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moonchildstyles · 3 months ago

Text

fender

it's 1976, and harry is the biggest rockstar in the world and y/n never thought she would have the chance to meet her idol. especially not like this.

wordcount: 12k+

—————

(Y/N) swore she could feel every note from the blaring speakers in her veins, her bones rattling from the base. Her skin was heated, a sheen of sweat covering every exposed inch. Bodies were packed all around her, dancing and jumping, hands in the air just as hers were. The bar of the barricade pressed heavily against her stomach, holding her back with a cool punch through her clothing. She'd never been to a concert by herself before, but she was finding she didn't mind the fact she was on her own, her dancing much more inhibited with her voice beginning to crackle from the sheer pitch of the screams she was letting out.

Before her, up high on the stage with the bright lights cloaking his form, was her favorite rockstar.

Harry Styles.

In flared bell bottoms, and chest bare, he pranced across the stage, taking in every adoring eye trained on him. His trusted guitarist was shredding away on his neon orange Fender, taking care of the hard work so Harry could swagger about the stage with his microphone swinging in his hand. Sweat dripped down the blocks of his muscles, shimmering as if he had spread the glitter on his eyes over the rest of his body. His lips were curled in a lopsided smile, smug and cocky; he was more than aware of the fact that thousands had filled this arena just to see him.

Another upside to having made it to this show by herself, (Y/N) didn't feel all that silly when she screamed that much louder when he strided over to her side of the stage. Dimples dented the rockstar's cheeks as he took in the adoration being flung at him from all sides. He scanned through the crowd, taking in every set of sparkling eyes and no doubt spotting every beautiful face that was more than willing to do just about anything for him.

While this was the first time (Y/N) had the privilege of seeing Harry live (after having missed both his '73, and '75 tours, it seemed '76 was finally her year) it was no secret just how much love he liked to share with his fans. He never denied it in interviews and more than once photographs of women draped over him had come to light and landed on the front cover of tabloids, or anonymous sources sharing details of sordid nights in his bed. Whenever confronted with questions about those stories or who he was pictured with, he famously gave a dimpled smile and shrugged it of, saying something about how he fell in love easily and didn't shy away from the feeling.

She wondered what she saw when he looked out at the huddles of people looking up at him tonight—if he saw someone he could fall in love with for the night.

As the song continued on, it was time for his next verse though he didn't stray from this side of the stage. He brought the microphone to his lips, crooning his famous lyrics in perfect melody with the rest of his band. He put on a show where he stood as he sang a particularly suggestive line while trailing a hand down his bare stomach, hooking a finger into the waist of his pants to bring them down for a teasing peek of more skin before snapping back into place.

(Y/N) felt her breath catch in her lungs, immensely grateful for how close she'd made it to the stage. She wouldn't have been able to see the thatch of hair he revealed had she been any farther back. Screamed erupted around her, Harry seemingly liking the reaction so much he had to pull away from his microphone to let out a bubble of laughter. By the time he went back to doing his job, there was a particularly smug smile on his lips with matching dimples and amused eyes.

He continued to sing even as pairs of panties and lacy bras were thrown up to the stage, women screaming for his attention with their shirts pressed up to expose their chests. He weaved around the set up, playing with his bandmates to the excitement of his fans. He soaked it all in with exuberant confidence, shining under the stage lights and he put on his show. (Y/N) felt breathless as she sang along with him, her bones rattling as the pit danced around her, pushing her harder against the barricade at her stomach.

By the time the final lines of the song came around, he had made his way back to (Y/N)'s side of the stage. She and the fans around her danced and sang along, her voice scratching in the back of her throat as she gazed up at him. The tune ended in a flourish of drum beats, heavy and bone rattling through the arena.

Harry finished with phantom punches to the air in time with the drum beats just before the lights went down for a flickering moment. His chest was heaving by the time the lights came up once more, his band breaking to take sips of water, his guitarist changing out instruments for another, just as flashy, guitar. The spotlight was dead center on Harry, his eyes casting far out to the rest of the packed arena before him. (Y/N) went her mouth drop into a gape as she took in the man before her—no photograph able to do him justice.

"Everyone still doing good? Having fun?" his voice boomed through the speakers, gesticulating with his hands as if he could reach to the back stretches of the venue. The arena erupted once more, pitched screams calling for his attention. He let out a breathy laugh into the microphone. "I'd hope so," he crooned, "because I'm having a wonderful time. So many pretty faces—thank y'for coming to see me tonight."

He reveled under the cheers given to him, going quiet as he turned his gaze down, to the pit closest to him.

To where (Y/N) was standing right in front of him.

His eyes lingered over the rows behind her before coming closer, stopping a little too close for comfort.

(Y/N) didn't want to get too far ahead of herself, but was he looking at her?

"And what about right here?" he asked, bending down to one knee at the edge of the stage as if he wasn't close enough already, "Having fun?"

Those around her burst into screams, pressing behind her as if they could surge through her and get closer to the rockstar. Her vision was vignetted with all the reaching hands attempting to touch him, fingers outstretched. (Y/N)'s reaction was stuck in her chest, her body stunned into paralysis with sweaty hands tightening around the barricade bar.

His only acknowledgment of the rest of the world came in the form of a quirked lip while his eyes stayed fixed to one spot. The longer she blinked up at him, no reaction, his smile grew, a brow lifting.

Whatever view the rest of the venue was getting had another round of raucous reactions.

Finally mustering enough wherewithal, (Y/N) nodded her head, her mouth still in a small gape.

The quirk in his lips tilted that much more, a dimple settling in his cheek with a hint of the white of his teeth. "Yeah?"

Though inaudible compared to the ruckus around her, she nodded her head with a parroted, "Yeah."

His eyes lingered on her for a passing moment, the tip of his tongue peaking out to skim the blunt of his teeth. Around her, (Y/N) could feel the screams just as much as she heard them, the volume coasting over her skin and seeping through her pores.

"'M gonna make tonight the best night of your life, yeah?" he pressed, speaking directly to her though the world had their own view of the moment.

Another stunned wave touched (Y/N)'s bones, stuttering her lungs and knocking her breath askew. If she wasn't being delusional—something she couldn't be one hundred percent sure of—there was a chance Harry's eyes touched over the neckline of her top, following the line of her exposed skin.

She gave him a small nod.

He gave her another smile before rising to the full of his height once more, the stretch of his body on display. Waltzing over the stage, (Y/N) knew he was speaking, pointing out more in the crowd and doing what he did best by enchanting the masses and bending them to his will, though she didn't hear a word of it.

The trail of his gaze left behind a warmth like he had touched her with his own hands, enough pressure lingering on her skin even when another song started up.

Once the first verse of the song had played, (Y/N) felt her body come back to life slowly, the gravity of the moment beginning to turn into adrenaline. The man she had a hidden poster of had just made eye contact with her and told her he'd make her night special. Harry Styles had looked at her.

Thank god she showed up early tonight. This barricade was now holy ground as far as she was concerned.

Just as she began to sway along with the rest of the bodies around her, checking back into reality, the rockstar swaggered across the stage once more, taking his time to prowl before her.

He looked out in the crowd, reaching far back before trailing closer to where she stood just in front of him once more. He shuttered a single eye in a wink to her with a stanza of particularly suggestive lyrics dripping from his lips.

This time she couldn't help the scream that bellowed from her lungs, only spurred on by the grin on his face.

—————

"See? If you ask nicely, y'get what y'want, don't you?"

Harry's booming voice reawakened the arena. He was giving them the encore they had been begging him for once he exited the stage, the chants of his name being enough to have his band reenter with the rockstar himself following closely behind. (Y/N)'s heart thundered in her chest, cheers leaving her throat.

Mourning the end of the show could wait another ten minutes.

The opening notes of a new tune started, the shredding of the guitar screeching through the arena. (Y/N) couldn't take her eyes off of Harry as he pranced across the space, his jeans sitting low on his hips (at the right angle, she swore she saw a decidedly thick bulge at his crotch—more than just needing a readjustment).

(Y/N) only had a chance to hear the first few lines of the opening verse before a large man in all black came to block her view. If not for the fact she was currently—as promised—having the best night of her life, she would have thrown a fit. She instead attempted to crane her neck around this block and catch glimpses of Harry for the last few moments of the night.

"Sweetheart," he yelled against the bass coming from the speakers, "You're coming with me."

Blinking, (Y/N) forced her gaze to settle on this man. Just as she feared, he was looking right at her as he spoke.

Though she was largely unwilling to not pay attention to the concert of her life, she didn't think she had much of a choice in ignoring this man.

"Me?" she enunciated, pointing at herself if he wasn't able to hear her right.

"Yes, you," he said again, eyes trained on her, "Now. Before the end of the show."

Had she done something wrong? She couldn't imagine she was any more rowdy than the rest of the crowd (especially, as she still had all of her undergarments on and her nose clean), but she was the one being removed?

"Why?" she sputtered, anchoring to her spot.

The man's lips thinned, unimpressed with her pushback. "I've been asked to bring you backstage."

(Y/N) blanched at the new information. "By who?" she pressed, not entirely believing this moment.

The man sighed, his shoulders lifting. He caught her gaze, holding it as he jerked his head to gesture to the stage behind him.

Right where Harry Styles was prancing about, low slung jeans and all.

She blinked at him, flicking between his enlarged gaze to the rockstar at his back. "Really?"

"Yes," he insisted, "And I would like to take you now while we still have the space."

(Y/N) didn't immediately move, switching her eyes to Harry Styles, in all of his glistening glory. The curls on the top of his head were slick with sweat, but still managed to flop so handsomely over his features. His tattoos shuddered over his skin, animating with every belting note and roll of his body.

He had promised to make this the best night of her life, and she couldn't imagine any better way than to meet him backstage.

With the help of the man in black, she crossed the barricade with the eyes of those around her following closely behind. He led her carefully around the stage and through different equipment on quick feet, the music being left behind with the private backstage area before her.

Chancing a look over her shoulder, Harry, with his microphone cord coiled around his hand and sparkling eyes, winked at her once more.

—————

Sitting alone in what she figured was Harry's dressing room, (Y/N) could hear the final encore being played through the walls. While a part of her was itching to run back out, to catch those moments she had been looking forward to from the second she had bought her ticket, she was practically bolted to her spot.

All around her were small relics of the man out on that stage. An herbal candle sat with a pool of melted wax on the vanity table, anchoring down a blue cloth. Flecks of glitter seemed to stick to near every surface, leaving specks of light dotted across every surface, including the familiar container of makeup remover reflected in the mirror. A faded t-shirt was on the ground, next to a rumpled pair of athletic sweats. A bottle of cologne balanced on the edge, just a bump away from falling to the floor.

Her fingers fumbled in her lap, her heart puttering in her chest. She was backstage at a Harry Styles concert after being requested by the man himself. Knowing his discography well enough, every note that rocked through the walls acted like a ticking time clock, counting down to the moment she would no longer be alone in this dressing room.

Muffled through the arena, she heard the music crescendoing, heavy drumbeats and addicting guitar riffs ruffling the structure. Harry's voice played over the music, though it was clear he wasn't singing. Was he saying his goodbyes for the night?

The thought had her heart jumping into her throat, head going blank.

Should she stand up? Should she meet him up there? Would he like her outfit or was the cutout between her breasts too much? Oh god, what was she going to say?

Her pulse was kicked into overdrive when she heard a ruckus start up backstage, more voices piping up than she'd heard in the last ten minutes. Harry's voice had disappeared from the muffled tone he'd had on stage, making her pulse kick up that much more.

How close was he? Was anyone else going to come back here with him? Would he think her pants were stupid?

The long line of questions came to a halt the second the doorknob turned, the sound seemingly louder than the band playing the show out back on the stage. A muffled goodbye sounded on the other side before the first glimpse of the rockstar could be seen.

He was looking over his shoulder, speaking to someone she couldn't see around the broad strokes of his frame. His bare skin shimmered with sweat and glitter, animating his tattoos over the blocks of his muscles. The denim of his jeans were tight around his thighs though the waist still managed to fall some down his hips, showcasing a pair of leafy tattoos. He was saying something, a string of words that she missed completely over the roaring in her ears.

It felt like hours, watching him say his final goodbyes to whoever, before he finally turned around to face her.

Had her mouth already been dropped open, or was that just a side effect of seeing the green of his eyes up close?

"Hi," he smiled at her, moving towards his vanity table to retrieve the blue cloth held down under the candle, "How are you?"

Blinking, (Y/N) practically stumbled to her feet, her hands behind her back in a fumbling mess. "Hi. I'm good, thank you. How are you?"

A small smile touched his lips, "'M alright, thanks. 'M Harry."

It was (Y/N)'s turn to smile, a breath of laughter falling from her lips. "Oh, you're Harry! Got it," she attempted to joke, feeling one of the many strings tensing her shoulders being cut when he rewarded her with a bubbling laugh. "I'm (Y/N)."

"Nice to meet you, (Y/N)," he shared, a single curl flopping over his forehead as he ran the cloth over his face and down his neck, "'M happy y'made it back here—was worried y'weren't going to come after seeing y'talk to Paul."

"I was just a little confused," she explained, noting the way his eyes dropped to her lips as she spoke, "I couldn't believe you were actually asking for me."

"No?" he pressed, raising a brow with a quirk to his lips. He leant against the vanity counter, giving her all of his attention as if he wasn't shirtless with a sweaty chest staring at her. "And why is that, hm?"

Somehow, even without the amps and speakers booming throughout the venue, his voice held more impact in the quiet dressing room. The bass seemed heavier, his accent more drawling, the draw of his lips more alluring without a microphone in the way.

"Um," she started, blinking the stars out of her eyes, "Just... There was a lot going on out there—I didn't think you could even see me over the lights—or the bras."

Harry laughed, dimples popping into his cheeks with a light in his eyes. "Yeah, there was a lot out there tonight. Want anything before 's all cleaned up out there?"

He gestured out the door of his dressing room while (Y/N) shrugged. "Maybe. Was there anything pretty?"

The way he let his eyes drop heavily to her body, touching over the cutout on her top and the soft of her midriff exposed by the cropped fit almost made (Y/N) want to stumble back. When he dared to meet her eyes once more, he had a coy curl to his lips as if she hadn't been there as he dragged his eyes over her.

"I can think of a couple of things that might look pretty on you."

Despite the small laugh that puffed from her lips, her heart hammered in her chest. She hadn't wanted to get too far ahead of herself when she was first asked to meet him backstage, but it was hard to ignore the way he looked at her and still think this was nothing more than a friendly conversation.

"If there's anything you don't want, I'll take," she countered, hoping he couldn't hear the sound of her heartbeat with the way it was rushing through her ears.

The coy smile on his mouth turned into something more genuine then, amusement in his eyes. "Yeah? Y'saw anything y'think I need to take home?"

Even with the squeeze of her lungs, the nervous pit in her stomach, (Y/N) saw her own opportunity being dangled before her. She hoped she came off as nonchalant as she pictured as she shrugged, canting her head with a slight lick of her gaze down his chest. "I think you look good enough right now."

While there was still a lingering flush on his cheeks from the stage, the adrenaline clearly visible on his features, her words seemingly only fanned him hotter. The cloth he held was now dropped to the vanity, his empty hands coming to rest on the lip of the counter behind him. His arms flexed at his sides, veins popping out on his forearms.

"Good enough for what?" he pressed, a spark skittering through his eyes.

He hadn't shot her down. He was flirting back. Oh, god.

What would one of the women in the magazines say? How did they flirt with him so effortlessly to be invited for a fanciful—even if fleeting—night?

"You tell me," she countered, the only syllables that were able to squeak through her throat.

Dimples were deep in his cheeks by the time he turned around, collecting the bottle of makeup remover before pouring some on his cloth. He began wiping away the glitter as he found her eyes in the mirror.

"The band and I are going back to the hotel with a few friends—maybe party a little. Y'wanna come?"

Bubbling excitement like what she felt out on the arena floor reentered her stomach. A bright smile touched her features.

"I'd love to."

—————

"Pick your poison, darling."

(Y/N) didn't even know there were hotel rooms with fully stocked bars, but here was one right before her. A liquor tray behind the counter was decorated with plenty of bottles and decanters, more than half already missing gulps. Harry was acting as her bartender while the rest of the band and various guests were traipsing around the suite, the door to the hallway left wide open as they milled in and out. Music pumped through a set of stereo speakers, a member of Harry's band acting as DJ with various records and cassettes being switched in and out upon the players.

More than one familiar face swept through the suite, people she'd seen in the crowd of the arena tonight alongside those she'd met backstage. Some left the bathrooms with wide eyes and sniffling noses, others with hair bigger than when they had gone in and lipstick askew with a partner behind them. It was nowhere near the kind of party she had pictured when following after Harry, but she'd never been around rockstars before either.

Flitting her gaze over the various bottles surrounding Harry, (Y/N) canted her head. "Anything sweet."

Harry hummed, a slight quirk to his lips as he started fiddling about the different bottles. "Should've guessed, hm?"

"Why do you say that?"

Leaning on the bar, arms folded underneath her chest with her breasts pushed up, (Y/N) watched with her eyes lingering on his hands. All of his stage adornments, including his rings, had been left behind when he changed into something decidedly less ostentatious for this party, leaving the length of his fingers bare for her eyes to feast upon.

"Jus' had a feeling," he smiled at her, his eye falling into a wink.

(Y/N) watched with the same rapt attention she had given him on stage as he mixed her drink. He pulled bottles of clear liquor together with various juices, working in smooth movements as a brightly colored cocktail came together. Everything he did came off as fluid and practiced, the same kind of ease he offered to the stage with every note he belted and swagger of his hips.

"We jus' got here," Harry murmured, knocking her attention from his hands to his amused gaze, "Y'can't keep looking at me like that unless you're ready for our night to end."

Her breath caught in her throat. He'd told her earlier that this entire floor had been booked out for him and his band, but his room was at the very end. The biggest suite, he'd said—with a terrace and everything.

Would it be so bad to find out what his room looked like so early?

Attempting her best nonchalant facade, (Y/N) shrugged, a coy smile on her face. It was enough to make Harry laugh.

She could see him open his mouth to say something only to be cut off by a shout of his name from across the room. He whipped to face the call, the baby curls drying on the back of his neck giving a bounce at the motion. (Y/N) turned to follow his line of sight, seeing a semi-familiar face she had passed when backstage heading towards them with a beaming smile.

"I didn't know you were here! Took you forever to clean up, I thought you were spending the night at the venue," the man joked, pushing long dreads over his shoulder. His dark eyes danced over to (Y/N) for a fleeting second, his grin widening. "Is this your friend Mitch was telling me about?"

Rounding the bar with a fluorescent drink in his hand, Harry handed off the glass to (Y/N) (no ice, the crystal warm from his hand) before slinging his arm over her shoulder. She felt a shiver touch the bottom of her spine, though she used all of her effort to keep it pinned down.

Harry shrugged her closer to him, the side of her breast pushing against him through the thin material of her top. "Yeah, this is (Y/N). Met at the show—saw her pretty face right in the front row."

Harry's friend looked at her with raised brows, amusement laced in his eyes as he followed the length of Harry's arm around her shoulders. "Yeah? Liked the show?"

(Y/N) eagerly nodded, Harry's hold slipping from around her shoulders to be readjusted around her waist with a flex. She could feel his eyes on her face as he awaited her answer. "Loved it," she chirped, smiling with a cant to her head, "I've never seen him live before, so tonight was really amazing. I feel really lucky."

Maybe she was laying it on thick—she already made it backstage with his arm around her waist, she didn't have to catch his attention anymore—,but she liked seeing the dimples denting into his cheeks as he listened to her.

"I didn't know tonight was your first time," he mumbled to her, voice low as if they didn't have another person standing just in front of them, watching on with amused eyes.

"I'd feel lucky too if I were you," the man continued, his voice lilting in a tease, "Most of Harry's friends never make it past the dressing room."

"Alright, Jay," Harry cut in, voice louder than a moment before as he suddenly steered them towards the end of the conversation, "I'll see y'later. Thanks."

Jay only laughed it off, seemingly having achieved the reaction he wanted from Harry. (Y/N) didn't let herself linger on the motion of Harry's other friends—she knew she wasn't first and would most likely not be the last. Some of her wildest dreams had been reached just by meeting him, she could be happy with whatever she was granted tonight. Even if it was just that: one night.

"Sorry," Harry murmured, saving face as he guided (Y/N) away from Jay and towards the sitting area where most of the musicians were huddled together with drinks and records splayed across the coffee table. She ignored the faint lines of white scattered over the recognizable covers. "He likes to get on m'nerves, I think."

"It's alright," (Y/N) reassured, watching as Harry sunk into the one cushion left on the couch, "I thought it was funny."

Harry raised a brow at her, a sly smile on his lips, "'M sure y'did. C'mere darling."

He gestured her to his lap, opening his arms for her to plant herself on his thighs. Looking at him with his eyes trained upwards at her, sparkling and a bit lazy after putting on an energetic show, (Y/N) felt her skin warm. She had to make a point to see from tripping all over herself to take up his invitation.

There were eyes all around that watched as she took her spot on Harry's spread thighs, taking note of his arm wrapping around her middle to keep her steady. She had her own eyes down looking at her pretty drink as she hid the smile on her face. The cropped cut of her top allowed his palms to press against the bare skin of her waist, calluses roughening his touch from his years of playing different guitars. She was sure he could feel the line of goosebumps that rose in the wake of his touch, including the circuit his thumb started up around the waistline of her pants.

(Y/N) brought her head up when she heard the call of Harry's name from one of the many sitting around the coffee table. The guitarist—Mitch—had his head tilted, looking at Harry with a sly smile on his face.

"Mitchell?" Harry drawled, a teasing lilt to his voice as he pulsed a hand on (Y/N)'s waist.

"Are you going to introduce any of us to your friend?"

While Mitch and others in the circle didn't look particularly surprised to see someone on Harry's arm, it appeared Jay wasn't kidding with his comment about a rare few of Harry's friends making it past the dressing room.

"This is (Y/N), everyone," Harry relented, his voice low despite the music blasting just behind them. Nonetheless, everyone gave him rapt attention as if he had a microphone in his hand. "(Y/N), this is everyone."

"Hi, everyone," (Y/N) smiled, hoping she came off funnier than she sounded to herself, "Nice to meet you."

She could feel Harry laugh, his chest puffing from behind her. She took another sip of her drink, hiding her proud smile.

Conversation bubbled up then, some words slurred and slow while others were rambling at a rapid pace. (Y/N) sipped her drink as she took in the environment, listening in as if she were watching a movie. Harry's rumbling voice was an anchor at her back, his hand on her thigh keeping her attention as she tuned into his voice.

Behind her, he and Mitch were talking about the new customer Fender that was being made in Harry's honor. Perfect for the next album, she'd heard, the information brightening up her face.

"What are y'smiling about, hm? Something funny?" Harry's lips brushed the back of her ear, his voice drifting down the column of her neck. As he spoke he shifted his hand up to land on her waist, giving the curve a tickling squeeze. She jumped in his lap, holding her drink tight to her chest as she let out a gasping laugh.

"No," she smiled, turning to face him as he gazed up at her, "Just... New music? Already?"

"'M always working on something," he murmured, keeping his voice quiet as if conspiring with her on sensitive secrets.

Curling in his chest, (Y/N) could still hear the rivers of conversations flowing around them, eyes that landed on her as she cuddled up to a rockstar, but she kept her eyes on him. "Really? But you're on tour."

He shrugged around her. "There's always something to write about," he told her, eyes dragging down her face until he landed on her lips, "Something worth making a song about."

Her skin heated, feeling his gaze as if he touched her with his calloused fingers. Feeling his attention so heavily was like finishing her drink and standing on a rooftop over the city: exhilarating. How had anyone before her survived these kinds of moments—been bold enough to sit through them without taking down every second and memorializing it?

She wasn't sure what he saw in her face, but whatever it was had the corner of his lips turning upwards. A smug smile molded his features.

"What did I say about looking at me like that?" he murmured, his words teasing though the grip on her hip was far from.

Canting her head, she matched his gaze, his grip on her keeping her grounded. "I thought you liked it."

In that moment, his eyes seemingly darkened, pupil dilating. If not for the rest of the noise around them—the music and loud conversation—she wondered what his instincts would have urged him to do.

"I do," he crooned, shifting under her with his hand still on her hip.

The way he moved underneath her had her position adjusted on his lap, pushing the curve of her ass right against the middle of his thighs. A hard ridge pressed against her. Emphasizing his point exactly.

"Oh," she sighed, feeling breathless as if she were still flush against the barricade with an illuminated rockstar before her. It was that memory of him swaggering about the stage, picking her face out and singing the songs she'd listened to like gospel, that had a burst of confidence in her chest. That rockstar had picked her.

Keeping her eyes on his, she whispered, "Can I hear some of the new music? In your suite?"

She didn't have to elaborate any further, Harry catching on to the undercurrent to her words. A single dimple touched his cheek, his hand pulsing around her hip. "Let's go."

(Y/N) stood first off of his lap with Harry following after, reaching to take her hand in his.

"Leaving already?" Mitch piped up, his eyes dancing with amusement as Harry turned to face him.

"Gonna show her some of the stuff we've been working on," Harry drawled, nonchalant as he began inching towards the door, "Back in m'room."

"Coming back?"

Harry glanced at (Y/N) then, a silent communication that had her sheepishly smiling. "Probably not."

"Right," Mitch said, brows bouncing over his eyes, "See you in the morning."

Without much ceremony, Harry made their getaway for the night, leading her out into the hall. Stragglers were stationed around the ajar door, some with a lingering powder under their nose, others with hair messed up more than what (Y/N) was sure was intentional, matching the smudged makeup. Harry only gave them an acknowledging nod before heading down the corridor with her in tow.

It was a short walk to the door, though (Y/N) hoped to be able to recall every step down the hall, every beat of her heart against her ribs in the morning.

"After you," he crooned, opening the door with a flourish as he stood to the side.

She gave him a smiling nod as she crossed the threshold. The press of his gaze could be felt on her backside.

Flicking the lights on, a true suite was presented to her. She could only see the bedroom through a cracked door. The main living area, though much more put together compared to the room they'd just left, it was still clear a rockstar was crashing there. Random clothing was strewn about the space, open suitcases full of stage clothing as well as casual pieces. A heavy boombox with an array of tapes scattered around it was placed atop the television.

It wasn't nearly as bad as she had thought it would be, given the rumors of what rock stars got up to in hotel rooms, but she figured that was what the extra rooms were for. It wasn't much fun sleeping in a mess, especially when on stage every night with little sleep to boot.

"Didn't have time to clean up today, sorry," Harry said, closing the door behind them.

(Y/N) smiled over her shoulder at him, setting her cocktail on the counter of the kitchenette as she walked deeper into the suite. "Too busy?"

Dimples in his cheeks, he walked slowly as he followed her in. "A little bit."

Stepping around the mess, she found herself by the sound system, rifling through the cassettes he had around it. The plastic casing gleamed in the light, more than a handful scattered on the television stand. A few familiar, newer albums stood out.

Bowie, Station to Station. Queen, Day at the Races. Ramones' debut. Elton John, Blue Moves.

One empty case was beside the player, the cover flipped open with the tape missing. Flicking it back, the cover of ABBA's Arrival shone.

"ABBA?"

Behind her, Harry slipped an arm around her waist, looking over her shoulder. "What? Y'don't like disco?"

"I do," she laughed, turning around to face him, "Just didn't picture you as a dancing queen, that's all. You look a little bit older than seventeen."

Harry clasped his hands behind her back, his fingers pressing into the bare skin presented through the crop of her shirt. His features were softened as he matched her gaze, eyes hooded and heavy. "Does that disqualify me?"

"Probably." She wasn't sure when they started whispering, when his fingertips on her back began to creep under the hem of her top, but she melted into his touch with her own hands settling on his chest.

"Still like me?"

It should have been annoying to hear him speak this way. It wasn't hard to detect the cockiness—near arrogance—in his voice; he knew the answer before he'd even posed the question. It should have turned her off and had her taking her leave.

But, it only had the opposite effect. His confidence was a warmth hitting her stomach.

With him so close, their bodies flush, she didn't have to try very hard when she shifted her hips to feel the bulge in his pants pressing to the small of her stomach.

"Yeah," she answered simply, voice suddenly breathless.

Just as she expected, a smug smile had his lips curling. His hooded gaze traveled around her features, the tip of his tongue skimming the corner of his mouth.

"How much?"

This was the moment, she decided. There was no way she was in a rockstar's hotel room, after being plucked from the crowd at his request, feet away from his bedroom, and not going to take the opportunity that was being offered on a silver platter.

"I can show you."

That had to have been what he wanted to hear, given the fact he surged forward and sealed his lips to hers.

Unsurprisingly (not that she'd thought about it, or anything), his lips were soft, molding to the shape of her own glossed pair. He slotted his mouth to fit her top lip between the pillows of his two, the tip of his tongue slicking the seam. The smoky taste of the whisky he'd drunk back in the other suite lingered on his tongue, mixing with the sweet liquor of her own sips.

His hands on her back flattened out, leaving on her bare skin between the waist of her pants and the cropped hem of her top, with the other slipping underneath. His palm was aligned with the knobs of her spine, spanning between her shoulder blades under the thin material of her top.

Tilting his head, he deepened the kiss as he pulled her closer. The soft sound of their lips parting and meeting once more filled his hotel room, slick and messy. His tongue snaked out, sampling a taste of her own when she opened her mouth just enough for him. (Y/N)'s chest shuddered.

She was kissing Harry fucking Styles.

She hadn't kept a diary in years, but she was going to have to crack open a new one just to write out every detail of this moment. (Though, she might leave out the bit about how ABBA's Dancing Queen got them there).

"What are y'smiling about?"

"Hm?" (Y/N) hummed, hands traveling up his chest to follow the broad stretch of his shoulders.

He pulled away, keeping his body close to hers as he gazed down at her. His lips were glossed with their shared spit, his pupils blown. "You're smiling. What's funny, hm?"

His hand under her top shifted until he had his palm over her side, lining up with the ladder of her ribs. Goosebumps touched over her heated skin.

"Nothing," she murmured, her own hands moving until she had his cheeks cupped in her palms. "Just... This is crazy."

His eyes practically sparkled with the way she breathlessly spoke. Leaning close, he nudged his nose against hers, eyes slitted. "Yeah?"

Gone was the smile on her face as she listened to the same voice that had soundtracked her life for the last handful of years. All while he looked at her with kiss-swollen lips and hooded eyes, his hard cock pressing through the material of his pants.

"Yeah," she parroted, breathy with the word sweeping over his lips.

It was his turn to smile, surging forward to smear his lips against hers. It was a lingering press, just a bit clumsy with the way his nose knocked hers. She was expecting him to tip his head and deepen the kiss once more, only for him to pull away.

"I think I promised some new music, right, love?"

Blinking up at him through her lashes, in a second she was transported back to the other suite, where she had conjured up the story of sneaking to his room to hear new tracks. That felt like hours ago—like she had been a different person back then. Someone who had never kissed Harry Styles before, at least.

"Right," she smiled, playing along with the game he was proposing, "In your bedroom?"

A smile grew on his lips. "Of course. Where else?"

She let out a breathy laugh as she followed after him, hands twined together as they left behind the cassettes and strewn clothing for his darkened bedroom. Different from the rest of the suite, only lamps are left to light the room. Only a single standing lamp beside the rumpled bed was flicked on, leaving a small wash of light sitting on the messy sheets and the bedside table on the opposing side. The space holding a smokey sweet scent, matching the fragrance of his skin. A mess of unlabelled cassettes occupied the bedside table, with another more compact player off to the side.

Shooting her a lopsided smile, Harry led her to the side table. His hand still in hers, he rifled through the tapes with his free hand.

"What do y'want to listen to first?"

The blank bricks held no indication of what could be on them other than a silver sharpie marking them as demos with different numbers.

"This is your new music?" she murmured, eyes widening when she realized what she was looking at.

"Mhm," he hummed, the weight of his eyes hitting the line of her profile, "Wanna hear m'favorites?"

Looking at him through the fan of her lashes, she gave him a nod, pretending as if she wasn't as excited as she really was. She figured being giddy over a couple of tapes wasn't exactly a sexy look.

Deft fingers pulled out a tape marked as Demo #4 before setting it into the player. Through the speakers, the sound was crackly and quiet compared to the records of his voice she had in her bedroom. The guitar started first, the chords wavy and psychedelic, the guitarist letting the notes linger as if they were melting through the speakers.

Just as a familiar voice sounded over the notes, Harry pulled her flush to his chest with the help of the grip on her hand. His free hand cupped her cheek, his lips meeting hers in a clumsy mess. He fit her bottom lip between his two, immediately touching the tip of his tongue to the full center of her lip. (Y/N) didn't have to think before she had her mouth parted, letting him in once more.

Letting go of his hand, she curled her fingers into the material of his shirt, clinging to him. She hadn't been aware her nails could be felt through the thin fabric until a shuddering breath rocked his chest.

Walking her the short steps backwards, Harry blindly guided her to the edge of the bed. Her knees gave way to the mattress before she fell backwards, Harry following after with his hips fit between her thighs.

The chains of his necklace dangled over the base of her throat, a cool point of clarity against the rising warmth of her skin. His hands skated down her sides, grazing the bare skin presented from the cut of her top. Her hips fit against his like a puzzle piece, cradling as he pushed against her core with lingering rocks.

While his hands roamed over her form with their lips locked, (Y/N) took advantage of her position under him and locked a leg over his hip. Reaching up, she racked her fingers through his hair. The curls threaded around her fingers, a low rumble coming from his throat when she pulled just enough at the roots.

The bass of his moan came just as there was a peak to his voice playing through the cassette player. (Y/N) was reminded she was making out with a rockstar to his own unreleased music. Her hips rocked upwards at the thought.

Harry began to kiss down her chin, over her neck, and to the shelf of her collarbones while he fit the lengths of his fingers under the material of her top. Her bare skin sang for him, blood rushing through her veins.

His lips travelled down until he hit the neckline of her shirt. "Can I take this off?" he murmured into her skin, the words sinking into her pores.

"Uh-huh," she nodded, goosebumps rising when the tip of his nose brushed her neck. "Please."

She could feel the way he smiled at her response, the curl pressed into her skin before he bit at the line of her collarbone. Her grip in his hair tightened at the short sting, her leg curling that much more around his hip.

As promised, Harry, with his hands underneath her shirt, helped slide it over her head. Reluctantly, she pulled her hands from his hair and raised up from the bed long enough for him to slip it off her form and for the garment to become another piece of clothing puddled on the floor.

Without a bra, her breasts were exposed to the buttery light of the lamp. Her nipples peaked in the cool air, her chest rising and falling with each breath she pulled in. Harry didn't wait before he lowered his face to her breasts, smearing his lips over the swells. He scraped his teeth along the plush skin, leaving tender marks in his wake. Her hands once again found his hair, burying her fingers among the strands.

After a particularly harsh bite, she pulled his hair harshly. She could feel the sly smile that touched at his lips.

"Feeling good, baby? Like it when I bite you?"

She gave a clumsy nod of her head, mouth opened in a soundless nod. With her hands in his hair, she pulled him to her nipple, wanting the sting of his bite on the tender bud.

He didn't immediately give in, only pecking a soft kiss to the peak before looking up at her through the frame of his lashes. "Want me rough? Like it like that?"

Mindlessly nodding, she keened at the rumbling of his voice. "I like it rough," she bubbled, speaking over the unedited melodies of his voice.

Instead of responding, Harry gave her what she wanted, his teeth scraping over her nipple. With her hands still in his hair, she gripped the strands at the roots, her back bowing into his lips. Her lips parted with a breathy moan.

Harry took care of her, his mouth skating over her breasts. His teeth left tender spots—some she almost wanted to leave bruises—with his tongue following in the way, soothing the marks. Her stomach tightened with every wet press of his mouth, his hands sliding down to her hips. He played with the waist of her bottoms, his kiss following slowly after as he trailed down the soft of her stomach. The tip of his nose skimmed her skin, a tickling feeling rising in her chest that had a burst of laughter bubbling out.

With his lips still attached to her, he peered up at her through his lashes. A slow smile stretched his lips, the curl pressing into her skin.

"You're always laughing, baby," he murmured, "What is it this time, hm?"

"Tickles," she laughed, the melody floating over the next track playing off of Demo #4.

A plume of his own rumbling laughter grazed her stomach, goosebumps raising on her skin. Cushioned by the messy, tobacco scented sheets, (Y/N) watched with laughter edging on her lips as he nuzzled into her stomach. He made a show of hitting the waist of her pants with his fingers hooked into the band.

From between her thighs, he looked up at her with hooded eyes. "Gonna take these off, baby. 'S that alright?"

"Uh-huh," she nodded. With his hair out of reach of her hands, she propped herself up on her elbows to watch as he worked, fingers curling into the sheets.

With deft hands, Harry made quick work of the garment. It didn't take long before her pants and boots were on the ground beside her discarded top, leaving (Y/N) in nothing more than a pair of string panties.

(It was done as a joke almost, when she was getting ready, to pick panties as if she was going to be showing off for someone after the show. She'd never been more grateful for that delusional choice).

Harry was still fully clothed as he took his place once more between her legs, laying the broad of his body flush to hers. Her breasts were pressed into the solid blocks of muscle of his chest, only the thin material of his top separating her skin from his. He sealed his lips to hers once more, getting a taste of her tongue against his in broad strokes.

It was her turn to start stripping him, keeping her mouth to his as she plucked at the neckline of his shirt.

He pulled away with a breath, lips spit-slicked and kiss-swollen. He looked all too satisfied with himself as he gazed down at her, pulling off his shirt. Throwing it somewhere in the room, (Y/N) didn't have a chance to catch the landing before he was crowding around her once more.

"Trying to get me naked?" he murmured, a teasing thread through his tone, "Think 'm that easy, love?"

"I'm hoping," she smiled, pecking a messy kiss to the corner of his mouth. She could taste the smear of her lipstick on his skin.

Chasing after her mouth, he trailed his lips over her cheek, following the line of her cheekbone. Whispering to her, lips brushing her ear, he said, "Y'want me, baby? Tell me."

Between the press of his covered cock against her pussy, the rumble of his voice through her chest and against the shell of his ear, her eyes fluttered to a close. Her mouth was dropped in a gape, her breathing stilted.

"I want you," she said, suddenly breathless, "I-I've thought about this before."

She could hear the smirk in his voice. "Yeah? What've y'thought about, baby?"

"Yeah," she repeated dazedly, sucking in a harsh gasp when ground down hard between her legs. "I—um—I wondered if all the stories were true. If-if you are really like how everyone says."

"Is that why y'dressed like this tonight? Hoping you'd find out for yourself?"

She didn't want to melt over how cocky he was, how sure of himself over assuming she had dressed with him in mind. But, he was right—she wanted him to at least see her, remember her if she was lucky enough. Only in her wildest dreams did she imagine her cutout crop top and tight pants would land her here.

With her eyes still closed, she nodded her head. "I wanted to know if your songs were true."

"Which ones?"

"The ones," she stalled when she felt his hand slip between their bodies, tickling over soft curves of her body until he reached the apex of her thighs. "Um—the ones about... You sing a lot about eating pussy."

His laugh was warm, bubbling over her. "I do, don't I?"

"Almost two albums worth," she teased, a lighthearted tone running under her words before she was cut off.

Between her legs, he made no ceremony of the way he pulled her panties to the side and dragged his fingers through her folds. It wasn't until he split her open that she realized just how wet she'd become. Slick noises from between her legs filled the bedrooms, two of Harry's fingers slipping through her slit in long strokes, prodding at her weeping hole and nudging her clit, in a smooth circuit.

"What did y'think about when you'd hear those songs?" Harry asked as if she had any mind left to comprehend anything but his touch.

Squeezing her eyes shut when he circled her clit in a teasing touch, she dug her nails into the strapping muscles of his biceps. Under her hands she could feel the way the hand between her legs had his arm flexing with every movement.

"Huh?"

Through a smile he pressed a messy kiss to the space before her ear. "What did y'think about when y'had your fingers in your pussy?"

The blunt wording had her insides tightening, a squeeze she was sure he could feel as he brushed over her opening.

"How did I fuck you in your pretty head, hm? Tell me, baby."

Her mouth had a mind of its own as she started blabbering off without a thought. "Hard—You'd fuck me hard. I-I'd let you do anything to me, daddy."

His hand between her legs lagged, lingering close to her clit but not close enough. "What was that?"

"What?" she mumbled, turning her head in hopes of catching him in a kiss.

Harry pulled away, just out of reach though he kept his hooded eyes on hers. "What did y'jus' say?"

Blinking at his question, she attempted to cast her mind back enough to catch any memory of what she said. It dawned on her slowly, the kind of word she let slip from her imagination and into the real world.

"Um," she floundered, skin flushing in a different way than just a heartbeat before.

His smile grew, lopsided and entertained over her tied tongue. Leaning over her, he nudged his nose against hers, the full of his lips just barely brushing over hers.

"Y'called me daddy."

(Y/N) didn't say anything in response. Her hands tightened around his biceps.

"Say it again, baby."

Her mouth dropped into a gape. He wanted her to say it again?

"What?"

"Say it again," he murmured, his voice melding with the crackly tape soundtracking this moment, "'S alright—I know y'want to."

How was she supposed to say no to that?

Hyperaware of the way her voice wrapped around the word, she hoped it would be just as intriguing to him this second time.

"Daddy."

A rumbling moan left his chest just before he dove down, slotting his lips against hers in a messy kiss. Between her legs, he didn't hesitate before he slipped his fingers inside. The length of the digits were fit snug inside, opening her up as he gave a few cursory thrusts through. She could barely even kiss him back, her face screwing up in pleasure at the jolting touch with her lips parting. Harry slipped his tongue inside, licking over her own as he stroked his fingers through her pulsing walls.

Her breathing completely stalled when he curled his fingers, the calloused pads pressing into the spongy spot hidden among her walls. There were only a few times when she'd had the patience to find the spot herself, her memories of the sensation paling in comparison to what was happening to her now. Instinctively, she wanted to close her thighs, keep his hand from moving anywhere away from her. Harry's free hand came down and cupped the soft inside of her thigh, and splayed her legs open wide for him.

"Again," he ordered, the command falling on her tongue.

It didn't take a single thought before she was falling to his instruction. "Daddy—fuck."

"Feel good, baby?" he crooned, breathy and heated against her mouth.

"Uh-huh, uh-huh," she whined.

"I bet it does," he teased, "Can barely keep still for me, huh? For daddy?"

Her stomach wound itself tight at the sound of his accent, the same voice she'd listened to through her headphones and the crackles of her record player, wrapped around the title. This was what her fantasies were made of.

"Liked that?" he drawled, a sly smile working onto her lips, "Could feel how much y'liked that. Is this what y'thought about when you'd fuck yourself, baby?"

Rocking her hips up into his hand, he never lagged on circling the spongy wall inside her, only breaking when he opted to thrust deep inside to keep her on edge. His palm was pressed headily against her clit, the heel smeared heavily over it with every lingering stroke through her insides.

"Al-always you," she breathlessly admitted, "Always wanted you there with me."

"I know, baby. Y'need me, huh?"

"Yes, daddy," she panted, eyes rolling to the back of her head.

Dropping his forehead to rest on the apple of her cheek, she felt Harry's own heavy breaths sweeping over her heated skin. "You're gonna come for me, baby. I want y'to come on m'fingers, then 'm gonna fuck you like y'want."

He didn't give her any room to respond as he kept his palm heavy on her clit and drilled the pads of his fingers to the sensitive spot inside her. He didn't relent, her senses becoming overwhelmed with nothing but him. Even the sheets smelled of him, there was nowhere she could turn without finding more of him to pull in.

Her toes curled as she allowed herself to sink into the pleasure brewing in her stomach, her nails digging into the flesh of his biceps. She could feel her insides tightening, ribboning together in a contracting bow. (Y/N) wasn't even sure if her lungs were working around the pounding of her heart, her breathing shallow.

Suddenly, the pleasure she was feeling and floating in was too much. Her muscles were bunched almost too tight, snug around his fingers and sucking him in as if there were more to be taken.

Letting go of his arm, she reached for his wrist for an anchor. "I—Wa—Harry, I—"

"I know, baby, I know," he breathed, shifting until he caught her swollen lips in a kiss, "You're gonna squirt f'me, yeah? Make a mess with me."

"I—I've never—I can't—"

"You can. You can and you will, baby. Squirt for daddy."

The culmination of the way he talked to her—the rockstar she'd admired for years—the weight of his body pinning her to the mattress, the sound of his unreleased music filtering through the heated room, and every stroke of his fingers through her pulsing walls had her giving way to his command.

(Y/N) swore every bit of her body bunched, her hand tight around the bones of his wrist, toes curls, and eyes squeezed shut. Harry never relented, working her through the heaviest weight in her stomach. In a heartbeat, everything her body was squeezing, holding inside herself, let go.

A gush came from between her legs, rushing out around the plug of his fingers in her pussy. Every shallow motion of his hand against her went from slick to completely wet sounding, every beat of his fingers coaxing another rush of cum from her.

With her mouth dropped in a wordless gape, (Y/N) felt Harry's eyes on her with the way her skin buzzed, hyperaware. Her mind was cast elsewhere, miles away with her body anchored right where she was underneath him. She wasn't sure when she would come back—if she even wanted to with the way the feeling washed over each of her nerve endings.

"Look at that," he murmured in awe, his voice finally sounding like more than a rumble through the rushing heartbeat in her ears. "Jus' like I asked. So good, baby. So good f'me."

The descent was slow, the aftershock of her orgasm lingering in her bones until it finally relented enough for her to crack her eyes open. Harry looked down at her, satisfied with dark eyes trained on her features. With a jolting touch to her clit, he pulled his hand out from her pulsing walls, leaving her swollen and sensitive between her thighs.

She could feel the inside of her thighs slick with her release, Harry's hand that landed on her hip just as sticky. Dipping his head down, he caught her in a languid kiss, nose nudging the bridge of hers. He was a bit too proud of himself, she thought, a dazed smile touching her lips.

"Told you, y'could," he mumbled into her kiss, "Gotta listen to me more, hm?"

"Maybe next time," she sighed, too out of it to try too hard to play along.

"Maybe, next time," he repeated, letting out a plume of laughter for the both of them. Letting go of her hip, she could feel Harry fiddling with the waist of his pants, fingertips brushing against her sensitive core. "Ready f'me to fuck you?

Her lashes fluttered in a blink, remembering his promise of giving her more tonight. Peering down at where his hands pushed down the band of his pants, she watched as his cock bobbed against his toned stomach. It was flushed red, head ruddy and slick with a vein vining along the shaft. A pearl of precum clung to the blocked muscles of his abs, where the length hit high under his navel.

Just the sight of his hard cock had her stomach twining once more. Truthfully, she wouldn't have imagined anything less—not with the way he carried himself.

"Baby," Harry sang, grabbing her attention, "Are y'ready? Gotta say it—tell me y'want me."

Whatever he saw on her face was enough to have a dimple denting his cheek, more than satisfied with the desire in her eyes. "I want you," she said, despite the quivering muscles in her thighs, "Please, daddy."

His features shifted at her words, darkening as his eyes dragged heavily over her body. The way he looked at her was enough to have goosebumps on her skin, lungs squeezing.

"Think 'm gonna fit?" he crooned, fisting his length as he dragged the crown through her slit.

Before she could answer, he laid his cock against the small of her stomach, lining it up to show just how far inside he would reach once sinking in. His balls pressed against her clit, setting a jolt up her spine. She could feel him throbbing, matching the rhythm of her heart.

"We-We'll make it fit."

His laugh was melodious, lighthearted amongst the atmosphere cultivated between them. He cut himself off when he reared his hips back and nudged the head of his cock against her opening, a soft wet noise slicking through the room. Nothing seemed to be too funny, then.

Reaching for the wrist to the hand keeping her thighs spread, (Y/N) anchored herself to him with the grip. She felt her walls split open as he pushed through, the flare of his head nudging through the squeezing pulses. A lingering whine sung from her throat, breathless and pitched.

Harry seemingly held his breath as he bottomed out inside her, his base smearing against her clit. He reached the farthest parts of her, crowding in her stomach. A whine of his name fell from her lips, her head falling back into the mattress with her eyes falling closed.

Falling over her, Harry rested his forehead on the shelf of her collarbones, a heavy breath fanning across her heated skin. The press of his body atop hers was a comforting weight, keeping her wriggling form steady among the sheets.

A whispered curse was felt against her skin just before Harry reared his hips back. The slide of his cock through her walls gave a pleasant burn, reminding her just how far she was stretching to fit him in. The slick of her gushing orgasm was more than enough to help him through the pulsing, wet noises sodding from where their bodies joined.

Just as she adjusted to the slide of his length, Harry thrusted forward once more, keeping her stretched around him. He curated a rhythm, spearing through her in lingering draws. The breath was knocked out of her everytime, matching the heavy breaths Harry panted.

"So wet for me, baby," he murmured, voice strained, "Fuck—Gonna make y'squirt for me again, yeah? Gonna do it again for daddy?"

A loud moan filtered from her, reverberating through her chest with her head thrown back. This wasn't going to take long, she was sure. She was already twisted up inside, incredibly sensitive given the kind of pleasure he'd given her just minutes before. Every time he pulled out, leaving just his tip inside, the ridge ground against the spongy spot hidden between her walls. As soon as he sank inside, her clit was pressed against his base. Each touch stole her breath, lungs stilted.

"Uh-huh, uh-huh," she frantically agreed, "I—I'm so close—fuck."

"I know y'are," he crooned, teeth gritted, "'M gonna—Where do y'want me, baby?

Her answer was immediate, a breathy moan, "My tits."

She could feel the way he twitched inside her, nudging hard against her snug walls. "I can do that for you, baby. Is thi-this what you've thought about—what y'wanted when y'came to m'show tonight?"

Reaching up and looping her arms around his neck, she pulled him close once more, their mouths resting against one another though there was no energy to be had to turn it into a kiss. "You made me so wet during the show," she admitted, the words sweeping across his mouth, "I wanted you to fuck me so bad."

His hips bucked harshly against her own. "As soon as I saw you," he started, his voice graveled, "I knew I was taking y'home tonight."

He caught her in a kiss, messy and off-centered. He plucked his teeth against her bottom lip, the sting running down her spine in a clarifying jolt. She wrapped her legs around his hips, ankles crossing behind his back as he kept her close, disrupting his rhythm. Her toes curled as his thrusts turned into lingering rolls against her, shooting his head deeper.

This time, the growing spiral in her stomach came on quickly. The knot she was now familiar with built quickly, heavy and tight with every grind of his base against her clit. It was all too much, enough to have her crying into his mouth.

"Squirt for me, baby," he murmured, coaxing her closer to the edge with every rumble of his voice, "Show daddy how much y'want me."

She didn't have to think—unable to think—her orgasm came rushing. Though it wasn't quite as messy as the first time, she could still feel the gush between her legs, fighting against the plug of his cock. It was hard and fast, knocking the breath out of her to leave her mouth dropped in a silent gape.

It wasn't until she was beginning to see the other side that she heard Harry's voice, a string of curses, coming out through gritted teeth, could be heard. She was still high in the clouds when he pulled out, shifting up to his knees on the bed until he was hovering above her. Cracking her eyes open, she could see the same wild look in his eyes that she was sure was in hers, dazed and out of this world.

Fisting his length, his hand squelched along his shaft for only a handful of pumps until his cum gushed over her. Just as she asked, the ropes landed across her chest. Her skin was already heated enough, but the trails he left over her breasts were that much more. The sight of him working his own cock was enough to have her breathless once more, though her body was too sensitive to feel anything but a jolt through her nerve endings.

Harry with his head thrown back, moaned out her name and strings of curses. Even these moments sounded like notes, perfect for setting to music.

Once the world came back into focus, (Y/N) could feel cum drying on her chest, her own wetness sticking to the inside of her thighs. Harry dropped to the mattress beside her, chest heaving and flushed. His eyes were closed though his head was turned to face her, raspberry lips swollen and parted.

With the limited light from the lamp, he was bathed in buttery warmth. His chest sparkled with a sheen of sweat, droplets having run between the blocks of muscle underneath the inked lines of his tattoos.

He took his time joining her back in this moment, his eyes shuttered closed as he ran her eyes over his features. If she had a camera with her, she would have had to take a shot of this—the moment pretty enough to end up as an album cover. The haze in her head did little to stop her from reaching out and tracing her fingertips over his face, just barely grazing her skin in glancing touches.

A blooming smile made its way onto his lips, dimples denting his cheeks.

"C'mere," he murmured, voice graveled and rocky.

Despite the drying cum on her skin, Harry welcomed her into his arms, settling her against his chest. Holding her close, he nosed at the top of her head, uncaring about the sweat entwined in the strands of her hair.

(Y/N) practically melted into his hold. She hadn't expected cuddling was a part of the package tonight.

Her body grew heavy in his hold, the night's events catching up to her. Even without everything happening in this hotel—from the party to being invited into his suite—she had also been to a concert tonight, flush to the barricade. Her body was spent, even if her head pinged with reminders of just who had made it that way.

It wasn't until the crackling stopped that she realized that the tape finally ended, needing to be replaced or turned to the other side. She couldn't even be bummed that she missed out on these unreleased tracks. She'd hear them again someday, probably. She wouldn't have this night again.

She wasn't sure how long they laid with one another, cuddled and messy, before Harry's voice poked through the silence.

"What are y'doing this summer?"

A plume of laughter left her lips. Now was the time for small talk?

"I don't know," she smiled, "Why?"

Playing with the ends of her hair, Harry's tone was casual as he spoke, "Well, m'next show is this Saturday. Y'coming with me?"

Her heart lagged.

"What?"

It was his turn to let out a breathy laugh. "I want y'to come with me, love. We could do this every night for as long as y'want."

Before she could think better of it, another question blurted from her lips. "Why?"

Harry paused. "Y'make me laugh—and cum faster than I should, but don't tell anyone that."

In the dark of his suite, clothes puddled on the floor and bodies sticky, (Y/N) couldn't wait to pick up a diary just to write out how they laughed together.

"You're that easy?"

"I suppose I am, love."

—————

its been a super long time since I wrote something with the plain intent of writing smut so I hope this turned out well shufshfuhs thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and please lmk if you have any fun ideas or requests!

1K notes · View notes

lewcodina · 22 days ago

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i love the english | leah williamson x fem! reader

summary; everyones fave ex wag seems to start soft launching again in london

fc; kenia os

warnings; cursing i think

notes; kenia os is soo cute but this was kinda sorta proof read

masterlist !

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liked by kaliuchis, leahwilliamsonn, and others !

yourusername: london, thank you so much!❤️

username: QUEEEEEN

username: i miss u and joão 😢

username: girllllll

username: lowk same😕

username: they were not a good relationship tho 😭😭😭

username: reallll

username: the red heart omg london is red so true 😫😫😫

username: why is leah williamson liking this????

username: like ariana what r u doing here

kaliuchis: 🥰🥰🥰 *liked by yourusername*

username: KALI WHAT DO U KNOW??🤨

username: u and joão were so cute 😔😔

username: REAL i miss my parents sm

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yourusername uploaded to their story !

[caption 1; 🐆🐆] [caption 2; when a certain someone likes my outfit a bit too much🙈🙈 💐]

username WHOOO

username plz say it’s joão plz plz plzzzzzzz🙏

username omg did joão buy u the flowers??

username THE FITTT😫😍

username it’s giving glamour blonde glamour

username was that joão?

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liked by leahwilliamsonn, pesopluma, and others !

yourusername: more of london ❤️

username: MOTHER IS A GOONER

username: london is red SO TRUEEEEE

username: i don’t think she’s back w joão anymore considering he plays for chelsea 😔😔

username: oooo she’d look good w calafiori😍

username: maybe she’s single? she doesn’t need a man

username: maybe she’s gay

username: shes only ever dated men tho???

username: peso pluma liked 😍

username: they’re friends !!

username: shes sooo😫

username: coygggskxjlefkodf

username: leah liked again omg

username: fairs she decided to explore london after her concert i get it 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

username: new music when plz im already going through withdrawals even tho tommy & pamela came out a month ago😔🙏

username: so no joão?:/

username: nahhh she’s an arsenal fan and he plays for chelsea 😭

username: enemies to lovers????🤔

username: i miss them but no💔

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yourusername uploaded to their story !

[caption 1; w the best photographer ❤️] [caption 2; now playing ➡️ tommy & pamela by peso pluma and y/n l/n (trans; quiet so that no one sees us]

username i think i figured it out ong

username WAITTTTTTTT

username gorgeous girl

username this soft launch is killing me just pls tell me we have wag y/n back😭😭🙏🙏

username yeah that’s not joão 😞😞😞😞

leahwilliamsonn being the best photographer only came after you telling at me 😕

yourusername sorry my love but the angles were off😔😔😔

leahwilliamsonn yeah yeah my bad for staring at the pretty lady in front of the camera instead 🙄

yourusername take me out for ice cream nd maybe i’ll forgive u xxxx

leahwilliamsonn the things you to do me… i’ll be home in 20

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liked by leahwilliamsonn, katie_mccabe11, and others !

yourusername: ibizaaaaa

username: wait a damn mf minute….

username: i recognize that bun from anywhere😭

username: body is TEAAA😍😍

username: ok ibiza take over period

username: why is katie mccabe liking did the ibiza post attract all the fem footballers

username: face BANK😫

username: is that leah williamson?????

username: GIRL IT ISSS

username: omg she’s w keira too wtfffff

username: i love women !!

username: i took a pill in ibizaaaa

username: i am no better than a man 🤤

username: BITCH THATS LEAH WILLIAMSON?? IM CRYINGG😭😭😭😭😭😭

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leahwilliamsonn uploaded to their story !

[caption 1; new camera to become a better photographer she says] [caption 2; i think i’m alright]

username girl….

username THATS Y/N!!!!!

username ur dating someone ??💔💔

username u and y/n are no longer subtle btw queen😇😇😇🤗🤗🤗

username WAHHHHHH

username enough of this soft launch give me a hard launch !!!!!😭😭😭🙏🙏🙏🙏

yourusername i need the best of the best for my instagram feed excuse u😠😠😠😠

leahwilliamsonn u are so right i’m sorry my love😔

yourusername ugh i love when you listen to me so quickly 🥰

yourusername im showing this to katie

leahwilliamsonn NOW WAIT????that’s not even fair bc then everyone will know

yourusername it’s ok to be a lover girl at heart, babe

leahwilliamsonn can you blame me? this soft launch stuff is annoying 🙄🙄

yourusername but it’s funny seeing all the comments 🤒🤒

leahwilliamsonn but i wanna show you off NOW

yourusername lol simp

leahwilliamsonn yeah true

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yourusername uploaded to their story !

[caption 1; she love smiley fries] [caption 2; ☺️☺️]

katie_mccabe11 what’d you even say to her to get her all smiley like that???🤣

yourusername told her she looked cute nd how i was gonna post that picture on my story 😭😭

katie_mccabe11 oi i’m so gonna use that against her

yourusername i got u 🫷🙂‍↕️🫸

keirawalsh why is she so red?

yourusername i said she looked cute

keirawalsh ah makes sense

username AHAHALDKLS

username CHAT ITS HAPPENINGGGG😭😭

username this is sickening yall are fr a power couple omg

username Y/N FOR THE GIRLSSS ( specifically leah omgggg😫😫😫 )

leahwilliamsonn oh you actually posted this

yourusername i said you looked cute, no?

yourusername leah i can hear u giggling in the living room

leahwilliamsonn hurry up 😒 and wear my arsenal hoodie

yourusername ok whatever u say ❤️

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liked by leahwilliamsonn, keirawalsh, and others !

yourusername: God i love the english

tagged; leahwilliamsonn

leahwilliamsonn: wow who is she???

yourusername: you’re sooooooooo

leahwilliamsonn: 😇😇😇😇

leahwilliamsonn: ❤️❤️❤️❤️

yourusername: 💙💙💙💙

leahwilliamsonn: babe…..

yourusername: sorry🙄❤️❤️❤️❤️

username: oh how cute🥹

username: sleeping on the highway 2night💔

username:HNAXLSKXKOSXKOSKZLSLDKAOXKKSNLSJXISJXOSJXLQMXNALKXKVBQL?!1@:917:&@bbqldoekvvvv???

username: real oomf real

username: OH HELLO HARD LAUNCH😭😭😭💞💞💞💞💞💘💘💘💓💗

username: idk if i wanna be y/n or leah

username: POWER COUPLEEE😭❤️

keirawalsh: did she giggle while watching you post this?

yourusername: maybe

stanwaygeorgia: come on, leah’s always giggling and blushing over y/n

leahwilliamsonn: how is this turning against me ??

katie_mccabe11: ahh so this is why leah was giggling during training??

yourusername: maybe 😇

leahwilliamsonn: NO?????

kyacooneyx: she lies !☝️☝️☝️

alessia: it’s true i was there 🙂‍↕️

liawaelti: so happy for you both❤️

leahwilliamsonn: thank you for not teasing me

liawaelti: oh i will just later

yourusername: LIAAA🫶🫶🫶🫶

username: i told yall y/n is for the girls🙄

username: congratulations 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

#woso x reader #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso smau #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson x you #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson smau

425 notes · View notes

ghostbustting · 6 months ago

Note

I REALLY NEED A PART 2 OF YOUR FIRST FANFIC-

it’s amazing and i enjoyed every word i read in it.😭

I'M SO GLAD YOU LOVED IT SJSBDHSBA :DD

╰┈➤“𝑷𝑰𝑪𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑬 𝑼𝑺„ ๋࣭⭑

From the 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 series

90s!James Hetfield x Reader

Contains Smut.

The lingering encounter with James Hetfield that night before his concert kept me up and awake almost every night, the printed pictures I kept, as James told me to do, an evidence of the filthy things we did on that couch. An evidence of how a frontman of a metal band was able to make me lose my self respect and dignity. Turning the old decent me to someone with such dirty thoughts every lonely night.

The way he held me, the way he felt in me, the way he kissed me, the way he talked to me.. every single thing he did to me that night burned a hole in my brain in order to fill that hole with that exact memory.

How I’d go through those pictures of me whenever I couldn’t sleep at night while I yearn for him is surely something I found shameless for me that I have to keep to myself.

His face, his voice, his touch.. oh what more can I wish for than to see him again? I can’t help but wonder if this even meant anything to him but meaningless sex with a random photographer.

I’d go through my days, walking down to street only to find people wearing Metallica t-shirts, posters of him on random walls, his music blaring from some bar. Everything just forced me to remember him.

Even at work, my colleagues wouldn’t stop praising me for being able to meet all four members of Metallica in person. If only they knew what happened between me and one of those members that night.

Another thing that bugged me was the fact that there’s still one last thing he asked of me that I have not done; to go to his next concert and give him the copies of the pictures.

Each time his requests linger in my mind, I feel a pang of nervousness in my heart, knowing my full schedule of work had prevent me to fulfill what he wanted me to do, not having enough free time and so less money to even buy a ticket if I had time. It felt like I had completely lose the chance of meeting him once again and giving him those pictures that could’ve made him remember our encounter forever.

It’s a thought I start to think of daily.

That fact also made me remember what I am, just a lucky new photographer that was sent to take innocent pictures in the backstage of Metallica’s show. Being able to be touched and acknowledged by James Hetfield that way should be more than enough luck for me.

I should be grateful.

But at the same time, it’s him.

How can one not be greedy when it’s James Hetfield?

At first, I don’t believe nor understand how girls could easily fall to their knees just by the sight of him from a piece of paper or the sound of him from the radio. I thought he was just another rock star with a bunch of groupies. I was wrong, apparently. That man just knows his ways around women.

His presence onstage and offstage can both make you pay full attention to him, he was.. a totally interesting person. Even besides the sex we had.

It was the frontman effect I suppose, always being able to catch people’s attention.

Then, as if fate have finally went my way, my manager decided to send me to yet again another Metallica concert to take more pictures of the band and the show. Words cannot express how much I wanted to jump up and down and spin around and roll around the ground out of excitement that day. I couldn’t count how many people thought I was a mad woman walking down the streets with a smile that wide, cheeks red.

My heart never stopped beating loudly whenever I think about meeting Hetfield in person again, no matter whether he decided to play with me again or forgotten about me. I just yearn to see those blue eyes of his in person once again. To make him see me again. To make him acknowledge me again. Even if he forget me, at least I’ll please myself by doing enough such as observing in the sight of that beautiful man.

This time, they sent me with a partner again— and unfortunately, he was well and healthy, meaning I had to go through this with him trailing around with me together. Though it means easier work process, it also gave me a small lost of hope for having a private encounter with Hetfield again. That is if it’s even possible in the first place.

That night, my partner, Stan and I walk into the backstage together, this time we were told to go after the show instead of before the show. Yet the situation is no different, still the same busy backstage of a Metallica concert.

“Just.. act professional but keep it totally casual, ‘kay?” I spoke to him, he had an stupid nervous expression on his face as he nods that made me cringe to myself, he was also a new photographer, a little younger than me even. He’s kind of a wimp, always making me do all the fucking talking. But eh it’s his first time meeting one of the biggest metal bands.

I walk ahead of him, practically leading his slow and unsure steps even though I barely know this place, I just continue to walk down the hallway. Cause as they say, keep moving forward.. right?

And as I thought in my theory, we came across a door with the band’s name on it, apparently all in the same dressing room this time. “Is that it?” Stan asked behind me in a shocked whisper.

I roll my eyes a little and chuckle nervously at his dorky reaction, trying to act like this shit is normal to me. Meanwhile, my mind cannot stop thinking about James and the pictures he asked me for that I had brought in my bag. “Professional, right?” I say, almost to myself more than to him.

“Okay, let’s do this…” I mutter with a sigh as I slowly place my hand on the handle, pulling it down with a tongue click as I slowly push the door open.

Just as I did, oh guess just who showed up in front of the door?

James stood there, a stupid smirk was on his face— yeah, that typical James Hetfield smirk, his sweat visible through his black top, yet another beer in his hand. His eyebrows raised and his smirk faltered a little when he saw me, quite obviously surprised to see me here.

Our eyes meet, not a single one of us able to utter out a word as we’re still phased by this sudden reunition. He blinked a couple times before taking the sight of me in, “..You.”

My own eyes widened a little, before I clear my throat and speak as well. “Hi. We’re uh.. here to take pictures for the papers..?” My fingers fiddle with the strap of my rucksack. I can only hope he doesn’t have any super hearing ability. Cause then he’d be able to hear the sweat trickling down the back of my neck, the small breaths I let out nervously, or how embarrassingly fast my heart beats.

Then, his smirk returns and he move aside. “Right. Step right in, sweets.” He say, calling me with that damn nickname again that I haven’t been able to shoo out of my head ever since our last encounter, the way he called me ‘Sweets’ or ‘Sweetheart’ scratching a part of my brain that I surely cannot reach.

Stan and I then enter the room, finding the other three scattered around, some groupies sitting on the couch with them. Drummer Lars Ulrich looked up and grinned when he saw me, “The pretty one’s back, huh?” He asked James, who was walking behind me.

“She’s here to collect hot pictures of us again for her lonely nights, aren’t ya?” James chuckle, walking by me with a secret pat to my ass, something the others couldn’t see.

Jason Newsted turned his eyes towards Stan, raising an eyebrow. “And who’s this dude?” He snickered with Lars, meanwhile Kirk Hammett only chuckled a little.

I turn to Stan, sighing when I found him frozen in his spot, eyes wide and hands trembling a little. I clear my throat and gently place a hand on Stan’s back, “This is Stan, he’s my um.. partner.” I introduced him slowly.

I feel a lump in my throat when I feel a pair of eyes staring at me beside me. There’s only one member that isn’t sitting on that couch, and by this time I’m pretty sure I can recognize his gaze, having thoughts about it once too many times before.

Taking deep breaths, I turn to Stan, smiling a little. “Remember, professional. One hundred percent professional.” I say to him, even though I really should be concerning about myself when I say that.

Stan and I then start to take pictures of the guys, Stan focusing on Lars and Kirk while I focus on James and Jason, feeling James’ eyes on me the entire time I take the pictures for Jason first, almost too obvious to avoid. I can hear him sigh every now and then, especially when I kept laughing and telling Jason to put his chin down since he wont stop putting it up.

After awhile, I move on to James, feeling a little nervous for some reason.

While I take the pictures of him, he took a big sip of his beer, making my photography look completely candid. I try to act casual about the way he gaze at me, trying to do my job professionally. He was quiet and easy to deal with, judging from how Stan is struggling with the drummer and guitarist over there.

That’s when he spoke up, “So.. took you damn long enough.” He said.

I look up with a raised eyebrow, “Sorry?”

He chuckle and run a hand through his gorgeous hair, he looked at the others first before continuing, finding them occupied with Stan and the groupies. “It’s been weeks. Have you forgotten about what I told you to do?” He ask, his voice a little lower now.

Clearing my throat, I look away a little. I thought about my answer, looking up to make sure the others are still too busy to notice the proximity between James and I. I shake my head and reach my hand into my bag, “I.. No, I’ve got the—”

“Not here, sweetheart.”

I look up at him with confusion and surprise as my hand pauses, “What do you mean?” I ask slowly, feeling quite unsure of what he mean by that. It’s not like the others will notice it, right?

He look at me with that stupid fucking smirk again that he surely gave to all of the thousand girls he had underneath him before me, “Come with me.” He whisper with a spark of excitement in his voice, “My hotel’s right around the corner.”

My eyes widen and I swallow the lump in my throat, I glance at the others once again. “But they—” James’ hand took my jaw gently and turned my head back towards him.

“They wont give a fuck.” He smirk and took advantage of my statue-like state, taking my hand and grabbing his jacket.

He slowly slip through the room’s door and took me with him, making our way towards the exit. “James!” I whisper-yelled, finding this risky and too obvious. I wouldn’t want Stan to tell anyone that James Hetfield took me back to his hotel room.

“Don’t worry, just a little adventure.” He winked to me.

My mind was racing with thoughts of what’s going on, why he needed to take me out of here, what his plan was. But the fact that it’s just us.. going to his hotel room.. already made me feel like I’m gonna pass out.

He took us into a cab. My hand in his the entire time is something that made me feel so warm and excited, his thumb tracing circles on the back of my hand.

I look up at him, only to find him completely chilled and looking out the window like this is a regular thing for him to do. Perhaps it is. He probably fucked a girl before the show anyways.

The ride seems to take so long despite him saying the hotel was just around the corner, his hold on my hand seems to tighten while not even gazing my way, my heart seems to explode in any minutes now with how nervous he make me even just by sitting close to him and holding his hand.

When we stop in front of the hotel, he wasted no time with paying the driver and opening the door. Rushing us out and into the big hotel, careful for any lurking fans or paparazzi around us.

It went so fast.

Everything went so fast.

Too fast, perhaps?

Cause even after zoning out just a bit, the next thing I know I was pushed into his hotel room and pinned against the closed door behind me, one of his hand beside my head while the other on my waist.

The position we’re in reminds me too much of when we first met, the same way he pinned me against the door of his dressing room, the way his bigger figure towers over me, his eyes so mesmerizing you won’t even think of looking away.

He was silent, somehow. His face slightly leaning down, close to my neck. I can smell the faint scent of beer from his breath and the cologne he wore mixed with some of his after-show sweat.

My breath hitched when he squeezed my hip and press a kiss on my neck, his beard giving a slight tickle to my skin. I feel the warmth of his tongue gently glide on my skin, dampening a spot on my neck.

Trembling a little, my hands reach up and hold his shoulder, squirming a little as he starts to violate my neck, sucking and nibbling on the skin now.

My soft sighs fills his ear as he focus on marking my neck, licking each freshly marked spot to make them hurt less.

He groaned into my hair, pulling me close and grinding the rock hard bulge on his pants against me, “What took you so long to visit me again, baby? I thought we made a deal..” He grumbled, both his hands on my hips now as he continue his attempts to grind on my body.

I whimper and run a hand through his hair, gripping the strands lightly. “I.. I was busy..” I spoke in a small voice, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Right..” He chuckled, as if he doesn’t believe me.

Suddenly, he hold me still by my waist and lift me up, carrying me all the way to the tidied up hotel bed. “Strip. You’re a big girl, do it yourself.” He commanded, the sternness in his voice surprising me a little. “And give me that.” He grabbed my bag and yanked it away from me.

Knowing better than to disobey him, I sit up on the edge of the bed and slowly begin to discard every piece of fabric that covers my skin away from him. I didn’t know what he was doing with my bag, but I didn’t really care. I feel some sort of trust towards him, strangely enough.

By the time I take off my last piece of clothing, which is my panties, I feel the mattress behind me sinking down as James’ weight joins mine on the bed, his body completely bare as well.

I turn around and find him sitting with his legs spread out, his hard cock standing proudly with precum dripping out of his red swollen tip. He was leaning on the pillows, smirking at me as he hold one of the pictures I printed from our last session in his hand.

Raising an eyebrow with a small blush on both my cheeks, I slowly crawl up the bed and beside him. I watch as he took his cock in one of his big hands, pumping it up and down as he look through the printed pictures.

“Fuck, sweetheart..” He grunted out as he work on himself.

I sat there like an idiot, not knowing what to do. My eyes are completely hallucinated by the sight of his hand gripping and jerking off his cock. He must’ve noticed my eyes, cause then he chuckled and smirk at me. “Like what you’re seeing?”

I watch as he continue to masturbate to the filthy pictures in his hands, I can feel my bare pussy aching at the thought of having him inside me again, pressing my thighs together as I slowly nod, looking almost shameful for it.

He beckoned for me to come closer with his fingers, “Come here, sweet girl.”

Slowly, I start crawling closer, my eyes still intrigued by his cock. It’s been weeks since I’ve seen it in person, nights I’ve spent yearning for it to fill me up, looking at it through the picture of me sucking it wasn’t enough. I needed to feel it in person.

With me taking too long to come closer, he took his hand off his cock and grabbed me by my hips, positioning me with such ease to sit on his mouth, facing the rest of his body. He was manhandling me like I knew he would tonight. How I love feeling those big hands on me.

I gasp when I was introduced to the warmth and wetness of his tongue again, this time licking up and sucking on my aching cunt. I moan with pleasure, “James!” My hand clasped onto my mouth as the absolute lust controlled over me. “F-fuck..!”

His hand grabbed my arm tightly and pulled my hand off my mouth. To my surprise, he led it down towards his twitching cock, leading me to wrap my palm around it and move my hand up and down his shaft. “Keep going..” He murmured.

I can feel his voice and groan vibrate against my pussy as I willingly move my hand up and down him, all while whimpering and squirming on top of his mouth, his tongue won’t stop devouring me, his lips practically making out with my clit.

Heavy breaths are all I can make out with small vulnerable “James..” ’s. We just started yet I already feel like crumbling into pieces right on his magician of a tongue.

Forcing myself to lean forward over his body, I stretch myself enough for my mouth to be able to reach the tip of his cock, sliding it past my lips and into my mouth, causing another groan to vibrate up me from his mouth.

Time seems to stop.

Innocence turns into impurity.

Hesitance turns into addiction.

Admiration turns into obsession.

All that I can ever think of at this moment is how his tongue slides up and down my soaking cunt and diving past the folds, making me lose my mind while I try to continue bobbing my head up and down his girth, almost choking.

But I couldn’t care less if I choke. It felt good. He felt right in my mouth. And suddenly it was my mission to please him as much as he pleased me. To make him addicted to my touches like I am to his.

And it seemed to work.

Cause then he grabbed my hips and pull on my ass even more, pressing me down onto his face as his tongue discover me even deeper. His hands starts travelling up to my chest and grope my breasts and every single flesh he can squeeze, his own hips thrusting up into my mouth.

I pull back from his cock to let out the loudest moan I’ve ever let out in my entire life, coming down from my high right on his cock, feeling him drink all my juices up as if he’s been in Sahara the whole time. “Ah..! Shit..!” I gasp, grinding back and forth on his face before lifting my hips up to let him breathe.

That’s when white streaks of his own cum starts to shoot up to my face, I hear him groan even more as his cock twitches and slowly soften again.

I get off him and take deep breaths as I lightly touch my face, scooping up some of his cum with my finger. I desperately suck on that finger, needing to taste him.

James sat up and gently hold my chin as I suck on the cum on my finger, my eyes look up at him. He groans at the sight and push my finger aside so he can kiss me passionately, holding my face in his hand.

Pulling away, he rest his forehead on mine. “You know, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” He confessed, grinning. “Didn’t even fuck a single girl these weeks, waiting for you.”

I hum and sigh, trying to catch my breath as he wipe the rest of his cum off my face using a piece of clothing laying around. “Is.. Is that so?” I ask in pure disbelief. I didn’t even expect him to remember me. Let alone thinking about me and waiting for me all these weeks.

“Yes, you.. you intrigue me, sweetheart.” I close my eyes when the back of his hand caress my cheek, “So I’m just saying..” He grin widely before covering my eyes with his hands, making me smile and giggle. “Picture us.. going around this shitty town tomorrow.. just the two of us. I’ll take you wherever you want.” He press a light kiss on my lips.

With his hands still covering my eyes, I grin and hum, pretending to think about it. “..alright.”

My vision then return when he pull his hand back, smiling widely like a teenager that just asked out his crush. “Alright?” He repeated, to which I chuckle and nod at. “Alright!” He whisper-yelled to himself in celebration.

I laugh softly, who knew James Hetfield was such a dork? But god, just thinking of where this might lead fills my heart with a new emotion. It feels warm, almost comforting, seeing him smile genuinely and not one of those cheesy Hetfield smirks.

When I tried to stand up, he suddenly pull me back down and wrap his arms around me. “I didn’t remember saying we’re done for the night..” He whisper in my ear.

God, this man..

#james hetfield #james hetfield x reader #james hetfield smut #james hetfield fanfiction #james hetfield x you #papa het #metallica #metallica fanfiction #metallica x reader #metallica smut #fanfic #smut #fanfiction

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rockinshots · 2 months ago

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The mighty Sabaton brought their Swiss Army to Grand Theatre, and they demolished us!! 💥💥

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atleastpleasetelephone · 3 months ago

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Kinktober 2024 - Masterlist

Here is my kinktober masterlist - the prompts are from @starsandskies and these are all Elvis or one of his film characters. They're all x reader unless I've noted otherwise. Let me know what you're most excited about!

Day 1: Dirty talk -Glenn Tyler

You're trying to study but Glenn has other ideas...

Day 2: Against a wall - Elvis during the filming of Charro!

You deliver the Charro! script to Elvis and he takes his frustrations out on you.

Day 3: Orgasm control - Clint Reno

Clint comes to visit you to learn how to make love to a woman.

Day 4: Stockings - 70s Elvis

Elvis takes a liking to your stockings...

Day 5: Praise kink - Dr Carpenter

Dr Carpenter makes a house call.

Day 6: Thigh riding - Rick Richards

You've been flirting with Rick for the whole helicopter ride and now you want to have your way with him.

Day 7: Risky places - Sonny x reader x Elvis

It's yours and Sonny's wedding day, but you keep making eyes at Elvis. Sonny decides it's time to indulge your little fantasy.

Day 8: Threesome/Moresome - Elvis and many women in the jacuzzi

Elvis asks the Memphis Mafia for a tub full of women and has some fun with them.

Day 9: Naked-Clothed - Joe Lightcloud

Joe comes home from the rodeo unexpectedly and catches you having a little fun.

Day 10: Knife play - Charlie Rogers

You're one half of a knife-throwing act in the circus and Charlie wants in on it.

Day 11: Leather/Latex - 68 Elvis in a latex suit

Elvis puts on an outfit he thinks you can't resist, but you turn the tables on him.

Day 12: Role reversal - BDE

When you don't want to see photos of yourself, Elvis realises he hasn't told you you're pretty for a while.

Day 13: Oral - Elvis in the cadillac, early 60s.

Elvis takes you for a date in his new gold-plated Cadillac Limousine.

Day 14: Sensory deprivation/Sensory play - blindfold

When you find it difficult to let go in bed Elvis has an idea.

Day 15: Cock rings/Cages - Walter Hale

You and Walter can't leave each other alone, and he has stamina.

Day 16: Flashing - A girl flashes him at a concert, 72.

When Elvis is surprised by you flashing him he knows he has to find you.

Day 17: Biting/Biting marks - 70s Elvis

You tell BDE you're bored with your sex life so he takes matters into his own hands.

Day 18: Body writing - BDE

You want to show Elvis how much he means to you after a show, and decide lipstick is the best way to do it.

Day 19: Pegging/Strap-ons - Princess universe

Princess persuades Elvis to try something new in the bedroom.

Day 20: Facesitting - 1956 Elvis and an older woman.

Elvis comes to take your daughter for a date but ends up falling for you.

Day 21: Masturbation - Outtake from Gentle On My Mind

Gloria in the shower, thinking about Elvis.

Day 22: Breeding kink - 70s Elvis.

Elvis comes back from signing the contract with the International Hotel full of excitement.

Day 23: Bondage/Restraints - 72 Elvis, a continuation of Kinky Boots.

When you won't stop playing with Elvis' cane collection even though he's told you not to, he has to teach you a lesson.

Day 24: Dom/Sub dynamics - 50s Elvis reading fan mail.

When Elvis gets aroused reading his fan mail you have to teach him a lesson.

Day 25: Impact play/Spanking - 70 Elvis.

You persuade Elvis to hit you with one of his belts.

Day 26: Voyeurism/Exhibitionism - Dr Carpenter.

When Dr Carpenter doesn't come round at the usual time, you decide to go to him. Sequel to day 5.

Day 27: Choking/Breathplay - Greg Nolan.

You're a model Greg is photographing but you can't seem to get your head in the game, so you persuade him to choke you a little.

Day 28: Lap dance - 1970 Elvis in Vegas.

Elvis has fun with an exotic dancer after a Vegas show.

Day 29: Masks/Costumes - set in the present day with 1969 Elvis.

Elvis does a Calvin Klein ad, and as the photographer, you try to stay professional.

Day 30: Hair pulling - Elvis in his reading glasses.

Elvis examines your pussy and gets a little carried away.

Day 31: Aftercare - 70s Elvis.

Elvis feels bad whenever he's rough with you, and afterwards becomes the cutest, fluffiest guy ever.

Taglist:

@vintagepresley @arg-xoxo @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican @blursedblegh @returntopresley @another-identityofmine @eapep @everythingelvispresley @i-r-i-n-a-a @sissylittlefeather @arrolyn1114 @jhoneybees @cattcb @polksaladava @lookingforrainbows @jkdaddy01 @ccab @epthedream69 @lustnhim @elvisslut @pomtherine

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photosbyterez · 9 months ago

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Renee Rapp and Towa Bird in Dublin, Ireland on 4/3/2024

Please, do not repost.

#renee rapp #towa bird #snow angel #snow hard feelings tour #female photographers #photographer #photography #women photographers #concert #concert photography

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theother-victoria · 27 days ago

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LOVE IS CONCOCTED FROM ESTERS AND KETONES- CH.02: ROBIN

SYNOPSIS: you’ve been commissioned to make a perfume that tells the life story of the universe’s most beloved idol. don’t let her down now.

CHARACTERS: robin, mentions of sunday, gopher wood, jade, and welt

TAGS: robin character story spoilers, mild gore (descriptions of a gunshot wound), mild angst, CRASHOUT ROBIN REAL WE ALL CHEERED (potentially ooc), 5.7k+ wc (I got carried away... sorry not sorry :3)

TAGLIST: @mitsvriii, @harque, @akutasoda, @flowery-jazz, @hazyue, @gabile18, @khoncore, @lxkeeeee, @mewnekoice-mecha, @nariism

NOTES: i love women give me a "hell yeah" in the comments if u agree

special thanks to pookies @wystiix, @tragedy-of-commons, and @papiliotao for proofreading!

M.LIST | FIRST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

Paparazzi in front of your store isn’t uncommon, but for a crowd like this so early in the morning- it’s already giving you a headache.

It hasn’t even been a half hour since you flipped the sign on the front door to “open” when you hear the squeal of tires pulling up to the curb. Several of them, in fact. The voices of reporters and paparazzi meld into one jumbled mess that grates on your ears, growing even louder when a car door opens and shuts.

Yeri and Aika glance over from where they are.

“We haven’t had a crowd like that in ages. Wonder who it could be.”

The flutter of camera shutters going off one after another is so loud they’re heard even inside the store. Camera flashes practically blind your poor shop assistants as they shield their eyes and draw the blinds shut. The cameras go off even more frantically now, desperate to get a few last shots in before the blinds shut entirely.

You hear the front door slam shut and a loud sigh of relief. Yeri and Aika both gasp in shock, and that catches your attention. It must be someone really famous then, or someone they idolize to elicit that kind of reaction.

You peek up from the counter and instantly realize why the paparazzi went insane. Lilac-silver hair, fluttery wings behind her ears, a halo with flowers at the ends that resemble angel’s trumpets…

It’s Robin. The Robin, in the flesh. In your store.

You’re no stranger to having famous people in your store, but you’ve never had a singer on her level of renown and you find yourself becoming strangely nervous. Two burly security guards flank her sides. She meets your gaze and bashfully smiles and waves.

“You must be (Name). I’ve heard many good things about you and your store.”

Her voice is even more angelic in person…

She extends her hand out for a handshake and you accept. The smooth silk of her glove brushes against your hand and you can hardly believe your luck right now. You’ve had your fair share of famous people in your store. Movie stars, politicians, celebrities, and the like tend to be a common sight in your store. Greetings range from a handshake to a hug to even a kiss on the cheek. But the thing is that they tend to be lax on a no-touching rule or don’t have one outright, often being photographed hugging their ardent fans. However, Robin has a strict no touching rule at her concerts and fan meet and greets. She will never touch someone of her own accord unless it’s a close friend or family and if a fan gets too bold… Well, her security is there for a reason.

“Do you mind if I just walk around? I don’t really have a scent in mind- or rather, a story that I want to tell. I’d like to see what you have to offer.”

“Not at all. Just call me over if you have questions or need any help.”

She walks around the store, occasionally stopping to sample some perfumes. She likes many of your perfumes, as evidenced by how her eyebrows raise in pleasant agreement almost every other bottle. But she looks rather… disinterested. No, disinterested isn’t the right word. More like… unsatisfied. Like she hasn’t found what she’s looking for just yet.

She checks her phone and her eyes flash in panic as she sees the time.

“Oh, it’ll be unbecoming of me and your shop’s reputation if I leave here without something. Quick, pass me a perfume you think I’ll enjoy! Money doesn’t matter. I have more credits than I know what to do with.”

You scan your store and hand her the first feminine perfume that catches your eye. It’s in a pretty pink bottle with a vintage atomizer. It’s sweet, sugary, and fruity. No surprise that it’s one of your best-sellers among young women, with top notes of juicy fruits and sparkling alcohol before drying down to a sweet vanilla with powdery aspects. You don’t doubt that she has a million other perfumes that smell similar and it’ll probably be quickly forgotten about in her undoubtedly already-extensive perfume collection, but it’s a crowd-pleaser and it wouldn’t hurt to add another bottle.

She swipes her card quickly and leaves, but not before looking back at you with a promising glint in her eyes.

“I’ll be back soon. And without the paparazzi.”

In your experience, that usually means a client wants a personalized perfume. Meaning they’re going to be divulging aspects of their past they don’t want anyone else around for.

Aika wanders over to your side when she’s out the door and the paparazzi have left. Yeri is in the back on the verge of fainting, mumbling something about her lucky stars having blessed her for a lifetime.

“What was that about? Seems like a wasted trip to me.”

You shrug and make your way back to the lab.

“Beats me.”

Weeks come and go. You handle clients as per usual, but you can’t get her out of your mind. And as you’re thinking about her while opening for the day, she shows up- albeit you don't recognize her at first. There are no outrageous paparazzi and she doesn’t even have her security with. She’s wearing a big tan trench coat that hides her svelte figure and instead makes her look like a shapeless mess. Her silver hair is hastily shoved into the hat atop her head and when she removes it, her halo also springs up, bobbing up and down a bit before stilling. The wings by her ears flutter and twitch as she stretches them out after hiding them in what was surely an uncomfortable position for so long.

“Good morning,” she greets with a gentle smile.

“Good morning,” you greet in return. “It’s nice to see you here again. Anything I can help you with today?”

“Yes, actually. I’d like to get a perfume custom-made.”

You tell Yeri and Aika to handle any customers that come in through the door before leading Robin to the back. Next to your lab is a small office where the business side of things are handled, and it’s where you negotiate commissions from clients. You unceremoniously brush aside a stack of credit card receipts and clear the desk space. You ask Robin if she’d like some snacks and tea. She declines the former but accepts the latter, and as the kettle boils atop the mini fridge in the corner, you get down to business.

“I’m happy to custom-make a perfume to your needs. Let’s get the necessary details sorted out first, and then we can move onto the fun stuff.”

You rattle off your rules regarding payment, as well as a rough timeline of production and when she can expect updates from you. She nods when she has to and you can see the same impatience in her eyes for the fun to begin.

After confirming with her and seeing the astronomical down payment go through, you can finally get into the part you enjoy the most.

“So, what would you like your perfume to smell like?”

“I’d like it to reflect my life story.”

Not an uncommon request. Probably one of your most common ones, actually. Consultations for these types of scents tend to be the longest, as clients pour out their life stories to you. They’d often bring a variety of items for you to smell to get a better idea, such as rags that belonged to someone dear a long time ago or locks of hair tied together with a yellowing ribbon. In this case, you wonder what the illustrious Miss Robin would bring.

The kettle goes off and you make some tea for the both of you. As you fill her cup, she looks around nervously.

“Will… anyone overhear this?”

“Don’t worry. The walls are soundproof here and you need the right key to unlock the door. As for my shop assistants, well…”

You mimic zipping your lips shut and throwing the key away.

“Client confidentiality has always been our utmost priority. Alongside a quality product, of course.”

You shoot her a wink and she laughs, her voice sounding like tinkling bells. The tension has visibly dissipated from her shoulders and she eagerly gets started.

“If I were to describe my life as a song, then the beginning of it was dark and solemn. A Stellaron invaded my homeland and took my mother from me. The chords were dissonant and the melody was unpleasant.”

Your phone buzzes and you see she sent over several voice messages.

“Transcripts of an exclusive interview I did a while back,” she explains. “One of the first and only times I opened up about my past. But since these are already out there, I wouldn’t want to waste your time. Instead, I’ll be telling you things that no reporter has heard before.”

She skips to when she first started studying music soon after she arrived on Penacony.

“My fingers still ache every time I think about the countless hours and late nights I spent alone in the practice rooms,” she says, lightly chuckling at the end as she surely recounts many memories. Then, her smile fades a bit.

“At the time, I had the support of my brother and friends, but right outside, there were people already disapproving. We were taken in by Gopher Wood, head of the Oak Family. You see, there’s five lineages that make up The Family, each handling different affairs,” she explains. “The Oak Family is in charge of political organization, whereas the Iris Family oversees the entertainment industry. Thus, many people, especially those of the Iris Family, cast doubts on whether I could make it as a singer when I ideally should’ve been learning how to handle political affairs.”

Robin sighs and looks out the window, fingernails drumming against her still-steaming mug of tea. Your phone continues to record and you hurriedly scribble down notes in your notepad.

“But I made it, despite what they said and their stake in the entertainment industry.”

“If you could thank only one person for their support, who would it be?”

“Why, my brother, of course!”

“Please tell me more about him.”

Her eyes light up and the wings by the side of her head flutter rapidly. It’s clear she loves her brother dearly as she excitedly gushes about him.

“Sunday made many sacrifices to support my dream. From when we were children, he never faltered in his support. In fact, the tipping point was when I put on a concert soon after I had just started taking music lessons. It was in our bedroom with him as the only audience member. There were no fancy acoustics, cheering fans, or even a mic. It was just me, singing my heart out as he clapped along. Thinking back, it was… something for sure! As I had just started taking music seriously, I had yet to grasp the basics. I was off-key, would flub several passages because I forgot the lyrics, and wouldn’t be able to hit all the notes.”

She winces and shakes her head as if to chase the thoughts away. Her wings puff out and droop from embarrassment.

“It must’ve been an awful listening experience for him. But Sunday never showed it. After the concert was over, he stood up and clapped as if demanding an encore and I’ll never forget the look on his adorable face,” giggles Robin. “I’ve rarely seen him look so proud as he did back then.”

You picture a starry-eyed, baby-faced Sunday, a far cry from the dignified and solemn image of the Family head and giggle along. Robin’s eyes glint conspiratorially as she divulges for a moment to show you his baby photos on her phone. Here, you learn that he has a massive sweet tooth and that the dentist was his worst nightmare as a child.

When she sets her phone back down, there’s still that joy in her eyes that only comes from discussing her brother.

“When I went off to university, Sunday continued to show that same level of care, even with his ever-increasing responsibilities. He never missed a concert, never missed a call, and never failed to send me care packages when I needed them the most. However, he faced scorn from other Family members for my career choices when he was still a leader-in-training and lacked the grace to handle such situations.”

The joy falls from her eyes and her smile slips a bit. Her wings droop even lower this time.

“Looking back, it must’ve been unimaginably hard on him. Not only was he worrying about how to lead The Family, but was also worrying nonstop about me. He must’ve been so stressed… But if I try to bring it up to him and apologize, he won’t give me the chance to.”

Robin lets out a forced laugh. You sip your tea and pretend to be very occupied with your notes, giving her a moment to collect herself before she moves on.

“After I graduated, my fame steadily increased until it skyrocketed after I released two singles- ‘If I Can Stop One Heart From Breaking’ and ‘On That Most Beautiful Day’. I still remember waking up and seeing they had jumped to the top of the charts across the cosmos almost overnight and stayed there for ages. My manager was overjoyed and I could hardly believe it. It felt as if all my hard work and everyone’s sacrifices had finally paid off. I was no longer Robin the budding singer and little sister, but Robin the cosmic songstress now… it was a bit bittersweet, I’ll admit.”

She fiddles with a strand of hair.

“As you may be aware, around this time I decided to take a break and devote my time to philanthropic work instead, much to the confusion of everyone.”

She shows you the photos she took during that time. Her standing in front of schools she had helped rebuild with, singing to a crowd of shell-shocked soldiers, holding up scores that would’ve been lost to time if not for her efforts, teaching children how to sing, and more.

“I won’t deny that I was purposefully putting myself in dangerous situations. But to me, it was worth the risk. If I could save one child, provide an education for a child the way The Family provided one to me, or inspire someone to pursue their passion regardless of the obstacles standing in the way… then it would’ve all been worth it. Even this.”

She removes the violet collar around her neck and points to a spot on her neck. It’s a patch of skin lighter than the surrounding area and you realize it’s scar tissue.

“I was shot during this time,” she gingerly says as she fastens the collar around her neck again. It’s then you realize that you’ve never seen Robin without something covering her neck. A scarf, furs, necklaces, there’s always something there. “This is something that only my brother and the late head of the Oak Family know about. The bullet had just barely missed my vocal chords. I made a full recovery, but I was terrified for a long time after that. Still, I found the strength to keep going and thanked Xipe every night that I had survived with my voice unscathed.”

You’re writing notes down furiously, and Robin pauses to give you some time. When you’ve jotted down all your ideas, you look down at the page and frown. Your notepad looks like a mess right now. Ruined childhood: strawberry, sugar, praline, bubble gum, cotton candy, violet, datura(????). War: BLOOD, GUNPOWDER, leather, smoke, pomegranate, METALLIC NOTES, animal notes. Stardom: marshmallow, cake, rose, raspberry, vanilla, caramel, amber, almond, SoulGlad (what does it even smell like…? ) MAGNOLIA, jasmine. Brother: sandalwood, lavender(??? Might throw everything off), skin.

“Um… this fragrance won’t exactly be wearable. Would you like for me to-”

“I don’t care about wearability. I have too many pleasant-smelling perfumes. Show me artistry,” she demands.

You feel the familiar thrill of excitement run through you that comes with having free reign to do whatever you want without your client getting pissed.

You can tell you’re nearing the end now when Robin moves onto her brother and his fate after recent events. Now this, you know of, but you were surprised by how big of a role Robin played in toppling his plans. Faking her death, using the power of the Harmony to unite everyone under a song to lead the fight against him, striking a deal with a crafty IPC businesswoman, and for it all to have been successful. Or well, as successful as a plan of this magnitude can be.

You realize this little bird is just as cunning as her brother, even if she doesn’t look the part. They really do share the same blood.

“I love my brother, I really do. He has a bleeding heart and hates to see those around him struggle. Of all the decisions he could’ve made in a position of power, choosing to protect people from suffering was one of the best. However, the way he went about it… I just couldn’t let myself turn a blind eye and do nothing simply because he was my brother. By trapping everyone within a dream to form a collective Order… that’s no way to live.”

She bunches her hands into fists.

“This is something that we’ve disagreed on for years. He wants to shoulder humanity’s pain and give them an idyllic, painless life where no one has to think no matter the cost, whereas I believe that although pain is an unavoidable part of living, people are more than strong enough to push through that pain and make it something worthwhile. Take me, for instance!”

She suddenly stands up. There’s a blazing conviction in her eyes that makes you flinch a bit. Her fingers are splayed out across your desk as she leans forward.

“I sacrificed so much to pursue my dream of becoming a singer- time, money, energy, and blood! Sunday doesn’t know this, but I’d cry myself to sleep many nights during university, wondering if I could even make it in this field overcrowded with talent. What if I couldn’t? I have no other skills and I’d be forced to rely on him, which as much as I love him, I don’t want. I don’t want everything handed to me on a silver platter just because of his position! And he knows this! He knows of the impossibly high standards I hold myself to!”

Robin takes a deep, shuddering breath to calm herself. Reign it in. The Harmony preaches unity, not dissonant outbursts. But it doesn’t work. She hasn’t felt this angry in a long time. Or perhaps it’s all the repressed emotions finally bursting forth after suppressing them beneath the smile she always has on.

“Let it all out. You deserve to.”

She doesn’t need to be told twice.

“I get that we’re siblings and that we’re always going to disagree, especially on something as subjective as our beliefs in humanity but how is he not only blind, but also deaf with his eyes and ears everywhere? He’s seen the lengths I’d go to, all in the name of music. He was one of the first to receive the news that I’d been shot, but did that dampen my resolve at all? No! If anything, it only encouraged me even more! It was all so painful, but it was all so necessary and worth it in the end. In fact, if you told me to experience all that pain again because it would push me closer to that envisioned ideal world, then I would dive in headfirst without hesitation! And dare I say who does Sunday think he is?” she exclaims, her voice steadily rising. “His ideals are a reflection of himself. Is he saying that he doesn’t believe his sacrifices- my sacrifices- to have been worthwhile because according to him, I could’ve gotten here without even lifting a finger? Don’t even give me that! That’s not a life worth living at all!!”

Robin deflates and flops back into her chair as if a balloon had suddenly popped. Those are all the words she wishes she could’ve said during their heated arguments as of late, but will never get to. At least someone finally heard her anger, as ugly as it may have sounded.

“I’m surprised he even thought you’d be willing to listen to his plans,” you gently comment after refilling her teacup. The warm liquid soothes her throat on the way down and she finds that she’s able to speak again after a few sips. She shakes her head in response. She barely has the energy to even move right now.

“No, he knew I wouldn’t even hear him out. That’s why he kept his true motives concealed for the longest time. Someone else actually figured it out first by reading deep into his words. Were it not for him, we’d be in a very different situation right now. What was his name again…? Ah, I can’t remember…”

Robin sighs. Her head rolls back to look out the window.

“Like how birds must learn to fly even if it means tumbling from the nest or encountering a dangerous predator, so too must people face hardship and struggle against the odds. Only then will a bird be able to freely spread its wings and will people see the world of possibility ahead of them,” she quietly whispers, voice hoarse from her earlier outburst.

A heavy silence sinks into the room. Robin looks down and fiddles with her hands. You stare blankly at your notepad, her words echoing in your mind.

Her phone breaks the silence by suddenly going off. Robin picks it up and sighs when she sees the caller ID.

“I have to go now. Security’s calling and messaging me in a panic since I snuck out without them knowing.”

She gathers her belongings in a hurry and checks her appearance before leaving to ensure she’s as flawless as always.

“Before you go, why did you decide to commission me to create a perfume for you?”

She stops just short of leaving and looks over her shoulder.

“I’ve long since heard of your artistic flair and your ability to tell lifelong stories through scent alone.”

“And what is your reason for being fine with receiving an utterly repulsive perfume, even if it’s the pinnacle of artistry?”

She goes silent for a few moments as she thinks.

“I suppose… It's to remind myself of just how far I’ve come and how much work I still have left to do to achieve that wish of mine. That wish is why I sing.”

And she’s gone. You lean back in your chair and sip your tea. Her half-empty cup sits across from you with a pink lipstick mark left on the rim. An open-ended perfume, huh? Most perfumes that are meant to reflect a client’s life story are in reality meant to encapsulate one perfect moment that they wish to relive every time they uncap the bottle. But to create a perfume for a singer of such renown that’s not only meant to reflect her past, but also her boundless future that carries years’ worth of hope and aspirations…

You flip open your notepad again and add another section. Conviction: pink pepper, saffron, musk, cloves, tonka bean, chocolate.

After stretching, you get up and head to the lab next door. It’ll be a challenge, but one you think you’re now equipped to handle.

For the next few weeks, it’s all you focus on. The exclusive interview and your audio recordings of your time with her loop on repeat for hours on end as you go back and forth between the lab and the drawing board. Accords are scrapped and tweaked or even tossed out the window to fit the vision in your mind as it changes by the day. Soon, it looks like a tornado went through your lab with every bit of counter space covered with labeled bottles and lab equipment. Bottles of SoulGlad are shipped to your door as you attempt to replicate the scent as closely as possible. Dozens, if not hundred, of attempts are made before the scent is indistinguishable from the original.

Yeri and Aika are enjoying the free soda, but you notice they’re sleepier than usual and it’s only then you remember that SoulGlad is an effective sleep aid too. Dammit.

Robin is always quick to respond to the updates you give her as well, despite her busy schedule. From when the custom bottle arrived to when you finally perfected the scent of SoulGlad, she always sends words of encouragement your way, as well as expressing her excitement over seeing the finished product slowly come together. She always sends a cute sticker or two at the end of each message as well.

Several months later and after a final all-nighter for the finishing touches, it’s finally complete. You text Robin that it’s ready for pickup before you go to sleep and the next morning, she’s already outside the door, waiting for you to open. It seems she wasn’t able to sneak out this time, as she’s flanked by two security guards.

“Good morning. You’re here early,” you greet as you unlock the door.

“I couldn’t sleep since I was so excited,” she admits as she watches you go about setting up the store for the day. The lights are flicked on, air purifiers are turned on, and you motion for her to follow you back into the office. Her two security guards start to follow her, but Robin gives them a look that tells them to stay put.

You disappear into the lab next door to return with a white box tied with a pink ribbon. The office door locks behind you and she feels a thrill of excitement run through her at what’s to come. With a light tug, the ribbon comes undone and you remove the lid to reveal an iridescent bottle that scatters the early morning light peeking through the blinds into rainbow-colored fractals. It was carved and blown to look like a bird taking flight (you distantly recall the exact species to be a Charmony Dove. Her request.) and the bottle cap resembled her halo. The curved golden metal is polished to perfection and little flowers are attached to the ends.

“It’s already a work of art,” she marvels as she gingerly lifts it out of the velvet-lined box and holds it up, admiring the workmanship from all angles. Without any further hesitation, she takes off her glove and sprays it onto her exposed wrist.

Robin’s eyes widen in delight at the first whiff. It’s a gourmand, sugary delight. Bubblegum, cotton candy, praline and raspberry practically dance on the tip of her tongue and she almost wants to take a bite out of her own arm because of how good it smells. There’s a floral aspect too with a strong violet note coming through. Blood orange and lemon pierce through the overwhelming sweetness, the astringency of the two fruits preventing her nose from becoming overwhelmed. She inhales again and sighs in bliss. Like her brother, she has a sweet tooth and finds this perfume to be temptingly delicious. It also reminds her of a dessert she had a long time ago. Strange, she can’t quite remember the taste or name of it… It must’ve been a dessert she and her brother enjoyed when they were children then.

The scent composition is beginning to change now. Robin inhales again, but this time her eyes fly wide open and her nose scrunches up in a mix of disbelief and disgust. The delicious fruits, which previously smelled juicy and ripe, are now overripe. They’re cloyingly sweet now, with the unmistakable odor of something rotting that makes her feel nauseous. There’s a weird, musty odor now that she attributes to the flowers in the scent decaying. It smells awful now. Revolting. Robin wouldn’t be caught dead out in public wearing this, but it was never meant to be wearable or for the public to smell it anyway. She paid for artistry, and she got it.

“Oh, Aeons,” she whispers as the scent changes even more. It went from bad to worse to horrible. The sugary sweet and floral aspects are still there, but there’s something new that emerges. It smells like war, she realizes. There’s the unmistakable stench of iron- blood- and metal. Smoke and gunpowder waft up from somewhere within and her hand flies to her neck, right above where the gunshot wound scar is. The dull pain from the gunshot throbs. Robin isn’t sure if it’s actually hurting again or if it’s her mind playing tricks on her. The blunt pain spreads across her throat and she feels a strange chill rippling out from the wound to the rest of her body. She shudders violently.

A moment passes. Then another. It starts off as a faint tingle before escalating into a searing pain that paralyzes her. She feels like her vocal chords are on fire now. Her hands fly to her throat. Burning, twisting, and eating away at the bands of muscle that give life and hope to so many, including her. She cries out for help, but nothing comes out except for a scratchy version of the plea and a hot, wet gurgling sound that she recognizes as blood dribbling out of the wound- though the sound is muffled as if someone has shoved cotton into her ears.

Robin feels something wet staining the fibers of her gloves and she looks down to see a deep red seeping into the silk and spreading until it covers her entire hand. It’s her own wet blood, still hot to the touch and she reaches up to the back of her throat where the bullet exited. Blood trickles down her back from the ruptured flesh and she gingerly presses a finger to the wound. It doesn’t hurt, strangely. Or maybe the pain is just overwhelming her senses to the point where she’s become numb. This doesn’t feel real. Nothing feels real.

It’s as if someone forcefully shook her awake from a nightmare. Her pupils are blown wide and hair is plastered to the sides of her head and forehead from being drenched in a cold sweat. Her hands are still around her throat. The gunshot wound has long since healed. Her vocal cords are unscathed. Robin slowly peels her hands away and looks down. Her silk gloves are pristine.

It was just a memory. A far too vivid one, though.

You pass her a bottle of water and she eagerly takes it, chugging it in record time as she recovers. Robin thinks back to your notepad amidst the horrible memories of war that resurface. Spoiled childhood. War. You really hit the nail on the head. Truly, your storytelling ability through scent alone was unparalleled. Case in point: cake and something berry-like are present- pomegranate, maybe?- but they smell expired and rotted, like they’ve been trampled underfoot while fleeing in a panic. How did you pull it off?

“So, what do you think?” you ask as she waits for the base notes to emerge.

“Disgusting. And horrifying.”

You both laugh in unison.

“Then that means a job well done.”

The memory of war fades and something more neutral emerges. A sweet vanilla, one of her favorite scents, with woody notes. She immediately recognizes sandalwood. Sunday. It’s a favorite of his. There’s a nutty smell that emerges and she thinks of her brother again. One of Sunday’s favorite desserts was one topped with almonds and drizzled with syrup. This almond leans more bitter instead of warm and toasted, but the similarities are still there. Sticky caramel is present. Sunday loves those little caramel candies that practically melt in his mouth, she thinks. I should pick some up for him next time I go back.

Oh wait. I can’t go home now. I almost forgot, he’s not there anymore.

It smells like her brother now, and her heart aches. Will she ever be able to see him again? Strange. You’ve never met Sunday before- at least that’s what she thinks. How did you get his scent down almost perfectly then? But there’s also a surprisingly spicy kick in there that isn’t reminiscent of him. She likes it though.

She swallows down the lump in her throat and clutches the bottle tighter.

“Thank you,” she whispers. You simply nod. There’s nothing else that needs to be said.

She collects herself before leaving. It’s now approaching afternoon and there’s more people on the streets now. They stop for a double take when they realize it’s Robin, eyes going wide and jaw going slack. Whispers follow her, she sees phones being pulled out and soon, she’s surrounded by fans asking for a photo or an autograph, despite her security’s efforts. She’s used to this by now- mindlessly signing objects and donning the same smile every time for photographs. Robin the graceful, Robin the elegant, Robin the cosmic songstress who always looks flawless no matter what.

But as the last of the fans run off and as she’s sitting in the back of her chauffeured vehicle, heading to the next item on the agenda, she finds herself wondering if there’s even more she can still do. The bag with your store’s logo on it tempts her and she lifts the box out, unwrapping it again to admire the bottle. She won’t spray it- she’s not subjecting her poor security guards and chauffeur to that smell- but she finds herself thinking back on the same questions she’s always asked herself.

Why do birds fly? Does my song serve any purpose?

She thinks these are questions she’ll spend a lifetime chasing the answers to. Realistically, Robin knows she won’t ever arrive at one. She’s no philosopher, but how many times has the former been asked? And as for the latter… that’s a subjective one that’s up to her to decide.

But her song saved her brother in the end. And that’s more than enough for her.

PERUME NOTES:

TOP: strawberry, sugar, praline, bubble gum, cotton candy, raspberry, lemon, blood orange, violet, black elderberry, datura, soulglad (I hc it to smell like coca-cola)

MIDDLE: blood, leather, gunpowder, smoke, rose, pomegranate, incense, cake, metallic notes, marshmallow, magnolia, jasmine

BASE: vanilla, skin, bitter almond, caramel, amber, sandalwood, chocolate, tonka bean, cloves, saffron, pink pepper

INSPIRATION: Toskovat Age of Innocence, Toskovat Curtain Call, Toskovat Born Screaming, Ariana Grande Sweet Like Candy, Juicy Couture Viva La Juicy, Lattafa Yara

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