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NEW YORK AINT THE SAME WITHOUT YOU. [aidan shaw x fem!afab!reader]
mdni. smut. mentions of alcohol, mentions of cheating. intoxication. language. age-gap. oral m receiving. angst! unprotected sex, aidan is kind of an asshole, be warned.
words: 3.3k
new york city drummed on balmy summer nights and the heat only amplified its pulse. people from all walks of life were carving out their own spaces in a city that never slept.
except for you, alone in your apartment. left to your own devices with nothing but the hum of sparse traffic outside and the patter of rain against your window. it poured heavily and bounced from the pavement, adding a rhythmic backdrop to the humid summer night.
the city seemed to mock your solitude with the straight downpour.
on the other side of chelsea, in stark contrast to your state, aidan stepped out of the club into a relentless sheet of rain, his mind a whirlwind. neon lights reflected off the wet pavement, casting a glow around him.
betrayal still stung, and in true aidan shaw fashion, rain or shine, baby, he had once told you. he kept his promises.
the street bloomed white under two jittered flashes of lightning.
“juliet, give me my sin again!” he shouted, his voice cracked and carried a lazy slur. if you hadn’t known this tone so well, you’d almost mistake it for a teenager shittily spewing out shakespeare in hopes of getting some while his little juliet’s parents weren’t home.
you stepped from the bed and to the window to confirm what you already knew. it only took a small squint through the flowy curtains. it would almost be romantic if he wasn’t sopping wet and pathetic with a cocky shit-eating grin plastered across his handsome face as he caught a glimpse of you peering down at him.
you paced down each step before slinging the walk-up apartment’s heavy oak door open.
he leaned forward with both hands against the stairs gate, trying to keep his balance as the water soaked through his clothes and he laughed deeply to himself.
“really cute, but in case you didn’t notice, people live here, romeo.” you hissed and reached down to pull him up the stairs by the collar of his shirt.
aidan trudged up the narrow staircase closely behind you as you stomped. each step creaked under his weight.
“that was stupid, wasn’t even funny,” you mumble and glance at him from over your shoulder as your hands fumble with the keys in the lock.
“i come by it honestly.” he placed his hand over his heart and grinned mockingly.
the air inside your place was thick with the scent of fresh paint and sawdust. remnants of ongoing renovations.
he stumbled slightly, catching himself on the doorframe as he craned his neck to look around you. he surveyed the construction disaster of your so-called ‘living room.’
“well, look at you, little miss la-dee-da.” he pressed past you through the entrance.
“you’re dripping all over my rug,” you muttered from behind him.
“am i?” he sneered back at you.
his gaze flickered to the half-finished bookshelf in the corner.
“i’m quite the handyman, sugar.” he declared as he stripped himself of his jacket and tossed it onto a loveseat sitting awkwardly in the middle of the room.
“could’ve done this for you in a day if you kept me around long enough…” his finger glided over the drywall dust that had collected on a stack of books against the wall before turning to walk closer to you.
“so. what’s new, pussy-cat?”
the tone in his voice seemed to imply he was toying with you. the response was caught in your throat like an air bubble with no escape way.
you studied him quickly, almost obsessively. everything about him was different. they say hair holds memory, and for your own sake, you hoped that had been true. aidan had rid himself of his lengthy cupid curls, and as his broadly toned abdomen pressed against his clinging white dress shirt, you guessed a gym membership was included in the deal.
“what are you doing here, aidan?” you tiredly muttered, trying to hide any expression of shame that dared to ghost across your expression.
“thought i’d see what you were up to, troublemaker.” he grinned deviously, raising his eyebrows as he swayed a bit. he slowly turned on his heels to continue his track around your disastrous living room.
“man, the tunnel! great little place, you been?” he leaned down to pick and prod around at all of the misplaced trinkets on your coffee table. a dull thump of an overplayed club hit rang through his ears, and a few too many straight whiskeys clung to him.
you glanced at him and your mouth fell into a slightly o-shape in a lousy attempt to force the words out of your throat.
the audacity.
you rolled your eyes, “yeah, the tunnel. heard of it.” you mocked back sarcastically.
he hummed in response before letting a short huff of breath out. he turned to face you once again.
“anyway,” he raised his eyebrows and stepped close. too close for comfort. his broad frame towering over you made your heart thump harder and your mouth go dry.
“i think you got some explainin’ to do, little lady.” he expressively pouted his bottom lip.
“you look…different…” you squeaked embarrassingly in response and cleared your throat to divert the attention away from yourself.
“i thought you’d like it.. look like one of those limp-dick wall-street boys you’ve been runnin’ around with lately..” he grinned as his hands wrapped around the small of your waist to manually pull your body closer to his, leaving a suffocatingly insufficient amount of space between the two of you.
his words took you by surprise. on very rare occasions had you heard the man speak with hostility, it just wasn’t his thing, so you wondered why the words left his lips so naturally and smoothly.
“you’re very drunk..” your hands landed on his wide shoulders as you arched your back in a lousy attempt to create any amount of extra space with the man who effortlessly towered over you.
“no, ma, i ain’t.” his deep voice mocked an exaggerated southern drawl as his body leaned closer to dispel the newly added space.
you huffed, exasperated. a strap from your ivory nightdress slipped down your shoulder. you brought a hand up and pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration and took a step away from his grasp.
images of a night months ago flashed through your mind. you remembered the dull headache that pounded between your eyes as sunlight poured through your apartment's cracked window. slamming doors and jumping up to run to the window, hoarsely yelling out for aidan, to tell him it wasn’t what it looked like.
but it was exactly what it looked like.
some lousy bartender with a pierced eyebrow sprawled across your bed right beside you in his underwear, there was no way to explain.
so, you didn’t.
you took your last look at aidan as he quickly hurried away from your apartment for the last time. until now. no email with an explanation or apology. no phone calls, no letters. and, at last, he was here for his closure.
he stepped away and leaned back against his palms on the island bar that separated your tiny living room and kitchen. an unfamiliarly smug smirk painted across his defined face. you caught a glimpse of his ribcage snugly pressed against the damp white fabric of his dress shirt, the newly toned muscle between each column of bone made your breath hitch. rainwater trickled from his brow onto the linoleum below his feet.
“aidan, i’m sorry,” you muttered apologetically. your expression softened as you searched for the words to explain, “i was very drunk and my friends.. they wouldn’t stop pressuring me.” your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you continued.
“always in my ear about me losing my youth dating someone older, and—”
the shame flashed across your face sent a fresh wave of irritation through him. a deep hum from aidan stopped you and you watched as he tilted his head to the side to examine you. his hard expression didn’t change and your blood went cold as you realized that soft spot in his heart for you had long since turned rock-solid.
he adjusted his hips as his thick length twitched impatiently against his left thigh.
“you left me hangin’, baby, high and dry..”
he sucked his left cheek between his teeth and tsked, glancing down at his feet and he leaned back further against his palms, stretching his toned body.
you threw your hands up with a shrug of your shoulders in defeat “i’m sorry, i don’t know what else to say…”
aidan took one hand he was leaning against and completely grasped around your wrist to pull you a step closer.
“come here. what are you standing so far for?” he relaxed, looking down at you as he examined the surprised micro-expressions lighting your face up. the feeling of your wrist in his hand made his already-drunk thoughts spin. his jaw went slack as his body pressed into you with ease.
“you can’t just do this.” you hoarsely stammered, the pressure around your wrist applying as he pulled you closer.
“do what?” the man grinned against you teasingly. he turned his body and boxed you into the counter, bracketing you against the faux marble.
aidan's broad six-foot-five frame completely engulfed you. his hand released your wrist before snaking around your hips to pull you into his torso.
“busting in like you own the place and—” you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip and pressed into him closer, motioning over his body with your eyes
“this.”
you nervously toyed with the neckline of his shirt, slipping your fingers underneath to slide against his collarbone.
aidan’s breath hitched as your fingers traced against him. his eyes darkened, and he leaned in closer. the heat between you was palpable, and every inch of your body was hyper-aware of his proximity.
he ducked his head down and hunched over you, slowly pressing a kiss against your mouth and using his tongue to push through your lips like an intruder. you melted into him. thoughtlessly, like second nature.
and for a sudden, hopeless moment, you missed him. you missed his weight against you. his lips on yours just like this, slacking your jaw to allow his hot tongue to slip against yours as his hungry hands palmed your ass through a thin and nearly iridescent night dress.
you felt his thickness twitch against you, behind the constricting material of his tightening dress pants.
you were drunk on the way he smelled.
it was overtly masculine, everything about him was and always had been. heavy, earthy, and warm, the tinge of whiskey lingered on his lips and the scent of oak on his skin long after he’d left his workshop.
he pulled away to step forward, guide you into the living room, and sit in the heavy oak chair he’d designed with his own hands, sprawled back cockily. it creaked beneath his weight.
go on, baby.
you didn’t know whether it was his husky voice that had commanded you or your subconscious guiding you to pay your karma, but you obliged.
watching him loosen his belt, you lowered yourself to your knees and scooted forward.
“pretty girl,” he muttered to himself and tsked his tongue against his teeth in thought.
“you hurt me, you know that?” he felt better when he wasn’t made of steel with you.
his head tilted to the side to examine your flushed face and you instinctively pulled him out of his boxers. you craned your neck forward to trail a lick up the underside of his cock. his familiarity and warmth made heat coil low in your belly, pooling wet and anxious between your legs. he held you off, just enough so that he could watch you struggle forward trying to take him into your mouth fully.
he twitched against your tongue, huffing out a sharp breath. the uneven hitch of his breath urged you to continue and you take him into your mouth further. your throat constricted wildly, and he hissed through his teeth.
the two of you belonged to each other once again, the salvia pooling in your mouth, running down his length as your mouth and lips did the apologizing that your words couldn’t, belonged to him. his hand at the back of your head which felt like security, raising his hips to fuck up into your mouth. his groans belonged to you, just as they always had.
you whimpered softly as he tugged your hair to pull you from his flushed cock. a line of spit hung off your bottom lip, sticking to your chin. you wiped away tears from your clumped eyelashes with the back of your hand and sunk your teeth into your plump bottom lip eagerly. the need to please him was sudden and violent. his strong hand caught in the soft tangle of your hair.
his face was stricken with an expression you couldn’t quite grasp. with his nostrils flared and jaw clenched, you could recognize anger. but his softened gaze and furrowed eyebrows felt like sincerity, guilt. he couldn’t tell if he wanted to fuck a lousy apology out of you or send you to bed and leave as if nothing had ever happened in his drunken haze.
he used his large hand to wrap around his shaft and drag his slick tip against your open lips before pulling you down onto him once again.
your apology was warm around him, pressing up against the back of your throat.
it hurt in the way it was supposed to hurt — your guilt scorching away inside you.
he forced you down, filling your mouth with his cock, tears clouded your vision. your whimpers were garbled, broken things around his cock.
he’d been the one to teach you how to take it without a fuss, maybe he didn’t hear you over the resounding crashes of thunder and your window rattling on his hinges. couldn’t see the tears welling when you fluttered your eyes open up to him as he tilted his head back against the chair in a guilt-stricken haze of pleasure.
his gaze fell onto you, and his strong hand released the grasp on your hair.
“come here.” the man muttered, motioning you up with his head.
your fingers hooked at the straps of the flowing night-dressed and it fell to pool around your ankles. you stepped out of it, slipped onto his lap to straddle him, and closed your eyes as you sunk onto him with ease. he didn’t give you time to adjust to him before he rocked his hips to fill you completely.
a sharp hiss of an inhale left through your teeth as his tip reached far deeper than you had been used to in your time apart.
he leaned forward and groaned against your warm skin as his hips guided themselves upwards, he closed his eyes. his hands grasp around your waist to steady you and hold you in place as your legs shook in response. his head dipped down and his lips and tongue sloppily grazed your nipple.
“ ‘m sorry. ” your words left your lips like a soft cry as his cock reached deeply inside you, making your head fall backward, torso and breasts arching further against his mouth.
“you’re always doin’ shit you need to be sorry for.” he grunted into your skin and pulled you from his cock with both hands on the sides of your waist. he angled himself back and slowly rocked into you with a moan.
“gotta have the patience of a fuckin’ saint with you.” his jaw clenched as his thrusts went harder, deeper than you could handle.
you whined, an attempt to writhe away from him, but it was no use. you were his, and his strong hands around you made it impossible to lift yourself from him. your fingers dug into his wide shoulders over the translucent material of his damp shirt.
“it’s too much, it’s—” you took a ragged gasp as he pressed deep inside, screwing your eyes tightly shut.
he leaned closer as your body cautiously moved up and down.
any expression of guilt or shame had long been replaced by something else. anger, hunger, and he wanted you to feel it.
“it hurts, baby? does it?” he tilted his head with his slack jaw, a ghost of a smirk tugged the corner of his lip while watching you nod weakly through half-lidded eyes.
his free hand reached between you to draw slow circles against your swollen clit with the pad of his thumb.
“how bad does it hurt?” he sneered at you. his words were like venom. any ounce of sympathy had long since flown out of the window by now. he hoped it hurt.
at least this is the type of pain you could contort and manipulate into some kind of unsettling pleasure. you should consider yourself lucky.
he pressed further and you arched forward with a gasp, your lips trembled as they tried to form words that were no longer there, letting out a desperate sequence of moans, whimpers, and sobs. you answered his thrusts with weak rolls of your hips, pulsing around him. enveloping him. your body seemed to respond with a will of its own.
you thread your fingers into his hair at the nape of his neck. you leaned forward to kiss him, sloppily and still salty from his pre-cum. your surrender was sweet on his tongue and he trapped it in his mouth, it belonged to him, anyway.
his thumb continued its path against your clit, spelling his name against you slowly, long and drawn out so you wouldn’t forget.
you were close, desperately so, and your hand slipped down to brace yourself against his chest. you pant into his mouth, sinking and drawing him further inside. he buried his face into your neck, and rocked his hips against you. he felt your throat constrict, your breasts heaving against his chest as he lazily worked his name against your clit with the pad of his thumb, over and over.
you kept making those pretty sounds, clasping your fingers into his hair and holding yourself steady on his broad chest. his orgasm convulsed through him as he moaned, a ripping noise from his mouth that ricocheted through his brain and against the thin skin of your neck. he rocked unthinkingly into you, riding out the rolling tremors that racked his body.
aidan swallowed unevenly, his breath escaping his swollen lips in shaky bursts. his thumb left your swollen clitoris. you whined sweetly in response, trying to rock yourself against his toned naval for any kind of friction. the constricting tightness as you wordlessly begged for more made his hips jolt in over-sensitivity. the feeling dizzied him, striking into the sides of his skull.
he braced himself and stands with your legs wrapped around his waist.
he carried you through the hallway effortlessly and laid you onto the unmade bed with ease.
when he pulled out, you whined and writhed in discomfort, the feeling of anxious excitement pooled somewhere deep in the pit of your stomach. you wanted him, his hungry mouth against you, coaxing you to an undeserving climax with his tongue. not tonight.
he dropped his pants around his ankles and stepped out. from his thighs, he pulled the elastic waistband of his boxers back around his hips snugly and tugged the uncomfortably damp shirt over his head.
aidan watched as he leaked from between your legs, coating your inner thighs. he reached between to gather a bit of it. he brought his two middle fingers up to press past your lips and onto your tongue, watching intently through bleary eyes as you suck him clean.
with a soft groan, he laid down to pull you onto your side and flush against him. he wrapped his arms around you, tucking your head under his chin. you leaned forward to press a ghost of a kiss against his neck.
every breath you took sent the thud of your heartbeat thumping through your head.
you could feel the man radiating heat, his eyes fluttered closed tiredly. you listened intently to the rapid thrum of his heart against his chest.
#this is going to flop too i don’t know why i keep doing this to myself#everything i write for has a fandom that died YEARS ago but idgaf#sorry. there’s actually NO fic for him ANYWHERE i literally think this might be the first in existence#like im sorry but#that man needs to be fucked#he’s so FINE HES SO SEXY#i legit do not care about your opinions on him bring that elsewhere please#this is an aidan shaw lover safe space#this is also a safe space for mr big haters. fuck you big#all my homies hate mr big#aidan shaw#aidan shaw x reader#aidan shaw fanfic#satc#sex and the city#satcedit#carrie bradshaw#sex and the city fic#x reader
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You know even if L and Light were both extremely heterosexual men, I still don't get how either one of them wouldn't find it alarmingly sexy that the other one was secretly trying THAT hard to constantly impress them and read their mind and personally entertain them and trip them specifically and ONLY them up
#like im sorry but#cant get much more romantic than that?#would somebody try that hard simply because they wanted to be your bro or because they did not care for you in any personal way at all?#no#idk why im making so many posts these days btw#i just keep getting hit with lawlight thoughts about the lawlight thots#like the steps of planning light went through to make the entire yotsuba arc happen??#this is why he is the gone girl / amazing amy of the pair#it's like ok that's definitely scary and very insane of you but also maybe kinda hot hahahaha#and this is exactly what Alessandro Juliani meant when he said he thinks they have a real affinity for each other im sure#like he's probably a straight dude but even he was like dang they r in love#light yagami#l lawliet#lawlight#p
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I still wanna know how the actual hell Baby Will survived a week in the upside down when Eddie, Nancy, Steve, and Robin struggled for like the few hours they were there-
I have the official comic abt his time there but I’m not entirely sure if that can still be considered canon anymore-‘
IDK IM EXCITED TO SEE IT THO BECAUSE ISTG S5 STARTS WITH A FLASHBACK SCENE OF WILL
#stranger things#will byers#byler#<— target audience#LIKE IM SORRY BUT#HE WAS THERE FOR A WEEK WITHOUT FOOD#OR WATER#AND IK HE WAS LIKE TECHNICALLY DESD WHEN HOP AND JOYCE FOUND HIM#BUT STILL
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Sorry for another Gorillaz post but man. I'm still so salty over Cracker Island. Like,, they put the BEST SONGS off the album and it drives me insane. Captain Chicken?? Crocadillaz??? CONTROLLAH???? You chose to leave THOSE OFF??? They are some of the best songs in Cracker Island it drives me crazy
#like im sorry but#i dont like tormenta or silent running#tired influncer is on thin ice too#they just kinda... they feel so samey and bland#i still think the best somg on the album is skinny ape#fucking love that one#but godddd controllah especially being left off pisses me off so bad#monnie rambles
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Seeing everyone freak out about something happening in qsmp is so funny to me. Like yes mutuals i see you breaking down but do you want to hear about roller derby names?
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i am a lover not a hater but the fact that timeless made it onto speak now tv and battle didn't haunts me
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am i the only one who thinks this line is sort of.....well.
#like im sorry but#fires the blood and the mind is such a phrase#maybe this is just my personal there are cathedrals everywhere for those with eyes to see it moment but... ??
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it’s so hard living with people who don’t understand my R.B.F 😭😭😭
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"have some empathy! what if it were you or your loved one paying a quarter of a million dollars to get inside of the Underwater Death Trap 5000? it could happen to anyone"
#LIKE IM SORRY BUT#I do feel bad for the kid I hope his death was painless and quick and he wasn't scared etc but. everyone else? nah lmfao
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stop lying, we both know that andrew garfields' spiderman is the type to laugh at 69 and yo mama jokes
#like im sorry but#this man#the second this man finds out these jokes#he will be cackling by himself#⌇ ˗ˏˋ azzie thoughts 🗯#💞 azzie rambles — ‘she can’t stop talking’#andrew! peter parker#tasm#tasm! peter parker#andrew garfield#peter parker#peter parker thoughts
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autism life hack: someone else in the household has had the audacity to use YOUR glass, but you dont wanna be a complete dickhole in reclaiming it? gather and wash ALL the dirty dishes so no one will notice the depths of your Problems
#i was like#oh me thirsty#and then looked over and saw MY glass#sitting on the table#used for water??? for someone else?????#like im sorry but#thats my glass.#made the fools mistake of putting it through the dishwasher and then putting it in the cupboard#instead of hand washing it and returning it to my spot#was like#oh itll be fine#everyone knows this is MY glass#no one'll use it#forgetting my housemate doesn't perpetually have these things on her mind lmao#resisted the urge to go D: my glass#the ever present urge to complain like a lil fuckin bitch two year old#and then instead started gathering EVERYTHING up like#Oh its No Trouble#heh heh#now ive got my iced coffee#in MY glass
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it’s extremely bold that people are assuming those in the tin can submersible are still alive.
#like im sorry but#i think we all know they aren't#and i just hope it was instantaneous#(if i end up being wrong i'm certainly willing to accept it)#(but the fact of the matter is that even if they weren't crushed in a matter of seconds)#(the only other option is asphyxiating to death for these past few days)#(their oxygen is likely depleted if not entirely used atp)
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Seeing people be like "thatch should have just eaten the fruit" teach still would have murdered him tho.
#like im sorry but#his entire life hes been looking for that fruit#he wont let someone else have it#if thatch had eaten it#he would have just killed him and restarted the search#thatch should have just GIVEN it to him#if he wanted to live
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i nutted. i nutted fr.
#like im sorry but#jeremyyyyy let me [redacted][bleeped][censored]#im leo dicaprio in wall street looking at margo robbies cooch#just biting my knuckles to the bone rn#noah.txt
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"he would not fucking say that" but it's "they would not be having carefully negotiated bdsm manual sex"
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i think we should remind musicians they can absolutely make up little stories for their songs btw. it doesn’t have to be about them at all. you can invent a guy and put him in situations to music. time honoured tradition in fact.
#sorry im bored of the same tags on this lmao#sometimes i think the confessional style loses impact because everything has to be excavated from the depths of the soul#and somehow. confessional writing seems to be going with the most disaffected bland sound possible. odd.#i love deeply personal songs! i love when songs sound like they mean something to the artist!#something something wider issue of mining trauma and being performatively vulnerable for quote unquote content#idk i don’t have the actual knowledge to write about this well there’s just something not landing for me recently#mine
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