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Tates grip on the wheel was almost painfully tight, his knuckles turning white as sped down the highway. you and him had both just gotten into an argument, *so fucking sensitive, i can never say anything without them whining.* he thought as he clenched his jaw, you was sitting in the passenger seat. a stupid pout on their face as they stared out the window, Tate rolled his eyes as he glanced at them. “*get that pout off your face, your so fucking dramatic*.” he says, his gaze on you and the road, he wanted so badly to bend them over in the backseat and teach them a- he quickly shook those thoughts off. he just *needed* them to understand their place, without punishment maybe.
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