it with now." you just laughed at that, moving towards the passenger door as javi walk around to the drivers side. when you both got in, scott leaned forward from the backseat, one hand on both of your seat shoulders.

"i heard that."

"and i meant it."

you couldn't help the smile on your face, looking between javi and scott as they stared each other down. javi turned over the engine, still glaring at scott before pulling away and looking ahead at the road. it was still raining, but not as heavy as earlier. the road ahead of you was clearer than on your way out, just puddles and standing water covered the ground.

you looked behind yourself, watching the wrecked truck get further away before looking over at scott. he was still leant forward slightly, already showing a closed-lip smile as he caught your eye. your face mirrored his expression, moving forward to place a light kiss on his lips and then his cheek then shuffling around to face forward again. his right arm reached forward towards you, his hand grasping yours as he squeezed it three times. it was a comfort having him touching you, even in such a little way, and you cradled your joint hands in your lap.

the drive back was quiet, javi no longer having any jabs to make at the two of you and just wanting to go to bed after such a long day. he didn't realise that it was going to end with saving his friends life and finding out that he had a partner. but anyway, you were clearly happy with each other, so what more could javi want?

as the motel came into view, you could see that the majority of the group were stood outside, all in various states of undress as they waited anxiously for the three of you to get back. kate was the first person to run over to the truck, pulling open the passenger door and looking you over before turning her attention to javi getting out of the driver's side.

"i'm okay," you nodded at her, jumping out of the truck and closing the door. "it's scott you want to be worried about." she grunted slightly at that, moving back from you to let you head towards the motel. however, she did look over in scott's direction and see his bandaged forehead and blood over his shirt. at that, she gave him a sympathetic smile as he made his way over to you.

without warning, scott grabbed your hand, pulling you away from javi, kate and the rest of the team, up the stairs of the motel and towards your room. everyone just gawked at you as you passed, some stunned to silence and others muttering as they noticed your linked hands. kate looked over questioningly at javi, who replied with a shrug of his shoulders and a quick, "i had to watch them make out, be grateful it's just that."

scott ruffled around his pockets for the spare key card he had to your room, allowing you enough time to shout a 'goodnight!' to everyone before (literally) being dragged into your room and hearing the door lock.

at the end of the day, the only place you wanted to be was either with scott or in his arms. after the hectic day you'd just had, you ended it with your back against your room's door, scott towering over you as his hands grabbed at your hips, forehead falling onto yours. you were definitely breathing in the same air, but in that moment you didn't care; you were both alive, with only a few scratches, and you couldn't be more grateful for that in your line of work.

"thank you," voice only above a whisper as he broke the silence. "thank you for coming to save me. i should have said it earlier: i love you. i know it's only been a few months, but i felt like this before i showed up at your door that night." his hands came up to cup your cheeks, your own resting on his chest where you could feel his rapid heartbeat. "i've never felt like this for anyone, and i don't want to feel like this for anyone else but you."

"scott-" you gasped, your next sentence being cut off by his lips on yours. it was soft and gentle, something scott had been with you before, but this was different. it was a show of his love and adoration, his lips moving perfectly with yours as you tasted everything that was scott. he took over your mind and filled your senses and you wouldn't have it any other way.

"let's shower, hum?" he barely moved away from your lips as he spoke, quickly closing the gap again and kissing you once more.

"yes please." you managed to respond between his pecks, feeling scott's smile as he pulled you backwards and towards the small bathroom.

the only noise in the bathroom was the humming of the motel lights and the running water, heating up as you and scott undressed each other carefully. leaving your wet and dirty clothes in a pile together, you were cautious of his cuts and the plasters on his face, pealing his black undershirt off his body with the upmost care. before stepping under the shower, he cupped your face and kissed you again, holding his lips against yours for a few seconds. you grabbed his wrists in response, stepping towards the shower and pulled him along with you.

both of you were gentle under the water, lathering shampoo into the others' hair and trying to not get any suds in your eyes. you laughed at each other intermittently, watching as scott put on too much product and ended up with bubbles all over him. you took care in scrubbing his body clean, watching over his scratches as you kissed each new one you saw. scott could only watch, mesmerised by your kindness and love. he did the same for you until you were both clean and rinsed of the day.

after stepping out, you wrapped each other in the white towels, your hands tracing scott's chest as you stared into his gorgeous blue eyes. how lucky were you to have this man in front of you? despite his attitude sometimes, he could have been plucked straight from the angels and you'd be none the wiser. the amount of love you had for him was immeasurable, and it was only going to grow the longer you were together.

like the shower, you both got changed in the quiet, stealing glances as you dressed yourself in one of scott's t-shirts you'd stolen previously and he found some shorts he didn't realise he'd left the other day. you slipped under the covers first, settling down into the sheets as you waited patiently with open arms.

"come to bed, baby." you cooed as he started to sort the clothes in the bathroom. you could see how tired and drained he was, and you were desperate for a cuddle with him.

"the clothes, sweetheart-"

"leave them, they'll be there tomorrow."

"but-"

"scott," you pressed, sitting up to look at him. "i don't care about the clothes, i want you to come to bed and rest. please." the puppy dog eyes that you flashed him worked yet again. he dropped the clothes, turned off the lights and made his way over to you.

he laid on his back, sheets covering him as you shuffled into his side, wrapping around his body like a koala and resting your head on his shoulder. it was peaceful, safe, warm. you could lightly feel scott's heartbeat, hear him breathing, feel his warmth, all as a reminder that the was here with you and not in a ditch two miles down the road.

"i think it was your missing gift that did this." he muttered, still staring at the ceiling as you sat up slightly.

"my what?" you giggled, not realising what he was saying.

"your gifts, the little things you put in my cargo pants pocket each morning. i think they mean more to me than i realise, and the one day that i don't get one, all this shit happens."

"so, you're saying this is my fault?" you smirked, watching as his head whipped around to look at you with a worried expression.

"what? no, no! i didn't- you're messing with me." he saw your face and stopped his rant before it started, having should have realised that you'd tease him like that. "i just mean that i love your little gifts and i love that you think you're sneaking them without me realising. but i do. i have everything you've ever given me in my bag. did you want any of those lip glosses back, by the way? i think you've staked your claim on me now."

you laughed loudly at that, head falling between his neck and shoulder as your whole body shook at his words. scott just smiled, wrapped his arms around you tighter and pulled your body on top of his own.

"well, i'm glad you like them." you managed to get out between giggles, pressing a kiss onto each of his cheeks.

"i love them. i love how obsessed you are with my cargo pants pockets." his words made you blush, wanting to bury yourself back into his skin, but also not wanting to look away from his beaming smile and bright eyes. up close like this, you realised how much emotion was hidden in his eyes, something only you get to see, everyone else be damned.

you ran a hand through his damp hair, the waves and curls that he usually hid coming out in full force without the restriction of his hat. his hands traced up and down your sides, dipping under the hem of your shirt every so often to feel your soft skin there. you explored in your own way, clinging on to the back of his neck and shoulders as you confessed one last thing for the night.

"i love how obsessed i am with you."

scott oomfs: @weemswife @rhettsunshine @supremian @bbaengtan @fluvsof @urlitttlevenicebitch @bellaswanreincarnated4 @luvagirlsworld @ilsm-i-love-superman @djarinova

masterlist

requests are open! pls send me any thoughts or big feelings you have <3

© acdeaky - please do not copy/repost/translate my works as your own! but feel free to reblog and support writers on this platform!

[theworstwolvie]

play nice

summary: scott's always had a dirty, hateful mouth. what on earth can you do to fix it?

CWs: 18+ MDNI!!! explicit descriptions of sex, fem!reader x scott miller, assistant!reader so this is probably an HR nightmare but to be fair scott himself is an HR nightmare, some manhandling, cowgirl, unprotected p in v, creampie, bondage, SLAPPING (scott receiving!), mean!scott, is this premature ejaculation?, kinda soft ending?, maybe a little bit of fluff? idk man this is fucked up bc he's fucked up

word count: just below 2.9k!

author's note: THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING FOR SCOTT !!!! hope you guys all like. thank u to @clarkscolumn for (as usual) beta reading and signing off on this one. i hope you enjoy your fucked up man, or at least my take on him <3

A thorn in your side. That’s what Scott Miller is to you.

All you can think about is how much you hate him while you’re standing right in front of him and letting him ramble on and on about some stupid Storm Par business that you don’t care about. Being his assistant means that you’re often the very unwilling target of his anger issues. 

He’s just looking to make this issue with today’s chase someone else’s problem aside from his own, because that’s how Scott operates. 

Nothing is ever his fault, and he gets whatever he wants. 

You sigh and cross your arms over your chest while you look down at the ground between you. He scoffs. Cuts his own sentence off and lowers his voice. When he steps a little closer to you, he roughly asks, “Am I bothering you? Being an inconvenience?”

You don’t look up at him. Too tired of his bullshit. Through another dramatic sigh, you mutter, “Yeah. You are bothering me, and you are an inconvenience.” 

He laughs. It’s dark. A little hateful, even. His usual.

“That’s cute. You sure you wanna talk to your boss like that?” 

An eye roll is all you give him.

“Can you just get on with it? I have shit to do that doesn’t revolve around you, you know, and—and it’s hot as fuck out here! I wanna go back inside!” 

Scott’s eyes trace over your hand when you gesture toward the office building you’re stationed in this week, then he hums. With an infuriatingly loud pop of his gum and a plastered smirk on his face, he closes the gap between you completely. 

One of his mean hands wraps around your jaw and roughly lifts your head so you can look up at him. The gasp that leaves you is unintentional. He squeezes your cheeks, forcing your lips into a pucker as you lock eyes so roughly that you might piss yourself out of fright.

“I’m getting real fucking tired of this smart ass mouth. You’d better get it under control when you’re talking to me, sugar.”

He bends down to get a little closer to you. When his face is this close to yours, you get the chance to pick up on the mint on his breath and see all the spoiled brat rage in his eyes. That rage that’s probably been the same since he was a kid and his mother had the audacity to tell him he couldn’t do something. 

“And you better look at me when I’m talking to you. I won’t be ignored by someone I’m paying the fucking bills for,” he harshly hisses. That false bravado he puts forward always makes you sick. He might have been hot for a second—if it wasn’t for his big fucking mouth. 

It pulls you back down to earth and has you clearing your throat to swallow down your bile. You wrap one of your hands around his wrist and claw into it. He tries to hide it when he winces at the way your nails cut into his surprisingly soft skin. But when you laugh at him and dig deeper into it, he knows you heard him. That his jig is up. His eyes twitching and widening in embarrassment tells you all you need to know about that. 

“And you’re gonna get your hands off of me, you fucking pig,” you seethe while you push him off of you, voice low and unforgiving. Much like the way he talks to you. The part of you that noticed how solid his chest was when you pressed your hands against it is your least favorite part of yourself.

“You wouldn’t survive out here without me, so I suggest you stop talking to me like that.”

“I’m gonna talk to my assistant however I want to. If anything, you should stop talking to me like that. Especially if you wanna keep this cushy job I gave you, sweetheart,” Scott spits. 

“Cushy?” you gawk. “You can’t be serious. You made me run to three separate shops today because you wanted a particular type of coffee.”

“And you did it, so, clearly, you need this fucking job.” 

Usually, you can’t look at him on account of how fucking sick he makes you; which is unfortunate, because you have to be around him all the time for this stupidly well-paying job. 

Right now, though, you can’t keep your eyes off of him. His face is bright red. Eyes are wide and so fucking angry that you think they might pop out of his head. That sharp jaw of his is somehow even sharper whenever it’s tightened from his often self-inflicted rage. Gets tighter every time he chews on his gum, pulsing beneath his skin. His barrel of a chest is rising and falling so much quicker than usual.

You’re getting to him.

You smile at him when your eyes return to his. Real big and fake. Full of that saccharine sweetness that you know will only serve to piss him off more.

“Oh, how precious.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” 

You reach up and flick the tip of his nose. He swats your hand away and, somehow, his face flushes a deeper red. 

“Scottie,” you coo. “Am I pissing you off? Getting under your skin a little bit?” 

He rolls his eyes and takes a step back. When you look him up and down again, you’re almost certain he squirms. 

“You’re on the clock. Get back to work,” is the gruff, hateful retort you get back, but he doesn’t seem like he’s releasing you. His eyes staying glued to you tell you that much. 

“Yeah? You want me to get back to work? You don’t wanna talk my ear off anymore ‘cause I got you all worked up?” you tease. Loud enough to get a few people to turn their heads before they continue working on whatever it is they’re doing. Not that it matters to you. This weird battle you’re in with Scott’s taking precedence over everything else. 

Speaking of, your annoying employer grumbles something beneath his breath. Runs one massive hand over his face and continues backing up.

“Just shut up and do as I tell you. Have you always been thicker than pig shit, or is that a recent development?” he spits. 

You follow after him. Every slow step he takes backward, you take one forward. 

“You’re being extra bitchy today. I think you need a lesson on how to speak to people.”

“And you’re capable of doing that?” he shoots back at you. Smirks at you and pops his gum. “Thought you were only good for coffee runs, sugar.” 

You hum.

“Wanna bet?”

Scott’s head falls back onto the headboard behind him with a thick, dull thump that makes you laugh at him. Laughing at him never felt so good. 

“You’re so fucking annoying,” he groans at you while you tighten the restraints around his wrist. He pulls at them almost immediately; the wooden posts of the headboard they’re tied to don’t budge. Don’t give him any sort of relief. He doesn’t deserve it. 

You shake your head. The click of your tongue echoes in the tiny little space between your pressed-together bodies. You’re so close to him that you can practically hear his thoughts, perched on top of him and straddling his thick thighs while you grind against his thick, hardening length. You can feel it through his jeans. So much for him being able to claim he hates you. 

“That’s the exact type of talking that got you in trouble earlier, Scottie.” 

He tugs at the restraints again. They don’t budge. Again. 

“Stop calling me that,” he growls. “You’re not pretty enough to call me that.” 

That one makes you roll your eyes. Another laugh tumbles from your lips as you slip your hands down from his shoulders to his chest. While your fingers are toying with and unfastening the buttons of his stark-white work shirt, your mouth is busy telling him, “Shut the fuck up. You think I don’t see the way you look at me?”

“I don’t care about you enough to look at you any kind of way,” he sasses back while his eyes glue themselves to your fingers. 

“You must be seeing shit. Making up a story in that dumbass head of yours.” 

“You’re really digging yourself into a hole,” you reply. Every time he opens his mouth, it gets more aggressive, and it’s perfect. You haven’t been able to wipe the smirk off of your face since you got him in your bed. 

“You can act like you don’t want me. Scream about it ’til you’re blue in the face, for all I care.”

Your right hand slips lower between both of you. Lower than his stomach, lower than his happy trail that you’re trying not to drool over, lower than his belt that you unbuckle as swiftly as possible. When you slip your hand into the front of his pants, you find he’s already achingly hard. He jolts and tilts his head back, sighing in something mirroring relief when you start palming him through his boxer briefs. 

“Because that ugly fucking mouth of yours can lie all day, but this body can’t.” 

A shaky, sarcastic laugh punches out of his chest. “Yeah, sure, just…whatever.” 

His unfocused, jumbled words make you smile. He wants to fuck you so bad that he looks dumb. That he sounds dumb. You lean forward and press a few featherlight kisses on his jaw and neck, and although he’s complaining about not wanting you, he leans into those kisses. His breath hitches in his throat when your teeth ghost over his pulse point. His hips roll against your hand while it’s still working his cock through his boxer briefs. 

Your free hand travels up his stomach and chest, fingernails slowly scraping over his soft, warm skin. He groans and shudders when you slip it up to his hair and tangle your digits into his thick curls to give it a tug. You had no idea his hair could be so curly. He’s always wearing a hat; this might be the first time you’re seeing him without one. 

You take your hand out of his pants and earn a deep, agitated growl from him. 

“Fuck you,” he breathes while bucking his hips up, chasing after your hand so desperately that he loses the final whisper of credibility he had when he told you he didn’t want you.

You pull back from littering his neck in kisses. You raise an eyebrow. 

“What’d you say?” you ask. Your other hand slips out of his hair. Down toward his face. He sends you an ugly glare, but the way he shivers when your thumb runs over his sharp cheekbone and the way he glues himself to your palm tells you all you need to know. 

“Fuck you,” he repeats. 

SMACK. 

One rough slap across his right cheek. Quick and harsh enough to suck all of the air out of the room, to have him looking at you with so much anger and confusion and lust that you can’t help but laugh at him. He drops his mouth open—no doubt to berate you—but you cut him off instead. 

“That wasn’t very nice.” 

“What the fuck was that?! You crazy bit—”

You cover his mouth with your hand. His words die against your palm immediately. Probably a good thing if he wants to keep himself from getting hit again.

But he’s got his jaw clenched, and his right cheek is steadily turning pink, and his hips are stuttering and bucking when your fingers tease over the elastic band of his underwear. 

“You’re gonna learn how to talk to me tonight. You say nice things, you’ll get rewarded. You say mean things, well,” you pause and lean up on your knees to tug his pants and boxer briefs down to his thighs.

“I think you know what’ll happen,” you whisper while patting his cheek where you just smacked him so hard that your hand stung. He grumbles some barbarous insult beneath his breath. One he thought you didn’t hear, one that gives you a chance to prove you’re not lying.

SMACK.

Scott tosses his head back and squeezes his eyes shut. He whines. Bucks his hips up again, this time hard enough to make you shift in his lap. You giggle at him and gently rub his cheek. His skin is already hot. Flushed red, now; whether it’s from his embarrassment or from the force of your slap, you have no idea.

You pull your panties to the side and take your hand away from his face just to guide him into your pussy. Both of you hiss when you sink down on top of him. When he’s buried to the hilt, you whimper and shift back and forth, side to side, up and down, trying anything you can to get used to his size. He’s so much bigger than you thought he’d be. 

“Stop all that God damn squirming,” he aggressively growls when he finds his voice again. 

“If you’re gonna fuck me, at least do it right. Are you too stupid to figure it out?” 

SMACK. 

It’s so hard this time that his head snaps to the side. He’s the one squirming and whimpering now.

“You wanna try that one again?” you breathlessly ask while you start to roll your hips back and forth. Steady and slow. He shakes his head. Clenches and unclenches his jaw. Rolls a few words around on his tongue in order to decide what to say to you. 

“Just shut the fuck up and keep moving,” he pants, head lolling back against the headboard when you do as he says. 

But that first half of what he said can’t be ignored, right? 

SMACK.

“Shit,” he hisses, teeth clenched, face burning hot, hips roughly bucking up and forcing his tip to slam against the sensitive spot deep inside of you. You squeal and dig your nails into his shoulder. Scott yanks at his restraints once more. His biceps flex against the tightness of them, fingers curling around the pieces of fabric in a way that makes you feel jealous of them. 

All of it makes you feel woozy. Your head’s swimming with ecstasy, with the thrill and the heat of it all. With all of your hatred for him bubbling to the surface, blurring all the lines between you as you ride your boss in some shitty motel room that’s steadily disappearing around you. 

Your hips still. It’s all too much. You need a moment. 

“I told you not to stop,” Scott growls, denying you of said moment. 

“I knew you wouldn’t do this right. Can’t fucking do anything right, huh, sugar? So fucking pathetic.” 

SMACK. 

He groans. His body tenses and his back arches a bit. His cock twitches inside of you. Reminds you that you have the upper hand in this moment. Makes you giggle and start rocking your hips back and forth again, this time a little bit faster.

“You’re about to come already, aren’t you?” you tease. “I thought I wasn’t fucking you right?” 

“You’re not,” he lies right through his teeth. 

“No?” You shoot him a wicked little grin. 

“Fine. I’ll just stop, then, since I’m not doing it right.” 

When you stop your hips for the second time tonight, Scott lets out a rough, frustrated sigh. Looks you right in the eyes and, with all the confidence in the world, he growls, “You’re such a bitch.” 

SMACK. 

He yanks on the restraints again, this time hard enough to make the wooden posts groan. His chest heaves as he squeezes his eyes shut and throws his head back. He moans, a sing-songy little thing that makes your pussy flutter and your hips buck. 

Then he explodes. 

In the blink of an eye, he’s coming inside of you. Shooting rope after rope of his load into you while he pathetically cries out your name and buries his face in your neck, hips erratically rolling and twitching against yours. 

You tangle your fingers in his hair and yank his head out of your neck. He’s too busy coming down from his high to care about your roughness. When he opens his eyes a few seconds later, you raise your eyebrow. 

“Am I still the pathetic one? You came without me even moving.”

He laughs at you. Sends you a smile that’s actually genuine—albeit exhausted—for once. You pat his cheek, and he flinches from the contact, but that smile on his face only grows. His skin is searing hot. If he was a better person, that might have made you feel bad.

“You can be whatever you wanna be as long as you keep fucking me like this, sweet thing.” 

You hum. When you lean forward to kiss him, he accepts it. Kisses you back like this is normal, like he’s been wanting to do it, like his lips slotting along with yours is as natural as breathing. You giggle against his lips and start rocking your hips back and forth again.

Through your panting and soft whimpers, you teasingly mumble, “Look who’s finally playing nice.” 

taglist: @clarkscolumn @unificsation @luvekent @tooloudarts @clarknsun @pinksplace @tw1sters @kryptidfiles @thceseus @sparklingsin @anon-188 @avgdestitute @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger @maiamore