MASTERLIST
𝟏𝟖+; 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒐𝒓𝒔, 𝑫𝒐 𝑵𝒐𝒕 𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕.
₊⋆ ☾ ⊹₊ ⋆.-₊⋆ ☾ ⊹₊ ⋆.-₊⋆ ☾ ⊹₊ ⋆.-₊⋆ ☾ ⊹₊ ⋆.-₊⋆ ☾ ⊹₊ ⋆.-₊⋆ ☾ ⊹₊ ⋆.-
i don't do bad sauce passes
One Nice Bug Per Day
Monterey Bay Aquarium
hello vonnie
🪼

⁂
sheepfilms

祝日 / Permanent Vacation

blake kathryn

if i look back, i am lost
Today's Document
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
Game of Thrones Daily
d e v o n

No title available
Peter Solarz
Xuebing Du

izzy's playlists!
occasionally subtle

★

seen from Malaysia
seen from China
seen from Germany

seen from Malaysia

seen from Poland

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States

seen from Canada
seen from Pakistan

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Canada

seen from Italy
seen from Malaysia
seen from Bolivia

seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Hong Kong SAR China
@flothunderstorms
MASTERLIST
𝟏𝟖+; 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒐𝒓𝒔, 𝑫𝒐 𝑵𝒐𝒕 𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕.
₊⋆ ☾ ⊹₊ ⋆.-₊⋆ ☾ ⊹₊ ⋆.-₊⋆ ☾ ⊹₊ ⋆.-₊⋆ ☾ ⊹₊ ⋆.-₊⋆ ☾ ⊹₊ ⋆.-₊⋆ ☾ ⊹₊ ⋆.-
𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒 — (𝘼𝙡𝙚𝙭 𝙏𝙪𝙧𝙣𝙚𝙧)
⊹ 𝑨𝒓𝒆𝒏’𝒕 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑮𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑻𝒐 𝑳𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝑴𝒆?
⊹ 𝑭𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝑩𝒂𝒏𝒅
⊹ 𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝑩𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑻𝒂𝒌𝒆
⊹ 𝑨𝒍𝒍 𝑩𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝑵𝒐 𝑩𝒊𝒕𝒆
⊹ 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒓 𝑻𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕
⊹ 𝑴𝒐𝒏 𝑳𝒂𝒑𝒊𝒏 — (𝙃𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙎𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙖𝙡)
⊹ 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒄𝒌
⊹ 𝑰𝒕’𝒔 𝑹𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑴𝒆𝒏
⊹ 𝑯𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒚 𝑹𝒖𝒏𝒔 𝑳𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝑾𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓
𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒 — (𝙇𝙞𝙖𝙢 𝙂𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙖𝙜𝙝𝙚𝙧)
⊹ 𝑻𝒂𝒍𝒌 𝑻𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕
𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒 — (𝙉𝙤𝙚𝙡 𝙂𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙖𝙜𝙝𝙚𝙧)
⊹ 𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒀𝒐𝒖
𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 — (𝘼𝙡𝙚𝙭 𝙏𝙪𝙧𝙣𝙚𝙧)
⊹ 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑩𝒆𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑶𝒇 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑬𝒏𝒅 — (𝙎𝙀𝙍𝙄𝙀𝙎 𝙈𝘼𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏)
𝐺𝑜𝑙𝑑𝑒𝑛 𝑇𝑟𝑢𝑛𝑘𝑠
𝑊𝘩𝑦’𝑑 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝛰𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝐶𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑀𝑒 𝑊𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝑌𝑜𝑢’𝑟𝑒 𝐻𝑖𝑔𝘩?
𝐴𝑤𝑘𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑙𝑦 𝑆𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑐𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑌𝑎𝑤𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔
𝑇𝘩𝑒 𝑈𝑙𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑐𝘩𝑒𝑒𝑠𝑒
⊹ 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑾𝒆𝒆𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝑹𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒔 — (𝙎𝙊𝙊𝙉)
𝘼 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪’𝙡𝙡 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙨. 𝙒𝘼𝙏𝘾𝙃 𝙉𝙊𝙒.
LOVESTRUCK
𝑰’𝒅 𝒃𝒆 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅.
𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
Warnings: Fluff and yearning.
Word Count: 3.2k
Pitter-patter. Drip-drop. Pat-a-tat.
I have been staring at every droplet that lands over this thick transparent window glass of this lonely hotel room I have been staying in for a month for almost an hour now.
I am patiently waiting for the clock to strike at exactly 12 o’ clock noon so I can finally go out.
To go see you.
As soon as the two hands of the clock lined up in one direction pointing north, I sprang up on my bed like an excited little kid who had just woken up on Christmas Day. I pick up my wallet and glasses before closing the door and heading to the lift.
It’s New York and it’s always jacked up. I have gotten used to the busy streets of ‘The Big Apple’ which is greatly far different from what I am used to—which is back in Sheffield. I walk as fast as I could as it seems like everyone here is on the run, always rushing, and I’d often get stares and comments if I walk slowly or at my normal pace, that is why my two legs tries to walk as fast as it could without looking like I am going for a jog as I head to the direction I am aiming for.
One month residency in Madison Square Garden is the reason why I have been here. It is the last week of the residency and we are filming it for a “special concert performance” we are supposed to release by the end of the year, as our manager says because that is what most artists do these days.
I find it that I do not do well with recording performances professionally as I can get self-conscious if there are big arse cameras recording my every move coupled with how I must do everything perfectly otherwise the performance would trend on every social media sites, not because it was a good one, but because I would become a laughingstock in the music industry. I have to keep in mind that I am not just being recorded by a small rectangular device the people in the crowd have and uploading it on social media. That there are professional cameras and it can be viewed by many people online clearly.
I grimaced as I accidentally stepped on a puddle of mud and some splash hit my jeans, making me groan in annoyance.
Why am I so clumsy?
I heaved a heavy sigh, shoulders slumping as I had to physically drag my whole body down the road as I went down and walked on the same familiar destination I have been going to for days now.
Cherry’s Coffee Shop.
And there you are..
God, It might seem strange… You don't even know my name, but I've been watching you for days—sitting in the same corner table of the same cafe.
You look so pretty wearing a pink floral sundress right now, hair in a bun on top of your head, and a pout forming your pink lips as you read what is in front of you, on your laptop, and let out a small sigh at whatever you have your focus on. Your trusty leather trench coat is sitting at the back of your chair and a cream tote bag sitting on the floor of this busy cafe. There is an unfinished plate of pasta on your left and a cappuccino (what you always order) at your right, which is scarily near your keyboard that makes me hold my breath every time you drag your hand above your laptop.
Your stare is intensely focused on the screen and it always makes me wonder and leave me intrigued as to what could have possibly been what you have been working on for days.
Are you a writer? Are you a teacher? Are you a tattoo sketch artist? Are you fighting people online?
Are you single?
I sound like a total weirdo, ain’t I?
I walked to the counter and ordered the same English Breakfast tea that they have, the only decent tea they have on the menu. As soon as I picked up my drink, I pushed my sunglasses up on my nose, walking slowly to find a spot where I can sit with my thoughts for the next 30 minutes, which is the farthest from you because I do not want to look like a creep.
But it is so busy today and the only available seat is next to your table.
I swallowed nervously, debating if I should just leave or not, but then a staff member suddenly directed me to sit on the only available vacant table.
I try to look at anything else but you. I hold my breath as I cautiously sit, settling my drink on the small table. I do not think you even notice my presence as you are completely engrossed with what you are doing. I slouched down the table, resting my elbows on top of it. I bring out my phone as I have nothing to do, sipping my hot tea as I aimlessly scroll through my emails.
I could feel your warmth radiating off of you and I could see from the corner of my eye as you type relentlessly on your laptop that your nose has been buried in every day in this same cafe.
What have you been doing these days, peach?
I bite my tongue as my mind just called you a pet name I have not even dared to call on anyone. Why am I being a sappy romantic guy all of a sudden over a stupid small crush he has on a stranger? Have I been taken back as a high school kid?
Get a grip, Turner.
My heart starts to beat calmly as I memorise everything on your table:
Your white AirPods case.
The thick green book with a pen that serves as a bookmark.
Your usual coffee order.
There is a cookie I just noticed hiding under the plate of pasta still half eaten.
A plate of peach on the side—that maybe why I have called you one earlier.
A small bouquet of red roses with petals scattered around the table as I notice you pluck them out as you watch whatever is playing on your laptop seemingly anxiously and it seems like you haven't realised you are doing it.
I could hear every sound in the cafe but the most distinct that sings in my ear is you.
I heard 'Wonderwall' bleeding through your headphones.
I angled my body to watch you, seeing you swaying your head lightly from side to side, your mouth forming to sing the lyrics of a song from Oasis.
And all the roads that lead you there were winding
And all the lights that light the way are blinding
There are many things that I would like to say to you
But I don't know how
You smiled shyly and looked down hoping no one noticed and no one really would have noticed you got the words wrong if I am not observing your every move.
The later verse uses “And all the lights that light the way are blinding” but you sang the first verse, “And all the lights that lead us there are blinding.”
Bloody hell, peach, you cracked a little smile when you got the words wrong—that made me smile too.
But you continued singing.
And so did I.
I said maybe
You're gonna be the one that saves me
And after all
You're my Wonderwall
I have not listened to that song in a long time, maybe it is time to get back on British Pop.
With a last sip, I finally finished my tea. That is my cue to go back to my hotel room.
I silently got up and left, making as little noise as possible so as not to draw any unwarranted attention on me.
Later that afternoon and just right before the sun goes down, we finally arrived at Madison Square Garden and our first order of business as usual: Soundcheck.
Just before we made our way on stage, our manager went to our shared dressing room—with a lady trailing behind him shyly.
“Alex, Jamie, Nick, and Matt get your arses over here! I’m gonna introduce you now to your directing crew,” Rick, our manager, clapped his hands hurriedly as he caught the attention of the band in the room.
I rolled my eyes playfully and walked over, Matt swinging an arm on my shoulder.
“How old do you wanna bet this director is gonna be, aye?” Matt whispers teasingly and nudges my ribs, making me laugh and push him away.
“Maybe some Hollywood director that retired from making A-List movies.”
Matt laughed as Jamie and Nick looked at us in confusion, wanting to be in the conversation we just had. Rick finally breathed a sigh of relief before going on and on as to the qualifications of our new director for this tour recording, but my eyes are not listening to a word he is saying because it seems like the breath got knocked off my chest as soon as the shy figure stepped beside our manager and saw her.
You.
My eyes widened out of its sockets and it must have looked like it was straight out of the cartoons. My heart starts to beat faster than a formula one race car. My knees threaten to weaken and I am unable to support my weight.
You are wearing the same red sundress from the coffee shop earlier, but minus the glasses that I could see how clear and breath-taking your eyes even from within the distance.
I stopped completely in my tracks and maybe even breathing that made Jamie look at me funny with the expression “you good?”
Finally, for the first time ever since I saw you sitting in the corner of that same damn coffee shop—our eyes met.
You offered me a knowing smirk before breaking our gaze and offering your hand to everyone in the room and introducing yourself to my other band mates.
And then there is you and me.
As soon as your name leaves your lips and my hand touches yours, it seems like I have been electrocuted from the inside and my body starts to heat up from the pool of feelings I cannot even pinpoint.
Oh Alex, you are lovestruck.
“Alex,” I whisper as an attempt to introduce myself.
“Alex,” she repeats back, with a teasing smile as she holds my gaze.
When you say my name I like the way it sounds.
“It’s nice to meet ya! I’m the head of the directing crew for recording your performances and all throughout this week. If I’m good, your manager might extend the job for the whole tour,” she giggles, elbowing Rick playfully to which the latter playfully messes her hair.
You are confident.
You walk with a purpose. You are smart. You lead everyone.
And here I am standing on the stage of the world’s most famous arena with a guitar strapped on my shoulder and sweat continuously building up at the back of my neck and on my palms that my guitar pick keeps on slipping up on my fingers.
Fuck, you’re so pretty.
“Okay, can you perform a song? I’ll see how it looks in the cameras we have set up” you said in your own microphone that echoes in the whole room.
Everyone looked at me in anticipation and I looked back in confusion.
“Alex, ready to go?” Matt from behind asks from his drum kit.
I swear I could face palm myself, because of course it is me who will give the cue whenever we start.
Finally meeting you has rearranged the insides of my brain… and maybe my heart.
I'm hung up. I'm shook up. I'm lovestruck.
I start the chords for “Leave Before The Lights Come On”, shaking my head to get in the zone.
I look up from my guitar pedal to see where you are: behind your big fancy camera, seated with your feet supporting you on the stool, and all I could think of is how I’d love to lay flowers at your feet.
Oh baby, I’d be everything you need.
It is usual for soundcheck to not sing—but what is not normal is to get the chords wrong as I play the song.
I feel everyone’s eyes on me, with confused expression, as my fingers play the wrong guitar chords again, and I finally snap back to reality.
“Oh my God! I’m so sorry, can we stop?” I embarrassedly whisper at my own microphone.
The others stopped playing as soon as I speak, some having worry now on their face as they know me to never commit any mistakes especially during soundchecks as I am meticulous when it comes to any sound my instruments emit.
You rushed to the stage, making me blink back at you and take back once again your beauty. Worry is etched on your cute face as well, soft pink lips forming a pout.
“I’m so sorry if the cameras are bothering you, Alex. I’ll try to place them where they will be hidden and you won’t notice,” you say in panic, already looking around how to adjust your equipment.
I quickly shake my head, cheeks heating up at the reason why I am suddenly acting like an amateur guitar player.
“No no it’s okay!” I assured her with my best smile. “Sorry, can we do another one? We’ll do another and you can tell us if you have a great shot of us?”
The second time’s a charm.
The next day, I don’t wanna go back because my heart is still beating out of my chest just at the thought of you. That is how hopelessly in ‘crush’ with you? Is that even a term?
However, my feet have a mind of their own and once again, I am standing there in the middle of Cherry’s Coffee Shop. And there you are—there you are!
Your eyes meet mine and you signalled me over to come join your little secluded corner you claimed as yours for the past several weeks,
God, Alex just ask her out and ask if she already had dinner plans.
I know you probably have a man—
But if you happen to be unattached…
Unfortunately, the words got caught out of my throat that time.
You suggested that we walk together to the venue.
Like yesterday, you proceeded to film some ‘candid moments’ during soundcheck to be included on the tour recording. You said the fans will be “singing along” at every word while they watch our footage messing around on stage during this soundcheck.
I'd sing your name over the airwaves.
That’s what I want to sing and do, do you even know that?
Again, I messed up a couple of chords, but I can say that I considerably still played better than yesterday.
I should really ask her out so my thoughts would not get jumbled—to stop from getting so distracted.
However, I made once again the mistake of looking up from my guitar pedal and over to your direction.
Damn, you are so beautiful.
As I play the last chorus, I watch like a talk while you talk with other crew members and confidently chat and smile with them. In turn, everyone around you smiles back right at you. Some of them whom I cannot even joke and tease about as they are all in business mode at all times, laugh and wait eagerly at every word you utter.
I'm trying to find a way to be worthy.
If not tonight, maybe tomorrow?
I'd wait all day, just for a maybe…
Okay, Alexander. Just ask her out!
At that moment, the adrenaline coursing in my veins from the soundcheck made me brave and finally go for it. I walked determinedly towards her direction and soon, people around the arena saw the action and stopped what they were doing, watching me intently at my every next move.
I must admit I’m pretty nervous.
I muster all my energy despite the nerves to offer you my most genuine and sincere smile, blinking rapidly like a new born baby deer as our gazes connect together.
“Hey, can I talk to you for a sec?” I squeak out and I want to smack myself for that.
Really? Shaky high pitched voice? Where’s the singing voice, Alex?
We went to a more secluded part of backstage where no other people were around.
We come to a halt and I just stupidly stare at her. Once again, just blinking like a baby deer caught in headlights. It seems like you got this spell and you got me enchanted without you even not knowing its effect nor doing anything about it.
Did my legs turn jello? I can’t feel the ground.
Oh my lord. Am I going to pass out?
I take a deep breath and watch you stare back at me without any emotions clouding your face. I bite my lip and finally, open my mouth like a fish out of water, speaking like a normal human being just asking a Goddess in front of him for a date.
“Well I just had to ask well you know if already had dinner plans well if you don’t maybe I mean if you want to I hope this is not—” I stammered pathetically and I was cut off by your soft giggles.
Jesus, you are smiling at me.
“Yes, Alex,” you announce. “Yes. I’d go with you. On a date. You can shut up now and kiss me.”
I was taken back from that. Did I hear you correctly?
“Really.”
That made you laugh out loud, finally, positive colours painting your face.
“Yes, really. Now, you wanna ask me out again properly or you wanna kiss me? I mean we can do the kiss part after dinner if you insist,” you tease, making my cheeks heat up with a peach coloured blush.
“No–I—yes? I mean I want to kiss you of course—”
To cut me off from rambling, she tiptoes to give me a quick peck on my lips that I was not completely expecting at all.
“You’re cute. Lurking on me every day in the same cafe. Staring at me and when I look back right at ‘ya, you shyly look away and mess up your words.”
Well you’re so pretty and I’m so shy.
“Okay. Pick you up? Tomorrow? Got a show tonight.”
You nod in excitement. “Good. Settled. Not nervous around me anymore tomorrow?”
I forced a chuckle at that, rubbing the back of my neck as the butterflies swirled around my stomach.
“Hard not to. You’re so beautiful,” I coo unintentionally.
You snorted cutely, head throwing back to a full on laughter.
“God, you’re so cute. Like a lovestruck puppy.”
I did not argue with that.
“Scratch your couch and sleep on the stairway,” I purse my mouth nodding, agreeing with the lovesick puppy comment.
You laugh.
“Now kiss me again, you fool.”
Hello! It has been so long, hasn’t it? 🥹🫣
Honestly, I lost some motivation to write properly but I want to go back to it again! I have LOTS of ideas written down on notes, just not enough time and inspiration to fully form it into pieces like this!
And you guessed it right! This is based off another song:
Lovestruck by The Vamps.
The bold phrases here are actually song lyrics from such song!
I have been obsessed with this song since it came out. I could say this is my teenage anthem and my teenage theme in life—a hopeless romantic.
This is something I would dedicate to a special someone <3.
Also, I have become obsessed with Oasis last year. It’s just cute that the song this was based on literally mentions Wonderwall by Oasis.
Once again: If you have something to say or ask or request—just reach out, please! 🩶
Vivons heureux, vivons cachés.
Happy New Year 🍀
“I am now sitting beside Noel, resting for a bit, as I let the others sing a couple of songs.
“You not singing?” I simply ask, trying to make a conversation with him.
“No.” He shortly answers.
“Not even ‘don’t look back in anger’?” I tease, a smile curling in my lips.
“Oh you’re so smart now eh?” He easily counters.
“Need a guitar?” I egg on.
“So now you wanna talk after being bloody ice cold like the North Pole for a week.”
That teasing smile dropped on my lips and silenced me effectively.”
2022 | anais’s dad
ᯓ★ you met anais during the first year of uni, at a pub. the two of you already drunk out of your minds, laughing and talking loudly as you two realized how much you have in common. it was an instant bond.
the fact that her dad was noel gallagher never really mattered that much to you. i mean, of course. it’s the noel gallagher. but from what she talked about him, and the way she was clearly brought up very well, you always made an effort to view him as a normal guy. who’s also a millionaire and one of the most influential musicians of all time, sure. but still, the dad of your friend.
you’d met noel a couple of times, he was a charmer, as usual. funny, always a good chat. and, unfortunately, incredibly sexy. frustratingly so. but again, you always made an effort to not let it show.
with anais living on her own, noel never cared too much about who her friends were, he’d only see them on her birthdays, sometimes big dinners and occasionally backstage of some gigs. and he was a dad like every other one after all: always forgetting their names. he had forgotten yours a couple of times, just remembering you as ‘anais’s pretty friend’. although there’s no harm in appreciating a younger girls beauty, that description could never see the light of day, for countless reasons. the most he’d ever do is have a laugh when her two younger brothers would joke about it, saying “she’s fit”. even harder when anais would roll her eyes. but he has always remained respectful.
you two had talked a couple of times during those events, but the night that stuck to him the most was after a dinner. noel had gotten freshly divorced, it wasn’t even out in the midia yet. he was a bit drunk when you all hugged your goodbyes, his fuzzy mind realizing how good you smelled and how you looked even better up close. well, i’m a fucking pervert. he thought. he was old enough to be your dad, for gods sake. not to mention you were his daughters friend.
but, unfortunately to noel’s mental state, he decided to call anais to let her know that she forgot her jacket. and she - a little tipsy too - tapped the button wrong and the call wasn’t turned off. and he could overhear the conversation:
you asked, curiously: “why wasn’t sara there?”
“oh, did i forget to tell you? they’ve split”
“fuuuck, really?”
“yeah. bit messy, too”
“fuck, that sucks. how are the boys?”
“think they’ve been handling it well, you know. what i’m really curious about is when he gets a girlfriend, how they’ll react”
“won’t be long”. he could hear the smile on your face as you said it.
anais laughs “hey!”
you laughed too: “what? cmon. i know he’s your dad but you have to be realistic. he’s kind of a catch”
“i mean, lots of gold diggers around, innit?”
you laugh. “that’s not all there is, anais”
“oh fuck off, are you implying my dad’s hot?”
you laugh “hey… i didn’t say that… explicitly”
anais laughs “god. don’t ever say that again”
“what? he is.”
he turned the call off. immediately.
ever since then, noel cursed his own existence every time anais would mention you. everytime she’d send a picture with you. he managed to play it cool though. specially when anais said she wanted to bring you and her boyfriend along for her birthday trip to spain.
“yeah, that’s fine”, he said, as nonchalant as possible. but deep down he let out the biggest sigh and ‘fuck me’ ever.
after the divorce, he didn’t mind behaving like a loner once in a while. so right now, instead of going out in spain - like the old days - he decided to stay at the big house he’d rented for all of you, drinking beer at the outdoor area, sneaking a cigarette even though he said he quit. sorting out some stuff about his upcoming album. he took the opportunity to do so since the younger ones had all gone out. at least that’s what he thought.
he groaned internally once he heard your soft “hey”, looking up at you a bit startled as you approached the couch he was sitting down. pretty thing. what a cunt.
“fuck sake. didn’t think anyone else was in. what are you doing here?”
(based on a request i received in my asks! thank you anon 💋)
I’m so tired pretending I wouldn’t drop everything to be with dilf Noel. The unholy thoughts that rushed on my mind when I read this—I need to go outside to touch some grass. I guess this is my Public Service Announcement that I’m gonna start writing about Noel Gallagher (based on this is the first agenda I have after I finish my finals exams).
MON LAPIN
𝑻𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝒐𝒓 𝑻𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕, 𝑴𝒚 𝑳𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝑩𝒖𝒏𝒏𝒚.
𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
Warnings: Mature Content.
Word Count: 2.1k
It was all because of the bunny tail.
Stumbling backwards, a giggle cuts through the air replaced by a sharp gasp. I clutched blindly at Alex’s chest, trusting him not to topple us over and fall into the ground as we made our way towards a more secluded area of the party.
Just two teenagers sneaking off in the bathroom for a quick shag, innit?
A particular suck on the neck brings me back to life, opening my eyes to look at the wrecked state of Alex still leaving hickeys where his mouth trails on my skin.
Wide brown eyes. Blown pupils swallowing the brown. White residue powder on the nose.
A short hot burst of his breath makes me shiver, knees buckling at every sensation of pleasure he is giving me. I tangle my hand on his soft hair, trying to keep up with the intensity of his lips attacking on mine. The black velvet mask on his face that he chose to wear on this damn Halloween party rubs on my face as he angles his to slot perfectly on mine, noses touching lovingly.
“Alex please,” I choke out a plea, tugging at his shirt.
He smirks darkly, too high out of his mind. He pulls away momentarily to scan my face, groaning in satisfaction as he sees—the bunny ears now crookedly placed on my head, the pink glittery lip gloss I wore is now smeared on my face, the red marks blooming on my neck, and my pink tube top body suit hiking down to reveal a supple flesh of my tits teasingly.
Everything is numb. Must be from the anticipation. Must be from the cocaine.
Without wasting a second, Alex’s hand drifts south to get a hold of my sparkly tights, snapping the material against my leg.
“You are a bloody tease, my little bunny,” Alex murmurs in my ear, nipping at the earlobe lightly. Before I could reply, a whine of protest tore from the back of my throat as he ripped off my tights, making a hole for his access.
“Alex,” I started to protest but was soon replaced by a moan when I felt his two fingers instantly tease me through the soft cloth of my body suit, wetness seeping through the fabric. I bite my lip as I contain my moans, his fingers pulling the crotch area fabric to the side and leaving me bare in Alex’s hands.
Two fingers deep without a warning, slowly stretching me out until he is knuckles deep. A shaky breath leaves my lips, feeling his fingers curl as he moves forward to find the spongy spot deep within. I clench pathetically at his two fingers, knees already weakening.
“What d’ya think’s gonna happen when you wear this bloody bunny suit for tonight, darling?” Alex groans in frustration, twisting his wrist to slide his fingers deeper and deeper, hitting my spot at every slam forward of his hand. I take a hold of his wrist not to stop him, but to hold onto something and ground me back as I tip my head back on the graffitied wall of the bathroom, tears welling up on my eyes at the pleasure.
The obscene sound of my wetness rings in the air, pathetic attempt to quiet my moans shakily adds to the sound. Alex chuckles at the sight before him–his girl trying to quiet herself as he fucks her with his fingers, just metres away from their friends.
Without any warning, he removes his hand suddenly on my cunt, making me clench on nothing and whine in response. I open my mouth ready to beg for more, for that sweet release, but instead I get a whiplash when Alex suddenly grabs my hips to turn me around and bend me on the marble sink. My head turns on the side, looking at the floor length mirror and gasping at the dirty sight in front of me.
A slap on my arse jolts me back, making me push back my hips against Alex’s cock on instinct. He groans, right hand holding my head down and left hand freeing himself from his jeans. His right hand travels on my shoulders, massaging the skin and leaving goosebumps on its wake, dipping on my front and pulling down my tube top to free my tits from the costume. My nipples start to harden as the cold marble sink brushes sweetly, in contrast with his hand teasingly squeezing my left tit, holding it as a leverage as he buries his cock from behind without any warning.
“Alex,” I loudly moan out, gripping the sink helplessly as he drives his hips forward and buries his cock to the hilt. He pulls back slowly and slams harshly back again, making my tits roughly move from the sink, making me choke a gasp at the sensation. One hand holding my hip that will surely leave bruises tomorrow.
“Wearing this? You think we’re goin’ to be able to leave this party without me marking you for people outside to see? For all your friends to know who you belong to, hm?” Alex murmurs, starting to build a rhythm in his thrusts. The head of his cock kisses my cervix sweetly, a hand at the back of my neck as he uses me at his own accord.
“We’re gonna walk out here after and you’re gonna go back to your friends, dance with them again like a slutty bunny that you are, with my cum dripping all over your thighs, yeah? Because I own you. You belong to me, don’t you, bunny?” He says hotly in my ear, snapping his hips again and again and bringing me close to my first orgasm of the night.
“Yours, Alex. Fuck— ‘m yours.”
Alex chuckles, twisting his hand to get a hold of my hair in a ponytail, using it as a leverage to fuck me deeper. I cannot think straight and say anything more as I am consumed by the feeling of him, fucking me roughly and making me full of him and him only. The party outside seems miles away, the chatter behind the door is inexistent as I continue to writhe beneath Alex, weakly shaking but still pushing my arse back on Alex to meet his thrusts.
“My little cock drunk bunny, eh?”
The drag of his cock, the sweet pain from where he pulls my hair, and the cold feeling rubbing on my nipples all adds to the sensation of getting closer to my orgasm. I open my mouth to breathe, gasping as I see white stars spotting on my vision, chanting Alex’s name as a prayer. With every move of his hips, every sweet dirty nothings he utters on my ear, and now with his fingers joining down south to play and toy with my clit messily, the pleasure is too much and consuming my body with full force. The high from the cocaine we snorted before sneaking off to fuck in the bathroom magnifies, and I cannot control my words nor my body as it surrenders hopelessly against my boyfriend behind me.
“I wore this for you,” I confess as tears stream down my face, mascara surely streaking my cheeks. “I—all, all of this is for you, Alex. I wanted you to-to bend me down and tug on me as you fuck me from behind. I danced like that on the dance floor so you’d take me right here and then. Need you to ruin me, to ruin my perfectly good costume and—and yours, make me yours.”
And with that—he snaps.
Alex’s head is swimming from the high of coke, and from the revelation how his sweet little girlfriend purposely chose this skimpy bunny outfit for tonight and danced with her friends to tease him, just so he could take her in the bathroom, like some groupie on tour.
He gets a hold of the little pom behind me, attached to the body suit and tugs on the tail, making me arch my back against him. He pulls roughly once more, bringing my back against his chest as he ruts up, filling me in a new position. His thrusts become sloppy, tears uncontrollably flowing down my cheeks as I struggle to find something to hold on to, knees buckling from the position. Alex wraps an arm on my waist to keep me right against him, fucking me through the haze of our high from cocaine.
“Need you, need you, please,” I whine, throat drying from moaning and gasping. “So—so close. Alex, I’ll be—I’ll be good for you, please.”
Alex’s grip tightens on my waist as he thrusts up, choking up a groan.
“You’re mine, darling,” he rasps, cock twitching as I clench around him. “No one gets to see you like this–only me.”
He places his mouth at the base of my neck biting softly, containing his groans of pleasure.
“Go on then, my little bunny. Scream for me. Scream loud so people would know who’s the best girl at this party. Let them know who’s fucking you this good, yeah?”
I shut my eyes tightly, breathing heavily as all warm goes to my core, clenching tightly, making Alex stutter on his movement from how tight my cunt has gripped his cock from the sensitivity of an upcoming orgasm.
“Come on, come on my cock, baby.”
With those words, a scream left my mouth as all my senses crashed down and tipped me over the edge. The orgasm hits in waves, making me tremble against Alex’s hold and moans of pleasure spills out of my lips. His thrusts became sloppy, biting down on my neck hard and soon spilled all over inside me, the warmth of his cum enveloping my already sensitive cunt and I whined at the sensation, hiccuping at the overstimulation.
“Attagirl. That’s my girl.”
Alex’s praises send me into overdrive, making me lean back on his shoulder to nuzzle my face on his sweaty neck.
“Good girl, my good girl, yeah?” He adds, rubbing my hips on his hands. He breathes heavily from my behind, swallowing as he tries to come down from the high—high of sex and cocaine.
A knock on the door soon burst the bubble that we have shared, making me huff tiredly in protest.
“We’ve been here too long,” I weakly whisper, voice breaking at the edge. Alex pulls out gently and hiss at the feeling, turning me around to fully face him.
He raises a hand to cup my face and rubs the apple of my cheek adoringly. “You look beautifully wrecked.”
I chuckle at his words, whining at how I must look.
“I must look crazy.”
“You look mine.”
My heart clenches at his words, warmth spreading from on my chest. Alex’s eyes trails down between us, seeing his load slowly trickle down my thighs, and he could not help but scoop some and bring his fingers on my mouth to taste some of him.
“Good bunny,” Alex hums, nodding in approval as I suck his fingers clean. He turns to the side to get paper towels, trying to catch every wetness he spilled inside me, chuckling in fascination as he gets more paper towels.
More of his cum drips down hot and sticky on my legs, making me yelp at sensitivity.
“Made so much mess on you, eh?” He asked softly, wiping the mess between my thighs. “Spilled so much of me inside your cunt. Not sorry, love, would come inside you over and over again and trust me, if there’s just no wanker knocking outside–I’d shove my cum up your cunt to make you full of me.”
I twitch at his words, biting my lip as I try to contain myself from pouncing on him once more for another round.
A bang can now be heard from the other side of the door, making Alex roll his eyes and me to laugh as he tries to fix my appearance.
“Shut up, mate! One second,” Alex growls in annoyance, but his touch is soft, fixing my bunny ears on top of my head.
As soon as he finished, he placed a kiss on the top of my forehead and wrapped an arm on my waist.
“All good, yeah?” Alex checks, making sure all is good on my end before going outside.
I nod softly, reaching up to place a quick peck on his jaw. His grip on my hips tightened, bringing me closer to his body.
“Let’s go trick or treating then, my little bunny.”
Happy Halloween, everyone! 🎃👻
This is short (I know!), but I really cannot help but write something for Halloween. I love dressing up, but sadly, I’m not doing anything this year. Sooo, I’m imagining myself be a bunny for this year.
Been a while, really missed writing. I have my finals next week and after that, I have a two week short break before I’ll have another semester at school! I will be writing every day on those days—I have so many ideas!
Not sure if anyone’s reading this, until the end, but I have became a fan of Oasis as well, and was wondering if I should write about them? Liam and Noel more specifically. I wonder if I have AM friends who’d want that?
But this is it for now! I’ll be back in 2 weeks in time!
If you have something to say or ask or request—just reach out, please! 🤎
look at my cutie patootie husband 😛⟡ ݁₊ .
I’m always gonna crawl back to you, Alexander.
THE STAR TREATMENT
“𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒑𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒓𝒐𝒄𝒌 '𝒏' 𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒅, '𝒄𝒐𝒔 𝒘𝒆'𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒘 𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒚.”
𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
Warning: Mature Content.
Word Count: 3.4k
It started with his tambourine.
That damn star tambourine.
The show tonight is an intimate one in a small venue. Hot bodies pressed together as everyone wants to get a sight of the man on stage shaking his hips sensually while shaking that damn star tambourine with strands of his hair falling deliciously on his face.
Alex.
It started out as a joke. I told him how I would let 90’s Liam Gallagher to hit on me, if I was in the 90’s. That I would gladly be a groupie if I was just born early.
That I sometimes fantasise Liam Gallagher’s hands whenever he grips those infamous star tambourine he had before as he shakes it and the sounds flow to life. How those hands would be wrapped on my throat the way it wraps on the musical instrument and press on it softly, just on the base of my neck, and I too, like a tambourine, would emit a sound—any sound he likes.
It started just because I saw a photo of Liam Gallagher in the 90’s with his iconic star shaped tambourine.
To which I showed Alex and made a joke about how if Alex had that specific shaped tambourine, I would let him do anything to me which only earned a blush from him as he shyly rested his face at the crook of my neck.
Who would have thought Alex would really obtain one and use it for tonight’s show?
Alex is on his element. Singing with Miles on stage, dancing his hips, and just being on his scene which is the music scene.
What is dangerously different is the way he looked at me while he fucking shakes that damn star tambourine in his hands.
It looks like an innocent gaze from the stage, but I can see even from afar and all the stage lights that glint of mischief shining through those warm brown irises. He looks so beautiful with that white shirt that is fit on his neck, seemingly like a half turtle neck. His hair has gotten longer and the gel could no longer tame it to which I am really thankful for. His jeans are too tight that I could see the bulge that grows in front at every end of the song, to which I know he is planning something crazy.
And finally, it is the last song of the night.
As both Alex and Miles and the rest of the band bow their heads and thank the audience for the millionth time, I finally make my way back backstage. My feet walk a mind of its own as it drags me to the familiar hallway, up until I reach Alex’s own dressing room.
I pull off my jacket and have it rest on the couch as I take a seat on it. I look at the wall clock the room provides and watch in agony as the arrow of the clock ticks and moves every second, real slow.
My jeans are now free from dirt and loose ends as I have picked on it mindlessly while waiting for Alex to finally grace me with his presence alone.
I could hear the rattling sound of the star shaped percussion instrument, growing loudly together with each footsteps. Like a dog when a bell has been shaken, it activates something deep inside me submissively.
Without a second thought, I dropped to my knees and sat back on my legs, hands shakily resting on top of my thighs as I waited for the door of Alex’s dressing room to open.
The soft click of the doorknob alerted my senses, making me raise my head just to finally get a sight of my boyfriend.
His white shirt clinging on his chest, sweat drops falling from his forehead and slowly trickling down on his face. His brown eyes are wide blown, a mixture of awe and smirk paints his expression as he connects our gazes together. He leans back to close the door with his back, never breaking an eye contact as he puts a hand on his hips, smirk deepening. He eyes me up and down, and he makes a hum of satisfaction as he struts forward, the musical instrument in his hand making a sound that seems to tickle my neck and boil the lust brewing deep inside my guts.
Alex raises his hand and brings the star shaped tambourine in front of my face, slowly rocking the instrument left and right in a teasing way that makes it jingle humming softly.
“I can’t believe you got turned on with a damn tambourine. What a slut you are, baby,” Alex breathes out a laugh, pressing the tambourine on the left side of my cheek.
I whimpered at the coldness of the metal part of the tambourine, eyes flicking up to stay on him. Still quiet as I let him guide us for the night.
“Take off your top.”
My shaking hands went to the bottom of my shirt to comply, the cotton material soon lifted off from my body, the cold air of the room hitting me quickly that made me visibly shiver. Tits out as I wear no bra, making Alex nods approvingly in turn. I put my shirt on the couch and brought back my hands from where it was resting, looking up at Alex obediently for his next demand.
He looks dangerous right now. There is something brewing behind his brown irises that are usually warm, but right now it is all swallowed by his black pupils, cold but not distant.
“My slut,” he whispers. I nod in agreement, moaning when the cold musical instrument starts to descend its way from my cheek, down to my neck, and now on my nipples which are starting to harden.
I choke out a gasp when I feel the circular parts of the tambouring massaging my nipples, being pressed tightly on my tits as Alex goes from left to right and right to left, tracing unrecognisable patterns that I was not aware could even feel like this.
An innocent instrument to bring pleasure so much I could feel wetness trickling down the inside of my thighs.
“Now show me how a slut uses her mouth then,” Alex demands, pulling away the tambourine on my chest that made me whimper from loss of contact. His hands start to unbuckle his belt, slipping the leather material between the tambourine, in a makeshift necklace with it as a pendant, and I swallow as he starts to bring the belt around my neck, securing it tight enough to bring me pleasure but not cause unwanted pain.
“Fuck, what a sight you are,” he coos, fisting my hair on his hand as he wasted no time bringing his cock on my lips, tapping it dirtily with his precum smearing all over my lips. He yanks my head upwards, making me gasp, and that is when he slips his cock on my mouth.
I braced my hands on his thighs as he thrust straight down my throat. Tears start to form in the corner of my eyes, gagging at the sudden intrusion of his big cock on my throat which has not been stretched yet. I moan helplessly as he uses my mouth for his own pleasure, subsequently bringing me pleasure as well as his moans fills the air. Bringing double the pleasure is the sound of the tambourine rustling on my neck back and forth at the intensity of Alex’s thrusts on my mouth.
It sounds so fucking obscene.
“What a good slut. Fucking. Good. Fucking. Warm. Mouth,” Alex grits his teeth, pushing his hips forward at every word making the tip of his cock kiss the back of my throat every single time.
As soon as I let out a moan that sends vibrations on his dick, he roughly pushes my head off of him. There is a string of saliva from my mouth to the tip of his red swollen cock, a clear bead of precum oozes on the slit, that made Alex groan in satisfaction.
Alex bent down on my level, cupping my cheeks that made my lips pucker, and kissed me without a care that his cock was just on it seconds ago. His tongue swipes at my bottom lip messily, biting lightly, and as soon as I give him access to my mouth once again, he explores every inch inside with his tongue. We both moan at the pleasure, him as he tastes himself on the tip of my tongue and me as he claims me hotly and plays with my tits at the same time.
He pulls back breathless, furrowing his brows at me.
“Sluts don’t deserve the couch—much more a groupie. They are to be fucked on the floor,” Alex rasps.
“Stand up.”
I stood up shakily, knees wobbling. I look down at Alex who is now the one kneeling on the floor, his hands now on my hips steadying me as I rise up. He silently unbuttons my jeans and brings it down on my ankles, stepping out of it to which he throws the pants behind him without a care. He plays with the cotton material of my underwear, a finger going straight to my slit without shyness that made me gasp at the coldness in contrast to my hot wet cunt. He slowly rubs a finger on my centre, the cotton material starting to get soaked now. As soon as he is done playing, Alex hooks his index finger at the band of my underwear and completely strips me naked in front of him and at his mercy.
“On all fours.”
Without a second thought, I start to go down on the floor again, on my hands and knees. The tambourine on my neck jingles, the leather belt biting on my neck deliciously. Every move I make, the tambourine shakes as well.
A hand rests on my hips as I feel Alex moves closer on my behind. I start to crane my neck to look back but cry out a moan when he roughly pushes my face on the rough carpet covering the floor of this room.
“Don’t look back. Take what I give you,” he warns, a crack from a slap on my arse echoes in the room that made me lightly go forward, the tambourine going along with me and making a sound that mixes well with my cry of pleasure.
With one swift motion, Alex presses the head of his cock and drives his hips forward to make me take all of him in one thrust. My scream is muffled by my mouth being pushed down on the carpet as he pulls back just to deliver another hard thrust inside of me.
Left hand on my hips to ground me and right hand to push my head down at his will completely as he thrusts forward hard and fast that made my knees scrape painfully on the rough carpet forward at every thrust he delivers. The damn tambourine bouncing on my tits and emitting a rattling sound, as if it is being shaken normally when played innocently.
“Good girl. Fuck—my good girl,” Alex praises, making me whimper his name.
“Your good girl,” I nod in confirmation, pushing my arse back at him that made him grip my hips that will surely leave bruises tomorrow day.
“You think I’d get jealous to the thought of you and some guy from Oasis?” He snarls, fucking me at a different pace now. “Baby, I know this pussy is mine. He can fuck you all you want, but no cock will ever fit and stretch you like mine do.”
I bite my lip in response, squeezing my eyes tightly as I take his cock and every thrust he gives. My fingers tried to grip the carpet, my nails scratching helplessly as I tried to ground myself back to Earth.
“So good. So fucking good. Like your cunt is fuckin’ made just for me,” Alex bent down just enough to whisper hotly on my ear, his grip on my hair tightening at every thrust.
“Made just for me yeah?”
I do not know what possessed Alex to be this way tonight that I cannot think straight and clearly and speak. All that my lips are letting out is either a moan, a cry, a whimper, but one thing constant that is on the tip of my tongue is his name that I utter in ecstasy like a prayer.
“Alex,” I shiver, so so close to my long awaited sweet orgasm.
“All of you are just made for me, yeah? You’d let me have it my way, yeah? And you’d take all that I will give you because you are my greedy little slut,” he groans wetly, biting my shoulder.
A hand on my shoulder now as he changes an angle that made him reach deeper and hit that sensitive spot inside me over and over again. My knees are burning and my arms ache from holding myself up. The damn star tambourine seems to be mocking as it shifts back and forth and jingles and jingles and the sound of its beads rustling sings in the air like a fucking performance as Alex nails me down on the rough carpeted floor of his dressing room like a groupie and fucks me as if he does not know me at all and all that what this is for pleasure and only for one night.
“A groupie? Baby, you think I’d let you become some groupie?” Alex laughs mockingly, fingers pinching my hardened nipple that sent electrifying waves of gratification.
“You think I’d share this pussy with anyone else? They can have a taste but no one will know how to make you wet like this, yeah? Do you hear me?”
A slap was soon delivered on my tits, making me choke out a gasp as another slap cracks on my arse cheek as Alex proves his point.
“Yours—only yours,” I cry brokenly.
Alex delivers a slap right at my clit, making my knees buckle but his arm wrapped around my stomach to steady me.
“Louder.”
“Yours! Fuck yours. Alex. You. Just you. Always you. Only you.”
We must look obscene at what state we are currently in right now. Anyone walking in would surely be either frightened or turned on at the sight of two people fucking dog style on the floor, the girl having a star shaped tambourine necklace that rests on her tits that bounces up and down as the guy from behind drives his cock on the girl’s tight cunt that not only the sound of the tambourine rattling can be heard, but also the obscene sound of wetness of her cunt that slicks the guy’s cock perfect like lube that made a dirty squelching sound as he moves inside of here, and the tip of his cock kssing his cervix every single time, all while her cries of pleasure is being muffled by the guy pushing her head down on the carpet and the calculated moan from the guy but involuntarily letting out a shaky sigh as he pushes and pushes and gives and gives and the girl takes and takes and receives everything she is being given.
Alex soon slows down and I am about to protest when he guides me off the ground to straighten my back, my head now resting on his shoulders. His hot mouth is on my left cheek as he thrust upwards to resume on bringing heaven right back at me.
“You are fucking dripping, gushing baby. This turns you on?” He teases, nipping at my earlobe.
“Yes, yes,” I reply shakily, voice breaking at the end.
“What a cockwhore you are. But my cockwhore. My cock only. My girl. Mine. Only mine.”
Alex chants those praises straight to my ear like a prayer as he thrusts upward, caging me with his arm wrapped on my stomach as he pulls my back tightly against his hot chest, our sweat being the only barrier between our flushed skin. The tambourine obscenely bounces on my breast up and down, as Alex makes me take all of him.
The new angle made me look up at the cream ceiling of the room, seeing broken stars from opening my eyes after squeezing them shut from the intensity of Alex’s thrusts upwards.
“Look at you all silent and a whimpering mess right now?” He says in amusement, jerking his hips at a frantic phase, indicating he is slowly losing his composure and close to spilling his load all on me any second now.
Alex reaches down between my thighs and starts rubbing my clit in a hurried motion, adding pleasure in my system. The slick sound of his fingers and his cock rings in the air, the shake of tambourine going haywire as Alex pushes his cock on me and guides me to bounce on him.
“Come on baby, give it to me,” he moans loudly, finally losing composure as we chase our highs together, his voice breaking in between.
With one loud cry, I surrendered to the feeling and finally came all over Alex’s cock and fingers. The feeling overpowering my senses that all I could say and think is his name, shaking as my hands tries to grab blindly behind him as my orgasm extends, evoking a choked gasp at the back of my throat as I feel myself clench and pulse all around him, a feeling of new wetness now between us.
My head thrown back at his shoulders, Alex jerking his hips erratically as he spills loads of his cum inside of me, the hot load making me whimper out at sensitivity and the next thing I know is I am coming all over again on him.
“Shhh, baby I got you,” Alex murmurs, riding both our highs together.
My thighs trembled and I completely slumped back and put all of my weight on this man who just made me squirt for the first time in my life.
“You did so well. Fuck, so so good—my good girl.”
I open my mouth to breathe in and out, trying to catch my breath, whole body still shaking.
“Fuck, are you okay?” Alex softly asks.
His hands that were gripping my hips roughly that surely left bruises on its wake are now rubbing the same spot with care, murmuring sweet things on my ear as I try to come back down.
“Alex,” I whine in response, still not being able to think of a proper reply.
“You drenched me good, baby.”
With that, I whine once more, but this time in embarrassment. I try to hide my face on his neck, but he is now guiding me to straddle him, turning me to face him and sit on his folded thighs.
“Like you claimed me back the way I claimed you,” Alex adds teasingly, a smile grazing his swollen pink lips.
I could feel the blush creeping on my neck up to my cheeks, making me laugh out loud as he pulled funny expressions.
“Where did that come from, Turner,” I tease back, looping my arms around his neck. The star tambourine is the only thing separating our chests together.
“Fuck I don’t know,” Alex swallows thickly, a laugh escaping from his mouth.
“Must be the tambourine,” he looks down to give the damn star shaped tambourine a pointed look.
“Must be the ghost of 90’s LG on this damn star tambourine.”
We chuckle together, still sitting on the carpeted floor of his dressing room. Between us, I could feel his cock coming alive, starting to get hard once more. I hum a moan, making me arch my back, when he reaches between our still bodies and feels his fingers start to collect my release to use it and spread it on my clit slowly once more. The tambourine on my neck begins to rattle once again.
I look up to see the same mischievous glint on his eyes that I saw from the stage earlier is now back, his two long fingers entering me, making me clench and pulse around him and moan out a gasp from the sensitivity.
Oh, this will be a long night.
Yep, I recently became obsessed with Oasis.
Yep, I have hyperfixated on 90’s Liam Gallagher.
Yep, this is short, but I just can’t get it out of my head.
Yep, I will still be continuing to write Alex and only Alex because I don’t think I know enough about Liam Gallagher nor I could do justice writing about him compared to extraordinary work out here on this app when I am just starting writing about Alex Turner.
Yep, I am busy as fuck as I just started a new semester at university.
“St. Swithin's Day, if thou dost rain,
For forty days it will remain:
St. Swithin's Day, if thou be fair,
For forty days 'twill rain nae mair.'”
“I could hear every sound in the cafe but the most distinct that sings in my ear is you.
I heard 'Wonderwall' bleeding through your headphones.
I angled my body to watch you, seeing you swaying your head lightly from side to side, your mouth forming to sing the lyrics of a song from Oasis.
And all the roads that lead you there were winding
And all the lights that light the way are blinding
There are many things that I would like to say to you
But I don't know how
You smiled shyly and look down hoping no one noticed and no one really would have had noticed you got the words wrong if I am not observing your every move.
The later verse uses “And all the lights that light the way are blinding” but you sang the first verse, “And all the lights that lead us there are blinding.”
Bloody hell, peach, you cracked a little smile when you got the words wrong—that made me smile too.
But you continued singing.
And so did I.
I said maybe
You're gonna be the one that saves me
And after all
You're my Wonderwall.”
beg [18+] ·˚ ༘
pairing: 90s!liam gallagher x gn!reader genre: smut !!, sub!liam, porn w/o plot word count: 1713 warnings: orgasm denial, edging, overstimulation, oral (m!receiving), crying, unprotected sex, begging, praise + a touch of degradation, minors dni !!summary: 3am and liam wakes you up, humping your ass in his sleep, soaked and whining ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ a/n: draft i had but based on anons req for more subby liam !!! pure puppy boy hours. enjoy xx i hope you all love it <3 •ᴗ•
you woke to heat.
not the kind that made you sweat, but the kind that made you ache—dull and persistent, pressed low and tight against your spine. breath on the back of your neck, damp and fast. a quiet, choked whimper brushing the shell of your ear.
and movement. barely there at first—just the slow, unconscious roll of his hips against your ass, like he was dreaming. like his body knew what it wanted before his mind had even caught up. you were still half-asleep, soft and dazed, but the friction was unmistakable. the hard line of him pressed flush to the curve of you, rutting helplessly through the thin cotton of his boxers.
you didn’t move. not yet. just lay there, eyes closed, heart starting to pound.
he whimpered again.
softer this time. muffled into your shoulder, breath catching on the edge of it. and then— “fuck…”
barely a whisper. more like a prayer. or a confession.
you shifted, just a little, pushing your hips back into him.
he gasped. a stuttering, broken sound that vibrated straight through your ribs.
“are you awake?” he rasped, voice wrecked and thick with shame.
you hummed, eyes still closed. “you’ve been grinding on me in your sleep, li.”
he groaned, face buried in your neck. “fuck. i didn’t mean to. m’sorry—i just—god, it felt so good, i—i couldn’t stop.”
you could feel the heat of him now, leaking through his boxers, soaked and needy and trembling against you. your cunt pulsed in response, throbbing with the weight of his voice, the way it cracked on every word.
“you hard, baby?” you asked softly.
he whimpered. nodded. “been hard since i fell asleep. hurts now. ‘s awful.”
you turned in his arms, slow and easy, and pushed him gently onto his back. the sheets rustled. the room stayed dark, shadows curling around the edges of the bed like smoke.
liam looked up at you like he was afraid to breathe. his hair was a mess, stuck to his forehead, and his lips were parted—red and bitten, like he’d already been tugging at them in his sleep. he looked ruined already. and you’d barely touched him.
you slid your hand beneath the waistband of his boxers. he cried out—high and sharp, breath catching hard.
“oh—fuck, please—”
he was so hard it felt like he might snap. your fingers curled around him, slow, and he gasped like it hurt. slick already, so much precum you could barely keep hold of him.
you stroked once. twice. long, lazy pulls, your palm sticky with it already.
his thighs trembled beneath you.
“please,” he whispered, breath hot and fast. “please don’t tease—m’too close already, i swear—just wanna come, baby, please let me come—i’ll be good—”
you smiled. slow. mean.
“you’ve been a fucking mess since before you even woke up,” you murmured, tightening your grip just enough to watch his whole body twitch. “you think that’s good?”
he shook his head. lips parted, eyes wide. “no. no, m’sorry—just—just need you—please, i can’t—”
you cut him off with another stroke. faster this time. you watched his mouth fall open, chest heaving, hips jerking helplessly into your hand like he couldn’t stop.
and then—you let go.
his breath hitched. he stared at you like he’d just been slapped.
“why’d you stop?” he breathed, voice so small it nearly broke you. “i was right there—please, baby, please—hurts—hurts so bad—”
“you don’t get to come that easy, li,” you whispered, leaning in, pressing a kiss just beneath his ear. “not after the way you were grinding on me like a fucking dog.”
he moaned at that. high and wrecked. like it turned him on more than it humiliated him.
you slid down the bed, kissed your way down his chest, to the soft curve of his stomach. pulled his boxers off slow.
his cock slapped against his stomach—red, leaking, twitching.
you licked a stripe up the underside, slow and lazy.
he whined.
“fuck, fuck, oh my god—”
you wrapped your lips around the head, sucked slow and warm, and he sobbed.
his hands fisted the sheets beside him, his hips stuttering up into your mouth before he could stop himself.
“please,” he moaned. “please don’t stop—feels too good—need it so bad—been so long—can’t hold it—”
you pulled off with a soft, wet pop.
his whole body jolted.
“no—” he gasped, hips still twitching. “no, baby, please—don’t stop, please, i was gonna—was so close—”
“too bad,” you whispered, kissing the head. “not your choice.”
he whimpered, hands clawing at the sheets. “hurts, baby—m’so fuckin’ full—feels like i’m gonna burst—please, please just let me come—i’ll be so good, swear i will—jus’ wanna feel your mouth—please, can’t think—”
you sucked him again. just the head. slow, filthy circles with your tongue. his breath hitched.
and then you stopped. again.
“fuck—!” he sobbed, legs twitching, cock pulsing against your palm. “why’re you doin’ this—what did i do—please—”
“you were grinding on me like a desperate little thing,” you murmured, dragging your thumb through the mess leaking from him. “like a puppy humping a pillow in his sleep.”
he moaned again. thighs shaking. hips rocking up into nothing.
you took him in again. deeper this time. sucked hard.
he gasped—choked on it.
“gonna come—baby, please, don’t stop this time—please, i can’t take it, i’m gonna come—need to, need to—”
you pulled off.
again.
he sobbed.
choked on it. curled in on himself. legs shaking. cock red and twitching and soaked in spit and precum and still—still—not allowed to come.
“baby,” he croaked. “baby, i can’t—please—feels like m’gonna die—”
“then i guess i better ride you,” you said, soft and slow. “see if you survive.”
you climbed back up, straddled his hips, and guided him inside—slow, warm, deep. he sobbed again the moment your cunt sank down on him, hands flying to your thighs like he didn’t know whether to pull you closer or push you away.
“oh my god—baby, baby, please—feels so good—too good—can’t—can’t take it—”
you rocked your hips. slow. deep. deliberate.
his mouth dropped open, eyes fluttering, whole body trembling under you. he was wrecked. drenched in sweat, red from throat to chest, breath coming in broken gasps.
“feels too good,” he whimpered. “please—please let me come—m’gonna cry again—feels like m’gonna break—”
you clenched around him and he did cry. high and thin, a sob ripped right from his throat as he arched off the bed.
you leaned in, mouth brushing his ear.
“come for me.”
he shattered.
a breathless, aching cry, cock pulsing inside you, thick and messy and hot, his whole body jerking like it was the first orgasm he’d ever had. he came hard, hips twitching, thighs trembling, breath caught halfway to a sob.
but you didn’t stop.
you didn’t even slow.
he whimpered beneath you, loud and broken, hands scrabbling uselessly at your waist.
“no—no, please—baby—please—” he gasped, voice so small it barely made it out.
his cock was still twitching inside you, oversensitive and slippery, already trying to soften. but you fucked him through it—deep, slow thrusts, grinding down on him like you owned him. like you knew exactly how far he could go.
“shh,” you murmured, leaning close, your lips brushing his temple. “you said you wanted to come. don’t be greedy, li. you’ve got more in you.”
“can’t,” he cried, voice cracked and wet. “can’t, baby—feels too good—m’not strong enough—hurts—hurts—feels like m’gonna fall apart—”
“you already are.”
he sobbed, high and helpless, tears streaking down his cheeks. his thighs were twitching constantly now, cock still stuffed deep inside you, still caught in that slick, pulsing heat. he was breathing in ragged gasps, hips jerking like he couldn’t stop, like his body was moving without him.
you kept your rhythm steady. slow, grinding rolls of your hips, pushing down just enough to make him feel everything.
his cock was still hard. not quite soft, not quite ready. but you could feel it coming back. the second build. the ache. the pressure curling up in him again even as he begged you to stop.
“no,” he whimpered, burying his face in your neck. “please—i can’t—please, it’s too much—hurts, baby, i swear—can’t come again—m’not ready—”
you cupped his cheek, kissed his lips—soft, sweet.
“you’re ready.”
he shook his head, crying into your mouth.
“no—don’t make me—m’gonna scream—hurts so bad, feels so good, i can’t—i can’t—”
a high, wrecked sound, not even a moan anymore. just the last noise he had in him.
“yes, you can,” you whispered. “you’re my good boy. you’re gonna give me one more.”
he was trembling now. full-body, legs twitching, breath sobbing in and out of him like he couldn’t get enough air. his cock throbbed, still buried inside you, still dripping.
“can’t feel my legs,” he choked. “m’gonna die—please—baby, please—”
“you’ll live.”
he moaned your name again. over and over. a prayer.
he was coming undone beneath you—eyes rolling, voice slurred, mouth open in a silent cry. you could feel the orgasm rising in him like a tide, pulling at his body in waves, dragging him back up even as he tried to crawl away from it.
and then—he came again.
a wet, wrecked sob leaving his throat, his whole body locking up. he came deep, pulsing thick inside you, clinging to you like it might keep him from falling apart completely. there was nothing left in him but heat, breath, and your name on repeat.
you didn’t move.
you stayed there, warm and wet around him, one hand smoothing through his hair as he trembled.
he was whimpering still. tears shining on his cheeks, lips bitten red, voice too wrecked to form full words. just soft little noises—broken and raw.
“there you go,” you whispered, brushing your mouth against his temple. “that’s it, baby. you did so good.”
he clung to you.
arms wrapped tight around your waist, face pressed to your chest, breath shaking as it tried to even out.
“too much,” he mumbled. “m’so tired—feels like i’m floatin’—can’t feel my hands—”
“shh. i’ve got you.”
you kissed his forehead. slow. reverent.
held him while his body settled. while the shakes stopped. while his breathing came back. while the sweat cooled on his skin.
you held him like he was something precious.
and he let you.
This just made me become an Oasis fan. I am now binge listening to their tour setlist 🫠.
ALL BARK AND NO BITE
𝑵𝒐𝒘 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒎𝒆, 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒐𝒐𝒍.
𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
Warning: Mature Content.
Word Count: 10.4k
The sound of the fucked up speaker system booms inside the club, but the people does not seem to care as to how shitty the quality of music it produces. Everyone continues to dance along like there is no tomorrow over some underground indie start up band no one knows their existence until tonight. Everyone is having the time of their lives.
But Alex is not having any fun.
He swallows thickly, the insides of his mouth drying as he continuously swallows nothing but his saliva whilst adjusting the thick guitar strap on his shoulders that it feels like it is starting to suffocate him like a rope on his neck.
It has always been like this. The nerves were amplified before they went on stage together with his friends whom he built a band with. It is going well so far. Every after gig they do, they would give out free CD’s of their demo album they have burnt over their bassist’s basement, and in turn, the people would do the free promotion for them.
However, he was not expecting to have this many people tonight. The club is jam packed, the bodies of drunk people look like sardines in a can as they all try to jump together to the beat of the song the band before them is trying to play. Alex winces at the crackle of the speaker and notices that the frontman of the band continuously mess up the guitar chords and emitting a grating sound in turn.
“10 minutes, mate! Ready?” The drummer, Matt, taps Alex from behind, making the latter jump in surprise.
“Yeah, yeah. All set,” Alex replies, his eyes never leaving the crowd.
“Searching for her, huh?” Matt teases, swinging an arm on the rockstar’s shoulder.
That statement made Alex shrug off his friend’s arm and proceeded to give him a scowl. Matt in turn raises his arm in surrender and laughs before leaving the anxious man alone to wander his gaze off at the crowd.
Alex knows you are going to be here because your boyfriend went to him to ask for some tickets for tonight’s show as apparently, you are a big fan of theirs. When he heard that, his heart dropped to his feet because he was not expecting that you would know his existence—or maybe he is thinking ahead that what you really care about is just his band’s music and you do not even know Alex at all—but that did not stop Alex with his wishful thinking that like every other girls that comes to see him, you really want to see him in his rockstar persona.
Or so Alex hopes he exudes such rock ‘n roll guy front, when everyone at University still see him as this shy little boy who clumsily trips over the campus holding his books as he hurriedly makes his way to his class as he is once again late for what seems to be the hundredth time as he was kept up late from a gig the night before.
The starting up rockstar was overthinking that he did not realise it was soon his time to fix his earpiece and get together with the band and when he started turning back to go with his mates—there you are.
There you are in your long cheetah print coat and some black leather knee high boots, holding a small bouquet of flowers as you walk up the stairs to settle on the balcony.
Alex was enthralled by your presence alone. He is now swallowing dryly that makes his throat hurt as his eyes seem to be fixated on you and only at you as you make your way where you are headed to. However, all those butterflies and heart flutters are soon replaced with ice cold realisation that your shitty arse boyfriend is on your tail and following you like a puppy.
Oh, that boy is a slag.
How Alex wishes to tell that to your face, but all he could do is put it in a song for their next album and he hopes he will be able to sing that line in front of your face. Other songs he made with thinking of you would suffice for tonight though.
He makes his way back to reunite with his band mates. They all did their pre-show ritual which consisted of saying something gibberish and taking a sip of their beer, before they finally headed out the stage. The cheers multiplied as the main star of the night started their show with one single guitar strum from Alex, signalling the beginning of their set.
But Alex’s eyes have a mind of their own as his body switched on autopilot, playing their rehearsed intro song and the lyrics automatically came out of their mouth, but his eyes are trained north to scan for your face on the crowd of the balcony.
Like two opposite ends of magnets—his eyes find yours.
And your eyes are trained on his big puppy brown eyes, giving the frontman a wink, which casted a spell that made him realise he is that shy kid from university, making him break eye contact with you and focused his gaze on the ground, but not before you have seen the red blush creeping from his neck and painting his cute little cheeks like a wildfire.
Of course, you knew about Alex Turner.
Who doesn’t? Is the question.
He is that shy kid at university who only goes to his classes, probably anyone could count with their fingers. He is a busy guy these days with his band taking off. You heard news about him from his classmates from high school who are now at the same university as you, and the stories never disappoint.
Great musician. Introverted lad. Genius at school. Shy with people. Good at bed.
You chuckle at the thought of that. You know what they say—geek in the streets, freak in the sheets.
And you have been listening to his stuff, and he is great. Really amazing. The lyrics are genius, some you can even relate and feel like he wrote those songs about you. His speed when singing is far different from his talking voice which seems to stutter a lot from being nervous while fiddling his bracelet on his arm that are wristbands from gigs he has been having a hard time taking off.
One time you asked for an extra pen from him as he is in one of your classes, and you watch in amusement as he scramble to get his bag and dig for what you are needing from, things falling out from his bag as he clumsily retrieve the papers from the ground, but it only made everything worse as the whole contents of his bag pack was now turned upside down, spilling everything from the floor and gaining the attention of everyone in the classroom.
You just bite off your lip to contain yourself from laughing, turning your back on him as if nothing happened, before telling everyone loudly to mind their own business and stop looking at the boy who looks like a baby deer caught in headlights.
Four out of five rumours have been checked off from the list as being proven true. Now, you wonder if those rumours about him being good at bed would be true.
Suck it and see, you guess?
You look around to find your boyfriend, but soon roll your eyes to see him cosying up with a jet-black haired girl at the far end from where you are now standing. He asked you to see the band tonight in hopes of rekindling that old flame you two have as you both were once that popular high school sweethearts that everyone is jealous of.
In reality, you both are far away from being the perfect couple everyone is gushing to have about. He is the most popular football player at university, but he also is the most unfaithful bastard at your own school.
You know your love for him is now long gone. You do not know when you fall out of love with him. You do not know why you keep coming back around. You do not know why you still choose to stay with him. You guess it is easy to be with someone you have been for so long rather than face the reality and be alone.
You are tired of being the popular girl everyone envies at university when you do not even know in the first place why people want to be in your shoes. You are most certainly fed up with all the boring football matches you go and pretend to support your serial cheater boyfriend with. And you are exhausted with all the parties there are at university.
When all you want is peace and quiet evenings. All you want to do is listen to some indie music from a band who is just taking off the charts. Be a rockstar girlfriend and follow your boyfriend in all parts of the UK as he plays from one shitty club to another.
That all you really want is that one shy boy from your class who would literally do anything to give you his pen even if it means he does not have a pen himself to use.
And that boy is currently on the stage, still refusing to connect your gazes together after you simply winked at him that turned him into a blushing tomato.
You watch as his black guitar is resting highly on his stomach, the white guitar strap looks like it is situated too tightly around his shoulder. He has his eyes closed as his pink cracked lips rest on his microphone, opening as he belts out the lyrics from one of his songs. His hair has gotten a bit longer, and it looks so damn soft that you wonder how it would feel between your fingers. Your eyes trail lower to scan his torso which is clad with a polo shirt, his legs are covered with jeans which are being securely held up with a black belt on his waist.
His hands start to strum on his guitar more aggressively, the bottom of his shirt rising slightly, giving you a peek of his abdomen. You could not help but be fascinated with how slutty his waist looks right now with his fitted polo shirt.
Alex looks so confident on stage as he owns it, commanding everyone like a leader. Every move he makes is being followed by the crowd, every sway of his hips makes people sway theirs, and every word coming out of his mouth lights everyone’s desire to become one of his girls (and boys) for the night.
How can this person be the same person who cannot even string a proper sentence when you asked him how his weekend had been?
Alex cannot not look at you.
He wants to look at you and only you. He knows that all he needs to do is lift his head up and you would be there, but God, why does the mere fact of looking at you already make his dick hard on his jeans? He is hopeless, completely hopeless with pretty girls—but majorly hopeless when it comes to you.
Why do you have to be at his every class? Why do you have to be with that douchebag of a boyfriend you are currently right now? Why do you have to be there at the balcony right now with your attention focused on him that is making him completely aware of everything that is going on right now and completely losing focus on what he is doing right now when all he wants to do is muster up the courage to talk to you?
Why does he have to completely fall head over heels on you?
Alex visibly cringed when he heard him play the wrong guitar chord, shaking his head to wake himself up and break himself from his overthinking. He looked at the crowd and saw the drunk smiling expression of everyone, oblivious to the mistake he had made. He is a perfectionist, that is why even if his listeners did not catch the wrong chord, he would surely be thinking about it the whole night and would overthink of ways not to do the same on the next show.
He wishes he could go grab a drink right now and chug it all in one go, but as he looks down to press on the pedal that would change the sound of his electric guitar to another octave, there is a big sign that warns “NO DRINKS ON STAGE.” Previous accidents have happened wherein liquids spill over these electrical equipment and it did not end well for the owner of such musical equipment and the owner of the club.
You noticed it. You notice Alex’s expression as soon as he hits the wrong chords and subtly changes it to the correct one, because his lips start to tremble as if he is about to cry but he carries on singing the rest of the chorus of the song. You notice how Alex is now watching every move his left hand makes as his fingers place itself on the frets of the guitar to produce the intended correct chords and how he looks super alert with every passing second he plays on the poorly dim lit makeshift stage of this club.
Sweat makes the back of Alex’s shirt stick on his back, making him hyperaware how uncomfortable it feels on his skin. The rough material of his jeans feels insufferable and all he could think of right now is the sweet relief of taking it off after and hopping for a quick cold shower afterwards. The room is too hot and Alex could feel how little oxygen the room has to offer as he feels himself being suffocated while his body is still on autopilot mode, finishing their set. His bangs are sticking to his forehead, the collar of his polo shirt is touching his ears, and he feels another round of sweat dripping from his temples, down inside his chest to his stomach. He is sweating more than usual, more than he would after the first round of sex.
But Alex does not show any of his thoughts with his body language. A few would understand and recognise his thoughts and how he really feels at the moment, but those few people are not here right in front of him who are still hazily enjoying themselves on the dance floor.
And you are one of the few who can see right through him.
But it does not matter as it is the last song of the night. Alex’s throat is hurting, as he swallows once more dryly, trying to coat it so singing would not scratch his already scratched up oesophagus. He went back to one of the boxes beside Matt’s drum kit to retrieve a towel, drying his sweaty palms and patting his face off from it. He exhaled heavily before going back to his microphone stand and informing everyone how this is the last song that they will be performing, earning a mix of boos from not wanting them to end and cheers from people who failed to register Alex’s words of bidding them goodnight.
You do not feel exhausted. On the contrary, it feels like the night is just starting for you. You know you want him. You know you have to get him. You know you have to have him tonight and of course—you always get what you want.
You just have to think of ways on how to get closer to him later on because everybody knows after their performance, girls and boys would be flocking to his side for this rockstar’s attention and affection for them.
But you are who you are.
You always get it your way.
As you look once more back on stage, you are surprised to see Alex looking up already on you. His body is angled towards you, his eyes are unwavering as he sings the next words directly at you.
Well, how can you wake up
With someone you don't love?
And not feel slightly phased by it
Alex does not know where the sudden rush of confidence came from as he sings the words to the person he has on his mind when making such a song he is performing right now. He knows about the news of your boyfriend’s infidelity, come on, he has been seen flirting with every person whom they identify themselves as female on the campus. Everyone at uni is sure how that pathetic excuse of a boyfriend of yours would fuck anyone as long as they have a hole in them.
Once again, he thinks of how that boy is such a slag and how you deserve better.
You deserve to be with someone like him. But of course, he would not dare say that out loud. He cannot even reply to you when you ask him how his weekend has been.
Oh, he had a struggle
And they woke up together, not quite realising how
Awkwardly stretching and yawning
It's always hard in the morning
And I suppose that's the price you pay
Well, oh, it isn't what it was
She's thinking he looks different today
And now there's nothing left to guess now
You know this song is about you. It is no secret on campus what their songs mean. A lot of speculations of course, but that is also why everyone is jealous of you.
All your friends are so cool. You go out every night. You have a nice car. You are living the life. You got a pretty face. You got a pretty boyfriend too even though he sucks.
Nobody knows the real you yet everyone wants to be you so bad.
Jealousy, jealousy.
And that is why that makes your lips curve in amusement as you hold gaze with him on the stage. You have been just actually waiting for him to make a move. To bark directly at your face.
Say it on her face, Alex.
Alex may or may not have written this song about you. What better way than is to swallow the nerves and sing it at you to mentally grab your shoulders and shake it hard so you would snap out of whatever you are on currently and why you still chose to stay with that boyfriend of yours that is currently sucking off another girl’s mouth at the opposite side of the balcony?
With one final strum of his electric guitar, the show finally ended. Everyone stayed on the dance floor, now dancing to some random house music a random employee of the club has put on shuffle. The four lads of the band put their instruments securely backstage, placing it on the couch that there is no available seating option now in their shared dressing room, before quickly going out of the club to finally get wasted.
Alex is soon swarmed by strangers whose faces he could not recognise and some familiar ones from university. Shots after shots are handed on him and he downs it all in seconds, trying to get himself drunk to the point where nerves would be numbed down and he would have the courage in him to talk to you afterwards. He has not seen you yet and he wishes to the Gods above that you have not left yet. He tries to tangle his way out over the several hands roaming freely on his chest and back and slightly on his thigh cladded jeans. He does not feel a single electricity from those touches, not even the slightest being turned on right now.
All he wants is to see you. Finally, the drinks have done its intended effect on him.
You are still on the balcony. Now, hidden behind some curtains. Your friends have already invited you to go downstairs and fraternise with strangers, and you just let them know you will follow soon. Your boyfriend is now long gone, probably back on his car and fucking that girl he was making out with the entire show.
Alex is right. How can you wake up next to that guy whom you know you do not love anymore, hell, you are not even sure if you have ever loved him at all, and not feel slightly phased by it?
Alex has finally entangled himself over the group of strangers his best mates are currently chatting with. He still wants to drink and enjoy as he rides away the remnants of what was left of his adrenaline rush, that is why he settled on the bar counter that is from the less crowded side of the club.
That is where you decided to shoot your shot.
“Can I buy the rockstar a drink?” You said loudly, the fake confidence exuding out of you naturally.
He makes you nervous for some reason and you cannot pinpoint the root cause of it, that is why you have always been fascinated by him—because you and him are just the same person.
Alex jumps out of his seat lightly, craning his head back to look at you, watching as you settle yourself on the seat next to him. You are too close, the closest you physically have been with him that he could feel your long cheetah print coat grazing his jean cladded legs and smell that expensive distinct cherry perfume even in his dreams he could somehow smell still. Your long hair is tickling his bare arm as you make yourself comfortable on his side, closer this time, that Alex could now feel the heat of your arm even if there is a thick coat separating the two of you.
His mouth went dry and he could not find his voice as his gaze is fixated on your every move, the way you catch the attention of the bartender effortlessly. He can see up close how your long lashes flutter as you blink, the curve of your shiny pink lips that all he could think of is how it would feel on his own or even better on his cock, and the red blush that coats the tip of your nose.
“I’ll have a Jack and Coke, please. You, Turner?” You move your head to the side and connect stares, which makes Alex’s brain short circuit as to how close your face is right now on his own. He can feel your every exhale, inches away as it hits his lips.
Just one move forward and Alex would capture your lips on his.
“I-I’ll have a pint of beer,” Alex stutters, his voice cracking at the end.
He could facepalm himself right now when he realised what he had done. He let you buy him a drink when it should be him to offer you one, as he thought.
“I’ll cover our second drinks,” Alex immediately informs you as the bartender places the ordered drinks in front of you two.
You bring the glass to your lips to hide the amused smile that has formed. “Already thinking about our second? Damn, Turner. Not so fast.”
That remark made Alex’s cheeks burn hotly, looking away from you as he feared he would get on his knees on the ground to worship you.
“You can call me Alex,” he says quietly, sipping the pint of beer you have bought for him.
You nod, mumbling his name out loud as you familiarise the name to moan by the end of the night. “You can call me anything you want then, Alex.”
That made Alex’s heart skip a beat. Not only the way his name sounds so good from your lips, but from all the possibilities he could call you right now.
Easy there, tiger.
“Thank you for coming tonight. It’s the first time I see you at one of our shows,” Alex shyly says, meeting your eyes as he tries to hold a normal and proper conversation with you.
“You keeping tabs on me, Alex?” You could not help but tease him, a smile to add effect.
Alex’s brown eyes widen, once again like a baby deer caught in headlights. “Sorry! I-I didn’t mean it in a creepy way.”
You just cut him off with a laugh, reaching out to squeeze his arm.
“I really didn’t mean it like a creep,” he once again apologises, clearing his throat. “It was your boyfriend who asked me for some tickets.”
You hum as a response, your mood slightly dampening at the mention of that boyfriend whom you never wanted to remember for the rest of the night.
“Your boyfriend… where is he by the way?”
“Last time I checked, he was snogging some poor lass in the corner,” you shrug to come off as unaffected, because you really could not care less about him.
Alex strangely feels content at your tone, a relief somewhere deep within his bones. He signals the bartender for another round of drinks and true to his words, he paid for it, and he intends to pay all your drinks from this day forward.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he says, not really sorry at all.
And you know it.
“You’re not sorry at all are you, Turner?” You exhale a laugh, sipping your second glass of Jack and Coke.
Alex suddenly had a surge of confidence waving in his bloodstream. He leans forward, resting an elbow on the marble countertop of the bar.
“I’m not sorry. He’s a slag. You’re better off without him. Why are you still with him?”
Your eyes widened and suddenly became interested in his next moves. “I don’t know, Alex. I guess we’ve been together for so long he’s there when I need someone to fuck so it’s convenient.”
“Do you still love him?” He raises his eyebrows, eyes boring into yours deeply.
“Does it matter?” You shrug, returning the same intensity of his stare and moving forward to close your distance an inch.
“Well how can you be with him—“
“Well you mean ‘how can I wake up with someone I don’t love and not feel slightly phased by it?’” You once again tease, using his own song lyrics.
That made Alex become self-conscious, his gaze wavering for a moment as he focused it now on his full pint of beer.
But you are not going to let him come back to hide from his shell when he is suddenly being forward and chatty like this at you. This might be the longest conversation you two have had in history.
“Besides, I don’t think anyone would wanna be with me,” you fake a sigh of disappointment, putting on your best ‘helpless in romance department’ look.
Alex suddenly moves his head to meet your eyes, his face scrunching up in disbelief.
No one would ever want to be with you? That is the most ridiculous thing Alex had ever heard in his life.
“You really think that? You could have anyone in the university if you like. Baby, you could have anyone wrapped around your fingers and we’ll still thank you for it,” Alex breathes out, still in disbelief and not even realising he has momentarily slipped and just admitted how you have him wrapped around your fingers.
“Can I have you then?” You challenge him, batting your eyelashes innocently, and giving your best flirty smile up at him.
Alex let out a silent gasp, mouth staying lightly open as he scans your face for any traces if you are just messing with him. He could not stop looking at your face, how your eyes are already staring right at him. Your lips are formed in a slight pout, looking so inviting. Your hair framing your face perfectly and all he could think are dirty thoughts.
Dirty thoughts spreading through his head like a wildfire. How he would love those smart mouth of yours on his cock with his hand wrapped around your hair as he guides you through it, while being on your knees as he fucks your mouth and you take it like a good girl, trying to open those damn eyes and looking up at him.
You could not help but be entertained with his expression. You watch as Alex stays silently, looking at you, but noticing how his pupils are slowly swallowing his brown irises. You know what he is thinking, you just do not know the way he is thinking it—but you know he is just thinking of fucking the shit out of you, like a gentleman of course.
“Think you can fuck me better than my boyfriend?” You break the silence, pushing the rockstar more out of his comfort zone and to finally make a move on you.
“I know I can fuck you better than that dickhead,” Alex seriously replies, nodding once for more effect.
“That’s what I have been hearing at the campus, Turner. How you’d talk shit about my boyfriend and say you can treat me better than him. Is it true, eh?” You smirk, a finger starts to rub his arm in a teasing manner.
Goosebumps rise on every part you touch, and he is feeling the chill at the back of his neck.
“You know I’m right. He doesn’t deserve you. He’s a fucking prick, can’t even make you satisfied, I bet,” Alex spats out your boyfriend’s name as if it disgusts him to even acknowledge his existence.
Alex himself was shocked at where this wave of confidence had come from. Probably he is still riding his adrenaline rush or the alcohol is now killing all his nerves away and his brain recognises that this is his time to finally take a chance with you.
You are amused but mostly turned on with how he is currently acting. Finally, Alex is making a move.
But it is not enough—you need more.
“Hmm, is that so?”
You lean back, increasing your distance. You start putting your feet on the ground, standing at full height, before placing both of your hands on Alex’s thigh and opening it so that you can situate yourself in between his open legs. With the heels of your boot and the height of the chair, your head aligns perfectly with Alex right now.
Alex on the other hand is frozen. He feels incredibly like an idiot with how easily just one touch, your hands on his thighs are starting to make his dick twitch on his jeans. He could feel himself start to harden, straining to be let out from his cotton boxers that he can feel it pressing on the rough material of his jeans, and he wishes once again from the Gods above that you would not look down and see that he already has a boner just from resting your palms on his thighs and your face inches away from his.
“All bark and no bite, huh? Damn, are you just all bark and no bite, Turner?” You tease him, poking your tongue out to wet your bottom lip before leaning into the junction of his jawline and neck, just where his pulse would be. You could feel how crazy his pulse has become, hopefully it is your doing as you wish from the Gods above, before placing a light kiss on the site and retracting back to meet his eyes once more.
But Alex is having none of this anymore.
He could not control himself as he has been dreaming of doing this and imagining how your lips would have felt and taste like. He places a hand at the back of your head and pulls you in for a kiss. Both of you visibly sighed as soon as your lips met, you instinctively tangled your hands on his already messy hair. It was soft on your palms, as you have thought it would be. You could not help the gasp that has been let out of your throat as Alex greedily bites at your lower lip, swiping afterwards to ease the momentarily pain, and letting himself inside to explore the confines of your mouth. His grip at the back of your neck tightens, as he tilts your head to the side to kiss you deeper. Teeth clashing together, making you shiver and hopelessly moan in satisfaction at the intensity the make out session has gotten, the tip of his nose rubbing sweetly on yours.
There was a round of claps and wolf whistles that broke the two of you out of the world you created and shared together. You pull away with a whine, cursing at yourself for needing oxygen when all you want to do is get lost in him. Alex seemingly has broken out of his trance, feeling shy all of a sudden and cursing at himself for not being able to hold back and control himself with you.
You look at him to see his pupils are blown wide, redness coating the apple of his cheeks beautifully. It was just a kiss and it looks like he has cum already in his jeans, and you feel smug about it—that you have this effect on him this great because you are sure to have soaked your panties already from just one make out session.
“Do you want to, y’know, well…” Alex cuts himself off, giving you ‘the look’ because the poor boy is being swallowed by his nerves alive and it is not helping that he cannot think straight as his dick is pulsing and twitching like crazy on his jeans like a teenage boy that he is.
“Fuck, you mean?”
“Take this somewhere private?” Alex adds, lowering his face to hide at your neck when another round of applause and “get it, Turner” echoes from across the room. You chuckle as the guy in front of you buries his face deeper in your neck if that is even physically possible, ruffling his hair on one hand and putting out your middle finger at the people teasing the both of you.
“Take me, Alex.”
Alex grabs your hand to lead you back in their small makeshift dressing room. As the two of you getaway from the crowd, his nerves amplified with each step. His shaky hands twist the old rusty doorknob, blindly finding the light switch on the wall that would illuminate the room.
You could feel his hand tighten on yours, a slight shake if you concentrate still. The small room greeted you, it was messy and everywhere you looked, there was either an article of clothing or a musical instrument resting on it.
“Nice room,” you joke, trying to break the silence and help to ease what Alex might be thinking.
Alex muttered curses under his breath when he saw the mountain of equipment resting on the settee, the only furniture to sit on. He looks at you apologetically, opening his mouth already to say something.
“I’m so sorry, let me move those things first so we could have something to sit on,” he informs you, walking to step forward already, but you grab his arm to stop him, an idea suddenly pops into your mind. He looks at you in confusion, halting in his step to wait for your words.
You give him a mischievous look, a smile painting your swollen lips. You point at the small wooden table at the middle of the room which is surprisingly empty then looking up to gauge his reaction at your implied proposition. Alex’s mouth was formed into an ‘o’, before looking back at you.
“You can have me bent over on the table and fuck me from behind,” you shrug and propose as if asking him normally what he eats for a Sunday dinner.
Alex was so horny at the idea that it made his head dizzy.
“But I want to see your face,” he whispers in reply.
You choked out on your own saliva, not expecting such a reply. You cough multiple times as you try to get your breathing back to normal, hitting Alex on his chest.
“You freaky shit,” you said in disbelief, laughing and coughing at the same time.
Freaky romantic shit.
You saw a mirror attached at the door and had another crazy idea.
“There’s a mirror there.”
Alex got the memo and soon brought the table so now it is situated in the middle of the room, in front of the mirror. You tested it and went around, bending over and resting your arms on the wooden furniture, eyes trained forward and you could see yourself clearly and Alex’s figure and how his eyes widened out of its sockets when he saw you at the position.
It looks obscene, even if you two have not yet started anything yet.
You stand up straight and turn around facing him again, resting your arse on the wooden table. Alex is looking at you with a nervous energy, biting his lips and looking everywhere but you.
You grab the collar of his shirt and pull him in closer, a hand moving upwards to rest on his cheeks and bring his eyes on you. Alex stares at you shyly, biting the inside of his cheeks as he stares at you softly and silently.
“Now kiss me, you fool.”
With those five words, something snapped inside of Alex—the beast had been let out, let it roam free, and took over the functions of his body.
You close your eyes at the intensity of his lips attacking you all so suddenly. His right hand slides up to hold your hair, pulling it roughly in the direction he wants, earning a gasp that made him easily enter his tongue once more. He kisses you like you are his source of his oxygen, tasting every inch inside of you. Your tongue tries to fight dominance with him, but it is futile and it submits to Alex’s lead as he guides the pace of the kiss. He swallows every moan and gasp that you involuntarily let out, heaving a breath of mercy and please at the same time, wanting to breathe but at the same time not wanting to break the kiss and let him annihilate you completely.
Alex marks his presence on you. He moves his hands downwards to roam your body, memorising every curve and feeling that you bring on his palm as he touches and touches you blindly everywhere physically. He hastily removes your coat, touch faltering for a second, unsure of touching you more intimately. You rest your hand on top of his, guiding him to squeeze your tits which made you both moan at each other’s mouth. He disconnects your lips together, making you whine in protest before it is replaced by a hum of satisfaction as he latches his mouth on your neck to find your sensitive spot. As soon as a light moan was replied, he licked a stripe on your sensitive spot and bite down hard, sucking to ease the pain, but the pain only brought additional pleasure as his hands has now reached to lift the ends of your slip satin dress, caressing your inner thighs softly.
“You feel so good. Been dreamin’ of you, baby,” Alex presses his mouth hotly at your ears, nipping at your earlobe.
One hand moving up to play with the material of your already soaked panties. Every moan and words that pours out of his lips seems like he was not aware he is saying them and that drives you even more wild.
You decided you need to taste him and have him fill your mouth completely. You push his chest just enough to stand once more at full height, knees wobbling at the impact of your feet on the ground. Alex’s eyes open in confusion, worry soon overtaking his features and he is ready to ask you if he did something wrong but he is silenced when you slowly bring yourself on your knees, never breaking eye contact.
This is what Alex’s dreams are made of.
Two shaking hands with excitement start to unbuckle his thick belt when Alex stops the actions of your fingers.
“One sec.”
He turns around and hurriedly leaps across the room to retrieve something. As soon as he makes his way back to you, you can see that he is now holding a pillow to which he offers to you. Without a word, he bent down and tapped your leg to make you kneel on the pillow he brought instead of kneeling on the cold tiled floor.
What a gentleman.
You continued your actions, hearing him swallow loudly and clear his throat. You could see the outline of his cock pressing painfully on his blue jeans, and you finally decide to relieve him of the rough material and bring his jeans down to his feet. There is a small patch of wetness that has stained his white cotton boxers. You bring your palms to rub his thighs through the cotton material, his cock twitching inside, and looking up to meet his eyes.
Alex swears he could come right there and then at the sight of you. On your knees and looking up innocently at him, your warm mouth centimetres away from his aching cock. He watches as you carefully hold the waistband of his boxers, pulling it down slowly to his ankles. His cock sprang up freely, your eyes widening at his length which could be the thickest you have seen and will ever have. Alex’s cock is standing proudly and grazing your cheeks, the red tip is leaking precum, and the veins around his shaft are angrily carved along his member.
You have no time to think how it would fit on your mouth, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out to give him soft kitten licks to start. Alex shivers at the sensation, hands bunched on his side as he does not know what to do with them. He swallows a moan as your warm mouth envelopes just his tip, tongue swirling to clean off the precum that oozed manically at your actions. You look up to see Alex’s eyes closed tightly, concentrating with all his being not to thrust up and let you take all of him down your throat and make you swallow all of his release without a drop being wasted.
“God, please,” he moans out loud, thighs shaking as you take another inch of him in your mouth.
He is really big, you thought. There is no way you would be able to take all of him all at once without easing it on your throat inch by inch. You could feel how Alex is holding himself back, but you want him to lose his composure and let him take control.
You pull back, his cock hitting your face in the process. Alex’s eyes opened in worry, eyes blinking innocently. He watches as you spit on his cock, the string of saliva from your lips connecting to his swollen red tip, and he could not hold himself back as he needs something to hold on to. One hand unclenches to rest at the back of your head, slightly taking a fistful of your hair with a loud gasp when your hand starts to pump his cock up and down, spreading your saliva all over him as lube, before bringing your mouth back on him and sucking him wetly.
“Just take all that you can, baby. I promise, you feel so fucking good already,” Alex whimpers when he feels you gag a bit when you try to take more of him. He gathers your hair into a ponytail, slowly guiding your head up and down.
But you want to give him the best head he will ever have in his life. You suck in a deep breathe through your nose as you try to open and relax more of your throat, one hand twisting the part of his cock that you cannot fit on your mouth, the other went to massage his balls as you determinedly bob your head faster and deeper, tongue massaging every ridge of his cock and trying not your teeth graze him. You moan at the fullness, sending vibrations to add to the sensations of pleasure coursing through Alex’s body.
And Alex is a goner. His senses had been heightened, trying to control the involuntary jerk of his hips that made his cock plunge deeper on your throat and gagging as his swollen tip kissed the back of your throat. His grip on your hair has tightened, knees buckling and he could feel the pleasure even at the tip of his feet, bringing him closer to a powerful orgasm.
That is when he finally pulled you off from his cock, a gasp tore from the back of his throat as he try to manage not coming down your throat because he wants to be able to fuck you and have you come on his cock before he can finally reach his own.
“So close. So so close, love,” Alex exhales shakily, fluttering his eyes open to look at you from your kneeling position.
You stayed where you are, giving him a pout because you want more. Alex’s eyes burn into you, wide pupils completely swallowing his brown irises and his self control diminishing inch by inch per second.
“You want to be a good girl, huh?” He muses, a palm coming down wipe the saliva from the corner of your mouth. He places his thumb on your lips, slowly parting it and making you suck at his thumb which you took obediently whilst nodding fervently at his question.
“You want to be my good girl?”
All you could do is moan as a response, sucking and licking at the entirety of his thumb while trying to look up at him.
“What will your boyfriend say when he sees you like this and I have not fucked you yet?” He says with mock patronisation, clicking his tongue as he ‘tsk’ in amusement.
The mention of your boyfriend did not dampen your mood this time, but had the opposite effect only. God, you wish he could see how Alex treats you right now, already fucked and both of you are only just starting.
There is a silent communication between the two of you, and he knows what you are wanting him to do.
“Put your hands behind your back.”
And you did what Alex commanded.
You open your mouth once more, tongue out as you gaze up at him expectantly. His eyes darkened, fist tightening around your hair as he guided you to take his cock once more, pushing your head down roughly to take all of him down your throat.
You let him use your mouth, let him let go of the softness and control and finally act on his desire. He starts to fuck your warm mouth, your nose hitting his soft tummy at every rough push of his hand on your head.
You gag every time his cock slides on your throat, but you hold it back. It burns, but you concentrate on being good for him and let him enjoy as his tip nudges the back of your throat over and over and rougher and rougher at each thrusts he delivers.
“I bet all you want to be is to be someone’s good girl and to put you in your place, baby, that’s why you misbehave around the campus,” Alex breathily moans in ecstasy, making you whimper in agreement.
Alex lets out an animalistic groan at the feeling of your throat gagging and squeezing his hard cock, the warm and wetness adding sensation to the pleasure that heightens his senses.
“Need someone to fuck your smart mouth to shut you up, yeah?” He adds, his hips twitching as he drives on your mouth forward, still being careful and attentive of your reaction.
Tears falling freely down your face and saliva out of your lips. You focus on breathing through your nose that is also being tickled by his happy trail, but choking once in a while at the intensity of his roughness.
And oh, the sweet sounds he is making right now. You could not open your eyes, but God, what beautiful sounds he makes as he produces wrecked moans that get louder and louder every time.
And Alex finally pulls you off.
With hands still behind your back, coughing as you try to regain your breath. The fresh air suddenly feels good on your lungs, inhaling through your mouth. You feel his hands on your jaw, rubbing it soothingly as it must have ached greatly.
You could feel the concern flowing in his body and you just looked up at him implicitly telling him through your stare that you are okay while still coughing and trying to catch your breath.
When you look up, Alex swears this is the image he wants to be burned at the back of his eyelids that every time he will close his eyes, this is what he will see.
Your messy hair falling all over your face, some strands sticking as sweat beads have formed on your forehead. Your eyeliner has smeared lightly, pupils wide blown with lust as you look at him submissively. Streaks of tears staining your cheeks, natural blush coating the apples of them. Red lips are incredibly swollen, your lip gloss has been smeared all around your mouth and some even coating his dick.
You look so incredibly beautifully fucked out right now.
Alex looks at you in awe. The way you look at him makes him feel that you will let him do anything to you and you would follow it without complaint.
And you probably will.
Alex reaches out to wipe the tears away, rubbing your cheeks in fascination that he was the one to put you in this state.
“Get up, peach,” Alex commanded softly, bending down to hold your arms.
He helps you, knees buckling from kneeling for too long and thank God it did not hurt as it would have been if you kneeled without the pillow.
“Are you okay?” He asks in concern, scanning your face for every reaction.
You blink at him multiple times, seriously wondering why he is not your boyfriend instead.
“Fuck yes,” you reply, voice cracking at then. “Fuck me, Turner.”
Without a word, Alex spins you around, eliciting a shocked gasp from you. Your head becomes dizzy from the events, the lust and want badly brewing inside your stomach.
He wraps your hair around his hand, twisting it and pulling you to stand up straight and lean back on his taut body. You could feel his hard cock pressing and wetting your satin dress, surely leaving his precum to stain it and another way of marking you as his.
“Look at us in the mirror.”
You whimper, staring at him through the reflection of the mirror before pushing you gently down to bend for him. Arms pulled in a plank position, your coat softening the hardness of the table.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” He genuinely asks, and your heart flutters.
“Alex, I swear to God if I don’t want you at all, I won’t let you fuck my mouth just like you did seconds ago,” you hiss, pushing back your arse in the air for him.
He chuckles at your eagerness, momentarily bending down to retrieve a packet of condom at the back pocket of his jeans.
He lifts your dress up to your waist, one finger hooking on your lace panties down to your knees. You watch him through the mirror, his face with a look of full amazement, as he collects your wetness and spreads it on your hole, finally touching you where you need him the most for the first time tonight.
A moan of satisfaction rings through his ears. You push your arse more to chase his fingers, and he gives it to you. Two fingers easily sliding in with how your wetness slicked his hand, stretching you to an unfamiliar degree with how long and rough of callouses his fingers are. Pumping it slowly, coaxing every natural wetness to gush out your pussy that you could feel it obscenely drip down your thighs and hear the slick sound at every pump of Alex’s fingers. You sob his name in ecstasy and his name only, clutching your coat as he enters his third finger to scissor you open, crying out loud to the unfamiliar pressure as you have not had something this big to stretch you.
Not even your boyfriend has ever felt like this and this was just his fingers.
He expertly rubs your soft walls, searching for that spongy spot and with just the right twist of his hand, he has you shaking at the table and squirting out wetness all over his palm.
“You need to fuck me now, Al, I’m begging you,” you cry out pathetically.
“Look at me, baby,” he coos, pulling at your hair just enough to lift your head up from the wooden table and connect your stares at the mirror.
You can feel the tip of his cock slowly entering you. As it stretches you out, you could not help but silently open your mouth as you at the pressure whilst trying to hold your stare with Alex in the mirror with his hand wrapped still around your hair and tugging it upwards at his free will, him making you feel every vein and structure of him inside your walls.
“Eyes on us, peach.”
He is not just thrusting his cock inside of you, he is making you memorise everything and making you feel every inch of him and carve your walls to remember to fit his cock and his cock only.
God, dominance with a hint of shyness looks good on him.
And he was the one to break eye contact.
Alex could not help but close his eyes as he held your hips and rails you that got the table moving and sliding forwards, and it made you slightly scared the legs of the wooden table would give out. He rocks his hips roughly that got you moaning like a mess. He bent down on your level, kissing your neck softly. He keeps on giving sweet little kisses on your neck, your shoulder blades, as if to compensate over the growing harsh thrusts his hips deliver on you.
Every moan of pleasure of Alex is drowned by your shaky cries which is thankfully masked by the loud speakers of the club, blasting some random song.
Dirty words are whispered in your ear, each encouragement brings you to your much awaited release.
“Fuck, so fucking tight. Hasn’t your boyfriend fucking you good?”
“Yes, just like that. You’re my good girl, yeah? Mine, yeah?”
“You look so pretty, baby.”
“God, this cock is only made for your cunt. You feel me, baby?”
“I’m not gonna last long, Al,” you choke out, trying with all your might not to orgasm right there and then.
Alex reaches one hand down to rub your clit as he continues to drive his hips and nail you completely down the table, his balls slapping loudly on your arse cheeks. Your fingernails try to scratch the wooden table, clutching on it for dear life, and gasping for air as the electricity of pleasure courses through your veins.
“Are you gonna come on my cock like the good girl that you are?” Alex nips at your earlobe, massaging your scalp as he pushes your head down the table and makes you take everything he gives you.
You nod your head eagerly, clenching around his cock as an affirmative response. A surprised whimper tears at the back of your throat when a spank was delivered on your left arse cheek, and that is what it takes for you to finally release all over his cock that is still fucking you as you ride the last bits of your orgasm and him chase his own.
Alex looks at your reflection in the mirror, whining at how dirty the scene unfolds right before his eyes. He has been dreaming of this—but nothing has ever prepared him for the real deal.
“Yes, attagirl, coming so good for me,” Alex murmurs, biting his lip as his own orgasm hits him hard.
Alex’s eyes roll hard at the back of his head as he lets himself lose control once again and feel everything all at once. His thrusts staggered, plunging his cock deep inside of you and he could hear the dirty wet sound of your cum squelching as he drove into you one last time and finally coming on the rubber latex, burying his cock so deep he could actually feel you raw and without the protection.
You take all of him even after your orgasm, shaking at the sensitivity. You try to give him praises, and sweet words to urge him on his sweet release. Your legs are ready to give out, but you continue to push your arse back to meet his thrust and you could feel the way he snapped his hips, the animalistic growl that came out from Alex’s mouth, and the feel of his warm release on the condom that he has finally reached his end.
You both lay bent together at the table, his upper body pressing you down the table, making you not able to move at all. The aftershocks of orgasm soon kicking in, with you still shaking and Alex’s muscles twitching every now and then, both completely spent.
After a while, he pulls out carefully and two fingers dip to collect some of your orgasm, making you reluctantly open your eyes, and through the mirror, you witness as Alex brings it on his lips, closes his eyes and moans at the taste of you.
“God, you are filthy, Turner,” you croak out a laugh, him now tying the condom to a knot and sets it beside you.
Alex chuckled, both of you not moving—him still standing and you still bent on the poor wooden table.
He proceeds to rub your hips soothingly and tries to massage your lower back that earns a hum of satisfaction, making you sleepy at his actions.
After a few beats of comfortable silence, Alex swallows thickly before opening his lips.
“Was that good?” He asks shyly, red blush covering his cheeks.
You did not get to answer and tease him, when the door unexpectedly swings open. Alex’s bandmates stopped on their track at the door, eyes widening in shock at the sight in front of them.
You are unbothered, the opposite actually. There is an amused and smug smile that starts to form on your lips, not moving at all and staying bent over the table. From their angle, they are not seeing anything naked body part of yours, but only your ‘just got fucked’ face and your position of being bent on the table.
On the other hand, Alex is behind you with his jeans and boxers around his ankles, his softening dick still out for everyone to see, especially his bandmates who are in front of him.
“Get out!” Alex screeches, stumbling backwards as he tries to get a hold of his pants and pull it upwards to cover his legs and dick, but not before pulling your dress down as if they would see what is on the other side of the table.
The three lads remained immobile and frozen, still speechless that it made you laugh out loud, but still not moving. Their eyes flickered at you after hearing your laughter.
You just gave them a wink, their faces going red and looking away at you instantly.
“GET OUT!” Alex practically screams, his voice booming in the room and that made his three mates hurriedly stumble out and shut the door.
You once again let out a hearty laugh, finally standing up. Stretching your back and your arms and finally turning around to meet his eyes once again.
“Sorry about them,” Alex says sheepishly, a hand rubbing the nape of his neck.
You scrunch your nose in amusement. “Sorry that they see how you fucked me good? Nah, let them see and spread the word around.”
Alex seemingly returning back to how he acts around you before you two have fucked, not being able to hold an eye contact with you.
“You had your fingers and cock deep inside me already and shoved your cock down my mouth, don't tell me you’ll still act nervous and shy around me,” You could not help but tease him, deepening the blush that formed in his face.
Alex finally looks at you, his brown irises returning back.
“Do you want to…” he shrugs and trails off his sentence, unsure of where you two stood after just having mindblowing sex.
“A round two at your place?” You continue in a joking manner, but not kidding at all.
His eyes widened like a cute baby deer, still not used to this kind of interaction with you.
“Well yeah, but I was gonna ask if you want to grab dinner or a date, you know if you’re not with your boyfriend anymore?” Alex stutters out, looking at you with those big brown doe eyes.
See? What a gentleman.
“Yep I’d love that. Dinner at your place? Wait for the take out delivery while we do round two?” You lightly joke but he is already nodding his head. You chuckle at his enthusiasm.
“Come on, let me treat you better and properly.”
You roll your eyes playfully as he helps you put on your coat, fixing your hair as if he did not use it as a leash minutes ago.
“Good that you’re taking me back to your place because there’s one rumour I need to fact check.”
Alex stops for a second, giving you a curious look.
“And what would that be?”
A smirk painted your swollen lips.
“I know already you fuck good, but they say you fuck good in bed. Since this is a table, I’d need to test it on a bed.”
Alex breathes out a chuckle, shyly shaking his head. He looks at you, eyes glinting with mischief.
“Oh baby, I’d show you everything.”
This is certainly a different writing style/approach from what I usually do. Writing in this way makes me giggle like a teenage girl like I am actually witnessing these scenes unfold before my eyes.
This might be my last piece in a while (for this month) as I would be starting a new school year! I have looots that I have planned to write and for sure, I would still be writing, but slowly and with shorter time as uni keeps me super busy and exhausted (not even started and I cannot wait for Christmas holidays already).
I’m curious to anyone who reads this or just in general in Tumblr: are you still in school or now working? How do you manage your time?
If you have something to say or ask or request— just reach out, please! 🤎
Hey how are you do you take requests x
Bonjour! I’m doing good and amazing, thank you for asking. And yes, I do take requests. Might take a while for me to deliver it, because I write oh so slow, but I will make sure to complete it as soon as I can! Just drop a message or another anon in the inbox, and I’ll see what I can do about it.
Sweet Cherry
。・:*:・゚༓・*˚⁺‧゚͙+..。*゚+˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚₊✩。˚☽
word count : 6,505
warnings : hes finally happy!!! honeymoon sex, unprotected sex, spooning position, missionary, creampie, domestic al
The trolley squeaked gently as Alex lazily pushed it along the aisles, the shelves around you stacked with neat rows of unfamiliar packaging, labelled with text you couldn't understand, dressed up in fancy fonts.
His shoes scuffed along the tiled floor with a muffled huff of his rubber soles against the ceramic as he looked anywhere but where he was walking, the cart occasionally swerving too far in one direction and bumping against a shelf with a metallic clang, rattling both what was inside of your trolley and the items that were piled onto the rack.
“I don't know how you drive it so awfully,” you said in passing as you browsed through packets of strangely shaped crisps, the plastic wrappers crinkling as you tried to read the labels, the Italian staring back at you just as blankly as you were staring at it.
“Not my fault it's got a dodgy wheel,” he retorted with a smile, bending down slightly as he rested his forearms on the handle of the shopping cart as he watched you.
You turned your head over your shoulder to glance at the legs of the trolley. “The wheels are fine.”
He shot you a playful glare before backtracking. “I meant my dodgy wheel.”
You stared at him for a moment with half confusion and half mock disgust before turning your head back to the crisps as you muttered, “Gross.”
You heard him chuckle. “What's gross about my dodgy wheel?”
You felt his arms snake around your waist from behind, tucking his face into the crook of your neck, his soft hair tickling you gently as he pressed a few kisses there. “I don't want to know about your dodgy wheel.”
“If we're married now, there shouldn't be any shame or secrets,” he murmured against your skin. “Especially about our dodgy wheels, Mrs. Turner.”
You laughed, just a sharp breath of air through your nostrils. “That's not my name yet.”
“It will be soon. I'll handle all the paperwork for it.”
“You should take my surname instead,” you said, turning your head to the side to meet his eyes.
“Mine's better,” he mumbled before lifting his head to press another kiss, this time to your cheek.
“Rude,” you managed to say before he cut you off by pressing his lips to yours, almost with the same fervour he had the day before at the altar.
His mouth moved with yours for just a few seconds before his tongue poked at your lower lip, and you pulled back with a smile, your eyes slightly squinted. “I'm not having mouth sex with you in the middle of a shop, Al.”
He scoffed, looking at you with faux annoyance before turning back to the cart. “Suit yourself.”
The contents of the trolley was a mismatched pile of impulse and small comforts, a few unfamiliar items that you insisted on getting to be authentic, coffee pods that may or may not fit in the machine in the hotel, and a growing stack of normalities in the far corner of the cart.
You sighed as you watched him sling in another pack of Haribos, the bright colours and waving bear on the plastic bag almost taunting. “Why are you only getting stuff we can get back home?”
He looked at you, his eyebrows slightly raised. “I thought you were getting the fancy stuff. I'm just getting stuff we know we like, in case we don't like the fancy stuff.”
You tutted. “We didn't come to Italy to eat sausage rolls and digestives.”
His expression turned to one of disbelief, almost offended. “Look at these,” he said, plucking a four-pack of small tiramisu pots from the cart that he'd put in and holding them up dramatically. “Tiramisu. Doesn't get much more Italian than that.”
You stared at him for a moment, letting a long pause settle between you. “You're not allowed to put anything else in the trolley.”
He groaned. “What if I put in something Italian?”
“Not when your idea of Italian is tiny pots of shitty tiramisu that's been mass produced since the seventies.”
You took the trolley from his grip, wrapping your fingers around the handle and drifting away from him down the aisle, leaving him stranded and staring at the sweets with the fascination of a five year old.
You strolled through the shop, your eyes scanning over the shelves, and a wave of goosebumps rippled over your exposed skin as you turned the cart into the produce aisle, the cooler air dusting over your arms as you approached a large box stacked full of cherry punnets, scooting past a young boy arguing with his mother in rapid Italian.
The fluorescent overhead lights flickered slightly while you bent down to inspect each pack of cherries, sifting through them one by one, frowning at anything too anemic.
You'd always preferred the darker ones, ones that were near black, ones that were the colour of blood and stained your tongue and lips with its deep red juice.
You picked up a punnet, satisfied with the colour and plumpness of them, and you carefully placed them in the trolley before crouching down, searching the lower stacks for another pack that harboured that same almost violent colour, before a voice behind you pierced through your peacefulness.
“Unbelievable,” he said gravely. “Do you think it's funny to abandon me alone?”
You turned your head and looked up from your squat to see him stood there with a wounded expression on his face, and clutching a pale blue box of breadsticks in one hand, trying to cover the label like he didn't want you to see what he had.
“Didn't abandon you,” you said, twisting your head back towards the cherries. “You looked enamoured by those sweets. Thought I should give you two a moment.”
He stepped closer to the trolley, the breadsticks in his hand rattling against the cardboard. “Are you getting two?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Because you'll eat most of them before we're even back at the hotel,” you said, fishing out a second punnet of cherries after deciding they were a satisfactory colour.
You stood up and turned, slotting the second pack right beside the first, and you looked down at the box he was gripping again, seeing he was still trying to be discreet about it. “What you got there, Al?” you teased.
He smiled sheepishly, inching his hand towards the cart. “You like breadsticks, don't you, love?”
“You like breadsticks.”
“But you like them too, don't you?” he said, trying to be careful as he dropped them into the trolley, but the box hit the metal with a rattling thunk, disturbing the serenity of everything else you'd neatly packed into the cart.
You smiled. “They're okay. Dry if you don't have anything else with them.”
“Do you want me to get a dip?”
You sighed, hesitating for a moment before saying, “That's the last thing you're allowed to put in the trolley, then.”
You watched as he darted off, and you began to make an attempt at reorganising the cart after his clumsy disposal of the breadsticks had jostled everything about.
You picked up the box, a dull golden colour splayed across the front of the cardboard like a thick ribbon, the words jumbled to you, but you could make out two words. Plain. Unsalted. Typical of him.
“Got this one,” you heard his voice behind you approaching, accompanying his scuffed, lazy footsteps, and he held up the pot as he got closer. “Garlic and herb one. All the others were shit.”
You turned towards him, a small smile on your lips as you took the pot from him, the plastic cool against your fingers, and you neatly placed it in the cart.
“I'm done now. Honest. We don't need anything else, do we?” he said, his eyes briefly flickering over the contents of the trolley.
“Let's get a wine. Then we'll be done,” you said, gripping the handle of the cart again and turning it, purposefully knocking him in the hip with the end of it.
He yelped, shifting out of the way as he muttered, “Horrible.”
The wine section stretched across a large wall, dusty bottles wrapped in cream or black coloured labels with curly, looping Italian script and years that meant nothing to you stamped in bold just above the text.
You stood side by side, both of you quietly scanning the rows of pale greens and deep burgundies, all appearing softer in colour beneath the yellow overhead lighting.
He'd grown uncharacteristically serious, almost comically so, his eyes flicking from one bottle to the next with unadulterated focus, though you suspected he was mostly just judging them by how nice the labels looked instead of trying to understand what region it came from or what kind of grape it had been squeezed out of.
You trailed your fingers along the necks of a few bottles as you passed, letting your nails clink gently against the glass as you continued pushing the trolley with the other hand, and Alex walked beside you, frowning slightly in confusion.
“I feel like a fraud,” he muttered half-jokingly as he leaned forward slightly to get a better look at one of the labels. “Reckon we can just pick the prettiest one and pretend we know what we're doing?”
“Isn't that what we do anyway?” you laughed, watching him squint at the text.
You continued to browse through the bottles for a few more moments, before eventually settling on a bottle sat on the bottom shelf, the liquid inside a deep purple colour, and it was wrapped in a black label that was almost velvety to the touch.
“This one,” you said, holding the bottle in your hands as if it were a newborn baby.
He took it from you, wrapping his fingers around the neck, and he gasped softly at the weight, the noise turning into a chuckle. “Christ, it's got some heft, hasn't it?”
He turned it in his palm and tucked it beneath his arm to carry it as you laughed.
A short queue had formed at the checkout, so you joined it, neither of you saying much as the wine went on the conveyor belt with the cherries, the breadsticks, the tiramisu pots, the funny shaped coffee pods, and the ridiculous stack of snacks that was definitely too ambitious for the four short days you were going to be spending there.
The cashier rang everything through with a practiced disinterest. Alex paid, and you bagged.
As you approached them, the automatic doors wheezed open with a hiss, and the sunlight hit your skin directly, a bit harsher, as opposed to filtered through a window.
Alex had the bags, both of them. It hadn't even been much of a discussion, he'd just picked the two of them and slung them over his shoulders with a grunt. You thought he was just doing it to show off, even though the bags weren't that heavy.
“You know,” he said as you walked down the warm cobbled street towards the hotel, “this wasn't in the vows.”
You glanced his way from beside him. “What wasn't?”
“Being your human pack mule.”
You smiled. “I think it was implied.”
He gave you a look, but there was no bite to it. His shirt was stuck to his back already, from the heat, but he pretended it was from how much weight he was holding, and he was squinting under his fringe against the sun, but he was smiling. That faint, boyish smile that he always wore, the one that had always made your chest tighten a little.
You walked slowly, admiring the detailed architecture and buildings as you strolled, the peacefulness occasionally interrupted by the grating sound of him groaning, as if he was doing so much work.
“Still can't believe you got Haribos,” you said, your voice laced with partial mock disappointment. “Uncultured.”
“Tiramisu pots,” he reminded you proudly.
“Okay, Raffaele Esposito,” you said teasingly, maybe a little too confident in your knowledge.
He looked at you for a moment as you both continued walking. “...That's the guy who made pizza.”
You scoffed. “Well, excuse me for not knowing every Italian person ever, Alex.”
He chuckled as he spoke, “The tiramisus do look good though.”
“They look beige.”
“I'll remember that for when you're elbow deep in the fourth pot like a raccoon later tonight then.”
You snorted and the two of you kept walking as the air buzzed with the faint whir of mopeds in the distance and the high-pitched whine of cicadas. Around the corner, just before the stone path sloped upward towards your hotel, a movement behind the wall caught your eye.
A cat.
Thin, long-limbed, with a honeyed cream colour and faint grey smudges across its face and ears like it had been dusted with ash. It stretched out lazily as you approached, yawning with a small squeak that made your heart flutter.
“Hello,” you murmured softly, offering your hand low and open, your fingers curved slightly in. The cat didn't flinch or lower its tail, instead, it leaned in, sniffed, and bunted its forehead against your knuckles warmly, purring with a force and a volume that surprised you, the sweet crescendo almost deafening.
You scratched lightly behind its ears, then down its narrow back, feeling each bump of its spine shift under the skin. It melted under your touch, completely pliant, its little ribs fluttering with each breath it took as it flopped onto its side, begging for more tickles.
Alex hovered behind you for a moment before setting one of the bags down with a dramatic sigh. “Witch,” he muttered.
“Cat whisperer,” you corrected as your fingertips danced along the little creature's soft fur.
“How is it obsessed with you already?” he asked, his voice slightly strained as he crouched beside you, holding his fingers out as well. The cat gave him a quick, polite sniff, then immediately turned its face back towards your palm.
He blinked, feeling rejected. “See?”
“It knows I'm a kind soul,” you said, your voice peaceful.
You ran your fingers along the cat's arched spine before bringing your hand back up to its cheek, and you asked, “Can we get a cat?”
He stood back up with a small grunt as he straightened his back. “Maybe.”
You looked up at him, squinting against the evening light as you kept scratching the cat. “Can we get a cat?” you asked again, slightly changing your tone of voice.
He stared down at you for a moment, the sun catching in the soft creases at the corner of his eyes, and he couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips.
“Yeah,” he finally said. “Yeah, alright. Let's get a cat.”
You smiled up at him, a real smile, before you looked back down at the cat who was slowly getting up, and allowed a few more tickles before wandering off into the shadow of a nearby lemon tree, seemingly satisfied with its conquest.
You blew a kiss to the small animal, and Alex's hand lightly brushed over yours before interlacing your fingers together, and he murmured, “Come on, love,” you could hear the soft smile in his voice. “Don't want our lovely tiramisus to go off.”
The hotel stood tall and large against the sunset landscape right at the top of the steep path you'd been navigating, the building looking like it should belong on a postcard, or in a painting.
You pushed open the hotel room door with your shoulder while Alex trailed behind you, the cool air conditioning brushing over your skin like an occasional breeze on a scorching hot summer's day.
Inside the room, it smelled faintly of overly sterilised surfaces, a scent that was sure not to last long, sunscreen, and your shared mess; two suitcases cracked open and half-unpacked, his sunglasses forgotten on the floor, and your sandals tipped over by the balcony door.
He let the shopping bags drop onto the corner of the bed with a sigh of triumph, dramatically stretching and rolling his arms and shoulders. “We survived commerce,” he declared boldly. “Now begins the leisure.”
You rolled your eyes, already peeling open the first bag as he flopped onto the bed, pretending to be far more exhausted than he probably was. “You mean I survived commerce. All you did was carry the bags.”
“Tiramisu pots,” he said, his voice almost the volume of a shout as he splayed his arms and legs out on the mattress as if he were making a snow angel. “And I provided morale.”
You ignored him and began unpacking, shuffling and stacking things around in the minuscule fridge. It was almost laughable how small it was. You rearranged the two small water bottles that were already inside, trying to make space as you wedged the cherry punnets in, the plastic packs crinkling as you forced them in, and you slid the tiramisu pots beside them, the sides of the small containers caving inwards slightly at the awkward angle. You didn't even bother trying to fit the wine in.
The cupboard, high up, narrow, and shallow, took the dry things, the breadsticks, some crisps, little foil-wrapped biscuits that looked better than they'd probably taste, and whatever else Alex had picked up. You moved methodically, or at least, you tried to. Cramming and stuffing the items in like it was tetris, and each time you thought you had it, something else toppled out, until you gave up, resorting to shutting the door as quick as you could before giving anything the chance to fall. It didn't help that there was also a pan in there, as well as a chipped bowl that someone must've left behind years ago.
Behind you, he made no effort to help. Of course he didn't. When you glanced over your shoulder at him, he was still spread out on the bed like he'd melted, his shirt slightly twisted, his jeans too low on his hips, and he was watching you with that lazy, amused look in his eye.
“What?” you asked, setting the wine on the side in a spot you thought it looked nice in.
“Nothing,” he said, tucking his hands behind his head. “You just look very…” He paused as if trying to find the right word, though it was obvious he wasn't trying at all. “Bendable.”
You huffed out a laugh. “Idiot.”
He didn't try to defend himself, and instead, you heard the creak of the mattress as he made his way to you, then you felt the warmth of his body pressing in against your back, his arms curling around your waist from behind, his mouth at your neck, his voice low and soothing in a way only he could still manage after being the most irritating person alive.
“I missed you in the shop,” he murmured, nosing at that sensitive spot just below your ear. “Wandering off without me… leaving your poor husband alone… like a very bad wife…”
He sighed dramatically, trying to harbour your pity. “I had a moment of crisis in that sweet aisle… and you weren't there to guide me…”
“You poor thing.”
“Mhm,” he kissed that same spot just below your ear, watching how you tilted into it, and he pressed another one just below your jaw, his hands slipping lower and lower until you pressed your palm over one of them.
“Do you want some wine?” you murmured softly, clutching his hand gently, and he paused, perking up at the mention of the wine.
He smiled and lifted his head slightly, his nose brushing against the side of your face. “I'll pour it, baby. Go lie down.”
He pressed one final kiss to your cheek before you stepped out of his arms upon him reluctantly loosening his grip, your shirt rumpled from where his hands had been tugging and pulling, and you walked barefoot across the room, the hem of your trousers dragging on the floor.
You shimmied out of them, leaving them in a small heap on the floor at the end of the bed, and you left your shirt on as you settled into the sheets, nestling into the mattress.
Across the room, he rummaged in the little cupboard beneath the counter, things clinking and clattering as he rifled through it with the gracefulness of a bull in a China shop. It was almost painful to listen to. Eventually, he emerged with two ceramic mugs, one off-white with a chip in the handle, the other faded terracotta with the hotel's logo half-scratched off.
He uncorked the wine with a gentle pop, giving it a quick sniff before he poured, the liquid dark and glinting as it sloshed into the mugs. He set the bottle back on the side, the cork half wedged back into the opening, and he brought the mugs over to the bed.
“Five stars,” he said, showing them to you proudly. “Luxury.”
You laughed softly, letting your arms stretch behind your head briefly before you reached for the mug he held out to you. The light from the window cast long shapes across the bed, stripes of warmth splaying over the fabric of your shirt on your stomach.
“Cheers,” he murmured before raising his own mug to his lips and taking a sip.
He settled into the bed beside you, placing the mug on the bedside table for a moment as he struggled to shift out of his jeans before finally tossing them aside on the floor with his feet, his shirt not long following after.
You sipped your wine as you watched him struggle, and you asked softly, “You like the wine?”
He looked over at you quickly before picking up his own again and lifting it to his mouth, mumbling against the ceramic, “Do you like it?”
You glanced at him, taking another small mouthful before you said, “It's quite sweet.”
“I thought that.”
“Little bit floral.”
“I thought that too.”
You smiled, setting your mug aside with a clink against the wooden side table, which he copied with a louder thud before shifting closer to you, his hands meeting your skin like a gravitational pull, his touch deliberate, certain, his fingers sliding over your hips and his thumbs pressing into the soft skin of your waist.
He slipped his hands beneath your shirt as he pressed his lips to your neck once more, sliding his hands up to your chest and bunching up the fabric of your top with them.
His hands roamed with more purpose now, his fingertips grazing the warm skin of your stomach, then gliding higher, his palms sliding up your sides, and when he felt the thin band of your bra beneath, he let out a low, amused sound.
“What the fuck is this still on for?” he muttered against your skin, almost to himself.
His fingers fumbled behind you, not out of nervousness, just impatience. You could feel him smiling against your sternum as he worked at the clasp, kissing you there lazily between his futile attempts.
“I mean, honestly…” he murmured, pretending to be irritated, making you laugh softly.
The clasp gave suddenly, and he pulled the straps down your arms through your sleeves, and he tugged your bra away with a quiet triumph, tossing it to the side without looking or caring where it was going. His hands smoothed over your now-bare chest with reverence, adoration.
“There we go,” he whispered, dragging his mouth across one of your breasts, slow and warm and maddening all at once.
You tilted your head back, lips parting, your body arching slightly under the weight of his attention. His mouth was hot and wet wherever it trailed, and when he looked up at you with those big brown eyes from where he was kissing your ribs, you reached down and ran your fingers into his hair, feeling the soft strands against your skin, and you tugged on it lightly.
“Do you want to fuck me?” you asked, your voice barely more than a breath, light, teasing, but there was a thread of real heat that tinged your tone.
He lifted his head at that, looking at you properly while his hands paused just above your hips, his hair tousled from where your hand was still laced into it. “That's what honeymoons are for.”
His mouth continued to move over your chest, the open-mouthed kisses he was leaving almost like a trail of flower petals as he made his way to your neck once more, travelling over the dip of your collarbone and your shoulder. Then, without a word, he gently coaxed you onto your side, and you let him move you, though you rolled off of the warm spot your body had created from where you'd been lying, shifting onto a colder spot of the duvet, and he tucked himself behind you, stealing the warmth. You thought that might've been his plan all along.
He reached down and pushed his boxers off with one fluid but impatient motion, then he pressed himself against you from behind, the weight and heat of him unmistakable. His cock nestled between your thighs like it belonged there, thick and hard, sliding against the soft warmth of your pussy as he aligned himself carefully.
One arm slid beneath you, holding your chest, while the other wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. You could feel his breath in your ear, how much he wanted this, wanted you, but still he moved slowly, deliberately, like he had all the time in the world.
He kissed the back of your shoulder, murmuring something too quiet to catch, and then you felt his tip nudging at your entrance, slow, sweet, and steady, but it made you whimper softly.
He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, filling you with the kind of care that made your heart ache more than your body did, and you let out a long, breathy sigh as his cock stretched you gently, the pressure deep and deliberate, his arm tightening around your waist as he sank deeper into you.
He exhaled, soft and slow, as he buried himself fully, your bodies pressed flush together until there was no space left between your skin. His mouth found your neck again, brushing fleeting but deep kisses over the curve of it like he couldn't bear to not be touching you as much as possible at once.
“God,” he whispered, his voice frayed at the edges as he tried to hold back. “You feel so good, baby...”
He started to move, deep, unhurried strokes as he rocked into you with all the care and desire in the world. His hips rolled against yours, the rhythm patient and unbearably intimate, every thrust a quiet but deliberate reminder of his love for you.
You pressed your head back into the pillow, your eyes fluttering as one of your hands gripped the sheet while the other reached behind to touch him wherever you could, his thigh, his hip, his ass, just needing to feel something of him.
“I love you,” he murmured into your hair, his voice quiet and near trembling, kissed into your scalp like a wax seal on an envelope encasing the dearest love letter.
You turned your head, just enough to meet his lips, and kissed him over your shoulder, slow, open-mouthed and all-consuming, tasting his breath, still tainted with the sweetness of the wine, and his softness, warm and tender as he gave everything to you.
“I love you,” you breathed back against his mouth, and he groaned, like those words undid something tight knotted inside of him.
His pace stayed tender, every motion careful and measured, like he wasn't just inside your body, but inside the moment itself, like he never wanted to leave it. He really didn't. His cock stroked deep and steady against your sensitive walls, nudging places inside of you that made your fingers curl into the sheets, but still, he kept it slow, almost torturously so.
His cock filled you with such gentle persistence, each stroke steady and sure, the kind of fucking that didn't rush towards a climax, or send you hurtling into one, but instead lingered in everything before it.
The friction was warm and constant, the skin of his chest damp against your back and your legs parted just enough for him to keep moving like that, deep, slow, and sweet, his warm tip pressing against that spongy spot inside of you with each lazy thrust.
He kept kissing you anywhere he could, between your shoulder blades, the nape of your neck, the edge of your jaw whenever you turned your face towards him. Every few minutes, he'd murmur a soft, I love you, or a devoted, You feel so good, or a lovestruck, I'm so happy we're married now.
Eventually, you felt it in the way his hips began to slow, the way he paused deep inside of you, like he wanted to stay there, to stay exactly where you were, but he shifted, his hand smoothing down your thigh as he slid out slowly, making you whimper softly at the emptiness.
“Come here,” he murmured sweetly, already guiding you onto your back, his palm warm and steady at your ribs.
You let him move you, your limbs pliant and tingling, and he climbed over you, his eyes dark from his dilated pupils. His cock glistened in the low light from your wetness, flushed and hard as he settled between your thighs again, the hot tip brushing your entrance once more.
He leaned down to kiss you, slow and deep and purposeful this time, his lips parting yours, one of his hands cupping your face while the other braced beside your head on the pillow. Then, he pushed back inside, filling you again in one measured, perfect motion, and he kissed your forehead as he watched your features respond to the fullness once more.
He moved slowly, the rhythm of his hips steady and careful, like he was trying to memorise every inch of you from the inside out, as if he hadn't already. His hips rocked into yours with precision that made your toes curl, dragging his cock deep and then drawing back just enough to do it all over again and again and again, never rushed, never careless.
His mouth wandered from yours to your throat, to your collarbone, then lower still as he kissed your chest the same way he fucked you, soft and warm, his kisses open-mouthed and reverent. He sucked gently at the swell of your tit, his tongue tracing the curve, then circled your nipple with a lazy kind of attention, making you gasp quietly, arching up to him, and you felt him smile against the sensitive skin at your reaction.
“You're perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick and half-muffled by your skin. “So fucking perfect, baby.”
He cupped your other breast in his hand, his thumb stroking over your nipple as he kept moving inside you, and you clenched around him instinctively, your body clinging to the rhythm of his cock, and he groaned low in his throat, his eyes fluttering shut as he pressed deeper, more insistently.
He slid one hand down between you, his fingers finding where you were slick and swollen, fluttering around him, and he circled your clit slowly, barely any pressure at first, then just enough to make your moans a little louder.
“You like that?” he asked softly, kissing the valley between your boobs, his fingers still playing and his hips still moving as you whimpered in response, your breath catching as you nodded.
He kept moving in that same sweet rhythm, his cock dragging in deep and slow, his hips rolling as if time wasn't real there, like the world outside the hotel room had been stripped away, and there was only you. Your body, your warmth, the soft sounds you made beneath him as he took you.
You could feel him trying, really trying, his pace starting to shift just slightly, the muscles in his arms tightening as he held himself up over you, his lips pressed to the centre of your chest like it kept him tethered. His breath hitched more with every thrust now, the edge of something building in him, close and undeniable, but you could tell he was trying to fight it, his whole body tensing against what he knew was coming.
His fingers circled your clit with more precision, more pressure, coaxing you closer and closer, desperately trying to pull your orgasm out of you before his own hit.
“Come on, love,” he murmured against your skin, hus voice strained as he kept kissing your skin between shallow gasps. “Want you to cum for me, yeah? Please, baby…”
You clenched again as you moaned his name softly, your body responding, the pleasure building like a tide rolling in at dusk, and he felt it, felt you tightening and fluttering around his cock, and that was it.
“Fuck,” he gasped, raw and ugly, and his body stilled, his hips pressing as deep as he physically could, and the sudden rush of warmth flooding inside of you as he came, babbling your name as he buried his face in the side of your neck.
He groaned into your skin, low and desperate and almost apologetic, holding himself inside as his cock pulsed, wringing the last dregs of his cum into you, but he didn't stop, nor did he pull out.
Even as he trembled, even as his breath faltered, even as his legs felt like they might give way, he kept moving, soft, shallow thrusts now, just enough to keep the friction going, his fingers still working your clit with slow, determined circles.
“Still got you,” he whispered, slightly out of breath as he kissed your cheek, your jaw, your neck. “I've got you, baby. Just let go. Let me give it to you.”
He kept going, hips stuttering but persistent, fucking himself through the aftershocks of his own release with a kind of desperate devotion. His cock stayed inside you, thick and softening slightly, but still moving, still trying, even as his thighs wobbled with the effort, his muscles taut and shaking, but he didn't let up. He couldn't. Not when he knew you were so close.
“Come on, baby,” he breathed, almost pleading now, his voice wrecked, his breath hot and uneven against your cheek as his fingers worked your clit with more tender urgency. “Almost there, yeah? I can feel it, pretty, give it to me. Cum for me. Please.”
His voice cracked towards the end, and you moaned softly as your body tightened, every nerve pulling taut like a wire about to snap, his words and his touch and the fullness of his cock pushing you right to the edge, and then, you broke.
Your hips jerked, your breath shattering in your throat as your orgasm tore through you, hard and hot as you clenched around him with a force that made him whimper. Your pussy fluttered, gripping him as you came with a soft, gasping cry, your thighs trembling around his as they bracketed them.
He moaned at the sensation, dropping his sweaty forehead to yours, his lips catching yours in a shaky, messy kiss, the heaviness of his breathing making it almost mouth-to-mouth.
“That's it,” he whispered against your mouth, terribly out of breath. “Fuck, that's it.”
You could feel him smile a little against your lips, relieved, proud, and utterly spent, but still holding you, still inside you, his body sagging gently into yours like he had nothing left.
He didn't pull out right away, and instead, he stayed right there, chest to chest, his cock softening inside you slowly, warmth still blooming low in your belly where he'd finished. The room was quiet but not silent, the muffled hum of the tiny fridge in the corner, the occasional car passing by outside the shuttered window, but around the two of you, there was stillness.
His nose nudged yours lazily, his lips brushing your cheek as he breathed in and out, and he murmured, “I didn't mean to cum first. I tried really fucking hard. Honest.”
You smiled, your eyes half-lidded and your lips brushing the curve of his jaw. “You made up for it.”
“Yeah?” he said, his eyebrows twitching up, hopeful and cocky all at once.
“Mmhm,” you hummed, dragging your fingers down the slope of his back while your other hand brushed back his damp fringe. “You're lucky I love you.”
He chuckled before he kissed you again, this time slower, less messy, less urgent, but still full of all of the love he had for you that he always saved to exude in this way. Just lips to lips, soft and lingering, and he finally slid out of you with a quiet sigh, careful and slow, like he didn't want to disrupt anything, like the space between you couldn't stay empty for long, and it didn't.
He lay beside you almost immediately, pulling you into his chest as his arms wrapped around your back as you curled into him, your legs tangled together. He kissed your the top of your hair, your shoulder, the tip of your nose when you tilted your face up.
“Do you think the people in the next room could hear that?” you asked against his collarbone with a smile.
“Hope so,” he mumbled. “Let them know I treat my wife right.”
That made you laugh, and he beamed like it was his favourite sound in the world, and it was.
After a while, once your breathing had evened and your bodies had cooled, he nudged you gently. “Roll over,” he said.
You turned your head, suspicious.. “Why?”
“Just do it.”
You smiled and turned over, burying your face in the pillow, your arms folded beneath your chest, and his touch came a moment later, making you laugh softly as you realised what he was doing. His fingers pressed clumsily at your shoulder blades, too light in some places, too firm in others, but utterly sweet in his intent.
“Massage,” he said proudly as he dug his palms into your spine.
“Jesus,” you muttered into the pillow with a grin he couldn't see as he ‘massaged’ your back like he was kneading a bread dough that was trying to fight back.
He snorted at your mutter, and he paused only to flop forward dramatically, his head landing between your shoulder blades. “Don't make me laugh, love, I'm about to collapse.”
You did laugh then, full and breathless, your shoulders shaking beneath him, and he kissed your spine once, then twice, then he sat up slightly, his palms resting on your lower back.
“Do you want a tiramisu?” he asked softly, smiling cheekily as his eyes drifted over your back like he already knew what your answer would be.
“Bring me all four of them.”
。・:*:・゚༓・*˚⁺‧゚͙+..。*゚+˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚₊✩。˚☽
We are finally happy! <3
“i’m gay” “i’m straight” okay??? well i wanna be yours?? i wanna be yours???? wanna be yours???? wanna be yours?? wanna be yours??
“Of course, you knew about Alex Turner.
Who doesn’t? Is the question.
He is that shy kid at university who only goes to his classes, probably anyone could count with their fingers. He is a busy guy these days with his band taking off. You heard news about him from his classmates from high school who are now at the same university as you, and the stories never disappoint.
Great musician. Introverted lad. Genius at school. Shy with people. Good at bed.
You chuckle at the thought of that. You know what they say—geek in the streets, freak in the sheets.
And you have been listening to his stuff, and he is great. Really amazing. The lyrics are genius, some you can even relate and feel like he wrote those songs about you. His speed when singing is far different from his talking voice which seems to stutter a lot from being nervous while fiddling his bracelet on his arm that are wristbands from gigs he has been having a hard time taking off.
One time you asked for an extra pen from him as he is in one of your classes, and you watch in amusement as he scramble to get his bag and dig for what you are needing from, things falling out from his bag as he clumsily retrieve the papers from the ground, but it only made everything worse as the whole contents of his backpack was now turned upside down, spilling everything from the floor and gaining the attention of everyone in the classroom.
You just bite off your lip to contain yourself from laughing, turning your back on him as if nothing happened, before telling everyone loudly to mind their own business and stop looking at the boy who looks like a baby deer caught in headlights.
Four out of five rumours have been checked off from the list as being proven true. Now, you wonder if those rumours about him being good at bed would be true.
Suck it and see, you guess?”
ᥫ᭡ he tells his friends you mean nothing, but they’ve seen the way he watches you. kisses you slow, like he’s scared you’ll slip through his fingers — and you always do. lights your cigarettes for you, lets you wear his band tees like they’re love letters. plays riffs he won’t admit are about you. you never stay long, but god, you leave him wrecked.
“You’re so pretty and I’m so shy.”
