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faebled-stories · 3 months ago

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The Weight of Approval

Kinkvember Day 19: Facesitting

(G)-IDLE Cho Miyeon x Gender Neutral reader

11.7k words

It’s just another shift at the café—a grind that blurs together with yesterday and all the days before. The worn counters, the hum of the coffee machine, the clink of mismatched mugs—it’s all routine. The same cracked tiles beneath your feet, the same smudged menu board hanging above the register. The café isn’t much, tucked into the corner of a busy street, frequented more for convenience than ambiance. It’s the kind of place that serves as a pit stop for hurried commuters, not somewhere anyone lingers.

You barely register the motions anymore. Each cup you fill, every polite smile you force, feels like another tick of the clock until your shift ends. But even then, that only means returning to your tiny apartment—three floors up in a creaky, aging building where the walls are thin, and the heater groans louder than it works. Inside, there’s a stack of unopened bills on the kitchen counter, a fridge that hums louder than it cools, and shelves lined with little more than ramen packets and canned soup. Payday is still a week away, and you’ve already done the math—it won’t stretch far enough.

Every month is the same. Rent looms like a guillotine, always just one mistake away from coming down. The café job was supposed to be temporary, just something to cover the basics until you landed something better. But “temporary” stretched into months, and now it feels like a trap, closing in around you as the bills keep piling higher. Nights at your other job—a late shift at a dingy convenience store—blur into exhaustion. Between the two jobs, sleep is a luxury, and dreams? Those have been shelved for “later,” though you’re no longer sure when “later” will come.

The bell above the door rings, jolting you from your thoughts. It’s automatic to glance up, expecting a regular with their usual small talk and routine order. Instead, she walks in.

The woman is striking, her presence undeniable from the moment she steps inside. Everything about her is sharp and precise, from the tailored fit of her sleek black suit to the effortless grace in her stride. The glint of her designer heels catches the dull light of the café, momentarily outshining the worn surroundings. Her dark sunglasses obscure her eyes, but you feel the weight of her gaze, like she’s sizing up the entire room in a single sweep. She’s out of place here, like a panther wandering into a pet shop.

She doesn’t wait in line. Instead, she glides directly to the counter, her movements fluid and purposeful, ignoring the subtle whispers and curious glances from the few other patrons.

“I’ll take my usual,” she says, her voice low and polished, each word perfectly enunciated.

You blink, caught off guard. There’s an air of expectation in her tone, as though her usual should be obvious. For a second, you feel like you’ve failed an unspoken test, unable to recall what she’s asking for. “I—uh—I’m not sure what your usual is…”

Her sunglasses slide down just enough for you to see her eyes. They’re sharp and assessing, a piercing gaze that seems to cut straight through you. “Is there a problem?” The question is more of a challenge than a clarification, her tone daring you to falter.

Before you can stammer out an apology, your coworker Minnie steps in, her movements quick and anxious. “I’ll take care of it,” she says, her voice soft and hurried. She doesn’t look at you as she nudges you aside, her trembling hands already reaching for the espresso machine.

The woman steps back, folding her arms as she waits. Her gaze, however, doesn’t leave you. It’s piercing and unrelenting, a quiet power that feels suffocating. She doesn’t speak, doesn’t need to—her presence alone commands the room.

Minnie works quickly, though her nervousness is evident. She fumbles slightly with the milk, spilling a few drops as she pours. When the drink is finally ready, she hesitates, glancing at the woman as if trying to gauge her mood. After a tense moment, Minnie takes a deep breath, picks up the cup, and walks it over.

You watch as she offers the drink, her posture stiff, like she’s bracing for something. The woman leans in slightly, inspecting the cup with the precision of a jeweler examining a diamond. She murmurs something, soft and deliberate, but her eyes remain locked on you.

Minnie freezes for a beat, her shoulders tightening before she nods and turns back toward you, her steps quick and unsteady. Her face is pale, her usual cheerful expression replaced with unease.

“She…” Minnie begins, her voice barely above a whisper as she sets the cup down on the counter in front of you. Her hands fidget with her apron. “She wants you to bring it to her.”

You glance at Minnie, confused. “Me? Why?”

Minnie shakes her head, her eyes wide. “I don’t know,” she whispers. “But you should just do it. Don’t… don’t upset her.”

The anxiety in Minnie’s voice sends a chill down your spine, but there’s no time to question it. The woman hasn’t moved. Her gaze is fixed on you, calm and unwavering, yet it carries a weight that feels oppressive, like a predator sizing up its prey.

You pick up the cup, its warmth doing little to steady your trembling hands, and step toward her. Each movement feels deliberate, exaggerated by the tension in the air. Her eyes track your every step, sharp and unrelenting, leaving you feeling utterly exposed. The café’s noise—the hum of the coffee machine, the soft chatter of patrons—fades into a dull background buzz as all your focus narrows on her.

When you’re close enough, you extend the cup toward her, your pulse hammering in your ears. Her fingers brush yours as she takes it, her touch cool and fleeting, yet it sends a shiver racing through you. Her lips curl into a faint smile—small, deliberate, and unsettling, like she’s amused by some private joke you’re not in on.

“Well aren’t you adorable,” she murmurs, her voice low and smooth, with just enough of an edge to leave you unsure if it’s a compliment or a taunt. Her gaze lingers on you, unhurried, peeling back invisible layers like she’s already learned more about you than you’d ever willingly share.

You open your mouth to respond, but the words catch in your throat as she tilts her head slightly, her expression shifting into something closer to curiosity—or is it calculation?

“How would you like to earn some extra money?” she asks, her tone casual yet deliberate, as if the question is part of a test.

The words land like a thunderclap, unexpected and disarming. You blink, caught off guard, the full weight of her presence pressing down on you as the question hangs in the air. The answer should be obvious—of course you do. You think of the bills piling up on your kitchen counter, the hollow ache in your stomach from skipping meals, and the rent looming over you like a storm cloud. But there’s something about the way she asks, something that makes your pulse race with more than just hope.

“I—uh…” Your voice wavers, and you hesitate, but the intensity of her gaze pushes you to nod, slowly at first, then more firmly. “Sure.”

Her smile deepens, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Instead, there’s a flicker of satisfaction, like she’s just confirmed something she already knew. She reaches into her purse with a deliberate, practiced motion and pulls out a business card. The action feels almost ceremonial as she hands it to you with a lazy grace. The card is pristine and minimalist: Ascend International. Cho Miyeon, CEO.

“Come to this address at 8 pm tonight,” she says, her tone smooth and unyielding. “Don’t be late.”

You glance down at the card in your hand, its edges crisp and cool against your fingertips. The weight of it feels disproportionate to its size, like it’s a key to a door you’re not sure you’re ready to open.

Her gaze flickers down to your mouth, and for a moment, she pauses, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as if an idea has just occurred to her. “Stick your tongue out,” she says suddenly.

The request catches you so off guard that you hesitate, unsure if you’ve heard her correctly. But her expression remains unchanged—no humor, no patience, only expectation. The air between you feels heavy, charged, as if she’s testing you.

Against every instinct, you comply, your face heating as you stick out your tongue. You feel ridiculous, exposed, yet there’s a compulsion in her gaze that makes resistance impossible. She studies you for a beat, her smirk deepening in satisfaction before she straightens, her presence as composed and commanding as ever.

“Good,” she murmurs, almost to herself, before turning and striding out of the café, her movements fluid and unhurried, like someone who always gets exactly what they want.

As the door swings shut behind her, Minnie sidles up beside you, her voice low and shaky. “You… you have no idea who she is, do you?”

You shake your head, your fingers clutching the card tightly. “No. Should I?”

Minnie’s eyes widen, her usual cheerful demeanor replaced by something cautious, almost fearful. “Cho Miyeon,” she whispers, glancing toward the door as if expecting her to walk back in. “She owns half this city. If she wants something from you…” She trails off, shaking her head. “Just don’t screw it up. People don’t usually get second chances with her.”

You look down at the card again, its elegant design somehow intimidating. It feels out of place in your hands, like it belongs in a world far removed from your own. Yet, as the weight of her gaze lingers in your mind, you think about your reality—your landlord’s last warning, the meals you’ve skipped, the endless grind of multiple jobs that never seem to be enough.

Maybe this is the kind of risk you need to take.

If you can survive it

-----

Stepping into Ascend International’s headquarters feels like stepping into another world. The building itself is a towering monolith of glass and steel, its sleek facade reflecting the city skyline with an almost arrogant perfection. The sheer scale of it is intimidating, a symbol of power that dominates the horizon, making everything around it feel insignificant by comparison.

The lobby is no less imposing. It’s cavernous, every surface polished to a mirror-like gleam. The pristine marble floors stretch out endlessly, their subtle veining shimmering under the soft, calculated lighting. Minimalist artwork, abstract yet commanding, adorns the high walls, while brushed metal accents catch the light in subtle, expensive flashes. It’s a space that whispers sophistication but demands reverence, as if even the air inside has been curated for those who belong.

The people moving through the lobby only add to the sense that you’re out of place. They stride with purpose, their designer suits immaculate, their gazes fixed straight ahead as if they’re always on the brink of something important. No one lingers. No one hesitates. Everyone here seems to belong, moving in seamless synchronization, like pieces in a machine that runs on ambition and authority.

Clutching the business card Miyeon gave you, you force yourself to breathe steadily as you approach the reception desk. It looms ahead of you, an enormous slab of black marble so flawless it seems to absorb the light around it. Its size and stark design make you feel even smaller, dwarfed not just by the desk but by the sheer magnitude of the world you’ve just stepped into.

Behind the desk sits a young woman, impeccably dressed and exuding the kind of confidence that only comes from being part of something this powerful. Her name tag reads Song Yuqi, but it’s her sharp eyes that capture your attention. They snap up the moment you approach, and in a single, sweeping glance, she seems to assess everything about you—your clothes, your posture, the nervous energy you can’t quite suppress. It’s a look that feels both brisk and invasive, as if she’s already reached a conclusion before you’ve even spoken.

“Hi, I’m here for an interview with Ms. Cho,” you manage to say, though your voice sounds smaller than you’d like. You straighten your posture, hoping it’ll help mask the nervous tension tightening in your chest.

Yuqi’s lips twitch into a faint smirk, a flicker of amusement crossing her otherwise polished demeanor. “Oh, I know what this is about,” she says, her tone light and almost playful. Her gaze drifts over you again, slower this time, adding an unsettling layer of scrutiny. It’s as if she’s sizing you up for something you’re not privy to, enjoying a private joke at your expense.

Without another word, she opens a drawer with precise, practiced movements and pulls out a slim stack of papers. She hands them to you with a flick of her wrist, her smile deepening as though she’s waiting for your reaction. “Here,” she says, the amusement in her voice unmistakable. “You’ll need to sign this.”

You glance down at the papers, your breath catching as your eyes skim the first few lines. The text reads: Employment Contract. The words jump out at you—personal assistant, non-disclosure agreement, exclusive services—but most of the document is dense with legal jargon that blurs together as your eyes dart across the page. Then, a number leaps out at you—the salary.

It’s staggering. More money than you’ve ever made in your life. More than you’d even dared to dream of earning, even after years of grinding through multiple shifts and sleepless nights. For a moment, the weight of it all hits you at once: no more overdue bills, no more rationing groceries or waking up in a cold sweat over rent. This could change everything.

You glance back at Yuqi, who’s watching you with that same faint smirk, her amusement sharpening as if she can read every thought racing through your mind. There’s something unnerving about how much she seems to know—like she’s been expecting you to react this way all along.

Your hand hesitates over the contract. Rationally, you know this is unusual. Signing a contract before even meeting with Miyeon feels strange, almost reckless. But the rational part of you is quickly drowned out by the sheer allure of the number staring back at you. Slowly, almost dreamlike, you pick up the pen and sign your name. It feels surreal, like you’re crossing an invisible threshold into a world you’re not sure you belong in.

When you look up, Yuqi’s smirk has widened, her amusement shifting into something sharper, almost predatory. She takes the papers from you with a practiced efficiency, her fingers grazing yours briefly before she sets them aside. “Top floor,” she says, her voice smooth and a little too cheerful. “Room 2601. Don’t keep her waiting.”

You nod, your throat too tight to respond, and turn toward the elevator bank. As you walk away, Yuqi’s voice trails after you, light and teasing but with a faint edge of something you can’t quite place. “Good luck,” she calls, her tone carrying a hint of pity that sends a shiver down your spine.

As you press the elevator button, the weight of what just happened settles over you. The sleek lobby, the polished marble, the silent power radiating from every corner of this place—it all feels like it’s pressing down on you, reminding you of how small and out of place you are. Yet, in your hand, the signed contract feels heavier than it should, a reminder of the door you’ve just opened.

After stepping into the elevator, the doors glide shut with a smooth finality, sealing you off from the world below. Yuqi’s soft chuckle lingers in your mind, faint yet cutting, like the echo of something you can’t quite grasp. Was she mocking you? Warning you? The question gnaws at you, but there’s no time to dwell on it.

The elevator begins its ascent, smoothly but at an unnerving speed, and each floor that flashes by on the display only amplifies your anxiety. By the time you reach the top floor, your heart is pounding, each beat echoing in your ears.

The doors open with a soft chime, and you step out into a long, dimly lit hallway. It’s strikingly different from the bright, bustling lobby below—quiet, almost unnaturally so, with thick carpeting that muffles your footsteps. Floor-to-ceiling windows line one side of the hall, offering a sweeping view of Seoul’s glittering cityscape far below, the lights sprawling endlessly in the night. The silence is profound, almost oppressive, heightening the tension coiling within you.

At the end of the hallway, a single door waits: Room 2601. The numbers gleam in brushed silver, unassuming yet undeniably foreboding.

You approach the door slowly, each step making your breath come shorter, the weight of anticipation settling heavily on your shoulders. Reaching the door, you raise a hand, hesitate for just a moment, then knock. The sound is barely more than a whisper against the thick, quiet air. Then you wait, each second stretching out into tense silence, your mind racing as you imagine the woman behind the door—the woman who is already reshaping the course of your life with a single, strange offer.

Finally, the door opens. Miyeon stands there, poised and composed, her gaze sharp enough to cut through the tension you’ve built up in your mind. Her presence fills the room instantly, commanding and undeniable. The tailored lines of her outfit emphasize her power, every detail of her appearance deliberate, perfected. She doesn’t say anything at first; her cool, assessing eyes are enough to strip you of any lingering confidence.

“Did you sign the contract?” she cuts the silence, her tone calm but unyielding, the question landing with an air of finality. Her gaze doesn’t waver as she waits for your response, clearly expecting nothing less than the truth.

“Yes, Ms. Cho,” you reply automatically, trying to keep your voice steady despite the nervous tightness in your chest.

A faint, almost predatory smile touches her lips, curving with just enough subtlety to unsettle you. “Good.” She takes a step closer, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor, her eyes narrowing as she studies you. The weight of her gaze feels unbearable, as though she’s deciding whether you’re even worth the moment she’s spending on you. “Let’s begin your orientation,” she says smoothly, though there’s something in her tone that makes it feel less like an introduction and more like a trial.

You nod, swallowing hard, trying to push down the uncertainty tightening in your stomach. She watches you for a moment longer, as though savoring your discomfort, then parts her lips, her words delivered with meticulous precision.

“I need to know if you’re capable of handling my needs—whatever they may be,” she says, each syllable deliberately enunciated. Her eyes stay locked on yours as she takes another step forward, her voice low and unyielding. “This position demands complete obedience and total surrender. Is that clear?”

Her words hang in the air, their weight almost suffocating. You hesitate, the gravity of her demand pressing against you. “You…want me to surrender?” The words tumble out before you can stop them, exposing the crack in your resolve.

A flicker of disappointment crosses her face, quick and sharp, like a blade slicing through your hesitation. “Yes.” Her tone is calm, yet there’s an edge to it that leaves no room for misunderstanding. “If you want to work for me, I expect unquestioning compliance.”

She lets the silence stretch, forcing you to absorb the weight of her words, her gaze unrelenting. Then, her expression hardens slightly, and her voice lowers, smooth and controlled. “Do you understand?”

You nod quickly, a flush of heat rising to your cheeks. “Yes, Ms. Cho.”

She pauses, her eyes narrowing further, as if testing your sincerity. Then, with a measured look, she speaks again. “Good. Fetch the bench from the corner.”

The command catches you off guard, but her tone leaves no room for hesitation. You glance around quickly, spotting the object she means. The bench’s design immediately captures your attention—sleek and purposeful, with polished steel legs and padded leather cushions. Its unique height and tilted headrest stand out, clearly crafted with precision, though its exact purpose escapes you. There’s an air of deliberate intent in its construction, as if it was made for something specific, yet unknown to you.

Miyeon’s gaze remains fixed on you as you approach the bench. The weight of her stare makes you hyper-aware of your movements as you grip the sides of the bench and carefully drag it to the center of the room. The polished floor amplifies the sound of the legs sliding into place, each scrape making your pulse quicken. The act feels symbolic, a deliberate display of your compliance, and the tension between you thickens with every passing moment.

When you’ve positioned it where she wants, you glance back at her uncertainty. Her expression remains unreadable, but the faint quirk of her lips suggests satisfaction. She steps closer, her heels clicking softly, the sound echoing in the quiet room.

“Lie down,” she commands, her voice calm yet leaving no room for doubt.

The words catch you again, and you hesitate for a brief moment, your body instinctively stiffening. “Ms. Cho, I—what exactly do you mean by…?”

Her gaze sharpens instantly, silencing you with a single look. Her voice, deceptively soft, cuts through the air like a blade. “Are you questioning me again?” she asks, her tone laced with challenge. “I thought you understood what surrender means. Lie down. Now.”

Her words land with finality, and you feel a flush of shame rise at your hesitation. Swallowing hard, you nod and lower yourself onto the bench, the cool leather pressing against your back as you settle in. The elevated headrest cradles your head, tilting your face upward as though the bench itself is positioning you for her. The chill of the leather seeps into your skin, grounding you in the moment, while the faint scent of her perfume lingers in the air, mingling with the tension that fills the room.

Miyeon steps closer, standing above you, her presence towering, her gaze unbroken. Slowly, deliberately, she reaches down and hikes her skirt up to her hips, revealing toned thighs and the delicate edge of lace. Her movements are smooth, calculated, as if every motion is part of a performance meant to remind you of your place. She slips her panties to the side with practiced ease, her poise never faltering, and positions herself above you.

Her movements are deliberate as she lowers herself onto the bench, aligning her body perfectly with yours. The height of the bench leaves her perfectly positioned—not too low, ensuring her weight presses against you with satisfying firmness, yet not so high that she feels unsupported. The angle of your head allows her to settle fully, her thighs bracketing your face as her warmth and presence close in around you. The air feels thick with her scent—rich, musky, and faintly floral—flooding your senses and leaving your head spinning before she’s even settled fully.

Leaning forward, she braces herself on the bottom of the headrest, her hands naturally finding the spots perfectly molded for her grip. The design seems intentional, as if tailored for this very moment. Her fingers tighten briefly as she steadies herself, her gaze flicking down to meet yours. There’s no softness in her expression, only a sharp, expectant coolness that cuts through the haze clouding your mind.

“Stay still,” she murmurs, her voice calm but carrying the weight of command. The words feel like a seal on the moment, binding you to her expectations. Then, with deliberate ease, she presses down, enveloping you completely.

Your world narrows to her—the pressure, the weight, the intoxicating heat of her body as it moves against you. Tentatively, you extend your tongue, pressing it to her for the first time. Her taste floods your senses, earthy and rich, tinged with the saltiness of her skin. It’s overwhelming, disorienting, but also grounding, her presence completely consuming every thought, every breath. Encouraged by the faint shift of her hips, you try again, moving with more intention. You let your tongue trace slow, deliberate strokes, convinced you’re finding the rhythm she expects.

Her thighs press firmly against your head, creating a perfect seal that traps you beneath her. The leather of the bench beneath you feels immovable, your position leaving you utterly at her mercy. With her weight pressing down, each inhale becomes a struggle, your breaths reduced to shallow pulls of air through your nose—and every one of them is filled with her. Her scent is heady, musky, and floral, a potent blend that seeps into your senses and clouds your thoughts. It feels like you’re breathing her in completely, your lungs filled with nothing but her presence.

Her body feels warm, responsive, as though she’s relaxing against you, her hips beginning to move in slow, deliberate rolls. The grind of her pelvis against your face is measured, controlled, and demanding, and you adjust your movements instinctively, matching her pace. Her thighs tighten subtly around your head, holding you even more firmly in place, leaving no room for error, no room for escape. You feel every shift, every slight increase in pressure, and interpret it as a signal that you’re doing something right.

The faint tension in her breathing seems to deepen, her exhalations growing slightly louder, and you take it as a sign to focus more, to give her exactly what she needs. You adjust your tongue, letting it trace patterns you think she’ll enjoy, responding to the subtle cues in the way her hips shift. Her warmth spreads against you, slick and inviting, and you press more firmly, convinced you’re making progress, that she’s responding to your efforts.

Her scent grows stronger, mingling with the heat radiating from her skin, and you lose yourself in the rhythm she’s setting. Each movement feels purposeful, deliberate, as if you’re aligning perfectly with her desires. Her faint exhalations become the only sound you can hear, soft and measured, a quiet reward that urges you to keep going, to match her pace with precision. Her thighs flex against your head, squeezing slightly, and her hips grind down harder, forcing you to adjust to her increasing demands.

Trapped between her thighs, the pressure becomes all-encompassing, the weight of her pressing down leaving you barely able to think beyond her. Each inhale feels heavier, as though her scent is suffocating you in the most intoxicating way. You pour everything into your movements, your tongue moving in slow, deliberate circles, convinced that her silence is approval, that the steady roll of her hips means you’ve found exactly what she wants.

The seconds stretch into minutes, your efforts intensifying as her body shifts with increasing deliberation. The grind of her hips becomes more insistent, demanding, and you press harder, moving your tongue with more purpose. The pressure of her weight feels all-encompassing, her thighs gripping your head tightly, leaving you immobile, entirely at her mercy. You focus entirely on her, responding to her every movement, certain that you’re meeting her expectations.

Then, you feel it—a subtle, unmistakable slickness spreading against your tongue. It’s warm, intoxicating, and sends a jolt of confidence through you. Her arousal feels like confirmation, a silent acknowledgment that you’re doing something right. You match her movements with renewed focus, interpreting the growing wetness as proof of your success.

But then, without warning, her weight lifts.

The sudden loss of pressure is startling, disorienting, and you blink against the light as your eyes flutter open. The brightness of the room feels blinding, a harsh contrast to the cocoon of warmth and scent you’d been engulfed in. Her essence still lingers heavily in the air, clinging to you, intoxicating, making your head spin like you’ve been drinking something far too strong.

“Wait…” you murmur, the word slipping out unbidden as she rises fully. Without thinking, you push upward, your body instinctively trying to follow hers, desperate to maintain the contact, to hold onto the sensation. You feel drunk, untethered, and you try to lift your head toward her, as if that alone could pull her back down.

But Miyeon moves with calm, dismissive ease, pulling her skirt down and smoothing it into place with the same practiced precision she began with. She steps off the bench, her movements steady and composed, as though what just happened was a passing thought, nothing more than a fleeting interruption.

Her expression remains untouched by the moment, her gaze sharp and appraising as she looks down at you. The cool detachment in her eyes feels like a splash of cold water, banishing the haze that had clouded your mind. The confidence you felt just moments ago evaporates as she folds her arms, her lips pressing into a thin line.

“Time’s up,” she says smoothly, her tone businesslike, almost bored. There’s no emotion, no warmth in her voice, as though she’s closing a meeting rather than commenting on your performance.

You sit up slowly, your body unsteady, your breath uneven as you try to process what just happened. The remnants of her scent and taste cling to you, making your head feel light, dizzy, as though you’re still intoxicated by her presence. Your mind clings desperately to the moments when you thought she was responding—the subtle shifts, the pressing weight of her hips, the slick warmth of her against you. You were so sure you’d succeeded, but the cold finality of her words shatters that illusion.

Miyeon steps back, her expression unchanging as she watches you. Her gaze remains fixed, cool and detached, giving nothing away. The silence stretches, heavy and suffocating, as you wait for her to say something, anything, that might redeem the moment.

But she doesn’t. Her stance, her tone, her movements—all of it makes one thing clear: you’ve fallen short.

Her silence stretches, heavy and oppressive, before she finally speaks.

“You get a C,” she says, her voice unhurried, calm, and somehow all the more cutting for it. Each word lands with surgical precision, slicing through the hope you’d just started to build. Her tone is devoid of emotion, her expression cold and detached, as though grading a forgettable report. “You missed the mark entirely.”

The words feel like a punch, knocking the breath from your lungs. You stare at her, struggling to process, grappling with the sudden weight of failure. “You’re giving me a…C? But I thought—I felt you get wet, Ms. Cho. I thought…”

Her eyes narrow just slightly, enough to silence you before you can finish. The room feels colder as her gaze sharpens, pinning you in place.

“Did you?” she replies, her tone so detached it feels clinical. “Just because my body has natural reactions doesn’t mean you were doing anything remarkable. Don’t confuse basic biological responses with skill.”

Her words hit like ice water, cutting through the fog of your confusion and hope. She takes a step closer, her presence looming, her expression hardening as she begins to dissect your performance with brutal precision.

“Your efforts lacked strength,” she begins, her voice carrying a steely edge. “Your tongue was weak—unfocused. No rhythm, no consistency. I set a pace for you, and you couldn’t even manage that.”

She pauses, letting the words sink in, her critical gaze sweeping over you as though she’s already dismissed you. The weight of her disappointment presses down harder than her thighs ever did.

“And you completely ignored my clit,” she continues, her tone growing colder, harsher, each syllable cutting deeper. “I practically guided you there, made it obvious, yet somehow, you missed the most important part.” Her lips curl into a faint smirk, but there’s no humor in it, only a razor-sharp derision. “I even grinded myself against you, practically handing you the answer, and still, you failed to deliver.”

Her words are relentless, brutal. Each one dissects a flaw you hadn’t even realized, exposing every weak point you thought you’d hidden. It’s as if she’s stripping you down to the core, piece by piece, revealing everything you couldn’t see in yourself.

She takes a measured step back, her voice dropping lower, colder. “The bare minimum,” she says, enunciating each word with icy precision, “is to make me cum. And you couldn’t even come close to doing that.”

The words hit like a hammer, reverberating in the silence that follows. The finality in her tone leaves no room for argument, no possibility for redemption. Her gaze remains fixed on you, sharp and unwavering, her disappointment so palpable it feels like it’s physically crushing you.

“I don’t need someone who merely tries,” she continues, her tone growing colder still, like frost spreading across the room. “I need someone who performs, who instinctively understands what I require without me having to spell it out. Excellence isn’t negotiable in this position.

The words leave you hollow, your confidence shattered under the force of her critique. Each syllable lands with precision, tearing apart every scrap of pride or hope you’d felt during the act. The air feels suffocating, thick with the weight of her disappointment.

“Please, Ms. Cho,” you manage, forcing the words out even as a lump rises in your throat. “Give me another chance. I can do better—I’ll work on everything you said, I’ll improve if you just—”

She raises a hand, cutting you off, her expression turning to stone. The gesture alone silences you, her gaze cold and unrelenting.

“There won’t be another chance,” she states, the words cold and final. “Not here. I don’t invest my time in mediocrity.”

Her dismissal feels absolute. Her attention shifts away from you, as though you’re no longer worth a moment of her time. She steps back to her desk, picking up a pen with the same calm precision she’s shown all evening, and resumes her work without so much as a glance in your direction. The sound of the pen scratching against paper feels deafening in the silence.

“You may leave,” she says coolly, her tone as unyielding as stone. “This position requires skill, precision, instinct—and you’ve shown none of those.”

The words hang heavy in the air, sharp and final, cutting through the silence like a gavel. Your body feels frozen in place, unable to move as the weight of her judgment presses down on you. Slowly, numbly, you rise, your legs unsteady beneath you, your chest tight with the sting of failure.

Each step toward the door feels heavier than the last, your mind replaying her critique with relentless clarity. The sharpness of her dismissal leaves you feeling stripped bare, your confidence shattered completely. You’d thought you’d done well, thought you’d sensed her responding, but her cold, clinical analysis has left no room for doubt. You fell short—entirely.

As you reach the door, you glance back once, hoping for even a flicker of warmth or reconsideration in her expression. But Miyeon’s gaze remains fixed on her paperwork, her focus already shifted, as though you’ve ceased to exist in her world.

You leave, her scent and the weight of her words lingering heavily in the air around you, each step away from her office feeling like another layer of failure pressing down.

The weight of her words settles heavily in the silence that follows, each one lingering in the air like a closing door. You stand, feeling hollow, the sting of failure biting deep. Each step toward the door feels impossibly heavy, as if you’re dragging your very sense of self along with you. Her critique replays in your mind, each cutting line driving the shame and disappointment deeper. By the time you reach the door, her dismissal has stripped you of whatever pride you had left, leaving you exposed and aching with the sting of her judgment.

As you step out of the building, the scent of her perfume still clings to the air around you, subtle but intoxicating. Her taste lingers on your lips, and her piercing gaze haunts your thoughts, replaying again and again with relentless clarity. You can’t stop thinking about every moment, every mistake, every opportunity you missed. Her words echo in your mind, each replay stinging more than the last, but beneath the pain and disappointment, something else lingers—a pull, an inexplicable need.

There’s something magnetic about her, something that refuses to let go. The effortless authority she carried, the way she dismissed you without a second glance—it’s intoxicating, a force that leaves you restless, unsettled. The intensity of her presence lingers, drawing you back even as the humiliation burns. Somehow, you want another chance, not to prove yourself to anyone else but to her—to earn her approval, to be exactly what she demanded.

-----

The morning after that unforgettable Monday encounter with Miyeon, you wake with her still lingering in your mind—her voice, her scent, the calm precision with which she had dismissed you. The memory of her critique, her unyielding detachment, plays over and over, cutting deeper each time. Somehow, she has taken root in your thoughts, filling them in a way you can’t ignore. Her essence lingers—not just a memory but something that feels alive, woven into every corner of your mind, unrelenting and impossible to shake.

The café where you usually spend your mornings feels miles away, though it’s just down the block. Instead of showing up to your shift, you find yourself sitting at your small kitchen table, staring blankly at your phone, waiting for something—anything—that might offer a way forward. The thought of pouring coffee, of going through the motions while she dominates your thoughts, feels unbearable.

By late morning, desperation pushes you to try a respectful, measured call to her office. Yuqi’s voice is professional, polite, and painfully impersonal. You introduce yourself, forcing your tone to stay steady even as urgency tinges every word.

“I wanted to see if Ms. Cho might be open to reconsidering…” you begin, your heart pounding with every syllable. “I know I didn’t meet her expectations, but if I could just speak with her, I’m sure I could—”

“She’s made her decision,” Yuqi replies with finality, her words cool and unyielding. “Ms. Cho has a very clear standard.”

The line goes silent, and you’re left holding the phone, the emptiness pressing down on you like a weight. Your heart sinks, but the idea of giving up feels unbearable. That night, you sit down at your desk, composing an email that takes far longer than it should. Every word feels inadequate, yet you pour your sincerity into each sentence. You admit your mistakes, express your deep respect for her, and humbly ask for another chance. As you hit send, you close your eyes and release a shaky breath, hoping your words will reach her, that she’ll sense your sincerity.

By the next morning, there’s no reply. The café calls to ask if you’re coming in, but you barely register the message. You can’t go back—not yet. The silence from Miyeon feels sharper now, amplifying your anxiety. Without thinking twice, you call her office again. This time, your tone carries a quiet urgency, though you fight to keep it professional.

“I understand Ms. Cho’s standards are high,” you say softly, your voice earnest, almost pleading. “But I know I can meet them. I just need a chance to show her.”

The rest of the day drags, heavy with unanswered questions. As evening falls, you find yourself composing another email, this time rawer, more vulnerable. You lay everything bare—your mistakes, your desire to improve, and just how much this opportunity means to you. With trembling hands, you hit send, feeling both exposed and hopeful.

By midweek, the desperation gnaws at you like a dull ache that refuses to leave. Miyeon has somehow consumed your every thought. Her presence is no longer just a memory—it feels like she’s there, looming in the edges of your mind, controlling your every emotion. Her scent, her voice, her unyielding control—they haunt you in the quiet moments, filling your chest with a weight that grows heavier with each passing day.

You’ve stopped checking your work schedule entirely. The thought of being surrounded by noise and chatter while Miyeon’s critique echoes in your mind is unbearable. It’s as if nothing else matters but reaching her, proving yourself worthy of her attention, her approval.

That afternoon, you decide to go in person. Nerves buzz under your skin as you step into the sleek lobby of Ascend International, the company’s towering headquarters. Yuqi greets you at the desk with a polite but distant smile, her practiced professionalism impossible to crack.

“Hi,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’m here to leave a message for Ms. Cho. I’d like to speak with her if she’s available.”

Her smile doesn’t waver, though there’s a flicker of sympathy in her eyes. “I’ll be sure she receives your message,�� she says with polite finality.

As you walk away, hope mingles with dread. You tell yourself she must know—must feel—how far you’re willing to go to prove yourself. It’s impossible to imagine her being unaware of your persistence, of how deeply she’s embedded herself into your thoughts. Yet the silence continues to gnaw at you, relentless in its clarity.

Thursday passes in a haze. You leave another voicemail, your voice trembling with the weight of your growing need.

“Please,” you say softly, almost whispering into the receiver. “I know I fell short. But if she would just allow me one more chance, I won’t disappoint her.”

The intensity of your plea surprises even you, but at this point, pride is irrelevant. You’d give anything just for the chance to redeem yourself. As you leave the office, you find yourself in the lobby once more, hoping for even the faintest sign of acknowledgment. Yuqi looks at you with that same polite sympathy, her small kindness like a bitter reminder that you’re clinging to something fragile.

By Friday morning, the week’s silence feels unbearable. Every unanswered call, every unread email, weighs on you like a sentence passed. Miyeon’s critique plays in your mind with brutal clarity, her voice sharp and cutting as she dismisses you. It’s as if she left a part of herself with you, tethering you to her, drawing you back no matter how much it stings. You can’t let her go, and yet you fear that every effort has been futile.

Then, just when your resolve begins to waver, your phone rings. The unknown number on the screen sends your pulse racing, and you answer with shaky hands.

“Ms. Cho has agreed to see you,” Yuqi announces, her tone brisk and efficient. “Tonight at 8 p.m. sharp. Do not be late.”

Relief crashes over you like a wave, your heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and gratitude. You’ve been granted another chance—a chance to prove yourself, to rise to her impossible standards. As you hang up, the tension that has consumed you all week begins to dissipate, replaced by a renewed determination. Tonight, everything will change

-----

By 7:30 p.m., you’re pacing in the sleek lobby of Ascend International, nerves thrumming under your skin like a live wire. The building’s towering glass walls reflect the city’s lights, casting long shadows across the pristine marble floor. Yuqi sits at her desk, her posture casual yet poised, her sharp eyes occasionally flicking up to you as you move restlessly.

When the clock hits 7:40, you finally gather the courage to approach her desk. Yuqi’s gaze snaps to you, her lips curving into a faint smirk as she leans forward slightly, her tone light and teasing. “Nervous?” she asks, though it’s clear she already knows the answer.

You nod, swallowing hard. “She’s expecting me,” you manage, trying to keep your voice steady, though it cracks slightly under the weight of your nerves.

Yuqi doesn’t hide her amusement. “Oh, I know,” she replies, her tone bordering on playful, though there’s something sharp beneath it. She taps a perfectly manicured nail against her desk before gesturing toward the elevator. “Same room. You’re cutting it close, so I’d suggest moving quickly. Miyeon’s not known for her patience.”

Her words make your pulse quicken, and you nod quickly, stepping toward the elevator. But just as the doors slide open, Yuqi calls out, her voice dropping into something almost conspiratorial. “Good luck,” she says, a hint of mock pity in her tone. “You’ll need it.”

The elevator ride feels endless, the quiet hum of the machinery doing nothing to calm your racing thoughts. By the time you reach the top floor, your hands are trembling, and a bead of sweat rolls down your temple. You step out into a long, dimly lit hallway, its polished floors gleaming beneath your shoes. The door to Miyeon’s office looms at the end, imposing and unyielding, and you force yourself to move forward, each step heavier than the last.

At exactly 7:45, you’re standing outside Miyeon’s office. The weight of the moment presses down on you, suffocating, as you glance at the sleek double doors. This is it—the culmination of a week spent consumed by thoughts of her, by desperation, by the need to redeem yourself. Her dismissal on Monday has been looping in your mind, relentless and unforgiving, and you’ve been preparing for this moment every second since.

Taking a deep breath, you press your hand to the door and push it open.

The atmosphere inside Miyeon’s office is heavy, almost oppressive. Everything about the space exudes power, from the minimalist decor to the sharp angles of her desk.

Miyeon is seated behind it, her posture as precise as ever, her face unreadable. Tonight, though, there’s a sharpness to her expression, a tension in the way her hands rest on the desk. Her gaze lands on you the moment you step inside, freezing you in place. Her eyes are piercing, cutting straight through any pretense of confidence you’ve tried to muster.

“You’re back,” she says, her voice sharper than you remember, each word clipped and deliberate. The skepticism in her tone slices through the air, leaving no room for pretense. She lets the silence linger, her gaze unrelenting, before she adds, “I suppose you’re here to prove something.”

“Yes, Ms. Cho,” you manage, forcing yourself to stand taller, to appear more confident than you feel. Your voice is steady, but inside, you’re unraveling under her scrutiny. “I’m ready to meet your standards.”

Her lips curl into the faintest smirk, though it holds no warmth. If anything, it feels like a challenge, an unspoken test to see if you’ll falter. She stands slowly, her movements deliberate, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor as she rounds the desk. Every step feels measured, calculated, as if she’s sizing you up all over again.

When she reaches you, her gaze doesn’t waver. She tilts her head slightly, her eyes narrowing as she studies you. “You’ve had an entire week to think about Monday,” she says, her tone cool, almost conversational. “Tell me—what makes you think this time will be any different?”

You swallow hard, the question hitting you like a punch to the gut. “I’ve… I’ve thought about everything you said, Ms. Cho,” you reply, your voice quieter now, but no less determined. “I know I fell short, but I’ve prepared. I’m ready to prove that I can meet your expectations.”

Her eyes flicker, the faintest glimmer of something unreadable passing through them. She doesn’t respond immediately, letting the silence stretch until your nerves feel like they’re about to snap. Then, with a brisk motion, she gestures toward the center of the room.

“Then show me,” she says simply, her voice low but charged with authority. “And don’t waste my time.”

Without needing further instruction, you step toward the corner of the room where the bench waits, sleek and polished under the dim office lights. You retrieve it carefully, its weight familiar in your hands, and position it in the center of the room. The leather gleams, the elevated headrest perfectly angled for what you know is to come, designed to cradle you in place beneath her.

You lower yourself onto the bench, the leather cool and firm beneath you, grounding you as you settle into position. The headrest cradles your head, tilting your face upward in a way that leaves you open, exposed, perfectly aligned beneath her. Your breath quickens as Miyeon steps closer, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor. Each step feels deliberate, each sound echoing the weight of your expectations.

She stops just in front of you, her sharp gaze sweeping over you, calm and detached, as though calculating every detail. Without a word, she slips off her heels and sets them aside. Her fingers move to the hem of her skirt, gathering the fabric upward with fluid grace. Her thighs come into view, smooth and commanding, a contrast of elegance and strength. The edge of her lace panties teases at your vision before she moves them aside with a simple, routine motion.

Her scent—muskier, richer than you remembered—immediately fills the air. It’s overwhelming, a heady blend of something primal and intimate, saturating your senses as she steps forward and positions herself above you. It’s a smell that haunted you this entire week, lingering like an ache in the back of your mind. You’d tried to forget, to push it aside, but nothing could dull the memory of her—the way she consumed you so entirely, only to dismiss you without a second thought. Now, as her warmth radiates above you, it feels like you’re being granted water in a desert, but only if you can prove you’re worthy to drink.

When she lowers herself, her weight presses down fully, engulfing you in her presence. Her thighs press against your cheeks, trapping you completely beneath her. Each shallow breath you manage is filled entirely with her scent, and for a moment, you’re paralyzed by how familiar it feels, how much you’d been craving this. It’s as though the week of rejection, of begging for this chance, has only amplified your hunger. Nothing else could satisfy you but her.

Tentatively, you begin, pressing your tongue to her with slow, cautious strokes. Her taste fills your senses—earthy and rich, tinged with saltiness, intensely familiar and utterly consuming. The longing you’ve carried for days surges forward, and you push past your hesitation, tracing deliberate patterns as you adjust to the faint shifts of her body. Her warmth grows against you, and you focus entirely on her, on the faint signals she gives—the flex of her thighs, the subtle tilt of her hips.

Her breathing remains steady, restrained, and her body feels poised, in control, as if she’s still testing you. You move with more purpose, pressing your tongue more firmly, hoping to draw a reaction, to prove you’ve learned. Her hips begin to move slightly, setting a measured rhythm, and you match it, your tongue tracing careful circles in time with her movements.

Her thighs tighten slightly, holding you in place, and her warmth presses against you more firmly. For a fleeting moment, you think you’re succeeding, that you’re drawing her into the moment. But then, her weight begins to lift.

The change is subtle at first—the brief press of her thighs as they shift upward—but it’s enough to make your heart drop. Her warmth pulls away, leaving a sudden void that feels unbearable. Her expression is faintly impatient as she rises, her movements deliberate, as though confirming what she already suspected: that you’ve failed her again.

A horrible sense of déjà vu washes over you, sharp and unrelenting. The rejection from your first evaluation, the cold detachment in her voice, all come rushing back, amplifying the ache in your chest. The memory of that moment has haunted you all week, and now it feels as though it’s happening all over again. Panic claws at you, raw and immediate.

Her voice cuts through the silence, low and unimpressed. “I see you haven’t learned anything.”

The words slice through you, sharp and final, and desperation surges in their wake. You can’t let her leave—not again. Before she can move further, you reach up, your hands trembling as they find her hips, gently but firmly holding her in place. Your lips brush against her folds, pressing soft, pleading kisses that linger just a moment longer than they should.

“Please, Ms. Cho,” you whisper against her, your voice breaking. “Don’t leave. I know I can do better. Please—just let me try.”

She doesn’t move. You press another kiss to her, slower this time, the desperation in you mounting. “Please,” you murmur, your voice shaking. “I need this. I need to show you. I won’t fail you.”

Another kiss. She doesn’t lower herself, doesn’t speak, and the silence feels crushing. Your kisses grow more frantic, more desperate, your lips trembling as you pour every ounce of pleading into them.

“Don’t go,” you whisper between kisses, your voice cracking with emotion. “Please, Ms. Cho. I’ll do anything—just give me this chance. Let me prove I can please you.”

You press another kiss, and this time it lingers, your lips soft and reverent against her warmth. “Please…” you murmur again, the word barely audible, carrying the weight of everything you’ve felt this past week—the sleepless nights, the ache in your chest, the obsessive need to have this moment again.

For a moment, the air is suffocatingly still. Her body remains poised above you, her thighs tense, her piercing gaze boring into yours, unreadable and unwavering. You’re left hanging, each second dragging painfully as you wait for her to decide if your pleading, your desperation, is enough.

Finally, she shifts, lowering herself back down slowly, deliberately. Her weight settles on you again with a quiet finality, her thighs bracketing your face and trapping you completely beneath her warmth. Her presence floods your senses again, her scent, her taste, her closeness—more consuming now, more intense after nearly losing it.

“Continue,” she says, her tone clipped and cold, leaving no room for hesitation. “This is your last chance.”

Her words settle heavily in the air, fueling your determination. She lowers herself slowly, her weight pressing down on you with deliberate command. Her warmth engulfs you completely, her thighs framing your head, trapping you in place. Her scent surrounds you—intense, musky, and deeply familiar, stirring the longing that had haunted you since her rejection. This is your moment, your chance to prove yourself, and you won’t squander it.

You press your tongue to her carefully at first, savoring the sensation. Her taste floods your senses—earthy, slightly salty, and utterly her. It’s overwhelming, a reminder of everything you’ve been craving since that first evaluation. You move cautiously, tracing along her in slow, deliberate strokes, letting her subtle shifts guide you.

As you work, her hips begin to move slightly, a faint rhythm that you match immediately. You focus entirely on her clit, finding it with purpose and letting your tongue trace precise circles over the sensitive spot. Her body responds subtly at first—a slight flex of her thighs, a faint deepening of her breathing—but then she begins to grind against you, her movements deliberate, setting a demanding pace.

Her thighs tighten around your head, holding you firmly, and her warmth spreads against you as her arousal builds. The faint scent of her grows stronger, more intoxicating with each passing moment. The low sounds that escape her—soft, unrestrained moans—cut through the silence, quiet but impossible to miss. The sound of her pleasure fills you with renewed purpose, driving you to push harder, to make her lose the control she clings to so tightly.

You adjust seamlessly to her movements, your tongue pressing more firmly as her hips set a rhythm that grows more demanding with each passing second. The warmth of her envelops you completely, her scent thick and intoxicating, saturating your senses until nothing else exists. Her thighs flex around your head, tightening their hold, as if to anchor herself against the rising tide of sensation. Every inhale you take is filled with her, each shallow breath a reminder of the position she holds over you.

Her soft moans slip past her lips, each one slightly louder than the last, their restrained nature fraying at the edges. The controlled grace she carried moments ago begins to falter, her movements sharpening as her hips grind against your tongue with increasing insistence. You respond instinctively, letting your tongue trace circles that align perfectly with her pace, adjusting to every subtle cue her body gives.

Her thighs tremble against your cheeks, their strength faltering as the tension in her body builds. The moans grow breathier, tinged with urgency, and her weight presses down more fully, holding you in place beneath her. Her breathing becomes uneven, hitching with every deliberate motion of your tongue as you follow her lead, unrelenting in your efforts to meet her every need.

Suddenly, her movements grow erratic, the control she held so tightly slipping entirely. Her body tenses above you, her thighs clenching tightly around your head, cutting off your world to everything but her. A sharp, shuddering moan escapes her lips, low and unrestrained, the sound raw and involuntary. Her hips press down fully, grinding against your tongue with forceful, almost frantic motions, riding the crest of her climax.

Her body tightens completely, trembling violently as wave after wave of pleasure overtakes her. You remain steady beneath her, your tongue moving with careful persistence, guiding her through every pulse, drawing out each lingering sensation. Her knuckles whiten as her grip on the head rest tighten, her breaths coming in short, uneven gasps.

For a long moment, she remains like that—tense, trembling, pressing herself fully against you as the final shudders of release course through her. Only when her body begins to relax does her grip loosen, her thighs softening their hold on your head. Even then, you don’t stop entirely, your movements gentle now, offering a last, tender caress as her breathing begins to steady once more.

Her breathing slows as her movements begin to still, her weight easing slightly as she lifts herself just enough to create space. But as her warmth pulls away, a thought flashes through your mind: this isn’t enough. You can’t just meet her expectations—you need to surpass them.

Sliding your hands up, you let your palms glide over the curve of her hips, steadying her as you adjust her position slightly. Your fingers trail downward, curling firmly to grab handfuls of her cheeks. The sensation of her soft skin under your hands is electrifying, and you feel the tension in her body shift as you grip her firmly. You spread her open with care, creating the perfect angle to access her most sensitive, tightest spot. It’s a bold move—one she hasn’t guided you to, one she hasn’t even hinted at—but you know you need to take this risk. You have to make yourself unforgettable.

With deliberate intent, your tongue traces lower, teasing the sensitive curve of her entrance before pressing further, exploring the tight ring of her ass. The sensation is new, unexpected, and her reaction is immediate.

Her body jolts slightly, her hips lifting momentarily in surprise as a sharp, breathy gasp escapes her lips. For a split second, your heart races, unsure if you’ve overstepped. But then her hips press back down against you, a reflexive movement that tells you everything you need to know. Her thighs tremble against your cheeks as her weight shifts fully onto your face, and the tension in her body gives way to something rawer, more unrestrained.

Her moans begin to spill freely now, soft and breathy at first, slipping past the tight control she holds so carefully. The sound fuels you, driving you to press deeper, to let your tongue move in slow, deliberate circles over her most sensitive areas. Her grip on the desk falters as her hips grind harder against you, her movements growing more erratic, more demanding.

You alternate between her ass and her folds, moving with seamless precision. Your tongue delves deeply, savoring her, while your nose brushes against her slick warmth with each shift. Her hips jerk, grinding against your face as though her body can’t decide which sensation to crave more. The weight of her bears down heavily, leaving you struggling for air, but all you can think about is her. Every detail—the way her thighs tighten around your head, the faint tremble in her muscles, the unrestrained sounds spilling from her lips—it consumes you entirely.

Her thighs shift slightly, and then, with a deliberate motion, she lifts her legs off the floor, letting her entire weight press fully onto you. The headrest beneath you creaks slightly, adjusting to the added pressure as she settles in, trapping you completely beneath her. The shift is overwhelming, her body sinking into yours entirely, her warmth and slickness engulfing your senses. Each shallow breath you manage is filled with her scent, and the sensation is intoxicating.

Your hands tighten on her cheeks, spreading her wider as you focus entirely on her ass. You let your tongue explore deeply, pressing into her with slow, deliberate strokes, circling and teasing the sensitive area with unrelenting purpose. Her body tenses above you, her thighs trembling violently as her breathing turns ragged and uneven. Each exhale is sharp, shaky, and punctuated by guttural moans that grow louder and less restrained as she begins to lose control.

Her hips grind down against your face, her rhythm faltering, her movements desperate. Her breathing becomes erratic, catching with each flick of your tongue, until the sounds spilling from her lips dissolve into broken gasps. The pressure of her weight presses down harder, and her thighs clamp around your head with such force that it feels like she’s grounding herself entirely in you, refusing to let you go.

Her body begins to quake above you, losing all rhythm as her hips move erratically, chasing the sensations building within her. Her breathing stutters sharply, and then, with one raw, unrestrained cry—the loudest, most primal moan you’ve ever heard from her—her climax overtakes her.

Her entire body shudders violently, her hips grinding down fully, pressing you deeper into the headrest as she rides out wave after wave of intense pleasure. Her slick wetness spills onto your face, warm and undeniable, marking the raw power of her release. The sensation spurs you on, your tongue moving with soft but purposeful strokes, coaxing every last tremor from her body.

Her thighs quiver uncontrollably, gripping your head like a vice as she rides through the overwhelming storm of her climax. Each moan spills from her lips in sharp, uneven bursts, her control shattered entirely. Her grip on the headrest tightens, her knuckles white, as though anchoring herself against the intensity of the moment.

You can feel her unraveling completely, her body vibrating with aftershocks that seem to go on forever. Her weight remains heavy on you, holding you in place as she takes in shallow, ragged breaths, her body still trembling with the echoes of her release. Even as her movements begin to slow, her thighs remain locked around you, as though she’s reluctant to let go of the sensation. Every ounce of her focus is still on you, every ounce of yours entirely on her.

Finally, her body begins to relax. Her breathing slows, and her thighs loosen their hold, trembling slightly as she lifts herself off you with deliberate care. Her legs are unsteady as she straightens, smoothing her skirt with the practiced precision you’ve come to expect. Her breathing is still uneven, her chest rising and falling as she regains her composure.

For a moment, she stands there silently, her gaze heavy and unreadable as it lingers on you. The scent of her, the taste of her, clings to you, saturating your senses entirely. The room feels charged, her presence commanding even in stillness. You dare not assume anything—she’s still the one in control, and any sign of approval must come from her. Yet, in the weight of her silence, you can’t help but feel that you’ve done something right.

Her chest rises and falls evenly as she regains her composure, her expression remaining as poised and inscrutable as ever. You think you’ve proven yourself, think you’ve risen to her exacting standards, but the thought lingers, unspoken, as you wait. Every second stretches, heavy with anticipation, until finally, she speaks.

“Well done,” she murmurs, her tone softer than usual but still carrying that commanding edge. The weight of her approval lands squarely on you, and a quiet sense of pride begins to unfurl in your chest. Then, with a slight glance back at you, her lips curve in what could almost be a smile—subtle, fleeting, but unmistakable.

“Bold,” she says, her tone as measured as ever, but there’s a hint of something beneath it—impressed. “Unexpected, but… effective.”

The words hit you like a wave, filling your chest with pride, though you keep your expression neutral, refusing to let the satisfaction show too openly. Still, the acknowledgment lingers, affirming that your risk wasn’t just noticed but appreciated.

“Report here Monday morning,” she continues briskly, her tone returning to business. “You’ve earned your place.”

Her words hang in the air, settling over you like a blanket of relief. You don’t let the triumph show too openly, knowing she’s still watching you, but a quiet sense of accomplishment blooms within. She turns away, stepping back toward her desk with deliberate, unhurried movements, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floor. The sound carries finality, a subtle dismissal, but also an acknowledgment of what you’ve achieved.

You remain where you are for a moment, your chest rising and falling as you catch your breath, her scent and taste still vivid, still clinging to you. The weight of her words settles warmly over you—a victory hard won, a moment of validation you’ll carry with you. You’ve proven yourself tonight, but you know better than to assume it’s enough. This is only the beginning.

A faint trace of satisfaction flickers across her face as she glances at you one last time, her gaze lingering briefly before returning to her work. With an elegant nod, she dismisses you, her attention already shifting back to her desk.

Carefully, you rise, your legs unsteady from the intensity of the moment. Before leaving, you reach for the bench, the familiar weight grounding you as you lift it and carry it back to its original place in the corner of the room. The small act feels significant, almost ceremonial, as though returning it to its spot closes this chapter of the evening. Once it’s in place, you step back, sparing a glance at Miyeon, who is already engrossed in her work, her demeanor as composed as ever.

Each step toward the door feels deliberate, carrying the weight of everything it took to earn this moment. As you leave her office, the memory of her words—and her body—lingers in your mind, a reminder of what you’ve achieved and what’s still expected of you.

The quiet buzz of the building greets you as you exit, a stark contrast to the intensity of the room you just left. The evening air feels cooler, crisper, as you step outside, but the warmth of her approval stays with you. Miyeon’s words echo in your mind, solidifying the pride swelling in your chest.

“Bold. Unexpected, but effective.”

Those words, more than anything, stay with you, reminding you of the risks you took and the reward you earned. Monday will bring new challenges, but for the first time, you feel fully prepared to meet them. You’ve been given a chance to prove yourself again, and you’re determined to exceed every expectation.

-----

Back in the office, after the door softly clicks shut, Yuqi steps inside and leans against the frame, arms crossed and a smirk on her lips. “Alright, spill,” she teases. “What’s the deal? You actually allowed a second chance? I thought that wasn’t your thing.”

Miyeon glances up from her desk, amusement flickering in her eyes. “Oh, please. I knew from the start I was going to,” she says smoothly. “There was potential. I just needed to see it under the right conditions.”

Yuqi raises an eyebrow, the smirk widening. “So the whole week of calls and emails? You’re telling me that wasn’t just for your entertainment?”

A faint smile curves Miyeon’s lips as she leans back in her chair. “Maybe I enjoyed it,” she admits. “But desperation does something extraordinary—it strips away everything unnecessary. What’s left is either weakness or strength.”

“You and your tests,” Yuqi mutters, shaking her head with a laugh. “You could’ve just brought it up on Monday.”

“That wouldn’t have shown me what I needed to see,” Miyeon replies with a knowing glance. “Pressure reveals everything. It’s like a diamond—only the right conditions bring it out.”

“Wow,” Yuqi says, stepping forward to nudge Miyeon’s shoulder lightly. “Soft-hearted Cho strikes again. Admit it, you like a little drama.”

Miyeon chuckles, her tone turning playful. “Only when the effort is worth watching.”

“Noted,” Yuqi replies, heading for the door with an exaggerated wave. “Don’t worry, I’ll mark this historic event down. Second chances with Miyeon Cho—they’re like spotting Bigfoot. Rare and highly debated.”

Miyeon shakes her head, unable to suppress a laugh. “Get out of here, Yuqi.”

Yuqi grins, pausing at the door. “Hey, if you get bored over the weekend, you know where to find me. Or maybe I’ll just swing by Monday with popcorn to watch the show.”

Miyeon points to the door, her expression feigned exasperation. “Out.”

“Fine, fine,” Yuqi says, throwing her hands up in mock surrender before slipping through the door with a grin. “Don’t get too sentimental on me, boss.”

As the door closes behind her, Miyeon’s smile lingers. Her gaze drifts back to the now-empty space, thoughtful yet satisfied. She had known all along what could be achieved, but sometimes the right kind of desperation was the key. Pressure, determination, and grit—it all had to surface naturally, and it had.

With a quiet exhale, she turns back to her desk, already contemplating the days ahead with a sense of certainty.

#kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop smut #girl group smut #kinkvember #kinkvember 2024 #gidle #gidle smut #gidle cho miyeon #gidle miyeon #gidle cho miyeon smut #cho miyeon #cho miyeon smut #gidile miyeon x reader #cho miyeon x reader #miyeon #miyeon smut #miyeon x reader

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jesuistrestriste · 6 months ago

Note

Calling Art ‘Artemis’ in public while out with a group of friends and he gets hard IMMEDIATELY. desperately trying to his it from the other while he whimpers from the lack of friction..

i’m literally losing it my god #ovulating (also sorry for spamming your asks all the time)

venus real as fuck.

like you’re out with art and a handful of other tennis players at some catered banquet, gathered around a table and conversing casually. neither of you really know these individuals; it’s all small-talk, and polite smiles, and laughing at the right times.

you’re sat right next to the blonde, and he’s engaged in what-seems-to-be an interesting conversation. your knee knocks his, but it doesn’t do much except make his breath catch subtly for a moment. and then he’s back to talking.

you talk with some others at the table, and then a hostess arrives with an anticipatory smile and opens her notepad. “what can i get for everyone?”

the others order, going around the circle, and then it gets to you before it gets to art.

you hum, looking over the menu of different expensive wines and luxurious dishes, and you sigh. your eyes pour over the options. your knee bumps art’s again, and he jolts slightly in his seat.

“what are you thinking, Artemis?”

everyone at the table looks to the man next to you, completely confused. artemis? no, that’s art. what’s going on?

but art knows what’s going on. he looks to you, a whine bubbling up in his throat that he has to swallow down as his cheeks tint a bright red up to his ears. his real, full name was something you were only supposed to use against him in the bedroom.

not in public. not here.

and because the only other times he’s heard it come out of your mouth have been when you were praising him or telling him he had permission to come, his cock starts to involuntarily swell in his dress pants.

he shakes his head and clears his throat as he tries to push down the nervousness and arousal that he assumes is as clear as day on his face.

“i— i don’t know yet, im still deciding,” he says to you, an embarrassed chuckle spilling forth.

you smile at him softly, innocently, and nod.

now his knee is pushing against yours under the tabletop, harder than you had tapped his minutes prior, and you know he’s silently begging for you to do something.

he shifts in his seat, basically writhing, and his breathing falters. the person sitting on the opposite side of him gives him a funny look like ‘this dude has ants in his fuckin’ pants’, but they remain oblivious to the pulsing boner art has fully popped in his clothing. poor guy.

Artemis, Artemis, Artemis.

it rings through his skull, in your voice, as he sits there and waits for you to order so that he can do the same. he wants this whole fiasco to be over so that he can excuse himself, stand up from his chair, cover the tent in the front of his pants, and wobble his way to the public bathrooms to take care of himself.

he’d curse you out if he could, but he’s too busy squirming in his seat against the hot pleasure starting to bubble in his lower abdomen. no, it’s boiling now. his shaft rubs against the inside of his boxers in the wrong way, and the smallest of noises leaves his lips.

you’re evil.

#🩷 - thirsts #venusssss YES #ovulation is a curse i feel like a rabid dog #i just reread ur ask and realize u said group of friends ahh #but imagine if it was like this and no one knew art and suddenly he’s all red and squirmy like OHHH #if this happened around patrick i think he would never let art live it down #art donaldson smut #art donaldson x reader #sage’s asks #💌 - mutuals

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vintagepromotions · 3 months ago

Text

Cover of the menu of the luxury ocean liner SS Roma, featuring a frog playing a lute (1937).

#vintage menu #dining #ss roma #frog #lute #music #musical instrument #food #menu #1930s

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r0-boat · 7 months ago

Text

Feast fit for a king(s)

Whb!Beelzebub x Gn!reader x Bael

Cw: double penetration, over stimulation, mentions of Beel x Bael.

Sorry for the silence for a couple of days This is what I was working on! Aaaa

You're supposed to be in Abyssos for sightseeing however Beelzebub had other things in mind for you. At a 5 Star hotel in Abyssos famous for luxurious exciting fun and sexual themes It was a hotspot for lovers too 'rest and relax' well they have a little fun whether it be in bed or down at the lobby to gamble, play games and drink till their hearts content.

You were in bed in the nicest suite Beelzebub has gotten, naked as the day you were born Your body sore from the amount of bite marks and bruises Your legs even more so. And there he was the man who did this to you laying in bed smoking a cigarette. It was almost comical how full of energy he was. Hugging into your soft pillow you glanced at him as he reached for a pamphlet with the menu of the food That can be brought up to the room. You would hate that man if he wasn't so darn cute.

Just then the hotel door burst open, guessing that Beel forgot to lock the door You scramble to cover your body while Beelzebub didn't bother He smiled "Bael! What a pleasant surprise!"

There he was the fake king and advisor for Abyssos He was pissed off and exhausted from trying to locate Beel whereabouts he finally got a lead on this location.

"YOU!" He yelled pointing at the king who was now standing out of bed naked with a cat like smirk holding up his hands as he was caught red-handed, looks like he wasn't going to escape this time... "I'VE BEEN LOOKING-" He choked on his words when he saw you peeking out of the blanket your bare chest barely visible. "!! You-! Oh dear I'm-" finally his brain connected the dots both you and his king are naked in bed together He flushed red tearing his eyes away from you. Looking at the scene of his dear friend and normally straight lace subordinate fall apart at the mere sight of your naked body an idea came into his mind.

He knew just how big Bael crush on you was, all demons in Abyssos wanted you but Bael... He had it bad. And what kind of friend would he be if he didn't give him a little 'push'

"come now my dear brother." He said in a sing-song tone a tone that made Bael narrow his eyes. "You didn't miss anything, why don't you come join us?"

Your eyes widen at his suggestion, after he just drilled you into the mattress?!

"Beelzebub!" You silently shrieked to get his attention. You don't even think you could even walk right now how the fuck can you take more?!

But your protest came on deaf ears.

"relax delicious it's not for me" He crawls onto the bed removing the sheets from your hands, he grabs you by the waist lifting you up pressing your back against his chest.

His hands slide under to play with your now naked parts your body still sensitive from your previous actions.

Beelzebub was masturbating you in front of Bael! Bael's looked hesitant but his eyes were trained on you. Bael looked just as hungry as the king of gluttony touching you, Your legs shook threatening to close but he held them still. You wanted to protest, but Beelzebub's skilled fingers was making your mind melt.

"come on, Bael. You must be tired. You came all this way here. Why don't you 'rest'?" His words husky, thick, and smooth like molasses as his fingers continue to play with you, slowly stroking every part of you, occasionally pressing into your hole to tease Bael. Your cute little whimpers as you were too sensitive and tired to hold them back. You can tell the teasing was working, seeing the tight bulge in Bael's pants.

Bael gave in. Demons cannot resist temptation after all; his eyes half, half-lit and full of lust, made your heart leap out of your stomach as he slowly stalked closer to you. Bael took over as Beel stopped touching you. Bael's hands replaced his; his breath was shaky as he lay down to kiss you. His kiss was messy and full of desire, kissing you more and more feverishly as he began ripping off his own clothes, no longer caring about what he was supposed to be doing before; all that mattered was having you right here, right now.

Beel not wanting to be left out on all the fun lean down and kissed your neck. Now with two hands on either side of your legs he holds you open for Bael to lower his head down.

You are falling apart in their arms, Your whole body shuttered, whimpering and moaning as you felt Bael tongue against your hole.

Beel smiled, moving his hands to spread you further apart for his friend to 'eat' you.

One taste, and he was addicted, pressing his entire face against you, eager to tongue fuck you.

"taste good, right?" Beel said Bael could only moan in agreement, not wanting apart from you for even a second.

You thought just Beelzebub's tongue was long. You threw your head back as you felt Bael's tongue begin to worm inside you, long and flexible as it was eager to go deeper.

As if Beelzebub read your mind his voice tickled your ear.

"All demons in Abyssos have long tongues, Long tongues means more to taste."

You came. Bucking your hips against Bael's face as you grab onto his 'crown.' His eyes rolled back as you come on his tongue; it's been so long since he had tasted cum; it's been so long since he had been touched. He couldn't help but cum with you, his horn squirting all over your hand and his cock emptying all over the sheets.

Beel, who had been watching, finally had enough. His cock was twitching against your back, and he needed you. Beelzebub quickly overwhelmed you, not giving you a mere moment of rest before easing his cock inside you. Beel looked over at a cum soaked Bael with a sly smile.

Bael know exactly what he wants.

Bael climbed on top of you, his lips claiming yours once again. You didn't even know what was about to happen to you until you felt his dick press against Beel's and your already stuffed entrance.

"W-wait! Wait! So full! It can't fit!"

You panic trying and failing to form sentences correctly with cock already inside you.

Bael having only one thing on his mind, to be inside of you, couldn't even hear you. As Beel was whispering, "Aww, come on, of course, you can take it. You've been so good taking me. You can have one more cock."

Beel once again used his fingers to stretch you open, helping his best friend ease it inside you.

Beel felt Bael's cock against him, a feeling he hadn't felt in such a long time; his eyes rolled back, trying to hold back from bucking inside you.

How long has it been since Bael had been inside someone? He had forgotten what it felt like for someone to squeeze and milk cock. And now he was filling you up almost completely with His best friend's dick also inside you...

Bael's final threat of self-control, if it wasn't broken, already shattered. Grabbing your hips, he rammed into you. All the stress from paperwork, his carnal feelings about you that he kept so desperately deep inside, and the greedy loss he had to control in favor of running a country finally came to the surface. As he fucked you and Beelzebub, until whimpering moaning mess.

Even Beel could not keep up with his friend. His hands were shaking, his nails digging into your ass as he tried to gain any speed other than pathetically humping, humping, and grinding hard and deep.

Bael has folded you in half, your legs over his shoulders, trying to keep them apart as they threaten to squeeze his head. Your toes curling, you try to move, squirm, buck, and do anything. But you are being held in place, by two men. Sandwiched by two demons, getting treated as nothing more than a sex toy for these two demons.

You already knew what it takes to satisfy Beelzebub now that you have two demons with a voracious sexual appetite. You had no idea how long you would be in this bed.

#smut #whb beelzebub #whb bael #whb x reader #what in hell is bad #whb #wihib #whb abyssos #what in “hell” is bad?

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strawberryblue-blog · 2 months ago

Note

could you do a smut where ruben x reader are at a Man City dinner and he starts touching her under the table

Bad girl —Ruben Dias.

summary: request.

warnings: yes. +18. smut, public fingering, etc.

words count: +1.5k

The evening was going on with warmth as conversation flowed easily among those present. Tonight you had come to dine at a luxurious restaurant in Manchester with the teammates of your boyfriend, Ruben Dias, who was laughing next to you as he commented something with Bernardo. It was a splendid night, everyone was happy to close a new year and finally be able to rest. The other girls and girlfriends were also laughing and talking about things.

Next to you, Jack and Sasha were joking about the name they were going to give to their baby, who was supposed to be born at the end of the month. Everyone was attentive to the details of her birth, even you were excited to meet the little one. Your relationship with all of them was magnificent, they were wise and educated women, hardworking and independent and you admired them very much.

The table is decorated with an ivory linen tablecloth, silver cutlery and cut crystal goblets reflecting the dim light of the chandelier. A small floral arrangement, discreet but exquisite, adorns the center. In front of you, the first glass of champagne is already poured, bubbling with an elegance that seems to permeate the atmosphere.

The sommelier approaches to recommend a special wine that harmonizes with the seven-course tasting menu. Each course was a work of art, a caramelized scallop on a mirror of black butter, followed by a wagyu carpaccio with pearls of white truffle. As you take a sip of the wine, an aged Merlot from a limited vintage, you feel the flavor melt in perfect sync with the dish.

The conversation continued as time went by, talking about trips you dream of taking, ambitious projects and shared memories that make you laugh. You felt confident, amused and excited, though a little heated by the recent hand on your thigh.

Ruben had held it there for the entire time as you made after-dinner conversation, his skin soft against yours. Although you tried to ignore it and act like it wasn't happening, your body was beginning to feel self-conscious from Ruben's touch. He knew exactly how to make your hair stand on end and make you feel needed and wanted.

You were wearing an innocent white silk dress, which draped over your figure, your legs were somewhat (a lot) uncovered, showing your skin but they were covered enough by the table so that no one could see too much. However, Ruben seemed to have all your attention on you, especially on your thigh.

You sighed as his fingers caressed your exposed skin, contouring figures on your thigh, as if seeking to get your attention. His perfume, a pure sweet scent, made you feel a little dizzy. But you paid it no mind as you continued to talk to Sasha.

His fingers squeezed your thigh and made you jump in place, watching him out of the corner of your eye as Ruben smiled slyly at you. Again, his fingers slipped further inside, caressing you. You placed your hand over his and ran it, giving him a quick glance to read the intent in his bright eyes. When you were distracted again, listening to Ines talk about Carlota and some advice to Sasha, Ruben's hand returned to your skin. Warm and ticklish. You hid your smile as you stirred in place when his hand moved in, unintentionally (or unwillingly) brushing against your black panties.

A wave of heat shot through your back as his fingers stroked up and down your slit, playing with you. You froze, the voices echoing in your head and fading as your breath hitched. You blinked as Ruben moved closer to you, resting his lips against your ears before whispering.

"You're already wet and ready for me" he murmured slowly making you bristle.

How could you not be? On the way out of the restaurant, he had slapped your ass, he had kissed you in the car, he had been making a jealous scene when you got to the restaurant. Ruben had been more annoying (in a good way) than usual. And you knew it was because of your dress. He wanted to have you but it wasn't the time.

You disguised it with a smile, as if he had said something funny to you and looked around seeing that no one was really paying attention but embarrassment consumed you. Yes. You were damn wet. Even with just one touch.

Ruben moves away from you again but his hand is still between your legs, this time, he circles your inner thigh and caresses it gently, looking to make you melt. You swallow saliva trying to hide that your breathing has accelerated and nod towards the girls who continue talking and telling their experiences.

His fingers slip into your center again, stroking your slit again, up and down, over and over. Moisture begins to cling to the lacy fabric and Ruben can feel how wet you are through the thin fabric. Damn. His smile widens and you can see him out of the corner of your eye as you squirm under his touch.

"That's for not listening to me, bad girl" he whispers as he comes close to your ear again. "I'll punish you so bad you'll be begging me to fuck you in that dress while I rip it off your body."

He had been insisting all night that your dress was too revealing tonight and that he was going to punish you. But touching you in front of his mates and your girlfriends? He was crazy! Besides it was no big deal, it was just a milk white silk dress that contoured your figure with a slit up one leg and a pretty plunging neckline but covered all that was necessary. Yes, maybe a little risqué for tonight but you liked it and the girls had encouraged you to wear it tonight.

Anyone looking at you right now might think you were innocently whispering like most couples here tonight, though it was quite the opposite.

Under the table, Ruben's hand was still caressing your clothed center making room inside your panties as he ran it to the side. The heat in your belly tightened and you almost let out a gasp but concealed it by sipping from your cup. He caressed your entrance, stimulating the area, spreading your juices all over your center. A small touch on your clit made you jump out of place and bite your lip hiding a moan.

This was torture. Every pore of your body burned, Ruben's fingers kept playing with you while you were engaged in dissimulation and fake smiling when what you wanted was Ruben to fuck you hard and hot. But you try to inhale and exhale in search of calming your gasps.

But his fingers keep caressing your lips, applying some pressure on your twitching button. He's determined to play with you and you won't be able to stop him and you're really thankful that everyone is busy enough with their conversations and drinks. Because when one of his fingers digs deep inside you, you turn to Ruben and your eyes roll back in pleasure. Ruben moves closer and you lean on his shoulder, dissimulating as another of his fingers penetrates you and he begins to move it, slow and torturous. This is so pleasurable and embarrassing.

Sweat begins to trickle down your back and your nipples grow hard against your hidden bra and ache, in need of attention. In need of Ruben's lips.

You want to scream and you want his fingers to fuck you hard but all you get is a slow, deep movement, leaving you trembling. You squirm in your seat, spreading your legs wider so that his fingers touch your bottom, making room in your tight, hot walls. His thumb caresses your clit and you begin to feel the pressure in your belly, driving you wild.

It's a fucking punishment. You can't even enjoy it properly, you're worried that no one is watching, pretending how to endure it and trying not to make a fuss. Because if anyone found out, it would definitely be a scandal. But Ruben doesn't seem to give a shit because his three fingers are still pumping inside you, he's unperturbed as if nothing will happen with his smile as he finger fucks you.

You're a mess. Letting yourself go in pleasure as waves of heat lunge against your body and your legs tremble as you feel your orgasm close. His fingers stay there, inside you, wet with your wetness as he smiles and you sigh for calm.

Your chest burns, your vision blurred and your head dazed. You are so close, so close that you feel the fire inside you. Your eyes threatened to close and you want to scream as you are about to orgasm but suddenly everything stops.

The pleasure. The heat. The feeling.

It stopped.

Ruben removed his fingers from your center, leaving a void inside you. Leaving you on the edge of pleasure. Cutting off your orgasm.

The pressure seems to drop in your system, like a bucket of cold water you are in shock, still feeling the spasms in your body. You swallow saliva looking for some sanity when your gaze goes to his.

He says nothing but you understand everything. He is playing with you and his words are sacred to Ruben.

He will make you beg until you die for him.

#football imagines #imagine #football one shot #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias smut #ruben dias imagine #ruben dias one shot #ruben dias #manchester city #man city

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allywthsr · 1 year ago

Text

I‘LL NEVER LEAVE YOU | (l.norris)

part two to Finding Lando on Raya

summary: part two to Finding Lando Norris on Raya, how you spend the evening, flying to Spa for tire testing and a date in the evening

wordcount: 9.8k words

pairing: landonorris x fem!reader

warnings: SMUT! (p in v, oral, taking pictures while doing it)

notes: sorry for the delay, but I was kinda blocked! The end feels rushed, but I genuinely didn’t know what to write, sorry. Anyway, second smut so be gentle. And thank you for all the positive feedback!!!!❤️‍🩹

”You want to order some McDonald’s and stay over?“

You looked at Lando, how could he be so perfect? Only minutes ago he was buried deep inside of you and now he was a sweet angel.

”Sure!“

He grabbed his phone from his night table and opened Uber Eats.

”What do you wanna eat?“

You named him your go-to McDonald’s order and he chose a chickenburger menu.

”It should come in like twenty minutes. Enough time to repeat what we just did.“

”Let’s eat first, you tired me out, two orgasms are more than men normally become out of a woman.“

”I‘m just a pro, what can I say.“

You shoved his shoulder playfully and he laid down next to you. He opened his arm and you laid your head on his naked shoulder, pulling up the duvet to cover you both. He slowly caressed your shoulder with his fingers.

”So where are you from, Y/N?“

”I was born in Y/H/N and moved to London two years ago for this job. I meet new customers that want to buy some products from us.“

”Do you travel a lot?“

”Not really. Every now and then, yes. But mostly I meet them in London in our office. But tell me, what’s it like being a Formula One driver? Is it as luxury as it always looks like?“

”Sometimes, I mean we get to stay in fancy hotels and whatnot, but it’s hard work as well. The G-forces your whole body has to resist are heavy, so we need to train a lot, I hate it so much, you have no idea. The traveling is also tiring. I hate being away from my family and friends so much, but at the same time, I have more free time than you probably have. But that free time is mostly filled with training, it’s rare I have two weeks off in a row.“

”I get that, but it’s still your hobby, no? I can imagine that having your hobby as a job is the best thing.“

”That’s true, but I don’t know, I‘m super happy and grateful to be where I am but at the same time, sometimes I‘d like to have more privacy. It’s always dangerous for me to hit up women because they could always post it on social media and I‘m the asshole you know. Or when I’m in Monaco, I can’t go out with a woman, she‘s immediately my girlfriend. My cousin once visited me and she got death threats afterwards. That’s not nice. But it comes with being a ’celebrity‘ I guess.“

When he said celebrity he did quotation marks in the air.

”So you meet up with a lot of women?“, you asked him jokingly.

”I poured my heart out and that’s the only thing that stuck in your pretty head?“, he let out a laugh.

”But don’t worry, I never had such a pretty and nice girl before, you‘re truly special. Not one of them wanted to eat McDonald’s with me, claiming they‘re gonna be fat afterwards.“

”Don’t worry, I was just kidding. I can’t say I know what you’re feeling, because I don’t. I can wander through London and no one asks me for a picture, but I imagine it to be hard. Having no privacy I mean. But if you ever want to talk, you know who to call. And whoever turns down a free McDonald’s meal is just stupid. Especially if you have such a hot man next to you.“

You put your hand on his chin, caressing it, where a slight stubble grew.

”I actually don’t know who to call, I don’t even have your number yet. I’ve been inside of you and don’t even know what your profile picture looks like.“

You smiled up at him and chuckled.

”We can change that later, I‘m too comfortable right now“, you pressed a kiss on his neck.

”You said something about Pirelli tire testing earlier?“

”Yeah, tomorrow in Spa. I drive around the circuit in different cars and my F1 car, testing possible new tires.“

”Oh really? That’s fun.“

”You should come.“

”Isn’t that something only people from the team can attend?“

”You can sit in my garage, that’s fine.“

”Lando we barely know each other.“

”And? I like you, I think that you like me. Come as a friend, I won’t say you’re my fuck friend.“

You chuckled at that. But should you? What if people see you somewhere because someone posts it and you get the same treatment his cousin got?

”Won’t there be paparazzi?“

”No, at least not that I know of. It’s only an event for included people, it’s not even publicly announced.“

”But still, won’t it be weird?“

”Let’s get to know each other then, I won’t be weird.“

”Are you sure? I‘m just the girl you fucked because you needed it.“

”Y/N, you’re a human, not an object I am using. If you wouldn’t have stuck out to me, I wouldn’t have liked you. I would’ve never texted you.“

You stayed silent, didn’t know what to answer. Only your hand went to his neck and fondled it, wanting to show your affection somehow.

”What’s your favorite color?“

”Really?“, you chuckled.

”Answer it, then we won’t be strangers anymore and you can come tomorrow.“

”I like a light blue, but it changes. You?“

”I like a neon yellow, like the color on my helmet. Favorite ice cream flavor?“

You told him your favorite ice cream flavor and you asked him the same question.

”Vanilla Ice cream, classic.“

”Favorite Holiday?“

”I love Christmas, I get to spend most time with my family, and also presents. Yours?“

”Must be Christmas as well. I love it when everything is gloomy and stuff.“

”You‘ve ever been on a yacht?“

”No, I’d love to, but I‘m not rich.“

”Want to come with me on holiday?“

”Lando.. it’s the same with tomorrow. I can’t just go on your family holiday with you.“

”Why not?“

”Because I‘m not your girlfriend or something.“

”Want to be my girlfriend?“

You scoffed and sat up, ”You need to calm down.“

”I was just kidding. I‘m leaving in a week, but we still have enough time to get to know each other. Consider it. You‘re different, I can feel it.“

”Let me think about it.“

”Take all the time you need, but I before our flight takes off I need to know.“

”I need to buy a plane ticket then.“

”No, we‘re flying with a private jet, we still have a few seats left.“

”Boujee, I see.“

”I am collaborating with a brand, so I don’t have to pay anything.“

”That’s even more Boujee!“, you laughed.

”Well, we could join the mile hig-”

Before Lando could finish the sentence, it knocked on the door. He jumped out of bed and pulled his Boxershorts, which lay somewhere on the floor up to his hips. When he opened the door, a hotel employee stood in front of it, holding a brown bag.

”Sir, you ordered from McDonalds, is that correct?“

”Yes it is.“

”Then here you go, bon appetit!“

”Cheers!“

Lando closed the door and walked back to the bed, where he sat down and opened the back, giving you your food while he laid his‘ down in front of him.

You took the first bite and moaned: ”I needed this.“

Lando looked at you with a crooked eyebrow.

”What?“, you laughed, ”never saw a woman enjoying her food?“

”I‘ve never seen such a gorgeous naked woman in my bed enjoying her food, no.“

”You‘re a flirt, you know that?“

He only smirked at you and took another bite of his chickenburger, while eating a fries right after.“

”Are you more of a McDonald’s or Nando’s type of girl?“

”I enjoy McDonald’s more, to be honest, I feel like it has a bigger variety of things I eat.“

”Same, if I had to choose my last meal, it would probably be McDonald’s.“

He took a sip of his Sprite and thought about more things to ask you. He wanted to get to know you, it felt like you knew each other for years already, yet it only has been a few hours. He felt super close to you, as if you‘ve been best friends, he wanted you to meet everyone, his family, his friends, and even Zak.

”What’s you’re favorite free time activity?“

”I like hanging with friends or family, I love to play golf and I like gaming. A mixture of all of them. I could never choose my favorite, I also like to photograph, but I barely do it anymore. What’s with you?“

”Well, I like reading, watching sports, or just chill at home. Shopping is great too, I always wanted to watch someone golf professionally.“

”Well, I‘m not a professional baby.“

”But probably more than I am.“

”Alright, when you come with me on holiday, we‘ll play a round of golf.“

”Lando..“

”Come on, it’s gonna be fun! Everyone will love you and you‘ll love them.“

”Let me think about it, okay?“

”I can give you a week, we’re flying from Heathrow, so just text me and join us.“

You took the last bite and thought about it, should you go on vacation with him? What would you tell your family? ’Hey mum, I’m going on a holiday with a stranger I met on a dating app, we fucked and he invited me, I’ll come back in a week!‘ Not so much fun.

”What should I tell my family and friends? I can’t just leave with a stranger on a holiday.“

”Why not? It’s not like we‘re strangers. I’ve been in you thirty minutes ago.“

You scoffed, he was right, but you still didn’t know him at all.

”I still don’t know you.“

”Hi, I‘m Lando Norris, born in Bristol, twenty three years old. I have two smaller sisters and one bigger brother, my parents are together, and together with my sisters they still live in Bristol. My mum is from Belgium, which makes me half Belgian but I can barely speak it. I went to school and went karting, had to re-take my theory driving test, and moved to the higher formula classes on my own accord, not because my dad was rich. I currently live in Monaco because I wanted to do something new. That’s basically everything about me. I live and breathe motor sport, that’s all I have in my life. And now it’s your turn.“

So you did the same, repeating everything he just said, talking about your family, about your passions, your job, and yourself.

”You see? Now we know each other and you can join me for the holiday.“

”Take me out on a date and then maybe.“

”Alright, it’s a deal. Tomorrow after tire testing.“

”Okay.“

You smiled shyly at him, you couldn’t believe you actually said yes to tire testing, but in the end, you only live once and who would turn down a free paddock experience with Lando Norris? Even if it’s tire testing.

”So you‘ll come with me to tire testing tomorrow?“

He got really excited and sat up in the bed.

”Yes Lando, I‘ll come with you.“

”You’re the best!“

With that, he laid himself on top of you and kissed you on the lips, which you returned with a moan. You moved your foot to give him more space and heard a crinkling sound.

”Lando wait, the bag is still on the bed.“

You tried to say in between kisses but he only hummed, clearly already in a headspace where he didn’t care. He distracted you with neck kisses and the bag was long forgotten. He wandered lower with his kisses and stopped at your boobs, sucking your right nipple slightly and licking over the left one when he decided the right one has gotten enough love. With each touch, you gasped, grabbed his hair, and pulled at the strands. You could feel him hardening against your lower stomach and you clasped his shoulders, trying to get closer to him.

”Lando, I need more“, you pressed out.

”More already? God, you’re such a needy little baby.“

He grinned and his hand slipped towards your slit, slowly pushing his pointer finger through your lips. He felt your wetness and moaned at the sensation, he couldn’t believe how wet you were already, he barely touched you.

He pressed his thumb to your clit and slowly circled it, you let out different sounds that made Lando shake, in a good way. He couldn’t wait to be in you again. He inserted two fingers and pumped them slowly in and out, getting faster with every thrust.

”You‘re so wet baby, it’s crazy.“

”All for you Lando, it’s all for you.“

He moaned, kissed your neck, and slightly sucked it, leaving a faint purplish mark. He licked over it to claim his territory once more, tonight you belonged to him and only him, maybe for the next weeks as well. He already loved your company, he didn’t need to pretend to be someone he wasn’t. With you, he could just be Lando even if you just met.

His pumps and circles became faster the louder your moans got, the pleasure you felt was almost unbearable, you wanted to cum but you needed a little more.

”I need more, a bit more“, you pressed out and with that, he added a finger, now you were filled with three fingers and that was what you needed, after a few pumps you came around his fingers with a loud moan, clenching.

”Fuck Lando, you‘re so good at this.“

He smirked and pulled his fingers out of your pussy, looking at them, he pulled them apart and your juices created little strings that connected between his fingers. His eyes focused on your face watching you, as he put his fingers into his mouth, sucking the juices off. With your pussy still sensitive, you felt the next wave of arousal rushing towards your lower area, that was the sexiest thing he did and the way he moaned when he tasted you again, made you go wild.

”I need to be in you again, you have no idea how gorgeous you are.“

”I need you too Lando, I need your dick.“

He laid on his back and removed his underwear he was still wearing from getting the McDonald’s bag earlier, and his dick sprung towards the ceiling. You almost started drooling at the sight. He was perfect, not too long but also not too short, thick enough, and little veins covered his length, making him feel amazing inside of you. With a grunt he positioned himself on top of you, pumping his dick with his hand a few times, getting ready for you. He coated his tip with your juices, by moving his length through your slit and slowly pushed it inside of you.

”You feel fucking amazing, I hope you know that.“

You moaned and pushed his head to yours, pressing your lips on his‘ and sliding your tongue against his lips. He opened them and you fought for dominance, he won but only because you needed to catch a breath, he stole your breath, that’s it.

He deeply looked into your eyes, feeling more connected with him than ever.

With slow movements he began to move, the room getting filled with the dirtiest slapping sounds you could imagine, his thrusts making you feel on cloud nine again, you were so happy you met him, this was way better than sightseeing in Amsterdam. His hand found its way to your clit, rubbing slight circles to get you to your orgasm faster, which worked. You were stimulated by your many orgasms today, you didn’t need much to cum. Just after a few minutes of him thrusting into you and circulating your clit, you came with a loud cry, no one could make you finish like he did. He pulled out of you, and with a pout, you looked at him, how dare he do that, you now felt empty and missed him already.

”I want to cum in your mouth angel.“

With big eyes, you nodded and he got up and sat at the edge of the bed, you followed him suit and sat on your knees in between his legs. His length hit his stomach and you grabbed his dick with both of your hands, you loved how heavy he laid in your hands. With slow movements you started to satisfy him, pumping up and down while you looked through innocent eyes at him. That made him go even more wild in the head and his eyes rolled back, his hands found their way into your hair and he pulled slightly on your strands. You jerked him off and his tip started to leak pre cum, the slight white drops oozed out of his slit and your mouth watered. You opened your mouth and took him in your mouth, you could still taste yourself on his dick and moaned at the taste, the vibrations made him moan. Your tongue licked off the pre cum, the salty flavor wasn’t your favorite, but now you tried to get every drop. Lando guided your head a bit with the up and down movements, you couldn’t fit his whole length in your mouth but you tried with every stroke to fit more. You almost had it, but when you wanted to take the last bit, his soft tip reached your throat and triggered the gag reflex, you tried to ignore it, but you couldn’t.

With that, you pulled back to give yourself a second to breathe.

”Fuck, look at you. Eyes watery, makeup smudged, spit leaking out of your mouth, you look so fucking sexy.“

You grinned and darted your tongue out, licking a long stripe from bottom to top from his dick and with a swift move, you had him in your mouth again, but now only what fitted in without gagging again, jerking the rest of his dick with your hand.

”Such a good girl, fuck baby.“

His moans got louder and you could feel his member starting to twitch, you removed him out of your mouth and just jerked him on your tongue, and before he could warn you, his cum shot into your mouth, painting your tongue white. You looked up at him and he looked like a Greek god, his muscles prominent, head in his neck, and his eyes rolled back. You stroked him until he came back down and looked at you with a big smile, now you swallowed his cum while letting him watch you.

”You are something else darling, fuck. You look so pretty like this. Fucked out. Come here, I need to feel you close.“

With that he shuffled back and leaned with his back against the headboard of the bed, patting his legs, symbolizing you to sit down in his lap. And you did just that, you swung your leg over his leg and sat down, feeling his now soft dick against your pussy. This time there were no sexy feelings involved, you just went in for a hug, also needing the cuddle session you two had going on.

”Do you want to go and pee real quick? Then we can continue our cuddles, I just don’t want you to get sick.“

With a smile, you nodded and he helped you getting up from the bed, with an extra sway to your hips you went to the en-suite and did your thing, coming cleaned up back to see him looking comfy under the covers. You went to the living room where you first sat on the couch today and saw both of your phones laying on the table, you took them both in your hands and returned to Lando. He opened the blanket he was laying under and you slipped in, immediately you were pulled towards Lando, settling into his body nicely.

”You are really comfy, you know that?“, you said to him, he was the perfect mixture of trained but cuddly.

”You know that you are fucking gorgeous?“

You chuckled and gave him his phone you had in your hand.

”So we can exchange numbers.“

With that you opened yours and clicked onto the contact app, creating a new contact with the name ’Lan <3‘ and giving him your phone, at the same time he gave you his phone to save your number. When you saw the contact name you let out a quiet laugh, he saved you as ’Chicken nugget❤️‘.

”Chicken Nugget? Really?“, you laughed.

”Yes, the way you ate the chicken nugget earlier was super sexy. And also you are a chicken nugget. Small, the outside crunchy and perfect, the inside soft, and the taste perfect in general.“

You shook your head while laughing.

”The inside soft?“

”I could only feel you with my dick but you felt really soft.“

With that, he wiggled his eyebrows and smirked at you. You slapped his chest lightly and smiled, he‘s such a goofball, you were glad you met up with him.

You exchanged phones again after putting in your numbers and put them on the bedside table, wanting to feel close and you didn’t need your phone for that.

”So Y/N, tell me, do you meet up with random guys often?“

”Not really, I went on a couple of dates with guys, but nothing more, one or two led to a one night stand but I left as soon as we were done, no need to stay. They all didn’t treat me right, too much in their own head, only talking about themselves. What about you? Do you hit up girls often?“

”Sometimes, but the most girls only come to get a picture with me or to kiss me, you know, to brag about it on the internet or something. I rarely go on a date with a girl that is not interested in Lando Norris but in Lando. I‘m glad I found you, it feels like we have a different connection.“

”I feel the same, you know. It feels like we‘ve known each other for years already. And by the way, I‘m interested in you. Not Lando Norris the racing driver but the boy Lando, that lives in Monaco and loves spending time with his friend.“

He just smiled at you and kissed your forehead.

”I‘m happy you agreed to meeting me, I just wanted a quick fuck but I’m not gonna let you go now. I want to take you on actual dates and get to know you. I will schedule something for tomorrow night, yeah? After tire testing.“

”I‘d love that Lan.“

With that, he kissed your nose and you closed your eyes, kissing his chest.

”What do you want? Italien or something else?“

”Italien sounds good. Thank you.“

”I‘m gonna make a quick call.“

With that he got up, grabbed his phone, and went to another room to call a restaurant or something, you didn’t know. But with that short time, you grabbed your own phone and looked at the notifications, some from Instagram and other socials, and messages from friends and family. Your best friend's messages stuck out to you.

He returned, still naked and with his phone in his hand.

”We have a reservation at 7:00 pm tomorrow, wear something nice.“

”We have to get my stuff tomorrow before we go. When do we even leave and how? Spa isn’t exactly around the corner.“

”The helicopter takes off tomorrow at 11:00 am. That’s the easiest and fastest way. We can go to your hotel before we leave for the airport and gather your stuff, don’t worry.“

”And it’s really okay I‘m coming with you?“

”Yes baby, don’t worry. I invited you. What do they wanna do? Kick you out? Then I‘m out as well.“

”Okay“, you sweetly smiled at him and opened your arms. ”But now come cuddle again.“

He did just that, falling into your arms, and now he was the one settling on your chest, hugging you and you closed your arms behind his back as well. His arm reached for the nightstand, where he placed his phone and grabbed the remote control for the room. He pressed the button to close the curtain and then he turned on the lights, dimming them to create a nice atmosphere. Lando put the remote back on the table and caressed your side, which tickled slightly.

”What’s your favorite position?“

”Lando!“

”What? I need to know, this won’t be the last time I was in you“, he let out a laugh.

You giggled.

”Well, I like good old missionary. It’s underrated I think. Everybody is always saying that it’s boring, but is it too much to ask for that I want to look my partner in the eye or kiss him? But I also like speed bump, something where you are close to the other. If it’s just a one night stand I wouldn’t mind doggy. What about you?“

”I can only agree with you, I like missionary as well, I want to feel close to my girl or else I don’t need to have sex with her. As you said, a one night stand is a different story. But I also think that I‘m open to new things. I’d rather try out new stuff with my girlfriend rather than a stranger.“

”So I‘m not a one night stand to you? We fucked twice and it was only missionary. Technically I‘m a stranger to you.“

”But it doesn’t feel that way you know? As soon as you stepped through that door it was like meeting an old friend, I felt comfortable. And during sex, I just wanted to be close to you, hold and kiss you“, with that he left a kiss on your chest.

”You’re pretty sweet you know that?“

”How can I not when you’re around?“

You just smiled and combed your hands through his hair, enjoying the silence. After a while of just listening to each other's breaths you wondered what time it was, so you grabbed your phone and it was already 10:42 pm.

”Would you mind if I would get ready for bed? I‘m kinda knackered.“

”Go for it, I‘ll join you, I have to brush my teeth as well.“

With that, you both got up and you pulled your stuff out of your bag, putting the charger next to the bed and you took your toothbrush and your makeup remover with you to the bathroom, where you saw a through his phone scrolling Lando. When you walked in, he locked his phone and looked at you, smiling.

”I just asked Zak if it would be okay for you to come and he agreed, so you won’t be a bother tomorrow.“

”That’s nice, I‘ll thank him tomorrow.“

You both stood in front of the sink and you brushed your teeth together.

”It feels like we’re a married couple, brushing our teeth together“, Lando mumbled due to the foam that formed in his mouth.

You just nodded and noticed how true that was, it felt like a routine how you brushed your teeth together. When he spit the foam out and washed his mouth and face, he left with a kiss on the back of your head and the words: ”I‘ll wait for you on the bed.“

You took your makeup remover and removed everything you had applied to your face earlier, you indeed looked fucked out, smudged eyeliner and mascara, concealer that wore off due to you crying when you choked on his dick. You were a mess. So when your face was Makeup free and cleaned up, you returned to Lando in the bedroom, still naked by the way.

”Can I lend a T-shirt? I forgot to pack an extra.“

”Sure, you can grab the one I wore today, I swear I didn’t sweat in it.“

With a smile you looked for it and found it on the floor, you took it in your hands and pulled it over your head, secretly inhaling his scent that lingered on his T-shirt.

”You look cute in my stuff.“

You blushed and laid down next to him, plugging the charger in your phone.

”When is your alarm ringing?“, you asked, needing enough time to gather everything from your hotel room before taking off to spa.

”I think like 8:30 am? It’s pretty early but like that, you have enough time for packing your stuff in your hotel. I think it’s easier if I pack everything here and then we go together to yours. That way we won’t have to drive multiple times to our hotels.“

You nodded and cuddled into his side. He let his fingers slip through your hair, caressing it.

”Can I braid your hair?“

”What?“, you sat up.

”I want to braid your hair, I always saw my sister do it but I never was allowed to try it on their hair, they always said I would tangle it.“

”Do you even know how to braid hair?“

”Kind of? My ex girlfriend always asked me to do it but I never wanted to, but your hair is so gorgeous.“

You blushed at the compliment, he didn’t want to braid his model ex girlfriends hair but yours? Your hair hasn’t been braided in ages, it would be nice to feel that feeling again.

”Sure, it would be fun. I need to get my hairbrush first, they’re kinda tangled.“

You got up and went to your bag, where you kept a small hairbrush for emergencies. You quickly but carefully brushed your hair and sat on the bed, where Lando already waited for you.

”Three strands, and then just put one over the other, right?“

”Yeah, like that. Do you know in which order to put the strands over the other?“

”I think so, I‘ll just try it out.“

With that he combed through your hair with his fingers and created three strands, gently putting the right one over the middle one, repeating it with the left one.

”Can you pull it a bit tighter? That way it won’t be that loose.“

Before you could end your sentence he already pulled it a bit harder, now it looked better, he thought. He kept on braiding your hair until he came to the end.

”Do you have a hair tie?“

You grabbed one that hung around your wrist and gave it to him, feeling how he tightened it around your hair.

This moment felt so intimate, you found it hard to believe, you just met today. This was soulmate behavior, you got along perfectly.

”I think it’s decent.“

With that, you turned around a saw a smiling Lando.

”Wait let me take a picture of you.“

You blushed and mumbled an ’okay‘. He got his fancy photography camera out and instructed you to lie down.

”Lay down on your front, that way your face won’t be visible, just your hair and I can put it up on my jpg side.“

”You want me to be on there?“

”Sure, you’re a beautiful girl with an even more beautiful personality.“

”You’re a simp.“

”That’s not what you called me earlier tho.“

A grin slid across your face, when you thought about that moment. He wasn’t a simp when he was buried deep inside of you, that’s true. But the thought of you being on his jpg side gave you butterflies in your stomach, that meant you were a little special to him, you‘ve never seen a girl on there.

So you did just what he asked you to, laying down on your stomach, he made sure you could see your braid and you heard the camera click, indicating he took a picture. He took a few more pictures and then tapped your shoulder to tell you he was finished.

”Let me see!“

With that, he clicked on a button and the pictures he took appeared, it didn’t even look stupid, like a good Pinterest inspo even.

”You’re actually good at it. The braid looks good too!“

”Thank you love, but how can it be ugly when the muse is perfect?“

You pushed his chest and he fell down on the bed, the camera still in his hand. So before you could react he took a picture of you sitting on the bed on your knees and you let out a scream.

”What are you doing? I don’t look good, I‘m not even wearing makeup.“

”You don’t need makeup, you’re gorgeous without it, and I want to have a beautiful picture of you, is that too much to ask for? Pose for me baby.“

You let out a laugh and you heard the camera click. Next, you squeezed your cheeks with your hands, creating a little pout. Now he got up and put his left hand on your right cheek, cupping it gently, camera now full in your face, click. His thumb on your lips, click. You opened your mouth and sucked on his thumb, click. He put the camera away and removed his thumb from your mouth, pressing his lips on yours, his tongue entered your mouth and you fought for dominance.

”Baby you taste so good“, he whispered in between kisses.

A whimper left your mouth and you kissed him ever more, the more kisses that passed the filthier they got, creating loud smacking noises every time they met.

”I need you“, you moaned.

”You have me.“

You looked into his eyes and they got darker, now a lusty dark green. The excitement was very present in your pussy, due to you not wearing panties, you could feel your wetness forming and slowly dripping down.

”I want you out of my T-shirt and then I want to take a picture. Is that alright with you?“

You moaned at the thought of him taking pictures of you doing the deed. So the only thing you could do was nod your head.

”Words, baby, I need words.“

”Yes, Lando.“

”Good girl.“

With that, he pulled your T-shirt up and tossed it over his shoulder somewhere in the bedroom. He cupped your breast and kissed you. Taking the camera in his hand, while still cupping your boob, you heard the camera doing a click sound. Fuck this is so filthy.

”Look into the camera.“

You did what he asked you to, hearing a moan from him when you did.

”Fuck baby, you’re so hot and sexy, I hope you know it.“

He squeezed your nipple and let go of his camera, fumbling with his underwear, struggling to get it off. When he finally did, his cock sprung towards the ceiling, obviously being turned on by the filthy things you were doing. You laid on your back and spread your legs, he now got a good vision of your glistening pussy. Taking the camera back into his hand, he took a picture of you laying like that, and another of his thumb brushing through your pussy lips, collecting the juices you created again.

The room was filled with click sounds from the camera and your moans or heavy breathing. The sexual tension was almost unbearable in the room.

He now took his cock in his hand and smeared your wetness, that lingered on his thumb, on the tip of his cock, prepping it. Sliding into you, was one of his favorite things already. You could hear the camera click, taking pictures of his dick shoved inside of you, you couldn’t wait to see the pictures. He threw the camera to the side and now concentrated fully on you, moving in and out of you. With each thrust, you both came closer to your orgasm and when he circled your clit with his fingers, you were done for. Quickly he grabbed his camera and could take a picture of your face when you reached your climax. Eyes rolling back, mouth slightly open, and quiet little moans escaped your lips. Shortly after he pulled out and finished on your stomach, he rolled off of you and calmed down next to you. You wanted to clean his cum off of your tummy, when he let out a loud: ”No! I want to take a picture, give me a minute.“

You laughed and waited for him to recover, he snapped the picture and you got up and went into the bathroom, cleaning the mess up with toilet paper. Returning, you pulled the T-shirt from Lando over your head again and laid down, you were tired out from all the sport you did today. Lando also looked like he was tired out, ready to sleep.

”But now, let’s actually go and sleep, it’s late and we have to get up early tomorrow.“

You nodded and turned to lay on your side, facing Lando. He did the same, after turning off the light with the remote that laid on his bedside table and you both looked the other in the eye. Eventually, Lando pulled you close and you cuddled, until you both fell asleep in the other's arms.

—————————————————————————

The next morning you woke up lying on your back, with Lando lying on his side, facing you. The brown haired boy was still fast asleep, his face relaxed and peaceful. You took a deep breath, smelling Lando everywhere, it was like taking a bath in his smell, a bath that you never wanted to get out of. Turning around, you looked for your phone, tapping the screen gently it showed 7:49 am, great, you had another fifty minutes of sleep and you weren’t even tired. With that you turned around again, showing your back to Lando and shuffling close to him. When your back met his chest, he laid his arm around you, even in his sleep he wanted to be as close as possible.

You did fall asleep eventually, Lando’s scent lulling you back to sleep. But a loud beeping sound woke you up again, after what felt like two minutes of sleep. You groaned and pressed your back more into Lando, who let out the same sound as you did. He turned his body to snooze his alarm and cuddled back into you. With you being pressed tightly against him, you could feel something hard pressing in your lower back, you didn’t need long to figure out what it was. You wanted to tease him a little and wiggled around, acting like you tried to get comfortable.

”If you don’t stop, we‘ll not make it today“, he growled. Letting out a chuckle you stopped and turned to face him. When you looked into his eyes you let out a: ”Good morning.“

”Morning baby. How did you sleep?“

”Very good, thank you.“

”We sadly don’t have all day in bed, we need to get up in like thirty minutes, I need to pack everything, we go to your hotel, pack everything, and then we leave for the airport at 10:30 am, where we take off at 11:00 am.“

”Okay.“

You put your hand on his cheek and stroked it.

”You are very handsome, you know that?“

”Not as gorgeous as you are, tho.“

You smiled and pecked his lips, letting your thumb glide over his eyebrow. You both were startled by the loud ringing of his alarm, he ended it and clicked on a button on his remote control to open the blinds and let more light in. He laid down on his back and opened his arm to come closer to him. And you did just that, cuddling to his side and stroking his bare upper body, slowly but surely your hand wandered lower to where his dick was.

”Baby I swear, if you don’t stop, we‘ll never leave.“

”I can give you a handie or a blowie, I won’t need thirty minutes for that.“

”But it’s only a morning boner, he‘ll go away soon. And I don’t want our relationship to be built on lust you know? I genuinely like you, and not only because you are fricking hot and you give good blowjobs.“

”I really like you too, you know. And I don’t want it either, but a boner is a boner and it would be a shame to waste it.“

You looked up at him and blinked in a flirty way. When he didn’t protest, you positioned yourself on top of him and freed his dick, which sprung towards you when he did. Saliva formed in your mouth at the sight, you didn’t waste any time and got to work, spitting on your hand, wetting it to gently jerk him off. When you touched him he let out a moan, you were some kind of magician, he was sure, a handjob never felt better. After you got him fully hard with your hand, you put your mouth on him, swirling your tongue around the head and helping with your hand on the rest that didn’t fit in your mouth. The louder his moans got, the closer he was to a release, you wanted him to cum, so when you cupped his balls and slightly tickled them he came with a loud moan, painting the insides of your mouth white. You swallowed like the pro you are and came back up to him, laying down on top of him. His arms closed behind your back and he kissed your nose.

”You’re incredible, you know that? Not only a gorgeous soul but also incredibly good at giving blowjobs.“

You both laughed and he gave you another kiss on the forehead.

”We need to get up, or else we will be late. Breakfast is at the circuit, is that okay or do you want to order something from the hotel restaurant?“

”I‘m good, don’t worry.“

With that, you got up and Lando followed you into the bathroom where you brushed your teeth, hair, washed your face, and got dressed in the sweats and T-shirt you had on yesterday. You didn’t bring any makeup with you, so you had to go barefaced for now, but that wasn’t a problem. You packed your stuff in your bag, which you brought and sat back on the bed after asking Lando at least five times if you could help him pack, which was five times denied, Lando scattered his stuff in his suitcase. In between you went, folded the clothes, and packed them back neatly, as well as sorted out everything else so they would fit and it would have a system. After twenty minutes he claimed he had everything and when you reminded him of the bathroom he rushed there and gathered everything. You could only shake your head at the way his brain wasn’t fully working in the morning, but in a cute way.

So when he was finally finished and zipped his suitcase, he said: ”You didn’t need to do that for me you know? I appreciate it anyway, thank you love.“ And he gave you a kiss on the cheek.

You made your way to the lobby and then outside, hopping in one of the many taxis that waited outside. Lando named the driver your hotel address and paid him generously after arriving. Both of you went up to your room and you started with doing a light makeup for the day, you didn’t want to look too caked up but a little bit never hurt anyone. You also changed into something fancier and looked not too much. Lando chilled on your bed just like you did in his room minutes prior. When you had everything packed, it was 10:28 am, just like Lando said, you had to leave for the airport at 10:30 am.

”I‘m done!“ and with that he got off the bed and took both of your suitcases in his hand, rolling them behind him.

”You do know that I can take my suitcase as well, you don’t need to.“

”But I want to, I wish I had another hand to hold yours but sadly I don’t.“

You smiled and went to the lobby where you again, hopped in a taxi that brought you to the airport. Due to traffic, you arrived at 10:49 am, giving you only ten minutes until the helicopter was to start.

”Lando, why are you so slow? We need to catch it.“

”Will you calm down? I don’t think the helicopter, that is specifically rented for me, will take off without me“, he laughed and when you thought about it, it did make sense, now you could only laugh after slowing down as well. When you arrived at the VIP check in, you were taken to the place where the helicopters were, one guy loaded both of your stuff in the back and another guy showed you what and what not to do on a helicopter, just a safety check. And when you finally sat in it, with your headphones on, you got butterflies. You were really doing this, going to spa with a boy you met the day before. He could easily kidnap you now, nobody would know, well your best friend would know. You had faith that he wouldn’t do such thing and before you knew it, you took off and flew through the air to another country.

The flight was fun, you and Lando talked without a break and took funny pictures, but only selfies this time. Which reminded you, that you haven’t had a look at the ones you took yesterday evening. So when you landed, a car picked you up and drove you to the circuit, the butterflies only intensifying now. You were about to meet people that were holy to Lando, what would he say? Would he introduce you? And if yes, as what? Girlfriend? No, you guys aren’t together. As a friend? Technically you weren’t even friends. As the girl, he chatted up on Raya and took her to spa because she‘s a good fuck? No, he couldn’t. But you reached the circuit before you could think about it more, the door opened, Lando got out and held his hand out to you to help you get out. You took it gladly and hopped out of the car, you thought he would now release his hand, but no. He kept yours in a tight grip when he started walking toward the entrance. You followed him and smiled. Holding his hand was a good feeling, you felt protected and safe, especially in this new surroundings. Walking towards the McLaren hospitality, you now were shaking with nerves, you didn’t even know why. Meeting new people always made you feel this way.

”Are you okay?“

”Yes, Lan. I‘m just nervous. Meeting your people and all that.“

”Don’t be, they‘ll love you. I spend a lot of time with them and I know how they are, you will love them too, they’re just like me.“

”Just don’t leave me alone for the first ten minutes please.“

”I‘ll never leave you, darling.“

With that, you entered the building and you were met with a lot of people. He immediately greeted everyone that came up to him to say hi, he even took a few minutes to chat with them. So when you made your way to the offices of Zak and Andrea, you were shaking again.

”Relax love, there are barely any people here. It’s not a race weekend, only tire testing with Pirelli.“

”Barely any people? Lando that place was filled with humans!“

”Yeah, but don’t worry, the garage won’t be as filled.“

You reached the offices and Lando knocked on a door, when the door opened you were met with Andrea.

”Morning Andrea! I just wanted to let you know that Y/N will be joining me today, I spoke with Zak and he said it wouldn’t be a problem.“

”Of course not! Welcome Y/N! How are you?“

”Thank you, I‘m good, a bit nervous, it’s a lot to take in.“

”Yeah I get it! Why weren’t you there on the weekend? You missed a good weekend!“

”Well I uhm“, you looked at Lando for help, what should you say?

”She wasn’t free so I took her today, I wanted her to see what I do“, Lando said for you.

”What a shame! Maybe you can come to a race after the summer break, it’s way better than just tire testing.“

”I‘d love to, thank you.“

With that, he said his goodbyes and went back to work, and Lando was already knocking on the other door, which belonged to Zak.

He opened the door and was met with the same smile Andrea had.

”You must be Y/N! It’s nice to meet you.“

”Thank you for letting me come. It’s also nice to meet you!“

”Ah don’t worry, Lando always has free spots for a plus one. What exactly are you to Lando? I’ve never seen or heard about you before, no offense.“

”None taken, uhm I‘m uhm, a friend of Lando’s?“

You wanted to sound confident but it came out more like a question, because you really didn’t know what you were.

”Yeah exactly, she‘s a good friend and we met in Amsterdam, I figured why not bring her you know.“

”I get it, I get it, well have fun Y/N. Maybe we‘ll see each other again.“

”Thank you, I hope so too.“

You squeezed Lando’s hand and he said his goodbyes as well and pulled you to his drivers' room.

”Wasn’t that bad, was it?“

”It was fine, yes.“

”Come on, meeting the guys will be easier.“

Due to the rain, he pulled a rain jacket over his hoodie and gave you one as well. You pulled it over and it was too big on you, but you loved an oversized look. So you went to the garage where people stood and worked a little on the car, just cleaning the remainders from the weekend.

”Guys this is Y/N, my uhm friend.“

Lando did the rounds with you and introduced you to everyone. They were lovely, they all welcomed you with open arms and made you feel comfortable. When it was time for Lando to make his way around the track, you had no trouble with staying with the crew and chatting.

It did get uncomfortable when one of his mechanics asked how the two of you met, but you said online, and judging by their looks, they understood what you meant.

After two hours Lando was done, he had already done his meetings and now was fully released for his summer break. He, again, took your hand and held it until you walked to the car, picking you up to drive to a hotel. You thought he would let go of your hand once you were in the car, but you were wrong. He held it even when you sat next to each other, talking and getting to know each other.

When you arrived at the hotel, Lando checked you in and you both went up to the room. It was a rather small room, but enough for one night. It now was 4:00 pm and you still had three hours until the date with Lando. Lando removed his shoes and jumped onto the bed.

”It’s bouncy, the last bed was hard, what do you think is better?“

”I think hard, when you fuck me, the whole bed will shake.“

He smirked and patted the space next to him, on which you laid down. When you cuddled into his side you noticed you tired you actually were, you didn’t catch much sleep during the week due to you working late and having to get up early, and last night, Lando kept you up for most of it. You needed a nap, and when you looked Lando into his eyes, you noticed that he felt the same.

”Should we take a nap? I‘m fucking tired.“

You nodded with your head, ”I was about to say the same actually.“

You both removed the denim you had on and now laid down on the bed again, cuddling under the blanket. You were glad he texted you, it felt like he was the best company ever and you only met him a day ago.

Two hours later you woke up, feeling completely out of this world, you needed a few minutes to figure out who and where you were. When you saw Lando being asleep, you thought about waking him up. After all the date would start in an hour but did he need that much time for getting ready? You doubt it.

So with that you got up and started to do a little heavier makeup look, nothing bad, just a touch up and the eyeshadow got a shade darker. You picked out the clothing for later and after thirty minutes it was time to wake Lando. With your hand on his shoulder, you started to quietly shake him.

”Lando, baby, wake up. It’s almost time for us to leave.“

You felt him stir and look at you with the same expression you had earlier, he clearly was somewhere else, so you laid down next to him and let him wake up in peace. After five more minutes, he finally came back and started getting ready as well. When he saw you in your outfit, you just put on, he couldn’t help himself but stare. He‘d never seen such a beautiful girl.

”You look fantastic baby.“

You could only blush.

The restaurant he chose was only a five minute walk, so you didn’t need to catch a taxi.

At 6:50 pm you left the hotel and made your way to the restaurant, Lando held your hand and you couldn’t feel more safe than now. It didn’t even bother you, when you passed a group of young men, which normally would have freaked you out.

When you arrived, the nice lady showed you to your table, it was in a more secluded area, where you two could have some privacy. Sitting down, the waiter came and took your drink order, after a few seconds you both settled for a fruity cocktail. The pizzeria wasn’t as filled with people as you had thought and you were thankful for it. You skipped through the menu while talking with Lando, he couldn’t choose either, too many yummy things were listed, and you eventually both settled on pizza. You could never go wrong with a pizza, could you?

You liked how easy things were with Lando, you never had a silent minute, and you were always talking about something. Learning new things from the other with every word. He was such a goofball, always making you laugh and giggle, as well as he was a gentleman, paying for the meal and helping you with your chair. He complimented you with everything you did.

When the pizzas arrived you only stopped talking, when the mouth was full, otherwise, you talked about your future plans, family, your jobs, hobbies, and whatnot. You couldn’t remember anymore, it was so natural at this point, that it felt like your hundreds date.

Lando ordered the bill and paid the meal, not listening to your protests of wanting to help him with that, he only gave you a stern look, but in a funny way. When you made your way out of the restaurant and into a park that was nearby, Lando wanted to ask you a question, he had on his mind the whole day.

”So will you come with me and my family on holiday?“

part three

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris fluff #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #formula 1

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tudorjonesuk123 · 19 days ago

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#leather goods #luxury brand #Luxury menu covers #Men leather coasters #Bill File Folder #Handmade leather menu covers #Best leather menu covers #Guest information book #Guest information folder for hotel #Menu Cover For Restaurants

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beegomess · 6 months ago

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Your marriage with them || Slytherin Boys

Summary: This time, the title describes it well… Warnings: None.

Requests are open!

Blaise Zabini

It was on a sunny afternoon, at one of the idyllic country estates of the Zabini family, that your wedding with Blaise came to life. The setting, though unpretentious, exuded a serene elegance. The estate was situated on a vast property, surrounded by green fields stretching as far as the eye could see. The ceremony took place outdoors, under a clear blue sky, with subtle decor that appeared natural and unpretentious, yet it was evident that every detail had been carefully chosen.

The altar was a simple structure, adorned with white and green flowers that blended perfectly with the surroundings. The chairs, arranged in elegant lines, were dressed in soft-toned linen fabrics, creating a pleasant contrast with the green field backdrop. The sound of birds singing and the gentle breeze completed the tranquil and intimate atmosphere of the event.

The guests, many of whom were close friends and family, appreciated the sophisticated simplicity of the setting. The reception featured an outdoor dinner with refined dishes served informally, allowing everyone to feel at ease. The day concluded with a sunset celebration, marked by lively conversations and laughter, in an environment where elegance met natural beauty.

Draco Malfoy

The wedding with Draco was a spectacle of grandeur and tradition, reflecting the prestige and magnitude of the families involved. The ceremony took place in a splendidly decorated church, whose interior was an imposing example of classical architecture. The environment was filled with luxury and refinement: crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, casting a soft light over the meticulously crafted details.

The altar, adorned with opulent floral arrangements in shades of white and gold, seemed like an extension of the church itself, harmonizing with the columns and walls embellished with marble details and gold frames. The main aisle was filled with guests, all dressed in their finest attire, giving the event a royal air. The sound of organ music filled the space, creating a solemn and majestic atmosphere.

The reception was equally grand, held in the main hall of the Malfoy family estate, distinguished by its refined decor and luxurious details. Guests enjoyed an exquisite banquet and danced to the music of a live orchestra. Every moment of the wedding was planned to emphasize the significance of the occasion and the connection between the families, creating a celebration that will be remembered as a milestone of elegance and prestige.

Lorenzo Berkshire

Your wedding with Lorenzo Berkshire took place in a serene field, immersed in the simplicity and natural beauty that characterize the Berkshire family aesthetic. The location was carefully chosen to offer a tranquil and elegant setting, with robust trees and blooming white flowers.

The ceremony was held outdoors, with a simple yet sophisticated altar, decorated with white and green floral arrangements that complemented the natural palette of the field. The chairs, arranged in a semicircle, were dressed with linen covers and ribbons in neutral tones, blending with the surroundings. The blue sky and gentle sun created a pleasant and calm atmosphere for the celebration.

The reception followed the same refined simplicity, with an outdoor dinner served under elegantly decorated tents. The menu included light and sophisticated dishes prepared with fresh, high-quality ingredients. The overall atmosphere was one of relaxation and intimate celebration, with friends and family enjoying a natural and elegant setting where the beauty of the field complemented the discreet sophistication of the occasion.

Mattheo Riddle

The wedding with Mattheo had to be conducted quickly and practically, reflecting the urgency with which both of you wanted to seal the union. The ceremony took place in a small and cozy garden at the back of one of his family's houses. The decor, done in a hurry, was simple but had a touch of homey charm.

The space was decorated with field flowers and candles, creating an intimate and warm environment. The ceremony area was improvised with an arch of white and green flowers, giving the place a fresh look. Simple wooden chairs were arranged around the makeshift altar, where the vows were exchanged.

The few friends present shared a simple feast, with homemade food and drinks. The celebration was marked by a sense of urgency and love, with everyone present understanding the importance and intensity of the moment. The simplicity of the event reflected Mattheo's and your desire to unite quickly, and even in its simplicity, the love and dedication were clearly present.

Theodore Nott

The wedding took place at the end of a golden afternoon, in a seaside garden belonging to a majestic house on the coast. The setting was breathtaking, with the deep blue sea shimmering under the soft light of the setting sun.

The garden was adorned with natural and refined decor, with white flowers and green arrangements that enhanced the beauty of the environment. The chairs were arranged in a semicircle configuration, offering panoramic views of the sea and the sunset-lit horizon. The altar, simple yet elegant, was framed by a curtain of flowers and leaves, matching the garden’s color palette.

The ceremony was enveloped in a warm glow, as the last rays of sun reflected on the sea, creating a magical and romantic atmosphere. The reception continued outdoors, with a sophisticated dinner served under a large tree, where guests enjoyed the spectacular view and relaxed ambiance. The combination of the natural setting with elegant details created a dreamlike scene, capturing the essence of love and glamour.

Tom Riddle

The wedding with Tom was an urgent and symbolic celebration, held in the Chamber of Secrets, a location that, despite its dark and mysterious character, became the backdrop for a deeply personal and significant moment. The ceremony had to be conducted quickly due to the need to remain hidden, but Tom insisted that all the elements he wanted be present.

The Chamber was temporarily transformed with simple but effective decor. Magical torches cast a soft light on the stone walls, and a series of white candles were placed around the makeshift altar. Discreet floral arrangements, consisting of white lilies and dark flowers, were positioned at strategic points, providing an elegant contrast to the somber environment.

The few carefully selected guests were present to witness the union, marked by sincere vows and a sense of urgency. The ceremony was brief and intense, reflecting both the gravity of the situation and Tom’s deep desire to seal the union as quickly as possible. Despite the improvised decor and unusual setting, the moment was filled with significance, with Tom ensuring that every detail reflected his commitment and desire to build a future together, regardless of the circumstances.

_______________________________

masterlist

I loved writing this, and I hope you enjoyed it too!!

xoxo, bee🫶🏼✨

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trashmouth-richie · 1 year ago

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𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: escaping Hawkins was impossible, but he did it. when a ghost from your past shows up unexpectedly, bringing with him old memories and holding up a mirror to the train wreck life you’re living… you find it hard to trust him again.

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ no minors, depictions of poverty, child neglect/ endangerment, drug use/abuse, alcohol use/abuse, endangerment, 18+ sex working, 18+stripping, violence, smut. no use of y/n reader has a name that’s introduced in the first chapter, and another “nickname” that is lightly used throughout this series. eddie also has a nickname given by reader.

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎: this series switches pov’s between reader and eddie, thank you to @succubusmunson @joejoequinnquinn @choke-me-eddie @sweetsweetjellybean for helping me read through the first chapter, helped me brainstorm etc i love you

there are two easter eggs in this let me know if you catch em! like pokémon only not

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞: here i come, but i ain’t the same

masterlist

Stupid fucking bitch.

One dial tone waned into another, a monotonous wave taunting you from the end of the receiver. Your fingers tap impatiently against the counter. How long could a phone actually ring before it stopped or someone finally answered?

Too damn long apparently.

Giving up and counting your losses, you slam the receiver back on the wall, muttering more choice words as you skirt your hips behind the wooden bar, thumbing through the blue lined notebook schedule.

Work was packed. More-so than any other Friday night, but since it was the beginning of graduation weekend for Hawkins High— every Sam, Dick, and Harry had wandered into the bar looking for a cheap escape and a sugary drink.

Lucky for them, that was exactly what Queen of Hearts had on the menu. And if you talked to the right person, the luck didn’t stop there.

“No answer?” Jolene called over her shoulder, hands full with a bottle of Jack Daniels.

Scribbling an angry dark mark through the name Ginger on the schedule, you toss the notebook back into the drawer shutting it with your hip.

“Just rang and rang,” you say, annoyingly jumping in to help her finish pouring three Jack & Cokes. The soda fizzes under your thumb, “and before you try to cover for her, this is the fourth time she’s done this.”

She lets out an exaggerated sigh, taking the cans from you and tossing them into the trash.

“Really thought this one would work out,” her long legs cross behind you to slot the liquor bottle back in its designated spot, “she had kids.. poor thing needed the cash.”

The familiar ache of neglect radiated through you, “I found a babysitter for the nights she was working, told her I’d help pay… that asshole she keeps around probably found out she was working here.”

Jolene raises her eyebrows. Her slender fingers hold the three drinks with ease, setting them on a tray.

“Can’t believe Jackie skipped town with that rich salesman,” she sighs heavily, leaning an elbow on the sticky bar, “lucky girl, something like that would never happen to me.”

Jealousy pings in your chest but you shake it off, “he was really dreamy huh? Those beauty marks? His hair? His ass?” You wolf whistle, “cut me a slice.”

You weren’t jealous that Jackie was now probably driving a BMW, that her life would be nothing but luxurious from here on out, or even that her boyfriend was movie star hot.

What made your blood boil over was the fact that she got out, and you were still stuck here like hardened gum underneath a table.

The club was a part of you. Like an unwanted birthmark, this lifestyle was something you couldn’t get away from. Understanding at a young age, when most girls were playing with dolls, just exactly the kind of life you were destined to live, and unfortunately it wasn’t outside of these four walls.

“Your time will come,” Jolene smiled, looking into a compact and wiping a smudge of lipstick from her teeth, “you’re still young, Miss Assistant.”

You rolled your eyes, placing the tray on her awaiting palm. Since Jackie was gone, her job was now yours. Tacking on added responsibilities with no pay raise in sight. You found out all too soon what a fucking joke that title of ‘assistant’ actually was.

“Told him I didn’t want it, but you know how that went.”

“I do kid,” she sighs, looking down at you, her eyes sweeping over the still pink scar in your eyebrow, “I really… oh honey, you’re gonna be a busy little bee tonight!”

You breathe heavily through your nose, dragging your hands down your face, “don’t remind me.”

“I’ll help out wherever, ‘kay?”

Jolene had taken you under her wing when you first walked into Queen of Hearts. Freshly eighteen almost down to the hour, naive waters brimming your eyes, forced into this life.

Her motherly ways comforted everyone, only thirty-three but in this industry that was practically ninety. Just like you, Jolene had deep roots in this place.

Her tall frame slinks over to the waiting guys sitting at the stage, a pleasant smile on her lips. Twirling the ends of her black hair twisted into schoolgirl pigtails, laying the charm on thick.

Staring over at her in a forlorn gaze, you hated to think of yourself still here ten years from now, a permanent fixture to this place, like Jolene. The lemons of life were squeezed and you had made the lemonade, but it was sour, bitter.. you longed for something sweeter.

The bubbly fantasy is popped when Mickey Fritz’ oversized hand hits the counter like he’s a toddler in a highchair.

“Hey sugar tits, I’m empty o’er here!”

Your nightmare reality comes back into view.

The walls at Queen of Hearts were draped in deep shades of red velour, a cozy ambiance to invite strangers and locals alike. The bar was backlit and stocked with a decent selection of polished bottles of whiskey, gin and bourbon.

His boots clapped along the wood floor as the pair walked further inside, leaving a plume of smoke in their wake, catching on the neon lights and creating a smoked crimson haze across the dark club.

The raised stage was centered, creating an aisle on either side of it, clad with leather backed red chairs surrounding it at every angle. For a night club in the middle of Indiana, it wasn’t half bad compared to the places he was used to out East.

A row of booths were tucked onto the left side of the club, high top tables stood crowded with drunk college students, yelling loudly and making asses of themselves to impress the working girls.

The music blaring over the speakers was a little cliche and too “pop” for his liking—fuck, had he really turned into one of those guys, questioning what a strip club was playing for music?

He rolls his eyes at his own false pretentiousness, turning it into a wink at a cocktail waitress carrying a tray full of plastic flutes filled with a gut rot of pink liqueur. The gold thong she was wearing sat high on her hips, matching the cheap glittery cowboy hat on her blonde curls.

Dark eyes follow her long legs to a nearby table, a fist to his mouth as he whistles and licks his chomps.

“Damn! Can you believe this used to be the Hideout?” Jeff squawked, not so casually adjusting himself as they slid into an open booth, “that was Gareth Emerson’s twin sister, she really grew up huh, remember him?”

He didn’t.

Much like anyone else Jeff had tried to bring up since he had agreed to meet up for a drink on the occasion that they were both home, he hadn’t given high school a second thought since the night he left.

“Nah, man,” he said, grabbing for the sticky menu on the black table top, “I don’t.”

It had been years since he had seen Jeff, and he was surprised that he had recognized him at the gas station last night when he was filling up his motorcycle.

His own appearance hadn’t changed much, dressed a little better, wore cologne now, normal shit that came along with getting out of puberty.

Back then Jeff still had braces, a small lisp when he got really drunk. Now, he was a grown man. Living in Phoenix with a big important job at some company, home for the weekend to visit his parents, and watch his youngest brother graduate.

There would be no visiting family or old friends for him on this trip back to Hawkins. The thought of running into anyone he knew and having that painfully awkward small talk about the ‘good old days as a Tiger!’ made him cringe, as if that ever were the case for him.

Having left this shit hole in the middle of the night seven years ago, he took nothing with him but some saved cash, his guitar, a full tank of gas and the clothes on his back.

The heavy ache in his chest, brim filled with remorse, was an added carry on, something that didn’t go away with the miles he had put between him and Hawkins.

He had planned to keep this town in the rearview, but life, probably karma, had other plans.

Back in Hawkins strictly on “business,” that's what he told Jeff when the smiley old friend grabbed him into a bear hug in the checkout line, crushing the chips he was carrying to a powder in its aluminum bag.

Technically, it was family business. But he hadn’t mentioned that to Jeff. He didn’t want the questions, didn’t want the pity.

He barely even knew his uncle that well anyway, but being the only living relative of the deceased, he didn’t have a choice when the call came through that he had passed.

A week. That was the timeframe he told his job that he’d be gone for. Leaving just enough time to plan the funeral, and sell the trailer.

Coming home to the haunting shadows of Hawkins was like playing in a graveyard filled with demons of his past. Sorrow filled every dark corner, looming around him like a fog, making him unable to forget the damage left behind.

For years it had worked out fine, he had moved on. But every now and then, he had to push his inner demons down, and still to this day, years after the fact, they kept trying to crawl back up. The shame of his past coming to the forefront.

The music changes to another upbeat song that was popular on the radio, Jeff nods along to the beat, strumming his fingers against his belly like he was playing the guitar.

He looked over at his old highschool friend and smiled for the first time since being back here, “still play?”

Jeff stretched a wide grin across his face, chuckling a little too loud, “only in my dreams… working seventy-hour weeks doesn’t really allow me to have that kinda freedom.” He nodded and smiled a little at the waitress who was coming to take their drink orders, “so what have you been up to man? It’s been years!”

He knew all too well about not having free time to spend the way he had wanted to. He didn’t even own a guitar anymore. The last time he saw his Warlock, it was sitting in a pawn shop in Nashville— the last of his many possessions sold to make ends meet.

Ordering a beer, he counts his budget for this trip in his head, deciding to buy Jeff’s drink too. Maybe being back wouldn’t be so bad after a drink or two, a little liquid courage to get him through the night at least.

The pleather seat creaks beneath his weight when he leans back further into the booth, stretching his arms out wide. Trying to gain a sliver of comfort since being home.

Working the pole to Ginger’s song of choice, Once Bitten, Twice Shy, you found it hard to get into music you could care less about. But you didn’t have time to complain.

Legs crossed and spinning upside down, bare besides a face full of makeup and a red thong, you pretended that you were anywhere else but there.

How nice it would be to not have to crawl across dirty dollar bills, teasing a faceless man with your body so that he would be eager enough to slip a twenty into your g-string.

Collecting your tips from your set, you tap them against your vanity in the dressing room, counting out loud your mind already knowing how much money will be put away after bills are paid.

The long jagged crack in your mirror served as the only looking glass you liked to look in. The warped shapes of your face looking back at you made it easier to swallow the life you were living, as if it were a fever dream, a disturbed Alice in Wonderland type reality.

In the mirror you weren’t a dancer at Queen of Hearts. You could be a nurse, a librarian, a cook in a shitty home town restaurant who went home smelling like grease instead of men’s cologne and wearing suspicious stains.

It could be easy, simple really. Bus tickets weren’t terribly expensive. Going to any city, a map in your hand and the saved coffee can of cash tucked into your purse. You could almost imagine the taste of the ocean. The thought of even stepping outside of Indiana was enough to power you for the rest of the night.

As easily as the daydream came it fluttered away when the boss stepped into the dressing room.

His eyes loomed in a dead stare, sweat pooling on his temples. The ice in his glass shifted as it melted into the whiskey. A Colombian cigar tucked into his fat mouth had an inch long ash waiting to fall.

He wasn’t much taller than you, barely older, but his attitude and small dick made him seem eight feet tall.

“The hell are you doing in here? Fucking Christ woman, the girls are drowning out there, those needle dick college fucks are about to swing fists and you’re in here staring at yourself?”

“Just takin’ a little break Tommy, I gotta change.”

“I don’t need any lip from you, better watch it before I match that other scar y’ hear me?”

His threats didn’t scare you, it was who he answered to that made you terrified. A bad report to the big boss and you’d be drinking your meals through a straw. You knew because it’s already happened. Turns out you don’t need your mouth to swing around a pole.

“Loud and clear.”

This type of life was the only one you had ever known. You quite literally grew up with this environment right under your nose, and everyone at the club knew it.

The romance novels you kept in your purse were full of knights in shining armor type of men, another fallacy to your looking glass.

The thought of anything else was only real in your daydreams. Escaping the festering wound of Hawkins was impossible, almost unheard of. No one with your background got out.

But he did.

Shoulder to shoulder, squeezing in sideways with grimy singles fisted in their hands, the club was stuffed to the hilt with sweaty, drunk, and extremely horny men.

“… here!” you slam two more drinks onto the heaping tray and shove it into Wendy’s hands, “take this to those asshats and tell them we are out of triple sec, no more Long Island Ice Teas, if they want a drink they can order beer like everyone else.”

Wendy swung her hips with the Long Islands in tow over to soften the hearts of the college boys. Batting her lashes, sitting topless on their laps and letting them tell her stories of the parties they went to, the classes they skipped and the girls they fucked. Anything to keep them from hollering and starting a fight with the locals.

Lisa Ann was working over the business men from out of town, their briefcases shining with a matte patent leather, expensive watches adorning their wrists. Her pretty Marilyn Monroe smile on display as she brought over their drinks, tussling their hair between her pink fingernails, putty at her fingertips.

Between the rest of you rotating between pouring drinks, collecting payments and trying to wiggle past the grabby hands of Donny, the roar of the busy hour had started to lull.

All of you were tired and crabby, legs cramping and toes pinched in uncomfortable shoes. Jolene wiped her brow and blew out a deep breath.

“Take fifteen,” you said to her, “I got it from here.”

She shot you a wink and disappeared into the dressing room.

Peeling the soles of your boots from the floor you lean your back against the shelf of liquor bottles. Working your hands on the base of your neck behind your head.

The usual crink that ached when you were stressed was flaring up again. Causing your shoulders to tense up and sending a pinched dull ache from your back up to your throbbing temples. Radiating your jaw, with a heat so fierce it could melt glass and it wasn’t even eleven o’ clock yet.

Your eyes are pressed closed in a tight squeeze, maybe you could shut the pain out by pretending it wasn’t there.

“Tiffs just about done in room D,” Veronica chirped, her bracelets jingling in a metallic tune, “the ‘doctor’ again,” she explains with air quotes chuckling to herself.

“He’s only here on nights she’s workin’” you say exhaustedly, “she’s his favorite.”

Being one of the few regulars that wasn’t married, he was somehow the slimiest worm in the dirt. Tall and slender framed with icy white hair, he seemed to stare down his nose at the girls, his voice an eerily calm when he asked for Tiff, handing over the crisp fifties to secure her for the allotted amount of time.

Beads click together as she stumbles in from the back, adjusting her lipstick and holding the ripped strap of her bra, followed behind her like clockwork was the doctor, tucking his oxford shirt into his slacks.

Your jaw felt like it was going to ignite, as if it were covered in tension rods and the gears were cranking it tighter and tighter, sweat beginning to form on your back, “can you hand me my purse?”

Rustling your bag from underneath the bar, Veronica hands over the canvas tote, her emerald eyes staring at you expectantly like a serpent watching its prey, “care to share those little party favors?”

Rolling your eyes, you move your hand through the contents inside. Pushing past a checkbook, lipsticks, and the papered corner of a tampon. Finally your fingers close around the smooth unlabeled bottle.

Two tablets land in your palm when you pop the cap, and you shake it begrudgingly to release another tablet from the bottle for Veronica.

She giggles and grabs two shot glasses, pouring bourbon into them both.

“Only one,” you instruct, a serious look in your eyes, “I’m not picking you up from the floor later.”

A coy little smile on her lips, she brings the shot glasses over, handing one to you, “you worry too much.”

Placing the pill in her free palm, you clink the glasses together in a little cheer.

“To us,” Veronica grins, “may our titties stay perky, our asses juicy, the boys pockets fat and our kitties not loosey.”

You roll your eyes and she laughs, her lips close around the glass the same as yours, and you swallow down the liquor, wincing at the taste.

Within fifteen minutes the temporary high coats your brain like a warm blanket, floating you to a place far away from shiny poles, 6 inch heels, and ass slaps, away from Hawkins.

Jeff listens intently as he explains a very bland and watered down version of how he left Hawkins and traveled east, working odd jobs.

Skipping the part about how he lied about his age to find work, and how he spent an entire month getting his ass kicked after dishwashing shifts at some swanky restaurant outside of Raleigh.

He explained the good stuff, how he worked part time at a tattoo shop for one of his buddies he met in Philly. His full time gig being a lead shift at a factory.

It wasn’t that impressive, he knew that, but he couldn’t make himself give a shit what anyone thought of him. For only being twenty-three, he was proud of having a paycheck every two weeks from a legit place.

The click of the waitresses shoes on the floor had Jeff looking up, thanking her for the drinks. She was dressed a little more conservative than the other waitresses had been, wearing a black mini skirt and a see-through red long sleeved top, showing off black sparkly stickers that covered her nipples.

But that wasn’t what had him taking a second look. At first glance he thought maybe it was just a note written in pen, a reminder of some sort on the top of her hand, lots of people wrote on their hands right? But when she set the drinks down, reaching past them and across the table to grab a napkin, sopping up spilled beer, he almost choked on air.

It wasn’t something written in pen, or a weird unlucky shaped birthmark. The marks on her hand were two small symbols, they had faded with time and were blown out a little on the edges.

Of course they were, because the identical marks on his hand were blurred the exact same way. Two little symbols, done on the hottest day in July. The smell of his childhood room stung his nose as he thought of that day.

A day when you were both only thirteen.

The regulars were bellied up to the bar holding an aluminum can toast to their long gone friend, hollering for you to play some David Allen Coe in a final goodbye.

Flicking through the jukebox to find “Never Even Called Me By My Name,” you were too busy to pay any attention to the toast of the deceased buddy.

Maybe if you had, you wouldn’t have been completely blindsided.

“Clovie?” A disgustingly sweet saccharine voice laced between bubble gum pink lips sang out from behind you, tapping you simultaneously on the shoulder, “be a dolly and run the drinks over to table 8, would ya?”

“Why c—”

Tiff was already gone, the door to the dressing room swinging shut in a shower of White Diamond perfume before you could even spin around and tell her where she could shove those aforementioned drinks.

Outside of collecting her own tips, and pleasuring the doctor, Tiff never lifted a finger to help.

Wiping your hands on the cleanest towel you could find, your muttering goes unheard as you cross back over to the bar and grab the cracked black plastic tray set with two large overflowing mugs of draft beer.

The ground was sticky under your boots, like walking in half dried paint, sometimes you wondered if Wendy actually served a full drink to anyone.

Balancing the heavy tray on your palm and shoulder, you pray that it won’t snap before you’re able to place the drinks down.

Table 8 was occupied by a guy you had seen before but couldn’t remember from where, and a long dark curly haired woman who was facing away from you.

The smile on your face was the fakest one you could make, hoping to maybe get a good tip before Tiff could notice and take her claim.

“Alrighty,” your customer service voice sang with a false sweet sincerity, “looks like we have two Busch Lights?”

The guy you had greeted smiled eagerly, moving his elbows from the table allowing room for the frosty mugs to be placed.

Your fingers work gingerly to set the ruby colored drink napkins down first. The beer was placed carefully, his greedy fingers grabbing the handle before you could barely remove your hand from it.

The second beer started to slide on the tray, and you over corrected causing it to land with a thud on the table, sloshing the pale ale all over the table—luckily not on the woman.

So much for a tip, huh?

Apologizing quickly, you lean across the table and reach for the paper napkins. Wiping up the mess hastily you toss the wet heap onto your tray.

Turning to the woman to offer her a look that’ll hopefully get you in her good graces— well enough that maybe her husband would reconsider tipping, “I’ll go fetch a rag and come back with another beer free of charge sweetheart,” you start to smile sheepishly, “I’m so s—”

The eyes you were met with were the deepest shade of brown, struck with astonishment, crowded by a grove of thick lashes, a look of dismay etched into them.

Blinking once, twice, you couldn’t register if you were truly seeing this or hallucinating.

You hadn’t seen those eyes in years, a flash of recognition drops on your face and the perky smile fades. Heart falling to the well of your stomach, punching the air from your lungs, heat rising to the surface of your cheeks.

In an instant, you’re brought back to many years before tonight. When those eyes were younger, full of teenage angst and rebellion.

Hell must’ve froze over, pigs were without a doubt flying overhead: Eddie Munson had returned to Hawkins.

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