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archangeldyke-all · 1 month ago

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i had a crazy thought–imagine sevika's wife saying something that annoys/peeves her just a tiny bit and ceo!sevika doing the most over the top thing the next second.

imagine they live in a huge expensive modern penthouse and sevika's wife says "how come we live in the same house but we don't see each other?" and on the next day sevika is already taking her around to go see houses for sale 😭😭

or when her wife trips over the huge glass coffee table in the middle of the living room, and it's gone in the next hour and replaced by a smaller, cuter coffee table

i just wanna see sevika simping for her wife pls im begging i think she's so so cute 😭😭😭 like a grizzly bear 😭😭😭

this is like the epitome of ceo sevika i love her so fucking much

men and minors dni

you shouldn't be surprised.

this has been happening long before you and sevika were even dating, back when you were just assistant.

you can still remember the first time sevika did this to you. you ran into the office, discombobulated and late, worried that sevika would be upset.

she wasn't upset, though. it was the oppisite. she sighed in relief the moment you walked through the door wrapping you up in a hug. "fuck, i was worried you'd been carjacked on your way here! i can't lose you. not before the board meeting."

you laughed and relaxed in her arms, breathing in her expensive cologne. "sorry. my phone is fucking ancient and can't hold a charge anymore-- it died overnight and my alarm didn't go off."

"hmm." she'd said. at the time, you thought that was it.

then you got home that night, and found three brand new cell phones sitting on your doorstep.

you blinked down at the boxes, confused. a small envelope caught your eye, and you picked it up, flipping it open.

pick your favorite. -s.

the extravagance only grew once you got together.

"ugh, my back is killing me." you complained one morning.

"'s wrong?" sevika asked, a worried look in her eye. you shrug.

"think i pulled something yesterday while restocking the cabinets above the copier." you say.

that night, you pout in confusion as sevika takes the wrong exit off the highway. "where're we going?"

"you'll see."

"awe, sevika, i can't do a date night tonight baby, i feel like shit."

"it's not a date. well, it sorta is... just trust me, okay?" she'd asked. you nodded.

"of course."

sevika pulled the car into a spa parking lot. you frowned. "spatopia? aren't they closed this late?"

"i made a few calls for us." she said with a shrug, kissing you over the center console and then hopping out of the car. she ran around the car, pulling open your door and walking you to the store front.

two hours and two couples' deep tissue massages later; you were both too relaxed to drive home and you had to call an uber. it was one of the nicest gifts of your life.

now that you're married, it's only gotten worse.

you make a passing comment about your couch being stiff, and sevika's taking you furniture shopping that weekend.

you trip over a (incredibly expensive) persian rug in sevika's study more than once and she's rolling it away and buying one that doesn't snag your toes.

you once complained about the lack of legroom in her fucking porsche, so she bought you an suv. she's fucking insane.

and now she's done something truly crazy.

"you bought us a fucking house!?" you squawk. sevika shrugs with a smile. "sevika, we have a house!"

"we have a penthouse. penthouses don't have gardens. you want a garden."

"wh-- i do?!" you ask. sevika laughs.

"yeah, you do. remember? you told me on our first date what your dream house would be. you said something with charm, something you could make your own, something with a yard big enough for a garden and some pets."

the memory is so distant and blurry to you-- at the time you'd mostly just been talking out of your ass and fantasizing. but sevika remembered. because she's incredible.

"y-you're fucking insane." you cry. sevika smiles.

"good or bad?"

"sevika." you break down in tears, wrapping your arms around your wife. she laughs against you, rubbing your back. "y-you can't just buy a house without asking your wife!" you scold. she giggles.

"most people can't-- but we've got the money for it. i could buy you a dozen houses if you wanted."

"no!" you squeak. she laughs. you rip out of her arms to glare up at her. "you have got to stop doing this shit sevika, you're gonna give me a heart attack eventually!"

"you're gonna have a heart attack when you see the main bath in this place." she whispers with a sweet, excited smile. you burst into laughter and pull her in for a kiss. "if you hate it we can just put it back on the market, y'know." she mumbles. you snort.

"well... at least let me see the place first."

sevika grins, big and wide. you shake your head at her, in love and endlessly endeared by her. "i love you. i'd spoil you in any life, but i'm glad in this one i got the money to treat you the way you really deserve." she says.

you sigh dreamily and cup her face. "please tell me there's already a bed in there."

"...yeah, why?" sevika asks. you grin.

"i'm gonna ride you until you're paralyzed from the waist down, baby. c'mon. show me around my new house." you request, tugging sevika into the house by her tie.

sevika follows you with a dopey smile and hearts in her eyes.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel

#sevika #sevika arcane #sevika imagine #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

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star-har · 6 months ago

Text

fading

it’s your birthday.

gojo’s been dreading it.

it had felt like carrying a heavy weight— a boulder that grows in size as the days passed by, until the calendar finally marked what he’s been fearing.

when he wakes up on your morning, he can’t get out of bed. doesn’t see a reason to.

it’s raining, loud and relentless. the drops patter against his windows, almost somber and melancholy and angry— as if the world itself is mourning your loss.

he doesn’t blame it. the world should be mourning, now that its one shining light and been burned out.

it’s late afternoon when he clambers from his bed, bounding to the kitchen to make his usual coffee; he used to make two. yours would be simple— coffee, milk and sugar. a complete contrast to his own, filled with syrups and chocolate and anything sweet his hands could find.

he would cringe in disgust as you sipped at it, wondering just how you drank yours such bitterly.

he only makes one cup now.

with the exception of the morning he’d woken up from a dream with you. he’d sauntered off to make your cup, assuming you were in the bathroom, and it was midday that it had dawned on him— you were only a dream.

your cat, mochi, is curled up on the couch, pawing aimlessly at where you usually loved to sit.

it’s the perfect view, you’d like to say as you scratched mochi’s belly, the sky looks beautiful from here.

she knows what day it is too. gojo had caught her waiting by the door as your birthday lingered nearer, waiting for your nonexistent arrival.

‘she’s not coming back, damn it,’ gojo would mutter as she pawed at the door. but the stubborn cat would return back to her post everyday without fail.

he decides to stand out on the balcony, despite the thundering rain. he’s remembering the way you’d hug his waist from behind and pepper kisses into his skin as you two watched the sun disappear, being replaced by the moon.

he grinds his teeth and throws his coffee on the floor, the glass shattering and scattering.

you’re everywhere— and it’s almost as if it’s amplified today. the one day gojo already feels like he shouldn’t be here. not without you by his side.

he curses and closes the balcony door, sweeping the glass so your cat won’t hurt herself. you’d kill him if she ever did.

he shrugs on his coat and leaves his flat after, stopping by a flower shop that you’d love to visit.

each, and every time, you’d pause by the pretty, pink lilies. with gentle fingers, you would caress their stems and sniff their fragrance— that beautiful smile always staining your mouth.

he sees them today. they’re beautiful, dainty. but the muted pink is replaced by a brighter one, full of life and colour and beauty.

as if they were a reincarnation of you. the love of his life given form again.

he picks them up with agile hands like you’d always do, making his way to the cashier.

the lady at the register seems surprised to see him there. “gojo, dear?” she says, thin lips pursing with a smile. “it’s been so long, sweetie.”

he hadn’t really had the courage to step into this shop when you passed last year— this has been his first time in a very long while.

“i’ve been busy, mrs. murphy.” he says the words softly but can hardly find it in himself to muster up a smile.

she seems to understand because she doesn’t pry and lets gojo leave with no more question. he’s grateful.

he places them in his car with the same gentleness you’d have, and reverses out of the parking lot.

your grave is a knife in his chest. a sharp stab that hurts and is recurring and painful because seeing it makes it so much more real than gojo thought it would.

as if all those months of reaching to your side of the bed to be met with cold emptiness hadn’t been because you were gone to use the washroom or to brew late night tea.

you were gone. you are gone. gojo can’t do anything about it.

he cries. he hasn’t cried since your funeral. he drops to your grave— polished with no rust because he’d paid monument care a hefty price to maintain your resting place. it only makes sense— for your grave to be as beautiful as you.

he places the flowers on the grass, tucking it into the mud so the wind doesn’t carry them away.

his tears mix with the rain, still thrumming down on him hard.

the rain continues as he spends hours there. wordless, quiet, staring with you as the sky turns pink and then dark blue.

he leaves before he can cry again and when he comes home, gojo pads off into your library. he hasn’t been there since you left him, but it’s a sudden urge— like he needs to feel you again in anyway he can.

mochi’s already there, scratching at the door, meows woeful.

he twists the door handle, and with a deep, shuddering breath, pushes in.

flowers. vanilla. love. your smell hugs him so tightly and gojo has never felt so warm. your embrace only tightens as he slips further into your library, fingers tracing shelves as mochi purrs after him, her paws scratching the wooden floorboards.

he stops by your window seat, heart breaking a little as he sees the book you’d been reading before you died. a classic— pride and prejudice.

he drops onto the seat and picks it up, mochi following in his wake. the fat, ginger cat curls up in his lap— he knows mochi is pretending. hoping he’ll give her the same feeling you used to.

in truth, no one can. your presence is one no one can replace nor match.

she meows in his lap, mourning. sad.

“I miss her too, mochi,” gojo says and pats the cat on its head.

the two sit there, long into the night, as gojo reads where you’d left off. you’d do this a lot, have mochi and gojo huddle around you as you read aloud to them.

he wishes he could remember how you sound. your voice had been a comforting melody to his ears, something that never failed to ease gojo’s pain away.

but as the days ticked by, his memory had grown to lose it.

had grown to lose nearly everything about you. your eyes, your smile, your singing. everything.

gojo cries again. he can’t help it. no matter how hard he grinds his teeth or how strong he fists his hands. he doesn’t try to stop the flooding, either. he needs this. needs a good cry to remember you and miss you.

only when mochi has gone to sleep in his lap and gojo reaches the final page to your story, closing his eyes, does he feel it.

a soft brush of wind.

the rain had stopped, being replaced by a humid and quiet night. odd for the wind to be out. but he feels it, nonetheless.

feels a breeze brush past his cheek, wisp through his hair and ruffle mochi’s fur.

he feels you. your warm embrace, your soft touch. and everything in gojo’s body calms. his thoughts quieten, his heart thrums steadily, his tears dry.

it’s you— he knows it. he’s never believed in an afterlife or anything alike it, but you could make him believe in everything and anything.

it’s you. your love, your touch, your kiss.

you engulf him with a hug that feels so natural and beautiful and gojo finds that this is peace. this is what he lives for— remnants of you and your love lingering in unexpected places and unforeseen ways.

you were always like that, in a sense. unpredictable and so, so peaceful.

gojo falls asleep soon, to the hum of your love and your whisper on the wind. and he finds it’s the best sleep he’s had in a while.

———

did I cry 10 times while writing this? yes. I hate angst. but oh how I loooooveee it.

I can never bring myself to right angst because I always end up making the ending a happy one but today I sat down and was like I need a good cry and I threw up this.

i hope it made u sad as much as it made me sad… <3

kisses and lots of love,

har xx

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rose24207 · 26 days ago

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Mafia lando smut where reader was mad at him from an argument the other day, so she spends heaps of money on his bank account. He doesn’t find out till the bank calls to make sure it wasn’t fraud. And he punishes her

Stress Shopping

Summary: After a heated argument, you storm off on a stress-shopping spree with Lando's card, prompting a call from his bank, but the fight ends in heartfelt apologies and a reminder of his love for you.

Genre: Mafia!Lando, angst, fluff

TW: arguing, spending way too much money

A/N: loved the idea but I changed it a little! Hope you don’t mind! English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

The sound of the door slamming reverberates through the mansion, shaking the antique fixtures on the walls. You stomp into the grand foyer, your heels clicking sharply against the marble floors, your anger palpable in the air. Lando's sharp voice follows you, his British accent more clipped than usual.

"Don't you dare walk away from me, love!" he barks, his footsteps quick behind yours.

You spin on your heel to face him, eyes blazing with fury. "What do you want me to do, Lando? Stand there and listen while you talk to me like I’m one of your employees? Like I’m beneath you?"

His jaw tightens, the muscles working as he clenches his teeth. He’s wearing that infuriatingly expensive suit you helped him pick out, and right now, you’d love nothing more than to rip it off him—not in the fun way. "I don’t treat you like my employees," he growls. "But I am in charge, and you seem to forget that sometimes."

You laugh bitterly, crossing your arms. "Oh, how could I forget? You love reminding me every chance you get."

Lando rakes a hand through his perfectly styled hair, messing it up slightly. Normally, the sight would make your heart soften, but right now, it only fuels your fire. "You’re being unreasonable," he snaps. "We had an agreement—"

"No, you had an agreement!" you interrupt, your voice rising. "I never agreed to this ridiculous, controlling nonsense, Lando."

His amber eyes flash dangerously. "Watch it," he warns, his voice low now, like a storm about to break. "You’re pushing me, and you know I don’t like being pushed."

But you’re too far gone to care. "And I don’t like being treated like some trophy wife who needs to follow orders. I’m done with this conversation."

Without waiting for his response, you grab your purse from the console table and march toward the front door. His voice chases after you. "Where are you going?"

"Out," you snap. "Don’t wait up."

Before he can stop you, you’re out the door, the evening air cool against your flushed skin.

The mall is your sanctuary. Under the glow of bright lights and the hum of happy chatter, you lose yourself in racks of designer clothing, rows of shoes, and glass cases of sparkling jewelry. Lando's black card burns a comforting weight in your purse, and tonight, you intend to make full use of it.

You start at Chanel, swiping the card for a pair of heels and a matching bag without so much as glancing at the price tag. Next is Cartier, where a sleek watch catches your eye. After that, you make your way to Dior, where a silk gown feels like the perfect antidote to your frustration.

Each purchase soothes the ache in your chest, replacing anger with satisfaction. By the time you leave the mall, your arms are laden with bags, and the backseat of your car is filled to the brim with boxes and tissue paper.

But your phone buzzes just as you’re pulling out of the parking lot. You glance at the screen and see Lando’s name flashing. You don’t answer.

Back at the mansion, Lando is pacing his study, his phone pressed to his ear. The man on the other end clears his throat nervously before speaking. "Mr. Norris, this is Daniel from Barclays. We’ve noticed some unusual activity on your account and wanted to confirm if your card has been compromised."

Lando pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply. "What kind of activity?" he asks, though he already knows the answer.

"A series of high-value transactions," Daniel replies. "Chanel, Cartier, Dior... altogether totaling a little over seventy thousand pounds. Should we freeze the card?"

Lando smirks despite himself, shaking his head. "No, Daniel," he says, his tone resigned. "It’s just my wife... throwing a tantrum."

There’s a brief silence on the other end. "Ah," Daniel says finally, clearly unsure how to respond. "Very well, sir. Shall we flag the transactions as authorized?"

"Yes," Lando says. "And don’t call again unless it’s life or death."

You return home hours later, your anger dulled by exhaustion and the satisfying sight of your new purchases. You push open the door to the mansion, your arms laden with bags, only to find Lando waiting for you in the foyer. He leans against the staircase, his arms crossed over his chest, his sharp features unreadable.

"Have fun?" he asks, his voice deceptively calm.

You ignore him, stepping past him with your head held high. But before you can make it far, he grabs your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. His grip is firm but not painful, his thumb brushing against your skin.

"Don’t ignore me," he says softly, dangerously.

You whirl around to face him, the fire in your eyes reigniting. "What do you want, Lando? To scold me for spending your money? Go ahead—I’m sure you’ve got plenty of lectures lined up."

He doesn’t rise to the bait, his gaze steady on yours. "It’s not about the money," he says. "You know that."

"Then what is it about?" you demand. "Because I’m tired of fighting with you over every little thing."

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he says nothing. Then, finally, he speaks. "It’s about us," he says. "About you running off every time we argue instead of dealing with it. You think throwing my money around is going to make things better?"

"It made me feel better," you snap, yanking your wrist out of his grip.

"Fine," he says, his voice cold now. "If that’s what you want—things, clothes, jewelry—then take it all. But don’t pretend it’s going to fix what’s wrong between us."

His words hit harder than you’d like to admit. You stare at him, your chest heaving with the effort of holding back tears. "Maybe if you treated me like your wife instead of your possession, we wouldn’t have these problems," you say quietly.

Something flickers in his eyes—guilt, maybe. But he doesn’t respond, and you don’t wait for him to. You turn on your heel and head upstairs, leaving him standing alone in the foyer.

Hours later, you’re sitting in the walk-in closet, surrounded by your purchases. The excitement you felt earlier has faded, leaving behind a hollow ache. You sigh, running your fingers over the soft fabric of the Dior gown, wondering if you went too far.

A knock at the door startles you, and before you can respond, Lando steps inside. He looks tired, his tie loosened and his hair disheveled. In his hands, he’s holding a small box tied with a black ribbon.

"I brought you something," he says, his voice soft.

You raise an eyebrow. "More things? Haven’t I spent enough of your money today?"

He ignores your sarcasm, setting the box down on the bench beside you. "Open it," he says.

Curious despite yourself, you untie the ribbon and lift the lid. Inside is a delicate necklace, a simple gold chain with a tiny heart-shaped pendant. It’s nothing like the flashy pieces you bought earlier, but somehow, it feels more special.

"It’s not to bribe you," he says quickly, as if reading your mind. "I just... I wanted to remind you that I don’t care about the money or the fights. I care about you.“

You look up at him, your heart softening. "You have a funny way of showing it," you say, though your tone lacks its earlier bite.

He kneels in front of you, his hands resting on your knees. "I know," he admits. "I’m not perfect, and I don’t always know how to handle you when you’re upset. But I’m trying, love. I promise I’m trying."

For a long moment, you say nothing, letting his words sink in. Then, finally, you reach out and cup his cheek, your thumb brushing against his stubble. "I’m sorry too," you say. "I shouldn’t have stormed off like that. It wasn’t fair to either of us."

He leans into your touch, closing his eyes briefly. "So... we’re okay?" he asks, his voice tentative.

You smile softly. "We’re okay."

The next morning, you wake up to find Lando already dressed, his tie perfectly knotted and his usual confidence back in place. He leans over to kiss your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin.

"Breakfast is ready downstairs," he says. "And I told the bank not to call me again if you go on another shopping spree."

You laugh, pulling the covers over your head. "Good. Because I might need a few more things."

He chuckles, his hand brushing against your hair. "Just try not to spend the GDP of a small country next time, yeah?"

You peek out from under the covers, grinning. "No promises."

And for the first time in days, everything feels right again.

Thank you for reading!

#lando norris #lando x reader #lando imagine #lando x you #fluff #angst #mafia!lando #f1 #f1 mafia au #mafia #formula 1 #formula one #rich life #money

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demibats · 7 months ago

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been thinking about richbuisnessman!eddie and how he would spoil you with gifts and jewels and different types of jewelry and clothes and accessories until one day he decides to get you an anklet with his initials on it and you surprise him one day buy putting on the lingerie he bought you a few weeks ago and putting the anklet on and everytime he hears it jingle while he’s thrusting into you he gets harder and rougher until youre both wore out 🤭🤭been thinking about doing a short fic on this but i would die to see your spin on it 👻👻

MY MIND IS REELING HOLY HELL. so i def took some creative liberties with this one because i wanted to stay true to eddie’s character, so in regards to him being a rich business man, i changed it just a bit 🤭 this has also been sitting in my ask box for probably near a year, but here ya go!!! changed it juuuuust slightly bc i believe that eddie munson is an absolute munch and eats pussy for his won pleasure. enjoy!

content warnings; smut (if you're under 18, do not interact!), fem terms and anatomy used, oral (f!receiving), eddie eating pussy because he loooooves it (and yes this needs it own tag), slight dom/sub dynamics, use of 'sir' as an honorific toward eddie

Eddie Munson is a modest man. With a wallet and dick that fat, you're surprised. Most men would be shouting from the rooftops of their penthouses that they're loaded, throwing hundreds at the dozen strippers they order every other friday night, just because they can.

But Eddie Munson isn't like that at all.

He doesn't live in some monstrous mansion or picturesque penthouse, he doesn't own six cars or a private jet. He isn't the kind of man to have a different girl in his bed every night, ones that really are only interested in him for his money. He's always been a gentleman and shot them down politely, but still met with a drink being thrown in his face or some uncalled for insult.

When you met him, he didn't give any indication that he had money. He wore a faded Dio shirt tucked into a pair of black slacks and a matching suit jacket. His thick fingers had scuffed silver rings, one for almost each of them. He had the most unruly curls you'd ever seen on a man. He flashed you a smile from your spot behind the bar, a toothpick hanging from the side of his mouth as he raised his glass in your direction, the men around him making comments about his boldness. From that moment forward, you were mesmerized.

The most difficult part about being romantically involved with him, was the gifts you'd receive from him. Eddie was very straight-foward with his wealth, he told you on your first date, to the exact same bar you tended. He told you he had toured with local bands from his hometown as an instrument and audio visual engineer. He made calls to different tour and musician managers to see if he would be able join their road crew. After a few years of life on the road, he managed to open up his own music shop. That's when the big bucks started flowing.

Despite knowing that he has more than enough money to spoil you with, you're still bashful and hesitant about accepting them. Hell, when he asked you to move in with him, you declined it almost immediately, not wanting to seem like you were financially leaning on him in any way. Even after you began living together, you maintained a 40-hour work week at the bar for some time.

The first gift, more like gifts, were beautiful bouquets of flowers he'd bring home to you. You'd be at home, curled up into the couch cushions with a paperback folded in your hands and in comes your darling boyfriend, ringed fingers curled around the green stems of another bouquet. Every Monday, he comes home from work with a fresh bouquet to replace your old ones. "To cure your Monday Blues, dollface," he'd say.

Then came the clothes. Every weekend he offered to take you shopping, saying something along the lines of, "Maybe we'll find something from one of those magazines you seem to actually read." Within the first month of living together, your portion of your shared closet took up the most space, at least a 3/4 ratio.

You feel beyond special, never taking his gifts for granted, especially since you're more than aware he knows he doesn't have to. He always tries to play it off, explaining how gift giving is just his love language. You might actually believe him, considering he gets his friends outrageous gifts as well, but it's different with you. There's a dark glimmer in his eyes when you tear back the paper encasing your newest present from your beloved.

Behind a deep maroon wrapping paper, lies a small white box. The name across the top of the box in golden script is of a jewelry shop you recognize. And it's not a cheap shop either. Lifting the lid off the box, your eyes flick up to meet Eddie, who's smirking, arms folded over his chest while a hand cradles his chin.

Once the gift has been revealed, a small gasp escapes from parted lips. It's a dainty anklet, sterling silver. As you lift the jewelry up by careful fingers, you notice the hanging letters. A less-than-subtle 'EM' charm hanging from it. It's also in a script font, making the 'E' look like a backwards '3'. A small gemstone sets between the initials, a beautiful cut ruby.

To say it's beautiful is an understatement. It's gorgeous, only something that Eddie Munson himself would think to be a perfect fit for his sweetheart. "Whaddya think?" He asks, though he already knows how you feel, more than confident at his gift-giving abilities.

"Eds, I love it. It's perfect, thank you," you chide, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips as another form of 'thank you.'

It isn't until Eddie decides that the two of you are going on vacation in Santorini that you ever really wear it. It's too ornate for every day wear, and a small part of you fears that it'll somehow slip or snap off and you'll have lost it.

Laid out on a reclining beach chair, you're soaking up the midday Grecian sun, shades perched atop the bridge of your nose and a mimosa in hand. The rental Eddie snagged for your two-week excursion was straight from a resort advertisement. The modern advancements made were stunning, but the architecture was true the city. You'd never imagined being sprawled out in front of a heated pool overlooking the beautiful seaside.

Aside from one of the many bikinis you packed for the trip and your sunglasses, you only had on the dainty anklet purchased by your lover. It settled against your skin and caught the sun's rays, making it shine.

"Look at you," you hear Eddie from over your shoulder. You hadn't heard him come outside, but the soft breath against the side of your neck made you jump, "spoiled rotten."

You can't help but snicker at his comment. He had made you this way with his expensive gifts, how could he judge? You decide to lean into this role of the 'spoiled rotten brat' he so lovingly teased you with, "What could you possibly want that's more important than me enjoying the sun?"

He knows better than to take the comment seriously, a small smirk tugging at his lips as he stands up from his crouched position, stepping to stand in front of the sun, "Wanna run that by me again, sweetheart?"

You see him now, in all his glory. Long curls pulled back into a bun, strands creeping out from either movement or humidity, you aren't sure. A pair of black swim trunks hang off his hips and a Metallica muscle tank has been pulled over his tattooed torso, the ink etched into his arms still exposed. Good enough to eat.

Pushing your shades up on top of your head, you roll eyes at him once they're visible, "Ugh, you're blocking the sun, Eddie."

The metalhead raises his hands in defeat, a small smile on his features as he steps to the side, allowing the sun to once again be soaked up into your pores, "Alright, alright. No need to get feisty. Come inside for a while, I made lunch."

Even though you felt assured you'd won whatever playful battle was at hand, you weren't sure you were ready to drop the facade. Though, you were getting hungry, and if Eddie cooked? Your mouth watered at the thought.

"Fine. But because I'm hungry, not because you asked." You taunt as you swing your legs off the chair's recline, sliding your feet into your sandals.

Following him inside, he opens the sliding glass door for you, like the perfect gentleman he's always been, before following you through the threshold, sliding it shut behind him.

As the two of you enter the kitchen, your eyes land on the empty stove and countertops, eyebrows knit together in confusion, "Eddie, you said you-"

You're cut off by Eddie's fingers digging into your hip, backing you up against the marble counter top. Lifting your gaze up to his, the breath is nearly sucked out of you at his imposing stance in front of you, "I might've told a white lie," he mumbles, eyes glued to where his hand meets your flesh. His fingers slide underneath the thin band to your bottoms before allowing it to snap against your skin, "but then again, your attitude needs an adjustment."

Even with his tone bordering on mean, he leans in and catches your lips in a passionate kiss, taking his time. He can taste the freshly squeezed orange juice on your tongue. A firm, tattooed hand stays at your hip, holding you in place as your arms slink around his neck. With both his kiss and touch still relatively gentle, the thoughts that you're able to process are that he'll remain stern with you, but not unreasonable.

The brunette brings his kiss to your neck, down to your collarbone, traveling lower and lower until he reaches your navel. Glossy brown orbs lock onto yours as he slides the bottoms of your swimsuit down your legs.

"Don't cum until I say so," he states, his tone brokering no room for argument, "Got it?"

You nod, hands already white-knuckling against the edge of the counter, "yes..."

"Yes what?" he questions as he brings your ankles out of the fabric, eye catching that gorgeous anklet.

"Yes sir," you breathe, head lulling back, shoulders slumping already at the thought of his face buried between your thighs.

He carefully brings your thigh over his shoulder, one hand gripping the flesh there while the other has a determined hold on your opposite hip. Before another word can be passed between the two of you, his face is pressed to your core, tongue flattening out to lick a slow stripe between your folds. Although he's taking his time, listening intently to every sound you make, no matter how quiet, he's relentless. Tongue dipping into your weeping hole, his nose catching on your clit every so often. He's tuned in with your body, it's subtle movements, the noises you make and what the different sounds mean. You couldn't derail his focus if you tried.

Your fingers weave through his umber tresses even with it being tied back with an elastic, "Oh fuck..."

He devours you, laps at the liquid arousal trickling out, the noises caused by his actions utterly obscene. Wet, slurping and sucking noises mixed with your combined moans were a perfect melody to him. Something he'd listen to every day in his headphones, on repeat, without pausing. He shifts his eyes up, his gaze burning the image of your shallow breath matched with the swift rise and fall of your chest to memory.

The grip you have on his hair only spurs him on, especially when you tighten it. Calloused hands drag down your thighs, keeping them settled at both sides of his head like a pair of noise-cancelling headphones. He feels the soft bite of cold metal against his back, then remembers the anklet. Popping off of your dripping cunt, his chin glistening in your arousal, he brings his your thigh off of his shoulder and brings his hand down to your ankle, fingers delicately tracing over the thin metal chain.

You offer a soft whimper at the loss of contact, half-lidded eyes locked onto his figure, "Wha.. Why'd you stop?"

Cocking his head to the side, he taps the pad of his index finger against the jewelry dangling off your ankle, "Just... admiring the leash you so willingly wear." He coos, the words filled with lust.

He dives back in, bringing both thighs onto his shoulders, face snugly between them. He doesn't relent until you're arching your back, shuddering with every flick of his tongue. Even then, he's still not satisfied, and neither of you. You're on the cusp of your orgasm, trying to let Eddie know, but he just gives three gentle taps to your hip and a disapproving grunt. His words ring in your ears, Don't cum until I say so ... Got it?

Just as you're sure you can't hold out on him any longer, he mumbles 'you can cum, sweetheart,' against your mound, then goes right back to his assault on your clit. You spasm, thighs clenched around his head to the point you're sure he can't breathe, orgasm tearing through your body like a ripcord. He slowly brings the aggressive flicks of his tongue to a stop once you're whimpering, out of breath, sensitivity having taken a strong hold on you.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, staying knelt between your legs as you catch your breath and return from the astral plane and back into your body. Though, he can't help but sneak glances at the silver anklet, and the 'EM" charm hanging off of it.

thank you for reading xx.

#꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ e. munson #eddie munson smut #demi's asks #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader smut

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aimautoglass · 2 months ago

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betterbodyautocollision · 2 months ago

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mixtape-0325 · 1 year ago

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Sacrifice 🕸️

Stray Kids; Hwang Hyunjin x F. Reader (21+)

Word count: 2.2k

Content: HardDom!Hyunjin, Sub!Reader, lip biting (+ blood mention), consensual non-consent (stalker roleplay), car sex, bondage tape, cum eating (by hyunjin), deepthroating, hair-pulling, name calling, scratching, breeding, some aftercare/comfort.

Warning: this fic contains content some readers may find upsetting or triggering, take care of yourself!

Taps.

They can be such various things.

In a quiet house the water leaking down the shower head onto the bathroom floor, bit by bit, drop after drop. On an autumn night, acorns that fall from the trees outside your home, awaiting you on the morning when the wind has settled. But right now, all you can hear are the taps of raindrops on your windscreen, covering the glass, only to be wiped away soon after like they had never existed in the first place.

There are not many things that go beyond a late-night drive, clearing your head and listening to your favourite songs. There had always been a reaction when a certain guy’s voice entered your car through the speaker, rather than giving you butterflies he gave you goosebumps, with teeth eager to grab onto your bottom lip to play with. You could just imagine so clearly how he would sound whispering into your ear, how he would touch your thighs like they’d be his – all from the verses he sang passionately.

Songs replaced others in what seemed like seconds, time passed quickly on nights like these. However, when the wind picked up equally as much as the rain, to the point you could almost not see clearly anymore you snapped back into reality.

You were already quite far from home, knowing you had no where else to be in the morning and you could enjoy your alone time as much as you needed. You debated your choices for a little while, but soon you realise the best choice was to stop at the closest gas station.

When you parked your car on the side, you told yourself to see this all in a positive light, that you could just get a hot drink and some snacks inside. By the time you’d be back the wave of terrifying weather would soon to have passed.

Right?

You took a deep breath, hands fidgeting with the zipper of your black hoodie to at least close it before getting ready to run out of the car. You took in the sounds of the rain. Despite it sounding rather aggressive at this point, it was still calming to know you were safe and warm inside. Another deep breath followed, before you opened the car door and ran inside the gas station shop as quickly as you could. Puddles splashed from underneath your feet, and taps hit your clothes one after the other. You exhaled deeply as you felt a rush of warm air, a slight giggle appearing as you made it safely back inside a safe shelter.

“Good evening”.

You were greeted by one of the two staff members, who you gave a shy smile in return. You were in no particular rush browsing through the selections of snacks, but were happy to have found two bags that you couldn’t wait to dig into. You walked towards the checkout and gave the other staff member a smile as you placed your picks onto the counter, who seconds later were neatly placed in a bag for you to hold.

“Thank you”

You were glad you were able to push these words out of yourself at the very least, before walking back to the automatic door. You stayed there for a little while, looking at the rain still violently splashing itself down on two other cars in the parking lot – which must have been the staffs.

‘’Excuse me, is there a bathroom I could use near here?”

You turned your head back into the store as a staff from the storage room shouted to you.

“It’s outside, left, around the corner!"

“Thank you!”

You braced yourself for another run in the rain to the side of the shop. Whilst not the most convenient with a shopping bag in one hand, and a hot drink in the other, there was no harm in a few more drops on your already damp hoodie.

The door to the bathroom was heavy, and the lights were barely working as they flashed in an attempt to stay alive. As you stood in front of the mirror, you wondered to yourself if you had heard the door close at all – only to walk back and give it another tug to close it all the way.

I deep breath filled the room, your shoulders relaxing as you looked at yourself in the mirror. You reached for the tap, twisting it open to catch some water in your palms to splash onto your face. It was quite ironic really, seeing as the rain outside splashing onto you was something you wanted to avoid. You pulled out one of the paper towels to gently dry your face before throwing the crumbled paper away.

Your arm was still only half-way back to your body as you felt a figure hover over your back.

“Don’t move”

Your body froze, muscles tightened as the voice echoed through the room, not really making out any characteristics from the surprise of it all. His hand wrapped around you from behind, resting on your jaw with his fingers playfully over your lips.

“Miss me?”

He whispered to you, followed by a deep hum as his index finger brushed over your lips. It’s then where you realise who it is, and your body relaxed. However, your heart did not, pounding into your chest at all, the thrill of adrenaline rushing through your veins.

“How did you-“,

Hyunjin cut you off as he covered the entirely of your mouth with his hand for just a split second. He let himself press against you from behind, biting his lip so hard he could taste drops of his own blood. His free hand moved to your hip, holding it tightly to keep you in place.

“Always know how to find you, sweetheart…you’re so…”

“Predictable…”

You gulped at his confidence, but you couldn't deny that realising that he had followed you beyond your own knowledge was scary – it was all the wrong kind of scary, but it intrigued you too. His hand on your hip soon teased under your hoodie, a warm large hand brushing over your tummy, scratching over the skin whenever he moved to a different spot.

“Don’t”

You tried to get away as his hand moved towards you bra, unsuccessfully pushing him off only for him to grab onto you harsher. Hyunjin’s hand wrapped around your throat, sqeezing to his hearts content equally as hard as the way he was groping your front.

“You’re wearing lace only to say ‘don't'"

"oh sweetie, so silly”

You could feel Hyunjin's cock already pressing to the material of his sweatpants. His hips were unsteady as he started rubbing himself against you, his hand continuing to leave bruises on your front.

"S-stop..."

Your voice only came out in a shaky whisper of embarrassment by the sheer throbbing between your legs despite the situation. And with that, he snapped completely.

Hyunjin turned you around to face him, your back hitting the cold wall as he stared into your eyes with a dark lust. His hand wrapped itself around your mouth, cutting off part of your air supply a second time, only to press his front against you in desperate attempts to create more friction for his aching cock.

You felt overwhelmed by the deep, needy noises he was making, a conflicting sense of pleasure and dangerous thrill filling your head. You couldn't help but whimper yourself at the rubs against your core.

“Hmm baby...you have to be quiet here, before I really hurt you”.

He let go, and grabbed your wrist to guide you outside, a fast pace to his car was all you could really grasp whilst trying to collect your breathing.

Hyunjin went into the backseat with you, grabbing your wrists to hold out to him as he wrapped them in black tape, likewise to your mouth. His hands helped you out of your sweats, leaving you cold and exposed in his car. Bit by bit, he tapped into your body, using his hands to undress you even through your wiggles and struggles. Hyunjin’s cock was throbbing violently into his boxers, clearly visible as soon as he let his own clothes fall to his ankles to reveal himself to you.

And then he started – dark brown eyes staring into your own as his palm wrapped around his hard, throbbing cock to jerk himself off. His free hand wrapped around your hair, holding you in place to have to watch. You whimpered against the tape, trying to make noises as he pleased himself from beside you.

“Better save that voice, sweetie”

Hyunjin's hand sped up which earned deep grunts out of him, making your own throbbing must worse. You felt embarrassed at how much you were turned on by everything, letting a tear fall to your cheek that pleased him greatly.

“Shhh sweetheart, it’ll be over soon”.

Hyunjin moaned sweetly before he tugged on your hair to bring you closer to him, taking off the tape on your mouth before guiding your lips only inches away from his swollen red lip. With no wasted time, he pushed you down onto his length, his shaft disappearing into your throat completely. His free hand grabbed onto your body, playing with your elevated butt from your position.

“Such a little slut for me”, he teased as he started bobbing you down onto his cock over and over again, tight lips getting him close to his own release with how often you were gagging on him.

“I’d fuck that tight ass of yours too, hear you really scream for me”

Hyunjin's groans filled the car and he had never sounded this raspy and deep, a monster in him truly being released from within him. And just like that, when you hummed around him in response, he pulled your face up to hover over his cock – only to jerk himself the last way for hot drops of cum to land on your face and tongue. It was the biggest load you had ever seen of him, his body spasming with each spurt.

“Hmm...fucking hell, baby”.

A few deep breaths filled the space before he tugged on your hair to bring you to his lips, his tongue lapping at your jaw and lips to taste himself. You couldn't help yourself, pressing your legs together as you saw Hyunjin's own drops of cum now lay on his tongue, swallowed by him before he eargerly attached his lips back to yours.

The kiss only became more heated, and soon, as if you weighed nothing, he helped you onto his lap. His hands continued like earlier to grope you to his hearts content, both of your breathings heavy in response. You almost forgot to struggle against him, but when you saw him become half-hard again just from being close to you you couldn't help yourself to start all over.

"Don't touch me, please", you whimpered once he got to your panties, pushing them to the side to violently rub your clit in an eager attempt to please you. His warm breath continiously hit your neck.

He had fully lost his composure.

"But I still want you, so, fucking, bad..."

He groaned into your neck before biting down onto your skin. With one tug of his hands on your hips, he had you sinking down onto his length. There was no soft start, no getting used to his thickness. Hyunjin used you like you were air, helping you to move up and down at a fast pace that had you losing yourself - and for him to take control.

"That's it, that's my little slut", he teased as he saw you turned into nothing but mush for how good he was making you feel. How much you enjoyed not being able to push him away cause of tied hands.

"Hurts, please"

You moaned your words for him, only fuelling his upward trusts in ways that made you gasp and tightly press your eyebrows together.

"Please"

You begged again before your body took control of you, shaking on top of him as your orgasm washed over you.

"Shit, so fucking tight"

"Gonna breed you baby, have you take me so deep"

Hyunjin couldn't stop talking, his filter completely gone as he came inside of you just as hard as before. Your bodies reached for each other, his arms tightly wrapped around you, holding you in place as you rode out both of your orgasms together.

"I love you, baby"

Hyunjin whispered sweetly as your body continued to jolt, orgasms much longer than his own.

"I got you"

He repeated himself as you slowed, and slowed, and came to a hold in his arms.

"You're okay, baby. I love you"

Hyunjin whispered sweetly, letting you take your time in his arms with a few gentle kisses pressed to your cheeks whenever you made a slight noise.

He rubbed your back with warm hands, making you relax against him. Once your breathing was steady again and your body knew it was completely safe, Hyunjin guided your head to look at him and pressed a gentle, sweet kiss to your lips whilst his thumb caressed your cheek.

"You did so well baby"

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partyanimal167 · 1 year ago

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A Win-Win Situation- Rayleigh x F!Reader

I had to drop a bag at the mechanic two days ago, and to literally keep myself from not crying, I was coming up with a fic idea to make the situation sexier and not depressing 😅 This popped up, and I was just like, 'At least I can finally write for Rayleigh.' I also told my friend, and he supported doing what you needed to do because damn do autoshops scare me.

CW: modern au, black fem reader, age gap, very light dubcon, smut, praise kink, daddy kink, MDNI

You only expected to get the tires rotated. So when the man started talking about parts and labor costs, you were ready for the earth to swallow you up whole.

You were confident about a lot of things. You could do most adulting tasks like clean, organize your bills, plan a trip, etc. But cars...weren't your area of expertise. But you managed for awhile, so you didn't worry too much! You watched videos and knew that there were things you needed to get done to maintain the vehicle.

So you went to get your tires rotated. Easy. Nothing to worry about....until, the guy pointed out that your check engine light was on. He must have seen the way you stiffened and tried to keep your expression calm.

The man gave you a sweet, flirty smile and waved his hand. "Don't worry too much, sweetheart. I'm actually a bit packed today, but an old friend owns a shop on the next street over. He should be able to check it out. Shouldn't cost you much either."

You bit your lip nervously as you rocked a little. "Really?"

"Of course! Tell 'im Shanks sent you. He'll take really good care of you."

~~~

You shyly stepped out of your car in front of the older shop where a radio played throwbacks and a fan blew strongly.

You walked quietly through the open garage door where a person stood under a lifted car with a welder's mask on. "Uh, excuse me" you raised your voice a little since you weren't sure if they'd be able to hear.

The body looked up at you before stepping from under the car and turning to take off the welding hood.

You weren't ready for the kind, sweet older man to beam at you. His glasses were somehow spotless despite the hood. After he wiped his hands on a rag, he pulled his long, gray hair out of its ponytail. "Hi dear, how can I help you today?"

You fidgeted with your hands a little. "Huh, I was just trying to get my tires rotated, but my check engine light is on. The guy, Shanks, said I should come see you." you explained.

The man nodded. "Ah the boy. Yes of course I can help you." he wiped his hairline and sipped his water. "Shame you're out here in this heat. That boyfriend of yours shouldn't be having you out running car errands either."

Your cheeks warmed up, and you scratched one nervously. "I don't have a boyfriend." you softly corrected.

The man handed you a water bottle. "Well that can be fixed--easily." he chuckled. Before you could ask what he met, he held out his hand, and you gave him his keys. "I'm Rayleigh by the way." You nodded and with your own. "Beautiful, what a pleasure."

You stepped to the side as the man drove your car in and took out a little gadget to hook up to your car. You watched a bit confused as he pressed some buttons and frowned at the screen.

The sun continued to beam down, so you were glad you were wearing your short shorts and cropped hoodie, but you weren't expecting to be out alone with just you and the older man. The other shop had a lot of people coming in and out. You wiped your brow and chugged some of your water as you eyed the older man. You didn't feel too nervous though. Rayleigh seemed nice. He was all gentle smiles and had a calm demeanor. Plus, he looked good for his age. You bet he was a real lady killer in his day.

"I'm going to be honest, love. I think one of your catalytic converter is shot. We're going to need to replace it." the man sighed as he closed the door and looked over to you.

You blinked twice. "That's the expensive part, right?"

The man chuckled at your wording and nodded. "I'm afraid so. But don't worry. I won't charge you an arm and a leg." he assured you. You rocked the on your heels a little as you nibbled a little on your lip. "That's what Shanks said..."

"Let's get you out this heat." you entered a small office and sat at the desk. Rayleigh handed you another water bottle before taking off his denim jacket. You nearly choked. This man is jacked. He had on a white tee, but you weren't expecting the way his muscles filled it in. "You okay there?"

You cleared your throat and met a mischievous look. Hopefully, he didn't notice your stares. You nodded. He grinned as he typed away at his computer. "So I need to order the part, but I think including labor we're looking at this amount." he filled out an invoice and circled the total. Rayleigh watched as your body went rigid and he sighed. "I'm sorry sweetheart. I wish it could be less. I-,"

"Oh no, it's fine! You have a business to run of course," you gave a little nervous smile. Rayleigh gave you a once over before that innocent smile was back.

"Come here, princess."

You whipped your head up. "Excuse me?"

Rayleigh pushed away from the desk a little and patted a spot in front of him. "Come sit."

You stood and walked around the desk and sat. You gasped as your hand was taken and a soft kiss was placed on it. "You can't go giving an old man ideas especially with the way you're looking at me." you gasped in response. "We can do a little trade. What do you say? Let's see how many rounds you can last, and I'll make some adjustments." You were surprised by the challenge, but it excited you all the same. The old man seemed experienced. Plus, there was no way he was going to out last you either. It was an easy win-win.

~~~

"Fuck daddy, daddy!" your legs were shaking as the man continued to pump his fingers inside as you sat in his lap. You gripped tightly on his shoulders as you bounced up and down.

Rayleigh grinned meanly at you. "What's wrong, dear? It's only been two so far. I'm trying to be nice here. Can't you give me some more?" The man went back to licking and sucking on your nipples as you moaned and sobbed. Your walls started clenching on his fingers once more and you whined as he put more pressure on your clit with the heel of his palm. "Ah there we go. Good girl, I knew you could do it." He sucked a hickey right below your ear. "You flatter this old man with how you sound. Is it good?"

"Yes!" you groaned as you tipped over that mountain again.

It took you a couple moments to catch your breath, and when you were present again, you realized you were on the desk looking up at the man who didn't even have a hair out of place. That sweet smile was there, but with the three orgasms he just gave you, it was so deceiving. Your face was burning, and you let your eyes trail down to see his member out and proud. It was girthy and hard. You could see the veins that ran down and the streams of precum that had been leaking. You whimpered.

"I wanna suck it, daddy." your eyes glossed over, and your cheeks were shiny with tears.

The man groaned at the sight. He'd have to thank Shanks for sending you over. He shook his head. "Ah ah, no sweetheart. You can do that next time. This is your reward for being so good for me, princess." He lifted your hood and spread some of juices around. "Deep breath now," and he sunk in.

You cried out deliriously. He filled you so well and stretched you more than you expected even with prep. You hooked your legs around his waist and pulled him even closer. Rayleigh chuckled before pushing in further. "Fuck, you feel so good, love. Such a naughty girl just for carrying around this good pussy, shit." the man huffed as he started up a slow but strong rhythm.

Skin slapped against another loudly, and you were drowning it. It was too much yet not enough at the same time. Rayleigh grunted deliciously near your ear and cooed about how pretty you were, how good you felt, how he wanted to keep you around and fill you up. You clenched around him more and more, and he sped up. "I'll give it to you, baby. Good girl wants to get pumped full?"

"Yes, yes! Please, let me- uh uh, let me have it please." You cried out. You moaned as you were kissed deeply and felt your tongues twirled around. "Fuck, fuck! I'm gonna cum, daddy. I'm gonna cum. Fuck, yes!" Your orgasm hit you hard; you saw pure white in your eyes as you crashed and rode that wave into pleasure.

"So good. So good! I'll give it to you princess. Just take it," Rayleigh continued on and huffed loudly, glasses finally falling off. He gripped the back of your thighs as he finished and milked himself.

The two of stay silent for a moment before you squeaked as you felt fingers stuff you full. "Can't waste a drop." Rayleigh winked.

You looked at him completely stunned.

This was certainly not how you thought the day would go...

~~~

*rereads and blushes* God damn....

I hope I did justice to my mans Rayleigh! I'm just gonna indulge in this fantasy to pretend that I didnt have to drop cash on this damn car...

Thanks for reading!

Part Two

#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece x reader #silvers rayleigh #dark king rayleigh #rayleigh x reader #modern au #fem reader #black fem reader #mine #partyanimal167 #one piece rayleigh #one piece smut

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courtingchaos · 2 years ago

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There’s Levels To This

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

A/N: oh my god It’s the beach episode! Dip your toes in kids, the water is fine. This is for my dearest @chestylarouxx who has me yearning on the daily for beach shenanigans with one Edward Munson.

Warnings: Just sex and drinking in the sun.

18+ NSFW No Minors

To say Eddie wasn’t your friend would be wrong. At every level he was dear to you, from a simple ride to work in the mornings all the way to your petty crimes partner now that the two of you were old enough to know better.

“A fall guy.” He’d said.

“Or at least someone with better eyesight.” He’d said, this time pushing your glasses back up your nose.

“Someone that has a getaway car.” He’d said while spinning his key ring around his finger. That callused digit bounces in the corner of your vision, thick and longer than yours. Nails bitten short with grime from the shop still under them.

You’re trying to hand the store over to the night manager and Eddie’s come in early. Beelined directly for you standing behind the elevated register and leaned all cool and carefree on your counter.

“I don’t want to get involved tonight Ed. Trying to leave town tomorrow if you remember.” You mutter at him while you try to finish counting the till.

“Well duh, I’m not gonna get us caught. We need to leave at what, 9?”

“We?” You lift your head and he reaches over and pushes your glasses up again.

“Yeah, you didn’t know?” He gives you mischievous smile. “Your mom invited me. Sorry you had to find out like this.”

“What’d you do to butter her up this time?” You drop the pencil on the till log and shove your hands onto your hips.

“Nothing! I simply told her how Wayne was going on his fishing trip this week too and I was gonna be rotting around the trailer all…by…my lonesome…” He leans in, props his chin on his elbow and gives you big puppy eyes.

You haven’t fallen for those in about four years.

(This is a lie. One of many but this one is a repeat offender in your repertoire of excuses for Eddie Munson.)

“Rotting?” You jerk your hand in front of your hips. “Is that what they’re calling it now?” You grab the till and hand it over to your replacement and she gives you a nod and directs a long suffering sigh at your shadow.

“You think I wait for Wayne to leave town? Barely can wait to get home sometimes.” He grins. “Your bathroom is remarkably soundproof, did you know.”

You smack him in the chest with an old stack of magazines. “You’re a pig.”

“Yeah well what’s that make you?” He follows you to the back, management having long gotten over trying to tell him anything.

“The prize pony whose stall you keep breaking into.” You seethe at him. It’s all in good fun but he still pauses in the doorway and squints at you. He opens his mouth, plush lips forming around a word before he seems to think better of it. Runs his tongue along along his top teeth and leans again while you get your stuff together.

“Do you even have swim trunks?”

“No, that’s why we’re going to goodwill.”

“Please tell me we’re not stealing from goodwill today.” You ask when you walk past him again.

(You do this thing where you never ask him to move. He wouldn’t anyways but you always use this excuse to brush against him. You think he’s gonna complain about tits pushed into his chest? Ha.)

“God no. I wanted to break into Harrington’s pool.”

“Oh, a little B and E before we skip town?” You do a little shimmy and Eddie laughs.

“Yeah. Running away to Florida with your mom and her boyfriend. So inconspicuous.”

Eddie finds the most obnoxious pair of neon pink trunks and you run him into the ground with your teasing.

“Between your pasty ass and these, you’re gonna blind those poor panhandle girls.”

“Listen pet, they’ve never seen something like me before. I’m gonna have jaws in the fuckin’ sand.” He keeps flicking through hangers of swimsuits and misses your face exploding through 10 expressions before you hack out a sound that makes his head whip up.

“Pet?!” The disgust is thick in your tone and on your face.

(Another fake out. The day Eddie stops giving you nicknames is the day you cease finding happiness.)

“Yeah you know what, I don’t like it either. I heard it somewhere and wanted to give it a shot.” He shakes his head and grimaces and quickly yanks a hanger to hold up the worlds tiniest bikini.

“Found your suit.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“You’re slime.”

“Oh come on, you need something to wear to the beach. Unless you’re going stark because then I need to rethink my whole outfit.” He snorts and playfully tosses his suit over his shoulder onto the ground.

“I’ve already got one.”

“Aw, we didn’t even get to go shopping together!”

“Eddie?” You sigh and his head pops back up over the rack after picking up his dropped clothes. “Shut the fuck up.”

He drops you off at your house so you can finish packing and he goes to his trailer to start. You agree to be ready by 10 so it’s dark enough that Steve’s neighbors won’t call the cops.

(You spend the two hours mindlessly folding laundry and imaging all the tanned southern belles chasing after Eddie and his tattoos on white sand. When you try to pack your socks they’re shoved into tight balls and none of them match.)

“Is this even crime if Steve knows about it?”

“Steve doesn’t know when we’re going so yeah, still crime.”

The drive into Loch Nora is full of Eddie’s ‘songs about weed’ mix until you hit the neighborhood entrance and then Eddie kills the radio. He drives the speed limit and keeps the windows rolled up and slides seamlessly into the Harrington driveway like he belonged there. It isn’t long before you’re both shimmying over the fence and stripping clothes, leaving them like a trail to your crime scene. Eddie cannon balls into the deep end and you wade down the stairs slowly.

The water is hot like the air is hot, barely a difference between the wet and dry parts of you.

(The wet parts of you are definitely wetter when Eddie breaches the water. He’s got chlorine in his eyes so you get to stare longer at his curls flattening to his head. The blue light of the pool reflects off his pale skin and his tattoos come alive under moving water.)

“Oh okay good, I can still swim.” He sputters and runs his hands through his hair while he treads water. “Can’t be playing possum in front of the babes now can I?” He starts his slow paddle over to you until his feet touch the bottom and he can walk. The wet glistening on him has you clenching your hands under the water and hoping that he doesn’t see it.

(You’re good at this, the lying. To yourself and everyone else and especially to Eddie.)

“Is this the infamous bathing suit?” He flicks the zipper on your chest before miming an explosion around his head.

It’s a high necked, high cut one piece split down the front with a long black zipper. When you’d bought it you’d felt like the Babest Babe to ever Babe. Now though, with Eddie giving you an up and down glance you have some second thoughts.

Too much skin? Thigh? Ass? It’s no string bikini but it is tight and that zipper was hanging lower with every shift of your chest under the stretchy nylon.

“Gonna have to keep you in the cooler, baby.” He presses his finger into your bare shoulder and hisses. “Too hot.” He slinks backwards and falls in slow motion, arms spread outward to float.

(You notice it then and you think about it later, how he keeps his hips dipped below the water line. You won’t lie to yourself about keeping your eyes on him in the hopes you’d catch a glimpse of too tight trunks.)

“Shut up.”

“Make me.” He says to the night sky while he floats away from you.

You would if you could, but this isn’t that kind of relationship is it? Eddie is your friend, on every level imaginable.

Except that level that you don’t think about and keep locked in the basement of your imagination.

So you swim in Steve’s pool and Eddie pretends to be an alligator to try and pull you under.

He dives off the board and sits on the bottom of the pool to see how long he can hold his breath.

You sit on the edge and watch him wear himself out with laps and handstands and somersaults.

You sit and watch him glide through the pool like he was made from it.

You two get out of there without anyone noticing and he asks about the trip on the way back to your house. He asks about the drive and if your mom’s boyfriend will let him drive and what the hotel situation is like.

“Am I gonna have to share a bed with you?” He leans away from you, an overtly grossed out look shot at you. “You have those glacier feet and I’m not going to be held liable for any elbows in stomachs if they touch me.”

“You snore like a tractor.”

“But at least my feet don’t kill with their icy touch.”

Wayne drops Eddie off in the very early hours of 8 am. You can hear voices talking downstairs but then there’s heavy footsteps and then a huff and a shove of your shoulder and clammy skin pushing into your own sleep warm skin. Eddie smells like his morning cigarette and his peppermint toothpaste and for a fleeting moment you forget exactly what this is. That level you daren’t imagine is abruptly surface level and you roll back into him. Your nose smushes into his shoulder, your leg winds over his and you settle back into the pillow.

A solid few minutes of waking up and with every braincell that fires, your heart beats faster. He’s motionless like a corpse. Barely breathing judging by the little huffs against your pillow case.

“I am…so sorry.” The regret rolls off you and you shove off him to the other side of your bed, back pressed up against the wall.

“It’s okay I-“

“I was still asleep, I didn’t-“

“I shouldn’t have climbed in your bed unannounced.” He stares. You stare. The sheets between you two shift when you sit up and slide off the end of your bed to get up.

“I’m gonna uh…bathroom.” Stuttering and rubbing sleep out of your eyes you grab your pile of clothes and then sit in the bathroom for ten minutes.

(You lie the whole drive to Florida. 11 solid hours of kidding yourself, keeping a pillow shoved between yours and Eddie’s knees so your thighs won’t touch. Every pit stop you stare at him while he folds out from the back seat and think about wrapping your leg around him again.)

The motel is pink and blue and right on the water. The big arch that indicates the entrance to the beach welcomes you to Emerald Shores and while you don’t consider yourself a beach girl, it’s actually quite beautiful.

Your mom and her boyfriend have a room on the second floor and you and Eddie have been relegated to the bottom floor.

“Just call us peons and get it over with.” Eddie whispers at you from the corner of his mouth and you laugh before The Boyfriend can turn back around with your room keys.

Eddie spends all of ten minutes in the room before he just disappears while you’re in the shower. He comes back an hour later with a handful of shells and a pizza.

“What a resourceful Indiana raccoon you are.”

“Yes, and if I didn’t forage for us, who would?” He tosses the box on the bed next to your legs and you don’t miss his lingering stare on your calves. He covers it with a nod and a joke.

“You better wear socks tonight. I’ve already got the A/C set to 65, I don’t need you putting me on ice too.”

(You withhold the truth from Eddie the next morning by not waking him when you wake at 6 AM and find him latched around your middle.)

Eddie rents a spot with two chairs and an umbrella and he gets to talk to every girl walking the shore that afternoon. You’ve been alternating between PBR’s and waters and now to avoid the dark cloud trying to damped your mood you ratchet the chair back and scoot out from under the umbrella to take a nap. Eddie asks about 100 times if you remembered sunscreen and you tell him 101 times that yes you did and no you don’t need him to reapply it for you.

(Yes you do! If you’d stop being insane for two seconds you could have his hands on your back and over your shoulders and up along the high cut of your hip and maybe he’d dip those musicians fingers behind your convenient zipper and-)

“You might want to pull your zipper up then.”

You peak one eye open to stare down at your chest. From this angle your don’t have cleavage so much as a valley but the zipper on your suit has popped down a few more teeth and Eddie seems to have noticed.

“I just don’t want you burning is all.” He sniffs. You roll your head to look at him and catch his quick shift of attention away from you.

In your light napping you hear a few voices asking Eddie where he’s from and if his tattoos hurt. One girl says she loves his hair, “especially tied back like that, so cute.”

Another girl asks about his girlfriend.

“Oh her?”

You imagine he points over his shoulder at you with a big thumb.

“Yeah. You sure she doesn’t mind you talking to me?”

You’d love to sit up and point out that you’re awake and also that she walked up to him but Eddie beats you to it.

“Oh this is all a cover. She’s actually scoping out this beach.” He gets a conspiratorial lilt to his voice and you imagine he’s leaning forward and turning on his Munson Charm.

“For what?” Mystery girl number 10 asks.

“She’s an international jewel thief and she’s heard there’s some real old money around here.”

You snort and alert them that you are, in fact, listening.

“Wait, seriously?” Suddenly this girl sounds wary. She makes up an excuse and scampers off down the beach back to her tan friends.

“Swing and a miss, Munster.”

“No. I made you laugh didn’t I?”

If Eddie has to watch that zipper unzip another zip he’s also going to unzip all of his zips.

It’s hot, and he and his brain have been baking under the sun but he refuses to leave. With you laid out in that fucking bathing suit he can’t miss a single moment of you in it. He’s on his…sixth, maybe eighth beer and his looks get longer with every empty in the cooler. He can make out the tan line on your hip when you roll over and he almost inhales the last of his drink because you’re all legs and ass. He can’t wait for later when you’ll be laid out after your shower, shorts hitched up from you sliding down the comforter and he’ll be able to catch a glimpse of that darkening line along your butt.

“Fucking hell…”

“You wanna head back in?”

(He does. He really does. He’ll carry the cooler and his towel in front of himself to hide his eagerness. He’ll carry your shit too just to watch you walk unencumbered in front of him, leading the way back to the air conditioned heaven and your thin pajamas.)

Three days in, two left to go and Eddie has decided he’s done lying to himself. He watches you every afternoon out in the sun in your bathing suit or the worlds shortest shorts and the most cropped band tees that he thinks might have been his at some point. He watches you run and roll over sand and wade cautiously into the ocean. There’s this part of your stomach he’s positive he’s never seen before and he watches very closely for the soft roll of it to peak out from under your shirts.

(He’s wanted to sink his teeth into you for a while but this new body part makes his teeth hurt. He drools after your thighs and dreams of digging his fingers into the soft dough of your ass. He imagines while he watches you stretched out on your towel that you’d be so soft in all those hidden places and he imagines so long he lets his beer go hot in the sand.)

He walks to cheap little gas stations over hot asphalt and hotter sand to get beer with you. He’d worry you two were going a little hard in the paint but it’s Florida where it’s practically state law that you drink shitty beer by the 12 pack, daily, if your staying on the beach front.

He follows you around like a loyal hound and acts like a guard dog when these fucking dudes start sniffing around you. Tall and tan and smelling like sunscreen and ocean. Eddie walks close behind, your constant second shadow and these fucking dudes get the hint when he glowers at them.

“I don’t think Floridians take too kindly to us midlanders.” You chew on a fry thoughtfully, knee hugged to your chest.

“What do you mean?” Eddie is finally drinking water after two days and a midnight migraine reminded him why you can’t just exist off of piss water beer.

“That girl the other day didn’t think you were funny which, come on.” You roll your eyes and say it like it’s so obvious how funny he his and he’s instantly convinced he could chuckle his way into your cutoffs. “And these dudes, they practically cross the street when we walk down the same sidewalk.”

Eddie just hums at you and finishes his water. He watches you wipe your fingers on your rapidly darkening thigh and he wants to lick the salt and sunscreen off your skin.

You find this little seafood place for dinner and Eddie is surprised he even sees your mom and her boyfriend show up. They’re not unwelcome but he’s sure they haven’t left their room since they arrived.

He has to put real shoes on which throws him for a loop but it’s not fancy. Neither of you are that, especially after almost four days of bumming it at the beach and being mildly drunk for most of it. He’s still watching everything you do, convinced and baptized in the Florida sun and sand that he can tell you his truth finally.

He waits for a break in your conversation with your mom to tap his index finger on your knee. “Can we go to the gas station before we head back?”

“Of course. Need more beer?” You nod as you ask. “I don’t know if we’ve had our daily allotment.”

He laughs through his nose and when you turn back to answer your moms question his stomach does a nervous flip and he doesn’t trust the shrimp on his plate anymore.

“You didn’t finish your dinner.”

“Okay mom.”

“I just wanted to know if everything was okay. You’ve been quiet today.” You stroll beside him, sandals in hand while he carries a fifth of southern comfort that he nervously bounces against his thigh.

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, “just taking it all in a guess?” The sunset paints the horizon in a way that is alien to the sunsets in Hawkins. “It’s pretty.” He says that to the side of your head while you look at the sky over the ocean. Even in his shorts and his chopped up tee he’s sweating but the breeze coming off the beach tells him this is all nerves and maybe he wasn’t ready to say it.

“Wanna take a walk on the beach?” You stop at one of the entrances and nod your head over, soft smile laid out on your face.

“Sure.”

The light paints both of you in a soft pink light and Eddie really needs to buy your mom something, anything to show his appreciation for the invitation. He could have missed out on this, instead probably working overtime at the auto shop and drinking sadly by himself, counting down time till you or Wayne got home.

Instead he gets to watch you walk ahead of him and lead the way to a tall fishing pier. He watches you kick the sand around and look for shells to add to your new collection.

“Can I ask you something?” You don’t turn around, just trust that the wind will blow your question to him.

“Anything.”

You only stop when you get to one of the massive pilings, turning to lean your shoulder into it above the mess of barnacles. You stare at him, raking your eyes over his body and when he’s about to open his mouth you ask him.

“Can I kiss you?”

He’s 23 and not never kissed, just never been asked. Your open look shows your sincerity, eyes shining in the waning light, lip worried at by your teeth. He wants to sooth those nerves and kiss the salt air off of you. He chuckles, a light huff through his nose.

“Yeah.”

Your eyes light up as you get closer, dropping your handful of things into the sand.

“I’ve wanted to…for a while.”

“It’s not just my laissez-faire beach attitude drawing you in?” He drops the bottle behind him.

“No.” You smile before you kiss him. Soft hands on the side of his face bring him down and in, his curtain of hair blocking out the rest of the world. His lips are plush and a little chapped when they touch yours, damp from him nervously licking them before you’d bridged the gap. His hands find homes on your waist and he doesn’t miss the small sound you make when his fingers creep up under your shirt. You hold on to his face and push up into him and for a moment, he forgets you’re both on a public beach. He lets his hands wander to those hidden places and eats up your groans that you place directly in his mouth. It’s only when he hears the distant roar of an approaching atv that he comes to. Reluctantly breaks the kiss but keeps his forehead pressed to yours.

“Can we go-“

“Yes, please.” You snatch your things off the sand and start walking back towards the motel, his hand clutched tightly in yours.

Later he’ll come out of the bathroom still shaking sand out of his hair even after his shower, to find you watching tv. Still naked but wound up in the starchy sheets, one long leg left out so he can stare.

(That’s where he’d started as soon as the door closed. Backed you right up against the bed till you fell and he followed your leg up to your knee up to your hip, kissing off the sand and the salt and your sunscreen like he promised. He calls you sweetheart and beautiful and sweet like honey and he gets to watch you preen under his words.)

“Have a good shower?” You’re soft and relaxed into the bed, biting on a nail and watching him.

“Eh, so-so.” He didn’t bother with a towel, you’ve just seen him and he intends on you seeing him more.

(He was right. He was able to laugh you right out of your shorts. Nervous giggles while he inched up your stomach, tongue tasting soft skin and dipping in along your bellybutton. Like magic you were out of your shorts and out of your top and he’d had an idea that you weren’t wearing a bra but the light v of tanned skin between your breast makes him pause all the same.)

“Water pressure no good?”

“No, I still have fucking sand everywhere.” He kneels on the bed to slowly crawl over to you.

(He likes how you watch him. He realizes when he has one pebbled nipple in his mouth that you’ve been watching him for longer than today. Your heavy gaze directed down at him while he licks and nips at thin skin. He grabs and gropes your breast and you sigh and he thinks about buying this motel and never leaving.)

“Oh I’m sorry baby.” You coo at him. He hovers over you and shakes his hair above you.

“See?” And you squeal as sand litters the pillow.

(Your noises kill him softly. He’s heard you laugh and groan and yell before but not like this. Your laugh when he kisses up your neck sounds different that before. When he slides your underwear off and wastes no time pushing his fingers into your wet heat, that groan is deep in your throat. He’s not even fully undressed before he has you undone, loudly yelling his name and clutching his arm while he abuses that spot deep inside that makes you gush over his palm.)

“What the fuck Eddie!” You slap at him to get him off but he drops his weight and pins you in place. You still smell like sunscreen and ocean and cheap beer and he swears he’ll find a way to bottle it.

“I don’t want to leave.” He says sincerely.

(He can’t leave actually because this is the room where he got to touch you. A hundred kisses before he even gets his pants off, 50 more before your hands pull him from his boxers, another dozen or so while you lazily run your hand up and down his length and one final one before he pushes into you slow. He forces himself to keep his eyes open so he can watch. Your gasping and your reaching. The way you bounce under him when grabs the headboard for leverage and soundproofing.)

“This is nice, isn’t it?” You sound sad as you card your fingers through his drying curls.

“I mean…Hawkins can be kind of nice too. If you want.” His chest is tight when he asks his non question. Drops his truth out into the open like that.

(That tight feeling isn’t new, he’s always gotten that with you. Now though the levels are all different. You’ve kissed him and made him cum hot across your belly and you keep holding on to his head like he’s something precious to be kept safe and and and-)

“Hawkins can be nice.” Simple agreement makes his heart swell. He takes a deep breath and finally relaxes into you. You shimmy around to get the blankets over both you and Eddie’s dead weight. He plays with the ends of your hair laying against the pillow, white sand flecks sparkling in the dim motel lighting and decides he’s seen enough of the beach this week.

(You don’t lie to him much anymore, just enough to keep his ego in check. If he had any idea just how deep it all went, you’d never be able to pull him off the ceiling. He’s still a pig and he’s still slime but he’s your pig and your little plastic trash can container of slime. You’d be lying if you said Eddie wasn’t your friend, but the levels got all gummed up with sand and shells and now you don’t have to lie to yourself anymore.)

((Sacrifice for the read more))

#Eddie Munson fic #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson Smut #Eddie Munson Fluff #My Work #My Fic

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year ago

Text

Blind Offer 2

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After a leak causes you to evacuate your apartment, your landlord offers a vacant unit that’s too good to be true. (short!plus!reader)

Character: Steve Rogers, additional characters to come

Note: This is one of my Corrupt-A-Wish requests but I won’t reveal which one right away because it’ll be part of the plot!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like I love turning intended one shots into series. Take care. 💖

You come out of work exhausted. The back to school crowd is still in full effect and infringing on your stocking time. Rather than pop your earbud in and lose yourself in barcodes and inventory counts, you more often found yourself searching out a salesman or running to the back to grab a device yourself.

You yawn into the crook of your elbow, feet carrying you out of routine rather than any coherent thought. There’s a flash of headlights as you pass a car idling along the pick up area and you slow down as you squint at the tinted windshield. The interior bulb flicks on and Steve leans forward, giving you a look through the glass as if you should be expecting him.

You slow down and approach the driver’s side as he rolls down the window. You lean in and give a sheepish smile, “uh, I…”

“Didn’t text?” He finishes your sentence, “I figured you were busy.”

“Oh, well, you didn’t–”

“Have to come get you. Yeah, I figured you’d say that again. Really, it’s kind of selfish on my part. Thinking of you waiting in the dark alone, it’s kind of my fault you even have to so I can at least give you a lift.”

“That’s… nice of you but tomorrow, I can catch a bus.”

“If you insist,” he shrugs, “I won’t twist your arm with my kindness.”

You laugh softly, unsure of his humour. It’s more akin to passive aggression. As if even thinking of passing up his offer is an insult. Wouldn’t it be worse to use him for free rides? You’re already getting to stay in a property well above your lease value.

“You gonna get in?” He prompts.

“Yeah, sure, sorry, I–”

“Hey, thanks for the help on that Lenovo,” Remo calls as he walks out the front doors, shooting you a three finger wave, “not bad for a warehouse jockey.”

“No problem. Have a good night,” you wave back.

You skirt around the hood of the car and grab the door handle. It snaps back and you wait until the locks clack back loudly. You get in and gently shut the door. You unreel the seat belt as Steve adjusts his rearview.

“You got a lot of friends at work?” He asks as he shifts gear, resting his toe lightly on the gas.

“Eh, I guess,” you lean your arm on the door, “busy day. Did a lot of running around.”

“Huh, yeah, maybe I should stop in tomorrow. Need some stuff for a few units. Got a security cam I need to replace and– you got appliances, don’t you?” He rambles over the steering wheel.

“Yeah, uh, I think. Mostly to order,” you rest your cheek against your knuckles and watch how you pass in and out of the yellow cones cast by streetlights. “I guess you’re still looking for a new washer then?”

“Well, they don’t make the same model anymore. Space is pretty compact which means I need something with the same dimensions. I’m shopping around,” He taps his fingers on the wheel, “I’ll figure it out.”

You nod and give a hum. No use worrying too much about it. You only rent the place, it’s really not your problem to think about the washer. He did say it already had issues before you.

“So, how do you like the place?” He asks abruptly.

“Huh, oh, yeah, it’s very nice. Big,” you answer nervously.

“Yeah, that one’ll go for a lot. A few showings but no bites yet. Probably won’t get anything until I can get you back to your place, heh,” he says the last part casually as if it isn’t directly aimed at you.

“Mmm, um, then I hope you find a washer soon,” you pull your arm away from the door and sit back in the seat. “I hate to be in the way.”

“In the way? I’m the landlord, I knew what I was getting into,” he assures you lightly, though it does little to assuage your doubts. “Oh, and since you didn’t really get a chance, I got a few groceries and left them at the place. Just to get you by.”

“You– Oh, gosh, how much do I owe you?”

“Consider us even. You’ve been pretty cooperative with all this back and forth, I’m the one who owes you.”

“Well, I don’t mind paying for my food–”

“Really, sweetheart, do you always react so adversely to kindness?”

“What? I’m not– no.”

“I’m being nice. I can tell you, there’s not a lot of landlords out there like me. I actually enjoy helping my tenants…” he turns onto a dark street and you shiver. You’ve never been down this way but you don’t live on this side of town. “I always said, whatever you need, just ask.”

“Sure, um, thanks,” you murmur.

He turns back onto a lit avenue as a glint of light flickers over him and draws your eyes. You catch him peeking at you, his blue eye reflecting the flash before he can look back at the road ahead. You shiver and cross your arms. It didn’t seem like he was looking at your face.

“Fresh sheets on the bed too. Hope you don’t mind, I did a once over when you were gone. Just to make sure I didn’t miss anything. Quick vacuum and all that.”

“It’s your place,” you say, “I’ll be sure to leave it how I found it.”

He inhales, deep enough for you to hear, “I know. You’re not a troublemaker, are you?”

You swallow and furrow your brow at the dashboard. Again, it’s not just his words but his vague tone. You don’t understand the question.

“Good girl like you always pays her rent on time,” he praises, “I can tell you, that’s not always the case.”

You let out a breath, “oh, aha, yeah, well, scheduled payments… technology, right?”

“Mhmm,” he sucks his teeth and lets his arm rest on the console between the seats, ”it’s so easy to be lazy these days.”

🖤

Steve walks you up to the front door. Just in case you can’t get the code right, he claims. You get it on the first try and thank him. Again. He lingers, as if reluctant to leave you, as if he’s expecting to come inside with you. Almost as if you should invite him in.

You say good night and lock the door behind you. You take your time untying your black sneakers and hang your hoodie on the coat rack. When you dare to peek out the window, he’s only just striding down the path back to his car.

It’s slightly creepy but then you feel guilty, thinking maybe you were being rude not asking him in for a tea or something. You don’t know. This whole situation is awkward as hell.

You wander into the kitchen, your stomach growling from the measly microwave dinner you ate on your break. Steve’s ‘small shop’ is much more generous than you expect. Overdoing it seems to be a trait of his.

You read the side of the organic milk in the curved bottle. You know that it costs three times as much as your usual carton of skim. And the greek yogurt, definitely expensive. All brand names, none of the generic discount bin goodies you thrive on.

You let the fridge close as you take out the boxed butternut squash soup. Fancy, you think as you peruse the label. Gourmet, so it claims. You put some in a small pot and heat it up on the gas burner. As you do, you thumb through your phone, pacing around between stirring the thick orange puree.

You eat rich soup with a brioche bun from the market bag. You’re thankful now Steve didn’t ask for compensation, you’re not sure you could foot that bill. And to think, after him praising your timely payments, you would default on a grocery receipt.

You shut off the lights downstairs and flip on the sconce above the staircase and follow it up to the second floor. You come down the hall with a yawn, the bedroom door open and waiting for you. Your duffel is on the dresser where you left it.

You sift around for a loose tee shirt to sleep in and pull out your toiletry bag. You go into the bathroom and change before unzipping the pouch. You take out your cleanser and wash your face over the sink. You pause as you drop the bottle through the open mouth of the blush coloured bag, a fuchsia shape poking out from under your mouthwash.

You reach in and retrieve your bullet vibrator. What the hell? You definitely don’t remember packing that in your hasty evacuation. Besides, why would you put it in there? You shake your head and drop it back to the bottom.

You pat your face dry and take out your tweezers, cleaning up your brows and a few vagrant hairs along your chin. You put them away then ply on your night cream, making a face at yourself as you brush your teeth. You flip the switch off and use the light on your phone to find your way to bed.

You lay awake for almost an hour. You’ve never been good at sleeping in strange places. The house feels so empty it’s eerie. Your ears are pricked for any noise but there isn’t much. The walls are so thick, you don’t even hear the rustling of the tree that casts a shadow through the window or the chirp of crickets. Despite its luxury, the house is desolate.

Your eyelids start to itch and you feel your muscles ease. You start to drift down, a slow swirling descent that tingles in your sockets. That shell starts to encase you, little by little, paralysing you as it drags you down.

BANG!

It isn’t loud but sudden. The dull noise jars you up, chasing away the advance of your fatigue. You look around, heart beating wildly, searching for the source. It sounded close but you can’t be sure. It could’ve been all in your mind as you tiptoed the threshold of your unconscious.

You bounce to the edge of the bed and stand, wobbling through the dark until you find the switch by the door. The light shines out around you as you stop in the doorway, glancing trepidatiously towards the stairs. You near the top and turn on the next light, a cautious progress through the spacious house.

You go down each step, one at a time, and when you get to the bottom, you illuminate the entryway too, the front room, and finally the kitchen. There’s nothing there. You didn’t really expect to find anything. The noise felt much closer to the bedroom.

You return to the second floor, shutting off the lights along the way, and you peer down the hallway. You didn’t check up here. You pad along the soft runner rug and peek into the bathroom before you approach the closed door of the study.

You touch the handle and a zing of fear courses through you. You should just go back to bed. You don’t need to know.

You turn it and inch inside, snaking your other hand in to flick on the lights. The same. Nothing there. You shut the door and proceed to the second bedroom, the door is slightly ajar so you kick it open with your foot and let the light in the hallway pour in. Empty.

You’re imagining things. It’s being in this strange house. Whenever you stayed the night at your grandmother’s it was the same thing. If you weren’t awake, waiting for the creaks of the house to prove something sinister, you were trapped in shallow night terrors that felt too real.

You return to the bedroom. You don’t turn off the light right away. You grab your charger and plug in your phone, opening up the white noise app you never used. You scroll through the choices with their dreamy names; serenity, fantasy, rejuvenation…

Your thumb hovers over the start button as you hear something else. Muffled and hollow. You frown, you can’t tell if it’s real or your mind playing tricks. There’s such a surreal distant effect to the scream that you can’t be sure it’s not some stray cat yowling in the street. The silence that ensues feeds your doubt. You’re looking for peculiarities, that’s all.

You press play on the soothing wishing noises and set your phone on the night table. You get up to shut off the lights and quickly nestle into bed, pulling a pillow over your head to block out the room. You just need to make it through the first night.

🖤

The next day, you leave earlier than usual. The change in your bus route and prospect of a narrow transfer from one bus to the next, has you anxious. Before you leave, you double check that you have your bus pass and some spare change just in case. You hook your bag around your shoulder, the security system announcing your exit; ‘front door open’.

You pull the door shut and hit the lock icon on the pad. You test the handle to make sure it’s closed and for a moment, you’re disoriented as you hear the door unlock but it doesn’t budge. You frown and look up as a shadow emerges from the unit next to yours. It wasn’t your door.

A man with long brown hair poking out from under a ball cap turns to punch in his code before locking it. The pad flashes red confirming the door is secured. He scowls at the handle as he drops his arm straight, his hand balling to a fist as he mutters.

“Morning,” you greet, the typical squeaky greeting you give to your neighbours.

He winces and turns as he looks up at you. You must’ve surprised him. You give an apologetic wave and tight-lipped smile. His blue eyes shock you, bold but bright in his chiseled face. He tilts his head slightly before he spins without response and stalks away. You watch his broad shoulders as he marches across the street without looking.

Not the friendliest of neighbours but the first one you’ve encountered. It’s a little less offputting knowing you’re not the only one around. You let out a long breath and make your way down the paved pathway to the sidewalk. You peek back at the unit next door. The curtains are drawn and the place looks dark even at the peak of day.

You shrug it off. You should only be there for a couple more days. That’s it. That’s all you have to get through.

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