#this woman is the most famous person in the world i think she knows that anyone can google her and realize she wasn't raised in an asylum | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

saiidahyunie · 2 months

Text

don’t go insane

hirai momo x fembodyguard!reader || fluff ; smut

synopsis: you get assigned to protect your world famous girlfriend again—but an incident occurs one night that will change how you approach the bed from now on.

warnings: smut ; cursing ; more smut ; mentions of food ; alcohol ; spanking ; praise ; edging ; smut again ; overstimulation ; degrading ; slight belt play? ; bondage ; dacryphilia ; mmmmmm smut and smut hehe! ; bottom momo ; whipped reader for a quick second ; [redacted] appears (again) ; might/might not be proofread ; i think i cleared the checklist ??

a/n: for @gayforminatozaki, the direct sequel of standing next to you .

the cool morning air of paris meets you, standing on a balcony with a french pressed coffee to your lips.

how fitting.

you scout the few amounts of people down on the street below your apartment that were going about in their daily lives. you see a woman enter a bakery with another person cruising down on their moped wearing a cute baby blue helmet zipping past your vision.

another sip of your coffee passes through your lips, finishing the last bits of it before you were just now holding a simple empty cup that said “for the missus” with a lipstick mark under the text. you scoffed at the cup of choice, knowing that it had came as a set that was a welcoming gift for the person that you were assigned under.

sighing out in relaxation, you gaze over the skyline where the eiffel tower was making its presence known, with the arc de triomphe also standing tall behind in the distance on this bright morning under the warm sun.

you turn your head back inside, the sheets unmade from the amount of movement that was made in the bed last night—your side clearly left imprinted on the mattress and pillows, along with the pool of clothes that were scattered across the floor from last night’s event.

suit trousers laid flat, the dress shirt on the chair, your necktie on the headboard of the bed. it was the complete opposite to your current attire of grey sweatpants with a white crop top shirt. god it was definitely an evening for the books. another pair of clothes were off on the tile floor next to the bathroom, a path seen leading further into the room, it’s occupant still fast asleep on their side of the bed.

the person sleeping their heart’s content away in question? none other than your famous girlfriend, momo.

unlike your side of covers, hers exposed her bare back to you, hints of red marks and hickeys all over like a canvas painting that was curated by yours truly.

but how did we get to this exact moment currently? let’s rewind a bit back to explain how you and her ended up the morning after in a paris penthouse suite.

not long after you and momo hooked up following the chrome hearts incident back in new york city, momo finished up the remaining tour stops in the US with ease. the only new catch however was that you and her kept your relationship secret behind the scenes.

most of the nights would be filled with endless sex with soft pillow talks in the morning, show preparations filled with stolen kisses when no one else was looking, staying right by her side when escorting her through different areas—hand on her back or a finger linked with hers.

the two of you really enjoyed the time spent together on the free days, momo being the free spirt that she was going crazy with shopping and you carrying most of her new clothes that she couldn’t wait to try on for herself and you—only for it to be torn off her body minutes later when you couldn’t stop eyefucking each other.

in all of the moments shared, time was the greatest enemy in the end. her tour had finished and you would be sent back to another posting while momo would have her much needed time off.

it hurt to finally be separated after realizing the feelings you had for her, but you knew that she had the strings to pull you back to her for another event sometime later in the year, so the agreement of being in a long-distance relationship was the solution for now.

at the airport, you ensured to keep your bodyguard image once yoona had managed to get everyone situated in momo’s team. while she was doing that, momo pulled you away from the logistical atmosphere to a nearby photobooth. you laughed at her silly idea, but she insisted on making one last memory before leaving back home.

“this is so teenage corny, but i wouldn't mind having one last memento from you.” you say to momo, sitting down on the far end of the small booth, arm wrapped around her waist while she tapped away on the screen to get the photo machine working.

“something for us to keep, and a little reminder of you.” momo says sweetly, you press your lips to her jaw that makes her mewl cutely at the affectionate side that she managed to bring out of you.

you and momo do a wide variety of poses in the six frames that were set up for you two. the first three being funny and cute poses of pressing each other’s faces and hugging, and the last three being more intimate with kisses on cheeks with the last one being a proper lip lock to seal it.

yoona stands outside a luggage store with karina, looking for the two of you while she spots you two walking, sharing a quick laugh while momo was holding two cups of coffee—clearly one of them for yoona as you stood behind her, scanning the people walking past you while momo handed the cup.

“our flight’s leaving in about an hour, but we have first class so we can board a little bit early than expected.” yoona announces to the three of you. momo pouts her lips with those thick nerdy glasses that were just for show and not for prescription, your cheeks forming a dimple realizing that the time was now growing short.

“if anything yoona, we’re pretty much set over here. another team will escort you guys to the gate, but this is it for us.” karina says, your eyes turning towards her while she said that to momo’s manager.

“do you mind if you can bring us to the person that’s helping your team before you have to leave?” yoona asks, shouldering her expensive handbag in her arm that was slipping off.

“sure, y/n you want to come?”

“it’s fine, i have to get in touch with nayeon for a debrief.” you reply, holding a hand up with karina acknowledging your refusal. “you can go, i’ll meet you back at the terminal.”

karina nods, motioning yoona to follow her.

momo bent down to tie her shoelace real quick, but that was a fake cover since she stood up after you tapped her shoulder, wrapping you into a hug that makes you want to go with her back home. you could use the break anyway from your bodyguard post for a bit and you did say to nayeon that you’d be taking a temporary vacation once you and the rest of your team got back.

“momo…” you mutter, her hair over your mouth and nose as her grip tightened around you, not wanting to let go at all. “you have to go baby.”

“i know, it’s just- i’m gonna miss you…” she mumbles into your shoulder, fighting back tears before loosening her hug just a bit to meet your face.

“we’ll be together again, but you deserve the break.” you comfort her, patting her head as she hugs your waist once more, pressing her lips to yours for a quick kiss—one feeling that you’ll never get enough of the next time you’re assigned with her again.

“i guess i have to go now…” she says defeatedly, you grab her hand for a quick second before she stars walking away, fishing for your slip of pictures from the photobooth and a sharpie that you always had on the ready, scribbling on the back of it with something.

“give me your photo slip and take this.” you instruct momo as she hands you her copy of the pictures, trading for the one that you just wrote on.

“what’s this?”

“my personal phone number,” you answer, “i keep two phones; one for work and the other for outside of my job.”

momo chuckles a bit, happy with the gesture you just did to ensure that you and her would keep in touch.

“now get going silly, you’ll miss your flight.” you say to momo, tapping her shoulder as she gives you a couple more quick kisses, each contact much sweeter than the last before she pulls away.

“i hope you know that i love you right?”

“you don’t have to tell me twice.”

she smiles at you, lunging for one last kiss before starts running backwards to the gate, waving at you like a lost child at the mall. the black beanie the back of her head finally disappearing in the crowd after a few seconds.

everything felt way too good to be true, only for you to be brought back down to the earth. the miles and miles of land and oceans tearing you and momo apart for what seemed to be like forever—but in reality it was just for the summer.

momo’s tour had concluded in may, and she had the whole summer to herself back doing various things with her close friends and family; traveling around the world and seeing the new sights of countries that she dreamed of going back to when she was a kid.

as for you, nayeon let you off the hook with that long overdue vacation that you proposed back at the chrome hearts store. sure, she didn’t want you to be on temporary leave since you were basically the best in the business at doing your job correctly. speaking of correctly, that dumbass heechul was finally kicked off to the curb and shipped to a different celebrity service that was more well known for dealing with delinquents—perfect for his line of work really.

during the summer, you decided to use your well paid time off doing a bunch of works that you put on hold when you first got the bodyguard job. this was not limited to drifting in custom-made cars, a getaway trip with your close friend sakura to jeju island, and even doing a simple modeling gig; courtesy of momo for helping you get set up.

you and momo kept in touch through texts and facetime calls whenever it was possible despite the difference in place and time, but if was worth fucking up your sleep schedule for her, then you could never complain about the increase of caffeine in your system.

“so when are you supposed to go back to work?”

you hum while reaching in the cupboard for a mug to use for your homemade root beer float, “i don’t know, nayeon told me that i could come back whenever i feel like since i’ve done a lot more than i initially expected.” you say, turning back to see momo on your screen laying on the bed, the heels of her feet up in the air.

“they really worked you down, didn’t they?” momo sighs out that makes you chuckle at the thought of it. she knew that you were stressed to a certain degree during her US tour, and luckily she was the one to relieve all of that almost entirely.

“yeah,” you say, “but on the brightside, i finally got back to some of my hobbies outside of work.”

“hmm, like what?”

“oh you know, sleeping in a whole lot more compared to waking up at 5 in the morning. or better yet, being able to go out for some drinks and not having to worry about a hangover the morning after.” you list, pointing a finger up in the air like some idea with a dumb smile struck over your face.

“you’re so cute.” momo laughs out, “i can’t believe you have this side of you i didn’t expect to see.”

“oh shut up, you’re one of the few people i can’t get mad at now.”

“good.”

the both of you share a laugh together over the phone, sipping the last couple chunks of ice cream mixed with your root beer, stirring it with a spoon while momo shifts herself into the bed more, almost getting ready to fall asleep.

“i miss you.” you say to momo, tilting your head to match hers that was on her side now, tapping her cheek on the phone screen. “it sucks that we have to keep this dating thing a whole secret for the sake of our companies.”

“at least it's not a dating ban, but i miss you too.” momo replies, eyes drooping with the wave of sleepiness slowly taking over.

“i’ll let you go sleep now.” you softly say while momo moans slightly through her covers. “dream of me when you can, yeah?”

“always.” momo murmurs out, waving small with her three fingers over the cover as you wave at your phone screen, kissing to the air while momo ends the call after more than four hours. (with all this free time that you and momo were granted, it was justified)

“she’s so cute.” you say to yourself, standing up from the table before cleaning up a bit around your kitchen before packing it up for the night.

once the summer had passed, things got back into full swing. momo was in and around the studio working on her next project while you ease yourself back into the bodyguard position by training the newbies that had come up through the ranks.

you had a smug smile on your face with the new people being introduced to your unit; chaeyoung worked under a previous agency but switched over since the pay was better. wonwoo was also a returner that was supposed to be with your team on momo’s previous assignment, but you got heechul instead which was a bummer because of logistical reasons. and there was tzuyu, who didn’t seem like the more intimidating type—once you saw her skills with firearms and martial arts, that ended the questions faster than they could be formed.

during one team briefing, nayeon pulled you out of it for a quick word. granted, you hated those meetings anyway so nayeon was doing you a favor by bailing you out so that you didn't have to talk about all of the financials that this bodyguard job demanded for better equipment and all of that special jazz.

“this better be good.” you say to nayeon, leaning your hand against the wall with the other on your hip as nayeon parts a wisp of hair from her face before seeing a grin with a hint of her fixed bunny teeth.

“we got a posting for you. pick five others to tag along in your team and we’ll get all of the details sorted out.”

“you know i’m taking karina, mingyu, and wonwoo this time. but let's add tzuyu and keji too.”

“that’s why i like working with you y/n.” nayeon says, tapping your shoulder, letting out a scoff at the compliment you received just now.

“is there a catch?”

“sadly, this is a double-op assignment. we’ll be working with jihyo’s agency.”

“that’s not bad, she does her job pretty well like you actually.”

you and nayeon glance over to see joshua blitz past by, running papers in enclosed cardboard pipes on a cart before returning back to the conversation.

“so jihyo’s team is in on this also?” you ask, rubbing your hand alongside your face. “explains the lag in details being exchanged.”

“it’s fine,” nayeon replies, waving her hand up to not make you worry. “jihyo and i are good friends, so i expect nothing less from you or her team.”

“where’s the assignment?”

“france, for paris fashion week.”

“oui, oui.” you hint at nayeon with a wink. “that means i can dress a little more fancier now.”

“should’ve done modeling instead then.”

“don’t tempt me now…”

an exchanged laugh was shared before nayeon brought you back to that stupid meeting that was already ending, but you were excited to travel again—this time, to one of the most stylish cities in the world.

while that was happening, momo was back in her luxurious apartment sharing a brunch meal with sana, her close friend of 10 years, catching up with whatever life nonsense had happened while momo was out of the country.

“so that’s how it happened?” sana asks, tossing a grape into her mouth while momo was texting yoona about some logistical details regarding the expected fashion week appearance.

“pretty much, but i had a crush on her since the first time i went on tour, but there was something about her the next time i saw her that made me want to jump at the opportunity.”

“and you guys have been dating for?”

“roughly about fiveish–six months since may? so it hasn’t been that long.” momo answers, putting her phone down on the coffee table that showed her homescreen of you and her on a day off in los angeles, the blurry image of you and her hugging that was probably taken by yoona.

she also shows a professional picture of you working to sana—an image of you at the front while momo was behind wearing sunglasses along with a hoodie to keep her appearance hidden to the public.

“she’s pretty hot, i’ll give you that.” sana chides, zooming in at your broad stature, the blazer on your body well rested in every noticeable aspect in the shoulders and waist, the earpiece clearly seen in your left ear and your prada glasses.

“the best is what they say about in terms of her job, now i’m trying to have y/n assigned with me every chance i can.”

“you are so gay, and horny.”

“you’re into that too sha, don’t even talk.”

“the new miu miu ambassador everyone will be talking about in a week or so. can’t wait to see the pictures from that.” sana says, downing a glass of orange juice while momo hits her with a pillow from the couch.

planning phases are always a pain, but luckily you’re not part of the management end of things with your agency since nayeon’s team did most of the heavy duty business like clockwork and once everything was all set in stone—the green light for paris fashion week was under way.

momo was walking around her spacious walk in closet, trying to get some of luggage filled up with different clothes and combinations to wear before and after the necessary promotions with miu miu, grabbing a couple of miu miu clothes that she already owned prior as well as tossing a pair of flared leggings over her head. the sound of a trap beat is being heard from the tv in the living room serving as background noise only for her phone to ring off a notification that makes her stop what she’s doing.

at the same time, you were in the middle of your workout at your apartment’s gym, finishing up a set of pullups before you heard the vibration of your phone on the bench over the heavy rap song blasting over you. dropping from the bar, you walk to the bench where your gym bag and phone were at, fishing for the towel to wipe the sweat off of you, staring at the mirror of your body build. you kept yourself in shape, the tattoo on your left arm in all of its glory as well as the toned muscles from the shoulders, arms, and abs.

you look down at your phone to see the text from nayeon in the groupchat with the other members in your team for this assignment, the link attached from her message that consisted of the fashion week schedule, travel itinerary, and a few other things that you would look at later once you got back to your place.

so you grab your secondary phone for personal uses, showing a picture on the lockscreen of momo in her element during her concert that you snuck backstage with the home wallpaper being the slip of paper from the photobooth at the airport before texting sakura who was asking for your opinion on the beanies that she’s crocheting.

back at momo’s apartment, she plops back down on her moonpit couch, wiggling her feet along with the song in the background with two weeks worth of luggage ready at the kitchen island before getting another text notification, but this time it was from yoona.

you’re getting a post workout shake ready in the kitchen, drying your hair with a towel in your all black outfit of a simple oversized shirt and sweats, feet tapping along the hardwood floor while you subconsciously made a lap around the kitchen island waiting for the blender to stop mixing when your work phone gets another text that has you looking again.

momo reads yoona’s message, confirming the flight ticket to paris while your text gets the final confirmation of your next posting. the both of you smile at your phone screens that can only mean one thing while the both of you switched over to the message app in less than a millisecond.

you and momo are finally seeing each other again in another corner of the world.

the welcoming party at the paris airport wasn’t out of the ordinary.

if anything, it was actually a chill approach once you heard that momo’s team had landed from their thirteen hour flight. you, mingyu and keji were waiting for karina and tzuyu to loop back along with momo’s group.

“this should be a fun week.” mingyu says, rubbing his hands together that was clothed in woolen gloves.

“i feel like you’re not as enthusiastic unlike last time.” you reply, fixing your ear piece and turtleneck that had a sleek silver chain hanging around your neck.

“well, it’s been a while since we had you at the helm so—”

“y/n, why do you have jewelry on your attire?” keji asks while pointing at the chain that made mingyu stifle a laugh at the surprise question.

“keji, she’s the leader. she has some leniency with what she wants to do with herself.” mingyu answers the question for you, smiling from keji’s dumbfounded reaction.

“alright you two, that’s enough. we got eyes on twelve.” you say when you saw the small band of people approach you at the terminal door. the flashing lights and people clamoring left you unfazed as the secondary team of guards parted them away from the main centerpiece.

the paparazzi crowd presented momo to you that was straight out of a movie scene; she was layered in a thick leather hoodie with both hands in her pocket. even with sunglasses on to protect her from the bombardment of flashes coming from the cameras, you felt her eyes locked on to yours, that smug smile she always beared almost kicking you in the gut. just even in close proximity, there was a power that she held that made your world stop for just a second.

you catch yourself smiling, and this girl is gonna fucking drive you crazy.

flashing a look to mingyu and keji, the both got into a standard formation to slot themselves into the pack, keeping most of the fans and camera people at bay once momo got to the door on the way out. you look at your watch to ensure that everything was right on schedule and right at nine thirty on the dot, the momo frenzy has finally touched down in paris.

“everything’s holding up from back here.” karina says through your ear piece, waving her hand in the back row where you could barely see her.

“alright, prep the team for phase two.” you reply back, showing a hand signal that prompted karina to relay the message to the other workers that helped out guarding momo to disperse the crowd surrounding them, clearing a pathway the the entryway of the bulky black suv and opening the door for yoona and momo.

the two girls flash a look at you, even with a straight face you couldn't help but wink at the two of them—the notion of you being assigned to them again was a much needed reassurance before getting into the car. you’re already thinking of how to sneak away with the talk of the town in the city of love, but that will come for later.

it’s all the usual at this point, closing the car door before your assigned driver asks you about the hotel location in french, in which you reply back flawlessly with the matching language. momo takes of her hood and sunglasses while you were in the conversation, listening to how the french words rolled off your tongue like butter—biting her lip a bit at how damn good you were at your job.

“nice to see you two again.” you say looking back at momo and yoona sitting in the backseat smiling to see your face. “been a minute hasn’t it?”

“i was worried that you weren’t gonna be back in time for this, but thank you for being here.” yoona says to you, placing her bag in the middle seat between her and momo.

“please, this is what i do for a living.”

“and it’s also my job to keep your little secret relationship here under wraps.”

“yoona, you’re already doing so much as it is and we’re thankful for that.” you say to the manager, tilting your head off to the side while the car was rolling along the streets of paris.

“so what’s the plan y/n?” momo asks you, taking your ear piece out to reduce the back and forth chatter between karina and wonwoo on the radio channel. you hum while looking through the main windshield as the suv weaved at every turn and straight on the way to your next destination.

“the plan is to have you guys and my people checked in. after that, we’ll give you guys some downtime before going out to have dinner. since the fashion show isn’t for another day, you basically have a free day before the actual event, so whatever it is that you want to do is up to you or yoona for that matter.”

momo hugs her legs on the backseat, getting more comfy leaning next to the door. “there’s this restaurant somewhere around here, and they have some mean oysters that they serve. you think we can go there yoona?”

“sure, let's just get you situated in the hotel first before i put in a reservation.”

when your small convoy of cars arrives at the breezeway outside leading into the hotel lobby, you can immediately tell that the inside was subjected to a certain theme. none of the hotel guests seemed to bat an eye that a world famous celebrity was staying here given the increase of bodies in security when yoona was getting momo checked in at the main desk.

a 1950’s victorian theme was spread about in various areas of the lobby. the paintings on the wall, the couches and chairs for the guests to sit on have a more regal theme to them rather than saying old fashioned. you had a knack for a sense of nostalgia for an era of time that you weren’t even a part of let alone born in, but it was things like these that really kept you captivated—much so like getting lost in an art museum and momo knows this about you very well.

momo was already called over by yoona at the front desk to verify the hotel stay, then was shooed off jokingly while karina was with the manager to get your team situated too. planning and logistics, you thanked nayeon in your head for hiring karina in the first place who could handle all of the paperwork stuff. mingyu and wonwoo worked well together, so you kept it that way and sent them outside to keep on the lookout for jihyo’s team that she sent over while tzuyu and keji were with some of momo’s management and indulging in a lovey conversation.

and there you were, next to momo again, not showing any hint of your relationship with her whatsoever since you and her agreed to keep it a secret until after ‘work hours’ but that wasn’t limited to exchanging quick glances and looks so filled with love. the both of you were in your own element constantly to the point that even the simple acts of doing in and out of your job was more than enough for momo to be crazy about you too.

she sees you off in the distance, hanging near the elevators with another extra guard member that was with your team talking about details of guidelines and all that before the guard member stepped away from you to tend to something else. momo then points her phone towards your direction, zooming it in precisely that it gets you and the fancy vase full of white lilacs taking a picture that captured your back that was exceptionally shown from the blazer.

momo then edits this in her photos for what seemed to be a few seconds before she felt an alluring presence over her. “that pic isn’t me i’m assuming?”

“it is, you’re too fucking fine in that suit for me.”

"all for you baby, remember that." you reply, with momo looking up at you matching the same smirk on your face.

you knelt down to meet her gaze, the wolf cut in all of its glory along with her small hint beauty marks on both of her cheeks. those plump, kissable lips are making it dangerously hard for you to not steal a peck with everyone possibly watching.

"you look wayyyyy too good in casual clothes..." you say to momo, leaning into her face from your lowered position. "maybe we should just get away from everyone here, just the two of—"

“y/n, come up?”

pulling back with a defeated sigh as momo nicks a lock of hair behind her earlobe, you press on your earpiece to answer the comm.

“go ahead karina.”

“momo is officially checked in, but jihyo’s team just arrived outside the hotel right now.”

you look over to the front desk, yoona holds up a set of keycards before looking back to momo nodding that everything was all set up for her. the two of you meet with karina and yoona before the elevators, handing her the projected itinerary that was drafted up by nayeon.

“go on up to the rooms. jihyo’s team is taking over for your guys' dinner tonight.”

“what about you?”

“i’ll have to meet with whoever jihyo sent for this double assignment, but you guys have my number to keep in touch if something comes up.”

yoona nods her head, reminded by how much star power momo held with just her pure existence. giving momo a look before cocking her head to the elevators.

“we’ll see you guys soon, but enjoy your dinner.” you say while you and karina give the pair a small wave before walking away to the front doors of the hotel lobby to meet with jihyo’s bodyguard team.

knock knock

in your dark room that was only lit by the faint light of the lamp on your hotel desk, you couldn’t help but wonder who was at the door or why they would be knocking at this hour.

walking up to the frame and looking through the peephole, you see that no one was actually there—now you would just dismiss this and just plop black on the bed, but there was a premonition that someone was there that you just didn’t know.

so you open the door, unlinking the chain lock before opening it wider to see the welcoming body; only to be lunged at by the supposed intruder, arms linking around your neck while yours fall to a slim waist, their lips meeting with yours.

suddenly your back meets the wall of your hotel room, the taste and scent of peaches filling your senses on your nose and lips. the perpetrator pulls away from you for a quick breath before letting out a muffled moan into your mouth again, making your brain hazy from the feeling of their lips and your hands roaming all over their back.

“wha–” another groan passes through the small space between your faces. “what are you doing here?” you ask the person pinning you against the wall, smiling against their lips. a slip of your tongue was enough to incite a small moan, in addition to gripping their ass through the baggy jeans they were wearing.

they pull away, leaving your eyes half-lidded—their hands slowly receding away from your face while you add a bit of a tighter grip around their waist, rubbing the small divot in their lower back.

“i wanted to see you.” momo says sweetly, lowering her hood to reveal her bare face much closer to you, a soft smile across her lips that makes you dip your head down trying to resist the absolute cuteness that was displayed in front of you.

you’re grinning, hard, and you’re trying not to show momo how badly you’re folding as momo pulls you in for a hug–the kind of hug that’s suffocating you from the pressure, the one where you embrace your lover when you meet at the airport after being away for so long. you shouldn’t be this whipped for her, but you are, and that’s the reality.

“do you realize that you’ll get in trouble if they see us together?” you ask momo, the door finally closing from the hallway to shroud the both of you in darkness again before flipping the light switch to the hallway in your hotel room. “besides, it’s past your curfew and we have a busy day tomorrow already.”

“it’s okay,” momo assures. “i think you can be a little bit lenient with me can’t you?” wrapping herself around you again, catching another whiff of the calming scent of honey in her hair.

you sigh, melting at her touch. even if she was a little bit shorter than you, she knew how to make you vulnerable with so much sincerity and care—the best kind of protection in momo’s case really, “you’re really stretching your luck here momo, but i won’t be the one at fault if you don’t wake up in time later.”

“stretching huh? you can help me with that.”

“god, you’re something else.” you chuckle out. (you’re seeing what she’s implying here, but you’re not letting her get to you that easily.)

“so let’s go then. i wanna show you around for a bit.”

“and where exactly do you even plan on going at this hour? it’s almost midnight.”

“maybe if you get dressed, we can get going before the others realize that we’re not actually here.” momo assures, prompting you to change your attire into something more comfortable and inconspicuous. she sees your nike sports bra that’s covered by a shirt layered with an oversized hoodie, your legs that was occupied with sweatpants now in different color to help match the look along with your casual shoes that you used for morning runs.

finally you’re ready, and momo giggles at the sight of you fixing your shoes before you flash a very unamused look, closing the gap between your faces again before opening the door out to the hotel hallway.

“i’im giving us forty-five minutes, so this date better be worth it.”

it’s wasn’t really a bad scenario to be getting lost in the streets of paris at midnight.

the city is so much prettier at night. you’ve seen the pictures from various twitter accounts and pinterest posts, but to experience it live and in person was a completely different experience. you got lost in the various structures of architecture, the cobblestone pathways that were used as the main roadways, and even the vintage aspect of the closed stores and cafe shops.

a pretty night indeed, in addition to walking along with your extremely pretty girlfriend as well.

your hotel was a block away from the eiffel tower, and people were still out and about getting pictures and videos of the old landmark flash scattered lights that illuminate about every fifteen or so minutes. you and momo walk hand in hand along the parkside, talking about the many things that you two did over the summer while being apart, filling in on what the other has been up to besides texting and calling on a regular basis.

she’s taking pictures of you with the tower to share with your parents back home, you’re taking pictures of her—it’s all so candid and a much needed last minute date that was spontaneous. you didn’t want to consider it to be stress relief, but momo was a breath of fresh air in your life that was clouded with the constant loop of work, work, work, and work.

there’s a nearby night market in a plaza on the way back that caught the attention of momo. specifically, the vintage clothes that were hanging alongside the canopy on display and momo trying to negotiate which pieces to buy for her own closet while your held her handbag still in a guarding position, but with a much more relaxed stature. she’s laughing with the vendor, and you’re nothing but heart eyes for her.

forty-five minutes went by in a flash, and you’re back in the hotel hallway of momo’s room. your hand is laced with hers while the other was holding a paper bag filled with clothes that she bought from that market.

you’re at the door of her room, keycard pressed against the lock and she walks in, handing her the bag along with a few other items that you held onto for her which were just additional essentials. checking the time on your watch, it was almost one in the morning and the calltime to get everyone set up and ready was between 7 to 8, so it wasn’t too bad but you’re in no place to complain.

“thank you,” you breathe out, standing in the middle of the doorway like a girl scout selling cookies, staring at momo’s bare face again, her eyes open wide like boba balls with that same soft smile again. “i needed this, so much.”

momo doesn’t say anything, she just steps into your bubble again, arms enveloping you. every worry that you carried through your bones suddenly vanished at the presence of momo’s heartbeat next to your chest. her hands find themselves on both sides of your face, lips coming in contact with yours again, savoring any last bit you could before letting her off for the night.

“you are…” the words are muttering out of your mouth, momo’s lips brushing against yours as she hums, the feeling of her giddiness spreading to you. she pecks you again to shut you up.

“sometimes you talk too much y/n.” momo says, pushing you away and out of her door before getting ready to close the door. “get some rest babe, you’re gonna need it.”

before she could close the door on you, you lean for another kiss, “see you in the morning.” you say to momo, giving a quick one again before you’re waving her down the hallway. you didn’t have to say anything or need to, the actions you had spoke more louder than your words ever could and momo understood this, doing a little heel tap before entering the elevator down to your hotel room’s level.

the main event of paris fashion week, and this was just the opening.

“shin ryujin.” you say, clasping the younger woman’s hand with an iron grip, “last i heard, you were a liaison for jihyo and now look at you; primary team leader for her agency.”

“dreamt big, and got the promotion.” she beams, flashing glances to wonwoo and karina who were behind you in front of the hotel lobby waiting for the suv’s to arrive for today’s activities.

“i believe you know the plan for today y/n?”

“pretty much straightforward, you’ll be with us and we’ll meet with your people at the venue already.”

ryujin nods at the memorization, “are you sure that’s all?”

you nick your head off to the side with a laugh, “how could i forget about the after party activities?”

right on cue, yoona calls you from the spinning door, the rest of momo’s entourage walking out with momo already prepared in her look for tonight. it was a simple blue denim croptop and jeans that hugged all of the curves on her body in all of the right places. her back was exposed for everyone to see and her makeup didn’t look to be too extensive–much like a simple touch up and her wolf cut looked dashing when it was all properly styled, her bangs were a signature part of her look and my god she looked good.

okay, stay on task here, you shouldn’t be leering on the job anyway.

so you turn around to give the three people behind you a quick word, “you know the teams, you know the assignments, keep the radio channels open in case anything pops up. are we clear?”

“crystal.” ryujin and karina both say in unison, while wonwoo simply nods at you.

“good, let’s have a good day, people.” you say before dispersing into your respective cars heading off towards the venue for the fashion show.

when the group arrives at the venue, you immediately hear the murmurs from the crowds standing in the barricades increase to more screams once you open the door for momo to walk out. the entire place went bonkers as momo made her way past the red carpet, stopping for a photo op that showed her outfit again and the waves of flashes were just everything thrown at her all at once.

you stand off to the side, watching momo indulge in the limelight before she walks over to your direction after being prompted by mingyu to proceed walking indoors. momo flashes a smile at you while you raised your arm to the side to guide her past the door when ryujin comes up in your earpiece.

“y/n?”

“go ahead ryujin.”

“i got a text from karina, she said that their suv broke down on the way here.”

that can’t be good.

“how bad in terms of time are we talking?” you ask ryujin through your wrist, trying to mask the sound so that there’s no interference, walking indoors to better the quality of your talking.

“shouldn’t be that long, but we’re hoping that they can be here by the time the event is halfway over.”

“you’re saying that we’ll be short-handed by the time the after party rolls around?”

“sorry, you know this is out of our control.”

“i know,” you say with a hand raised up, trying to calm yourself down. “stick to the plan, i’ll get in touch with karina and them when i can.”

ryujin acknowledges before the earpiece goes silent again with exchanges from other guards from both of your teams. you weren’t the kind of person to be stressed with things like these, but you had an uneasy feeling that if things didn’t go to plan, it struck a bad nerve in your head.

strike one: have key members in your team deserted leaving you short-handed.

the fashion show however was well organized and thought out. the seating arrangements looked to be in a more open setting with no chairs, but stone seats with the runway already set up. you meet up with keji and tzuyu who were on the other side covering one of the exits, in clear line of sight where momo was sitting. she had her leg crossed over the other that was lady-like, and you observed her as she watched the models showcase the new fall/winter looks that were set to be released in due time.

“say, didn’t you do modeling y/n?” you hear keji ask you on your right side, earning a chuckle from you that helped ease your mind just a bit. “i could’ve sworn you should be walking on that runway too right now if you wanted to.”

“are you saying that i can serve like those girls in those oversized suits and dresses?” you ask keji as tzuyu giggles on the opposite end, causing you to roll your eyes at the two rookies that you brought onto this assignment. “maybe i can, but to answer your question, i did do a photoshoot while on vacation.”

“no way really?”

“i’ll save showing the pictures when all of this is over.”

once the showcase was all done and over with, momo was advised to attend the miu miu provided after party that included a dinner and various interactions with other celebrities. again, it wasn’t too crazy but the fact that tonight wasn’t swinging your way in terms of logistical planning, you had to be flexible.

the dining hall looked way more sophisticated that could be on par with the setup of the fashion showcase. it was more of a lively food spot with a bar attached rather than a usual restaurant, with a lot of seating arrangements spread out across. you find momo sitting in the middle of some fancy table alongside what you assumed was another brand ambassador that miu miu had invited out with wongyoung. their conversation seemed to be lively as the pair shared a smile together over the loud crowd of people around you.

you find yourself keeping a close eye on her from time to time throughout the dinner. momo looked fully immersed back at the showcase and the dinner, her eyes wide like saucers. she sneaks a few quick glances at you and you’re doing the same, through the camera flashes and your head moving like a swivel to ensure everything is in shape.

after everyone continued to enjoy themselves with the complimentary dinner provided by the fashion company and organizers, you get pulled off to the side by keji who played messenger via ryujin outside where the management and various workers were outside in a small pavilion.

“fill me in with what you got.” you say to ryujin, turning away from the two people that she was talking with—automatically assuming that they were her people that she brought over on this double-op assignment.

“you want the good news or bad news?”

“is there any difference between the two?”

ryujin giggles at the banter you’re effortlessly producing. “so bad news is, karina, mingyu, and wonwoo won’t be able to make it tonight.”

well, shit.

“the good news is! i have these two with me to help fill you in with the workload.”

you wished she hadn’t said that. because those two people that ryujin was talking with appeared right behind her—and you’re just forced to deal with it.

chanyeol, on her left may look like a saint, but you could tell that he was bad news. as for the person on her right side, was someone that you had a vendetta against. you definitely wished that karina and mingyu were in their place in addition to tzuyu and keji.

“heechul,” you say, “i didn’t expect you–”

“it’s good to see you too y/n,” the sickening man in front of you replies, “i admit that i screwed up, and i’m here to give a sense of consolation with this new role. i promise, my act is clean now, and it’s a new start for me. let me prove that to you and ryujin, please.”

your blood is straight boiling at the fact that you’re in the presence of this guy, but you have to focus on the task at hand and see the whole week assignment through, but you’re definitely gonna give nayeon a hearing once you get back from paris.

“now that you guys are acquainted, we’re getting wheels up in about fifteen minutes. y/n and heechul, i’m gonna have you guys grab momo and her team while chanyeol and i get the cars outside.” ryujin instructs you, pointing to the exit with her finger.

flashing a look at heechul, you cringe at the sight of his smile before rolling your eyes. “you can count on us ryujin.” heechul says before nodding himself off to get in the vibrant crowd. ryujin notices your expression and body language, sensing that something was off with you.

“is something the matter?”

“yeah, why the hell is he here with you on this assignment?”

“y/n, hechul was desprate for a second chance, and jihyo gave it to him.”

“but–”

“i’m aware of his past actions, but give him a chance.”

you sigh out, arguing wasn’t gonna make this assignment any better. “fine,” you say, “just this once.”

ryujin taps your shoulder before her and chanyeol both walk away from you. this day couldn’t get any worse as it is.

strike two: find out that one of your past workers is on the same assignment with you and gets you in a more pissy mood.

from the more expensive, regal fashion showcase and food spot, the location changes to a nightclub setting that was completely cleared out for momo’s entourage. the place named ‘crazy horse paris’ was also a nightly hotspot for club goers on a weekend basis—but this came as a surprise since one of momo’s songs just went platinum in the charts, so it was only right for another small celebration to be held.

in the midst of all the strobe lights flashing in the club with the firework candles in a cut out record of momo’s song, it was nice to let loose a little bit. the exchange of the provided dinner that was filling was no substituted with small snacks and alcohol. not bad for a successful fashion week outing right?

everyone makes the rounds of the plethora of drinks; beer, wince, hennessey, whiskey, there were a lot of people relaxing on this lovely thursday night. the loud music bumping your eardrums as you’re observing momo’s management taking shots, and even tzuyu and keji who were having a little bit of fun so you’re also keeping an eye on them.

your arm gets bumped at the bar while watching everyone lose themselves in the music from the dj, and you turn to see that ryujin is offering you a drink.

“you a heavy?” she asks, taking her offer of the glass of whiskey before raising her glass up for a quick cheers.

“i’ve had a couple already,” you reply, downing the burning alcoholic drink in one swig, placing the cup down on the bar before sliding it across for the bartender who nods at you for keeping him occupied. “that’s my last one though, can’t be having too much now.”

“that’s fine,” ryujin says, matching your stature with her body facing towards the dance floor, before she looks down on her watch to see that she received a phone call. “shit, i gotta take this, it’s jihyo.”

you nod her off, implying that you got everything covered for now but you realize that you haven’t seen momo since the cake celebration. “say, where’s momo?”

“she’s in one of the private rooms.” ryujin answers, pointing to the small pathway that leads down to the rooms that she just mentioned. you give her one more look as ryujin picks up the phone before heading out of the club outside to take the call.

not long after, you’re in the hallway of the private rooms, each one with their own door to give a sense of privacy for those groups who did buy it ahead of time. the first three doors were just various groups of people who were already in the club before you and momo’s team arrived, so you didn’t have to worry about them.

but then you were at door number four. and you could hear momo’s laugh through the cracked opening.

like the peeping tom that you were (it’s your job to be curious), you peer through the opening a little wider to see momo’s back facing you. she appeared to be dancing to the music that was playing from the tv speakers. her movements looked to be more alluring, seductive. the nerves in your brain are racking with so many questions to why and who is she dancing for. so you sneak in quietly to see two men on the couch, clearly enjoying the show that momo is giving them.

“you guys like what you see?” momo asks, her words are slurred together from the barely coherent sentence. the movement of her hands up her waist, showing off the curves from her different outfit that was a tank top with black biker shorts.

“i love what i’m seeing here ms. momo, a lot.”

that voice…there’s no fucking way right?

“why don’t you give us a little more skin honey?”

oh, this isn’t good at all.

momo hums out delightfully, taking off her tank top to reveal a skimpy white push-up bra, fiddling with the latch behind her with one hand before ripping off the undergarment from her body. you immediately shoot straight up, glaring at the two men sitting on the couch, their dress shirts slightly unbuttoned and momo turns around, her bare tits in full display. this was your nuclear bomb, and the explosion was imminent.

“christ, what the actual fuck you two?!” you spit out, the sight of heechul and chanyeol’s expressions shrinking away now that they’ve been caught. heechul’s caught in your wave of anger again, and this time was much worse than the previous incident.

“y/n, we—”

“oh, don’t play that card with me!” you begin, stepping closer to the two disgusting men that were now sitting up, preparing to hear an earful from you, shoving chanyeol into the cushions first before flying a fist to heechul’s face, giving him a proper black eye. “i’ve had enough of your bullshit today!” you yell out before tossing momo her discarded clothes. “put these back on, we’re leaving.”

“what? already?!” momo whines, half-sober, half-drunk. she’s definitely smashed, but there’s more pressing problems that need to be dealt with.

you grip her by the arm, pulling her closer to you before your hand snakes down to her waist. the harsh action making momo flustered at your touch when your face is extremely close to hers. the hoodie that she tossed is now being put on by you, giggling uncontrollably at herself because her arms are up in the air before setting the hood on her head to cover her up. “i think we should call it a little early, yeah? what do you think momo?”

“you’re a party pooper.” momo says, her eyes half closed, still smiling.

“unbelievable.” you say harshly, tensing your jaw again once you laid eyes on chanyeol and heechul, checking his fingers for blood on his face. you could do a whole lot more damage, but your words are the most powerful tool in your arsenal, and it won’t be ignored by the higher ups.

“let’s go.” the anger in your voice not reaching momo since she’s still chuckling even when you’re escorting her out of the private room and into the front of the bar of the club when ryujin comes back from her phone call with jihyo.

“woah, where are you taking momo?” she asks, puzzled at momo’s drunken state while she’s staring at your side profile.

“i’m taking her back to the hotel personally. she was in a private room with heechul and chanyeol giving them a show.”

“you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“tell yoona that i’ve got this, we can deal with those two knuckleheads later.”

strike three: find out your girlfriend was almost taken advantage of by two absolute fucking clowns calling themselves bodyguards.

you’re dragging momo through the hotel hallway, listening to her hums as you place the keycard on the lock, pulling her in and slamming the door immediately after so hard that you might’ve just broke the deadbolt.

momo stands against the closed door leading to the bathroom, her head is somewhat ringing but still conscious to some extent about her actions realizing that she had done fucked up—

“do you have any idea of the amount of shit that you just put yourself in? letting those two fuckwads have their way with you and you’re just allowing it?” you exclaimed, giving no care for the other hotel guests with the amount of yelling that you’re doing already.

standing super close in front of momo, the roles are reversed from when she came to see you the day before and your overwhelming heat was slowly growing within—her cunt pulsing at the tone that you’re using as all that she could do was let out a small whimper, shrinking away into the door behind her.

“y/n," momo slurs out, "i—”

“one: you’re smashed. two: i might come under fire for what i did to bring you back here, and—”

you meet momo’s gaze to notice that her eyes were lidded, she’s doing that devilish smirk that’s tugging at the corner of her lips. looking off to the side before you force her to stand straight up, gripping her arm and shoulder, pressing her to the drywall even more.

momo presses her legs together, she’s never seen you this angry before, especially at her, and she’s liking it.

so with just a little push, you look at her again at the low groan she lets out, seeing that her bottom lip is retracted into her mouth with her teeth just peeking out.

don’t. break.

there’s an intensity through your eyes, bewildered at what you’re doing before the synapses in your brain fully registers what’s present in the moment, and what you’re going to do next, clenching your teeth before parting your lips after with a subtle smile.

you grab momo’s face that lets a small gasp out, letting this newfound opportunity tempt you with all of it’s weight, looking at the flushed cheeks and glowing complexion from the alcohol, scoffing at the state your girlfriend was in currently.

“maybe this bitch needs to have the attitude fucked out of her no?” you mutter, causing momo to moan out with the proposition before pulling her closer to your face, “you’re insane for making me like this, and now you’re gonna pay for it.”

yeah, you’re definitely insane.

strike four: teach your girlfriend how she should be handled after being stupid.

it only took a few steps for you to toss momo on the edge of the bed, her lower half hanging over on the floor as she tried to get up in an attempt to reposition herself, but you pin her down with your flat palm on her back, letting your hand feel out her tapered and exposed waist. momo swallows a gulp, still anticipating what you were going to do next, “feel free to stop me at any time, but you probably won’t do that because you’re liking this so much are you? prissy little slut.”

momo is still wrecked over the alcohol that’s pummeling in her head for now at least, but she hums softly while nodding to comply with the lasting boundary you’ve set up before stripping off your blazer and rolling up your sleeves.

she feels your hands on her waist again. the rigidness of your fingers makes her body shiver at how gentle it is initially, but the roughness behind it when you clutch the sides of her waist. your hands find the waistband of her shorts, pulling it off of her to reveal momo’s exposed ass and the skimpy black thong she was wearing under as well.

“first you give a strip show and you’re wearing a fucking string as your underwear? you reallyyyy want me to set you right don’t you?” you scoff as you knead momo’s ass with your one hand before giving a firm hit that sets the tone with how high-pitched momo’s yelp spills out of her lips.

there’s a firm red mark from the first strike, and you’re tilting your head at how your hand slightly stings from the slap, so of course you’re gonna go back for more. if she’s gonna act like a slut the way you found out what she was doing, how could you not give her the proper punishment that she deserves?

her ass is now beet red, and you’re biting your lip at the sight of momo’s legs wiggling on the edge of the bed and the whimper she’s sounding off like she’s asking to be used as a way to let your frustrations out especially the day you just had leading up to this.

you then rip off your dress shirt and toss it carelessly to the nearby seat next to the coffee table, and momo sees the white cloth hit the chair before you slide your hands up her waist underneath the hoodie you put on, feeling her breasts without the bra since she took it off back at the nightclub.

the shiver that seethes out of momo’s teeth when your fingers find her nipples, pinching the buds to tracing around her mounds with your fingertips before lightly scratching her chest that earns a string of breathy whimpers of being toyed around. "y-y/n, please--" she mumbles out barely.

you then lean over to momo’s side, hand sliding across her ass that catches the leaking arousal from her pussy, massaging her ass before giving it another harshful slap. “need me that badly huh?” you’re smiling against the cuff of her ear at what momo has become and you haven’t even slipped your fingers and tongue inside her yet. “gotta ruin you first, but i promise to take care of you after, be patient for me baby.”

momo’s face scrunches as you loosely press your lips to her face before sliding off the hoodie leaving momo completely naked on the bed still bent over, waiting to be fucked dumb by you.

“hands behind your back, stack your wrists on top of each other.” you say sternly, and all that momo can do is just comply with your commands, exhaling out in desperation but also eager the way she’s moving her head left and right with the lasting touches you’re giving her to her ass and folds with your single finger, smirking at how she’s shuddering.

you then unlink the belt from your pants, folding it in half before creating a small opening loop that creates a loud 'slap' of the fine italian leather. momo feels the grooves of the accessory and the coldness of the buckle before you give her a light hit at the same red mark that makes momo's legs squirm in the sharp, pleasureable pain.

"f-fuck-"

another two or three slaps follow after that.

"we learned our lesson yet?" you ask, gripping the nape with your head over to the side of her ear. momo throws her head back whining, fighting the pain coming from below and the throbbing in her pusling cunt that's all too present now. "yes y/n- it feels-"

"i'm not convinced with your answer." you say, noncomittal with your actions saying otherwise. you continue with a few more light slaps to give more leniency before wrapping the belt around momo’s stacked wrists behind her back before fastening it tightly, leaving a little bit of room for momo to move her hands around.

once both hands were bound together, momo feels a sudden stillness in the air, lifting the upper half of her body slightly to shift herself on the bed only to be pushed down by your hand on the small of her back just over her tied hands, looking over her shoulder to give your eyes the wonderful view of your girlfriend being submitted to the brand new y/n she managed to crack. the towering presence taking you to new heights. “wow, you do look good from behind.”

your hands start to shift over to the sides of momo’s waist, feeling the slimness of her figure before trailing down to the slopes of her ass, letting your fingers join together to cup them as momo squirms at the sensation of your cooling touch. she’s humming out a sound from her closed lips, almost like appreciative tone the way her side profile is hinting towards a smirk– “please, y/n, i need you—”

she needs this, and you’re considering the cards in your hand right now; give in and let momo have her way with you outstandingly topping her, or make her beg to get the drunk horniness fucked out of her.

so, you go with the second option.

“how badly do you want me inside?” you mutter, kissing the top of her rear shoulder blade before your lips start to canvas the small divot of her spine. “were the cameras at the show and the two guys leering at you not enough?”

“mmmph…” momo croons, hiding her face before you smack her ass again from the side this time, shooting her face out in response to the pain. “god, w-why are you—”

“answer the question babes, do you want me inside of you? yes or no?”

momo hides her face again, before letting out a whiny coherent sentence that you could barely hear, but you need to drag it out of her. “final warning, if you want me to give you what you want, beg for it. i need you to say it out loud for me.”

“y-you, you– you–”

“speak up love, i wanna hear your lovely voice.”

for two short seconds, you wait for an answer, and then—

“please baby, i want you now. i want you to fuck me with my hands tied till i won’t be able to walk. fuck, you’re such a tease, just make me yours.” she slurs out, but the neediness overpowered the alcohol in her system that makes it easy for you to understand.

while she was saying that, your left hand was already primed hovering over her cunt, the last bit of teasing—the best possible punishment that you could give momo as you’re fighting the urge to let your fingers dive into the heat.

“you already are.” you say, and dip the pads of your middle and ring finger into her cunt, letting momo find that searching ache- or, at least the sounds that were music to your ears as she cursed out a noise before shoving her face into the sheets, her fists clenching through the tied leather.

there’s no warning or preface, just the coaxed maneuver of your fingers all up inside her, twisting and turning against the slick leaving no remorse as you upped the pace. you know how momo likes it when you turn up the tempo of your thrusting hand, she’s swallowing hard and clenching her teeth because of it and she’s babbling to the point where you can sense the tension from her expression and increase of pitch in moans.

her eyes are closed throughout the entirety of the short time, considering how much you riled her up with your whole act of pinning her in the wall and the mattress to get her to almost cum, catching her hands slack from fists to near cupping hands. momo’s at her high, but you curl your fingers and slide out completely, tearing it away from her.

“n-no no, fuck what are you doing, i—”

you’re snickering as momo’s brows knit together before fluttering her eyes open darting to meet, pleading you everso to let her cum.

“don’t,” you warned, “i was easy on you before, but now i’ll treat you like the bitch that you deserve to be treated.” sliding your hand up slowly on the side of her waist while your other hand was grazing over the marked ass you created.

without warning, you smack her ass again that makes her yell out loud enough for the next door guests to hear, before subduing that with the soothing upward swipe of your flattened tongue that earns a hitched breath and a moan filled with satisfaction the way you’re lapping up momo’s soaked cunt for the time being–an act of generosity that is all a facade that’s part of the play for now.

“mmnh–” you groan against the searing core, all that you want to, “so fucking good baby.”

momo gives you a subtle “mhm hm” with her eyes still closed, biting her lip at the feeling of your mouth on her swollen pussy before the intensity increases with your two fingers now inserted into play.

you almost get caught off track with the amount of time you indulge yourself with momo’s pussy bent over against the bed, palm and fingers splayed on her lower back as the other hand is working along with your tongue working to get her close, then again stopping once the hitched breaths are near its peak.

pulling away with a kiss and a bite to the inner thigh, momo squirms again when she realizes that the feeling of your fingers and tongue are no longer there, only to be substituted with your moving hands on her hips, pulling her up to the bed and deepening her arched back. her knees are already bent like they’re kneeling that opens up her pretty, puffy pussy lips. the sight alone makes you want to frame it in a sex museum, but this is momo’s pussy, your pussy to tear up, and no one else’s.

leaving teasing touches with just your fingers dancing along the slopes and curves of her body, you go at it again with another quick round, pumping inside of her that makes her come close to her climax again, snatching it away in quick successions, you’re also planting marks on her back while you listened to the heavenly moans that cancels out the frustrations you had earlier today while on the job.

momo is going to be so thoroughly fucked, left breathless when you finally set her free from the tied belt, her wrists marked red from how much she rubbed the leather against her skin.

“flip,” you order, “and don’t even think about moving. i’ll put you how i want you to be.”

in the hopes of you letting her cum (for the first time tonight at least), momo follows your demands, doing exactly as she’s told by flipping herself over, barely able to prop herself up on her elbows, as you give teasing kisses to her chest, working your way up to her mouth that eases her mind for just a bit.

“arms up.” and momo listens as a smirk forms at the corner of your lips against hers, your hand fishing for the necktie while your face was occupied. you then straddle momo over her chest, wrists crossed at the top of the headboard with a small knob that was perfect for you to wrap around with the tie, securing it firmly but also just leaving with enough room for momo’s hands to move around (you were liking it when you see her squirm with her hands.)

once that was set, you then meet your gaze with hers, giving another sensual kiss for a few seconds before trailing down to the hollow of her throat, leaving light marks before crossing off the mental checklist in your head of how to push momo’s buttons.

hands on breasts, massaging them with the addition of the mouth on her nipple, causing her to moan at the contact, stimulating as your rough palms glide over and below her upper chest. momo’s cunt is throbbing uncontrollably from the few times you’ve edged her and how you’re doubling down your efforts in overestimation is clouding her mind from the relentless pleasure she received from tonight so far.

“we liking this, are we?” you murmur against her skin.

“please, god i– nmh”

“all of this riling and you still want me to do something about it? pitiful.” you laugh before leaving another dark mark on her torso.

“i won’t like it, i swear— wanna be ruined….just fucking destroy me…” momo sighs out, her eyes blinking repeatedly as your gaze shifts lower and lower until you finally reached to her swollen, soaked cunt. “y/n—” she’s begging so much more than before, and you almost feel bad. "please, wanna cum so bad..."

“shhh, maybe.” you mutter over her face for another chaste kiss to her cheek and jaw. “we think we deserve it now?”

momo can only whimper at the question as you give her a meaningful kiss that was gentle, her body easing from the tension of your touch as a flick of your tongue across her lips, relaxing for just a moment before you pull away.

the sight of her bent over for you was enough to get off on, but when you look at momo’s gaze—the way she’s leaking neediness: her lips are swollen, chest heaving with heavy breaths, cheeks tinted with a highlighted pink redness all over, her eyes are nearly crossed from your kisses like she’s dizzy for more.

momo’s eyes flutter shut once again as you kiss her cheek, the small area behind her ear that she adores you for letting her know that you’re still pushing all the right spots together the more you move further and further down to her hips—where her cunt awaits as she feels your lips moving closer from her inner thighs.

sensitivity was something that you were hyper aware of, honing in your ears to the sounds and breaths that really makes momo cry out, praying that you’d give her what she wants. the pecks were then exchanged for the sudden surge once your lips finally latch onto her pussy, and momo bucks her hips forward while your hand hooks onto them, keeping her in place.

you’re letting her find it, tongue and mouth swirling and humming in all the ways you know that makes momo crazy. her thighs are pressed against the sides of your head, prolonging the sensation with your nose buried into her clit. you feel the tension building up within her—right where the sounds are at the apex—and you shift your head off to the left suddenly, yanking the orgasm away once again.

“that’s my girl.” pulling back to mutter against her leg, looking upwards to see momo’s head rolled back, and her wrists are fighting against the tied fabric from their crossed ‘X’ position.

“y/n, please.” she begs again, “you’re so– so bad, baby i can’t—”

you’re trailing your mouth up her body again, hands grazing the fine line hinted at her abs. “so amusing…” you mutter out, running a finger along her jawline from the end of her jaw to the tip of her chin. “dripping from being worked up so much by me…”

a hand is combing momo’s tangled wolfcut, and your head is at an angle with the most devilish smirk as your kneecap touches the heat between her legs, running your hand to feel the seeping slick that’s coming out of her, and another whiny remark is let out at the reeling notion of your touch.

“fuck, just ngh– i’m– can’t be nmh—”

she’s speaking complete nonsense at this point, and you can’t ignore the remarks at this stage now. your lips retreat from nibbling her ear lobe as your hand works simultaneously, inserting into her folds again that leaves momo shaking. more marks are now seen across her body from her neck to her chest, fuck they might as well be bruises at this point the way you’re just chewing away at the enticing body that’s lying under you.

another harsh bite sends momo screaming, keeping your mouth occupied with the three digits already pumping in her, a subtle nudge of her clit with your thumb that has momo somewhat say your name loudly, eyes rolled all the way back with her mouth wide open, she might just go numb at this point.

“such a good fucking girl mo, take it like the pretty slut you are…”

the breathy pants get a lot bigger in the hotel room as you thrust mercilessly into her, it’s all instinct at this point as one more push was good enough to get her across and she finally cums all over your fingers after all that degrading and teasing you’ve put her through, hips shivering as her ass is off the mattress.

“hnngh! oh fuck!, god i’m cumming, c-cumming–”

it's so hot when you're like this for me.

momo’s high was only short lived when your lips are on her nipple again, nibbling on the bud with a little more ferocity as her elbows try to tense forward, but the necktie holding her on the headboard keeps her from buckling in. it sends a short circuit through her entire nervous system.

no chance to recover for momo, shaking her head with her teeth clattering against itself, you continue to mark up her chest again, leaving a noticeable bite mark on the rim of her shoulder. momo starts to see sparkles in her head, and her vision starts to zone out. this was a first for her being used like this, used by you; for your own benefit to completely have control over.

“god, shit– wai—no–pleas–” she tries to cry out, voice nearly breaking, and her face is scrunched up to the maximum.

“you can tell me to stop mo, do you want that?”

you can only see momo’s heaving chest rising and falling at an alarming rate, but she shakes her head with her fists clenched through the necktie. “i’m giving you what you want, so fucking deal with it.”

momo has gone multiple rounds with you before; but after being edged to the point where she could just cum in quick successions? you’ve managed to learn that about her body faster than she realized, which is impressive to say the least, one of the many tricks you’ve managed to master. so you bite her nipple again, inciting a moan and her legs close around your hand, wiggling your fingers sliding in and around her walls to get her going again in no time.

a litany chorus of your name being sung through her vocal chords with a mixture of a cry breaking through in between shaken breaths, and momo is trying everything in her power to just see it through—even if tears are starting to stream down her eyes. her walls clamp down on your fingers again, pumping through it, but now you leave a trail of nibbles down her body again before shifting to the lower part of the bed and back to her cunt, joining your fingers with the swipe of your tongue.

“no—no no no, wait, bab- y/n– fuck, go easy p-please, i’m sensitiv–”

“i could care less of a shit if you can’t handle it anymore, you owe me a good meal.”

you’ve got four fingers in her at this point, and while you’re surprised by the stretch and the liquid sounds coming out of her fucked pussy, momo has blown past the point of no return, and you’re feeding into that as you slide your fingers out, letting your mouth finally have it’s chance to finish the job.

momo closes her legs around you again reflexively, but this time the pressing in between her heat was powerful enough for her to take your head off since she managed to crack your neck slightly.

you growl out at the act, pulling her legs apart before sliding your hands up to the bottom of her calves, raising both of them upwards for you to have free reign in shoving your face deeper into her cunt, tongue licking up the sweet arousal with no restriction. there’s a slight resistance, and you bite lightly to the side of her swollen lips.

“n-no more, please–p-pleas—”

“baby,” you tell your girlfriend who is completely fucked by your mouth, growling with a kiss to her asscheek, “keep your fucking legs up.”

momo can’t do much, nor that she had a say or fighting chance to do so. you’re holding her down as you eat her out, the pent up aggression and anger that you had for all of the things gone wrong clearly taken out on her. she lets out a piercing scream, (much more like a screech the way she’s shaking under your touch) and feels her body go limp, mind clearly passed from consciousness barely as she finally cums in your mouth, cleaning up her cream with your tongue, humming with the craving fully fulfilled while you help set momo’s legs down.

you give her pussy one last chaste kiss, before wiping off the last remnants of her cum from the bottom of your lips with her tongue and finger, sucking on it earnestly to prolong the taste. you’re panting out from exhaustion, and the entire lower half of your face is soaked, but the sight was all well worth the reward.

momo’s tied hands fall slack from the headboard, her head is off to the side, her eyes are closed, cheeks flushed pink with parted lips in inconsistent, labored breaths. her entire body is marked all over; the hickeys and bite marks are basked in glory of the light from the lamp, her thighs are pressed together, rubbing, hiding the additional marks on her legs and her clearly swollen pussy that’s also red.

you run your hand up her thigh again, and she whimpers at the slightest touch. every part of her body is either bucking or twitching as all that’s heard from momo’s lips was shaky breaths, the sensation hasn’t settled in her body or mind with the amount of back to back to back to back to back orgasms she had in one go. this might be a brand new record between the two of you and she looks way more ethereal the way she is just left in an absolute mess.

“fuck.” your mind was having trouble conjuring up the proper thoughts, your heart drawing these stuttering breaths that might seem unhealthy, the wave of hunger and lust finally peeling away from you. “fucking amazing.”

leaning over her, you untie her hands, holding them together as you shift momo over more into the bed, wrapping your arm around her as she’s still trembling from what just happened. “i’m proud of you momo, my pretty girl…crazy that you could handle all of me…” you sigh out, rubbing your thumb over her cheek, her eyes are still closed but she lifts a small smile of praise while you showered her with light kisses.

an intrusive thought washes over and you shift yourself away from momo’s lying body, setting yourself slightly on top of her but still on the bed, trailing your kisses from her exposed collarbone up to her neck—your lips catch the taste of salt from the tears that were streaming down from her face earlier, and she sniffles a bit when you wipe them away with a soft smile of appreciation.

“so fucking pretty.” you mumble out, and momo’s lidded eyes meet yours; the gaze softened when you start to rub your hand on her hip to help soothe the soreness as she used her remaining energy to lean up and lock lips with yours again. her hand resting on your shoulder as you plant more pecks along the line of her chin, the way her small fingers are slotted against your neck so modestly. “god, you’re so good to me…”

whenever momo wakes up from sleeping or a nap, her nose is always the first sense that picks up the tasty scent of food, it isn’t any different this time today.

she’s laying on her side, on the farthest end of the bed, eyes fluttering along with a slight headache from however many drinks she doesn't remember having from the night before. the familiar weight of your body absent behind her as she tries to sleep off the tingling that still lingers through her body, but she eventually moves around under the covers to notice that she’s wearing a hoodie now–the same hoodie from last night.

momo hears a faint conversation down the small walkway to the outside of the hotel room, but your voice was all familiar with that smooth and swift tongue speaking in french before the locks of the door are heard again.

you walk over with a tray, setting it down on the coffee table next to the bed before shifting your look towards the bed seeing momo’s face.

“you’re up.” you greet her with a gentle tone, one that is very very light-hearted whenever it’s just you two together. momo turns to her side again, prompting you to walk over to the far end of the bed, kneeling over give a few quick kisses on her cheek before fixing her disheveled hair.

“got you some breakfast, c’mon get up.” you say, “we have a free day to do whatever with the rest of the team later.”

a small giggle is heard from momo’s nose, before she doesn’t move to get up, rather scrunch up under the bedsheets protecting her like a little kid that’s scared of a monster. “um, can you carry me? i kinda can’t feel my legs…”

you look back with parted lips, forming a smile after with a laugh, “of course baby, anything for you.”

the hotel room service breakfast is pretty much normal just like any hotel. just your usual eggs, sausage, bacon, french toast, some waffles or pancakes, and a mix of fruits. you already finished half of your plate and now feeding momo a slice of the syrup drenched breadstick. “good, right?”

momo hums as she finishes up the last bits of her plate, the last thing was the glass of apple juice that was now put on the table. you wipe your face with a napkin before staring at momo again who just shys away since you’re staring at her for a little longer than usual.

“is there something on my face?”

“there is.” you answer, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek that had a little bit of whipped cream from the belgian waffles you two ate. momo blushes when you pull away and you’re wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb. “there, all better.” you say with a smile, getting up after.

“wait,” momo says, and your attention is on her again. she has her arms up with her legs on the seat of the chair.

“momo wants uppies?” you say cutely, and momo just nods. so you pick her up from the seat and set her on the bed, fixing up the covers to get more situated. it was a little early and most of the activities would be in the afternoon, so it wouldn’t hurt to just chill for a bit.

“sorry about last night…” momo says, twiddling her fingers together. “i got carried away with the drinks.”

“it’s okay.” you respond, kissing her hand to comfort her. “was i too much last night?”

“no, i actually liked it…”

“that so?” you ask, teasing momo as you move closer in the bed. “i don’t want to be the one to have all the fun, you know.”

“well, you can.” momo admits, and you’re folding yet again crawling on top of her, pecking her lips as momo melts into putty again, mumbling against her lips,

“expect more of that from me then.”

“what did you say to me again last night? that i made you insane?” momo responds, stealing another kiss from your stoic face. “i think you may be right.”

“what if we told yoona that we want to make this relationship public? i don’t wanna hide this anymore.”

momo ponders for a quick second, before locking onto your eyes again. “if we did, then everybody is gonna go–”

“insane.”

#saiiidahyunee #kpop x reader #twice x reader #twice imagines #twice smut #kpop smut #hirai momo #twice momo #momo smut #momo x reader

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cerastes · 5 months

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I can't stop thinking about Kristen, or some say, Kirsten's trap hole working on Saria, it's funny, sure, but it's deep in a sad way. It's a Zhuge Liang vs Sima Yi situation, the famous anecdote where Zhuge Liang had basically no one to defend a city against Sima Yi's sizeable army, but when he learned that it was Sima Yi that lead the army, he simply opened the doors and welcome them in. Sima Yi immediately looked at this and said Absolutely The Fuck Not, He's Got Irons On The Fires, Plans Upon Plans, and retreated. This was a bluff that would only work on Sima Yi, and only if Zhuge Liang would use it. It's such an obvious bluff, which any other general would call out, and no general in their right mind would use. But, because it was Zhuge Liang using it against Sima Yi, because of their shared story, Sima Yi got mind bamboozled into a "He knows I know, he knows I know he knows I know" bluescreen loop, because Sima Yi would never fall for such an obvious bluff, but it's Zhuge Liang using it, and Zhuge Liang KNOWS that Sima Yi would never fall for it, but then, that in itself could be a trap, but but but but but.

And so he left. He did not take his chances. It was a bluff that could only work on him, if used by exactly one person.

To me, the trap hole scene is kind of like this. Kristen knows Saria. Better than anyone else. To the point that she knew exactly where and when she'd say something, and when and how exactly she could catch her with the oldest trick in the Acme playbook. Saria. The woman who couldn't be stopped with the Kristen-designed Anti-Saria Wall, which possessed Screw Saria Particularly effects. You could hit Saria with a warhead and the warhead loses that one in all likelihood.

But Kristen doesn't need a wall or a warhead. Kristen knows Saria. Better than anyone else. She knows her so well, she can topple her with a flap on the floor.

And yeah that's hilarious and all, but also, so deeply sad, because it's basically an acknowledgement of just how much Kristen has paid attention, how well she knows her, how immensely knowledgeable Kristen is about Saria.

It's sad because Kristen does not care. She ultimately decided she doesn't value this. She knows. She observed. She lived the most beautiful moments of both of their lives together. And she decided it was worthless in the end, and that she didn't care. She saw all of this as nothing more than a weapon to make a trap door on the floor work. All of that.

This is what makes Kristen so immensely fascinating and chilling. It's not that she doesn't care in terms of ignoring the world around her. Oh, she's observing, alright, she knows exactly what and who surrounds her. She simply doesn't care even if she knows all of these things. She doesn't care. Kristen Wright simply does not care. A level well above not noticing: She knows and observes and is aware, she simply decided those things are worthless.

That is the next level of indifference. I like her so much, she is awful.

#arknights #kristen #or some say #kirsten #I am so so so fascinated by her

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gurugirl · 11 months

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A Balancing Act | Ch. 1*

Series Summary: Harry is a famous, rich, handsome, pop star and he’s been in therapy since his boy band days. When he meets Y/n, a beautiful and successful artist, he cannot take no for an answer when it comes to her. He’s determined to make her his even if he has to bend the rules a little at first.

Chapter Summary: Meeting Harry Styles at the hotel she was staying at was a surprise. But to have him invite her to his room for a drink was unexpected.

Warning: smut

Word Count: 17,748

Commissioned by @cinnamonone (thank you!! xoxo)

A Balancing Act Masterlist

Harry remembers the days when he used to go into his therapist’s office for his sessions. But after fame hit the paps knew where he was going, learned his schedule, and he was constantly bombarded. And of course, the fans caught on so there’d be screaming people trying to get his attention as he hopped from his car to the back entrance.

Lately, though, she’d been coming to his house instead. She charged more for in-house visits but Harry wasn’t bothered by the extra cost. Her time and flexibility were worth it to him so he’d happily pay the added fee.

They normally sat in his office together for the sessions. It was always like chatting with a close colleague when he’d have her over. Harry would usually have pastries and green juice or matcha to share and they’d talk about their week. She’d even talk to him about hers a little. Which always made him feel so comfortable around her. It invited him to really open up and he learned to be vulnerable with her over time.

He'd been seeing her since his One Direction days which meant in-person visits weren’t always possible if he was traveling, but Pat took a lot of late-night calls and FaceTime time sessions over the years. And Harry trusted her more than he trusted most people. She’d earned his trust. She’d heard his deepest, darkest secrets and knew all the dirty details about all of his past loves and flings. She wasn’t a sex therapist but she often gave him advice that helped him in that department.

And today she was doing just that. Listening to him drone on about his last lover, the older woman with two children who left her fiancé to be with him. He felt bad about everything in their relationship – from the beginning, he knew it wasn’t going to last and it was only meant to be a quick fling. But then he did develop feelings (Harry loved to fall in love and it was usually quite messy) against his better judgment. And then when she left the father of her children it became even more complicated.

“I just felt like I owed her. She’d given up so much for me and it was crazy of me to feed into that. I should have told her then and there that we wouldn’t end up together but I think a part of me just wanted to have the stability. But instead, it just dragged on for too long.” Harry had recently seen her at an event and she ignored him, just as he ignored her, but that didn’t mean it didn’t affect him because here he was in therapy with Pat talking about her.

Pat tapped her pen on her notepad and nodded. She’d heard all this before. But the guilt he felt was continually bubbling up and pouring out in their sessions even though they’d been broken up for the better part of a year.

“Harry, let’s talk about that. The stability part. Do you feel like you still need to be in a relationship to be stable? We’ve worked on this in the past and it sounds like that’s still a constant in your romantic attitude.”

Harry knew he was someone that just loved being with someone. Long-term, a week, a night… he just enjoyed the attention and he loved giving attention. And he was good at it. Well, he gave a lot of himself even if the relationship wasn’t serious. That’s just how he was.

“I know I need to be more confident to be alone and not have someone in my bed or my life all the time. I mean, I haven’t even had sex in like, a month.”

Pat laughed and shook her head, “I know Harry. And probably the whole world too. I know how hard that is for you – to never be able to have any privacy even if it’s just something fun," she paused as nodded, "And so a month... That's not really that long, but I’m assuming you’re referring to the model you were with in Tokyo about month ago? Pictures of you two were plastered everywhere.”

Harry nodded and chuckled, “Oh yeah. That was just… we were drunk so I wasn’t careful but I had fun ya know? I just want to be able to have fun and not deal with the public knowing that we probably fucked. Or all the weird speculation. It’s not anyone’s business. Sometimes I make mistakes and get caught in public but it’s tiresome. I want to be able to go out and do normal things but I can’t.”

Again, these were all things Pat knew about and had heard verbatim. She truly felt for him, though. Was even protective of him as if he were her son. Harry was so charming and likable and just a genuinely nice person that it was hard not to feel like he needed protecting at times.

But what could she do? He was a grown man now. A grown man who enjoyed love and all the kinds of things that went with it. But more than that he loved his job. Which was where the biggest problem lie. Harry’s job was a drawback for most people he’d attempted a relationship with. Some could handle the long distance, the frequent flights and stays at hotels, eating and dressing and showering on the road, screaming fans, women and men throwing themselves at him, stalking him, feeling entitled to his attention when he was out in public eating breakfast.

And he’d never give any of it up for a relationship. But that didn’t make it easy. Harry hardly remembered what it used to be like before he became famous. He was catapulted into the limelight as a teenager and was in one of the most popular boybands the world had ever known. But when he went off on his own for a solo career, assembled a talented group for his band, cut off his long hair, and began writing songs and crooning in well-fitted suits in small venues and theaters his fame rose year by year. Every album he put out was more popular than the one before.

With fame came flocks of fans. Who were willing to do nearly anything to get a glimpse up close of the charming boy with big green eyes, sweet dimples, and a deep voice. So yeah. Relationships suffered.

“You always have the option to just stop. Finish off your contract and then forget about fame. But you don’t want that. So doing normal things in public will be hard while you’re so famous.”

“I know. I wouldn’t want to stop. I love what I do. Just wish I had more privacy.”

“But I’m proud that you’re not isolating like you did for a while there. Wouldn’t even answer my calls for some time. Remember? You’re doing okay now, though. I think you’re improving. Your fame continues to grow and you are adjusting to it.”

Harry nodded, “Yeah. That was a rough go. Not being able to see family or close friends during the pandemic really got to me. I am still surprised by how I responded to that all that. Doesn’t feel like that was me, you know? Feels like such a long time ago.”

“It affected many people in ways they hadn’t realized it would. People who had never struggled with depression or drug use before had to fight for their lives to get better.”

“Yeah… I was just alone with all those thoughts. Missing… her. I even called her one night. Don’t remember the conversation because I had taken sleep pills right before but saw that I’d called her the night before when I looked through my phone. Realized it was bad then.”

“Camille?”

Harry shifted in his seat and sighed. He didn’t like to say her name. That had been the hardest breakup. Because he really loved her. It no longer stung like it used to but he thought of her often, “She had a boyfriend of course. Still does. And he’s far better for her. Can go with her whenever and wherever. And I couldn’t because I was so busy. And she couldn’t come with me either because she’s got her own acting and modeling career. Just… I’m okay with that all now. But there were nights when I was alone in that big house and I couldn’t stop picking apart all the things that went wrong between us.”

“Too much time to think. Even I dealt with overthinking and dwelling.”

Harry glanced at Pat and smiled, “We’re all so similar. Us humans. Even we can surprise ourselves at times by torturing our brains and combing over details long past.”

Pat was proud of how insightful Harry was and how far he'd come.

. . .

Harry’s next show was in Chicago. He was getting himself pumped up for stage time. His outfit was being tailored once again, his hair styled, a bit of bronzer and highlighter, moisturizer on his arms and torso, lips stained a deep berry shade, nails painted lavender…

Music and his fans and being on stage were Harry’s favorite things. Well, he had another favorite thing that he could have that very night. It was easy when he was on stage and singing his heart out. A little eye contact and a raised brow to the cute curvy girl with the big tits at the front of pit, a hand wave and a wink, a tequila ordered for the pretty blond in the balcony seats he had a good view of, or calling out the tall guy in the middle of his concert and continually flirting with him in front of thousands (millions after the videos made it to social media). It was easy. Harry just had it so he could really have his pick, for the most part. If he wanted.

And like every one of his sets, at the end he was exhausted yet pumped with adrenaline. Meeting some of his lucky fans and taking pictures backstage was par for the course. Nothing out of the ordinary for a night after a concert.

But he had another show the following evening and so Jeff was giving him the signal it was time to head out and get back to his hotel so he could call it a night. The morning of a show was always early for rehearsing, a good workout, an ice bath, meditation…

Harry was ushered into the back entrance of the posh hotel he was staying at and used the freight elevator to get to the top floor to his room without anyone seeing him. Which he hated. He hated having to hide and duck away from fans. Hated being treated like a big secret no matter where he went. But on the other side of the coin, he cherished his privacy so it was necessary.

Jeff left him alone after Harry settled into his suite. He had the TV on and was about to call his mom because she’d be up at that time, but then there was a knock at his door. It was past 12:30 am so he couldn’t imagine who it would be.

Harry slowly opened the door to see a hotel employee standing with a bouquet of flowers, “These were sent here earlier, Mr. Styles, but we forgot to put them in your room. My apologies for the mistake.”

Harry took the bouquet and smiled at the young man, slipping him a tip and telling him not to worry.

Pulling the card out of the flowers he put the lovely bouquet down on the buffet and opened it to find out who it was from.

“We miss you, H. Hope you’re well. Love XX”

It was his ex. The one he’d wasted nearly two years with. He’d gotten to know her children and this card was meant to pull at his heartstrings with the ‘we miss you’. And it worked. The guilt built up again. He didn’t miss her or their relationship, but the guilt he carried for everything that happened to them during and even after was upsetting. He just wished his life was truly private like a normal guy. And then maybe he could move on and get real closure.

And against Jeff’s advice, Harry decided to go down to the hotel bar by himself which would be open for another couple of hours. A drink would help. Maybe a chat with someone nice. He hoped there weren’t any crazy fans down there but he’d rather risk that than sitting alone in his suite for another minute.

The bar was mostly empty. There were a few couples at tables, some individuals sitting and drinking at the bar. Harry grabbed a small table near the front with a good view of the bar and was greeted quickly to get his order.

He looked around casually and realized no one seemed to notice him. It felt nice. A moment of peace in public without anyone snapping photos or taking videos.

Across from his small table was a woman he suddenly took note of. She was dressed smartly. A silky green blouse tucked into charcoal trousers. She was looking at her phone and sipping a cocktail of some sort. She was pretty with delicate features and he couldn’t help himself when he noticed her pretty round bottom taking up the stool she sat on. Harry wasn’t a pervert but he had the perfect view of her. He was just a man after all and he appreciated beautiful women and men at times.

The server brought his drink to him and grinned widely, “Enjoy your whisky neat, Mr. Styles.”

Suddenly the woman turned her head and made eye contact with Harry. Her eyes widened before she quickly looked back down at her phone. She recognized him. Harry knew right away. But he was intrigued that she looked away. He decided to get her attention.

“Wish I could do that.”

The woman lifted her head and turned to look at Harry, confusion on her face as she looked behind herself and then back to Harry, “Sorry, are you speaking to me?”

Harry chuckled, “Of course I am.”

She set her cell phone down and tilted her head as she turned toward him, “You wish you could do what?”

Harry nodded toward the cell phone she had on the table, “Scroll through social media so casually.”

She stitched her brows together as she looked down at her phone and then back to Harry, “What makes you think I was scrolling through social media?”

Harry laughed and he guessed that was a fair question, “You’re right. I guess I don’t know what you’re looking at. Sorry if I offended,” he lifted his glass up toward her and then took a sip.

She smiled and lifted her own glass and then took a sip in response.

But now Harry was very interested. He wondered what she was looking at but also found her response to be refreshing. Instead of fawning she was smart and snappy with him. Even though she clearly recognized him, she wasn’t giggling and asking for an autograph or a photo.

He stood up and took a chance to ask if he could join her. He knew it was gutsy but he was rarely turned down and the woman was intriguing.

“Mind if I sit here with you? A little company is nice.”

Now Y/n was very much feeling her nerves peak when she realized Harry Styles was sitting next to her table. And then he’d made conversation with her. She was surprised he was speaking to her at all and now here he was asking to sit with her. She had no reason to say no. So when she nodded and he pulled the stool out that was closest to hers and placed his whisky on the table she swallowed down the bubbling nerves and called on her natural self-confidence. She was a confident woman. She was successful and lived a good life that she worked hard for. She was smart and grounded. But she was also hyper-aware that she was not his type. So even if for the briefest moment she thought she caught him looking at her ass she had to have been wrong.

Their conversation was surprisingly fascinating to her. She imagined he’d have a lot of things to say but she didn’t realize he was such a deep and interesting person. His insight was very spot on and he was sensitive and a good listener.

When the server came over and told them it was last call they both ordered one more drink. Y/n wasn’t ready to call it a night and neither was Harry.

“So, what are you here for, in Chicago, exactly?”

“Oh, there is an art show this weekend. I, uh… I have a bunch of my pieces at the Carrie Secrist Gallery right now.”

Harry paused. She mentioned she was an artist but he didn’t realize she was here for work, “Wow. Really? Carrie Secrist Gallery,” he said the name of the gallery quietly as if to catalog the information, “So will you be here tomorrow night again?”

“Yes. Booked the room for the weekend. I leave Sunday afternoon. Hopefully, my work gets all sold so I don’t have to repack and ship it back home.”

Harry nodded and watched her lips as she spoke and then her eyes. He couldn’t stop from letting his gaze drop to her plush lips. And Y/n noticed it too. It had her palms sweating. Maybe it was just the alcohol.

“Would you want to come to my show tomorrow evening? I can get you some really good seats – two if you’d like to bring anyone. I’d love it if you came. Maybe after we could do this again,” he gestured around them.

She was momentarily stunned. It was so out of the blue, unexpected. But it was also only an invitation to his concert. Which… still… this was a personal invite from Harry Styles and an opening to see him afterward which was quite something.

His green eyes and the smile on his pink lips were so close to her. She felt like suddenly with the way he was eyeing her that perhaps there was more to his invite. She’d been pushing that feeling down since he asked to sit with her but now it was glaring. Obvious. It was obvious that he was seeking something else. Maybe a quick one-night thing before he left for his next destination.

“What time would I need to get there?”

“Show starts at 7 with the opener.”

“Hmm… the gallery where I'm showing my art doesn't close til 7. I’d be getting there too late-“

“Well just come after that’s over. I’d still love to see you even if you’re a little late.”

She nodded and tried to rationalize everything. Could she really do this? Perhaps it was nothing at all but this didn’t feel like nothing and her instincts were usually spot on. She had no reason to say no except that he was super famous and what would it all look like logistically? But looking back at his face she just saw a handsome, confident man. There didn’t need to be any strings attached or consequences. It could be fun, “Sure. That could work. But it would just be me. Anyone I’d want to bring wouldn’t be able to make it in time for tomorrow night.”

Harry’s grin widened and his famous dimples dug into his cheeks, “Even better.”

. . .

Y/n had a hard time sleeping that night. She was hoping to have a couple of drinks to wind down after the adrenaline of the gallery showing. Her evening had been excellent. She sold some of her most expensive pieces, had a fabulous dinner with the curator and a couple of other artists, and then met and had drinks with Harry Styles.

The following day at the gallery she was on fire as well. Her good mood was contagious and every one of her paintings sold. She was asked to dinner again after the gallery closed but this time she declined, citing a concert to get to as her reason for skipping out.

She received a text halfway through her day as promised with a link to the details of her ticket retrieval at the will-call window. Lifting her phone up to the person manning the booth she showed them the QR code and watched on as they called someone and got off the phone, “Just wait here for a moment. Someone’s coming to get you.”

Being ushered into the back of the venue and then through a hallway she followed behind the man until he finally led her to an area with balcony seating and a good view of the stage, “Mr. Styles has said anything you’d like is on him. Can I get you a drink?”

Y/n still felt like it was so surreal to be here at a Harry Styles show on personal invitation and now being offered something to drink. On. Him.

“Is chardonnay on the menu?”

The man nodded and left in the blink of an eye.

Harry wasn’t on the stage yet. The opener was just finishing up and the crowd was full of young girls dressed in brightly colored, outfits. Lots of feathers and fringe and glitter and rhinestones.

The man returned with a glass of chardonnay as Y/n looked out over the crowd and leaned over the balcony. She wasn’t sure what to expect when she arrived but her spot had a good view and she was happy she wasn’t down amongst all the pretty young things in front of the stage below.

The moment Harry came on the energy in the room was thick and everything was all about Harry. Fans with signs, lots of screaming, and most everyone sang along.

She couldn’t help but to dance and sing a little. The excitement and his enthusiasm spilled over everyone. Including her. Y/n noticed that it looked like Harry was watching her from the stage. He’d look up toward where she was with a grin often enough that it made her wonder. She thought perhaps he was smiling and looking toward someone else but it was definitely her because she watched as he mimicked her awful attempt at dancing by twirling around and shaking his hips exaggeratedly. She felt her face grow warm when some of the fans began to look up toward the balcony where she stood. Luckily there were other people where she was (who she later found out all had tickets from members of the band – a sort of VIP section for friends and family) so it wasn’t immediately obvious it was her he was grinning at.

The entire concert felt like a whirlwind. Harry’s charisma and style of entertainment were so contagious and exciting. Y/n felt like she was on adrenaline as she was being led backstage. The area was bustling as well. Lots of fans, mostly young girls, a table with small bites and beverages, and sitting areas.

She saw a couple of the band members taking photos with a group of people and then she heard shrieks and turned toward the commotion. There he was flocked by a group of fans and taking photos with one or two at a time. His smile was dazzling, genuine. She noted that he’d changed out of his stage outfit into a pair of basketball shorts and a sweater. He looked so casual in his outfit, yet there was no mistaking that this man commanded the room. That he was the star everyone wanted a piece of.

Y/n decided to keep herself occupied and look around while she waited for Harry to free up a bit. She wasn’t quite sure he’d really be seeing her afterward like he mentioned the night before. And the text she received earlier with the ticket details came from an automated six-digit number separated by a dash in between. Which made sense because he probably didn’t want her to have his number.

But she’d stick around to at least say hi.

“You came. Thank you,” Y/n turned to see the man behind her, with his handsome grin looking right at her.

“Oh, well, of course! Figured why not? It was a great concert by the way!”

They chatted for only a few minutes before they were interrupted again. Harry gave Y/n a look of apology, “Meet me at the hotel bar in like an hour?”

“Okay. I will try to be there in an hour,” she was going to just say absolutely yes, 100% she’d be there but that all sounded a little too desperate for her taste. She preferred to keep things level. And who knew if he’d even show up?

In her room, Y/n went back and forth between changing into something more comfortable or just keeping her current outfit on. She decided to keep on what she had and instead freshened up her hair and dotted on the smallest bit of undereye concealer.

It had been a while since she’d been interested in anyone. And she didn’t know what Harry wanted but the night before she was picking up certain vibes. She could be wrong. Perhaps she’d misread the whole situation. But she thought it could be fun to get out a little. Try and move on from the trauma of her last relationship. She tried not to think of it when she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Moving on had been something she’d been attempting to do for a while. A fun night with a handsome pop star could help a little. If that’s where things led. Hopefully.

At the bar, she ordered soda water to start. She didn’t want to get sloppy, just in case it turned into something more than just a friendly chat. It was around the time Harry said he’d meet her. She’d give him a little leeway since he had just gotten finished putting on a concert for thousands of adoring fans.

But when another thirty minutes had passed she checked her phone to find that there was nothing from him and no sign of his cute dimples in the bar anywhere either.

She waved at the bartender, “I’ll have a glass of house chardonnay please.”

She figured she might as well have one more glass of wine for the evening before calling it a night.

Looking at Instagram while she waited for her drink she realized she had a dm. It was from Dante. An artist she hit it off with at her last showing. They’d been messaging back and forth a bit but nothing had come of it. He lived a few hours away from her so getting together again hadn’t really been brought up. Except now.

Hey, I’ll be heading your way for an art exhibit soon. Would love to catch up in person if you’re free. Would you be interested in seeing me again? I’ll let you know when I’ll be in town when I find out more.

Smiling she began to type her response when the bartender placed her glass of wine down along with an envelope with her name written on the front.

She looked up at the young man in question

“Concierge handed this to me right after you ordered.”

“But how did you know this was for me?” She lifted the envelope up and flipped it over to open it up.

“Because I have your credit card with your name on it when you started your tab. Plus they described you. It’s from a very special guest I’m told.”

A very special guest.

She pulled her lips into her mouth to hide the grin that was about to take over as she looked around the bar, still, with no sign of Harry.

Pulling out the contents of the envelope she took a sip of her wine.

Sorry, I ran late. Take a drink in my room with me? p1900 - H

Blinking her eyes she felt her pulse pick up as she folded the note and tucked it into her purse. She gulped down another bit of chardonnay and grinned to herself, already having completely forgotten about Dante.

So she had read this right. The nerves in her belly bubbled up as she waved at the bartender, Check please!”

After making a pitstop at her room to really “freshen” up she realized that the floors stopped off at 8. After that was P.

Penthouse.

Hitting the P, she leaned her back into the wall as the elevator took her to the top floor.

The moment she stepped out of the elevator she was greeted by a man, “Can I help you, ma’am?”

“Oh!” She suddenly remembered who she was dealing with. Harry Styles, a world-famous, A-list pop star. Of course, he’d have security. “Yes, I uh… Harry invited me up-“ She reached into her purse and pulled out the note, “Here.”

The man unfolded the note and then looked at her with a smile, “Y/n?”

So he’d told them her name…

She nodded as he handed the note back to her, “Follow me.”

She figured this was something Harry had done before; had people brought to his room. The occasional one-night stand. Some fun for the weekend.

The man knocked at the door and only a handful of seconds passed before Harry was standing in the doorway, wearing the same after-concert outfit he’d been wearing when she left the venue earlier.

He smiled at her, “Come in,” and then looked at the man, “Thanks, Shamus.”

The suite was huge. That was no surprise. She’d seen a few nice suites in her days. Being an artist wasn’t always so lucrative but she was always invited to the good after parties. She had a lot of artsy fartsy friends, some very well-off.

“I’m really sorry about being so late. I just got caught up and then before I realized the time it was too late. I’m glad you were still at the bar.”

“Yeah,” she said as she walked around toward the sitting area with the large woven rug and plush couches, “about that… what if I wasn’t in the bar? I was about to go back to my room.”

“Well, then I guess we would have missed one another. That would have been a shame.”

“But you have my number. You could have reached out.”

Harry scratched the back of his neck as she sat down. She was acting far more confident than she really was. But this was part of what she did. She was constantly put into situations where she needed to be confident and sell herself. Her art was an extension of herself. So when she needed to make some sales at shows and galleries she learned just how to do that. Her art sold itself for the most part. But there were enough people who wanted her story. Sometimes, she was what sold her piece. She’d do whatever it took to not be a starving artist anymore.

“I know I could have. But… I hope you don’t take offense. I have a rule not to give out my number so easily. Not that I think you’d use it to do anything but I’ve just had some really bad experiences. People I’ve trusted have betrayed me and changing my number is something I have nightmares about,” he laughed as sat down next to her on the couch.

She laughed with him. She actually could sort of understand it. Being a woman was like that in a way. Giving out her number to someone could be risky. It was a gamble to have her information out there with someone she didn’t know well.

“I’m not offended. But I really thought you’d changed your mind. Though, in all honesty,” she stretched her arms overhead with a yawn and leaned back into the very shockingly comfortable couch, “I was sort of looking forward to my bed. I’m exhausted.”

Harry leaned back and draped his leg over his knee, “I know what you mean. If I were you I’d much prefer a comfy bed than to spend any time with me either,” he laughed and then put his arm along the back of the couch, “but really… if you’re tired, don’t feel pressure to stay. I am glad you’re here, though.”

There it was. He gave her the choice. So he could have the green light. The thumbs up. He was clever. Telling her she didn’t have to stay but also letting her know he wanted her there. The ball was in her court.

“I’m curious as to why you think I’m interesting enough to invite back to your room for a drink, of which I’ve not yet been offered,” she teased with a chuckle. She didn’t want to seem like some pushover but at the same time, she felt a little flirty. She’d had such a good night at the gallery and she hadn’t been alone with a man nearly as attractive as Harry in… well, she’d never been alone with a man as attractive as Harry. And he was very much giving off the air of flirty himself. The way he kept putting his finger up to his lip, the eye contact, his arm reaching across the couch behind her… His body language was a dead giveaway.

“You don’t think you’re interesting?”

Y/n smiled. He was good. Of course that was a good line to use on someone he didn’t know. She was wondering something very specific that he’d yet to admit. That she was there for some fun. A quick romp. He had a need that he wanted filled and so did she. The reason he’d asked her to his room was for that. Yet he insisted on playing coy.

“I know I’m interesting. But you don’t know me. So why is it that you’ve asked me here?” She raised her brows at him as he stood and walked to the buffet across the room.

“I felt comfortable with you from the start. It’s nice to have a conversation with someone new once in a while. Not someone in the industry,” Harry turned back with a bottle of wine in one hand and two glasses in his other, “and sorry I didn’t offer you a drink. Wine?”

Nodding her head she watched as Harry sat back down next to her, a little closer this time as he uncorked the bottle and poured two glasses.

Clinking their glasses together Harry sat back into the couch again. The silence had been a little awkward as he poured their drinks and Y/n was feeling a bit unsettled. She wasn’t sure what to say. As confident as she normally could be, this was getting very real and her mind wouldn’t stop wandering to what would be happening in thirty minutes or an hour from then. Would he be really going all in with her? Trying to get laid? She wouldn’t mind it, not at all. She’d happily let Harry Styles fuck her if he wanted. But would he be thinking about how her thighs and her tummy were plump and soft (mushy really was the better descriptor)?

She’d looked up his past exes because what else would one do before meeting up one on one with Harry Styles? She knew it was a bad idea but once she got a peep of some of the women he’d been with in the past… well, she certainly didn’t fit that mold. She didn’t think she was ugly. Not at all. But she wasn’t a model. She wasn’t a hot body, lush-haired, perfectly put-together wealthy woman of the world.

She was an artist. She made a good living nowadays, but nothing crazy. She lived in the Midwest USA and would go six months without getting her haircut, much less even visiting for a style. She dressed cute, she thought, but not high fashion. Not with leather, and silk, and cashmere and braided linen… Her makeup style was a crapshoot. She wore a nice, tinted moisturizer (with sunscreen because she couldn’t be bothered with the extra step), cream blush, mascara, and if she was going out, red lipstick. That was her bold makeup move. Red lips. Contouring was a foreign concept to her.

“The wine is good. Thanks,” she said lifting her glass up before taking another sip.

“Oh yeah. I enjoy a little wine once in a while. Not really much of a connoisseur but this is one of my favorite red blends.”

Y/n nodded and looked down at her glass. He was obviously feeling the nerves as well. She felt him shift next to her as he put his arm back behind her on the couch again.

She thought about just putting the moves on. Getting it over with. But then he started to talk.

“Tomorrow afternoon I fly out to Brazil. Haven’t been there in a while. Feels like with the pandemic everything just stopped. Glad to have things sort of going back to normal. Ya know? But… What about you? Do you live near Chicago? You mentioned you live in the suburbs.”

They chatted a bit, revealing small things about themselves little by little. Eventually, she even wound up telling him her age and that she’d been in a long-term relationship that ended tragically but she didn’t give him all the details. She didn’t want his pity. But it felt natural to tell him a little bit more after he opened up to her about his last girlfriend and how it was his longest relationship but that he had felt stuck in it halfway through. That she had kids and how difficult that made everything.

Y/n knew who he was talking about as well. He didn’t need to say her name because she’d googled it all beforehand.

And she was aware that she wasn’t as old as his last girlfriend. She was only about a year older than Harry was but he was so sincere and mature that he felt older. Yet, there was a playful edge to him that was refreshing. And he was an excellent listener. Just as he had been the night before.

That was another reason she felt comfortable revealing small things about herself to him. He acted like what she was saying was worth being heard. He didn’t look at the clock on the wall, or let his eyes glaze over in boredom as she spoke. He asked her questions about what she’d said, remembered her sister’s name when she mentioned that she had two nieces, and even asked her about how her art show went – remembering the name of the gallery.

“And how did it go tonight at the Carrie Secrist Gallery? Did you get all your pieces sold?”

She laughed at his question – the way he said the name of the gallery. She thought he was probably showing off a little. He was naturally very charismatic and charming and she was falling for it hard. He’d bump his knee into hers every so often and his eyes never left her face which had her skin growing warm. He was flirting in the most subtle way.

“It went well! Actually, I sold all of my pieces. I did give a discount for one of them to be displayed at a restaurant because I figure that’s like advertisement, right? But yeah. It was a really good night.”

Harry cocked his head to the side and she noted how he watched as she sipped her wine and licked her lips. He wasn’t being coy anymore. His obvious gaze was his way of moving it along.

She stared back at him and felt her skin start to prickle with nerves. It was bold to look him directly in his sharp green eyes when he was sat so close to her. She watched as his lips turned up in a small smirk and he leaned in closer, “What perfume are wearing?”

She had to pause to think. It was her travel perfume. She liked nice scents and had a few back home but when she traveled she didn’t bring her usuals with her because they were too costly to risk being broken. And normally when she was traveling it was because she was participating in an exhibit or show and that meant she would wear very little of anything scented. Mostly out of respect. Like being on an airplane and wearing a beautiful spicy perfume that you’d put on before a date. You just wouldn’t.

“I think it’s like… um… I honestly don’t know the name. It’s a sample of something that I bring when I travel. Like a powdery, clean scent. Something nonoffensive. Would hate to lose out on a sale because I was wearing some wild cotton candy, musky, floral perfume or something,” she laughed.

Harry nodded with a small smile as he watched her mouth move around her words. She couldn’t help but notice how he looked from her lips and slowly brought his gaze back up to her eyes.

“What about you? You smell nice.” It was true. He did smell good. Clean and a little bit masculine. It was definitely some kind of cologne.

He looked down over his t-shirt and scrunched his brows in thought, “You think? Felt like I might be smelling a bit off.”

Y/n shook her head with a grin, “No. You smell nice. Clean.”

“Well, I did shower after the show. I get so hot and sweaty on stage. Sometimes the outfits don’t breathe at all. Just like, my hot skin trapped under saran wrap is what it feels like,” he laughed as he spoke but the visual had Y/n’s mind going into dark and dirty places. Perhaps he’d said it on purpose.

She stayed quiet as she sipped the last bit of her wine and then leaned forward to place the glass on the table in front of them.

“Would you like another bottle of wine? Or… something else?”

Clenching her jaw she looked at his empty glass next to hers.

Or something else…

“Well, I don’t know about having more wine…”

“Okay. Me neither to be honest. Also not quite ready to go to bed just yet. Do you want to like…” he pulled his lips into his mouth and raised his brows as he bumped her knee with his.

He didn’t need to say it. She knew what he meant. She kept her eyes on his with a grin on her face as he leaned in so close she could smell the wine on his breath, “Is it okay if I kiss you?”

She was compelled to pull him toward her and put her lips to his instead of answering him verbally. She’d been watching his pink lips wrap around his words in the unique way he moved his mouth for long enough. They looked smooth and she was curious how they’d feel against hers. But the moment she felt his tongue slip out and wet the bottom of her lip she felt her mind go blank except for the thought that she was kissing Harry Styles. Sitting in his hotel room way past her bedtime with security outside of his door and an empty bottle of wine on the coffee table at her feet.

His hand moved to the back of her neck and pulled her in closer, to which she happily allowed herself to be moved toward his body. Her own fingers flitted into his thick hair, the curls winding between her fingers, just as soft as it appeared.

To her surprise (and delight) he didn’t try rushing from kissing to trying to take her clothes off. In fact, he continued kissing her and pressing his tongue into hers and lapping over her lips, squeezing the back of her neck with one hand and her soft hip with the other for longer than she might have ever kissed anyone before. His mouth against hers was erotic and wet and a bit eager even. As if he hadn’t kissed anyone in a long time. But she matched that energy because she actually hadn’t kissed anyone in a long time.

He pinched her thigh a bit harder as she moved closer, her blouse-covered breasts brushing against his taut shirt-covered chest. She knew he was in good shape because she’d seen the pictures of him wearing open vests and jackets baring his well-built upper body while prancing on stage. Tonight’s outfit showcased how beefy he was with a well-fitted t-shirt and leather pants. A reminder of where she lacked.

As his hand slid upward to the curve of her waist she pulled away a little, really not feeling like he’d enjoy her extra bits once he touched them, “I… sorry…” she shook her head and sighed, feeling embarrassed.

Harry’s lips reached for hers again, brushing them softly over hers, “Sorry for what?”

But his mouth on hers was intoxicating and the way he was still grabbing at her and pulling her in made her forget what it was she was worried about.

The truth was that Harry loved what he saw and the way she felt so soft and plush under his hand. Her mouth, her hip, her waist. And she smelled pretty and her eyes were making him lose his mind. He wanted her in his bed and on his cock (if she’d allow that). Her voice was soft and feminine and she was smart and funny.

Harry had no trouble finding someone for the night. He’d been very lucky since his One Direction days but fame was like that. It also didn’t hurt that he was handsome with a deep voice and a big cock. But recently he decided to start being a little more choosy. Perhaps to find someone he could spend more than a night with. It was hard to do, though. Because he was on the road a lot and most people couldn’t keep up with his lifestyle unless they could go on the road with him. Which was usually an impossibility.

And after Y/n had left the venue a young woman was flirting heavily with him; batting her lashes and touching his arm, and giving off all the signals that she was a sure thing. Normally he’d have just stuck with that and had a good time with her for the evening. That was the easy route. A pretty girl very willing and eager whom he could send away after without feeling too bad. Did that make him a bad person? He didn’t think so. It was just sex most of the time. He was always safe and respectful and the kind of sexual tension that would build up while he was singing and dancing (and honestly that was when he was feeling his most attractive and confident) was normal after every show. It wasn’t like he had sex with someone new after each concert. But the option was always there.

But tonight he really wanted to see Y/n again. The cute girl was the easier option, but Y/n was the kind of woman he wanted to keep with him until morning. Let her sleep in his suite and have a couple of rounds with her. There was no way to know if it could ever be more but she was something different. His therapist, Pat, had told him to stop going with what was easiest. To take a step back and look for more substance. She told him he was clearly looking for something deeper and while there was nothing wrong with a bit of fun, deep down he needed more. And he knew she was right.

Harry’s hand roamed upward to the underside of her boob and even with the blouse and the bra covering her flesh he could feel how soft and heavy her breast was. He wanted to tear her shirt off and take a look but he’d let her lead the way because she seemed like she knew what she wanted when she slid her palm over his thigh and close to his crotch. Harry was solid and already thickened under his shorts, which was quite obvious from the way the fabric tented outward. He pulled her in closer again, hoping she’d grasp him over his shorts.

But instead, when Harry pulled at her she lost her balance and so the hand she was slowly moving upward as she worked up the courage to palm over his obvious erection suddenly was planted firmly over his cock, her hand trying to steady herself so as not to crush him under her palm and so she didn’t fall forward into him like she was about to.

They both parted from the kiss, Harry laughing and Y/n apologizing and quickly removing her hand, “Oh my gosh! Are you okay?”

Harry was more than okay when he looked into her pretty eyes and saw how flustered she was, how swollen her lips were from kissing, and the way her eyes were blown out.

He put his hand over hers and pulled it back to cup over his hard dick, “As you can tell, I’m just fine,” he grinned and looked down at the state of himself and her eyes followed him. She knew he was hard, she felt it when she fell into him. Which was quite exciting now that she was having her hand guided over him, he squeezed around her fingers so she had to tighten her grip around him. She panted and looked up at him. He was girthy and the way his dick was stuffed under his shorts, bent a little bit as it was constricted by the elastic. She could tell he was hung. Very much so.

“Do you want me to… can I?” She asked, licking her lips and looking back down at his big bulge and Harry leaned back, putting his arms back along the couch.

“If you want. But if you do that then be warned that I am gonna want to return the favor.”

A laugh was forced out of Y/n’s nose as she looked back into his eyes curiously, “Be warned? As if that would be a bad thing?”

Harry shrugged, “You never know.”

Y/n bit her bottom lip and slowly tugged at the elastic of the shorts he had on to reveal he was sans underwear. The shock of seeing his thick deep pink tip so quickly had her gasping unexpectedly and pausing her motion. She could tell he was big just by the way he felt, but seeing it bare before her eyes…

Looking back up at him he nodded at her to continue so she pulled at the material, pushing it down and then finally getting a full at him, long and pretty, hard as a rock. He was fully engorged and heavy in her hand when she slid her palm over him. Yes, this would do.

Getting to her knees on the floor in between his legs she kept her hand on him, not wanting to let go. It was unbelievable that she was holding Harry Styles’ thick cock in her hand and he was hard for her. She clenched her thighs just imagining what it might feel like wrecking her insides because it would.

She licked her lips and leaned over him slowly, leisurely pumping him upward. Spitting over his tip she looked up at him and pressed her mouth to his slit with a tiny peck and used her hand to coat his cock with the saliva. She spat again to give her hand more glide and on her upward stroke, her palm squeezed around his frenulum. Harry moaned and leaned his head back. His pink lips parted.

Positioning herself more comfortably she lowered her mouth again to the underside of him, licking upward until her tongue glided over his tip and she popped his bulbous crown into her mouth and sucked. He reached down to put a hand into her hair and grunted as she got lower over him.

He tasted good. Of course, he hadn’t come yet but he was clean and smelled nice. She was never a fan of the taste of come but she was certain with Harry, she’d gulp him all down with a smile on her face despite whatever he might taste like.

Harry loved getting head. He didn’t always ask for it, and he didn’t technically ask for it this time either but she wanted it and he wanted to feel her warm mouth and plump lips wrapped around him since the night before when he first met her.

He was not disappointed either. She was taking him in well. He knew he wasn’t easy to take all the way, which was part of the reason he didn’t always ask for a blowie. But Y/n was good. He tried not to tighten his fingers in her hair, wanting her to go at her own pace but he did grasp the back of the couch with his free hand and found himself letting out a pathetic whimper when she swallowed around his tip.

She was enjoying this. She was pretty good at giving head, though it had been some time, she was a bit rusty but it was like riding a bike really. After a few swallows and deep strokes, his tip hitting the back of her mouth and making her gag lightly, she began to get the hang out of it again. And he was clearly enjoying it.

She was making a bit of a mess too. Drooling and coughing… the fabric of his shorts that was pressed under his balls was wet. Which reminded her…

Using her free hand she began to roll his scrotum in her palm gently. His balls were round and full and heavy and when he gasped she could tell that was a good sign.

“Oh my god… ffffuck, Y/n!” Harry couldn’t help it when he tightened his fingers in her hair. He was going to come already. A little bit embarrassing but she was good and the noises she was making and the way she was sucking him in, wet and warm… plus… he was getting a very good view of her with her mouth wrapped around him. Drool dripping down her chin and she’d look up at him every so often and that was doing him in. The fact that she was pushing him down her throat so deeply and then looking up at him as she gurgled around him was making him lose it.

Now, Harry was a bit dominant in the bedroom. Well, a lot actually. He didn’t always show it, especially not with one-night stands or with someone he’d just met. He liked to ease them into it unless they were clearly into it. And there was something that told him she liked it a bit rough. So when he pushed her down a little further and her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she moaned around him he coughed out a gasp and clenched his teeth to hold himself back. He wanted to have her on his cock like this for a while longer but she was conducting his perfect ideal for a blow job.

“Open that throat up for me, baby… gonna choke you with my come…” he panted his words and watched her closely as she hastened bobbing up and down over him. He took a risk to say what he wanted and she liked it. He had a feeling she would.

Y/n moaned at his words and the way he handled her hair and pushed her down over him. His sudden dominant display was welcomed and felt her arousal drip past her thong onto the insides of her thighs when he told her to open her throat for him. It was the hottest thing she’d heard in a long time.

And she did choke on his come. Salty and bitter, with an edge of sweetness. She swallowed and around him coughed as he flooded her throat. Tears poured from her eyes as she gulped him down the best she could and listening to his moans and grunts was satisfying to her.

Eventually, he released her hair and let his body melt into the couch as she licked him clean until his cock was softening in her mouth. He watched her when she sat back and wiped the back of her hand over her mouth with a small smile. The tears on her cheeks were mixed with streaks of black from her mascara and her mouth was puffy and wet.

“Come here,” Harry grasped the front of her neck and leaned in as he pulled her close so he could kiss her hard. She put her hands over his thighs to steady herself as he pulled her up and then moved her onto the couch under him. He pushed her down and lowered himself to her neck and licked upward toward her jawline, “Let me see you. Want to see your tits and your pussy. Can I, Y/n?”

She nodded as he pulled at her top. She sat up a little so he could pull the material off and she was quick to undo her clasp at the back. She was wearing a bra that was slightly complicated because her breasts were large and heavy so it was quite the device. She doubted he’d be able to figure it out fast enough.

“Holy fuck…” Harry groaned as he put his large hands over her tits and caressed the soft skin before lowering himself to attach his mouth to her left nipple and then her right one.

She hissed when he pulled at her nipple, sucking it into his mouth and squeezing gently at the other side. She hadn’t had anyone play with her tits in a long time. She’d really been missing intimacy. He sat back a little and pressed her boobs together before dipping back down to use his tongue all along her smooth flesh, tucking the wet muscle in between her breasts and licking upward toward her neck.

He continued kneading her tits as he settled himself onto his shins and sat back and looked at her face, “So fucking pretty.”

She arched her back, causing her hips to roll upward and Harry looked down to her hips, moving his hands down to the waistband of her skirt. He massaged her soft hips and watched as the material of her skirt lifted the slightest at the way he was squeezing her. He clenched his jaw and looked back into her eyes and raised his brows as if to ask her permission to keep lifting her skirt upward. She’d already nodded in response when he asked her moments ago but he wanted to know if she’d changed her mind or not.

Y/n brought her hands down and lifted the hem of her skirt up to just the part where her thighs were wholly exposed but her panties weren’t in view yet. Keeping her eyes on his she pushed at his hands to lower them so he could finish the job if he wanted. It was her way of giving him permission to pull her skirt up so he could see her.

And it wasn’t that Y/n was super confident in her body. In fact, if there was anything she was insecure about it was her weight and her body. She did well to push down the anxiety she felt about that and didn’t like to make it known she felt self-conscious, but she was. And here was Harry Styles between her legs and looking at her half-naked body, finally getting a view of her panties as he lifted her skirt. She knew she was wet between her legs already and watching the expression on his face she held her breath hoping he wasn’t grossed out by what he saw.

She watched him lick his lips as his brows set in a serious expression. He shot his gaze up to her eyes and then back down to her wet panties. She breathed a gasp when she felt his finger slip along the topmost part of her thigh just under the crotch of her panties, “You’re wet.”

She gulped hard. She knew there was nothing she could do to hide how wet she’d gotten from sucking him off. But when he thumbed at her thigh and collected her arousal before sticking his whole digit into his mouth and licking it clean, she dropped her mouth open in surprise.

“Mmm… do you know one of my favorite things to do is to put my face in between a woman’s thighs and make her come on my tongue?” He licked his lips again and pressed his thumbs to the elastic of her panties, pushing just under the fabric over her hips as he looked at her.

“I… no. I didn’t know,” was all she could respond with. She was anticipating what was to come and she couldn’t believe it so her brain wasn’t quite connecting with everything else at that moment.

Harry kept his eyes on hers as he began to lower her panties. He wanted access. Wanted to get his mouth on her and have her shaking and coming, getting his face all wet, dripping down to the couch below…

When Harry pulled the fabric down to her upper thighs he shifted to pull the material down and off her legs. He needed to have her spread apart for him so the panties needed to go.

When he finally allowed himself to look at the soft skin and the bit of hair she had all around her warm and wet pussy he closed his eyes and moaned when he gripped onto her hips, letting his fingers sink into her skin.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good. Okay? You want that, Y/n?” He yanked his shirt off over his head, revealing his well-defined chest and scattered tattoos. He must have planned on making a mess.

She nodded and looked down over her body and back into his eyes as he lowered himself over her. He went in tongue first and closed his eyes as he made the first lick upward through her slit and coated his tongue in her.

She moaned softly but then he quickly reached a hand down to the leg that was nearest the edge of the cushion and gripped onto the underpart of her thigh, making her spread out for him as he nudged into her further, lapping and sucking at her.

“OH!” She panted as his lips lowered to her entrance and his wide nose swept over her clit as he shook his head and pulled at her so he could push in further.

She grabbed onto the back of the couch with one arm and her other hand pushed into his soft hair. She rolled her hips upward and moaned at the way he felt on her, but he kept pushing her back down which was driving her nuts, in the best way. He was going in like a starved man and forcing her hips down to keep her still.

Harry wasn’t shy to eat pussy or do it his way. He found that women generally enjoyed the way he did it. His objective was always for it to feel good and for whoever was on the receiving end to come. And he really wanted to make Y/n come because of how good she’d just sucked him off. Swallowed his cock halfway down her throat and choked on his come. He wanted to give her something in return because he wanted to show her how good he could be. Hoped that he was better than anyone before him (because he liked being the best at everything he did).

“Oh, shit, shit, shit, shit!!! God! Harry, f-ffffuck!” When Harry shifted and stuffed two fingers inside and began to pump them in and out as he kept his mouth over her clit she knew she was gonna be a goner. Because this was her own go-to move when she masturbated.

She had a slim dildo she used that was curved and hit her insides nicely and loved combining that with her clit sucker[TK7] . It always got her off and Harry’s mouth and fingers were hitting all the spots she needed.

Going into this with him she figured it could be fun. Might get some pleasure, perhaps something to think back on fondly. She hoped for more than just that (if he could give her an orgasm that would have been preferred) but was prepared for just some fun but doubted an orgasm or anything like what was happening. The man was just as charming with his face between her thighs as he was talking and singing into a microphone. The humor and his charisma didn’t stop on stage. Harry was good. And sexy.

She stiffened as her muscles began to vibrate. Harry seemed to know that she was coming as he pumped his fingers into her harder and faster and continued slurping at her clit.

Only when she began to come down did she realize how loud she’d been. Her moans and cries were sure to have been heard by anyone standing near the door. Her slight embarrassment was quelled when she felt Harry’s lips still sliding over her pussy as he moaned. She was a mess and from what she could see of his face, that was too.

Pressing at his forehead as she giggled her words, “Harry! Okay… okay!” She wiggled away from him.

Harry sat up and looked down at her with a small smirk on his damp face. His eyes were hooded and he looked like he was ready for more, which she was not expecting. Figured he’d gotten what he needed and would have her on her way.

But instead, as he stood up she noticed that the strain at the front of his shorts was back with a vengeance. After pulling his shorts off, he pulled at her hand, helping her stand, and wrapped his fingers around hers as he led her to the bed.

She watched him walk in front of her, tall and well-built. A tush she could bite into. Would love to sketch and paint him in bronze, pink, olive, and brown. His thick dark hair, the lean neck holding up his big, yet handsome, head. Broad shoulders and a smooth back, strong, meaty thighs atop his sinewy lower legs. She could do his frame justice on a canvas. Add in a bit of gold and red, and plenty of dark, fine strokes to delineate his muscles. She’d use her script brush for the scattered hairs…

His mouth met hers and erased her thoughts and her gawking at his naked physique. The first thing that was apparent was the way he tasted. Like her pussy. She was not quite expecting it. She’d been out of the game like this for a bit and so kissing someone was already a fairly exciting prospect. But to have it be Harry Styles and then to have him taste like he’d just eaten her out? Now that was never something she’d had on her radar for sexual conquests. This felt like a bucket list item that would always just stay there, on the list. Except it was so far out of her realm of possibility that it never would have made it to such a list. But as it were, here she was, being pulled to his bed, his cock hard and long next to her, his mouth damp with her arousal, and then what?

“Take your skirt off for me, love.”

He didn’t ask her. He told her.

She knew that once her skirt was pulled off she’d be completely naked. In front of Harry Styles. With that body. But she complied. Bringing her skirt down over her hips and thighs until it fell into the floor in a small pile. She looked down over herself but tried not to think about the way she looked naked to him. He didn’t seem to mind her extra bits. In fact, he seemed to be rather enjoying her as she was. But she couldn’t help the way she felt so exposed.

He bent down to kiss her again, his fingers running into her hair with one hand and his other hand moving down her back and to her bottom, squishing her flesh and rutting his hips into hers.

Harry parted with a gasp and held her out so he could look at her, “You’re so fucking hot, Y/n. Climb on the bed for me.”

Her whole body was vibrating. The way he was looking at her had her nervous and vulnerable. She sat her bottom on the bed and watched him as she scooted into the middle of the mattress. Harry stood at the foot of the bed and watched her. He wasn’t shy about where he let his eyes roam. Right between her sticky thighs, over her belly up to her big tits.

“Lay back and spread your legs.”

She wasn’t used to being told what to do during sex. Her husband was the last man she slept with (years ago) and he wasn’t commanding in bed at all. This was all a first for her but it made her feel something she hadn’t really felt before. Being bossed around this way was exciting.

So she did as he said, putting her back on the comforter and hesitantly spreading her legs apart, bending at the knees and putting her feet flat onto the blanket.

She felt the bed shift as Harry climbed up next to her and he put his hands on her shins and looked at her shiny pussy.

His small moan vibrated through his chest as he looked the pretty girl in her eyes, “Can I fuck you? Is that all right?”

Y/n nodded quickly and shot her eyes down to Harry’s cock. She couldn’t believe he was so hard again. But she felt like that was probably somewhat of a compliment, “I don’t have any condoms, um-“

Harry crawled over her, his thighs spreading between hers, causing her legs to part further, “I have some. Are you on birth control?” He grazed his mouth over hers and as he pressed his lips to hers she felt his cock against her pelvis.

Panting her words and rolling her hips upward, “Yes I am.”

Harry’s lips slotted between Y/n’s as he settled his hips against hers, slowly putting himself through her labia to feel her first. Without having to put on a condom. He knew it was necessary but to be able to feel her warm against his skin, wetting it, the hair scratching it…

Y/n gasped when his cockhead nudged at her entrance before he slid up through her crease and it bumped into her clit. It was salacious. Almost as if he were testing the waters to not put on a condom. Her body and her mind were beginning to synch up into lust and want again. He’d just given her an orgasm but she was on her way to that point of no return once again.

And Harry never went without a condom with a one-night stand or a quick weekend fling. Of course, once the relationship was established there was no need but never before had he wanted so badly to enter a woman without really knowing if he could trust her or not. She said she was on birth control but how could he know?

Reluctantly he got off the bed to grab a condom from his suitcase and paused next to the bed to roll it down from his tip to his base.

Y/n watched. He was thick and long. The hair at his base was dark and masculine. He crawled back in between her legs and kissed the insides of her thighs and lapped upward quickly over her pussy one last time for good measure before positioning himself over her with his shaft in his hand, aiming himself at her cunt.

The room was lit with only one lamp and the bed was soft underneath her body. She couldn’t quite believe that she was in that moment, with Harry Styles above her. She hadn’t had sex with anyone since her husband. But here she was, with a man’s cock pressed at her entrance, waiting for her to finally give permission so he could push into her. So he could fuck her. So Harry Styles could fuck her.

Rolling her hips upward slightly and grasping onto his lats, “Please.”

Harry panted out a breath as he fit his cock into her, the initial entry needing a bit of force to squeeze his thick head past the threshold of her tight muscle. She gasped at the widening of her opening. It felt good to have a man poking into her rather than her silicon dildo for once.

She held onto his back for dear life as he doused himself in her. She was soft and thick and tight. It was incredible and warm. His strokes were long, slowly sinking in deeper and deeper with each rock inward.

“How’s that feel?” Harry’s cock was feeling very good, he hoped the noises she was making were a good sign. He thought it was but wanted her to be more vocal.

“Oh my god, Harry… fuck that feels good.” She purred.

Harry put his hands over her tits and continued fucking into her, his thighs giving him leverage for each plunge.

“Yeah? You like that? Tell me what you like, baby. What do you need?”

Her mind went blank as his long dick slicked in and out of her, spreading her, touching her deeply… What did she like? What did she need? It had been so long and never had she needed to vocalize it before.

“You, Harry,” She hissed when he bucked his hips inward, a deep thrust that sent her body surging upward from the force of his drive.

“Me? Oh baby, you have me, can’t you feel that?” His words came out pinched in ecstasy, “But talk to me. What do you like?”

Slowly moving a hand upward to her neck he wrapped his fingers around and squeezed only the slightest as he continued rolling his hips into her. He tweaked one of her nipples with his other hand and she gasped as her lips parted.

“What about this? You like when I do this?” He dug the pads of his fingers into the side of her neck before loosening but keeping his hand over her throat.

She nodded quickly, not expecting to have enjoyed it but she did, “Yes.”

“And this?” Rolling her nipple between his fingers and giving her a good hard jerk of his hips inward she grunted and nodded again.

“Good girl. You like it a little rough then. Let’s see what else we can learn…” he spoke as he gripped her neck solidly, but still giving her space to say no if she needed. He leaned over her, his face directly above, “Open your mouth.”

She complied and parted her lips.

“Tongue out.”

She jutted her pink tongue past her lips and Harry spat down into her mouth and then cooed at her as he watched his saliva drip down her tongue and into her throat, “I can tell you like that too. Is that right? Are you my dirty girl?”

Moaning and feeling her body floating away from her brain she nodded, “I’m your dirty girl.”

Harry sucked in a sharp breath at her words. It was just what he wanted to hear.

“You are, aren’t you? My dirty girl likes getting fucked nice and hard,” he punctuated his statement with a harsh thrust, “Choked, spit on… Fuck baby I think you might just be my favorite girl. What else do you like?”

She was officially stunned and gushing from his words. And his cock too of course. But the way he was talking to her and showing her what she liked made her feel like a new woman. It was an experience she wouldn’t soon forget.

“Aww… poor thing. Having a hard time speaking, dear? Need some help?”

She gurgled a moan and nodded. Her belly was on fire with how deep his cock was. Everything around her was fuzzy.

Suddenly Harry pulled out and grasped her hips, pushing her to roll to her front, “Hands and knees.”

She whined as she pushed herself upward, spreading her legs and pushing her knees and palms into the blanket below.

“Shh, shhh… no need to cry, baby. Daddy’s here.” It was a risk. To say it. To call himself Daddy. But it was his favorite. He loved being called Daddy when he was fucking anyone who was even just a little bit submissive. And Y/n was quite submissive but he had a feeling she didn’t even know it. Based on how confident and cheeky she was when he met her and when she got to his room earlier he knew he had the potential for a brat on his hands but for her to also be a bit submissive? And this pretty? He’d hit the jackpot.

He smacked her bottom, both sides with a solid whack causing her to jump and groan, her head lolling downward as she reared back, her pussy and ass on display for him.

“And you like that too don’t you pretty girl?”

She nodded her head and moved her hips back again, most likely searching for his cock to fit itself back into her but he needed her to start talking a little more.

“I knew you would. But I need to hear your words my lovely little thing. Can you talk to me? Do you want more spankings? Or do you want something else?” He grinned as he squished the plump flesh of her thick bottom, the view something he’d sear into his memory and bring with him on tour until he could have her again. He knew he’d want to see her again after this.

“Fffuck…” she moaned softly. She didn’t know what she wanted. She just wanted whatever he was doing to continue. She was absolutely loving it. And the Daddy thing? She had never called anyone Daddy before. Not even her own dad. It would need to grow on her.

Harry grasped the base of his shaft and dragged his tip through her folds gently, up and down, pressing himself at her center and she pushed back to make him go in but he backed away, smacking her bum again and making her jolt.

“Ah, ah, ah… Tell me, baby. Tell me what you want. I need to hear it from those pretty lips.”

Y/n swallowed as her heart raced and not just from how turned on she was. From nerves. She was surprised by the reaction he was pulling out of her. But she did want a couple of things and there was something in how dominant he was being that made her feel like she needed to comply.

“Fuck me and spank me. Please.”

Harry smiled and slid his cockhead into her folds again, “Yeah? I love it when you say please. Makes me very happy. I’ll give you what you want. But I want something from you too, Y/n.”

Harry watched as his tip parted her shiny crease as he pushed upward, spreading her arousal all around.

When she stayed silent Harry brought his free palm down to her bottom, the smack sounding in the room, “Well aren’t you going to ask what I want?”

She gasped and took a breath, “Sorry. What do you want?” Her words were coming out breathy and light.

“I need you to keep telling me if you like something. And ask me if there’s something else you want. Understood?”

“Yes.” She nodded her head and bit her lip, waiting for him to slip inside again.

Harry removed his palm from her bottom and gathered her hair between his fingers and pulled her head up gently, “Can you guess what else I want? What else makes Daddy really happy?”

Shaking her head and peeping the word no Harry leaned in to speak into her ear, “I just gave you a hint little girl. Let’s see if you can use that brain of yours to figure out what I like.”

Her eyes fluttered at the feel of his breath at the back of her ear and his fingers pulling at her hair. It wasn’t registering to her what he wanted. He gave her a hint?

“Come on… I know you can figure this one out. It’s not that hard. Or are you kind of dumb when my cock is right here, nudging into you? Hmm?” He pushed in the smallest bit, allowing his tip to tuck into her for a moment before bringing it back out.

She whined and licked her lips. It was true that it was hard to think when he was handling her the way he was.

“Sorry. I’m not sure.”

Harry’s dark baritone vibrated off her ear as he spoke, “S’okay. We’ll take our time til you figure it all out. Do you want Daddy’s cock?”

She nodded quickly and Harry chuckled as he spoke, “Yeah? Well then tell me, dear, who’s cock do you want?” He nudged in again, prodding her crease and pushing just into her opening. It was taking all of his resolve not to just hammer into her at that point.

But hearing him say that, it clicked. She knew what he wanted, “Yours, Daddy.”

It felt odd coming out of her mouth. She wasn’t sure if she liked it but the moment he stuffed her again with his large cock she keened and moaned and knew that he deserved to be called Daddy if that’s what he wanted. He gave her what she wanted so she’d give him what he wanted.

“Yes… good girl. I knew you could do it, baby,” Harry spoke through gritted teeth when he sunk in to the hilt. He pulled back and then fucked into her quickly. His pace soon became harsh as he let go of her hair and pounded her from behind. Smacking her bottom with his palm every few strokes her flesh grew red slowly and her moans grew louder.

“Oh! Yess! Ffffuck!” Her body was rocked forward at each strike of his hips into hers. The sound of skin thudding wetly and smacks of his hand to her flesh were loud in the room.

Harry held onto her hips, squeezing tightly as he gave her bottom a break from the strikes.

“My dick is coated in your cream. Ffuuck little girl. Goddamn best girl I’ve had. Can you rub your sweet little pussy for me? Put your fingers where you need them. Show Daddy you’re a good girl.”

Harry’s deep voice and the sound of his fat cock penetrating her wet hole were egging her on as she brought her hand between her legs to get herself closer to the edge as she rubbed her clit.

His engorged cock twitched when he felt her fingers brush against his balls as he thumped into her over and over again.

She began to see stars as she sputtered inarticulate words. Harry was going in hard but he felt so good inside of her. The way he was holding her hips kept her grounded as his balls whacked into her on each thrust. She could feel how wet his scrotum was from her arousal soaking him.

But then her eyes popped open and her whining and choked moans halted when he released one of her hips and put his fingers over her bum. On her anus. She hadn’t expected it.

Harry slowed his movements as he spoke, “Oh did that surprise you? How am I supposed to keep my hands off your tiny hole here,” he rubbed it as he spoke, still fucking into her deeply but slowly now, “when she’s looking directly up at me all empty and needy?”

She felt liquid drip over her bottom when Harry spit down onto her puckered hole and rub his saliva around, “Can I? Just a finger. It’s going to feel so good.”

Y/n panted and nodded, “Okay.”

Never once had she done anything sexual with her bottom. She’d never played with herself there, nor considered having anyone do it for her either. Her husband had certainly never tried.

More spit was rubbed over the hole and she felt Harry’s finger slowly push in as she continued rubbing her button and Harry continued filling her cunt with his heavy cock. It felt odd. Not like being fingered in her pussy. A very different sensation but it wasn’t bad. Well, she’d say that it was actually pretty good in combination with everything else.

“Relax for me. Let me make you feel good.” His finger fucked into her ass as he slowly began to increase the tempo of his hips.

“Ahh!” She squeaked out as he dipped into her cervix and she clenched over his cock and his finger at the ache.

“S’okay. M’cock’s getting in there deep, isn’t it? Do you want me to stop?”

Shaking her head she spoke with her words coming out in punches between his thrusts, “Please! Don’t stop! Need you!”

She did need him. Needed him to keep doing what he was doing. Needed his dirty words, his big cock, and his long fingers. She was going to come if he continued.

Harry panted and groaned at what he was seeing and feeling. Not only was she making him feel so good, but watching her pussy being fucked and her ass being fingered was a dream.

He slid his finger in and out gently and he could tell that she was starting to relax a little. A good sign. He’d love to fuck her bottom one day. Get her nice and open and just wreck all of her holes.

Harry’s long, fast strokes into her pussy were devasting her insides. She knew she’d be limping the next day but that thought only excited her.

Applying just the right amount of pressure to her clit as she rubbed, feeling Harry’s finger slipping in and out of her, and with the way his cock was working into her so deep she could no longer stop her body from shaking and her lungs from gasping for air loudly.

Harry felt her walls squeeze and pulse around him as he continued rolling his hips into her steadily, fucking her through her orgasm, her moans and gasps, her fingers at her clit, and her thighs shaking… he smiled as he threw his head back to feel it. To feel her in her orgasm. Her soft insides, wet, and contracting around him.

“Fuck, baby… it’s that good is it?” Harry looked down at the scene below. Absolutely filthy. His wide cock parted her fluttering pussy as it gripped him tight. Her arousal was slathered over him.

As she began to loosen up and he could tell she was done he gently pulled out, both his cock and his finger, “Good girl. Can you lie on your back? I’m almost there. Just need a little more. Want to make you come one more time.”

Y/n gulped and adjusted herself onto her back, “I’m not sure I can come again.”

Harry climbed over her and put his palms over her tits again, “You’ll come again.”

She watched him as he allowed his gaze to look over her body. She really wished he wouldn’t look too closely like he was. She felt a bit embarrassed. Being chubby was always something she contended with for as long as she could remember. As confident as she conveyed herself in her day-to-day, the truth was that once her clothes came off she felt well below average.

Harry gently brushed his fingers along her cheekbone and slowly pushed back in, the front of his thighs pressed into the back of hers.

The feel of him re-entering her was sharp and achy. He’d already done quite a number on her. She was positive she wouldn’t have another orgasm. Impossible.

“I love how you feel. Fuck, baby.”

He angled himself so he was pushing down into her, splitting her pussy and pressing deeply.

“Ahh!” She hadn’t expected the way it would feel when he pushed her hips upward and fucked down into her. It was tight and he was long and it pinched the smallest bit but when she looked at his face she saw ecstasy. He was definitely close.

“So tight isn’t it? Taking me so good, Y/n. Wanna feel you come once more. Just squeezing the fuck out of me again so when I come I can feel you milking me, sucking my dick into your cunt, begging for my come.”

Y/n moaned at the words. It was hot. Harry’s strong body and his roughness, and the way he spoke were so hot.

He moved his hand from her cheek down to her neck and softly squeezed, “It’s so messy down there sweet girl. Just drenching me. Can you hear that?” His question was punctuated by the noises their bodies made together. His lengthy prick pushing into her and dragging back to the tip before impaling her again. Over and over. The slick sounds of his condom coated in her, spreading her open. Her body felt it all. She had been so sensitive after her orgasm and now her insides were aching in delight. The feel of him wide and thick inside and then deep as he dipped all the way in sent zips and currents through her body.

Harry enjoyed the way his body felt inside of her. It was lavish and soft and warm and she was so wet for him, so needy. Her big tits were swaying as he thrust deep and her nipples were peaked. He loved how she looked with his hand over her throat. He wanted to do so much more. Preferred it far rougher but this was their first, and perhaps only time. He didn’t generally enjoy scaring them off on night one. A few rounds on separate occasions and he’d show what he was really into. He hoped this wouldn’t be their last time. He felt like she’d enjoy what he was into. Felt like she might be too. She liked to be choked a little. She called him Daddy even which was making him lose his mind. She’d be into the idea of playing into his breeding kink too he bet.

And that thought sent him so deep into his fantasy he began to feel his orgasm swell into his balls. Just imagining her plush body and wide hips taking him like he needed. He needed to fuck a lot. He normally masturbated about twice a day when he didn’t have someone to come inside of. But when he was in a steady relationship he’d drain his cock all day long when there was time for it.

He could just see Y/n’s cunt dripping with his come and he’d make her lie flat and keep it inside of her so it would soak into her. The idea that she could get pregnant by him. Fill her with his sperm and make her body grow thicker and softer with his babies. Her tits would swell and engorge.

But that was just a fantasy. Now he was fucking so hard and so deep into the hottest woman he’d had in a long time. Her plump hips and soft pussy were begging him for more. Even though she insisted she couldn’t come again, he could already tell she was getting even slicker for him. Her body preparing for her third orgasm. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head and her mouth was wide open.

“Y’gonna come for me, little girl. Come on Daddy’s cock. You can do it. I know you can. Can feel you fluttering around me already. So needy for more aren’t you?”

The words she wanted to say were yes and don’t stop, please! But instead, she gurgled and choked her moans when his pelvis rubbed over hers, offering her clit the friction needed. A few more of his harsh strokes and the way their bodies connected, rubbing and pushing into one another had her button being worked just like she wanted.

Harry coughed out a laugh but then groaned when he felt her begin to shake, “Oh, baby. Ffuck… thought you said you couldn’t come again? Hm? Look at that…” his strokes were long and deep as he felt her body give way to another orgasm. Her spasming cunt squeezed his cock deliciously and Harry pumped himself into her so she could come properly while getting railed and having her clit stimulated all at once.

And just as she was beginning to relax Harry finally released. He choked out a moan and stilled his hips, pushing in so his cockhead was pressing deep into her, wishing he was coating her insides, filling her with her sperm. But as it was, this was not bad either. In fact, even with the stupid condom, it was really good. The best. He hissed as his cock throbbed inside of her, his long dick pumping his come out to the tip and into the condom.

She felt him twitching inside of her as his orgasm shot through his cock. He was a glorious sight to behold above her. His panted breaths and mouth dropped open as ecstasy took over his features. Her pussy was doing that to him. It made her smile as he stilled his hips and let out a low rumble. She did that to him. She’d made him come twice in one night. She made Harry Styles have two orgasms and he gave her three. Unheard of. Absolutely insane.

Her chest was still rising and falling heavily as Harry opened his eyes and looked down at her. She felt it, the way he looked at her. How connected they were. This wasn’t just sex. Or maybe it was, she really wouldn’t know because she’d been out of the game for some time. Perhaps this was just how he was with everyone he fucked. Made them dreamy and drowsy and feel things deeply for him. His charm was off the charts. Perhaps it was just that. Maybe nothing more.

Harry leaned down kissed the edge of her mouth and then pressed his lips firmly over hers, his cock still half-hard inside of her. He could get used to this. She was so open with him and somehow they just worked together. And even though this was all physical, Harry couldn’t help but wonder if this connection went beyond the physical. He did like her. A lot. Already. But that was how he was. He’d fall in love and then fall out of it just as quickly. He had to be careful. Not to hurt himself. Not to hurt her. He gazed down at her with a tired smile.

“Stay the night. Want you again in the morning. Would like to have you here with me in bed. Keep me warm.”

She swallowed and her heart thrashed in her chest. He was too good. This man could make anyone fall in love. She knew it. But she wasn’t going to say no. She likely would never have the chance with him again. And if the following morning was anything like what had just happened, well, she quickly found herself nodding, “Yes. Okay.”

. . .

She felt her thighs tingling and her hips were aching when she squinted her eyes open. She couldn’t read the clock on the table next to the bed. Her vision was blurry but the sun was peeking through the cracks of the curtains. It was morning. And the only reason she’d woken up was because Harry was lying behind her. He was moving the slightest with his chest pressed against her back and his breath on her neck.

She lifted her head and Harry perked up when he realized she was awake, “Good thing you’re awake. Was getting lonely here,” he spoke as he softly grazed his hand up over her tummy and then indulgently squeezed at her breast.

She swallowed and croaked out her words, “I would have slept longer I think.”

“You can go back to sleep if you really want,” he suddenly shifted and rutted into her bottom and it was then that she felt his stiff cock pressing into her. She wasn’t sure she was ready for more of him, “Um… I’m a little sore-“

“Yeah? Did I go too hard for you last night?” Harry continued pushing his cock into her cheeks. They were both naked so the sensation of his warm, big, prick pushing into her plump flesh was quite salacious.

“I actually loved it. Never thought I’d like anything like that…”

“Mmm… loved it you say? And you’re sure you’re too sore for one more? I can go in gently and make you come again. One more for the road?” He kissed her neck as he continued humping her. His cock was already leaking he was so hard for her, so needy for her pussy again.

Harry was quite convincing. And she was already getting turned on by the way he was pressing into her and kissing her neck. And he wanted her again?

“Well, if you can be gentle then I think I’d like that.”

Harry smiled into her neck and massaged her breast in gratitude before bringing his hand down to her hip and pulling at her so he could see her pussy lips peeking out between the back of her thighs when he backed up just a bit and stroked his cock through her soft labia.

“You’re already wet for me, baby. So needy for Daddy’s cock even when she’s sore. Gonna take good care of you okay?”

Pressing his tip to her entrance he groaned when he realized he needed a condom. He felt like soon enough, if she wanted to stick around, they’d forgo the safety measure. He wanted so badly to fuck her raw but it was too soon, “Fuck. I need to grab a condom. Stay right here.”

Harry was back behind her in only a handful of moments. She’d already begun rubbing her clit in preparation for him. She wanted to make sure she was fully aroused and ready for his wide cock.

“Good girl. Keep rubbing yourself like that. See how juicy you are already? Perfect…” he nearly purred as he pushed into her tight muscle. It was especially taut as he snapped forward and his wide crown finally popped into her. Once he had the swollen tip inside of her he pushed in until he was met with a bit of resistance. She was extra sensitive and snug but the sensation was incredible as her soft walls squeezed around him, the deeper he got the tighter it felt.

He was slow and gentle just like he said he’d be. He massaged her tit and kissed her neck and her jaw as he slowly rolled his hips into her.

“S’like fucking an angel. Your pussy is so goddamn perfect, baby. M’obessessed. Your body,” he pinched her nipple, “your tits, your lips,” each part he commented on he fucked inward with a slightly harder push, just to make his point as he lowered his hand down the curve of her waist to her hip, “your fine ass. All so perfect.”

Y/n breathed his words in as his cock drove into her deep, filling her so fully and perfectly. Those things had never been said to her before. Not in that way. She slipped her fingers back and forth over her clit and the tips of her fingers were grazing his cock as he fucked into her slowly, deeply. Everything was wet and perfect. He was right. This did feel perfect. Felt better than any other fucking ever. Harry was so good in bed. He hit all her spots (mentally and physically).

“I need it. Harry, I need it so bad,” she surprised herself as she moaned the words.

But suddenly Harry stopped, pushing his cock as deep as it could get and he grabbed her chin and turned her head so she could see him from her peripheral, “Call me Daddy when I’m fucking you. Be a good girl and I’ll let you come again.”

Why did she find that so hot? So fucking appealing? She had no idea. It was like something had been turned on inside of her that she had no clue was lying there beneath the surface. Maybe it was just Harry. But whatever it was she’d be fantasizing about this and needing this dominance in bed from any future partners.

“Sorry. Yes, Daddy. I’ll be a good girl.”

Harry groaned and released her chin and began to pump into her plump folds and she sped up her fingers as he spoke into her ear, “Say it again. Say you need me.”

She swallowed and her face was boiling hot as Harry’s long cock pressed into her guts and then backed out, punching her walls apart with each plunge, “I… fuck… yesss! I need you, Daddy. Please…”

Harry choked out a groan and smacked her bottom, “God I’m gonna imagine those words coming from your mouth every night. Say it again. Louder. Come on baby…”

Her voice was shaky like her thighs as her brain began to unravel and her orgasm started to spring out from her center, “I need you, Daddy! I’m your good girl!” She moaned as loudly as possible and Harry smiled with his cock happily coated in her.

Just then a knock came to the door, “Mr. Styles?” Someone spoke from behind the wood.

“Fuck,” Harry spoke lowly. He never stopped rolling his hips into hers as he shouted, “I’m busy!”

“Sorry to bother you. But we’ve been trying to call you all morning. We have a package delivery for you from the Secrist Gallery. Shall we just leave it out here?”

Everything paused. Y/n craned her neck to look at Harry and when their eyes met she saw his dark pupils and wet pink lips, messy hair. He was an angel, grinning at her, “Just leave it out there. I’ll be out soon.”

“Secrist Gallery? Did you-“

Harry pushed his mouth to hers and began to thrust again, speaking against her lips, “Keep rubbing that pussy for Daddy. It’s time to come. Need you to come.”

Her half-melted brain complied and as Harry increased his pace their bodies began to slap together, wet noises coming from them on each stroke. Harry kept his tongue in her mouth and his fingers pinching her nipple as they writhed together.

She felt him slicing into her, his cock suddenly harder than steel inside of her and her fingers slippery over her clit. He was shaking, holding back his release and his kisses became sloppy, wet, wide-open-mouthed, tongue all over her lips and inside of her mouth.

She inhaled sharply when the dam broke. She moaned into his mouth and he moaned into hers as they both came at the same time, she pushed against him to get him deeper inside and he stuffed himself into the hilt, his balls thick and bursting tucked up against her as he spilled into his condom. Her vision went dark and her ears began to ring as Harry continued to kiss her, lick her, suck the life out of her.

It was insane how hard she came. She had never had a man so effortlessly work her up and make her come like Harry had. Wave after wave of electricity zipped through her body as she pulsed and sucked his cock in, gripping around him.

Eventually, they stopped moving and began to breathe again. Heavy pants and soft coos fell from their lips. The afterglow was incredible. Harry hadn’t felt it like that before. And he hated that he had to leave. That he needed to send her off and go away to his next destination.

When her brain began to fit itself back together inside of her skull she turned again to look at him as he slid out, “Did you buy a painting? Of mine?”

Harry rolled onto his back and smirked at her, “I did.”

She laughed and smacked his chest, “Which one? Why didn’t you say anything? How did you do it? I didn’t see you at the gallery.”

Harry sat up and pulled at Y/n’s arm, needing her closer, “I had one of my assistants go and take a photo of each one. I picked the one I liked the most. You named the piece The Lonely Dark. Love it. I loved a lot of them. But figured for now just one will do since I’ve got to have it shipped to LA.

The Lonely Dark. A sort of nod to her husband. What had been and the way she felt at night when she was alone with no one. She swallowed and Harry kissed her cheek, “Is it okay that I bought one? Is that weird?”

Y/n laughed and shook her head, “No. I’m flattered that Harry Styles wanted to buy a painting of mine. I’m gonna tell everyone that you own one of my pieces now.”

“Yeah? Maybe I’ll invite you to my house in LA when I get back to the States after the next leg of my tour so you can see where I’ve hung it.”

She pushed at him in jest, “Yeah right. Don’t tease. You don’t actually want me at your private home.”

Harry grabbed her hand and brought it up to his chest with a frown on his face, “Why wouldn’t I?”

Shaking her head she blinked her eyes, “Because. You’re Harry Styles. I’m some girl from the Midwest who paints. I’m just saying, don’t say things like that when you don’t mean it.”

“But I meant it. I really like you, Y/n. I want to see you again.”

It was unexpected. She didn’t imagine he’d actually be inviting her to his home or telling her he wanted to see her again. But she was so stunned by his admission that she couldn’t think of anything to say except, “Well then you’re gonna need to give me your number.”

Chapter 2

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blue-sadie · 5 months

Text

A Change In The Air

Alpha Tonowari x Omega Sully Reader x Beta Ronal

Summary: they could feel it, the change in the air but they don't know if it's for the better or.... the better

Warning: beach sex, omegaverse

(I tried something a bit different so tell me if you like it 😁)

Yn/3rd person pov

The chief and chieftainess felt something change in the air, since they rose early this morning they could feel something was different something was coming.

Tonowari was somewhat excited of something different happening and not the same old same old, he was kinda tired of it while ronal felt on edge and stuck to her role keeping to herself most of the day.

Tonowari felt her unease and when they heard the horn of new comers he stuck by her side shielding her protectively, the crowd parted letting their leaders through, Tonowaris steps faulted as he caught sight of one of the outsiders, his pheromones spiking with excitement as their eyes met.

Ronal stepped out from behind her mate her brows frowned in confusion at her mates behavior intill her eyes too met the same outside, both tonowari and ronal felt as if the world stop, like time had frozen as they stared at her.

"We come seeking refuge" tonowari immediately recognized the famous jake sully as he shook his out of his daze by speaking up "my family is endanger" he gestured to the kids and his mate, ronal moved to look between them her eyes raking over their bodies her hands grabbing at them and speaking off their flaws.

Tonowari actually felt somewhat embarrassed for his mates behavior and his eyes followed her intently as she stood by the girl that peaked his interest, ronal paused her eyes carefully moving over the woman's body her body shaking slightly as the woman turned to her, her pheromones giving off a warning which ronal hissed at making tonowari snap at her "stop it" ronal was shocked and whimpered going back to her mates side.

"You can stay and learn our ways" he turned to his people raising his arms "we will treat them like babies who are just learning to swim treat them well" he spoke some of the people gasped and whispered to each but tonowari ignored them looking towards his children "you will teach their kids our was and tsireya help them to their new home" he raiser his hand before aonung could protest.

Tonowari and ronal stood their ground watching the family unload their eyes mostly following the woman watching her caring nature as she spook to the sully children, ronal shifted as the woman carried stuff and was about to walk past them.

"And what is your name" tonowari asked making the woman stop and stare at them "yn" their bodies shivered hearing her voice they almost purred at the sound of it, "come to us later I'm sure there's alot we can discuss" the couple felt it and they knew yn felt it too.

I nodded nervously shifting the load in my arms before quickly scarring off after my brother and his family and dark blush forming on my cheeks, I quickly set the stuff down in the tent and started helping neytiri unpack while Jake and the kids went after the family meeting of jake warning the kids about doing anything stupid.

Unpacking and starting dinner took us a few minutes into eclipse "I think I'm gonna go exploring a bit before bed" I said neytiri smiled and nodded as she was mixing the food "just make sure you don't get lost sis" jake murmured his eyes focused on his gun making sure everything was set incase something were to happen.

I missed tuks hair as I walked past her making her whine "I'll see you guys later" I said and slowly walked along the woven pathways, I made my way onto the beach smiling to the few people that were enjoying the moon light, I took in a deep breath the salt in the air made it crisp much different then the forest of Pandora.

I started to hum as I made my way further down the beach further from civilization I thought I was alone intill I heard it, my hears flickered as I slowly followed the noises my eyes widening as I saw them, tonowari and ronal naked on the sand their bodies intertwined with eachother, ronals legs were thrown over tonowaris shoulders the force of his thrusts sending her further into the sand.

Ronals moans and whines were loud and struggled, I felt myself quiver and start to get aroused a small whimper leaving my lips, my eyes widened as a familiar feeling started to rise I fell to my knees clenching my stomach the heat between my legs increasing, "f-fuck" I whined the heat radiating to other parts of my body, my cheeks burning and my head fuzzy.

My nose crinkled as their honey scented pheromones filled my nose making more pitiful moans leave my lips this was so embarrassing I haven't even exchanged more then a nod with them "and what do we have here" I squirmed and slowly lifted my gaze my vision somewhat blurred tonowari and ronal stood naked infront of me.

"Looks like our mate needs our help" ronal cooed and slowly kneeled infront of me her hand coming to clasp my chin keeping my head close to hers "I'll forgive you for growling at me because you just look so pitiful" she teased bringing her lips to my skin her plump lips grazed my skin as she moved it to my mating gland her tongue licking the skin making me whimper "she's perfect" ronal growled before pushing her teeth into my skin.

A struggled scream left my lips my hands immediately moving to clamp down on her shoulders, my eyes widen as I felt tonowaris hand cover my mouth "as much as I'm sure we'd love to hear those beautiful screams I'm also sure my people don't need to come running and find us" he muttered moving behind me and sinking to his knees, he too moved his lips to my neck and bit down.

My body squirmed between them making them press their bodies closer to me trapping me between them tightly "move back my dear so we can pleasure this horny little omega" he growled pulling back from my skin, my skin felt cold from the lose of his lips against my skin, ronal whined but listened to the alpha and moved away from my body "go onto all fours omega" tonowari commanded and pushed me forward I gasped feeling the roughness of the sand against the palm of my hands.

"Now your gonna eat out our pretty beta while I fuck you" he growled his hands tearing off my skirt, my eyes pleaded as I stared up at ronal making her coo and slowly move her hand to my cheek but quickly moved it to grasp my hair tightly I gasped from the pain and squealed out as she pushed my face down between her legs.

I slowly started to lick her folds causing her to moan out and tug at my hair "that's it omega" he murmured and moved his already leaking cock to my entrance thrusting in fully forcing me more into ronals pussy "ohh keep doing that tono" she moaned.

Tonowari chuckled and started to thrust in and out each time pressing me into ronal, my moans and crys of pleasure were muffled by ronal and she kept praising me for it "those moans are sending vibrations through my body" she cried out arching her back.

Tonowari grunted as I felt his cock start to swell my eyes widening and a few tears started to form, his knot was forming inside me "your ours you both are mine" he growled snapping his hips roughly into my causing me to cry out in ronals folds, "cumming" ronal screamed out her fluids filling my mouth, she moved away her body still twitching from her climax she watched through half lidded eyes as I released around tonowari cock but he still wasn't done.

"Fuck fuck fuck" he growled his hands clasping my hips tightly his nails digging into my skin almost that he could draw blood "fuck" he yelled thrusting in one more time before releasing his seed inside me, my eyes fluttered as my arms gave out making me fall down against the sand, I lazily lifted my head and looked down to try and see where our bodies were connected but I couldn't because the amount of semen released inside me caused my belly to bulge.

"Don't worry pup there's way more where that came from and trust me we won't be stopping any time soon".

Tag.List

@sweetirilly @erenjaegerwifee @greekgods15 @neteyamyawne @laylasbunbunny @thatonepansexual2000

#avatar #avatar x reader #avatar pandora #avatar way of water #avatar x reader smut #avatar smut #tonowari smut #tonowari x reader x ronal #tonowari x reader #tonowari #tonowari x reader smut #avatar omegaverse #alpha tonowari x omega reader #ronal x reader #ronal #ronal x reader smut #ronal smut #ronal x tonowari #beta ronal x omega reader

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randombush3 · 6 months

Text

ubi amor, ibi dolor

alexia putellas x reader

part one

words: 11455 (SORRY THERE WAS A LOT TO FIT IN)

summary: alexia and you as posh + becks part two x

content warnings: it’s gets a little sad but tbh the next part is the one you should be worried abt 🤘

notes: this one covers 2017-2019. i apologise if it’s a bit jumpy because if i covered EVERYTHING you’d be sat here reading for days. also, this part was so slow to be finished because i abandoned it for ages and only just decided i should probs get to finishing it. the next part is the last one!

It’s about three months later, and there is not a silence that can’t be filled with the sound of Alexia’s voice. You don’t know how to prove this, because you leave none to be filled, instead seeking to occupy every spare second granted by your tour schedule to call her, to text her; to talk to her.

You spend your nights on balconies all over the continent. Your smoking habit is worsening but the excuse of getting some fresh air to do so is a perfect way to weasel yourself out of parties and clubs and late-night chats with your friends. You much prefer to spend your time finding out more about the woman you quickly become obsessed with. She often verbalises her disdain for your disregard for your lungs – something that transcends the language barrier with an overwhelming clarity – but she is glad that you are talking to her either way.

A few times, you go as far as to hop on a secretly booked flight. You never step outside the airport, leaving Barcelona very much stamped in your passport but not on your list of places you have explored, but Alexia is more than content to pursue your hooded figure as you lead her into hidden corners of the arrivals lounge she begins to associate with the racing feeling in her heart when she sees you. Kissing against walls and on hard airport seats is not what feeds most budding romances, but you don’t care. You happily fly to her whenever you have a spare five minutes, and she is more than content to make the time spent physically together worthwhile.

The tour is nearly over. Five shows in three weeks, and then you can traipse back to London to fight off the delayed hangover in the comfort of your own home with meals cooked by your parents to keep you going. One of the worst things about being on the road is the food (or lack thereof), and your athlete gi… Alexia, is unimpressed with your nutrition. You find that she does not agree with most of your lifestyle, yet she seems captivated by it; like she is discovering a different, scarier world, and she can’t close her eyes.

Alexia’s birthday is soon.

She has enough dread for the event to have communicated it far more efficiently than usual, with most conversations needing to be doubled in length to get past the all-too-familiar grunts of unrecognition. The streets of Barcelona are filled with whispers of a women’s league, and she is unsure of the pressure that is starting to grow on her shoulders. A birthday is inconvenient, she claims, though you only laugh.

You tell her about Virgil – she knows you love him, she knows you love most things to do with him – and his famous quote. “Labor omnia vincit,” you say, finding it ironic that you are only able to talk to her right now because you skipped out on soundcheck and a run-through with the backup dancers. “Work conquers all. It reminds me of you.”

Her lilting Spanish laughter fades as she actually thinks about it.

“Es verdad,” Alexia replies, and you are glad to understand. “Quiero ser la mejor del mundo así que ‘labor omnia vincit’.”

“You’re speaking Latin with a Spanish accent.”

“You love my accent.”

You smile. It’s true.

…

It hasn’t settled in Alexia’s mind that you, who calls her whenever you can because you miss her opinions and her jokes and the face that you can picture when she speaks, are the same person as the one she sees on Jenni’s phone as the team crowds round the screen to watch a viral video from your concert last night.

“A birthday present for you, eh, Ale?” Jenni jests, clinging on to Alexia’s admission months ago about her crush on you. She doesn’t know about the reality of it all. No one does, as of yet.

“Who puts them in these outfits?” asks Leila, mildly outraged at the bedazzled lingerie you’d been dressed in. “There’s nothing to them! They might as well go on stage naked.”

“It’s fine. They get hot while they’re performing anyway,” Alexia dismisses, not wanting to delve into your issues with your stylist. Well. Her issues with your stylist, who seems to not care about dignity or have any faith in the world’s imagination. (That, and Alexia is not sure she likes this idea of sharing, though she is aware that nothing defines you as hers.)

“Oh, did they tell you that themselves?” She glares at Jenni, and shoulders her way out of the huddle. It’s not Jenni’s fault that her mood has been easily soured, because tomorrow is Alexia’s birthday and then, the next day, she has to get to Madrid for her national camp. The Euros later this year is going to be in the Netherlands, and her dreams for her country are currently far-fetched. It hurts, and you’re well aware of her misery.

In fact, you are so aware that you are on a flight from Oslo on the fourth of February. It’s too special a day to miss. You have once again abandoned soundcheck.

Alexia receives a text as she slides into her mother’s old car, considering flinging the device out of the window at one of her teammates’ heads after they sang to her at training without the mercy of letting her forget that she is one year closer to the end of her career. At this rate, the career will be full of wasted potential. She is in a terrible mood about it.

And then she looks at her phone.

You have really tried to up your game with the Spanish of late, enlisting the help of a private tutor who Skypes you twice a week with new phrases and grammar that mildly resembles that of a dead language you carry more than a passion for.

You: Estoy aquí!

The only thing she can think to do is slam her index finger on the call button of your contact, nail bending painfully on the glass of the screen.

Your instructions are clear: “Airport. Now.”

She drives.

She drives at an embarrassingly desperate speed, because just over a week is too long a separation and her day has been awful and there is something so magnetic about your presence that she would be going against nature to do anything other than find you. Obviously, find you she does: right in the arrivals lounge, same black hoodie as always disguising your identity. It’s not any busier than usual, and you catch sight of her the minute she pushes her way to the front of the crowd of expectant faces.

With a weary grin, you walk towards her, and she knows that this game is only temporary. There will be privacy close by, and you can speak then.

She turns with a nod, and you follow as she takes the usual route, but suddenly there are fingers intertwined with her own and you are stopping her in front of everyone.

“Feliz cumpleaños,” you say with a pronounced failure and a hilariously concentrated expression. Alexia giggles, and the storm cloud above her dissipates, but the kiss she wants to press to your lips will have to wait. There’s somewhere empty just around the corner, and she tugs your hand to get you to come with her – to match the same haste she has – but you don’t. “Al coche. So we can go to your casa.”

Her eyebrows raise.

“It’s your birthday,” you explain, stepping towards her so that the people around you see a couple instead of two women walking in a vague direction. Alexia swallows, body tingling at your proximity. Her body always tingles when you stand near her like this. “It’s your birthday, so I am here for the night. My flight is tomorrow.”

She understands you entirely.

She all but drags you to her car.

Alexia does not even remember what it’s like to be miserable. She is set alight by your presence, by your lips, your hands, your soft greeting that you whisper in her ear when she pulls away to drive you to her flat. It’s a new place, and she is free from the fuss of her mother.

You smile when she pulls you out, taking your bulging handbag in one hand and grasping yours with the other, and she kisses that smile as she presses you against the mirror in the lift. The bag hits the floor with a thud, your overnight things spilling out because of her carelessness, but you pay the rolling Dior lipstick no mind, too caught up in the way her tongue swirls in your mouth. How her hands grip your waist.

She’s stronger than last time. She gets stronger every day: she is going to be the best footballer in the world. She is dedicated to her sport.

Your palms travel up the back of her t-shirt, cold from the metal you’d previously had them pressed against. Alexia flinches as your fingers brush a particular spot, the skin there slightly raised.

“¿Que pasó?” you ask, head tilted to the side as she draws back, panting. “Are you hurt?”

She examines your eyes. Deeply inquisitive. Full of something that may resemble love in the future.

Alexia smiles – an expression that she wears mostly when she is thinking about you. You watch as she turns around, the lift jerking to a halt as if to hurry up her slow movements. As she lifts up her t-shirt, you eye the tattoos you are aware decorate her back. There are going to be more someday, she has always been clear about that.

And, oh.

You’re not usually so attached. Alexia, it’s apparent, is a complete exception.

She asks you if you like it. You lean forward, and kiss the four words (she must have researched the quote, because you excluded the last when you mentioned it), tongue running over the redness as if you are going to heal the irritation. She moans quietly, more surprised than anything else.

“Do I get the credit for it?” She shakes her head, which you catch in the mirror opposite, and, before you can voice your protest, she is facing the right way again and kissing you as she leads you to her door. “You know, there’s another quote from him that I much prefer to that one. ‘Labor omnia vincit improbus’ is… Do you know the word workaholic?” Again, her head shakes. She backs you against the wall next to her door, lips attached to your neck as you keen under her touch.

She slots her leg between yours, and you forget your next sentence.

It’s a heated kiss. It promises tonight’s activities to you, and you cannot wait for her to unlock her door.

Your lips run along her neck as she jams her key into the lock. You suck and bite, spurred on by the moans she bites back with a clenched jaw. You find it sexy: her determination to get you inside. And it’s her birthday, after all. She deserves it. You have another gift for her in your bag, but she is grateful for this anyway.

“Inside,” she gasps as you smooth your tongue over the newly-created hickey you just gave her, kicking her door wide open and hauling you through the gap.

The flat is pitch black, but Alexia knows it well enough to chuck your bag towards the dining table and have you on your way to the bedroom without needing to switch any lights on. But your hands wander, and she gets distracted. She stops you in the middle of the flat, only half a second into your journey, and her life feels so full (especially when you moan like that). The room feels so full.

The room is full.

The room is…

“Moltes felicitats, moltes felici–” sings (and abruptly stops) a whole choir of Alexia’s friends and family, the lights switching to bathe the two of you in total mortification.

Alba’s hand covers the eyes of her cousin’s six-year-old, whose mouth has formed a perfect circle.

Silence washes over what looks to be a surprise birthday party. One which Alexia was assured yesterday was not going to happen. By multiple guilty attendees!

Alexia looks helplessly between you, her mother, and the shit-eating grin on Jenni Hermoso’s face, remembering herself promptly when Eli’s eyes drop to the placement of her hands on your bum. She almost jumps away from you.

“Fuck off,” you mutter under your breath, stewing in the terribly awkward silence as Alexia’s eyes only grow wider and wider. “Alexia.”

She breaks from her frozen state, thawed by the husk of your voice.

“Jo…”

The crowd explodes, and you let the tsunami of Catalan wash over your ears. There is so much noise, and so many people, and you can only watch as Alexia tries to answer all of their questions. She shakes her head, nodding at the same time, switching between two different languages to cover the shrieks from Jenni and the absolute bollocking her mother is giving her in front of everyone about dignity and respect. You are famous, says Eli, and you do not need Alexia’s horny motives to embarass you like that.

“She’s a celebrity,” Eli chides with a glare at her daughter, eyes softening as you continue to stare at the sea of faces blankly. You are backed against a wall with nowhere to run. “Alexia, introduce us to your girlfriend. Now.”

“You guys don’t need to be introduced to her!” Alexia replies like a petulant child, nearly crossing her arms and stamping her foot. “You know her name, and you’ve seen her. So you should all leave, really. Mami, I told you I didn’t want a party.”

Eli’s hands fly from her body to halt the departure of the guests as they catch on to how unwanted they are. “No, we are still going to have this party,” she insists. It’s the final decision. “So, go on. Introduce us.” It’s definitely not a question.

You clear your throat, wanting to save Alexia somehow. “Hola,” you begin, and every face breaks out into a beaming grin. “Um. Soy Y/n. Y… soy de Inglaterra?”

“Sí,” Eli says with a swell of encouragement that you can feel from two metres away.

“Alexia,” you plead.

“Guys, this is Y/n. She doesn’t speak Spanish, and she definitely does not speak Catalan, so either you practise your English or we cut the cake Mami has made and then you–”

“I am a big fan!” Jenni squeals, accented words loud and piercing as she surges towards you, sparking the movement of the entire body of people. No one listens to the rest of Alexia’s declaration.

…

There is a reason you are so well-liked, Alexia determines. She can see it as you interact with her family and closest friends. You smile and you listen and you remember things about people that they would deem insignificant. And it helps that you look breath-taking while doing it all.

Sitting at her dining table, Alba on one side, her mother on the other, she watches you flit around her flat with a talent for socialising, charming every person you speak to.

“She doesn’t know how you feel, does she?” Eli comments, noticing the hesitation in her daughter’s expression.

“I don’t know how she feels,” is what Alexia replies, because there is no way you can ignore the emotion she pours into your conversations. It exceeds that of a simple crush or hormone-fuelled desire. “She is incredible. I am me.”

“You are Alexia Putellas.”

“And she at least likes the way you kiss her,” Alba chimes in, her contribution unnecessary but making Alexia blush at the memory. The fact that her entire family saw that, most of them knowing where you were heading, is something she might be tossing and turning about at night for a while yet.

“Your father would love her.”

“I think so too,” Alexia says, chin resting on her palm as the world melts away, your eyes briefly meeting with hers as one of the children giggles at the face you have just pulled behind their mother’s back. A pang of disappointment reverberates in her chest as she grieves momentarily over the loss of her favourite person on Earth, wishing he could have shared the traumatic experience of today. He would’ve laughed so hard at her face when the lights went on.

“She seems lovely, really. Very polite. Is it because she’s English?”

“She is very…”

“I suppose the Latin came from her?” Alba asks with a smirk, prodding the fresh tattoo over the thin material of Alexia’s t-shirt, grinning as her sister hisses in pain.

“Next time, we can go somewhere quieter and talk properly. I know that you’ll be busy when tonight is over.”

Both Alexia and Alba shudder. “Mami!” her little sister groans, suppressing her gag.

“Sex is nothing to be ashamed of, Alba.”

“Never say ‘sex’ in front of me again,” Alexia tells her smug mother.

“Well, never get so caught up in the moment that you don’t notice the balloons taped to your flat number.”

Alexia bolts outside to check, and hates herself when she sees them.

…

“Dance with me!”

You grab Alexia’s hand, pulling her towards you. The party has lasted longer than she’s happy with, and you have seemingly forgotten about what you could be doing. You love to dance. You love music.

The little boy who’d been your partner up until now sticks his tongue out at Alexia, and she reciprocates the gesture. She is the birthday girl, after all.

You don’t understand a word of the music, but the beat flows through your hips as you move them against her. She runs her hands up and down your sides, your tank top now the only layer between your skin and her impatient fingers, hoodie having been stripped off the minute the party became interesting.

“My mother likes you,” Alexia whispers into your ear as you sway in time to the rhythm. Her lips brush your ear lobe, and you shiver despite the growing heat between you.

“This was very much a surprise,” you giggle in response, possibly answering wrong because her Spanish didn’t quite catch.

“Mhm.”

“I can’t wait for them to leave.”

Her eyebrows furrow. “You are not having fun?”

“I am,” you reply with a nod, a smirk slowly creeping into your content expression. She holds her breath, reminding herself of the presence of her family as you grind into her. “But I also can’t wait to fuck you.”

Alexia shudders.

“I will tell them to go.”

They cut the cake.

They sing again, completing the lyrics this time. You are even taught them before-hand, pushed out to the side of the crowd, very much silently told that you currently hold no place in Alexia’s life in comparison to these people. They all love her. You aren’t there yet.

But, she values your presence.

Alexia doesn’t care much about the people here tonight. She sees them almost every day, and she knows they are constants. What she does care about is you.

You, in that tank top. You, with your hair down, face fresh even though your day must have been exhausting. You, with a red mark on your collarbone that no one knows how to point out to you in English.

Soon, everyone is gone, and you are panting underneath her. Her lips capture yours, muffling the groan that comes with the movement of her fingers inside you. Your legs wrap around her body tighter, heels digging into her back.

Her hair falls around you; encapsulating you, surrounding you with only her. Her smell, her taste, her fingers.

You moan as her determination to destroy you becomes apparent. She hits every spot that has been neglected for the past few months, and though it is the first time the two of you are doing this, it’s as if Alexia has studied your body for years already.

She breaks apart from you as you come, your back arching off the mattress, chest pressing against hers. She wants to see your face for the first time. If she had a camera, she would have used it. You look beautiful.

Nothing on Earth compares to the cliff you have just been pushed off, and it is as if you are falling for eternity.

She goes again, and again, and again. She’s an athlete.

She ruins you, but her strong arms hold you together afterwards.

You fall asleep, for the first time in a while, with someone by your side. Whose hands find purchase on her favourite part of you, pulling you on top of her as she whines at your own tired attempt to make her feel good. Alexia whispers that she has been given enough, that she doesn’t need it, and she thinks you fall asleep to the sound of her incomprehensible, breathy Spanish. You cling to her.

…

The tour ends.

You couldn’t be happier. The final show is a blessing, and the tears in your eyes are of joy. You, Gio, and Anya are going home at last.

However, the well-decorated flat you walk into lacks everything possible, because there is no Alexia standing in the middle of the living room. She can’t be here, though you wish things were different. The season has been successful for her so far, and she is busy.

You really miss her. One night wasn’t enough. It will never be enough, and you are starting to realise the gravity of your blushes.

You like Alexia, and you have fallen hard and fast.

“You’re not coming back with us,” your brother says knowingly, skiing beside you down the picturesque blue run in Les Gets. You have come here every year since you were eight. April is a little later than usual, and the snow often turns to slush towards the afternoon – though one could argue that is simply a cue to move onto apres-ski – but it is pleasant to be on holiday with your family. People try to bother you, but it is easier to pretend you don’t see their waves when you have your ski goggles pulled over your eyes.

Your brother coughs, not pleased that you are ignoring him, reducing him to ‘everyone else’. (His ego, far too preened, far too large, cannot handle the idea of that.)

In front of the two of you, your father turns with precision and great technique. You can’t relate: you’re drunk. You have been since this morning.

“Sorry?” Your innocence is pretence and he rolls his eyes behind his Oakleys.

“Your flight. I saw it was booked to take you somewhere else. Somewhere you’ve been going a lot.”

“You’re not subtle.”

“You’re not subtle,” he replies, skis dangerously close to yours. You have to swerve, sending you onto the off-piste section of the run much to your irritation. With the excuse of tackling the jumps, however, you are lucky to evade further questioning, watching as he glides off into the distance, reaching the banner and skidding to a halt to wait for you and your mother. Your mother prefers to drink more than ski. She is always holding up the rear.

When you return to the chalet, bought by your parents a decade ago to solidify their roots in Les Gets, your brother seems to have remembered your conversation from earlier. Your parents have gone out for dinner, leaving the two of you to make something for yourselves. He is glad to have you alone.

“You don’t like lads, do you?” And, in truth, it’s an insightful question by his standards. He cares; he just does not know how to show it.

Pausing the construction of your sandwich for a moment, you allow him to see you for who you are. He’s your brother, after all. “Not at all,” comes your response.

He hums. “Thought so. You’d have gone out with half of England’s football team otherwise. God knows that they don’t mind.”

“England has a women’s team.”

“Gross.” His lips purse as he thinks about his little sister’s love life, and he decides that he would like to know more about Barcelona. “Are you buying a villa?”

“What?”

“Well, you go to Barcelona a lot. Are you buying a villa with the girls? Is that what celebrities do?”

You roll your eyes. “Mum and Dad buy villas. It isn’t just celebrities who splurge on property.”

“You’re not answering my question.”

“I wish you’d never become a lawyer.”

He laughs – hearty and deep. His laugh reminds you of dark forests for some reason; tall trees that dwarf your body, but keep you safe nonetheless. “I wish you’d never gotten famous. My life would be so much quieter if half my mates weren’t trying to squeeze something or other out of my connections.” His pride is profound in his misery, and you smile, blushing. “You’re not buying a villa.”

“Well done, genius,” you taunt, assembling your sandwich once again in hopes that the baguette will kill the buzz in your mind. You can’t really think when you’re drunk, and, recently, when there is nothing else to occupy you, your mind wanders to Alexia. What is she doing now? Does she miss you? Is she excited to see you in three days?

It dawns upon his face with an amusing animation. “You’re seeing someone,” he accuses.

“Maybe,” you shrug. “She’d be one lucky girl.”

“One unlucky girl, you mean. I’d better find out who she is and tell her to run for the hills. You’re about two decades overdue for an exorcism, and it shows.” He swiftly appears behind you, despite his lumbering limbs, and flicks your ear as your teeth sink into your dinner. You squeal, pushing backwards to get him away from you. “What’s her name? Who is she? What does she do?”

“She is… classified.”

He reaches for his phone. “I’m going to find a list of Spanish names and see which one turns you into a tomato.”

“She’s still classified.” You prod your index finger into his shoulder.

“Hey.” You retract your finger, surprised by the tenderness of his tone. “You can tell me, you know. You’re my little sister. I really don’t give enough of a fuck to spread it.”

With great shame, you absolutely do not need to be told twice to talk about your favourite Spanish woman on the planet at the moment. He actually has to beg you to stop.

…

Things with Alexia are good.

Not just in terms of your relationship, but in general, too. Walks are more enjoyable, and so are mornings, afternoons, evenings. She likes that you feel comfortable to chill in her flat while she goes to training. She likes that she comes home to you. She likes that you spend your days with a pencil between your teeth, a blank page set out in front of you.

Now that the tour is over, it is clear what comes next. The new album will be the best ever made, you have decided, because you might finally understand the lyrics that you sing. They could resonate.

They will resonate.

Alexia asks you to be her girlfriend when she drops you off at the airport. Your plane is private and she can kiss you goodbye when you agree.

You love being Alexia’s girlfriend. You repeat your new identity over and over as you fly back to London, and it is a mantra that plays on loop in your mind as you get on with life back home.

The girls tease you mercilessly when you spill it. All three of you are on the balcony, though this time there is a joint placed between your fingers rather than a cigarette. Slightly high, more so giddy about Alexia, you confess. They’re happy for you, but Gio can’t help but text Anya later that night.

Gio: Have you seen the new plan?

Anya: What plan?

Gio is sitting upright in her bed, ensuring that her panic is quiet so her new boyfriend does not wake up. Her fingers hover over the keys shamefully, but she has to tell someone and it can’t be you.

Gio: The publicity plan.

It’s at your studio session the next day when all comes to light. Your manager/publicist appears, which is honestly quite rare. She’s not fond of the claustrophobia of the small room, nor the darkness it becomes shrouded in when you, Gio, and Anya are trying not to murder each other.

Dave swivels around on his chair, bored with the bickering. You aren’t sure about a lyric, but they disagree, even if Anya knows you have a better point than the third member of your group.

Your manager clears her throat. “Y/n, may I speak with you? It’s quite important.”

“Do this lyric without me,” you grit out to Gio.

“It’s your solo.”

“I don’t care.”

With that, you follow your manager into the corridor.

They hear your protests from the studio, the shout of frustration piercing through the small gap underneath the door, overcoming the supposedly impregnable sound-proofing.

There are tears streaming down your face upon your return. Fuck her, and fuck him.

Anya and Gio can’t look at you. Their chins dip to their chest as they slump in place, succumbing to the predetermined guilt they discovered last night.

“It’s not fair,” you cry to them as they refuse to turn around, throwing yourself onto the sofa with a heaving sob. “It’s not fair, it’s not fair. She’s going to hate me — she’s not going to love me anymore, and I… I love her.”

Anya’s mouth opens with a sob of her own. She had thought Alexia was a dalliance. She hadn’t realised.

It’s fun to have someone, she knows, but it is painful to love them.

You are clearly not enjoying yourself now.

“You love her?” she asks, though she is sure of the answer as another gasp leaves your body with a chilling desperation.

“Yes, I fucking love her. It was obvious.”

“But you—”

“Because I’m not out!”

“So what did she tell you?”

“They want it to last a few months. Enough to draw the attention away from my aversion to men and his relationship with some blogger.”

Anya gulps. A few months is a lot to endure, especially for the footballer whose heart you’ll be breaking. “You’ve said no, right?” she tries, paling as she grips onto the mic stand, trying in vain to remember the harmony she is supposed to sing. “You’ve told them… You’re you, of course you’ve said no!”

“Of course,” Gio adds, equally in denial.

You can only shake your head.

You were not given a choice.

Telling Alexia is hard, and not just because of the tears running through your words as you try to get them out over the phone.

In Barcelona, her head hangs in disappointment. She is never going to be good enough for you, she tells herself. The world will soon slot you by the side of another celebrity, and you will be pictured together as many times as humanly possible. No one will know that she is the one you call when you need to talk to someone, or that it is her rose that is pressed between your favourite copy of Little Women, saved from Sant Jordi. No one will be any the wiser to the girlfriend you keep in Spain, nor assume that you are visiting the country for a reason other than tourism and partying with your favourite foreign men’s football team.

It goes like this for months.

It sours the second- place finish in the league even more; makes the Champions League semi-final exit soul-destroying; and completely ruins her joy about winning the Copa de la Reina (worsened by a picture of you and him released the morning of the final).

She is still your girlfriend, but she is always one step behind you. She is in the shadows of the crowd when you sell out Wembley for the first time, and is just out of frame in the picture captured backstage of you and your lover embracing. His muscles do not feel the same as Alexia’s, but he becomes a friend, you guess. He isn’t fond of the arrangement either.

Then, when Alexia feels as though she might explode from the jealousy she harbours, she is tested once more as you go radio silent for a day. It’s unbearable. You usually text her every hour.

She misses hearing you greet her with ‘I took a smoke break’. She misses the taste of your lips, and the heat of your breath, and the swell of emotion you cause inside of her when you show her that you really care.

It’s a hard day. The Euros have started, and Spain has won their first two group stage matches. Vilda is terrible as usual, but it is nothing in comparison to the cavity left in her chest where you have carved out your notifications. Alexia has never wished to be distracted from football before, but today is clearly Judgement Day.

“Is this about your girlfriend?” Jenni pesters, mocking Alexia’s frown by exaggerating it on her own face. “She’s not pinging your phone every five minutes and now you’re inconsolable.”

“I have many things to be upset about,” Alexia replies moodily, though Vilda’s earlier berating has had no effect on her mood because it simply cannot get worse. “Our coach is shit, and we don’t get treated like England or Holland does.”

“And your girlfriend hasn’t texted you.”

“Yes, Jenni. She hasn’t texted me.”

She sighs.

Jenni is repulsed by the fire in Alexia’s belly seemingly having been put out. Her grimace is noticeable as she bends down to unlace her boots, glancing around the shoddy locker room, imagining what Alexia claims a few of the other teams have.

“Maybe she’s busy. She is, like, famous. She could be out for lunch with Shakira!”

“No, that was last month.”

Jenni pauses for a moment, awestruck at her friend's seriousness, before collecting herself and trying another approach. “Why don’t we do some shooting practice while you wait for her to call? That way, Spain gets more goals, and you’re…”

She doesn’t get to finish, cut off by the alarming brrrp of Alexia’s phone. Her friend saddens at the volume, pitying Alexia for how loud she has turned her ringer up just in case she had been missing your notification all along.

Alexia swipes her phone up from the bench, and hurries into the toilets.

Throughout the five months you have been dating, Alexia has become increasingly more aware of your intense reactions to emotional situations. You feel when you feel. She admires you for your work ethic, as you do her, because you fly from Barcelona to London and back again, all while writing songs, humming melodies, and holding together your high-profile life. Unfortunately, your determination and tendency to give everything and more has bled into every aspect of your life. And you are a wreck when she finally gets a word out of you.

“Tranquila, cariño,” she tries as you suck in a pathetically shallow breath. She knows exactly how many kilometres away from her you are, and she wishes she could sprint the distance. “Tranquila. What has happened?”

“I… I fired her.”

“Who?”

“My manager.” Alexia’s hand balls into a fist and she quietly celebrates. Well, until you sob again. “I mean, we all fired her. But now we have no manager and Dave is concerned about the structure of our group and the album sucks and it’s shit and HE tried to kiss me yesterday, even though he’s got a girlfriend too!”

“Búa, más slower, por favor. I’m not inglesa!”

Life, even if you are upset right now, starts to look up. You even get to spend a month with her, practising your Spanish (mejor-ing your nivel de español), meeting her family in a more appropriate context, and even watching the first match of the 2017-2018 season. Which Alexia is adamant they will win.

…

She proposes in November; a year after you kissed.

It’s not a hard decision to make. Not when you have built IKEA furniture together, and spent a week in Menorca with her, her mother, and her sister. Not when her English is littered with your vocabulary and references to Virgil and the like, and your family can all shout at you in Spanish because they’ve heard her do it so many times. Not when ‘I love you’ is the easiest sentence she’s ever said. Every minute of her life that she gives you is like exchanging part of her soul for pure, complete bliss.

You’re fucking freezing, and befuddled at the fact that Alexia has requested to take a walk in the park near your flat. Your Spanish girlfriend, the same woman who finds summer too temperate in England, has somehow turned into a snow-lover, even if there is only damp grass and a biting wind. Alexia wishes England had white Christmases, but it’s a myth, she has discovered.

The ring sits in her coat pocket. She chose it with Alba before she left the warmer climate of Barcelona, and her sister did not ask her whether she was rushing into things. It’s not too soon; if anything, she should’ve asked a year ago.

“Fuck me, it’s cold,” you groan as you shiver. She takes your hand, her woollen gloves itchy against your bare skin, but it warms you up. “We could be inside, in bed. There’s a new series we could start, or, I don’t know, don’t you have some football game to watch?”

“I hate watching football with you.”

You part your lips to respond, but she is not lying and she has said it before. Some bullshit about you supporting all the wrong teams.

“Well, I hate it when you drag me out into the freezing cold for no reason. If you want a dog to bring on walks, just say so. We can go to Battersea before you leave tomorrow.”

“Don’t,” she murmurs, halting you both near the inky water of the lake you have been circling for the past five minutes. It sucks that her visits are temporary, even if you are technically moved into each other’s homes (she has your keys, you have hers). With the remaining time left before her flight tomorrow at noon, she has worked up the courage to do it now.

It’s like scoring a goal: receive the pass; dribble; gear up for it; shoot.

“What’s wrong?”

Her free hand reaches into her pocket. “Nada.”

“No, you’re acting weird…” You blink a few times as if to adjust better to the dim light coming from the distant lampposts. A plop sounds from the water, and she jumps. She’s on edge.

“No.”

“Yes. Jesus, you haven’t decided to break up with me in the middle of a park at night, have you?” Your question packs an unnerved insecurity, and she feels a little guilty about the suspense. She fiddles with the ring in her pocket, and then she takes a deep breath. “Hey,” you try tenderly. “Seriously, Ale, what’s wrong?”

“Te lo dije. Nothing.”

“So what’s in your pocket?”

“Nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

She sighs, “here,” and she grabs your hand to press it into the soft warmth inside. And there’s a piece of metal, heated by her fingers. With a chunk of rock on top of it. It feels like an engagement ring. You’re probably not getting broken up with tonight.

“Are you proposing?”

“Are you saying yes?”

“Yes.”

“Hòstia.” She frowns, and you consider pushing her into the lake. “I am going to say it now.”

“But you already—”

A quick display of her athleticism, for the muscles exist despite being buried underneath all those layers, and she is down on one knee. Her joggers will have wet patches, and she hates the squelch of the mud beneath her, but she has a perfect view of your surprise. Your tears.

“Bueno. Your brother helped me to… write the speech,” she starts, and her rehearsal is adorable. Although, honestly, you don’t hear what she has to say because you have already made up your mind.

You tell her yes in as many languages as you can.

And she thanks you with breathy moans into your mouth as you guide her towards a bench, and then your flat, and finally your bed.

When you are finished, well into the early hours of the morning she will have to leave, you climb out of bed, missing the firm grip of her toned arms the minute you’re out of it. There is a burning, overwhelming sureness inside of you that you can’t escape. You know it is soon – probably too soon for most – but there is a person out there for everyone, and yours is right in your bed.

Your guitar, slightly dusty from the neglect because of your frequent visits to Barcelona, rumbles when you pluck it from its stand, collapsing into the armchair beside your bed with a groan, feeling the ache of your muscles that only affirm just how good a time you’ve had with your fiancée.

You don’t play anything interesting, but the noise is enough to rouse Alexia from her heavy slumber. She lifts her head from where it has been buried within the silk pillows of your bed, and watches as your fingers pluck the nylon strings with vague allusion to one of your older songs. The weight of her ring – your engagement ring – does not seem to affect your playing: in fact, Alexia realises your hand was naked without it. You hum, fingers beginning to itch for a cigarette the minute the guitar starts to bore you, and she clears her throat.

Her grin is self-satisfied and certain. “Me voy a casar contigo,” she says into the dark stillness of your bedroom.

“I love you,” you reply.

…

Being engaged is fun.

Like, really fun.

You stay in Barcelona in December, hiding from the bitter chill of England. No one questions it, and the absence of a manager grants you so much freedom. The girls pop to the city one weekend to brainstorm a song, but, other than that, you are content to forget your own identity and become Alexia’s fiancée, one of the regulars at the increasingly more popular Barça Femení games (only the team know you’re there, able to see through the caps and sunglasses).

There are still rumours circulating about you and him, though their credibility has lessened ever since he revealed himself to have been in LA for a while. To the world, you’re sort of MIA. They catch you occasionally when you return to London for photoshoots or just to chat with your friends and family, but they get nothing more. Your Instagram posts are few and far between, and the most recent paparazzi picture is of you leaving Gio’s house to buy her a pregnancy test.

When the test is positive, something is tweaked inside of you, and you return to Barcelona – a place that is now your home too – carrying a lead-ish guilt.

Alexia loves her football, and Alexia is obsessed with her career. You are too, but you have done what you can, really. The BRIT nominees will be announced tomorrow, and you know that you and the girls are on that list. You have your fame, you have your money. But Alexia has neither, and she should. Especially when her male counterparts are raised high and mighty on large, golden platforms.

You know just how ambitious she is, and that is why you lack surprise when you enter her flat to find her hunched over her iPad at the dining table, replaying the same twenty-second clip over and over until she has identified every single fault and created a plan to correct them.

She barely registers your presence, but you don’t mind how absorbed she is in her footage. It is nice to make the ever-composed Alexia jump when you slink up behind her, pressing your lips against her neck. She dissolves herself in the fuzzy feeling you give her.

“Hola,” she says, regaining control when she spots another mistake, grasping her pen tightly as she scribbles down Spanish words you can’t be bothered to read.

“Hola,” you reciprocate, though you are a lot more enthusiastic about it. “Tengo una pregunta.”

“Oh no.” You wrap your arms around her shoulders, and she relaxes. Your ring reflects the light from her screen as if to remind her that you are hers, and that softens her previous sternness slightly. Another kiss to the skin behind her ear, and she is more open to talk.

Clicking your tongue, you think of where to start. “Okay, first, I have news.”

“About Gio? Is she okay?”

“She’s… pregnant.” The emergency you were recalled to London for was actually a pleasant surprise for her and her boyfriend. You’re unsure about how committed they are to each other, and whether a baby is a great idea, but you held your tongue when Anya shook her head at you.

“Uf. Pobrecita, ¿no? She loves tequila.”

“She does love tequila,” you agree with a chuckle. You extend your hand slightly and press pause on the footage. Alexia pushes back against you. Her chair scrapes against the wooden floorboards, but there is a gap between her and the table now. She motions for you to sit in her lap.

She tilts your chin up and kisses you gently: a welcome home kiss. “¿Qué pasa, mi amor?”

“What would you do if I told you that I was pregnant tomorrow?”

“I would ask you if you have been cheating on me with a man,” she replies instantly. You laugh, head falling forwards, resting on her shoulder. She runs her hands up your sides, fingers firm, thighs tensing underneath you.

“But hypothetically. If it were possible,” you continue, a smirk working its way onto your lips, guilt forgotten. You may have spent your plane journey scrolling through pictures of Alexia with the various babies in your life. It was a self-indulgent act, and it has very much led you to now.

Her eyebrows furrow with the adorable crinkle in between them, and she is seriously trying to work out if she is missing something. You go to London, you come back, you want a baby?

But she loves you. And she is very intrigued.

“Is it mine?”

“Yes, it’s yours.”

She watches the smirk on your face blossom into a smile, and she feels a matching one tug her lips upwards. “Is it going to support España or England?” The latter is pronounced in your accent, and you make a mental note to ask Jenni if she has been doing impressions of you to her teammates.

“It can choose when it’s older,” you say, waving off her stupid football question. Since dating her, your interest in football has decreased. She has sort of put you off. You only really watch it to watch her now, or when United are playing an interesting game and your father is antsy enough to text you every minute.

“No, it can’t.” You blink. She pulls you into her. “It chooses now. Spain or England, and Manchester United or Barcelona. There are right answers.”

“Manches–”

“Wrong! I think I will have to make sure the baby is not brainwashed.”

You panic for a moment. “Wait, you do know I’m not really pregnant, right?!”

Alexia is not the most ready for children, but she is always prepared to give you everything you want. “If you want a baby, mi amor, let’s make a baby. Sin chicos.” You giggle coyly as she hoists you up – the display of strength exuding an unbearably sexy cockiness. “And after,” she says in between kisses as she stands, “we can look on the Internet for options.”

“¡Vamos!”

…

The Barcelona women’s team congas its way back into the Home team changing room of the Joan Gamper, following a 7-0 win. Alexia kicked off the goal-laden game in the sixth minute, and she is on cloud nine. Victory is the sweetest taste in her mouth, and one where she knows you are watching is even better.

Mapi flicks her shoulder as they dance to the music bursting from someone or other’s speaker. “You’re so happy,” she says, her grin wide and eyes shining. They dance topless, most of them, but Alexia has subtly been rushing to get dressed and find you. Barcelona is a beautiful city, and she has promised that you can take her to dinner somewhere now that your morning sickness has subsided and only started to affect you when it is supposed to.

“We just won,” she explains over the shouts of joy from her teammates.

María León joined from Atleti this season, but she has known Alexia longer than that, and she can tell when there is something more to football in her emotions. Though it is a well-kept secret, Alexia has two obsessions, and you are one of them.

“Yo sé. But you have been very happy recently, in general. Except, you don’t come out for team nights or hang back to practise more after training, so it is definitely to do with Y/n.” Alexia’s absence in her teammates’ lives is actually unusual, seeing as you are very encouraging and a firm believer in the ‘work hard, play hard’ mentality. Your urging is what sends Alexia to bars and clubs with the girls, though she has neglected all of these outings ever since you showed her your positive pregnancy test (best belated birthday present ever). “So… what’s going on?”

“You’re so nosy.”

“I’m interested. I love her, and I want to know how she has made it so that you haven’t had a bad day for the last three months, even when we lost to Bilbao. Is it sex? Does she suffer through–”

“No!” Alexia interjects, cheeks reddening. Mapi smirks at the twenty-four-year-old, proud to have embarrassed her. She still claims that she is not a prude. Her phone buzzes on the bench – you’re asking how long she is going to take.

Mapi swipes Alexia’s clean clothes from her grip, holding them behind her back as she giggles at her friend’s exasperation. “Tell me, or go outside like that.”

“Good thing it’s May,” Alexia shrugs, grabbing her phone and bag, knowing you won’t at all mind spending time with her in just her sports bra. She is pulled back by Mapi, who has hooked her finger into the waistband of Alexia’s shorts and yanked hard enough for them to have stretched.

“Ale, tell me.”

“No. You’re a gossip.”

“I’m not a gossip.”

“You so are.”

“Am not.”

“So it wasn’t you who told Leila about Patri’s crush when I made it clear that we weren’t even supposed to know?” Mapi shifts uncomfortably, letting go of the shorts. “And it definitely wasn’t you who let everyone find out about my engagement because you don’t know what an inside voice is?”

“Hey, you never specified that you were going to be sneaky about it!” she defends, as she has done ever since the entire canteen went silent in shock and then, two seconds later, broke out into a clamour of pleas to be bridesmaids and to get Bad Bunny invited to the wedding.

“It was implied,” Alexia shoots back with a glare.

“Fine. Be annoying. I’ll just ask Y/n.”

“She doesn’t want to talk to you. She’s got better things to do.”

“Ouch,” Leila says, patting Mapi on the back as she shoves her way into the conversation. The two are partners in crime, and Alexia hates that she is now outnumbered. “But tell us. Please, Ale.”

“We’ll even not nutmeg you for a week.” They love to try. It’s their highest priority mission.

“A month,” Alexia negotiates.

“Yes! Just tell us.”

“Y/n is pregnant.” Three months down the line is not necessarily when she wants to announce her personal business to the entirety of Spain, but you both know that it’s safe to tell people now.

Mapi laughs. “Ay, Alexia, you don’t have to lie to us.”

She looks at her friends blankly, having not expected this reaction. When she told her mother, the woman at least had it in her to take it seriously (albeit with quite the cautious ‘are you sure?’). “I’m not lying,” she then says, more to Leila than the giggling Mapi in front of her.

“You’re not…?” Leila tries, grappling with it. Two pairs of eyes drift down to Alexia’s crotch, squinting at the material as though some previously concealed appendage is going to jump out at them.

Alexia clears her throat.

“I’m sorry. How?!”

“The normal way most lesbians–”

“She’s, like, actually pregnant? Like, de verdad, she is pregnant?”

“Or she’s smuggling a lime under her shirt.” Her nod is small and she has the glimmer of a smile on her face despite Leila and Mapi’s gobsmacked expressions. Her phone buzzes: it’s you again. “And, if you two don’t mind, I don’t want to leave her waiting for me outside.”

“Because she’s…”

“Exactly.”

When she finally escapes the changing room, she climbs into her car. With heartbreak from both you and your dad, you have sold your i8 in favour of getting Alexia a Land Rover. Most of your money is in savings. You earn loads, but it is hard to find things you want to spend it on, and a lot of it goes towards private jets to get you to and from Alexia.

You are sitting in the passenger seat. “Jugaste bien,” you say as her hand moves up from its instinctive resting place on your thigh, settling on the growing swell of your stomach. “I’m so hungry. I could eat a horse.”

“A horse?”

“Or a house. Or, I don’t know, an entire cavalry. Feed me.” Her alarm — a mistranslation — causes her to almost run over the steward directing her out of the car park. “Tengo mucha hambre, Ale.” She nods with a roll of her eyes. She’s been warned about pregnant women.

…

In the bustling excitement of Estadi Johan Cruyff, which has slowly filled with more and more fans in the time you have known the plastic seats and improving pitch, you find yourself in the midst of an unexpected turn of events. With your due date approaching and Alexia’s insistence that you are surely made of glass, you have been forced to part from your sisters (Gio and Anya) and live in Barcelona. She wants the baby to be born here. You’ve negotiated that the next one will be had in London.

Alexia’s mother notices the deep breath you take in, well-acquainted with the horror on your face having worn that same expression twice before. ¿Estás bien?” she asks you, the steadiness of her voice comforting to the flurry inside your head.

The whistle blows and the game kicks off. This can’t be happening now.

It’s too early. There’s a… What are they called? Braxton-hicks?

“Sí,” you affirm with a curt nod. The not-contraction doesn’t hurt that much, you tell yourself. You settle in the seat and focus on the match in front of you, using the rhythm of the crowd’s cheers (it can now be called a crowd!) to keep you grounded. With a reassuring smile, Eli offers you her hand. You take it and try not to crush her metacarpals.

It’s definitely possible that you are in actual labour, considering the increasing intensity of your contractions, but you are not about to leave the match. Alexia would notice your absence. This game is important for her team – it’s the last before the Christmas break.

At halftime, Eli quietly reassesses you, tricking you into seeing the team’s medic when guiding you to the ‘toilet’. Already briefed on the situation, the medic asks you a few questions in accented English, much like that of your newly trilingual fiancée. “Don’t tell her,” you beg quietly through a huffed sigh, gladly taking the seat offered to you. “I’ll wait until it’s finished.”

“There is another hour left.”

Your ears burn and another contraction shoots through you. You shake your head, fending off the pain while you do so. “He can’t be a Barcelona fan,” you insist. Eli grins at the knowledge that her first grandchild will be a boy, but you do not see it, too focused on convincing the medic to keep the child’s other mother in the dark about what is currently happening in the Barcelona medical room. “I’ll wait.”

Eli hands you your phone per your request. You call Gio, whose daughter is only two months old. “Don’t tell me,” she starts when you fail to greet her. The sound of her voice, her accent, her tone is relieving, though you are incredibly grateful for the woman who continues to hold your hand as though you are her own daughter. “Nah, nah. Where are you? I’m gonna jump on a flight, alright? I’ll call Anya and we’ll be there soon.”

“Don’t… rush,” you groan.

“Babe, we are going to rush. Where are you?!”

“A match!” You try to remember the breathing exercises you learnt for this exact moment. “Her match. Second half’s only just started. She… She doesn’t know.”

Gio’s loud, boisterous laugh rings out, and you can tell that she is not at home. No one with a newborn baby can afford to make noise at that volume. “Fucking hell. Ever heard of sense?” You don’t respond, embarrassed that you are in too much pain to think of a comeback. “I’ve left Mia at my mum’s, so don’t you worry. Want me to bring anything from home? Cadbury’s, maybe?”

“One of those massive bars?”

“Yep, done deal.” She pauses. “Hey, babe, I’m gonna ring Anya now, alright? Call your mum – or your dad, if you two haven’t yet made up. I’ll see you soon. Tell Alexia her baby’s on the way!”

Your protests are cut off by the final beep of her hanging up, and your head drops back as another contraction, your body squeezed as though some giant rubber band has just snapped back into place. Eli stands up, worried now.

Before you can tell her that you are alright, a gush of water hits the sterile floor with an unnerving splatter. The prospect of having to care for another life suddenly becomes very real. “Tenemos que ir al hospital.”

“No.”

“Soy la abuela. Yo sé que hacer.” Even the medic, who has nervously stayed by your side, much more experienced with ACLs than broken waters (and stubborn pregnant women), looks intimidated by the firmness of Eli’s words. “Por favor”: she softens her blow.

You glance around the room, slowly descending into agony and helpless against the wrath of rationality from your fiancée’s mother. “How long’s left of the match? ¿Cuántos minutos quedan?”

The medic holds up all ten fingers. You grapple with your body, begging the baby to sit tight for a moment. “Let her finish. We can go when the whistle blows.”

Your contractions get closer together.

Eli’s frustration leads her to ask God for the baby to not have inherited your stubbornness. She also loves you more for it; admiring your insistence to keep Alexia from missing everything.

You don’t call your own mother. You simply type out a shaky text to the family group chat; blunt and to the point. ‘Baby. Now.’

Half of your universe storms the web, booking flights to Barcelona. Anya and Gio are almost at the airport already — a few steps ahead of your panicking parents and your brother, who has been enjoying dinner at the Savoy with his clients. Those who serve as your planets, revolving around you like you are the sun, do you a favour, letting Dave know that you probably won’t make it to the Skype call scheduled for tomorrow morning. Dave, in turn, now expanding into management, informs your newly-hired publicist (good riddance to the old one). The world has expected a pregnancy announcement ever since you failed to appear at your most recent awards show, despite winning in your category.

It's almost an eternity later that Alexia, football boots clacking against the floor, flings open the door of the medical room. Eli calls out, warning her daughter about slipping on the sizable puddle that has spread out beneath you.

Your fiancée is valiant in her attempt to mask her sheer panic.

“Have you called an ambulance?” she asks her mother, stepping over your amniotic fluid and placing her hand on your shoulder. You squint, trying to open your eyes though this contraction has been the most excruciating so far.

“We were waiting for you. She was adamant that you finished your match.”

“No football match is more important than her!” If you understood Catalan (and weren’t in labour), you’d have teased her for being a sap. “Call an ambulance, Jesus Christ. Look at her — she needs a doctor.” Her composure revisits her fleetingly, and she turns to the medic. “Thank you for looking after her.” There is no answer because it is drowned out by her barking more orders her mother’s way.

“No ambulance,” you declare before your mouth opens in a silent sob. “Drive me. Not an ambulance.”

The last glimpse the Estadi Johan Cruyff gets of Alexia Putellas in 2018 is her carrying you to her mother’s car, your face buried in her team-issued jacket in case anyone is waiting outside to take pictures of the players.

Eli drives; something she doesn’t like doing often but feels is necessary with the nervous bounce of her daughter’s legs in the backseat enough to convince her that they’d speed like the Flash if anyone else ended up behind the wheel. She knows Barcelona, can navigate it with her eyes closed, and you are at the hospital before you can begin to tell Alexia how much you think you can’t do this.

“I really fucking can’t do this!” you cry out, situated in the delivery room. Sweat rolls down the side of your face, already dampening your hair. Alexia thinks you look beautiful, and she has been made proud of the last two hours. You’ve also helped her a lot with English swearwords.

“You can.”

“I can’t.” You’re told to push again. “Alexia, you are having the… next… fucking… beach ball.” Each word is punctuated by a guttural moan.

Waves of intense pain contort your face in agony, and the midwife continues to talk you through your task as though instructing you how to park a car. “Estás haciendo muy bien, mi amor,” she tells you, ignoring the possibility that you may have rendered her left hand boneless.

“There’s a baby coming out of my vagina,” you shout, “don’t even try to test my Spanish, you twat.”

The midwife shoots your fiancée a pitiful look. “She’ll take it back,” she says in Catalan.

“She’s getting quite inventive.”

“There’s been worse.”

You can imagine the conversation taking place in the middle of you delivering her literal child. “No, I won’t! It’s breaking me in half.” You grip her hand harder. “Never. Again.”

But, with a final, visceral (and heavily encouraged) push, the room is filled with the sound of life. Nico comes into the world screaming at the top of his lungs. All Alexia can think to say is, “definitely yours.”

…

Life is a lot more tiring trying to juggle being a mother and a pop star.

The press have a field day when you announce the birth of your son with a simple Instagram post, your engagement ring second only to the swaddled lump on your chest. The caption (‘ours’) sparks debate on who exactly is the other parent. Well, father. Alexia’s teammates, while waiting to finally be allowed to meet your bundle, spend a good two months teasing her mercilessly about it. Most notably, Alexia almost loses La Reina to Papi.

2019 comes with change — a lot of it.

You hire a new manager so that Dave can focus fully on the last album 2sday will produce. The group has been together for six years, and you have made your millions.You seek neither money nor fame, but it comes knocking on the door of your quaint apartment in Barcelona anyway, along with a record deal only for you. A solo act.

Between Nico crying, Alexia playing football, and you trying to write songs that don’t end up criminally depressing, the contract on your dining table slowly becomes forgotten about. Alexia is too stressed about the impending World Cup to grant you a moment to breathe. You spend your days in Barcelona with a baby attached to your hip, the question of his parenthood still a mystery to the public, and, ever so slowly, you begin to resent your life.

It could be postpartum depression, but you have no time to really investigate the symptoms.

Alexia, two weeks before she needs to leave for her national camp and then the World Cup in France, comes home to an eerily silent apartment.

She calls out your name, wondering if you have perhaps gone to her mother’s house. The terrible sinking feeling comes with your reply. “Can we talk?” you ask.

She finds you perched on the Egyptian cotton sheets that cover your double bed. The sheets are out of place here, greatly exceeding the original budget of the decor, and, where Alexia sees this as you adding to her life, you feel you are somewhere you don’t belong. It is fine when she is next to you, holding your hand, claiming the other half of the now six-month-old baby boy gurgling in his carseat. When she isn’t there, though, the vacant space taunts you.

“I have no friends here,” you tell her quietly. The gravity of the mood settling over you pulls her onto the mattress, not caring if the sheen of sweat she wears as her outermost layer of clothing dirties the expensive creamy white beneath her. “I have no friends, I don’t speak the language, and I think that I have played at being a normal person for long enough. I mean, it’s great to watch you and to be there for you, but, darling, that’s not who I am. This,” you gesture to the loungewear you have on, stained with dribble, “is not who I am.”

Alexia hears what you are saying. She understands; she remembers the nights where you’d call her, a cigarette rasping your voice, sparkles shining in the valley between your breasts. She has seen this coming. It would be impossible not to notice the dimming of such a strong love between you: still present, yet slowly fading away.

“They want me to sign a new deal. Alone.” The suitcases lined up in the corner of the bedroom become glaringly obvious. Nico is in his carseat for a reason. “I think it would be good for me to go back to London. I need to feel like myself again, and my parents are willing to watch him. I sold my flat – I’ve bought a house in Highgate.” Tears sting your eyes as you speak, and you know where Alexia’s shoulder is without having to look, resting your head against it. “I love you. I love you so much, but I just can’t do this anymore.”

It’s as if the ground crumbles away beneath her. Your words hang above Alexia’s neck like an axe, waiting to execute her, waiting to end everything. She can’t look at Nico, whose face crumples at his mother’s clear heartbreak.

The world, once vibrant, lays in ruins. Her funny story from training dies on her tongue, and her question of whether you wanted to visit her mother before she left for camp disintegrates, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.

“Do you still want to marry me?” she asks, and you hate the way her voice cracks with uncertainty. “Are you moving permanently?”

“I haven’t called anything off. It’s still going ahead as planned.” She senses the but. “But I… I can’t think here. I can’t be here. I want – I need – to go home.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

She is going to be at the World Cup anyway. You and her will always find your way back to each other. She is going to be busy.

She is going to be busy.

“Yeah. It’s okay. Take all the time you need.”

She is going to fall apart without you.

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso #woso fanfics #barca femeni #fc barcelona

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