hotline

You knock once or twice on the big white door, the kind that promises something beyond a measly, high-end hotel room.

The only thing to get you here in the first place was a text needing no extra thought: 

still left me out to dry, i see how it is :// <3 🍑

–

Granted, it’s been a few days after the message.

God forbid the efforts to come crawling back to her would make anyone insane for that matter - considering the occasion she was at and the amount of prestige it carried. 

The wonders of fashion shows: glamorous in all its might; the kind that would put her on the map. 

When that door swings in, she doesn’t really need any further introduction:

“Kept ya waiting?” asks Momo, hand sliding up the frame and flaunting an elbow on her hip. Taking her downtime to the usual standard of Hirai Momo she stunningly owns you know all too well. That trademark head tilt and simple smirk -  a small telltale of which you wonder if the sun should’ve stayed along the horizon just a little longer for someone like her. 

“Please,” you say, following her in as she walks backwards, eyes trained well on your stature. Attentive-  too attentive. As if  she wants something. “If I really despised your guts, you’d have a restraining order from me already.” 

“Yet here you are,” she replies, letting you fill the opening in front. A familiar proximity you catch yourself in with not just her - but with Dahyun, Sana, Tzuyu, and freaking Jihyo of all people at times. There’s a pattern to be drawn in this. Somehow you haven’t sensed it yet. 

“Here I am,” you repeat. And that’s the usual track, unfortunately. From every angle, you’re recalling the recent escapades you’ve done with her. How the lingering thought of omitting any idea of her from your mind was forever the impossibility. You’re keeping it slightly professional with your hands behind your back, the posture upright. 

“I’m in a sour mood with you,” Momo then says, swiveling her body into the wider space of the hotel room - a recurring solitude that’s considered one of her many homes. “Hanging me out just because you’re a little scared? What’s Dahyun gonna do? Dismember me?” 

“You’ve seen her angry,” you laugh, settling your bearings and sitting on the edge of her bed. “Trust me, I’ve had to do a lot so she wouldn’t kill you instead.” 

“So what? It’s not like you’re being put on trial - having a little fun. Get a little scandalous from time to time.” 

“Momo-” 

She laughs, fingernail to her lip. The neat pink and white robe she’s wearing is molding to her figure. Especially with the “V” neck cut: it does everything to exemplify her tits. 

“I’m just saying,” and there’s a hush in her tone, once the space at your lower half is filled by her legs. Again, you’ve seen her build multiple times - more than you would like to count or admit - how the details can be noticed on her waist, her ass, the flawless proportions where you’ve bent and mangled until she’s a mix of an unapologetic, screaming mess begging to be belittled in all the ways you adore and love. Her hands dance on your shoulders, twiddling on the small hairs on your neck. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, coming to me behind your girlfriend’s back. Remind me again: Was it- hm, girlfriend? Fiancé? Or- here I thought you’ve asked the golden question to her-” 

“Good things come with time,” you say. To that, Momo rolls her eyes. She’s smirking at the loose sentence - since she knows her word will be more superior to yours. 

“You could say the same thing about your cock,” she then says, fiddling with the bow at her middle. “That and your charm- I mean, seriously. I’m jealous of Dahyun sometimes. How she’s managed to keep you all to herself.” 

“I could propose that we have an intervention together.” Your expression lights up slightly when you look up, full of Momo’s star-studded, sly gaze, the dreamy lashes she bashes over yours that really shine when she’s glowing in the low lights. The illuminating ambience of yellow and orange mixed in the background. In the late hours of the evening above the busy streets and meeting atop the clouds. “Talk about the many, many issues you and I have going on. One where we draw the line of who gets the final say; one’s word over the others.” 

Momo pouts at that, defeated. Or at least that’s what she wants you to think. “Not even gonna let me persuade you into changing your mind?” 

“Depends.” You’re lazily holding her ass, probably on purpose. Every move from this point on won’t be managed by your words. Now that your mind is made up and there’s nothing left to say. “What’s in it for me?” 

She unties the ribbon of her robe, and lets it fall onto the floor. 

There’s a lot of questions as to why you did what you did - why you keep doing it. Why you spend a good amount of your schedule doing the devil’s work with every sin committed enough to place you at the top of his list. She’s partly the reason you’ve been in this position over and over and over. A recurrence of the sweet libations offered by her are an addiction of their own. Her words are one thing. Her body- 

(Well, let’s just say that the company knew what they were doing when she flew out to do this gig.) 

She’s coated in grey with leopard prints canvasing the fabric. Most of the seams are at the right tightness that forms her silhouette in curves you didn’t think were possible. You note the second layer beneath and a nice contrast of that fluffy pink bra on her chest - where the small gems were neatly placed and the pendant is buried right at her cleavage. 

Oh, she’s model material for sure. There’s no denying that. You don’t need to think back on all the brands proffering for her signature. The selling point was pretty much the given factor. 

You’re no different than any other person cordially invited to fashion week. With the observing eyes showing and the parted mouth as a plus. 

Momo looks the part: the fuckable girl everybody wants. 

Though, you’re a cut above the rest, because you’re the only one who knows her well. 

(How much she likes it when you fuck her rough, pull her hair back and into the mattress, pin her arms on the wall trying to brace the impact of your cock pushing up her cunt; disregard her for anything else. A personal toy for your own disposal. The late night booty call you’ll always make time for. The girl who’ll match beat for beat at everything you dish out. She knows no matter how hard you try, there’s a piece of you that belongs to her.)

“Well?” asks Momo, wiggling her body in your hands. “Any first impressions?” 

“I’ve got a lot on my mind,” you say, enamored, tapping the groove on beneath her bottom by reflex. “Like they really didn’t have to capitalize on your ass like this-” 

“Bless the stylists,” she replies, lowering herself slightly so only your eyes are full of her cleavage. “Bonus goes to the cameras for getting the angles right.” 

“Now I’m starting to wonder-” 

“How could a wonderful girl like me be able to pull off a look like this?” Momo laughs, cradling your head as you breathe her tits in. A terrible habit, but it’s a natural instinct given the features. “I mean- Jihyo fits hers very well. And if you think back to Nayeon’s Louis Vuitton towel-” 

“I can go down the list over and over,” you say with a palm between her legs, pressing roughly; she seethes. “Though, I’m off the clock currently.” 

“I figured, but-” she chuckles, reaching over for her phone while you observe her movements. 

The screen lights up, eyes darting up and down with record pace. A part of you assumes that she’s sending a message to one of the other girls you work with as a way to stir the pot and spice up the competition- maybe. Yet her lip-biting grin is impossible to interpret. 

“-thought I might show you this.” 

For a better lack of response: you’re just left speechless.

Then, you helplessly look up as she wiggles the phone in her hand, eyes and mouth sharing the same smirk. “Awwww. What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?!”

“I’ve been reduced to staring at this point.” 

“As you should,” says Momo, beaming with victory. “Haven’t you been getting my texts?” 

“You’re aware of my policy when I’m working: permanently on do not disturb.” 

By punishment: Momo lays claim at the scene of the crime with her lips. Normally, she would bend to your will, take her time; usually, that’s not her style, but that soft side is an exclusivity on days where she can let her walls crumble for a rare moment. Her lips are always sweet, carrying the kind of kisses that would sweep anyone off their feet or rewire their brain. Though, there’s a sense of urgency behind this, as if it was something long overdue. 

Her arms slither around your neck, straddling your thigh. You hold her close with one arm while the other acts as a support behind you, leaning back. 

She smiles into it, taking ownership. You try to utter a response but it’s swallowed down your throat and her fingers claw deep into the scalp. There’s only one way where this was going: one of you is going to be ruined by the other. 

Momo pulls your lip - a slight pinch with her teeth, and your hand shoots for her hip as a sign of restraint. Drawing back with lidded eyes; the gentle swipe of her tongue, savoring the taste. The grasp of your fingers doesn’t faze her at all. 

“Holding yourself back, are we?” She asks, fanning her breath across your sloping cheek. Ghosting your head while her arms press inward - pushing up her tits. “I thought you were able to handle this-” 

“Your questions aren’t gonna flatter me, sweetheart.”