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pricegouge · 2 months

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Haul

Part Two MDNI

Master list | on ao3

slasher!trucker!141 x reader

series cw: dark fic. major character deaths, rape/noncon

chapter cw: stalking, car crash, graphic depictions of violence, character death/murder, vomiting

The shop's dismal - likely hasn't been remodeled since the eighties. You doubt they've rotated stock since that time either, judging by the designs on some of the packaging. You make a mental note to check expiries and idle on, the carpet of dust tracked in by generations of long haulers puffing up around your footsteps as you wait for your friend. When she's done, you hand the keys off to Ash as she shuffles past with a sleepy request to get her a Red Bull and a danish for her breakfast. You tell her no problem, waving her own card at her because you know she won't notice. From the grimy gas station window, you watch dutifully as she approaches the car and struggles with the manual lock a few times, but ultimately climbs in. You hope against hope that she's re-engaged it behind herself, though you doubt she's remembered.

You pull off for gas at a truck stop just before you get on the highway, stealing Ash's card because she never did buy you - or anyone else - a drink. She sleeps on, unaware as you fill her car up. That's what she gets for not topping it off at the last stop anyway. The relative chill of night brings out all sorts of wildlife and you swat at the bugs swarming under the station lights as you keep half an eye on the trucks assembled around you despite knowing you won't spot Simon's familiar grill. Your rearview had faithfully returned just the one truck behind you for a long time, though it had eventually turned north some miles back.

Reassured, you shake Ash awake to ask if she needs to use the restroom and follow her grouchy, tipsy ass inside. The bell above the door echoes loudly when you step through, turning the heads of the assembled mass of sleepy truckers your way. Ash doesn't seem to notice, barrelling through toward the restroom like only someone who's broken the seal already tonight could. You kinda envy her single mindedness, the obliviousness it brings. You, on the other hand, can feel every set of eyeballs on you with glaring clarity. Reasoning it's the lingering paranoia, you force indifference and peruse the coffee options while you wait for Ash to be done with the bathroom, tactfully avoiding eye contact with the man next to you by trying to appear engrossed in your phone.

The bathroom is a dingy, single person affair. The water runs too hot, creating a germophobia-inducing level of humidity that has you rushing through the motions, barely able to stand the sight of the nearly damp (seriously, why is it nearly damp?) toilet paper roll. Outside, you shudder in relief and then laugh at yourself when you see a tall man waiting in line, arching his dark, perfectly sculpted eyebrow at your antics.

"Sorry," you giggle. "It's uh -." Glancing between the bathroom and him, you affect a sympathetic grimace and wish him luck in there.

He curls his lip at you. "Did you blow it up?"

"What -? No. God, no. Sorry, it's just uh -." You try to laugh it off, stop dead as he continues to look unamused. "You know what? Nevermind. Have a good one." Breezing past him, you smirk viciously when you hear him enter the bathroom with a small, distressed-sounding cry.

You're just putting the cap on your coffee when he finds you again, announcing his presence by standing much too close and waiting for you to look up at him. "Sorry about… that," he starts and you shrug noncommittally. "I did not, in fact, have good luck in there."

Despite your better judgment, he earns himself a laugh with that one. He's handsome, the charm that comes with it enough to earn you over when he's not actively being an asshole. "Tried to warn you."

"You did," he agrees, big brown eyes gleaming with mischief. "And I was a right dick. I'd blame it on all these odd hours I've been keeping, but that's no excuse."

You nod thoughtfully, hoping if you don't take the conversational bait soon enough, he'll let it drop. A beat passes, another. Tall and handsome doesn't pardon himself and you sigh. "So, are you a trucker?"

"Who else would be haunting a truck stop at such an ungodly hour?" He laughs, but the humor doesn't reach his eyes. Instead they're hard, questioning.

You offer no answer. "Right, well. Hopefully your hours get a little better soon." You tip your coffee to him as if in cheers, turning back toward the pastry aisle.

He doesn't let you get far. "Did I see you back at that roadhouse?" he asks abruptly, and you spin on the spot, incensed suddenly.

"Excuse me?"

Doe eyes offers no explanation, instead looking you over openly as you do in kind. Tall, lean, he's the kind of handsome that would stand out anywhere, let alone in some ratty old bar in the middle of nowhere Arizona, where a man wearing a gaiter to cover his cleft lip and shredded nose had been the only one attractive enough to grab your attention all night. "You weren't -?"

"Where's your friend?"

There's no helping the way your eyes automatically dart to the window. Outside, Ash looks for all the world to have fallen peacefully asleep, but here, in this dirty little truckstop with your arms full of shitty, cheap snacks, it's dawning on you that you've now met two truckers with English accents in one night, and that's probably not normal.

"Not her," this new one says now, eyes unblinking as they bore into you. "Big guy. Simon."

It's unclear, in the panic that follows, if you bother telling him to go fuck himself before dropping your loot to the floor and scurrying off, hot coffee splashing across your ankles. He laughs as he calls after you, hollering about keeping your shirt on. You feel bile begin its ascent up your esophagus and swallow it back hard.

A truck blocks your path as you emerge from the store, air brakes firing loud enough to drown out the bell over the door. You dart around the back of it, and then instantly regret it when the driver hangs his head out the window to yell at you about situational awareness and general truck safety in an accent that has you fumbling with the driver's side handle.

"Yae listening to me?" he demands, and you spare him a glance just long enough to memorize intense, icy blue eyes and a fucking mohawk. You console yourself to know if you're going to be stalked across state by three Europeans, at least they're none too inconspicuous.

Ignoring the Scot, you eye the storefront through the gap between his trailer and cab. You don't spot the other one, which only makes your anxious yanking on the handle worse. "C'mon," you hiss, banging on the glass when you realize your worry that Ash would forget to lock the door had been unfounded, as she had indeed locked you out.

You start yelling and pounding on it when mohawk climbs down from his cab, hollering about wanting to talk to you. "Ash!" You're not even watching for a reaction, eyes darting between the known threats in your peripheral. The Scot is nearing, rounding the end of the car while on the other side of his trailer, you spy the clerk watching apathetically from the relative safety of the cash wrap. Your eyes dart back to the approaching driver as you bang on the window more, but then rip back toward the store when you realize the scope of your gaze takes in much more than you should be able to see, considering you've been left to look through the gap between cab and trailer.

It takes you a moment to realize what you're looking at, the small trailer not something you ever would have noticed before tonight. Now, however, you recognize the odd silhouette of the short container on the full size rig the moment you focus on it, remembering how it followed you out of the bar.

"Stay away," you warn as mohawk rounds the corner. He does not look at all swayed by your words. You're debating trying your luck with running when the door moves beneath your hands, cracking you in the hip.

"Get in!" Ash yells, but you're already on it, slamming the door shut before the Scot can even take another step. He's in your window soon enough though, banging on it and testing the lock much like you had. He mocks you, mimicking your cries to let him in. You try to ignore it in favor of fumbling with the keys while Ash jitters in the seat next to you, far too confused to be much help.

"Who is that?" she asks, just as the engine roars to life. You peel out, pushing the old beater for all it's worth while Ash keeps muttering questions you don't have the answers to. She watches the rearview so you can focus on driving, letting you know when mohawk's truck exits the station in hot pursuit.

You curse, daring to press ever harder on the accelerator, hoping against hope that even this old piece of shit has better pick up than a semi. It goes well until it doesn't: your headlights shining on the tail of yet another truck which rushes up to meet you at an alarming speed. Easing into the oncoming lane, you try to pass it, only to veer right back in when the cab of the truck comes swerving out in front of you.

"What is this guy's problem?" you seethe, blaring on your horn. Ash whines warningly, but you don't need to check the rearview to know the Scot is coming in hot; his headlights reflected in the chrome trailer in front of you above your own. The truck up ahead seems unsympathetic, returning fire with his air horn as he continues to weave into your path.

"Look, the ramp!" Ash calls, pointing to the sign for the upcoming interstate. You nod, already planning a daringly illegal U-turn using one of the highway's emergency turnabouts if it comes to it because you know if nothing else, Ash's shitty car can bang a quicker turn than the asshole behind you can.

Too bad the trucker in front seems to recognize this possibility, too. When he puts his blinker on for the ramp, you don't think much of it beyond a general frustration that you'll be stuck behind him a while longer; but when he eases his truck onto the exit and just… doesn't move, you know you've miscalculated.

"There's room," Ash asserts, pointing to the scrap of space left in front of the nose of the truck. You hesitate, knowing full well that it was a move Ash herself would've been able to pull off, but doubting your ability to make the turn at the speed you were currently going.

"Fuckin', go!" You lock up when Ash leans over and yanks the wheel, doing your best to simply maintain speed. There's a moment of relief as you count each wheel slipping past the passenger window, and then the chrome truck releases its brakes, tapping your front bumper just hard enough to send you tail spinning back out into the road.

Returning to yourself, you curse as you yank on the wheel, slamming on your brakes when the chrome truck follows you back out onto the lane so as not to get can opened by the bottom of his trailer. You evade the truck in front, blessedly, but in all the commotion you'd missed the twenty footer coming in hot behind you, and you nearly bite your tongue off when he rear ends you with just enough force to lock your seatbelts, knocking the wind from you.

"What the fuck is going on!?" Ash demands. "Did you piss them off?"

You want to tell her to shut her mouth; want to cry even more. You only realize you already are when you go to respond and find your voice croaky and weak. "There was a man inside. He - he said he'd seen us at the bar and asked where Simon was. He freaked me out cause he had an English accent and I feel like I definitely would've noticed him at the bar, but I didn't see him there -."

"He cute?" Ash can't help but ask, glomming onto the way you'd said you would've noticed him.

"Can you focus!?"

"Right, sorry."

"So I came running outside, only that fucking guy," you motion behind you illustratively, "started yelling at me and he also has an accent, and then I realized he has a short trailer like the one that followed us out of the bar and -. And -."

"Shit," Ash hisses, following your train of thought. "Okay. Fuck. Okay."

"This was coordinated, right? That's the guy from the store in front of us. They had to have planned -!" You're cut off from continuing when another love tap to your back end gets the car jolting. "I don't wanna fucking die like this," you mutter, eyeing the rear bumper in front of you which you're damn near eye level with. If the Scot wanted to, he could ram you so hard you'd kiss that chrome and lose your head in the process.

"You're not gonna die here." Ash's voice is oddly assertive. Reassuring. You glance at her, surprised to see her unbuckling. You ask what she's doing but she ignores you, shoving at the sunroof window until you hear the wind whipping down into the cabin.

"Ash, what the fuck?" you repeat, too concentrated on keeping the car perfectly equidistant between the two trucks to figure out how to stop her.

"Just wanna talk," she nearly laughs as she hauls herself half out the sunroof, screaming threats and obscenities.

You go rigid with fear, sweating as you try to maintain perfect speed because you know if you get knocked from either end right now, your friend will likely end up with a broken spine. You try telling her as much, but between the wind and the yelling, your voice doesn't even carry far enough to reach your own ears. Unable to watch the rearview for the body currently blocking it, you keep your eyes glued to the chrome trailer in front of you, measuring mohawk's distance based on the size of his headlight glare. You're doing well, even feeling confident enough to attempt pulling Ash back into the car - when doe eyes taps his brakes and you panic, toe easing onto your own just hard enough to have the Scot barrelling into you.

A grunt and an oddly chunky splashing sound. You worry Ash was somehow JFK'd down the back of the car, but then she's collapsing back into her seat, clutching her belly and wiping sick from her face.

"Shit, are you okay?" You cry, hands shaking where they grip the wheel. Ash just nods, going wide eyed as her eyes shift past you out the back window.

In the reflection of the chrome trailer, you see mohawk's headlights drift off into the oncoming lane. For just a moment, you allow relief to wash over you, even tapping your brakes to let him merge ahead of you. Then his tail end clears your own and another set of headlights glare back at you, white hot and molten as they spill across the sheet metal of the trailer.

"God damnit," Ash groans, pushing back against the dashboard with shaky hands. "Simon."

Beside you, mohawk turns his cabin light on, leaning across his passenger seat to leer down at you with a wild grin. He waves like an old friend would, happy and bright, and you scream in frustration as the truck behind you creeps up too close.

The first side swipe is a test, you know it the moment he makes impact. The car jolts as if of its own accord, but comes back to heel easy enough: a spooked horse under a well-trained hand. You don't fight the sob that builds up within you despite the relative ease with which you handle it, however, knowing full well the Scot would run you off the road whenever he goddamn felt like it.

Ash knows it, too. "You're gonna have to pull off." She nods out her passenger window toward the vast expanse of flattened dirt and shaggy shrubs. Through your tears, it may as well be a field of pitch, or black ice.

"I'll spin out."

"You'll get pancaked if you stay," she counters and you nod, steeling yourself.

Only for the Scot on your left to pull the trigger for you and come slamming into the driver's side with enough force to send the car rolling off the road -.

A sharp jerk, a sudden thud. Your shoulder grates further into your body than you're certain your collar bone should allow. There is the all consuming shrieking of metal, but you hear it as if from below water. Next to you, Ash ragdolls in her seat, arm flying across and eclipsing your field of vision. There is a void, and then it is filled; a diaphragm contracting as everything rushes inward. Ash's arm is caught in the rush and with a sickening crack it is pulled backward into the orbit of your nose, pushed along by the swelling of a crisp white tide that grows to encase you from all sides. It crackles and whips, attempts to push Ash's arm clean through the back of your skull. There is a sound like percussive wood; a sharp, hollow tone but deep like mahogany and violent as a mallet. You're already screaming when you register that it is the sound of your cheek bone breaking.

With the pain comes clarity, and the world spins back into its proper speed. The beater comes to a stop teetering on its side, the combined weight of you and Ash, who had still been unbuckled, resting almost exclusively on the seat belt which cuts violently into your busted clavicle. Airbags deflate slowly, leave you panicking for breath before they collapse in pathetic limp forms which hang like ghosts from the passenger side of the car.

It takes you a moment to realize the reason you can't hear the creaking noise of the car still settling, or Ash's responses to your mumbled requests to know she's alive is because of the ringing in your ears. You panic at first - dully, as if in sympathy with a character from a movie -, thinking she'd surely been jostled around too much without her belt on, but to your immense relief, she wriggles above you just a moment later, trying to pry herself off of you by bracing her good arm on the wheel. Her voice sounds gurgly when she speaks, a low curse you can barely hear for the way your own ear seems to be screaming.

"Are you okay?" she mouths, tears and snot and blood dripping down her face. You feel the heat of bodily fluids on your neck and exposed arm, but don't know who they belong to.

"I think so," you grumble, despite knowing full well you are not. You pray your adrenaline doesn't crash any time soon, as you know the second it does you will be fully incapacitated. "My face," you croak, flinching away from your own fingers when you go to touch it.

Ash nods. You think she tells you not to touch it. She's blurry, out of focus. Your cheek throbs as if in explanation. "Arm's fucked."

"Can you move it?"

She shakes her head once, fully aborts it when she falls still, eyes staring out the sunroof. "We have to go."

"Go?" Even as you say it, you know she's right. That doesn't stop your whole body from shuddering at the thought. Still, you crane your head enough to peer out the window, breath coming short when you see Simon's truck stopped on the side of the road not thirty yards away. Further up, doe eyes and mohawk are climbing out of their own cabs, dome lights illuminating the dark fabric that covers their faces. "Are they -?"

"Where's your phone?"

You could slap yourself for being so stupid, if not for the fear of hurting yourself further. With Ash's weight off of you, you fumble around for the back pocket where you usually keep the device, only to draw cold when you don't feel it there. "I don't… have it. Where's yours?" Ash looks around herself dramatically as if inviting you to take a guess. "Well, it's gotta be around here somewhere."

Ash, who never keeps her phone in her pocket while in the car despite it being the safest option for reasons exactly like this, just scoffs as she nods toward the center console where it had been stashed. "Could've been thrown from the window for all I fucking know. Seriously, where's yours?"

"I told you, I don't -."

"Well where's the last place you -?"

Three blasts from a nearby air horn shut you both up immediately. It's loud as hell, cutting across the barren landscape with enough force you're surprised it doesn't knock the car back right side up. Scrambling, the two of you peer out the sunroof and watch as Simon's dome light extinguishes - no man within. Three silhouettes cut the shaft of headlights between Simon's truck and mohawk's. In the harsh light, the white designs of their masks glow ominously, seem to absorb the light and take it with them as they step out of the direct beam, pale expressions still contrasting the large dark forms of them as they pick their way across dirt and shrubs.

Above you, you feel Ash shift some more and nod along approvingly when she cranks her window down. It fights her, knocked from its track most like, but with a moment and a well-timed grunt of exertion, it gives and lowers. You fumble with your own seatbelt for a minute, groaning in pain and frustration when the belt looses and you fall against the driver's door with a rough thud, shoulder protesting violently enough to steal your breath.

"Can you move?" Ash asks, one foot on the side of your seat while the other balances precariously on the steering wheel. She's crouched enough so as not to stick her head out the window and you can't help but spare a thought for how smart that is, as you're certain these freaks have guns. You tell her through grit teeth that you think you're good, but when you try to straighten yourself up between her thighs, you yelp in pain and she grimaces sympathetically.

But not sympathetic enough, it seems.

"Where are you going?" you snap, watching in shock as she hoists herself out her window with her good arm. She takes a moment to stare down at you from where she perches precariously on the door, mumbling through tears about how very sorry she is, and how she only needs to outrun you. No sooner does she say this, however, than does the beam of a flashlight reveal her form to you in all its battered and bloody glory.

"Pup," Simon orders succinctly. When you look, you see mohawk take off sprinting in your direction, one mean-looking rod gripped tight in his fist.

Ash's curse covers your own. She's gone by the time you glance back to her, a quick thud from the bottom of the car and the shuffling of feet on dry dirt telling you she's jumped off. You scream for her to wait, to help you, to watch out, but she doesn't respond to any of it.

Meanwhile, mohawk closes in, course unchanged. You wriggle violently as he draws near, but he doesn't slow as he approaches, and you gasp in shock when he leaps up onto the passenger's door with no issue, solid body causing the car to rock and groan under him. You worry about the car flipping again, but mohawk doesn't give it a chance. With a cruel laugh, he follows Ash back over the other side and you hear her shriek in horror before a low thud and a wet sound leaves her sobbing breathlessly.

"Don't be greedy," doe eyes calls. You think maybe mohawk yells something back, but you're too busy scrambling out the sunroof to pay it much mind, Ash's horrible screams and sobs echoing around your skull.

"Ash?" you croak, pulling yourself one-armed out of the wreckage. Twisted metal and bent casing scrape your belly, dirt clinging to your tender skin. Your head throbs with every movement but you keep hauling yourself on, even when the flashlight cuts down to you, casting long, odd shadows across the dirt as it refracts through pebbles of shatter-proof glass. Frantically, you search your pockets for your phone again, but you're stopped with a scream when a boot presses down on your injured shoulder.

"Looking for this?" a familiar voice asks, dangling your own phone in front of you like a bit of bait. It's hard to think clearly, given your current predicament, but even still you cast back through the events of the night, trying to remember the last place you'd had it, how any of them could have ended up with it. You recall playing on it back at the store as you'd waited for the restroom, placing it on the sink as you'd rushed through your routine, and then -.

You remember how friendly doe eyes had been after he'd emerged from the restroom. Unbidden, your brain replays the cry he'd loosed when he'd entered, though it sounds distinctly more excited this time.

You try to reach for it, curse your own sluggishness when he yanks it away with a cruel laugh. Strong hands wrap around your upper arms, pulling you to your feet despite the yelp of pain you emit when your shoulder collapses too far inward.

"Not that one, Gaz," Simon rumbles, and the flashlight slips past you long enough you can focus on the face in front of you: wide, deep eyes framed in pretty, long lashes; set within the hollow of a skull balaclava.

Doe eyes - Gaz - frowns between you and the other man. "For cap?" When Simon doesn't respond, Gaz continues, "Or for you?"

"For us, provided you don't fuck it up." The thought sends a shiver through you, even if you don't quite fully understand the implication. You try to spit at him in protest, cringe at the taste of blood. Simon just stares back at you with those big dark eyes, black as pitch in the wan moonlight. With Ash's hellish screams still underscoring the scene, it's not hard to imagine you'd actually died in the crash - that this is your personal tartarus, these men your personal demons.

As if none the wiser to your internal struggle, Simon reaches out a gloved hand to stroke your swollen, achy cheek. The nylon may as well be fiberglass against your tender skin, and he tuts almost sympathetically when you flinch away. "Shouldn't have run, pet. Your friend would still be alive if you'd just come with me."

Guilt comes crashing over you when you realize you haven't been focusing on the sounds of Ash's struggles. She's still sobbing, the occasional dull thuds that rain on her evidently not quite enough to shut her up. You whimper and Simon zeros in on it, eyes predator-sharp, intense as his headlights in your rearview.

"How's it going over there, Johnny?" he calls, never once looking away from you.

One last sickening crunch stops Ash's shrieking, and you nearly throw up at the implication. "Nearly there, LT," Johnny calls back. His voice is unbearably cheery.

"What do you think, Betty," he rumbles at you, too low for the others to hear. "Not too boring for her now, is it?" When you don't respond beyond a loud gulp, he carries on unbothered, calling to Johnny, "Well, finish it up. We got company."

You make yourself woozy, the speed at which you whip your head around to see the new headlights reflecting in his dark eyes. Behind his truck, a small passenger van rolls to a stop and idles, the driver hanging his head out the window to ask if everything's alright.

Gaz's reflexes are faster than yours, his hand clamping over your mouth before you can try screaming for help. The resulting muffled gurgle isn't even enough to cover the last wet crunch of Johnny's kill, and you sob into the hand that covers your mouth, though that does you no good either.

"I'll deal with him," Simon murmurs, slipping off with far too much grace for a man his size. His heavy boots barely make a sound on the dry, caked dirt as he prowls back up toward the road, heavy mag light in his hand the only reliable indication of his whereabouts.

With the ring of light gone, Johnny feels emboldened enough to creep out from around the back of the car. A heavy scrape follows him, and it takes you a moment to realize it's Ash's slumped body being dragged along by the crow bar he's got lodged under her ribs but when you do, there's no stopping the sick that floods your mouth. Gaz pulls away with a disgusted snarl. You heave for breath, trying to find enough air within your lungs to call for help again. The notion is put to an end when Gaz kicks you in the belly and you retch up what's remained in your stomach.

"You scream for help, and I won't hesitate to slit your fucking throat," he hisses, thin slice of metal digging into your neck demonstratively. "Trust, it's not me who wants to keep you."

The reminder has you casting about for Simon again, spotting him coming around the driver's side of the van now. Some words are exchanged, the dome light of the van turning on when the driver begins to search his glove box. Simon waits patiently for him to sit back up in his seat before reaching through the open window and strangling him one-handed in a move so predictable it's almost comical. Or would be, if it all wasn't so very real.

Hot tears streak your face, nearly molten where they fall over your pained, swollen cheek. On either side of you, Gaz and Johnny laugh, mimicking the driver's pathetic attempts to dislodge the much larger man. You let their laughter wash over you for a moment, brain trudging through options while they're distracted. Running is almost certainly out of the option in your state, but fighting them off might be possible if you were properly armed.

It's difficult to not see Ash as you reach toward her, eyes taking in all the damage done. Your hand finds her mangled arm first, skin nearly squishy under your fingers with the bruises she'd no doubt incurred while trying to protect herself. You crawl closer, yank on the crow bar the second you feel it in your grasp. Her whole body rolls with it, but the weapon doesn't budge. Slipping your grasp down closer to where it penetrates her, you readjust your grip and ease it straight out, relieved when it slides from her with little more than a wet squelch. You peek back up at your attackers as you adjust your grip again, knowing full well you'll only get one good shot at this. It's hard to decide which of the two of them would make for the better target. Clearly, Johnny has proven himself as a vicious killer, but you doubt Gaz would be here if he weren't also capable. And something about the way he looks at you makes you think he's just waiting for a chance.

In the end, you don't think about it too much. Simply swing and hope for the best. A loud, definitively Scottish 'Och!' lets you know that you got Johnny, but you don't stay to see the outcome. Ignoring the protesting of your entire body, you heave yourself to your feet and take off running further into the open landscape. There's nowhere to hide, no hope on any horizon. It doesn't stop you from giving it your best shot.

You hear Gaz swear, the scuffle of his feet as he takes off after you. You don't register much else, your own heavy breaths covering all other sounds. A cluster of pain blooms behind your bad eye, vision whiting out on that side. You don't stop, winging the crowbar blindly behind yourself in hopes it cracks your pursuer on the temple. You only realize it didn't when he tackles you to the ground, long, firm limbs wrapped tight around your body as he rolls you into the dirt. You struggle, kick, bite, and spit. Gaz bodies it all with little more than a few huffy grunts. He punches you heavily on your bad shoulder, but only earns himself a renewed vigor to the bucks you use to try dislodging him. He's heavier than he looks, though - all wiry muscle. He doesn't budge, instead grabbing you by either side of your head and slamming his own down hard onto the bridge of your nose.

There's more commotion after that, though you don't really register it. For the second time that night, the voices around you grow dull and undefined through the ringing of your ears. Light cuts through your head like a knife a few times, but everytime you flinch away, it follows you cruelly until you whimper in pain. Eventually, the ground lurches away from you, and then you're floating, head lolling woozily. Your brain trips in and out of urgency, misfiring like a bad engine. You note the strong, dangerous arms that keep you trapped against a sturdy chest with alarm, but the next second your panic leaves you tired and worn out as your eye focuses on the packed earth beneath heavy boots. A small, scuttling scorpion rushes past and you shudder closer to the warmth that's ensnared you, unthinking.

"That's right, pet. Just relax and it'll all go much better for you."

It's Simon, you're sure of it. Alarm works through your system like old, clotted oil: sticky, dangerous. Despite everything, he scares you the least at the moment, and you let yourself sink into his hold for a moment.

And then the squeal of a metal hinge has you jolting back to reality, clinging to Simon's shirt even as he tosses you unceremoniously up onto the cold, worn floor of a shipping container. You scramble, but Johnny follows you up, crowding you past wrapped pallets of bulk items until you reach the corrugated back end. He coos at you all the while despite the limp you've left him with, lilted nonsense that rings in your ears as it bounces off the metal siding. Desperate, you move to lunge past him, but he slams you back with a thick hand on your chest.

"Easy, hen," he soothes, "not gonnae hurt yae." You know better, fears proven when he leans past you to push at a panel in the siding, seam so flush it's barely visible even in the harsh light of the torch. Behind it, the threat of a small barren crawlspace keeps you distracted while Gaz approaches wielding zip ties. Soap collects both your hands in his own, your attempts to dislodge him almost laughable. The ties bite into the skin of your wrists and ankles, Gaz looking particularly proud of himself. You lunge, trying to bite him, but he just pushes you back against the siding with a firm palm to your forehead and a dark laugh. He holds you in place there, makes you look as he dangles a bloody scrap of fabric in front of you. He waits until you recognize it as Ash's shirt before shoving it into your mouth, holding his palm there while you struggle not to be sick again. He looks almost disappointed when you succeed. Duct tape holds the gag in place, pulled tight enough to cut into the swelling of your cheek. It hurts, and there's no stopping the tears that flow freely down your face, blending and soaking into Ash's tank. Breathing comes hard, nose so swollen you can't rely on it. Instead, you work hard to pull each inhale through tape and wet fabric, every breath tainted with metal and salt.

They don't give you a moment to recover, manhandling you through the port until you're sprawled, face up, in the tiny space behind the false back of the trailer. You try screaming, nearly pass out when you can't get enough air in your lungs. The grating of the metal as the push the panel back into place feels sharp enough to puncture your eardrums, but the stillness that follows when they're done and retreated is even worse. It's hard to hear over your own panting breaths, but then a moment lapses, another. You imagine they're talking, planning. You think this is the most frightened you've ever been in your life, even with everything else that's happened tonight - and then the mag light cuts out, the illuminated seam of the panel door blinking out with it, and the squeal of metal hinges tells you they've locked you in and you know it gets much worse than this.

next>>

#dark fic #dead dove fic #141 x you #141 x reader #haul #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #kyle garrick x reader #Kyle garrick x you #john mactavish x reader #john mactavish x you #john price x reader #john price x you #💷🔪

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joeys-babe · 1 year

Text

Joey B Imagines: Honeymoon*

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summary: you had given birth to your beautiful baby girl just under a year before you and joe got married. to make the honeymoon something to look even more forward to, you decided to wait till then to have sex for the first time since giving birth.

warnings: smut

pairing: joe burrow x reader

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(y/n’s pov)

joe was getting antsy, that's for sure.

it was honeymoon night and he was excited for what was about to happen next.

he was standing behind me, holding our leftovers in his hands as i tried to use the key to open.

i felt him shift behind me. he was looking over my shoulder. im guessing trying to figure out what was taking so long.

"here give me the key." - joe

"no. it's okay, i got it." - you

"give me the key." - joes voice grew stern. he wasn't offering, he was demanding

he handed me the leftovers from the restaurant we had just left as i gave him the key.

joe got the door open and quickly walked in, he moved out of the way so i could follow him and then he closed and locked the door behind me.

i walked over to the fridge and put the food up, knowing joe was watching me.

"baby.. can we go to bed?" - joe

"yeah lemme shower first." - you looked at him innocently, playing dumb

"that's not what i- you know what never mind. i'll be waiting for you in here, okay?" - joe

"okay joey." - you

i left joe alone and walked into the master suite, in all honesty i wasn't about to shower. i was gonna use this time to get ready for what usually leads to a shower.

i turned the water on to be safe, i didn't want him to hear me opening my suitcase up.

unzipping my bag, i dug to the bottom and grabbed the lace black lingerie that had been hiding.

slipping it on, i felt so confident in it but i definitely still had my doubts.

after that i re-curled some pieces of my hair that had fallen.

for the next 10 minutes i just sat in the bathroom scrolling through my phone, not exactly stalling but also trying to kill some time.

i wanted to make sure sam was asleep so i called my best friend, alexa.

"are you and joe not fucking right now?" - alexa

"oh my god, no. i'm in the bathroom alone." - you

"okay.. what's up?" - alexa

"i just wanted to talk, we really haven’t talked since the wedding yesterday." - you

“uhm.. okay?” - alexa

"so like how've you been?" - you

"y/n.. what are you stalling for?" - alexa

"i'm not stalling!" - you

"you just got very defensive, why are you hiding in the bathroom?" - alexa

"okay so.. im literally in the bathroom wearing lingerie stalling because i'm scared" - you

"of what?!" - alexa

"what if joe doesn't like how i look.. my body has changed a lot after having the baby and i'm scared he's not gonna find me attractive anymore." - you

"y/n burrow. you're speaking nonsense." - alexa

"i- i'm just scared" - you

"you really think joe isn't gonna like how you look? you know he's obsessed with you, i'm sure he's already tried to make moves on you today. no way he'd pass up the chance of joining the mile high club with you on your way there." - alexa

"okay yeah he has been making moves, but i'm still worried!" - you

"don't overthink it. are you just going to walk up to him in it?" - alexa

"uh no, i was thinking about putting something over it. i brought one of his jerseys, but i could also use one of the robes here" - you

"no use the jersey, i'm gonna go now. good look, babe!" - alexa

"thanks.." - you

she hung up and i let out a loud sigh.

i turned the water off and quietly slipped into the bedroom, making my way over to my suitcase and unzipping it.

grabbing the jersey i ran my hand over the letters on the back. it was something about seeing my new last name on the back.

i put it on and smoothed it out as i took a deep breath and started down the hallway.

when i got to the end of the hallway i saw joe sitting on the couch shirtless. the tv was on but he wasn't watching it, when i looked over his shoulder i saw that he was looking at the wedding pictures that we had just received.

i put my hands over his eyes, he jumped slightly but he quickly realized it was just me.

"guess who?" - you

"uhhh... i have no idea. is that you coach??" - joe

i laughed slightly before taking my hands off and walking in front of him.

"holy shit." - joes eyes scanned your body

he dropped his phone next to him, making it known that his full attention was on me.

"you like what ya see?" - you did a slow spin

after i did my spin and i was facing him again, seeing the look in his eyes made my stomach drop.

"fuck yeah." - joe

i moved forward and straddled him.

wrapping my arms around his neck as his arms snaked around my waist, i let my lips fall to his.

"you're all mine." - joe mumbled into the kiss

his hands migrated to my hips as he started moving me back and forth, grinding me against him.

still grinding against him, his lips left mine as his kisses wandered down to my neck, there were definitely going to be visible marks.

as he was sucking on my neck i let out a moan and grabbed onto his hair causing him to grip my hips.

"no matter how good you look in my jersey, i need to get it off of ya." - joe

he bunched up some of the fabric and looked up at me, wanting me to either tell him to continue or to stop.

"please joe." - you

"please what baby?" - joe grinned dirtily

"take it off me." - you gripped his biceps

joe pulled the jersey over my head and threw it to the side. when he saw the lingerie i had hidden underneath his eyes darkened to a shade id never seen before.

"fucking hell, you're so beautiful." - joe groaned

"i- i was scared you wouldn't like it." - you

joe’s whole body tensed up and it felt like the whole world stopped, please tell me i didn't just ruin this moment.

"what?" - joe

"i don't know, i'm sorry for saying anything.. it's just that my body has changed since having the baby and i was worried you wouldn't be attracted to how i looked in the lingerie." - you

"baby.. are you being for real? i mean this in the most serious way possible but you know you turn me into a horny teenager." - joe

i laughed slightly before i started rubbing his arms.

"again i'm sorry for even saying anything, i was just a little self conscious." - you

"you're safe with me babe... do you want me to keep going?" - joe

"oh yes of course... i need you." - you

"that's it, can you get up for a sec" - joe

i nodded and stood up from sitting on him. he too stood up and pulled his shorts down, his impressive length flinging free.

"no boxers?" - you grinned

"it's our honeymoon, thought i'd have them off more often then on so what's the point of wearing ‘em." - joe smirked

"you're so hot." - you stared at him open mouthed

"i know, gorgeous c’mere." - joe

he sat down on the couch and grabbed the underside of my thighs, pulling me to him.

joe gently put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me down onto the floor.

once on my knees, he didn't even have to tell me what to do. this position was all too familiar.

joe let his eyes close as he felt my hand wrap around him, his head falling back as he let out a groan when the movements increased.

when my lips wrapped around his tip he dropped one of his hands from the couch and let it find my hair, he wrapped my hair around his hand controlling the depth and pace.

"i don't think you understand.. how fucking good this feels." - joe moaned

i used my hand to continue the movements on his base.

endless groans, moans, and curses flew out of his mouth. thank god there is no one else staying anywhere close to us.

i noticed his breathing quicken as his hands started guiding me with more strength.

"your mouth y/n, holy shit!" - joe moaned

he came not much longer after that. he let go of my hair and leaned forward, pulling me into a kiss.

"get up here with me. it's your turn" - joe breathed out

i suddenly became very nervous, sure i was excited to be brought pleasure and i was glad it was from joe... but i was just so nervous.

when he noticed i hadn't moved from my position below him joe opened his eyes and leaned up.

"you okay? you're safe with me baby." - joe

"i- i know, and uh i'm okay." - you

"are you just a little nervous?" - joe

i nodded and he reached out for my hand, lifting me up to stand.

"that's okay, it's the first time since you gave birth. you know i won't hurt ya, and if i do something that makes you uncomfortable tell me to stop immediately okay?" - joe

"okay.. thank you." - you

"you don't have to thank me." - joe

i stood up from my kneeling position and sat down next to him.

"i love you." - you kissed him

"love you too babe, now what am i gonna do with you?" - joe smirked

joe turned me to where i was laying flat on my back against the couch.

he gently parted my legs and started placing kisses on the inside of my thighs.

"don't tease, burrow" - you

"be patient, burrow" - joe looked up at me with a grin

good lord... this man.

joe moved the fabric aside as he connected his lips to my core, i was seeing stars.

"fuck joe!" - you moaned

i could literally feel him smile against me.

his mouth was literal magic, and it wasn't long till i was practically screaming his name.

the smug look on his face was evident.

he knew the effect he had on me and it turned him on extremely.

looking down and seeing his already hard again and throbbing dick more than ready to be inside of me was exciting.

"i think you're more than ready for me." - joe

"joey." - you whined

"yeah baby? what is it?" - joe

i moaned in response, unable to form words as i watched him slowly pump himself.

"i need your dick in me, please joe." - you

"i forgot how needy you are." - joe

"shut up and fuck me." - you

"don't gotta tell me twice." - joe

he got on top of me, his hands on either side of my head holding himself up.

i wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down to me, our lips engaging in a filthy kiss as he entered me.

"oh my god- fuck." - joe

we were too busy moaning into each others mouths to kiss.

his thrusts were fast and hard, but i needed more.

"joey." - you moan

"yeah?" - joe breathed out

"harder." - you

"your wish is my command, mama." - joe

his hips met mine with heavy hard thrusts.

i was slowly moving farther up on the couch because of him literally pounding into me.

"damn it!" - joe groaned

with joe on top i could see his facial expression's, those that only showed how good he was feeling.

multiple thrusts later i could feel that unmistakable feeling in my stomach.

"joey, im close." - you gripped his biceps

he acted fast, his already ferocious pace speeding up as i moaned louder and louder.

"that's it baby, just let go." - joe groaned

that and a few more thrusts had me coming apart underneath him.

but the thing is, joe hadn't finished yet.

"babe." - your breathy voice rang out

"yeah?" - joe

"turn us." - you

"baby, you don't have too-" - joe

"i said turn us." - you

joe grabbed me and turned us around with ease, his back was now against the couch and i was on top.

in all honesty i didn't have the energy to ride him, but i wasn't about to let him walk away from this without finishing.

slowly, i started moving on his length. taking every glorious inch of him and then pulling off.

joes neck was rolling in every which way as his nose and eyes were scrunched.

"fuck, baby." - joe moaned

he had his hands on my hips to help guide me at the speed he wanted.

"i'm about to cum, y/n." - joe

i grabbed the back of neck and pulled him up to me, his lips attacking mine.

joe let out a guttural sound into the kiss as i felt him let go inside of me.

i got off of him and dropped next to him onto the couch. joe immediately pulled me to him and rubbed my naked back.

"that was amazing.." - joe

"mhm." - you mumbled against his chest

"i know you already showered, but we should go wash up." - joe

"i never showered." - you giggled as you traced the ridges in his abs

"okay well now you can come take a bath with me. i saw that huge tub in there so i know this is about to be relaxing.” - joe

he stood up and grabbed my hand, pulling me up.

i stumbled a bit, my legs were still wobbly from what we had just done but joe guided me to the bathroom.

he lowered in first and then i did, my back against his chest as i sat between his legs.

"i love you so much baby, i'm so happy you're my wife." - joe rubbed your shoulders

"i love you too, hubby." - you

we both giggled at the nickname before he kissed my forehead.

i've never felt so loved.

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authors note: why are imagines so much more fun to write than stories?

hope you enjoyed it!! ❤️❤️

#joe burrow #bengals #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #joey b #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow smut

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with-my-murder-flute · 1 year

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TLT theory: Aim, Jod, and the second part of the message

My brain is fevered. I feel like I've constructed an elaborate Pepe Silvia corkboard in my mind, and it feels like it makes sense of everything, but I honestly have no clue if that certainty will last very long.

I think I know what the Messenger is carrying. I think I know why John has waited ten thousand years.

Spooky preview quote from HtN chapter 2:

I mastered Death, Harrowhark; I wish I’d done the smarter thing and mastered Time.

Spoilers for Gideon, Harrow, and Nona the Ninth.

BoE's chronology has always been kind of weird to me: Five thousand years after the Resurrection happens, they pop up with intense and detailed knowledge of the 21st century! Jod destroys languages and cultures and societies, but BoE keeps popping up! How.

Originally I thought the continuous thread over the years was a Lyctor who helped them (and the necromantic implant does seem to point that way) but I also think part of it is that the ships that escaped just before Earth's devastation have been showing up one by one, over a huge span of time. That's why Wake says "My long-dead natal sun" and can quote Eminem at length; she spent ten thousand years suspended in time, before re-entering it.

NtN, John 19:18:

They said they’d managed to find some poor dipshit geek who’d fixed the FTL problem of getting locked in the chrono well, you know, moving so fast you were stuck doing quantum wheelies. They’d come up with something where you could oscillate out so long as the ship was attuned to a prearranged spectrum outside. I still don’t understand the maths. It’s going to take me ten thousand years to understand it. I couldn’t follow, but A— could. He said immediately, What is the point if you still have no fucking clue where your ship is going to end up when you shake out of FTL. They said, Aha, but we can track it once it’s out. A— said, It could be halfway across the universe or phasing through a planet. They kept arguing that probably wouldn’t happen [...] They said it was expensive, so twelve ships would go first, with one guiding them out with the beacon frequencies like a tugboat leading a cruise liner, triangulate for Tau Ceti, dump the population, and come back.

I think that AIM's message is the beacon that will call the last of the FTL fleet out of the chrono well. They are "we", they are the first of two parts, because their identity is the person they were before coming the Messenger, and the ships that still haven't oscillated back into three-dimensional space yet, because they are under AIM's personal guardianship/intimately tied to possession of her body.

NtN, John 5:4

I think the only reason I haven’t done it already is that I can’t bear the idea that I wouldn’t be able to touch them—that they’d still be out there …

I think Jod has been at this for so long because he is waiting for an event that could literally take an infinite amount of time to occur. He hasn't killed the entire colonized population yet because he wants something out of them, and it doesn't seem to be labour or devotion or even thanergy.

I think he's looking for the fleet's beacon, in a way that's like lighting a grassfire to flush animals out of hiding and deprive them of shelter. I think he's constantly killing planets and relocating and resettling populations before funnelling them together again, like a distillery trying to heat and separate different liquids as they move from flask to flask, because he wants to finally decant the key to the last ships that escaped him.

#lis's tlt theories #the locked tomb spoilers #the locked tomb #ntn spoilers #gtn spoilers #htn spoilers

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im-just-a-mississippi-girl · 1 year

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Stolen Sweater

Pairing: Opie Winston x female!reader

Category: Fluff

Word count: 700

Summary: You get cold at home and find warmth in one of Opie’s sweaters. When Opie returns from a quick run, his heart melts finding you in his sweater.

Warnings: None

A/N: This is Day 4 of the Season of Fluff 2023 prompt list that @katries created with the help of @mrsmatt

Masterlist

Taglist

Winter in Charming was one of those things that you had a love/hate relationship with. You loved being all snuggled up in the covers with a hot drink watching your favorite winter movie, you especially loved being wrapped in Opie’s arms under a blanket on the couch. However, you hated being out in the cold and you hated when Opie had to be out in the cold as well.

This was one of those times.

The club had to make a run to Stockton to work out some kind of trade deal from what you understood. When Opie left, you made sure he was wrapped up in a thick jacket and that his warmest beanie covered his head and ears. He gave you a loving kiss and an ‘I love you’ before mounting his bike and heading off to meet the guys at the clubhouse.

You watched him and once he was out of sight, you realized just how cold it was outside. Shivering, you re-entered your home and made a beeline to the master bedroom, specifically to Opie’s side of the closet. You dug through his shirts until you found what you were looking for — your favorite sweater of his. The second you slipped it over your head, you were instantly welcomed with warmth and comfort. His cologne still lingered on the sweater from the last time he had worn it despite having been washed, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

With Opie on the road and the kids in school, you decided to take some time to warm yourself up before running your errands and meeting Tara for lunch. You made yourself a hot chocolate with marshmallows piled high and curled up on the couch. If only I could stay here all day.

It was as if the universe heard your thought. Your phone began ringing, checking the caller ID you see it’s Tara. You answered and she informed you that she couldn’t meet for lunch today due to being swamped with surgeries all day long. Before ending the call, the two of you made plans for next week.

As much as you didn’t want to get up and run your errands, you knew you had to, unfortunately food wasn’t going to magically appear in the fridge. You let out a sigh and headed out the door with your purse and keys in hand.

Once the errands had been completed, you returned home and put away your groceries. After that you took your seat back on the couch, where you stayed until you heard the familiar rumble of Opie’s motorcycle. You heard the jingle of keys and the lock turning, the door opened revealing your gentle giant of a man entering your shared home. “Welcome back!” You beamed, jumping up from the couch and pulling him into a kiss which he happily reciprocated. “Thank God you’re back! I was so bored without you.” You spoke dramatically, eliciting a laugh from Opie which in turn had you laughing too. You loved hearing his laugh, it was so contagious and music to your ears. That laugh and his bright smile instantly made any bad day better.

“Luckily for you, it was a quick and easy trip.” He stepped back from you and studied what you were wearing. Opie had this feeling that something was different but he didn’t know what it was until he looked you over. “Is that my sweater?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. He knew it was but he wanted you to admit it.

“Nooooo…?” You answered, playfully nervous with a matching facial expression. You knew he didn’t care, in fact, he loved seeing you in his clothes. They way you drowned in them was something he found so adorable.

“I leave for half the day and come back to my girl in a stolen sweater from my side of the closet. Unbelievable!” Opie returned the playful teasing. “I’ll just have to steal something from you in return.” A mischievous smirk crept upon his face. The next thing you knew his lips were on yours. A stolen kiss. If this was always the outcome of stealing his clothes, then you’d never stop.

General Taglist: @kmc1989

Opie Winston Taglist: @kmc1989

#season of fluff 2023 #opie winston #opie winston x reader #opie winston imagine #opie winston fanfiction #sons of anarchy #soa #sons of anarchy imagine #soa imagine #sons of anarchy fanfiction #soa fanfic

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vanfleeter · 9 months

Text

Black Smoke: Chapter 4 - Carpe Noctem

Characters: Jake x Fem!Reader Warnings: Fluff. Smut. Minors DNI. Fingering. Oral (fem. receiving). Unprotected penetrative sex (always remember to be protected). Author's Note: Back again with another steamy installment of photographer!Jake. Big thanks to @losfacedevil for the encouragement on this one.

Black Smoke Master List

“Is the blindfold really necessary?” You say as Jake helps you out of the car.

His gallery is finally finished after what felt like years, which really was only six months. He’s been putting in the hours of helping renovate the building while simultaneously completing shoots at the studio which left little time for you. Which you didn’t mind because when he did have time for you, it was only about you. He gave his undivided attention. And tonight is one of those nights. The grand opening of his gallery is finally here and he is giving you the first look before it’s filled with people and loud music.

“I want you to be surprised.” He says. You can hear the jingle of keys and the turn of a lock. His hand grabs hold of yours and he guides up the few steps and into the new space. “Okay.. Are you ready?” He asks.

“Yes,” You giggle. “I want to see!”

He unties the blindfold and pulls it away from your eyes. He watches as your jaw slowly falls open making him chuckle. “I take it you like it?”

You nod your head and spin slowly on your heels as you take in the new look of the place. Brick walls, with accented black pillars. A few walls were raised in various spots around the room to give the element of different areas. Small spotlights hang from the ceiling accompanied by a couple fans that are currently spinning slowly. Photos are already hung on the walls. Some from Africa, one of Sam’s engagement photos. A few from Jake’s trip to Costa Rica a few months ago. All of his work was on complete display.

You feel him reach for your hand and pull you through the gallery and around the maze-like walls. “I have one piece left that needs to be hung.” He says. “I was debating whether I wanted to show it or even sell it. I didn’t like the idea of having my girl hanging on the wall in some stranger’s living room.”

He pulls you into the back room and walks over to a large canvas, primarily covered by a black sheet. He carefully pulls the sheet away and reveals the photo he had taken of you in bed in Africa. Half your body is bare and exposed while the other half is hidden beneath the bed sheets.

“Wow..” Was all you could manage to say as you stare at the life size printing of you.

“Show it off.” You say as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Show me off.. Sell it. Because no matter what..” You press your lips to his neck and leave open mouth kisses along his veins. “You get me at the end of tonight.. And every night.” You tug on his hips, pulling him against your body. You can feel his hardening cock pressed against your torso.

“Are you sure?” He asks. “Because I'd be more than happy with only the cheetah photo being on display.”

You nod your head and press your lips to his. He groans against you and crouches down to pick you up and rest you on his waist. He carries you over to the table as you work hastily at unbuttoning his shirt and yanking it out from inside his pants. He sets you down on the table and pushes your dress up your thighs and to your waist before dragging down your lace underwear. He glides his fingers your folds, slowly and at a teasing pace. Your back arches against his body and your head falls backwards.

“Uh uh uh..” He hums as he lifts your head back up. “I want to see your pretty eyes as I fuck you with my fingers.” He captures your lips in a kiss as he pushes his index finger and middle finger past your folds. A breathy moan escapes from you as you clutch tightly to the waistband of his pants. His fingers pump mercilessly in and out of you as he holds your upright with his other hand. His eyes not once lose contact with yours. “Does this feel good?” You moan in response and he chuckles. “I love this pussy so much..” He curls his fingers inside of you causing a high pitched moan to fall from your lips and fill the room. “She’s so warm and feels so good.” He feels your walls clench around his fingers and he smirks, looking at you from beneath hooded eyelids. He continues the fast pumping of his fingers bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm.

Finally, that imaginary rubber band snaps within and that warm and intoxicating feeling washes you. You feel the cool wood of the table beneath your back as he gently lays you back before dropping to his knees between your legs. The warmth of his tongue swipes through your center as he licks up your release. His fingers are dug into the flesh of your outer thigh as his thumbs press circles near your pelvis.

When your high slowly goes away, he backs away and stands back up to his feet. He pulls out a handkerchief from the breast pocket of his suit jacket and uses it to wipe his face off before folding it and using it to clean you up. He sits you back up and helps you back on your feet before guiding your legs through the holes of your underwear and pulling them back up your legs.

He pulls you in for a gentle kiss and tilts your head just slightly backwards. “I’ll find someone to hang the photo.” He says.

The bells jingle out front indicating someone’s arrival. “Jake?” A male’s voice call. “Brother, where are you?”

“In the back!” Jake calls out. “We’ll be right out!”

“We? I don’t even want to know.”

Jake rolls his eyes and makes you giggle. “Come on.”

He takes your hand and leads you back through the gallery and towards the front where Josh stands in front of the elephant calf photo he captured in Africa. He turns around to face the two of you. A wide smile evident on his face.

“Beyond proud of you, Jacob.” Josh says as he claps his hand on Jake’s shoulder.

“Thank you.”

“Tonight is going to be amazing. I’ve already heard this event is completely sold out.”

“Don’t remind me.” Jake sighs.

“Oh don’t tell me you’re nervous,” Josh says. “Come on now, remember what I used to tell you before we’d hit the stage?” Jake nods his head and Josh rests his hand again on Jake’s shoulder. “It’s all going to be great. All you gotta do is stand here and look pretty,” He chuckles. “Although I’m pretty sure Y/N here has got you beat.”

Jake looks over to you and leans slightly to kiss your temple. “Takes a bit of pressure off of me then,” He says.

“Oh hush..” You say playfully pushing him.

–

As the night progresses and the place gets filled with a lot of people, you find yourself retreating towards the back and dodging servers as they come out with trays filled yet again with hors-d’œuvres and champagne glasses filled to the brim. Between the loud music and the sea of people, it was beginning to feel a little overwhelming and you needed some air to relax.

And seems like you aren't the only one hiding out from the party. Jake is seated on a couple crates that are stacked up against the wall in the stock room and he’s cracking up a bottle of beer.

“Hiding out are we?” You say.

He lifts his head before scoffing and taking a long drink of the beer. “I wasn’t anticipating so many people,” He says. “There’s a shit ton of people that showed up, most of whom Josh invited.”

“Aw, he’s just being a supportive brother.” You say as you stand behind him and rub your hands over his shoulders.

“Which is great but damn.. I felt claustrophobic out there.”

“You are a little tense.” You say. “Want me to make you feel a little better?”

“And what do you have in mind?”

You walk around to stand in front of him. You grab his hand and stand him up before pulling him to the back office. “Sit..” You say, guiding him into the desk chair. He slumps down and slowly relaxes his body. You walk away to lock the door and come back to rest yourself on his lap. “Soo.. About you being on stage..” You say as your arms around his neck and his hands find their place on your ass. “Were you a stripper?”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Not even close..”

“Oh.. Darn.. You would have been a good one..” You trace your finger down the exposed skin of his chest until you reach the waistband of his pants. “I love watching you strip..” You unbutton the rest of his shirt as you lean over to place a kiss on his chest. Unbuttoning his pants, you drag the zipper down and pull him free.

“Baby..” He says as he reaches for your hands. “This chair is pretty old.. I don’t think it can withstand the trauma it is going to endure.”

You giggle and he picks you up and lays you across his desk, pushing nearly everything onto the floor. Just like earlier in the day, he pushes your dress up to your hips and pulls your underwear down your legs. He lines himself up with your entrance and teases it a little, which only makes him whimper himself.

“Fuck, you’re so wet already.” He says as he slowly pushes himself inside of you. He pushes so deep until he completely bottoms out.

“What if I told you that I’ve been wet like this all night?” You say with a smirk. “Might be naughty of me to admit that I’ve been secretly hoping you would just take me right there in the middle of the room. Let everyone watch.”

“I almost did..” He admits. He begins to rock his hips in slow and languid movements as he holds your firmly within his hands. “I knew I should have made you change your dress.”

“Oh but I thought… Fuck, Jake..” You grab hold of both lapels of his suit jacket and pull him down on top of you. “I thought red was your favorite color on me?”

You yelp loudly as he rams himself roughly and deeply into you. “It is, love.” His breathing grows increasingly rapid as he picks up his speed, pounding so ruthlessly into you. “But tonight… It's about me… But… All eyes.. Fuck.. Have been… On you.” He quickly pulls out of you and drags you off the desk before shoving you into the wall with your ass facing him. He readjusts behind you and pushes right back inside. “I’ve had a couple men ask about you and why you seem to be everywhere…”

“And what did you tell them?”

“That you’re my girlfriend.. And my muse..” He scoffs and pulls out before turning you around. “I think a couple of them were jealous.. But who wouldn’t be? I picked the most beautiful woman..” He nudges your legs apart to stand in between before hoisting you up on his waist and pressing your back against the wall. He thrusts back up into you. His climax is coming soon but he wants you to finish first so he holds back for as long as he can. He feels you clenching around him just a second later. “Come on baby.. Cover me with your sweetness..”

Your high takes over your body and you find yourself gripping his hair tightly in your grasp. He continues to thrust in you until his own release spills out. His chest heaves and his warm breath covers the skin of your chest. Soon he pulls out of you and sets you down carefully in the chair. He retrieves your underwear and helps you put them back on.

A knock comes on the door and Jake quickly fixes his clothes, tucking in his shirt and straightening the color and sliding his jacket back on. He cracks the door open just enough that it’s only him that the person on the other side sees.

“Josh..”

“Can you please keep your dick inside your pants for more than five minutes?” Josh responds. “You need to come back here.”

“Give me like two minutes.”

“No, now.” Josh demands. “Come on, I have this guy that is highly interested in your portrait of Y/N.”

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