#Alex turner x fem!reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

junedenim · 8 hours ago

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lover boy

he pays special attention

warnings: smut, angst, eating...you know, (slightly feet-loving), wet

word count: 4.3k

Weddings are lovely. This one in particular has good cake and nice decorations. The bridesmaid dresses aren’t hideous though you don’t have to wear one, which you’re thankful for. Green has never really suited you.

A suit does suit Alex. His tie has come loose from tugging on it one too many times. He’s over in the corner with his friends and every once in a while you’ll feel a pull to look over at him and you find his eyes on you. He always has a small smile on his lips that grows two sizes bigger when he looks over at you. It’s a nice feeling to have someone beam at the sight of you.

You swirl the glass of champagne and count how many you’ve had. This is your third, you think. You’re chatting with someone at your table that you don’t know the name of. She and her husband are nice but the conversation isn’t exactly invigorating, but it passes the time.

“I Gotta Feeling” plays from the shitty DJ speakers and you feel like you’re at your 21st birthday celebration two sips away from barfing in a bathroom stall. You’re kind of mad at Alex for leaving you alone at the table. He has a habit of that. You’ve previously excused it as him catching up with his friends, now it starts to feel like forgetfulness, uncaring toward you, and your loneliness at this wedding. His smile reassures you but he’s still across the room all the same.

Maybe it’s your fault too. You could go over there and join the conversation but then you’d feel like some clingy girlfriend. Maybe it’s your fault for caring too much. Going over there might be the polite thing to do instead of moping at the table. But it would’ve been polite for him to include you in the first place.

You go to the bathroom, not to vomit, just to pee. You leave your champagne and your purse at the table and wish you could leave your heels there too as they’re becoming a pain. You wash your hands and look in the mirror for too long. Exhaustion pours over you but you’re still going to be here for at least another hour.

As you walk out, his hand grabs your arm. You have his hand memorized. Every crease, every callus, every bone. Early on, probably in the first month of sleeping together, you’d trace his hand because you loved the way it felt on you and how one touch could make you feel so much. It would knock you off your feet, leave you out of breath, and have you begging for more. It was transformative and then it became normal. It was impossible not to feel that way, even when his hand was just holding yours.

“You disappeared on me,” Alex says with an attacking smirk and a bruising touch. He can be so intimidating, yet so calm.

You shrugged and wished you brought your purse so you could have something to do with your hands. “You left me first.”

He comes closer only a breeze could pass through the two of you. He doesn’t bend his head, he likes to have the hot air float between the two of you. He told you once how turned on he gets when you have to reach up to kiss him because he’s never been “the tall one” in the relationship. You’re not that much shorter than him, a fact you remind him of. He says he knows but his dick still gets hard all the same.

“Do you want me to babysit you?” He’s toying with drunk flirtation. It’s impossible not to feel something from it, despite how much it bugs you that he can just tilt his head and perk his lips like that and you’re a puddle.

“I want you to pay attention to me.” You think you sound like a whining child but you’re determined to stay strong in your firmness and fight off his taunting teases and that leering bravado.

His eyebrow raises and you’re not sure if he could come any closer without touching chest-to-chest with you. “Oh,” he sounds, a chuckle tipping at the end of his sound. He bends his head down, hiding his laughter from you like he’s breaking character. “I’ll pay close attention to you.”

His hand rubs down your arm. He slows at the crook, paying close attention to the inner elbow like it’s an aphrodisiac. You could tilt your head back and just enjoy him or you could pout some more. “I’m not doing that kind of thing here. In fact, I’m not doing it at all.”

It ticks you off that he laughs again. It’s starting to feel like he’s mocking you as if there’s a live studio audience and the laugh track is playing and everyone is making fun of you. “You becoming a nun?”

You cross your arms. “Maybe you should think about giving some of your vices up.”

Alex rolls his eyes and steps back, allowing you to come up from the water and gasp for air. “I’m working on it.” He means smoking. Not that you’ve been that hard on him about it, maybe more so lately, but he said he would try giving it up, but he still goes out for “walks” every day. You haven’t cared much in the past but the smoking has seemed to flare up into a bigger issue of him not committing to things you’d like him to do like paying closer attention to you and your needs—the non-sexual kind.

You hum and look over at the reception hall through the archway. People talking, drinking, dancin, some at the same time.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

You look back at him, now with his sad little boy look. His hands are in his pockets, his eyes looking down at the floor, an ever-present frown on his face. You roll your eyes at this act. “For what?”

Alex rubs his head, messing with his hair and pulling his face in various directions. “Want me to fuck you in the bathroom?” Deflection. Definitely deflection.

“Al!” You smack his arm and he’s laughing at you but you’re laughing at him too. Fuck him for knowing the right thing to say to get out of anything. You want to slap him silly and kiss him, have him fuck you into the bathroom mirror.

He shields his face. “Stop it. Stop it,” he begs with a chuckle. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

You let your hand fall at your side. “You’re a loser.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, placing his hands back in his pockets, “I know.”

You don’t want to fuck him and you don’t think he wants to fuck you either. You’d like to swallow each other up. You like taking him in pieces—his hands, his hair, his face—rather than just him. But now you’d like to take him whole. You’d like to have him take you whole and not just your body but your soul.

You extend your hand. “Could you dance with me?”

He sighs at the thought. He hates this part. His two left feet and the idea of people staring at him dancing when he hasn’t had enough alcohol or enough lights in his face to block them out. “Slowly,” he says, taking your hand. He likes your hands too, likes the daintiness and how naturally soft they are, completely opposing the way he touches everything. “Protect me.”

He says it as a joke like he does most personal things. He wraps them up in mystery and hidden meanings because he’s too vulnerable to speak to anyone, especially in public, which freaks him out. He’d rather be naked in public than feel like a stranger knows him. That’s why he won’t do therapy. But he’s never been the knight for you. He told you that you don’t need him but he thinks he’d fold in on himself without you. You stand guard against the dragon because he can’t handle the thought of being emotionally exposed to outsiders.

You lied naked with one another far before you knew him. It was so much easier than telling the truth, but then one day you cracked him up and nothing could be held back after that. What therapist would understand him better than you? You get him more than he gets himself. Things only make sense to him in writing or when he tells it to you. Both respond to him in a way nothing else has been able to understand. There’s no point in finding someone—anything—else.

“Okay,” you agree.

He squeezes your hand and trails behind you. He knows everyone here and you don’t know a single soul. It freaks you both out in your own way but that understanding that the other one is just as uncomfortable somehow makes this place the most comfortable place ever.

His shoes tap yours a few times like his nerves knocking on your heart’s walls. He whispers into your ear, “I don’t like this.”

You laugh. “I know.”

He kisses your neck, softly, finding a haven in there. “I know you do.” That’s your relationship in four words. The world swells around you two, encasing you in stone, carved into time, and you never liked dancing but it’s the intimacy of his hold on you as your feet move back and forth in a swaying fashion but not like a waltz more like the cool breeze on a humid day. It’s like floating away with your feet on the wooden floors. His loafer clicks your heel and you’re glad you didn’t take them off. It’s a secret language you’ve learned in the effort to decode, to know him fully, to know yourself more because he knows you. It helps you make sense of all this mess, all of life, just with a misstep he’ll be embarrassed by and mutter a sorry for, you feel like you’ve discovered secrets of the universe in it.

Alex takes you over to his friends after. It’s almost as boring as sitting with what’s-her-face and her husband, except Al’s arm is around you and yours around him and he’ll squeeze your side every once in a while to let you know that he knows you’re still there.

At the hotel, you take your shoes off on the end of the bed while he throws his tie somewhere near your suitcases. It’s an art to be so seductive when making a mess. You’d scold him for it in the daylight but in this nighttime light, it has you shuddering. You scatter your heels at the foot of the bed to seem as sexually temptating as him.

He eyes you from the tips of your toes up to the last hair on your head. “You make me want to get on my knees.”

“And do what?” You question in fake obliviousness.

He tilts his head and his eyes move back down, stopping at the curve of everything, your boobs, your torso, the crook of your elbow, the bend in your knee, the way your foot points, your toes curling. They tick back up to meet your eyes and he looks at them in parts like it’s a medical diagram and he’s examing the iris, the cornea, the pupil, the lens, the retina, all the way back to the optic nerve.

“I don’t like when you play dumb.” He bites on his cheeks like he’s starving for nourishment. “It makes me feel like you’re talking down to me. Like the teacher just called on me or something.”

You curl your feet under you to hide part of yourself from him. “Did you want to fuck your teacher?”

He shrugs and turns his back to you. He steps on the heel of his shoes, taking them off and lining them up against the wall so neatly it’s more distressing than him tossing his tie. “Mrs. Sterling was hot. Then again, I was going through puberty.”

“What’s your excuse now?” You watch him hang his jacket up in the hotel’s closet.

Alex laughs through his teeth, air fighting its way out of his lips. “Maybe I’m still going through it. At least my penis is.”

You stand up and walk over to him. He’s running his fingers through his hair in the mirror like he isn’t about to go to bed. Almost like you aren’t going to fuck and mess it all up. You slide your head onto his shoulder and nudge your arms around him. He grabs your hands like he’s slipping them into his trouser pockets. You talk to each other through your breathing. He sighs and you take in the air he’s just let out.

“You smell nice,” you say. You give a peck to his neck before sliding out of his grasp, moving around to the front of him.

He grabs your waist now, just resting them there as if they are shelves. “Hmm. This is what happens when I don’t smoke for a day.”

You’re smiling but you don’t let him see it, ducking your head down and turning your back to him. “Unzip me,” you request. You can see him through the mirror. A smile gently emerges and his hands graze up to the top of your back. He rubs your shoulder blades with the faint touch of his knuckles. You lift your hair up out of the way. Alex smoothly lowers the zipper. His touch is non-sexual, only a caring way of easing your aches and pains but his face plays with temptation and an eagerness that he thinks is unseen.

You remove the straps and tug the dress down to the floor before hanging it up beside his suit jacket, mixing him with you. Your feet carry you away from him, leaving him stranded by the mirror. You pull your bra off and one of your old shirts on. You take off your underwear and wear one of his boxers.

He takes off his shirt and hangs it up. He hides himself in the bathroom, brushing his teeth. You lie down on the bed and wait for him. You don’t get under the covers. You don’t want to hide from him. You want to be exposed, physically all of you left for the taking.

Alex shuts off the sink water and taps his feet on the tiled floors. The bathroom light flickers off. He steps out, catching you on the bed with a smirk. He walks over to his suitcase. “I think this is the first wedding I didn’t get drunk at,” he says, shimmying out of his remaining clothes.

“Good. I want you to be upright.”

He unapologetically snorts at that. He’s naked, bending down, his ass staring at you. Part of you wants to go over there and just start eating him. You make a noise to yourself to do that at some other time but for now, you lie further back, sending a message to him.

His boxers are blue with white polka dots. His hair is messed up again despite the time he spent in the mirror. His chest is bare with a slight roundness to it that makes him feel cozy, instead of stiff. He stands at the foot of the bed and takes one of your feet in his hands. His thumb makes love to the arch, easing the painful build-up from the evening.

He kisses your ankle, the bulge that catches his eye. He licks his tongue over it as his mouth leaves your skin. You moan at the feeling of everything. The slight wetness on your joint and the relief of your muscles coming undone at the same time. “Do you want to have sex?” He asks.

It’s romantic for something that is so clinical sounding. His cheeks are red like an embarrassed schoolboy’s. “Do you?” You nervously return the question.

“Yeah,” he quickly answers. Then, he shrugs. “Maybe.”

You giggle. “Maybe?”

He drops your foot and picks up the other one. He repeats his act, leaving this one wetter than the left. “If you want to go all the way. I’m fine with just taking care of you.” That translates to “I’d like to eat you out now please.”

You lift your left foot and poke your toes into his cock. “What about you?”

Alex kisses your big toe. “What about me?” He chuckles as if it’s an absurd thing for a man to want to come all over the place: pussy, boobs, mouth, stomach, feet, the crook of the elbow.

You sit up on your elbows and nudge your foot against his dick some more. “I don’t want him to feel lonely.”

He places your right foot down with graceful care. He kneels on the carpeted floor. He kisses the arch of your left foot as if he’s saying goodbye to it. “I’m not lonely. I can hear it calling my name.”

Already knowing what he means, you ask him, “It?”

His hand slides up your legs and fiddles with the edge of his boxers hiding it from him. “Your cunt. Wet cunt, right?”

You swat his hand away. “Shut up.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh.” And with a chuckle, he says, “You’re soaking wet, aren’t you?”

You want it so badly yet you’re so embarrassed by it. This want inside you is so intense that no one should know about it, not even you. But he can feel it in the air alone just like you can feel how badly he wants it. Unapologetically wants it. This is where he lays himself bare, never hiding how desperate he is for you and the mess between your thighs. In fact, that’s probably all he ever thinks about. Your core and how to get back to it—to this, edging up into the pocket of you.

“I like how shy you get,” he teases. “You’re so bossy until I touch you then you’re just a mess I have to clean up.”

“Clean up?” You question.

He nods. “Yeah. I need a mop or something.”

It’s impossible not to laugh even if you feel so fucking sheepish over it. Like you want to cover your hands over yourself and hide everything, every desirable part (to him, that means pretty much all of you). “You hate me.”

Alex shakes his head and curls his fingers under the elastic band. “I’d like to fuck every inch of you.”

You turn your head, unable to look at him without turning completely red. “You’re so provocative.”

“Pft,” he sounds. “Barely. You’d die if you heard what goes through my mind.”

You shut your eyes as he begins to pull the boxers off of you. “Keep it to yourself. All of it.”

“No way.” You hear the boxers land and his hand pushes up your shirt. “I like it when you’re all red. It’s the only time I have one up on you.”

You feel that hot air between you two. You open your eyes to him completely over you. A second later his lips touch your lips. It’s always his opening, a greeting for the night to come. He lifts himself to look you in the eye. “Mouth or fingers?”

You push him down, away from you. “Stop it.”

He surrenders. Almost. “Okay. Okay.” He kisses your hip bone and from there on out you’re a goner. You lose the ability to articulate words, not even able to think.

Both his hands grab either side of your waist. He eases his head down to the mount of you, giving it a soft peck. It’s like a slow song, an instrumental one like those scores to all those movies he watches that you don’t understand. You get lost in it like a dance, your body internally swaying.

His mouth touches the lips then he dives into the rest. He licks and kisses the clit. He swirls his tongue down your cunt until he finds the opening, pushing inside. Your hands mess his hair up more because that’s about the only thing you can do. You find him infuriating how beautifully he does this. He’s a painter with his lovemaking. If one could document such a thing he’d be Da Vinci or maybe Kilmt, that would be more aligned.

You wish he’d give as much attention to you as he does to your vagina. Not that you mind this bit either with his nose rubbing against your clit and his tongue running through you like your ice cream on a hot, melting day.

He lifts his head, which shouldn’t be allowed. You whine and push against him to move his head back down. “Should take up permanent residency here,” he says before his fingers get involved in the mix. He re-attaches his mouth to your clit and reintroduces his fingers to the inside of you. They haven’t been separated for long, maybe three days at most. It’s hard to remember dates now. He’s moving just right.

“Fuck, please.” Maybe you’re answering his comment or just exclaiming with pleasure. It’s hard to keep track. He goes to the knuckle and sucks on you like it’s his life resource. Like he’s a baby and milk might come out of it. That’s a funny comment, you note to say that to him after you come if you can remember that.

“I’ll build a mansion down here,” he says against you, vibration running through. “With a pool to keep all this wetness in.” You’d roll your eyes at him if they weren’t rolling into the back of your head.

He moves deep but not quickly. His nose rubs against your pubic bone like his shoe knocking into your heel. He moves back but never away. It’s too much and too little all at once. You might have ripped a hair or two out but he doesn’t mind, he likes that type of thing. He might be bald at the end of this.

He curls his fingers inside you and you might get a noise complaint with how loudly you moan. You feel Alex smile into your pussy. He shushes into your clit, which only makes you moan more, placing your right on the edge. He can feel it in the way your thighs shake, your muscles unable to take this feeling. Your brain is unsure of what to do like he’s turning the light switch on and off rapidly.

“Come on my mouth,” Alex says as he removes his fingers. His mouth is full-on, slurping like your soup and plunging his tongue into you like you’re the bottom of a jar he’s cleaning out. His hands push your legs apart more so he can take it all with no barriers in the way. No hiding.

You move against him, unable to control yourself. He goes down onto you deeper and your ears are ringing from how hot they are. The dam breaks loose and you give him what he wants and what you need. It’s all his, just like that.

He doesn’t stop, licking it all up like you’re the center of the Tootsie Pop. You thrust up into him. Unable to take anymore you tug at his hair to pull him off. His mouth is covered in your wetness. He wipes it off on his arm. He looks tired but doesn’t feel it, unlike you feeling like you just climbed and descended Everest.

You push the shirt back to its proper position. You roll onto your stomach and rest your head completely on the pillow, absorbing the softness and how cool it feels against your hot cheeks. “Gimme the boxers back.”

“What if I want easy access?” You hear him moving but your eyes are closed.

“Too bad.” He bends your legs and helps put the boxers back over you, tucking your shared secret away under the cloth.

You hear the sheets rustle and the bed dip beside you. He tugs on the blanket under you. “Pick your feet up.” You follow orders before he covers you both with the blanket, even though it feels too hot right now on your sweating skin. “Don’t fall asleep yet. Open your eyes.”

You manage to flutter them open. Half-closed you say, “How’s this?”

The browns of his peek through along with his smile. “Good enough.”

“What time is check out?” Your eyes shut and his arm lands on your back, cooling you down just enough to not burst into flames.

He yawns. “Noon, I think.”

You hum relief at being able to sleep in. “Want to wake up early for a blow job?”

He’s silent for a moment, thinking it over. “Nah.” The buzz of silence rings the air. You sink further into the bed. Sleep closes in on you. “Want me to wake you up with head?”

You laugh and open your eyes to see his toothy smile. You bite your lip, scared to admit it, but you reveal it to him. “Maybe.” You turn your head away from him and close your eyes.

He kisses the back of your head. “Okay.” Not forcing anything. There’s no attempt to crack you open and tell you to expose yourself to him. There’s no insistence on allowing him to see every side of you. He likes that you keep these parts of yourself hidden. That you got embarrassed when his friends briefly talked about sex like it was in front of your parents or something. Like when you had to give a presentation on STDs in sex ed. That’s one of his favourite stories of you.

It’s private only for you to see fully and he’s fine with just seeing it in parts because those parts usually involve his tongue, cock, or fingers and you moaning. Or that redness that enters your cheeks where you get all flustered and bury your head into his neck. It’s the only time he gets to be the protector. You give yourself over to him. You trust him. That’s all a man could ever want. That and maybe a cigarette.

a/n: when i started this i hated it but now i think it's one of the best things i've written, at least the hotel room part. i think i've used the tootsie pop line before, not sure. also listened to "amore mio aiutami" on repeat so that might have helped.

#alex turner #alex turner fic #alex turner x oc #alex turner x fem!reader #alex turner x reader #alex turner x y/n #alex turner x you #alex turner smut #junedenim

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doctor-dusk · 4 months ago

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𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐰𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨… 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 | 𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐱 𝐭.

what would a musician be without his inspiring muse?

warnings: soft dom!alex, smut, oral (both receiving), bit of anal playing, spitting, unprotected sex (piv). i think that's all, folks.

word count: 4.1k

i wrote most of this last year on a crowded bus on my way back from college, an old lady gave me a dirty look, but it's worth it. probably the dirtiest smut i've ever written so far because i was bored with my job today. hope you enjoy it :3

you had just gotten out of the shower. the skin of your shoulders and chest was still wet and the scent of grapefruit soap still perfumed the bathroom when you left the room amid a thin curtain of steam from the warm water. alex found it funny that you loved warm showers, even though it was almost forty degrees outside. you were wrapped in a dark gray cotton bathrobe, your hair was wrapped in a towel of the same color and you were drying your face with a white face towel.

you noticed that alex was in exactly the same position since the last glimpse you had of him before entering the bathroom. he was sitting in a position that was not very comfortable visually speaking, wearing only moss green cargo shorts. his head was resting on his right hand, which held a pencil with a worn tip between his fingers, while his left hand was busy with a half-smoked cigarette, which released a thin curtain of smoke that escaped through the open window in front of him, his guitar resting on his lap, untouchable.

he had been staring at the page of his notebook for almost twenty minutes. there were a few scribbles on the corners, loose words, but nothing that formed a sentence, much less something that made sense to him.

you tilted your head to see his face, seeing that his eyes were closed now, his hair, which was usually combed back, falling over his forehead, with some of the ends of the strands tickling his lowered eyelids. you gave a weak smile, hanging the face towel on the window and standing behind him, taking advantage of the exposed left side of his neck to give him a little kiss.

‘’what's up, huh?’’ you asked, giving him another little kiss and feeling his skin shiver with the contact of your lips.

‘’it’s all crap.’’ he grumbled, dropping the pencil on the table and straightening his posture, feeling you raise your hands to massage his shoulders. ‘’you know when you really want to write something, you have the idea in your head, but you just…’’ he said, his tone frustrated as he held the guitar. you knew alex well enough to know that he already felt this way before you even asked. you knew his frown, his sullen voice, his strong drag on his cigarette as if he were breathing the air with anger, and maybe he was.

‘’i know.” you answered in an understanding tone, letting your fingers massage the tense and stiff muscles in his shoulders. “but you’ll make it, you always do. you have a mini genius inside you who can think of the most incredible lyrics in the world in the blink of an eye.” you continued encouraging him, lightly tapping his forehead, watching him shake his head subtly.

“well, guess what: this genius is probably on vacation and i didn’t know about it.” turner replied. for a second, you liked to think that alex really did have a miniature of himself in his head, and that at the moment he was just wearing a pair of swim trunks while sunbathing on some paradisiacal beach on the italian coast. “or he must have died, i don’t know.” he finished with another mumble, leaving the guitar leaning against the wall next to it, standing upright and without any risk of falling.

‘’oh, you're so dramatic, turner.’’ you laughed, dragging his last name because of your accent. ‘’you just need some time. maybe relax. you demand too much of yourself.’’

“you know i've always been like this.” he replied, taking one last drag of his cigarette before putting it out by rubbing the butt on the wooden window frame. you've lost count of how many marks there were on the window frame from rubbing the butts of his cigarettes, but you never complained to him.

alex picked up the pencil again, pressing the end of the eraser to his cheek, glancing at the moment you walked around the chair, making a little space to sit on his lap. he felt the scent of the soap a little more intensely on your body, especially when you wrapped both arms around his neck.

alex liked it when you did that without warning, and you liked it even more. you liked the way he wrapped his long arms around you, letting his big hand wander around your waist, following the path further south and leaving it positioned on the warm skin of your left thigh, gently patting it in a caressing manner.

even though he was stuck in his little musical world, he didn't stop giving you the attention you deserved, even if it was just a little. but you knew he wouldn't be able to do anything now, not being so tense.

you had an idea, laying your head on top of his head, since the position you were in favor of the fact that you were sitting a little higher on his lap. you smelled the faint scent of shampoo in his hair, sliding your nose over his scalp, going down a little to kiss his temple, and then his cheek, and then his jaw. you kissed him as far as your mouth could reach, feeling his skin in contact with your lips and feeling the muscle in his cheek contract as he gave a small smile.

‘’what do you think you're doing, huh?’’ he asked, tilting his head a little to the left so he could look at you, but you were more focused on continuing to trail your kisses down his body, each kiss going down proportionally to the point that you had to get off his lap to get between his legs. ‘’you're distracting me, y’know?’’ he pretended to grumble in protest, but you knew him well enough to know that he was far from angry or bored by the fact that you were doing this.

“that's the intention.” you answered with a slightly muffled voice because you were kissing his belly now, letting your fingers slide over the skin of his abdomen in a slowly torturous way to reach the button of his shorts. not even if alex wanted to, he would be able to hide the shiver he felt with this simple act.

“you're crazy.” he laughed, now lightly nibbling the eraser on the tip of the pencil, his eyes not leaving your figure kneeling in front of him for even a second. it was almost majestic for him to see you like that, at an angle he loved, by the way.

“for you? of course.” he heard you retort in the same tone, feeling you unbutton his shorts and lower the zipper with one hand, while the other was resting on his knee. “but you like it.”

“i didn’t say i didn’t like it.” he said, dropping the pencil on the desk at the exact moment your hand reached the hem of his underwear, letting your fingers curl around the elastic to threaten to pull it down.

but you did it so slowly that it actually hurt him. by now, he was already throbbing just at the thought of feeling your hand wrap around him, or feeling your tongue play with the tip, or simply feeling every inch of him burying himself inside you. it awakened unbearable agony in him.

“you're such a twat.” he said through gritted teeth, squeezing the edge of the desk with his fingers. you raised an eyebrow as you feigned offense, threatening to stop. ‘’no, no, love, i didn't mean that, it's just…’’ he said in a frustrated tone with himself, watching you laugh and lower the piece again enough for his cock to practically jump out.

you saw how impossibly hard he was, with some veins marked all over his length, from the base to the beginning of the tip, which by the way was already merely lubricated with precum. it seemed to be calling your name, totally ready to let you wrap your hand around it and swallow it to the last inch, whether with your mouth or with your cunt.

you didn't waste time, you were as eager as he was. your tongue slid deliciously over the tip, tasting him and watching him suck in air forcefully between his teeth. it was as addictive and tasty as the sight you had of him, feeling his hand grab the back of your head, guiding your swollen lips to start swallowing him slowly.

as much as he had that urgency to see you choke on his cock, he could be content with feeling your warm mouth envelop the tip, your delicate hand stayed around the base, pumping slowly and gently and holding it firmly to make him erect as he entered more on your mouth.

turner was already starting to feel the slight spasms with the vibration of your throat on his cock when you let out a muffled moan. he’s not the kind of guy who is a fan of advance warnings, because when you least expected it, you felt him bucking his hips, making you feel him deep in your throat, which made you cough. he moaned shamelessly when you pulled your head away to get some air, playing with his tip with your tongue, giving it kittenish licks from every possible angle before putting him back in my mouth, swallowing him again without him having to move again.

“oh, so fucking good…” he groaned, letting his head fall back, delighting in the feeling of your warm mouth wrapping around his cock, taking him deeper, feeling your throat closing around the tip. he felt his senses overwhelmed, every fiber of his body contracting as your tongue swirled around his pulsing length.

he looked down at you at some point, your eyes locked on his, he couldn't even try to explain how crazy he went when you looked at him like this, hypnotizing him with your warm mouth and enigmatic eyes, wide like cherry pies.

“such a good girl for me. you're going to make me want to put composition aside to fuck you.” he growled, his fist closing around the towel wrapped on your head.

“you say that like it's a bad thing.’’ you pouted, kissing his tip several times and he chuckled, moving his hand to run his thumb on your cheek, looking tenderly at you.

“baby, you know i love fucking you. really.” he purred, holding his cock and gesturing for you to open your mouth, tapping his shaft on your tongue, the slapping sound adding to the pleasure of both. ‘’love feeling your mouth, your tongue, your pussy clenching around my cock…’’ he continued, his words sending slight jolts of lust through your body. he always knew what to say to make you even wetter.

‘’mhm, so we should fuck, y'know?’’ you said, swirling your tongue around his tip, your eyes pleading for him. you said that like you hadn't already fucked that morning.

‘’we should.’’ he agreed with you, pulling the towel from your head, massaging your scalp, the damp strands of your hair tangled in his fingers. ‘’stand up and turn around.’’ he said in a gentle order, patting your neck lightly.

you giggled, obeying him without a second thought, standing up and turning on your heels, the open window overlooking the deserted street was all you had. could there be people passing by or neighbors who might appear at their apartment windows at any moment? possibly.

but you didn't care much about that as you felt alex untying the knot of your robe while standing behind you, you could feel his hard cock rubbing against your thigh as he made you bend over the desk, your bare tits pressing on top of his notebook. the rough paper pages combined with alex's hands holding the hem of your robe makes your nipples harden, the cotton fabric reached halfway down your back, your lower body exposed to him like a full meal.

“you smell so good.” he hummed, dragging his nose over the skin of your left buttock as if he were snorting coke, your soft skin and your refreshing post-shower scent made him want to melt all over you. he was completely crazy about you.

“it's because i took a shower.” you laughed, feeling his teeth sinking into your skin as if he wanted to take a bite, and he would do that if he could. he could devour you and not waste a thing.

“nah. just your natural scent. and a bit of grapefruit.” he hummed, his large hands gripping your buttcheeks, separating them to reveal your two puckering holes, your cunt already drooling, needing him to take care of it.

his mouth watered at the sight as his cock throbbed in need. he didn't think twice or wait for you to beg for him, his tongue was already darting out to taste you, collecting your slimy juices, feeling that his guts were being blessed by your taste, like a sweet nectar.

you gasped softly, your forehead resting on the rigid wood desk, his tongue molding between your slick folds as the tip of his nose tickled your asshole, making it gap at the slightest touch. the wet muscle made its way upwards, sinking into your needy hole, going as far as he could, holding your buttocks tightly to keep them apart.

you muffled your moans as he fucked you with his tongue, biting your arm to prevent some loud moaning. his tongue moved up just a bit, licking your perineum just to tease your tight hole, circling the spot with the tip of his tongue, making you squirm.

“too bad we're out of lube.” he sighed, more to himself than to you. he knew you still could try it just like this, lubricating you with lots of spit and stretch you with his fingers until you were relaxed enough to accommodate his cock, but he didn't want to risk hurting you and consequently never wanting to try again.

you chuckled softly, remembering that you're indeed out of lube. alex ended up overdoing it last time because he felt like it was never enough. or maybe he just liked to see how easily he could fuck you from behind, seeing how his cock disappeared inside your hole that was tighter and warmer than your pussy.

“maybe next time?” you suggested, feeling the tip of his tongue threatening to enter, the sensation almost overwhelming you.

“yeah. i'll remember to buy the whole supply of lube next time i stop by the drugstore.” he said, giving you one last lick, one of his hands went down to stroke his cock lightly, he was hard as a rock at this point, aching to be inside you. his internal struggle with music could wait a bit.

alex's right hand spread your right ass cheek while his left hand guided his cock to your entrance, playing a bit with you, his tip threatening to enter, making a small “pop” when he pulled back. you were about to complain about it, but your unspoken words disappeared when he eased inside you, his thick cock filling every space as if it was molded especially for you.

“oh fuck, yes…” you gasped, your hands closing into fists on the edges of the desk, your knuckles turning white as he bottomed out slowly, pulling back until he saw his tip, slamming back inside your cunt again.

“fucking love this pussy, did i tell you that already?” he groaned, lifting your leg so you could bend more on the desk, allowing him to bury his cock deeper inside your clenching walls.

“everyday.” you said. you almost smiled at the thought if he wasn't picking up his pace gradually, your mind and body filled by him and only him. his fingers gripping the flesh of your ass cheeks, leaving a red mark upon their wake.

alex collected a small amount of saliva on his mouth, angling his head to spat directly on your asshole, watching how it slided, coating his cock as he moved in and out of you at a frantic pace, the desk hitting the wall with each violent thrust.

he couldn't help but brought his thumb there, circling the tight ring teasingly, threatening to go in a little bit more and more, until the tip of his thumb went through, stretching you just a little, but it was enough to make you gasp and clench more around him.

“do you like that, hmm? do you like having your holes filled by me?" he growled when he reached your ear, his thumb sinking deeper into your hole until his knuckle, making you squirm even more, whining in pleasure as you nodded, the idea of letting him take you from behind like this didn't sound so bad even with the lack of lube. “dirty little thing.”

you brought your hand to your clit, your eager fingers trying to build the pleasure faster as your body heated up, like there's an inferno inside you. but no, it was alex. just alex.

alex notices your subtle moves between your legs, his thumb abandoning your gaping hole to grab your wrist, pinning it behind your back, holding it tightly with his other free hand.

“no. only i can do this.” he said, his voice sounding demanding and authoritative despite the husky tone. it wasn't like you couldn't touch yourself, but he loved the idea of touching you, of being the only reason you're completely destroyed after he's done with you. he wanted to be everything to you and do everything for you.

your hand was replaced by his, his fingers already coated with your wetness when he rubbed against your folds, feeling the outline of his cock sliding in and out of you, filling you to the brim and even making you stand on the tip of your toes.

“a-alex, i'm gonna cum, please…” you panted, almost passing out, he was taking you so hard, like he was angry or frustrated with you. yeah, he was frustrated, but not with you. never with you.

“yeah, i know, baby.” he whispered, rubbing your clit sloppily because of the position, but still making you go crazy with his movements, hitting that sweet spot inside you over and over again, determined to reduce you to a crying mess as you came on his cock and your body collapses onto the desk.

in no time, the feeling of orgasm hits you hard, your whole body lost all strength and you felt the knot in your stomach undoing abruptly, your breath completely disappearing for a few seconds, replaced by a moan that was almost a scream.

contrary to what you thought, he didn't stop there. firstly, you didn't even know why you thought he would stop. he never stops after your first orgasm.

he flipped you over, slipping out of you just to fill you up again, not even giving you time to open your eyes to look at him, forcing your sore pussy to accommodate his veiny and angry cock once again.

“too cockdrunk already?” he smirks at your wrecked state, making you rest your calves on his shoulders. you didn't even need to answer him, even because you could barely form coherent words.

he continued at the same intensity while you tried to escape because you were already crying and didn't know if you could handle the overstimulation he was giving you, your legs wobbly like jelly failing on his sides, being supported by his forearms since his hands were gripping your thighs, preventing you from running away or closing your legs.

“come for me again, darlin’. i know you can do it.” alex said to you, his voice sounding like a rough melody as his face came close to yours, placing kisses along your jaw.

and again, another orgasm consumed you in a much more intense way, your cervix hurt and you felt that you're so aroused and wet that it was already running down your legs as you cried out.

“so pretty.” he praised you, his index finger strolling through your half-open lips, passing through them and entering your mouth, pressing on your tongue. “wider.” he commanded, putting more pressure on your tongue with his finger, forcing you to open your mouth wider.

he took his finger out of your mouth, squeezing your face with his firm hand as he spat inside your mouth, hitting your tongue and the back of your throat. it didn't catch you by surprise, actually. it just turned you on, even if you were already at the height of your sensitivity.

“swallow.” he tapped your cheek, allowing you to swallow it without even thinking, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out just to show him that you did it. “good fucking girl.” he said proudly, his cock twitching at your submissive side, teetering the edge. “fuck, 'm gonna cum, baby. where do you want?”

“inside me.” you answered without thinking twice. it wasn't like you didn't like it when he came on your face or in your mouth or on your tits. but you liked the primal feeling of him spilling all his cum inside you. he chuckled darkly.

“greedy. want my cum all to yourself?” he asked and you nodded, finding the strength to lock your legs around him as he picked up his pace slightly, chasing his own release after making you cum twice.

“you know that i love it when you fill me up.” you whispered, propping yourself up on your elbows to reach his bottom lip, nibbling it gently as he grabbed you, holding you close as his head sank into the curve of your neck.

“oh fuck, f-fuck…” he choked on his own words as he came inside you, spilling jets his seed deep inside your cunt to the point that it leaked out, staining your legs and your bathrobe. “jesus fucking…” he paused, catching his breath as the last remnants leave his body to fill you. “christ.”

you finally could let your body dismantle on the desk, your head resting on the window sill, your blurry vision trying to get used to the view of the blue sky on that particularly sunny afternoon.

“you good?” he asked you, still buried deep inside you, giving you sweet kisses along your stomach.

“always good with you.” you smiled at him when he reached your chest, resting his head on your left boob, listening to the rapid beating of your heart.

“you just gave me an idea, y'know?” he whispered to you, his warm and ragged breathing tickling your skin. “my beautiful inspiring muse. don't know what would become of me without you.”

“you flatter me.” you chuckled, running your hand through his messy hair, his sweaty scalp moistened the tips of your fingers.

“just telling the truth.” he chuckled along with you, his pretty and wide eyes looking at you in awe. “i love you.” he whispered again, as if he was sharing a secret that only you needed to know.

you looked back at him, taking the sight of his face so close to yours. you were looking at him with that loving gaze while you felt the blood flow increase in your veins because your heart was beating too fast. but it was impossible not to have that feeling when looking at his slightly contorted mouth as he absentmindedly bit the inside of his cheek, his cheekbones were flushed and his eyes again took on that slightly greenish brown hue when the light reflected off them in that underexposure of colors that matched the ebony of his hair unruly now without the hair gel.

yeah, you loved him too.

“i love you too.” you answered him, seeing the smile forming on his lips, the corners of his eyes getting a bit wrinkly. you loved these little features of him.

he leaned in to kiss you, his body moved and consequently his soft cock slipped out of you, you both groaning softly at the disconnection. but the kiss made it better.

“i’ll have to take another shower.” you mumbled between his lips when you felt his cum running out of you, running down your thighs. he chuckled, it wasn't like you're complaining, much less that he had regretted it. “when will you work on your idea?”

he pretended to think, his lips still sealed in yours.

“after the shower.” he blowed some air inside your mouth like he was inflating a balloon. you laughed, rolling your eyes. he always played these stupid pranks on you, but you loved it.

“will you join me?" you asked with raised eyebrows.

“only if you have me.”

you didn't have to answer him.

#doctor says #alex turner x reader #alex turner smut #alex turner fanfic #alex turner x y/n #alex turner fanfiction #alex turner fic #alex turner x fem!reader #alex turner x you #alex turner

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andbreakmynose · 2 months ago

Text

he won't go away

he's haunting you. am al.

WARNINGS: p-in-v, he's possessive and a bit mean, feelings, references to drugs/drinking, technically cheating but not really

WORD COUNT: 4.2k

Being a young woman in the 21st century had to be torture. You thought the breakup would be the hardest part; moving all your stuff out of the shared apartment was incredibly sad; sometimes you still got sad when you saw his shirts in your closet. But it turns out the hardest part is actually trying to get back out there. The apps of hell.

It was practically impossible to find someone who matched your standards. Alex, your ex, was so perfect in (almost) every way that everyone else paled in comparison. Seriously, how were you supposed to fall back in love when your last boyfriend was a global phenomenon rockstar?

He was almost everywhere you looked, practically inescapable. Every shop you went into was selling his newest record or playing one of their songs. His face was in every magazine at every store. The month you spent traveling in the states didn’t even help; Arctic Monkeys had finally crossed over, and he was big there too.

The worst part of it was that even when you scrolled Tinder to move on, you’d see him. Someone would have them as his favorite band; they’d have a lyric in their bio; they’d be wearing merchandise; or you’d check their Instagram to see concert photos. It was a frustrating cycle of constant reminders that he didn’t want you anymore.

That’s what he said—that he couldn’t stand to be in a relationship with you anymore. That he was moving on to “bigger and better things,” and you weren’t a part of that. You had sensed it was coming; he had started to become cockier; he was drinking and smoking more, and you even thought he might be taking something stronger. You didn’t blame him though; he was on top of the world, and you were just his hometown girlfriend who worked a 9-5.

You didn’t mean to keep up with him, but you read the headlines: ‘Arctic Monkeys Announces Massive UK Tour’, ‘Arctic Monkeys Sells Out Madison Square Garden’, ‘Arctic Monkeys To Headline Reading and Leeds.”

Those were tolerable; you knew he’d be big. The ones that bothered you were the personal ones. ‘Alex Turner Seen Wasted After Big Night Out’, ‘Alex Turner Seen With Another Mystery Blonde’. That was frustrating. You envied him in a sense; he didn’t have to worry about seeing your name anywhere. He was able to move on as quickly as possible and never look back. He had all the money, all the girls, and everything he could ever need at his disposal.

It was obvious you had become bitter; your best friend had remarked that you ‘just hadn’t been yourself’ since the breakup and “needed to get laid soon” or you’d “become a criminal case.” Maybe she was right, and that's what put you on the apps. You wanted to find a nice, normal man, someone who wasn’t performing at the Olympics.

The guys were nice for the most part. You had seen a few cute ones and had a few good conversations. There was even a date once! He was a nice guy from the north side of town who worked at a bank. The dinner you had with him was good, but the chemistry just wasn’t there.

For every match there were at least 50 strikeouts, but you were hopeful about this current guy. His name was Rob. Rob was tall and had pretty blue eyes and worked a well-paying job in finance. He liked nature and Oasis and had two dogs. He was the type of normalcy you craved. He asked you on a date, and of course you said yes; maybe you’d finally move on.

The two of you decided on one of your favorite pubs on a Saturday. And when Saturday came along, you pushed your nerves to the side and tried to look as presentable as possible. You felt a bit guilty about wearing a dress that Alex bought you, but you had to wear it at some point. You cover yourself in perfume and slip on your finest lace lingerie, just for the confidence. Today is supposed to be the day you become the new you.

Rob was already there when you arrived; he wore a nice outfit and looks good, but you’re not immediately head over heels. Maybe this would take time; that was fine. He gestured to the open bar stool next to him and the pint waiting for you. You smiled and walked over to him.

“Hey! Thanks for... this.” You pointed your head towards the pint and took a seat next to him.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” he smiled at you, giving your body a once-over. “You’re even more beautiful in person.”

His compliment doesn’t fluster you as much as it should, but you still smiled and thanked him, attaching your lips to the glass and taking a drink.

The conversation was easy; he told you about what it’s like to work in finance, and you told him what it’s like in your occupation. He showed you pictures of his three dogs whose names you could not remember, and you showed him pictures from your trip to Italy last year, neglecting to add the piece of information that you went with Alex.

Things seemed to be going really well; your bar stool had ended up closer to his, and his hand brushed across your knee a few times. Maybe the night would end well and you’d get to go home with him; you hadn’t been fucked since Alex and your vibrator weren’t doing the job anymore. In fact, it was going so well that you were about to ask about a second date when his head perked up and his eyes darted to a corner.

“Holy shit! Is that the guy from Arctic Monkeys?”

Your first thought was that somehow he knew that he was fucking with you and wanted to get you upset. But then you noticed the genuine surprise and shock in his face—a lump forming in your throat. Maybe he got his people confused?

The split second glance you turned in Alex’s direction is all you needed to know it was him. He was carrying himself the same way he had been, and you could almost hear the boom of his voice from the other side of the pub. Christ. Your stomach suddenly felt like you could throw up any second.

“I think it is.” Your voice was barely above a mutter, but Rob heard it all, his face perking up even more.

“That’s so cool! I saw them last time they came here!”

You nodded and said you saw them too. You didn’t tell him that you also saw them in London and Paris and New York and Tokyo, and that he dedicated a song to you on your birthday at a show in New Jersey. It felt like years of memories were flooding back, but you just had to repress that.

It seemed that Rob wasn’t that big of a fan because he quickly diverted his attention back to you and started talking about some hike he took a few months ago. You’re sure it was lovely, but your mind couldn’t really focus on anything but the man who hadn’t even noticed your presence. You kept nodding and attached your lips to your drink.

After a bit of one-sided conversation, Rob patted you on the back and excused himself to the restroom. He leaves you alone. Alone with Alex, only half a room away. You ordered a second drink to try and distract yourself, but that’s no help.

You swear you hear your name come from his lips, echoing in your eyes in an almost painful way. It’s just a hallucination; you’re just remembering stuff. That’s what you tell yourself.

“Her? Yeah, she was my bitch ex. Too uptight for me, if you know what I mean.” His voice booms through the room, like he’s purposely saying it as loud as possible because he knows you’ll hear. Fuck.

You couldn’t help it; you had to check. When you turn your head to the side to see him again, his dark eyes are staring right into you, that cocky smirk he adopted in the last months of your relationship present on his face. He caught you.

You didn’t recognize the guys he was with; they were probably figures from his new life. You also didn’t recognize the blonde girl he conveniently had his hand on the ass of. You couldn’t tell rather to be flustered or pissed that his attention was on you and not whoever she was. He still stared directly into your soul; something between anxiety and sorrow filled you up.

Rob returned after a minute, snapping you out of your trance and pulling your attention back onto him. Right, your date. You smiled and tried to focus on his face—his face that was nowhere near as attractive as Alex’s.

“So, what was it you were saying about hiking in Ireland?” It was a copout, but it was safe; he was more than happy to talk about himself. He went on and on about the cows and the grass and his sister Emily.

Every few minutes you’d hear Alex say something else. Something about the ‘pretty lady standing next to him’ or the ‘total fucking bender’ he went on last week. Was he trying to rile you up? Get a reaction? Well yeah, it worked. You could feel your blood start to boil while you drank more and more.

That caught up; after maybe your third drink you had to pee, really bad. You stood up and apologized to Rob before excusing yourself in the ladies room. Your head was starting to spin, and it would be lying to say you weren’t overwhelmed. You did your business and took a second to breathe.

You opened the door to head back to your date that was going very well. Thank you. The door creaked open and then shut just as instantly, your back against the door and your body back in the bathroom. Him.

He wasn’t a big man by any means, but his presence took up the entire room; it made you feel small. Alex was staring down at you, and it was hard to tell if he was really bored or really turned on.

“We need to talk.” Is all that he uttered? His voice was surprisingly monotone for him.

“In the ladies room at a pub?”

He nods.

“I have a date. He’ll get worried.” You crossed your arms, trying to hold your ground even though all you wanted to do was fold.

“Yeah. That’s why we need to talk.” He backed away from the door and leaned against the wall, very obviously checking himself out in the mirror. He ran a hand through his quiff and turned back to you with a scoff. “I don’t like him. He’s a twat.”

You scoff back, “Yeah? Well, last time I checked, you didn’t like me either.” Alex winces at this.

“I never said that,” he corrected you, his face slightly less smug. “I said I wanted to explore. Try new things. Spend the rest of my tour living like a real rockstar.” He pauses for dramatic effect, staring you up and down. “But I’m over that, baby; I want you back. I want to be us again. Please.”

You couldn’t tell if he was drunk or not; he probably was. He was probably drunk and didn’t know what he was saying. But goddamnit, these last months of pain came back, and you couldn’t help but feel for him. You wanted him back too.

“What about your new life? The fucking benders. All your new friends out there... the new girl you were fondling earlier.” You needed to stay strong; you couldn’t cave like that. You made sure that all your mockery and frustration with him for the last months came out in your voice.

He sighed again, his hand returning to his quiff. You couldn’t tell if he was that obsessed with himself that he wanted to perfect it constantly or if it was a nervous habit.

“What about your new life? Chad from finance is telling you about the stock market and his university days.”

“Rob, actually. And he’s very nice. Nicer than you’ve been this past year.” An eye roll.

Alex guffawed at this, nodding his head in a way that reminded you of a movie greaser.

“And yet you still want me more than him, don’t you? You want me again just as bad as I want you.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong. Maybe it was the alcohol, but yeah, you were getting hot and bothered. The rockstar act was obnoxious, but it was also sexy as hell.

“I can’t just leave. Rob’s a nice guy; I don’t want to destroy him.” Even if you were about to throw yourself at your ex, you still had enough morals to think about Rob.

Alex hummed and thought for a second; he wasn’t going to let you just run away from him. He needed you to come back home.

“Go up to him and say ya got your period or something. You need to go home and take care of it. You’re a smart girl; figure it out.” Condescension laced his voice. He brought his hand up and ran it across your arm just to watch the goosebumps it elicited. “See, you want this. Come home with me.”

You couldn’t fight it anymore and nodded. You were weak for him; he was your weakness. He was perfect, and you couldn’t go without feeling him again.

“I’ll meet you out front,” the smirk reappeared on his face, and he gently guided you out of the bathroom with his hand on your ass. He went right towards the exit and left you to go right towards Rob.

“Hey Rob. I’m sorry it took me forever. I have some lady problems going on, and I need to run home and grab a pad. I’ll text you about a second date, yeah?” You smiled at him but gave him no time to respond before you were out the front door and Alex was wrapping his big hands around your back. You had a long night ahead.

He kept his hand on your shoulder the entire way home; no words fell from his mouth. There was this feeling he was giving you, like he was disappointed beyond words even though he was the one that ended things.

The drive to his place was painstakingly familiar. You had done this very same trip back and forth more times than you could count. One of your first dates had been him taking you here and then kissing you while the band played a Stone Roses song; maybe you had fucked with fate by returning to the same location.

You felt a sharp pain searing through your heart when you saw the brick exterior of his flat. That was your home. Your home for two years that you had been shut out of only within the last 5 months. And you were back.

He made a whistling noise followed by a click, as if you were a dog. You’re embarrassed in the way you immediately folded, hopping out of the car and walking up the familiar stairs to the front door. His keys opened it up, and you took a step inside, the sight of it all flooding your senses.

The flat was redecorated, but it was still yours; there was your old sofa in the corner, the painting you bought with him at the market, and his collection of leather boots sat at the door. The smell was also different; it was no longer you and Alex. It was just Alex. Musky cologne and cigarette smoke replaced what was once the smell of your baking and your combined scents.

Alex watched you take in the sight; a humorless chuckle left his lips. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel the same pain; he missed you more than he wanted to admit. His eyes flicked back over to your body, scanning you in. Fuck, that dress.

“Why are you wearing my dress?” It was basically a bark, an accusation. All pain he felt was met with anger. You were wearing something he bought you to see another man.

“It’s not your dress. It’s mine.” Playing dumb never worked with Alex, so you were unsure why you did it. Maybe it was a defense mechanism that led to your relationship's downfall.

“Don’t be a bitch. I bought that dress with my money for my eyes to see you in it. It’s my dress.” His voice was harsher now; the frustration of months without you and the alcohol clouded his head.

“I thought it made me look pretty. And until an hour ago, you wanted nothing to do with me. I figured game was game.” There’s a truth to your words, but it still elicited a deep scoff from the back of his throat. He took a step towards you.

“Does make you look pretty. You’ve always been the prettiest baby.” You started to take this as him softening in a way; he was complimenting you instead of getting mad again. But then he took another step forward and, in one swift motion, pulled the dress over the top of your head, leaving you exposed in your lace bra and panty set. A deep blush covered your face, and a groan left his mouth.

“Fuck. You’re killing me, baby.” His hands started to travel up and down your body, making your body shiver when he ran by your chest and hips. “You expected him to take you back home? You wanted him to fuck you and make you forget all about me?”

“I tried,” but before you could even begin to explain the complexity of emotions running through your brain, he threw you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. It was simultaneously the most degrading, humiliating, and hot thing you’d ever experienced.

He brought you over to the bed, your old shared bed, and threw you down on it, looking down at you with lust-blown eyes.

“I tried. I really tried. But I just can’t fucking get over you. Been looking for you everywhere, hoping to make you mine again.” The confession made your heart stop, but not for long until his hands started to remove your bra. All the heat and tension of the moment made your panties start to feel wetter, and your nipples perked up. Alex licked his lips.

“You were looking for me?” You tried to manage your cool and not give in too easily. You hadn’t been fucked in so long, but he was supposed to be your ex; he kicked you out, and now he’s begging for you back.

“You were looking for me too. Don’t lie.” He said it like he knew it was a truth, even if you hadn’t admitted it yet. His hands slipped off your underwear and slipped it in his pocket. “You’re not wearing these for someone else again.”

After seeing how you bit your lip to hide a moan, he smirked and ran two long fingers through your folds. Nothing could compare to his touch; you had tried so many different vibrators, and yet you hadn’t felt pleasure like this since the last time he touched you. A small whimper escaped your lips, and thats when he knew he won. You were his again.

He started to circle his fingers around your entrance, brushing against your clit a few times before entering you. The first moan of the night escaped your lips, and he gave a knowing nod and chuckle. His free hand worked to dispose of his leather jacket and then started to work at the buttons of his shirt.

“I’ll fuck you if you say you’re mine again. If you promise to come back to me. Be my baby again. Me and you.” He rasped, voice pooling with desire, dominance, and genuine affection. It was an odd combination, but so was Alex. It all made you miss him more. He bent his fingers inside of you and started to move them faster.

“SHIT! Yeah. Yeah. I’ll be yours again. Please Alex.” You felt pathetic at how easy you gave in, but the sight of the bulge pressing against his jeans was enough to show that you weren’t the only one desperate. And it was nice to know he wanted you back for more than just a fuck.

“Atta girl.” He smirked and then removed his hand from inside of you, bringing it to his lips to taste the distinct and vaguely sour-sweet juices from you. The sight was pornographic, and while you whined at the lack of contact, you moaned at the sight. “Missed your taste,” he added before he used his hands to slip his jeans and boxers off in one solid motion.

And there you were, back to old times. Two naked figures in a shared bedroom. Most of your nights pre-breakup were spent fucking until you both passed out. You were sure tonight would be no different.

He pushed you back on the bed slightly, angling his own body so his throbbing would line up with your leaking cunt. The sight made you salivate; he was big, and the head was turning red in desperation. It was like his cock missed you just as much as the rest of him.

He leaned down to meet your lips in a searing kiss, not even bothering to ask you for permission to slip his tongue in your mouth. He let this dance go on for a bit, the kiss becoming sloppier and teeth starting to collide. He let you get totally preoccupied in the kiss before he shoved himself inside of you with no real warning, his entire length puncturing your hole.

You were definitely tighter than last time you two fucked, the result of the absence of him. He smiled at that; it felt better than it ever had, and it was a confirmation you were really holding yourself back for him.

“Tight baby. Thank you for not sharing my pussy with everyone else.” He chuckled a bit at his own words, as if they were funny, before he decided you had had enough time to adjust to his stretch and began to move.

Just as he did, the moans began to fall from your mouth, the pleasure beginning to build up in ways you forgot were possible. Every movement stretched your tight warmth out more and more, filling you up with such deliciousness that you couldn’t help but cry a stream of ‘Alex!”.

His breath started to become a bit shallower, and he reached out to palm at your tits while he thrust. It was like a teenager seeing them for the first time, but he had missed them so much. His fingers pinched at your nipples, his cock hit every nerve entrance in your vagina, and his mouth returned to yours to envelope you in a passionate fire. Every part of you felt hot, and every part of him felt hot. Just how it was supposed to be.

A pace was set after a minute; he was fast and hard because he needed this and he knew you did too. You knew he wouldn’t last too long out of the sheer intensity and desperation of it all.

As his grunts became louder and his movements faster, you brought your hand down to circle around your clit, the little movements causing a full-body shiver to run down and a stream of obscenities leaving your mouth. He grinned at this but didn’t move your hand; he’d usually help you out, but he was too preoccupied with your perfect tits. Every sense of yours was activated, and on full sensitivity, it was just too hot. Your vibrators couldn’t compare to him, and he realized then that your pussy had ruined every other girl for him. He spent months seeking pleasure, but you’re the only one he wanted.

It was the hottest feeling in the world when you felt his dick begin to twitch inside of you; the addition of this made everything just the hotter. You sped your hand movements up and your back arched slightly, your mouth falling open and your eyes turning white. You two were both close.

It was a sudden snap of the coil inside your stomach that had you cumming, practically exploding in bliss. It was an orgasm to an extreme you hadn’t had in a while, maybe since even before the breakup.

The feeling of you cumming just turned Alex on more, and he was soon to follow after, making one final thrust before he pulled out and covered your stomach in warm lines of milky cum. He stared at it for a second, finding it the most beautiful sight in the world, before collapsing next to you, catching his breath.

The two of you layed like that for a while, chests returning to normal speeds and minds trying to process what just happened. His cum was still on your stomach, but all you could think about was how you had just crossed a line you were never supposed to cross with an ex. As if he could sense this, he lifted his head up and wiped the cum off your stomach with his shirt from the floor. It was laundry day tomorrow anyway.

“That was... incredible. I missed you, baby.” He said, and his voice returned to a softness you only remembered from your most intimate moments.

“I missed you too.” You giggled a bit at his choice of cleaning material but smiled at his words, moving your body a little closer to his when he laid down again.

“Good. I want you to be my girl again.

“I want to be your girl again. We’ll figure this out in the morning, I guess.” You were both too fucked out to make logical, rational decisions.

“Yeah. We’ll get through this. I won’t be a twat again. I promise.” And then he pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead, almost like a silent promise that he wouldn’t. At the moment you trusted him, but maybe it was just the sex lingering in your brain. At that moment, what you knew was that the man you had loved for years was back next to you, and Rob from finance was someone you’d never have to worry about again.

A/N: this is shit again but i felt like putting something out. currently in the process of applying to transfer universities so i'm pretty out of time.

#andbreakmynose #alex turner #alex turner fanfic #alex turner fic #alex turner smut #alex turner x fem!reader #alex turner x reader #alex turner x you #fanfic

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argumentativantitheticaldream · 17 days ago

Text

𝐈 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲

ੈ✩₊christmas at your old family home˚˚୨୧⋆

Warnings: age-gap, smut and handjob

Word Count: 7.2k

Under the twinkling string lights that were somehow still aglow, the path to my old holiday home glistened with an incandescent glow, blanketed in a thick layer of freshly fallen snow. Towering evergreens flanked either side, their boughs sagging under the weight of frost, as though bowing in reverence to the season’s magic. I stopped to stare at the shimmering colors that reflected off the frosty ground, their soft hues painted the snow beautifully.

The air was crisp, biting at my cheeks, but it carried that unmistakable scent of pine and woodsmoke, a fragrance that wrapped around me like a scarf. Every crunch of my boots felt louder than it should, the sound sharp in the stillness. Yet it’s a sound I could remember clearer now, as though the years had rolled back in an instant.

The house appeared suddenly through the trees, as though it’d been waiting for my presence. Its roof was heavy with snow, the gables edged with glinting icicles. The front windows glistened softly, the warm light inside spilling onto the porch, onto the wreath hanging on the door. The red ribbon was a little frayed and the plastic firs had started to discolour but it was that same wreath from all those years ago.

Every step I took over the frost-laden ground seemed as though I was splitting the peace this house had sat in for years. I could almost hear the hum of voices from years ago, how my mother would call us in from the cold, the sound of wrapping paper tearing and the crackle of the fire. For a moment, I wasn’t stood at an abandoned house but I was outside of a home bustling with people. Laughter seemed to echo faintly, ghostly yet comforting, woven into the fabric of this place. I recalled snowball fights in the front yard, the smell of cinnamon wafting from the kitchen, and the way the world always seemed simpler here. The memories are almost tangible, pressed against me like a familiar embrace.

The path, though dusted with snow, felt alive like an artery that led straight to the heart of my childhood, pulsing with the energy of holidays past. As I reached the porch, I hesitated, letting the moment linger. It felt as though the house had been waiting for me, timeless and tender.

I hesitated for a moment on the porch, my hand hovering over the doorknob. It felt almost sacred, standing here again, as though stepping inside might disturb the memories still lingering in the air. But the soft glow of the lights through the frosted windows and the faint hum of something–music?, drew me forward.

As the door creaked open, the familiar scent hit me first: pine, woodsmoke, and something faintly spiced, like mulled wine or cinnamon. The warmth of the room wrapped around me instantly, chasing away the chill clinging to my coat. I stepped inside, and there he was, my dad's best friend, Alex, standing near the fireplace, his broad shoulders backlit by the dancing flames.

He looked the same as I remembered, though a few fine lines had etched themselves around his eyes and mouth, giving him a rugged, almost weathered charm. His brown hair, still thick, caught the light, glinting with strands of silver that hadn’t been there before. And his eyes—deep and warm, the kind of brown that reminded me of autumn woods met mine, sparking with recognition and something unspoken.

“Look at you,” he said, his voice a low rumble, full of surprise and affection. “It’s been… what? Seven years?”

I managed a shy smile, brushing the snowflakes from my hair as I stepped fully into the room. “Eight,” I corrected softly, my voice small in the cozy expanse of the living room. The contrast between us struck me in that moment; he, tall and steady, every bit the grown man I’d remembered, and me, barely twenty and still finding my place in the world. I was sweet, I suppose, in the way people describe someone who hasn’t yet been hardened by life. Though we shared the same brown hair and eyes, he carried the weight of experience, and mine the soft light of youth.

Alex chuckled, running a hand through his hair as if trying to shake off the years. “You’re not a kid anymore.”

I shrugged out of my coat, suddenly self-conscious under his gaze, though it was anything but unkind. “And you haven’t changed a bit,” I said, though it wasn’t entirely true. He’d grown older, yes, but there was something deeper there, an enduring warmth, a steadiness that felt grounding that I hadn't noticed until now.

“Come on,” he said, stepping forward and reaching for my coat. “Let’s get you warmed up. You must be freezing out there.”

As he moved past me, his presence filled the space, familiar and comforting in a way that made the house feel even more alive. It was like stepping back in time, but with a strange, bittersweet edge because though nothing had truly changed, I had. I rubbed my hands together, trying to shake the chill from my fingers, even though the warmth of the room was already sinking into me. Alex motioned for me to sit by the fire, but I hesitated, still standing awkwardly in the center of the living room.

“I didn’t… I didn’t mean to show up while you were here,” I blurted, my voice tumbling out faster than I intended. “I just-” I gestured vaguely toward the door, my cheeks flushing under his steady gaze. “I wanted to visit the house. I didn’t know anyone would be here.”

Alex tilted his head slightly, his expression softening. “Why would you think no one would be here? It’s Christmas. Of course someone’s here.”

I shrugged, biting my lip. “I don’t know… I thought maybe it’d just be empty. Like it used to be when we’d come up for the holidays, you know? I guess I just wanted to…” I trailed off, searching for the right words not finding them until he’d interrupted.

His eyes softened, the corners of his mouth twitching into a small, understanding smile. “To remember,” he muttered, as though the words carried weight for him.

“I didn’t mean to intrude,” I added suddenly. “I didn’t even know if the place would still look the same.” I hesitated, my eyes darting to the wreath on the door, the glow of the lights, the crackling fire.

Alex stepped closer, his voice gentle but firm. “You’re not intruding, sweetheart. It’s as much yours as it is mine.”

The warmth in his words caught me off guard, and I found myself swallowing hard against the sudden lump in my throat. For a moment, I just stood there, staring at him, unsure of what to say.

He broke the silence, his voice lightening with a hint of a teasing edge. “Besides, if anyone’s intruding, it’s probably me. I just came up here to get away for a few days, clear my head. Didn’t expect to have company.”

I laughed softly, the sound awkward but genuine. “I guess that makes two of us.”

Alex smiled, his gaze lingering on me for a beat longer before he nodded toward the couch. “Well, since we’re both here, I might as well make the best of it. Sit down. Warm up. I’ll make some tea—unless you’re still a hot chocolate kind of girl?”

I felt my face flush again, this time with a warmth that had nothing to do with the fire. “Hot chocolate sounds perfect,” I admitted quietly, and he nodded, disappearing into the kitchen.

As I sat down on the worn couch, the memories seemed to wrap around me like an old quilt. I let my eyes wander over the room: the familiar beams of the ceiling, the photographs still on the mantel, the faint hum of Christmas music crackling from a vintage radio in the corner. This place hadn’t forgotten me, not even after all these years.

The kitchen was steeped in a quiet kind of warmth, the kind that wrapped itself around you and refused to let go. The air smelled of chocolate, rich and sweet, mingling faintly with the scent of aged wood and the faint musk of a house that had seen generations pass through its doors. I cradled the chipped mug in my hands, its warmth soothing my cold fingers. The faded floral pattern on its surface seemed to whisper of the past, of hands long gone that had held it just as I did now.

Across from me, Alex sat in the weathered stool that shifted under his weight. He held his mug close, letting the steam rise and curl around his face like an ephemeral veil.

“You’d have caught your death if you stayed out in that snow any longer, love,” he said, his voice quiet but filled with an easy familiarity. His eyes scanned the room, lingering on the crooked bookshelf, the worn rug, the faded curtains that swayed slightly in the draft from the window, I assumed he was avoiding my intrusive gaze.

I took a sip from my mug. The chocolate was thick and velvety, the perfect kind of sweet. It spread warmth through my chest, a feeling that wasn’t entirely from the drink.

For a while, we talked about everything and nothing, our voices mingling with the sound of the wind outside. The house seemed to breathe with us, its wooden bones creaking softly in response. I watched Alex’s hands as they wrapped around his mug, his fingers strong yet gentle, his nails short and clean. The way his thumb traced absent circles along the edge of the ceramic seemed almost hypnotic.

As I reached for my mug again, our hands brushed. Just a whisper of skin against skin, but it was enough to make the moment still. His fingers were warm, rougher than I’d expected, but gentle in a way that sent a ripple of something unspoken through me.

He glanced up, his eyes meeting mine for a fleeting second. “Sorry,” he murmured, though his hand didn’t move right away.

“It’s fine,” I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. The words felt heavier than they should have, carrying a weight I couldn’t quite name.

For a moment, the room seemed to hold its breath. The fire crackled faintly in the corner, but everything else faded into the stillness between us. Then Alex pulled his hand away, his lips curving into a sheepish grin.

“Careful,” he said lightly, breaking the tension as he raised his mug again. “Wouldn’t want to spill and ruin your mother’s precious mugs.”

I smiled, though my heart was still beating faster than it should. “She’d never let me live it down.”

He laughed softly, the sound filling the room, but the echo of that brief touch lingered, quietly reshaping the space between us.

The fire crackled softly, its warmth seeping into the room and wrapping around us like a heavy quilt. I stretched out on the sofa, my legs tucked under me, while he sat at the other end, one arm resting along the backrest, the other draped casually over his lap. His presence filled the room effortlessly, a quiet confidence that seemed to settle into the old wooden beams and faded upholstery.

The bows on the back of my boots caught his eye as I shifted slightly, the ribbons brushing against the sofa cushions. Without saying a word, he leaned forward, his fingers brushing the edge of the soft fabric.

“These are… sweet,” he said, his voice low, almost amused, as he hooked a finger around one of the loops and tugged gently.

I glanced over at him, catching the playful smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Sweet?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow.

He nodded, his hand still toying with the ribbon, the firelight catching the roughness of his knuckles. “Yeah. Like something a little girl would wear. But they suit you.”

I scoffed, though I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks. “You know, some people find them charming.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” he said, his voice teasing but soft. He tugged at the bow again, looser this time, like he was testing the strength of the knot. His fingers lingered there, warm and deliberate, as though the act of untying it was more interesting than it should have been.

“Alex,” I warned, trying to sound light, though the closeness of his hand sent a shiver through me. “tying those bows took ages.”

His grin widened. “That so? Guess I’d better not ruin your handiwork, then.”

For a moment, neither of us moved. His fingers hovered over the ribbon, brushing lightly against the fabric, and I could feel every quiet pull of the room between us. His eyes flicked up to meet mine, the playful smile fading just slightly, replaced by something softer, quieter.

“I didn’t think you’d still wear things like this,” he said, almost to himself.

I shrugged, my voice a little more hesitant now. “I guess some things don’t change.”

“Not everything has to,” he murmured, letting the ribbon slip from his fingers before leaning back again, the firelight catching the thoughtful curve of his smile.

The ribbon fluttered back into place as he leaned into the sofa, his arm brushing the backrest as though claiming the space between us without thought. I adjusted slightly, the blanket slipping from my shoulders to pool at my waist, though the fire’s heat was enough to keep the chill at bay.

He tilted his head to look at me, his gaze steady but warm. “Houses like this… they take on the weight of the people who leave them behind. It’s why I never stayed in one place long enough to feel that.” his tone shifted back to something firmer, though it still held that quiet intimacy that he seemed to demand.

I looked at him, his words hanging in the air. There was a quiet honesty in what he said, a crack in the carefully composed presence he always carried. “That’s not true, though,” I said, leaning forward slightly. “You come back to people, don’t you? That’s what this is, isn’t it?”

He glanced at me then, the corner of his mouth twitching like he wanted to smile but couldn’t quite let it through. “Touché,” he said, and for a moment, the tension eased, a soft laugh settling between us.

I leaned back again, letting the sofa creak beneath me. “I guess this place will always feel like home,” I said, turning my gaze to the fire. “Even if it’s not the same anymore.”

I felt his hand then, resting on the back of the sofa, just inches from my shoulder. It wasn’t intentional, not exactly, but I was suddenly aware of how little space there was between us. My breath caught slightly, though I tried to hide it, shifting to tuck my legs beneath me again.

The blanket slipped further, and without thinking, he reached out to adjust it, his fingers brushing against my arm. The touch was light, but it sent a ripple through me, one I knew he must have noticed.

The silence between us wasn’t uncomfortable, it was thick, heavy with all the words we weren’t saying. The fire crackled softly, the warmth of it pressing against my skin, but it was his presence that made my chest tighten.

“Funny, isn’t it?” he said finally, breaking the quiet. His voice was low, his gaze still fixed on the fire. “How some moments feel bigger than they should. Like this one. Sitting here with you.”

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. “Yeah,” I said, barely managing the word. “Funny.”

He turned to me then, his expression unreadable but his eyes searching mine, as though waiting for me to say something else or maybe as though he wanted to speak but couldn’t quite find the words.

I hesitated, my eyes dropping to the ribbon he’d let fall loose on my boot. “Everything feels so different when you’re not a kid anymore. The way the house creaks, the way the fire sounds, it’s all the same, but it doesn’t feel the same.”

He nodded, leaning back just slightly, his arm still draped across the back of the sofa. “That’s growing up, I guess. You start to realize the world’s not as big as it felt when you were younger. The edges get sharper. Things feel… closer.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and I wasn’t sure if he was talking about the house or us.

I glanced at him, his face illuminated by the firelight. There was something in the way he looked at me, something quiet and unspoken, as though he was trying to puzzle out the thoughts I couldn’t bring myself to say.

“Closer, huh?” I said, forcing a smile to keep my voice steady. “That’s one way to put it.”

His eyes flicked to mine, catching the faintest hint of mischief. “You have another way?”

I felt the corners of my mouth tug upward despite myself. “Maybe. But I’m not sure you’d like it.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, shifting slightly closer, just enough for me to feel the weight of his presence. “I’m pretty open-minded.”

The words were light, teasing even, but the way he looked at me softened their edge. I bit my lip, unsure whether the warmth in my chest was from the fire or from him.

“Don’t test me,” I said, feigning a warning tone, though I couldn’t keep the smile from my voice.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied, though his gaze lingered, betraying the lie.

The silence that followed felt thicker this time, not awkward but charged, as though the room itself was holding its breath. I let my fingers trail along the edge of the blanket again, a nervous habit I couldn’t seem to shake.

“You’re quiet all of a sudden,” he said, his voice dipping lower, enough to make my pulse quicken.

I glanced at him, meeting his eyes only briefly before looking away. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

The word hung between us, an invitation I wasn’t sure how to answer. I hesitated, letting my gaze drop to the ribbon again, its soft edges now slightly undone.

“You’re doing it again,” he said, his voice tinged with amusement.

“Doing what?” I asked, though I knew exactly what he meant.

“Deflecting,” he said simply, reaching out to brush his fingers against the ribbon again. This time, he tugged it loose entirely, the bow unraveling beneath his touch.

“Alex!” I protested, sitting up straighter.

He smirked, holding up the ribbon as though it were a prize. “Relax. I’ll tie it back, better than it was before.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, though my heart betrayed me with its quickened beat. “You’d better. That bow took me ages.”

“Liar,” he said, leaning forward to take hold of the loose ends. His fingers worked deftly, surprisingly careful for hands that looked so strong.

I watched him, the firelight playing across his features, his brow furrowed slightly in concentration. “You’re awfully invested in this bow,” I said softly, my voice almost lost in the crackle of the fire.

He glanced up at me then, his fingers stilling for just a moment. “Maybe it’s not about the bow.”

The words hit me harder than they should have, the weight of them settling in my chest. I held his gaze, my breath catching as the charged silence returned, this time sharper, more defined.

“Then what is it about?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes searched mine, and for a moment, I thought he might actually answer. But instead, he tied the ribbon neatly, his fingers brushing against the back of my boot as he leaned back with a quiet smile.

“Done,” he said softly, his tone lighter now, though his eyes still held something deeper. “Better than it was before.”

I stared at him, my chest tight with the weight of the moment. “What is it about, Alex?,” I said, though my voice wavered.

His smile deepened, his hand resting casually on the cushion between us. “Shh, darling, you’re disrupting the silence.”

The ribbon sat perfectly tied, a little neater than before, though I barely registered it. My focus was on him, on the easy way he leaned back, his arm still resting on the back of the sofa, his fingers so close they might as well have brushed my shoulder.

The firelight danced across his face, softening the sharp angles of his jaw, and for a moment, I wondered if he felt it too–the pull, the quiet gravity between us that seemed to grow stronger with every passing second.

“You’re staring,” he said, his voice breaking through my thoughts. His tone was light, teasing, but there was something behind it, something softer.

I blinked, caught off guard, and quickly glanced away. “No, I’m not.”

“You are,” he said with a quiet laugh, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “Should I be flattered?”

I scoffed, though my cheeks burned. “Maybe I was just admiring your handiwork.”

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. “The bow, huh?”

“Yes,” I said firmly, though the edge in my voice didn’t quite land. “It’s a very good bow.”

“Thanks, m’love” he said, leaning a little closer, the movement subtle but impossible to ignore. “I take pride in my work.”

The shift in the air was palpable. The teasing, the playful back-and-forth, it was still there, but now it felt like it was building toward something, like the words were just a way to stall whatever was about to happen next.

“I’ll have to keep that in mind,” I murmured, my voice quieter now, almost unsure.

I swallowed, my throat tight, and glanced back up at him. The firelight reflected in his eyes, warm and steady, and for a moment, I felt completely unmoored, like I was standing at the edge of something I couldn’t name.

His voice split the silence, holding a sincere air of honesty. “Christmas doesn’t feel the same now, when I’m not spending it here with your family. When I’m not with you,”

The silence that followed was almost unbearable, thick and heavy with words unsaid. I could feel my heart pounding, and I was sure he could hear it too, the sound impossibly loud in the quiet of the room.

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” I whispered finally, my voice barely audible.

“Why not?” he asked, his gaze unwavering.

“Because…” I hesitated, my breath catching as I searched for an answer. “Because it feels wrong.”

The corner of his mouth lifted, just slightly, but there was no humor in his expression. “Maybe it’s supposed to.”

His hand shifted then, moving from the back of the sofa to rest on the cushion between us. The movement was small, almost imperceptible, but it made my pulse race.

“Are you going to keep playing with that blanket,” he asked, his tone light again, though his eyes betrayed him, “or are you going to actually look at me?”

I froze, my fingers stilling on the fabric as I glanced up at him. His gaze was steady, unwavering, and for the first time, I realized how close he was, close enough that I could feel the warmth of him, even with the fire blazing in the corner.

“I’m looking,” I said softly, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

“Good,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

The room seemed to hold its breath, the fire’s crackle the only sound as his words settled between us. I couldn’t move, couldn’t think—all I could do was watch him, my heart pounding as though it was trying to tell me something I wasn’t ready to hear.

His calloused touch grazed the bows again, this time pulling my boots off with a gentleness that I’d not expected coming from him. He gently pulled at the hem of my sock and ushered me over with a slight nod of his head, his voice monotonous and sure. “Over here, darling.”

The space between us seemed to shrink with every heartbeat, the air heavier, charged with an electric tension that neither of us could ignore. I could feel the weight of his gaze, steady and warm, pulling me toward him. My breath caught as I shifted slightly, the blanket slipping from my shoulders entirely now, exposing the softness of the moment in its most raw form. I wasn’t sure what possessed me, but something in the stillness between us, in the way he looked at me, something told me to move.

Without thinking, I shifted closer, just a little at first, then a little more, until my legs brushed against his. His body shifted instinctively, creating space, but his eyes never left mine, the quiet invitation undeniable.

I settled in slowly, my knees grazing his, my hands resting lightly on his chest for balance, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my fingertips. The sudden proximity, the closeness of his warmth, made my pulse quicken. It was like everything I’d been trying to hide, every silent question, was suddenly laid bare.

There was no hesitation in his gaze, only a softness, a kind of understanding that made my heart race faster than before. And before I could second-guess myself, I shifted again, this time fully into his lap, my legs gently draped over his, my body pressed flush against his chest. The warmth between us was almost overwhelming, but it was a comfort too.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The crackle of the fire filled the silence, and I could hear his steady breathing, feel the way his chest rose and fell beneath my fingertips. My hands rested against his collarbone, the steady rhythm of his pulse under my palm grounding me.

“You’re still quiet,” he murmured, his voice rougher now, like he was trying to keep his own composure. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

I leaned in just slightly, enough for my forehead to rest against his, the gentle heat of his skin against mine making everything else fade away. “Just… taking it all in,” I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. “This moment. You.”

His hands moved then, slowly, carefully, like he was unsure of how much space to take up. One of his hands slid gently up my back, just grazing the skin beneath the hem of my sweater, the touch so light it made my breath catch.

“You feel so… real,” he said, his voice low, thick with meaning. “Like everything else is just noise, and you’re the only thing that's… real.”

I shivered slightly, the warmth of his words sinking into me, filling the space between us in ways I hadn’t expected. Slowly, carefully, I reached up, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw, the rough stubble beneath my fingertips grounding me in this strange, quiet moment.

“I feel it too,” I whispered, moving even closer, until I could feel the heat of his breath against my lips.

He didn’t pull away. Instead, his hand moved to cradle the back of my neck, his thumb brushing softly over my skin, and I closed the small distance between us.

The kiss was slow at first, tender, like we were both trying to navigate the weight of everything that was unspoken between us. His lips were warm, the taste of him familiar, yet new in a way that sent a flutter through my chest. As we deepened the kiss, I felt him pull me closer, the steady thrum of his heart syncing with mine.

When we finally pulled away, our foreheads still pressed together, I could feel the lingering warmth of him, the shared space between us now feeling like something undeniably real.

“Isn’t this wrong?” I said softly, my voice barely more than a breath.

“Do you think it is?�� he whispered back, his fingers brushing through my hair, sending a shiver down my spine.

I shake my head.

I shifted, pressing in a little more, my hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the warmth radiating from him, the solid strength of his body beneath my touch. His hands shifted too, grazing the sides of my face before gently cupping my jaw, his thumb lightly brushing over my lips.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice a whisper, a tremor of uncertainty threading through it, as if he needed my affirmation before he let himself lean in further.

I nodded, a soft exhale escaping me, a breathless laugh at the back of my throat. “Certain,” I whispered. The words felt like an admission, like a truth I hadn’t known I was ready to speak until now.

Without another word, he closed the space between us again, his lips brushing mine once more. This time, the kiss was deeper, more insistent, as if we were both trying to capture something, to hold onto this fleeting connection before it slipped away. His hands slid down to my waist, pulling me in closer, until I could feel the length of him pressed against me, the warmth of his body completely surrounding me.

I didn’t pull away, didn’t hesitate. Instead, I shifted, moving so that I was straddling his lap, my hands curling around the back of his neck, pulling him even closer, as though we were two parts of something that had always been meant to fit together.

His breath hitched, and I could feel the heat rising between us, a soft tension hanging in the air as I traced my fingers along his jaw, feeling the roughness of his stubble beneath my fingertips. He shuddered slightly at the touch, his hands moving to my back again, the warmth of them seeping through my clothes.

“You feel so right here,” he murmured, his lips grazing the edge of my ear as he spoke. The words sent a shiver down my spine, and I pressed in closer, my hands tightening around his neck.

“I know,” I breathed, the sound of my voice a soft gasp against his skin. “I don’t want this to stop.”

His lips found mine again, this kiss more urgent, more frantic, as if we were both desperately trying to keep hold of something that felt too perfect to let go of. My body responded instinctively, moving closer, pressing into him, and I could feel the way his pulse raced under my fingers.

His hands slid up my back, the heat of them spreading through my sweater, and I gasped softly, my body arching toward him in response. The moment felt suspended, as though time itself was holding its breath, waiting for us to take the next step, to move even closer.

Alex’s voice was soft, his hands found my hips and gripped them just enough to keep me steady in his lap. He gently guided my hips over his lap and a pit of warmth settled in my lower stomach, a familiar feeling that echoed through my entire body. His erection pushed against me, straining against the thin polyester of his trousers and it left me aching.

I was already gasping, each subtle shift of his body causing his trousers to rub against mine, sending waves of burning pleasure through my every nerve. The friction, every tiny contact, was enough to leave me breathless, my pulse quickening with each passing second.

“Alex, please-” I murmured against his skin, my voice barely a whisper but heavy with the weight of what I longed for. I tried so hard to maintain some semblance of control, but the need was growing, the desire coiling inside of me. I could feel his warmth radiating through the fabric of my clothes, like his very touch was igniting a fire within me. My hands clutched at his shirt, my nails lightly digging into his skin as if grounding myself, trying not to let the rush of feelings overtake me.

A reassuring nod brushed against my hair, the weight of his breath warm and steady. Then, with deliberate slowness, his hands slid down my sides, the sensation sending a soft ripple through me, each movement more intentional than the last. My breath caught as he paused at my hips, his fingertips grazing the gold embellishments of his belt before he quickly unbuckled the strip of leather and let it falter to the ground. I felt my chest tighten, and the world around us seemed to fade, leaving only the two of us in this fragile moment of suspended tension.

His hands moved lower, steady, calculated, as if he was savoring every inch of my skin he could touch. I could barely catch my breath, each moment feeling like an eternity, his body an undeniable magnet pulling me closer. My pulse raced as he leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Lift your hip, love.” His voice was muffled against my skin as he left kisses down my jaw but I still complied, lifting my hips from his lap.

He didn't waste a second, tugging down his trousers and boxers simultaneously, needing to free himself from the pressure and then his hands found me. The tenderness of his touch juxtaposed the way he’s just handled himself, his rough fingers trailed up my skin and under my skirt, finding my panties. He held my hips firmly and pushed up against me, his tip brushing the material of my underwear. It was achingly pleasurable and a reluctant whine spilled from my lips.

He was relentless as he spread his precum over the fabric and rubbed the lace over my clit only using his length. I bit down on my lip and his eyes caught mine. A wicked grin found his mouth and he nodded knowingly, slowly slidiing two fingers down from my navel to my clit, then pushing the fabric aside, spreading the wetness around which echoed through the confined space of the living room.

“So wet for me, love.” His voice was husky and drawled as if his sentence was one big word.

My thighs had started to tremble and his unwavering teasing had become overstimulating. “Alex,” I pleaded.

His face flashed with recognition and he gently rested his hardness against my entrance. “Relax, hm?” Alex muttered roughly. He used his hands that were secured with a white-knuckle grip on my hips to guide me onto him. He filled me perfectly but the initial stretch sent a gasp from my lips into the air, splitting the heavy silence.

“Perfect” He groaned through gritted teeth as he started to rock his hips deeper, slowly moving them back and forth. I could feel him as he twitched inside me, each brush of his tip against my walls coaxed a wanting sound from my lips. His grip tightened on my hips pulling me down onto him to meet every thrust, he pushed deeper, brushing my sweet spot that sent a harsh jolt of heat through me.

“Alex,” His name was all I could manage. It escaped me like a prayer, soft and trembling. He had this way of pushing me to the brink, only to pull back at the last second. His lips wandered down my neck, deliberate and unhurried, leaving heat in their wake. When his fingers skimmed the curve of my collarbone, I felt the weight of it, like I was something fragile, something sacred. There was no rush, no frantic need. Just him, savoring every second, and me, unraveling beneath his touch.

I felt it tightening within me, an unbearable tension that coiled deeper with every passing second. It was relentless, like a spring wound too tight, each movement, each touch pushing me closer to the edge of something I couldn’t name but desperately craved. My breaths turned shallow, my chest rising and falling in uneven rhythm as his hands gripped me with a mix of certainty and care, as if he knew exactly how far he could push me before I unraveled.

It wasn’t just the physicality of it, it was the way he seemed to draw out every fragment of my will, leaving me completely at his mercy. My fingers dug into his shoulders. The tension spiraled tighter, hotter, until it consumed me completely.

A sound escaped me, half gasp, half plea, as my body betrayed any composure I had tried to keep. My back arched, pressing into him as though I could fuse us together. I was trembling in his lap, every nerve in my body alight, shaking with a release so complete it left me raw and vulnerable. I couldn’t stop the ragged breaths that tore through me, couldn’t hold back the way my fingers clung to him, desperate and unsteady. I felt exposed, seen in a way that was both terrifying and exhilarating. And yet, in that moment, I didn’t care. All that mattered was him; his presence, his hands grounding me, and the way he pulled me back from the brink as if I was the only thing he’d ever held.

"Are you okay, darling?" His voice came low and rough, scraped raw with exertion, matching the labored rhythm of his breathing. I barely had the strength to nod, but I did, my limbs heavy and slow as if they were no longer mine. He shifted beneath me, his movements deliberate but unhurried, almost tender. His hands, warm and slightly calloused, slid to my waist, guiding me off him with a care that felt surprising in its quiet gentleness.

And then I saw it, the way his hand replaced me, confident and practiced, fingers curling around himself with an ease that spoke of habit. The tension in his jaw, the subtle twitch in the muscle near his temple, betrayed his focus. It was mesmerizing, almost hypnotic, the way his body moved in response to his own touch. I had never seen anyone so unguarded, so wholly caught in the grip of sensation.

I didn’t mean to stare, but I couldn’t look away. Something about it felt intimate in a way that surpassed words or actions, a glimpse into a vulnerability he didn’t bother to hide. His head tilted back, exposing the sharp line of his throat as his breathing quickened. The muscles in his abdomen tensed and released, his body arching slightly as if chasing something just out of reach.

When it came, the moment he unraveled, it was as though the air itself had been sucked out of the room. His breath hitched, his movements stilled for a heartbeat, and then he shuddered, the tension in him snapping like a coiled wire. He didn’t hide the sound he made, a raw, guttural exhale that felt more honest than anything he’d said tonight.

I watched him crumble, watched the way his chest rose and fell, his hand slackening as the last shreds of control bled away. He lay there, undone, as spent as I was, his eyes closed and his expression unreadable. A strange mix of awe and curiosity curled in my chest, like I’d just witnessed something private, something meant to stay hidden.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The silence wasn’t awkward, but it wasn’t entirely comfortable either. It felt charged, like the room itself hadn’t quite settled. And then his lips quirked, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“You always watch that closely?” he murmured, voice still rough but tinged with something lighter now, something almost teasing.

I blinked, caught off guard, my cheeks warming as I realized how openly I’d been staring. “Only when it’s worth watching,” I shot back, my voice steadier than I felt.

His smile deepened, a flash of teeth now, as though he’d been waiting for exactly that answer.

By the time we’d both showered and cleaned up, the heat between us had softened into something quieter, something that lingered in the space between words. The bathroom had been a quiet exchange of towels and knowing glances, his smirk a little too satisfied, my blush a little too obvious. We didn’t say much, but the unspoken understanding was enough.

Now, we were in the living room, the fire crackling low in the hearth, filling the room with a golden warmth that made the world outside feel a thousand miles away. The snow still whispered against the windows, but it felt less intrusive now, like a soft rhythm playing counterpoint to the calm that had settled over us.

He was already stretched out on the sofa when I joined him, fresh from the shower and wrapped in one of his pullovers. It smelled like him, clean, faintly woody, and grounding in a way I couldn’t quite name. He’d pulled a blanket over himself, leaving just enough space for me to slide in beside him.

“You took your time,” he said, his voice quieter now, softer, as though the stillness of the room demanded it.

I rolled my eyes, settling in beside him, the blanket shifting to cover us both. “Some of us like to be thorough.”

“Mm,” he hummed, wrapping an arm around my shoulders as I leaned into him. His body was warm, solid, and I felt his fingers absently trace circles against my upper arm. It wasn’t intentional, I don’t think, just a natural extension of the closeness between us now.

For a while, neither of us said anything. The fire popped and crackled, and the weight of the day began to pull at me, softening the edges of my thoughts. I felt his chest rise and fall beneath me, steady and rhythmic, like a metronome drawing me closer to sleep.

“You’re being quiet again,” he murmured, his lips close enough to my ear that I felt the words more than heard them.

“Just... tired,” I admitted. “But in a good way.”

“Good,” he said simply, and I felt his hand shift, threading his fingers lightly through mine where they rested against his chest.

It was the kind of moment I’d always thought should feel contrived. But now, with him, it felt effortless. Real. The weight of his arm around me, the heat of his body, the occasional scrape of his stubble against my temple, it all made me feel safe. Like I could let the world fade out entirely and just stay here.

His voice broke through the quiet, low and tinged with a softness I hadn’t heard before. “I like this,” he said.

I tilted my head to look up at him, his face illuminated by the flickering firelight. “What? Me being quiet for once?”

He huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “No. You. Here. With me.”

For a moment, I didn’t know what to say. But then I didn’t need to. I shifted closer, tucking myself more securely against him, my face buried in the crook of his neck.

“I like it too,” I whispered, the words muffled but no less true.

His hand stilled against my arm, resting there like a promise. And as the fire burned low and the storm outside softened into a distant memory, I let my eyes drift shut, lulled by the steady beat of his heart beneath my ear.

a/n: Is it too early to post christmas stuff? Never! I wrote this rather late last night and fell asleep right before the end so if the last bit is quite rushed my sincerest apologies, I also think the start of the smutty part is quite arse because I didn't really know where it was going and then I kind of got into it. Also, I've forgotten if I've mentioned in the fic but Alex is meant to be your father's best friend and I can't remeber if I ever specified, it'd be really odd if I didn't. Anywho, hope you love it, enjoy!!! xxx

#alex turner x reader #alex turner fanfic #alex turner x fem!reader #alex turner x you #arctic monkeys #christmas #smut #black and white #xmas fic #christmas fic #alex turner arctic monkeys #the car era #excuse mistakes

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justallmyfantasies · 2 months ago

Text

out of words

oh god, i’m gonna marry him if he keeps this shit up.

contains: 18+ smut! (unprotected piv, oral (f receiving) kinda praise. prequel to out of breath.)

word count: 4.5k

MINORS DONT INTERACT!

based on this request! (tysm!

time had passed and honestly, the thought of having a ring on your finger had went over your head. it didn’t happen and although you knew one day it would, you just wanted it to happen now and then.

your kitchen was steaming up from the food cooking in front of you. you offered to cook tonight’s dinner, usually on fridays you’d get a takeout or something but this time you wanted to cook. not for any particular reason just because you liked cooking and it was one of your hobbies.. it wasn’t, you just wanted alex to try this new recipe you’d found.

you held the wooden spoon in your hands, slowly moving the food in the frying pan around, making it sizzle each time you pressed down on it.

the kitchen was mostly quiet, save for the sound of the food cooking in front of you and the occasional clanging of pots and pans on the stove. the warm, homely scent filled the air, making the room feel cozy and intimate.

you were so focused on the food you were cooking that you didn't notice alex arrive home from his studio session until he cleared his throat, leaned up against the doorframe.

you jumped slightly in surprise, turning to look at him. "oh, you're home." you said, your heart rate slowly returning to normal. "i thought you'd be at the studio for a bit longer."

he gave you a small smile, pushing off the doorframe and taking a few steps into the kitchen. "yeah, we got done a little earlier than expected." he replied, coming to stand next to you. he looked at the food on the stove, his eyes scanning over it curiously.

"i'm trying out a new recipe." you explained, stirring the food in the pan with the wooden spoon. "i found it online and i thought it looked interesting.. thought i'd give it a try."

he hummed in response, watching you cook for a moment before speaking again. "it smells really good.” he complimented, a note of genuine interest in his voice. "i can't wait to try it."

you felt a small sense of pleasure at his compliment. you enjoyed cooking for him, especially when he seemed to appreciate the effort you put into it. you continued to move the food in the pan, the sizzle and pop of the meat and vegetables filling the silence.

alex leaned against the counter, his arms folded across his chest as he watched you work. he seemed content to just watch you, his eyes following every movement of your hands. the room was filled with a comfortable quiet, the only sounds the bubbling of the food and your own breathing.

you could feel his gaze on you, studying you. it wasn’t in a malicious way, more like he was mentally cataloguing the way you moved and the different expressions that flitted across your face as you concentrated on the task at hand.

after a few minutes, the food was done, and you set the spoon aside and turned off the heat. you plated the food, dividing it equally between two plates and carrying them over to the small dining table that sat in the corner of the kitchen.

alex followed you, pulling out a chair and sitting down at the table. he looked at the food on his plate, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "this looks amazing." he said, picking up his fork.

"i hope it tastes as good as it looks." you responded, sitting down across from him. you felt a flutter of nerves, suddenly nervous about whether or not he would like the dinner you had made.

he took a bite, and you anxiously watched his expression, looking for any hint of enjoyment or disappointment. his eyes widened slightly, and he let out a soft hum of pleasure. "this is really good." he said after he swallowed, looking up at you with a genuine smile.

you let out a small sigh of relief, your shoulders relaxing slightly. "i'm glad you like it." you said, feeling a wave of pride wash over you. you picked up your own fork and took a bite, savoring the flavors as they exploded on your tongue.

the dinner continued in comfortable silence, save for the sounds of forks clinking against the plates. you found yourself stealing glances at alex as he ate, watching the way his mouth moved and the small expressions that flickered across his face.

you both finished eating the food you prepared. you stood up and gathered all the dishes, piling them onto each other to take into the kitchen to clean.

alex looked up at you from where he was sitting at the table, a smile on his face. “you want me to clean up?” his voice was soft.

you shook your head, balancing the plates in your arms. "no, it's fine," you said. "i can handle it. you go ahead and relax, you must be tired after your session."

he stood up anyway, gently taking the plates from your arms. "it's no trouble," he said, heading towards the kitchen. "besides, i don't want you to have to do everything yourself."

you couldn't help but feel a pang of affection at his gesture. it was little things like this, the small acts of consideration, that made you fall in love with him all over again each day. so whilst he did that, you took the clean laundry upstairs to sort out.

you carried the basket of clothes up the stairs, the familiar scent of laundry detergent filling your nose. the upstairs hallway was lit by soft evening light, the shadows stretching across the wooden floor.

you entered your bedroom, setting the laundry down on the bed and sorting through the clothes. you could hear alex moving around in the kitchen downstairs, the sounds of running water and dishes clinking together drifting up from below.

as you folded the clothes into alex’s drawer, you spotted something. a box, like it was for jewellery. you paused for a moment, feeling a pang of curiosity. the box was small and inconspicuous, but something about it made your heart flutter with anticipation. you picked it up, carefully running your fingers over the smooth surface.

you knew you probably shouldn’t look. it was alex’s property, after all, and it was wrong to snoop. but the temptation was too strong. you carefully lifted the lid of the box, peeking inside.

your heart stopped. inside the box was a ring, a beautiful diamond sparkling in the low light of the room. your breath caught in your throat, and you froze, your eyes fixed on the ring in the box.

the ring was a simple but elegant design, the diamond set in a delicate gold band. it was beautiful, and your mind immediately went to the one conclusion any woman’s mind would jump to upon seeing a ring like this.

you felt a flood of emotions wash over you. joy, shock, hope, all swirling together in a chaotic tangle inside your chest. was this what you thought it was? was alex really going to propose?

closing the box, you walked downstairs. stopping in front of alex as he sat on the couch, his expression confused now.

"is everything alright?" he asked, noticing the look on your face. your heart was pounding in your chest as you sat down next to him, the small box hidden safely in your hand.

"is this yours?” you asked, showing him the box.

his eyes widened as he saw the box, recognizing it immediately. surprise and a hint of nervousness flickered across his face. "i.. uh.. i don’t know what that is." he said, his voice suddenly quieter than it had been before.

you didn’t miss the hint of nervousness in his voice, or the way his eyes darted away from yours. it was obvious he was lying, but he was doing a terrible job of covering it up.

you couldn’t help but feel a little amused at his attempt to play dumb. placing the box in your lap, you turned to face him, a small smile playing on your lips. “you’re a terrible liar, you know that?”

he winced at your words, a sheepish expression on his face. "i... i was trying to keep it a surprise." he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

your heart skipped a beat. he was trying to keep it a surprise. that confirmed your suspicions. the ring in the box was meant for you, and he had intended to propose to you.

a sense of giddy excitement filled your chest, and you could feel your heart rate speeding up. you looked down at the box in your lap, then back up at him. "so i take it this ring is for me?" you asked, a note of teasing in your voice.

he let out a nervous laugh, his gaze flickering between the box and your face. "yeah... i was planning on proposing to you.” he said, his voice soft and hesitant. "i had it all planned out.. a nice dinner, a night walk.. but then you found it so.”

you couldn’t help but smile at his explanation. as sweet as it would’ve been to have a elaborate proposal, this was so much more genuine and real. you held up the box, your eyes glittering with unshed tears. "so does this mean you're asking me to marry you?”

he nodded, a nervous but hopeful look in his eyes. "yeah, i am," he said, his voice steady. "i know it's not exactly how i planned, but... yes. i want to marry you. i want to spend the rest of my life with you."

your heart felt like it might burst out of your chest. tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, but you managed to keep them at bay. you placed the box down on the table, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him into a fierce hug.

he wrapped his arms around you, embracing you tightly as if he was afraid you'd disappear if he let go. you could feel the rapid beat of his heart against your chest, his breath warm against your neck.

you held each other for a few moments, enjoying the feel of each other's embrace. finally, you pulled back slightly so that you could look at him, your eyes meeting his. "yes," you said, your voice shaky with emotion. "yes, i will marry you."

his face lit up, a beautiful smile spreading across it. "yeah?" he asked, his eyes searching yours as if he couldn’t quite believe what you’d just said. "you’re serious?"

you nodded, your own smile growing wider to match his. "yes, i'm serious." you said, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. you leaned in closer, kissing him gently.

he pulled you closer, his hands sliding up your back to hold you against him. he deepened the kiss, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips. it was a mixture of tenderness and desperation, the relief and joy at your answer fueling the intense passion between you.

the air around you felt electric, the heat between you both increasing with every passing second. you were both clinging to each other, your fingers grasping at fabric and skin, needing to feel as much of each other as possible.

suddenly, he picked you up and stood up from the couch, wrapping your legs around his waist whilst you giggled. he walked with you in his arms towards the stairs, his lips leaving a trail of kisses down your neck.

the walk up the stairs was a blur, the only thing that mattered was the feeling of his body against yours. he carried you into the bedroom, setting you down on the bed and pinning you beneath him.

he kissed you again, his body covering yours completely. his hands roamed over your skin, leaving a trail of fire wherever they touched. you could feel the hard press of him against you, a subtle yet powerful reminder of how much he wanted you.

he broke the kiss, but his lips didn’t wander far. he moved down towards your neck, kissing and biting gently at the sensitive skin there. you arched into him, your fingers tangling in his hair needingly.

his hands went to the hem of your shirt, pushing it up and over your head. his eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you laid out beneath him. he let his hands wander across your exposed skin, tracing over your curves and dips. it was almost reverent, the way his touch glided over you, as if he was worshipping every inch of your body.

you could feel a shiver of pleasure course through you under his touch. every nerve in your body was on fire, wanting and needy for more of him. you reached up and started unbuttoning his shirt, pulling it off of him and discarding it on the floor.

his skin was hot and smooth under your touch, his body firm and strong. you ran your fingers over his chest and stomach, feeling the ripple of muscles beneath your palms. he shivered at the sensation, his hands coming down to grasp at your hips and pull you closer.

his lips found yours again, the kiss deeper this time, hungrier. he nipped at your lower lip before pulling away, his breath coming in short gasps. "i need you," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. "now."

the urgency in his voice sent a wave of heat through you, pooling low in your stomach. you could feel the same frantic need building inside you, a desperate craving for him that couldn’t be ignored. "then take me," you breathed, your fingers digging into his back.

he didn't need any more encouragement. he hooked his fingers in the waistband of your pants, pulling them down your legs and throwing them aside. his hands slid back up your thighs, his touch setting your skin on fire.

he positioned himself between your legs, his mouth finding your neck again as he began to kiss and suck at the sensitive skin there. his hands roamed over you, caressing and exploring every inch of you. you could feel the hard press of his arousal against you, the heat and need rolling off of him in waves.

you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer and arching into him. his hands went to your hips, holding you in place as he rocked against you, the friction causing a sharp gasp to escape your lips.

his lips left your neck, moving down to your collarbone, then further still to your chest. his tongue traced a line down your sternum, stopping at the valley between your breasts. he looked up at you, the fire in his eyes almost burning with intensity.

you bit your lip as his gaze met yours, feeling even more heat pooling in your core. he moved lower, his lips and hands continuing their exploration of your body. his tongue flicked over your nipple, causing you to gasp and arch into him.

he smiled against your skin, then continued his journey downwards. his mouth traced a trail of kisses down your stomach, his hands moving to spread your thighs wider. you could feel his breath against your skin, the heat and intensity of his gaze making you shiver with anticipation.

he settled himself between your legs, his fingers tracing small circles around your inner thighs, coming teasingly close to where you wanted him most. he looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire. "you're so beautiful." he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

his words sent a ripple of pleasure through you, your body responding instantly to the sound of his voice. you reached down and tangled your fingers in his hair, trying to bring him closer, wanting to feel his touch where you needed it most.

he obliged, his tongue flicking out to taste you. your head fell back against the pillow, your breath catching in your throat at the sensation. he took his time, pleasuring you in slow, languid strokes until you were a quivering mess.

your body was on fire, the pleasure building quickly as he continued to lavish you with attention. your grip on his hair tightened, your hips arching against his mouth, begging without words for more. he hummed against you, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure through you.

his hands moved to your hips, holding you in place as he continued his ministrations. you were teetering on the edge, the pressure inside you building to a point where you were sure you would shatter at any moment.

he could sense how close you were, his pace and pressure increasing until you were whimpering and writhing beneath him, your body desperate for release. he lifted his head slightly, his lips grazing your skin. "look at me." he instructed, his voice deep and commanding.

you forced your eyes open, your vision slightly hazy from the pleasure coursing through you. you met his gaze, the raw hunger and desire you saw there making your heart skip a beat.

he held your gaze as he continued to pleasure you, his eyes locked onto yours. his lips curved into a small smile, as if he was enjoying the effect he was having on you. the intensity and intimacy of the moment was overwhelming, the connection between you stronger than ever.

the heat and tension in your body coiled tighter and tighter, building to a crescendo that you knew would be your undoing. you gripped onto him, your thighs trembling on either side of him as you felt yourself teetering on the brink.

he seemed to sense how close you were, his movements becoming more focused and intense. his grip on your hips tightened, holding you in place as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. "please," you gasped, your voice shaky with need, "i can't take it anymore."

he didn’t let up, his tongue and mouth continuing to work you until you were trembling and breathless. "just let go," he murmured, his voice soft and reassuring. "i’ve got you. i’m here."

his words were like a trigger, pushing you over the edge. your body convulsed, your vision going white as the most intense orgasm of your life ripped through you. your legs clamped around him, your fingers grasping at whatever they could find.

he stayed with you, holding you through the waves of pleasure that rolled over you. he didn’t let go, his hands gently rubbing your hips and thighs as you slowly came back down. his lips brushed against your skin, soft and tender, a stark contrast to the intensity of moments before.

you felt like you were floating, your body and mind blissfully adrift in a sea of pleasure. you could feel his body pressed against yours, his weight a comforting, anchoring presence. you reached down, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him up towards you, needing to feel his body closer to yours.

he was more than happy to oblige, his body covering yours once more as his lips met yours in a gentle, almost chaste kiss. he was still hard against you, the evidence of his own need for release pressing hot and heavy between you.

you felt a pang of guilt at the thought of him being left unsatisfied. you pushed against his shoulders, rolling him over and pinning him to the bed.

he looked at you with surprise and a hint of amusement, his hands coming up to rest on your hips. "what are you doing?" he asked, a lazy grin on his face.

you didn’t answer him, instead trailing kisses down his chest and stomach, your hands roaming over his skin. you were determined to return the favor, to bring him the same pleasure he had just given you.

his breathing grew heavier as you continued your journey downwards, your mouth moving over his abs and down to the sharp angle of his hipbones. you could feel his muscles tensing beneath your touch, the anticipation and arousal rolling off of him in waves.

you unbuckled his belt, fumbling with it as you did so. he reached down and helped you with the belt, his eyes dark as he watched you work the buttons of his pants open. he lifted his hips up, allowing you to pull his pants and underwear down, freeing him from the constraints of the fabric. he was hard and leaking pre-cum, the sight of him enough to make your mouth water. you looked up at him, your lips curving into a sly smile.

he chuckled, his hands moving to grip the sheets tightly as if he was bracing himself. "i want you to ride me.” he said, his voice strained with need. you hummed in agreement, positioning yourself over him. you braced your hands on his chest, lifting up slightly so that you were hovering above him.

he reached down, his hands going to your hips and guiding you down onto him. you both let out a moan as he filled you, the sensation almost overwhelming. you started to move, riding him slowly at first, getting used to the feel of him inside you again. his eyes were glued to you, his hands holding onto your hips as you rode him, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

you could feel the tension in his body, his muscles taut and tense as he fought to hold back his own release, wanting to stay with you as long as possible. he shifted himself up slightly, propping himself up on his elbows so that he could watch you more closely. his eyes roamed all over your body, taking in every detail, every shiver and twitch.

you could feel his gaze on you, and it only served to heighten the pleasure building inside you. you rode him harder, your hands grabbing onto his shoulders.

his fingers dug into the flesh of your hips, his grip almost painful as he struggled to maintain control. the sounds he was making were sinful, the low moans and gasps escaping his lips spurring you on. you could feel the pleasure building inside you, the friction and pressure almost too much.

he cursed under his breath, his head dropping back as the sensations overwhelmed him. "i can't hold on much longer," he panted out, his voice almost a growl.

you didn’t stop, riding him harder and faster, wanting to push him over the edge right along with you. his breathing was coming in harsh, ragged gasps, his body tensing beneath you as he was pushed closer and closer to the edge. he reached up, one hand gripping your hair and pulling you down to him, his lips finding yours in a rough, desperate kiss.

his movements became jerky and erratic, the kiss turning into more of a messy clash of teeth and tongue. you could feel him on the brink, the tension coiling tight inside him.

he pulled away from the kiss, his voice was ragged, "i’m gonna-" he didn't get to finish his sentence, his back arching off the bed as he finally let go, his release washing over him in powerful waves. you felt him shudder beneath you, his body trembling with the force of it as he came undone.

you rode him through it, your own body on the brink of release but not quite there yet. his eyes were closed, his head thrown back as he gasped for breath. he looked beautiful, completely undone by pleasure.

you slowed your movements, letting him come down from his orgasm. but you were still on the edge, your body aching for release. he must have realized this because his eyes fluttered open, meeting yours. his hands moved to your hips, his grip tight. "keep going," he commanded, his voice gruff.

"i want you to come." he said, his eyes locking onto yours, the intensity in them enough to make your toes curl. hearing those words from him was like fuel to the fire already burning inside you. you nodded, a small whimper escaping your lips.

you began to move again, riding him harder and faster. he held onto your hips, guiding your movements. his eyes were dark, his gaze smoldering as he watched you. the muscles in his jawline were tense, his expression one of pure desire.

you could feel yourself on the very edge now, the pleasure so intense it was almost painful. you were whimpering and shaking, your body taut like a bowstring. he could see how close you were and it only seemed to fuel him on. "come for me," he said, his voice little more than a growl.

those words were all you needed. the pleasure exploded inside you, rippling through your body in powerful waves. your back arched, your hands grabbing onto his wrists tightly as you rode out your orgasm. he held onto you, his eyes never leaving your face as he watched you come apart. his grip on your hips was firm, guiding you through the aftershocks until you collapsed on top of him.

both of you were panting and trembling, your bodies slick with sweat. he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace. you buried your face into his chest, your body feeling boneless and sated.

he stroked your hair, his other hand tracing lazy paths up and down your spine. he held you like that for a few moments, both of you basking in the afterglow. "you're incredible," he murmured, his lips brushing against the top of your head.

you hummed in agreement, your eyelids feeling heavy as exhaustion started to set in. you were blissfully relaxed, every muscle in your body feeling like it had melted into his.

he shifted beneath you, rolling over so that he was lying on his side and pulling you along with him. he tucked you close against him, his body molding around yours like it was made to fit.

you were cradled in his embrace, your head resting on his chest. you could hear the steady thump of his heart beneath your ear, the sound soothing and calming. his hand continued to stroke your hair, fingers gentle and soothing.

he was quiet for a moment, just holding you, until he spoke again, his voice a quiet rumble. "i love you," he said, his lips pressing a gentle kiss against the top of your head.

hearing him say those words sent a rush of warmth through your chest, filling you with a sense of contentment. "i love you too." you replied, your voice soft and genuine.

he smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. you snuggled into his chest, feeling warm and safe and utterly at peace.

you both lay like that for a while, content to just be close to each other. his breathing was steady and deep, the rise and fall of his chest lulling you into a sense of security. you could feel the last remnants of arousal ebbing away, replaced by a sense of comfort and closeness.

#justallmyfantasies #alex turner x reader #alex turner #alex turner fic #alex turner fanfic #alex turner x fem!reader #alex turner x you #alex turner smut #prequel???#out of breath #alex turner fluff

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goblinontour · 4 days ago

Text

Mr. And Mrs.

the christmas special

part 12 | series masterlist

warnings: prof!al, age gap (not specified), fluff, sweet angst, sweet fucking, slight breeding kink, he’s so sweet

word count: 15.3k

It’s midday. The kind of winter afternoon that carries a reluctant warmth — softened edges to the cold, the sort that brushes your face, that lingers in liminality — not as bitter as yesterday, but not quite merciful either. The cold doesn’t slice into the small slivers of exposed skin as sharply as it could, as it has before. It’s the kind of cold that reminds you you’re alive. Even so, the air has its bite. You pull your coat tighter, tugging at the scarf knotted loosely at your throat.

The city feels unfamiliar in this corner, like you’ve stumbled into a forgotten painting, smudged and yellowed, a place you’ve walked past in another life but never truly stepped into. It’s quieter here, less bustling, less preened. The buildings around you, though worn, seem watchful. Hunched together, as if conspiring against the passage of time.

You glance to your left, attention snagged by a squat, unassuming structure. Its exterior tells a tale — peeling paint, frost-speckled windows. It’s tucked between other larger, newer ones, looking almost out of place but not quite enough to feel wrong. You pause, narrowing your eyes.

The building is modest. Only the ground floor and one upper storey stacked on top, as though the architect had no more to give. The shop window is smudged, a foggy pane of glass that resists reflection. Beside it, the door is plain, framed in chipped wood. Above it, some faded lettering struggles against the years. The words aren’t meant to be read from this distance. Their strokes are weary, edges blunted by time. But still, you tilt your head, trying to piece them together, wondering what kind of place it might be.

A hat interrupts the view — a man’s, brim low, crown rounded. Standing in the doorway, it shades the lettering just so, as though deliberately concealing what little clarity it might offer. But you imagine the letters are tired, the kind of font that’s seen decades without a care for reinvention.

If you keep walking, you’ll move past it, slipping into the more polished familiarity of the café next door, its entrance angled slightly outward as if inviting you in. Your gaze drifts upward. Beyond that, two wiry trees dusted with frost extend crooked fingers toward a cloudless sky. The light is harsh now, unforgiving in its sharpness. You know it won’t last — it never does. Soon enough, this blue will yield to black, swallowing the city in its winter embrace before you’ve had a chance to notice it fading.

“Oh, that woman gets on my nerves.” The harsh voice of hat-man cracks the brittle quiet. He says it loudly, enough as though the whole street should hear him. And his voice is sharp, cutting across the stillness of the afternoon. His words linger, landing uncomfortably in the air. There’s a woman following him, hurrying to catch up — a quick glance tells you she’s his wife, though the tension between them pulls tight in the space they share. The coat she wears is wrapped tight around her frame, but her expression reveals nothing. Is he talking about her? You can’t tell. A brief pang of sympathy rises, unbidden.

Through the glass, you glimpse someone else — another woman, left behind at the till. She rubs her temples, her shoulders curling inward as though she’s bracing against something. The motion is unmistakable, the gesture of someone wound too tightly. Even through the dusty glass, even with the distance between you, the tension in her body is palpable. You wonder what the man had said to her before stepping outside.

The thought pulls you out of yourself, and you murmur without thinking, “I wanna go in there.”

Your voice breaks the silence between you and him. It catches Alex off guard.

He’s been beside you all this time, his hand searching for yours, his fingers awkward over the thick wool. He tries for a better grip, one that feels intimate even through the layers. He’s been preoccupied, you realise — focused on the way the cold dulls touch, the way the gloves feel like a barrier he can’t quite breach.

He glances toward the building you’ve indicated. “There?” he asks, his voice a soft echo of your own, head tilting ever so slightly as he looks back at you.

You nod, though your own reasoning feels instinctive rather than deliberate. You’re not even sure why, not entirely.

He hesitates, the faintest frown touching his brow. “I’m tired of stores, honey.” he says, his voice a gentle protest but firm enough to suggest he’d rather not. But you know him well enough to catch it. Still, a small opening where you might nudge him.

You don’t hesitate. “We could get something for Penny.” you say, almost casually, though you’ve chosen the words carefully, the name landing like a quiet persuasion. “Maybe your Dad too.”

You don’t look at him as you say it, keeping your eyes on the shop. You don’t need to look to know it’s enough. It’s not just logic. It’s strategy. He wouldn’t say no to his mother. He wouldn’t say no to family. Anything else might risk too much — his own goodness, his tenderness, his pride. He wouldn’t risk looking indifferent, even here, even now.

He exhales, the kind of breath that lingers in the cold. A small puff of surrender. “‘Kay.” he says at last, his voice softened, his resolve melting like the frost on the trees, his glove shifting again against yours as he lets himself be pulled toward the little shop.

The warmth is immediate and clinging. If you had glasses it would have fogged them up. It prickles your cheeks as you adjust. The smell is faint but unmistakable — dust mingled with something floral, faintly artificial, like potpourri that hasn’t been replaced in years. It makes the place feel older, almost stuck in time, though its shelves are crowded with objects trying their best to stay relevant.

Alex removes his hat almost absentmindedly. It’s somewhere between a beanie and one of those with a big pom-pom perched on top, except his has a small, modest poof, like a shy exclamation point. He’s never liked it. Too silly, he’s said, too boyish, not the kind of thing he’d choose on his own. But it keeps him warm, and more importantly, you like it, so he wears it without much protest. Things could be that simple sometimes.

Now hatless, his hair is in disarray, flattened and sticking up in unplanned directions. The strands curl at the ends, not quite long enough to be tamed by his usual attempts to smooth them down. You take in the rest of him — his coat half unbuttoned, revealing a shirt creased from wear, its collar slightly askew. There’s a quiet weariness about him, like someone pulled half out of sleep and still tethered to a dream. He yawns, a wide, unguarded motion that he doesn’t bother to suppress.

The woman at the till greets you with a polite smile, but Alex doesn’t respond. He’s too busy battling with his gloves again, tugging at the fingers like they’re conspiring against him. You glance at him with mock exasperation, leaning close enough to mutter, “Wake up, Alex.”

You weave your way between the shelves, which are tall and narrow, nearly brushing the ceiling. The aisles are tight enough to make the place feel more cramped than cozy, but there’s a comfort in it — something about being surrounded by so many little objects, all waiting to be chosen. You pause in one of the aisles, stopping at a shelf lined with small, decorative pieces. Alex, still yawning, shuffles to a stop beside you.

“These are cute, aren’t they?” you say, lifting one of the ceramic napkin holders into your hand.

He blinks at it, bleary-eyed. “What are-” he pauses for another yawn, turning his head slightly before finishing, “-those?”

“Napkin holders.” you say, inspecting the little ceramic shape. It’s painted with delicate flowers, the kind of design that’s charming at first glance but verges on tacky the longer you look at it. Alex barely glances at it. “Put your hand over your mouth.” you chide when he yawns again, and his lips twitch into a faint smile.

“Yes, yes.” he says, covering his mouth too late. “Shouldn’t be allowed. It’s dangerous.” His voice is teasing, but there’s a drowsy edge to it that takes the sharpness away. He smiles at you, the kind of smile he knows softens you even when you don’t want it to.

It almost works. Almost.

“I hadn’t realized…they are cute.” he says after a beat, his tone half-distracted. He yawns again, quickly covering his mouth this time. “Sorry, baby.”

“You’re dreaming.” you tell him, shifting the napkin holder in your hand.

He shakes his head lightly, a touch defiant. “But I’m wide awake.” He reaches for the ceramic piece, finally managing to grip something with his now-gloveless hands. His fingers brush against yours as he takes it, warm and sure.

You glance at him, eyebrow raised. “You know, awake or asleep, it’s the same thing with you.”

“Oh really?” He tilts his head, feigning thoughtfulness, and then smirks. “I was going to say I only think of you naked when I’m awake, but that’s not-”

“Alex!” you hiss, slapping his shoulder lightly.

The layers of your coats and sweaters make the gesture more symbolic than anything else, the force dulled to almost nothing. He grins, unrepentant, the mischief in his eyes breaking through his weariness for a moment.

“That’s not the point.” you say, trying to sound stern, though the corner of your mouth twitches dangerously close to a smile.

“But you just said…” He trails off, his grin widening. “I’m really tired. ‘S your fault I can’t think.” He wiggles his eyebrows in a way that’s so absurdly him it breaks your resolve.

Okay, maybe it is your fault, but you were up all night too and you’re fine, aren’t you?

“You didn’t understand, Mr. Turner.” you say, trying to recover the thread of your thought. “There’s no difference between dreaming awake and dreaming asleep.”

He steps closer, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you gently back against him. His other hand, still holding the napkin holder, hangs loosely at his side. The ceramic piece suddenly feels laughably insignificant.

“I do dream.” he says softly, his voice brushing your ear. “Life’s a dream.” He pauses, just long enough to make you roll your eyes at his dramatics.

Then, quieter, closer: “Mrs. Turner.”

Your chest tightens, a warmth spreading from where his hands rest on your front. You smile despite yourself, though you try to hide it. You melt against him, though you tell yourself you shouldn’t.

Yes, you should. Yes, you do.

“If you think you’re being witty, you’re very much mistaken.” you tell him, voice clipped but with an edge that betrays you’re not entirely serious.

He doesn’t respond, just smirks in that half-sleepy, half-mischievous way that always seems to unnerve and amuse you all at once. You decide not to let him win this one, so you spin out of his grip in what you imagine might look like a graceful move. For a moment, it almost is — your coat flaring softly behind you, your movement fluid. Almost.

Then your shoulder catches the opposite shelf, halting your momentum with an awkward thud. Nothing falls, but the wobble of a few precariously placed trinkets makes you freeze. He raises a single brow, biting back what you’re sure would be a smug comment.

You ignore him, your gaze dropping to the cluttered shelf in front of you. A piece of decor — a ceramic plate painted with tiny, intricate flowers — catches your attention. You reach for it without thinking. His mother would like this, wouldn’t she? Something delicate and quiet, the kind of thing she’d know exactly where to place in her home.

Behind you, Alex whispers, his voice low and teasing. “You’re just being a bore…with-” He pauses, clearly searching for the word, “-with your stupid paradoxes.”

You glance over your shoulder, unimpressed. “We need to get them a gift.” you say, holding up the plate for him to see before putting it back down. “You’re incapable of talking seriously.”

Your look is pointed enough to make him stop in his tracks. For a brief moment, you imagine that if he had a tail, it would be tucked stiffly between his legs, shameful but still stubborn.

“Today, yes.” he concedes, though his voice is quiet, almost petulant. “Only today. Because of…because…” His words falter. You can practically see the gears in his head turning, trying to come up with something clever — or at least something that won’t offend you.

“Because what?” you challenge, tilting your head, already knowing he doesn’t have an answer.

His mouth opens slightly, then closes again. Finally, he gives up with a shrug, his hands rising in mock surrender.

“Today’s the same as any day.” you say, filling the silence as you reach for another object. This time, it’s a pair of little statues — matching figures that look vaguely like gnomes, though their features are less defined. You’re not entirely sure what they’re meant to represent. They’re oddly charming.

Alex leans in over your shoulder to inspect them, his breath warm against your cheek. He scoffs softly. You don’t need to look at him to know he’s raising that brow again.

You sigh and place the statues back on the shelf.

“Not quite as much.” he says, his tone faintly smug.

“Your witticisms are not very inspired.” you reply, your voice dry as you finally turn to face him.

“Neither are the gnomes.” he says, pointing at the shelf.

“They’re not gnomes.” you argue, folding your arms.

“They’re gnome-adjacent.” he counters, stepping closer with a slight smirk.

“Alex.”

“Alright, alright.” he says, holding his hands up as though to defend himself from the rising tension. Then he yawns again, and you narrow your eyes at him.

“I can’t believe you’re this tired.” you say. “It’s not even three o’clock.”

“I’m not tired.” he insists, though the yawn he tries to stifle completely betrays him. He rubs the back of his neck, feigning thoughtfulness. “I’m just…thinking at a slower pace.”

You roll your eyes, pulling another small object from the shelf — a delicate, hand-painted ornament shaped like a bird. It feels light in your palm, fragile. You hold it up for him to see.

“Thoughts?” you ask.

He studies it for a second, then shrugs. “It’s alright.”

“‘Alright’ doesn’t cut it. This is for your mother.”

He smirks, leaning against the shelf behind him. “It’s nice. Lovely, even. You’re the expert.”

“You’re insufferable.” you mutter, turning the ornament over in your hands.

“And yet here we are.” he replies, stepping closer again. “I’ll stop being insufferable if you agree to get coffee after this.”

“Who said I’d get coffee with you?”

He feigns a look of deep hurt, clutching his chest dramatically. “You wound me, Mrs. Turner.”

“I can’t believe you think that still works.” you say, shaking your head.

“It does work.” he says, leaning in close enough that you can feel the warmth of him despite the layers between you. “Because you still get that little smile when I say it. Like you’re trying not to, but you can’t help it.”

“Alex-”

“Mrs. Turner.” he interrupts, whispering it softly, the words brushing the air between you.

You turn away quickly, trying to focus on the shelf, but he’s already grinning. He’s watching you, half-lidded eyes following the way your hand moves.

“I don’t like you making fun of me.”

Your voice cuts through the still air of the shop, sharper than you intended. Alex straightens slightly, his hat dangling loosely from one hand as he shifts his weight. He blinks at you, his brows knitting together in brief confusion. He wasn’t making fun of you — not really. At least, not intentionally. Not in the way you’re accusing him of. But your words land heavy anyway, like you’re testing some unseen boundary neither of you had anticipated crossing.

You don’t know where the attitude is coming from. Maybe it’s the weight of the day, the pressure of finding the right gifts, or even something as intangible as the light in this place — the way it presses in, dim and dusty, making everything feel a little off-kilter. Maybe some restless ghost buried in the walls of the shop has taken hold of you, whispering mischief into your ear. That’s less likely than the truth: you’re annoyed. His slight disinterest has pricked at you, and lashing out feels easier than confronting it.

Still, there’s a part of you that winces internally at your own sharpness. You know he doesn’t deserve it. But isn’t it better to be a little bit of a bitch, to feel like you’ve regained some ground, than to sit in the uneasy space of his half-suppressed yawns and detached commentary?

He feels a pang of guilt at the sharpness in your tone, even if he’s not entirely sure where it’s coming from.

“Making fun of you?” he echoes, his voice soft but edged with confusion. His hat — still clutched in one hand — drops briefly to his side before he presses it over his heart like some overblown poet, as though swearing allegiance. “But my dear,” he says, adopting a tone of mock sincerity, “I would never allow myself to-”

“You are allowing yourself,” you interrupt, cutting through his theatrics.

You spin around to face him, blinking. The light catches on the edge of your profile, illuminating the faintest frown pulling at your lips. He tilts his head slightly, studying you. His lips quirk slightly, not quite into a smile but close. He takes a step closer, moving out of the narrow aisle and into the small open space where the shelves converge. You follow without thinking. The objects around you seem to blur into a backdrop of muted colors and textures. All of it feels insignificant.

“Are we fighting?” he asks after a moment, his tone laced with quiet amusement rather than concern. He’s still looking at you with that half-drowsy expression that’s been driving you mad since you walked in here.

Something about the question — about the way he doesn’t take it seriously — makes your annoyance flare. It’s not that you want to fight him — God, no — but what if you did? What if you wanted to dig into the frustration and let it bloom into something loud and messy? Would he let you, or would he keep being this unbearably kind, unshakably soft version of himself? The idea that he’d brush you off so easily feels…infuriating.

“Ugh.” you mutter, turning sharply back to the shelf. The trinkets clink faintly as your movements disturb them.

“We are.” he concludes.

“Yes.” you say, exasperated.

He watches the tension in your shoulders for a beat, trying to determine how serious you are. Then he nods, his lips pressing together in mock solemnity. Finally.

“You’ll win.” he says, with a soft sigh.

Your head whips around, your eyes narrowing. “Why?”

“Because I’ll let you.” he replies simply, his voice so earnest it disarms you, so matter-of-fact it almost feels like an insult.

“Alex!”

“What?” he asks, his confusion genuine now. He blinks down at you like he truly doesn’t understand what he’s done wrong. His free hand brushes against your arm lightly, a hesitant touch meant to gauge whether he’s misstepped or if you’ll let him back in.

“You can’t just let me win.” you say, your voice tight but not as sharp as before.

“Why not?” His tone is calm, but there’s a faint edge of stubbornness creeping into it now. He’s tired — of this argument, of this shop, of the layers of cold and warmth and expectation piled onto the day. He rubs the back of his neck with the hand still clutching his hat, his hair ruffling slightly in the process.

“Because…” you start, but the words stall in your throat. Because what? You’re not even sure anymore. It’s something about how effortless he makes everything seem, about the way he sidesteps conflict with that easy charm of his, leaving you spinning your wheels. “Because!” you insist.

He sighs, his breath warming the air between you. He looks at you for a long moment, his eyes scanning your face with a tenderness that catches you off guard. When he speaks again, his voice is quieter, steadier.

“But I love you.” he says, the words simple and unadorned, like a fact of nature. He leans in and presses a warm, fleeting kiss to your cheek.

The action jolts you out of your frustration. You refuse to let him see it. Still, his words linger, as warm as his touch.

He knows he’s broken through.

You want to stay annoyed. You want to hold onto the spark that made you lash out in the first place. But he makes it impossible. The fight — the one you weren’t even sure you wanted — deflates before it can properly take shape, leaving you standing there, your cheek still tingling from the press of his lips.

“You’re mad.” he says after a beat, his voice quiet. “Aren’t you?”

You glance at him. “Not mad.” you murmur.

“Annoyed?”

You nod, barely.

“Because of me?”

You turn your head, fixing him with a look that answers the question for him.

“Right.” he says, a faint, sheepish smile tugging at his lips.

You huff and step away, placing some bird ornament you didn’t even know when you picked up back on the shelf. With more care than you’d like to admit. Your fingers drift to another object. Alex watches the way you move, your hands, noting the deliberate precision in the way you touch. He steps closer, close enough that his chest almost brushes your back.

“I wasn’t making fun of you.” he says softly. “Not in the way you think.”

You don’t respond right away, but your shoulders relax ever so slightly.

“I mean it.” he continues, his hand brushing against yours as he reaches for the snow globe. His fingers close around it, and for a moment, the two of you are holding it together. “You know that, don’t you?”

“I don’t know.”

Alex lets the snow globe go, his hand moving to cover yours instead.

“Well,” he says, “let me prove it to you.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real heat in the gesture. All you can focus on now is the way his lips feel against yours when he turns you around and kisses you, steady and sure, and the smile that bleeds into it.

“Don’t think this means I’m not still mad at you.”

“Of course.” he replies, straightening slightly but keeping his hand at your waist. “I wouldn’t dream of assuming otherwise.”

“You’re annoying.”

“Mhm…” he hums, “you’ll keep me around.”

“You’re lucky I will.” you say finally.

“Every day, my love.” he replies softly. This time there’s no teasing. Only truth.

It wasn’t surprising to you when Alex confessed that he missed the old car. He could be nostalgic like that, his attachment to certain things running deep in ways that both charmed and baffled you. What was surprising was seeing him pull up one day with it, looking entirely too pleased with himself as if he’d just pulled off the heist of the century.

“Hadn’t you sold it?” you’d asked, staring at the weathered thing parked in front of your home, its once-shiny paint still dulled with age.

He hadn’t, of course. It turned out he’d loaned it to a friend who’d been keeping it in a garage somewhere outside of the city. So now you are stuck with it — this clunky, rust-speckled piece of nostalgia — for the long drive up north.

It’s three minutes past nine when you climb into the passenger seat, arms full: handbag, gift bag, another gift bag, your notebook, pencils, and a pencil sharpener balanced precariously on top. The car smells faintly of leather, aged and worn, mingling with the sharper scent of something metallic and slightly sweet — old oil, maybe.

Alex loads the rest of the bags into the back. When he settles into the driver’s seat, his hat already pushed back on his head, he looks determined. Like he’s ready to tackle the road ahead, even if the odds aren’t in his favor.

A couple of minutes later, he starts driving. If you’re lucky — and that’s a big if — you’ll reach your destination a little after noon. That’s assuming you were in a car that could go at a decent mileage per hour and that traffic wasn’t so bad.

Traffic, of course, is terrible.

Even on a Monday morning, the main road is backed up in both directions. Brake lights stretch endlessly ahead of you, a sea of red blinking intermittently in the pale winter sunlight. Alex sighs, a heavy sound that you feel more than hear.

You settle in with your notebook open across your lap, pencil poised in your hand. The low scratch of lead against paper fills the car, soft and rhythmic, but Alex’s attention keeps drifting toward you.

After the third exaggerated sigh, you glance at him. He’s gripping the wheel loosely, one hand resting at the top, the other on his thigh, but his knee is bouncing restlessly. The movement makes your nerves jittery, though you try not to show it.

“Alex.”

He doesn’t answer, his gaze fixed on the endless line of cars ahead, his jaw tight.

Okay, Mr. Wants Attention. He won’t say it outright, won’t just ask for what he wants. Instead, he’ll make you pull it out of him. Another sigh, this one louder than the last, escapes his lips. It’s dramatic enough that you could swear you hear a hint of theatrics in it, like he’s in a play where his only role is the long-suffering driver.

His knee bounces faster, the leather of the seat squeaking faintly under the motion. His hand shifts on the wheel, gripping and releasing, a quiet little fidget that says more than he would if he actually spoke. You can practically feel him daring you to ask what’s wrong, though you know the answer already.

You sigh yourself now, closing the notebook with a quiet thud. You try to shove it into the dash compartment, but it doesn’t fit. The latch won’t click shut, and after a few futile attempts, you resign yourself to leaving it on your knees. You reach for the radio, fiddling with the dial, flicking through station after station until static fills the car. It’s a distraction, something to do with your hands while the car inches forward. But Alex sighs again, louder this time, and his knee keeps bouncing.

“Leave it.” he mutters.

You stop, your hand hovering over the dial. The silence feels heavier now, filled only by the occasional hum of an engine revving somewhere behind you and the faint creak of the car as it shifts with each stop-and-go motion.

“Fine.” you mutter under your breath. “Would you like me to entertain you, darling?” you ask, your tone just dry enough to make your point.

His eyes flicker to you for the briefest second before returning to the road, but the corner of his mouth twitches. He’s holding back a smile as far as you can tell. “Didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.” you mutter, rolling your eyes but leaning just a little closer to him anyway. “Honestly, Alex, if you wanted me to pay attention to you, all you had to do was ask.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You let out a laugh, low and quiet. “Sure, Mr. Subtle.”

Alex leans forward slightly, craning his neck to try and see around the cars in front of him. His fingers drum against the steering wheel, impatience palpable. He mutters something under his breath — something sharp, likely not meant for your ears.

“It’s Monday.” he says finally, his voice tinged with exasperation. “Where are all these people coming from? Jesus.”

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye. His knee is still bouncing, and his fingers are tapping out an erratic rhythm now, too. The smell inside the car shifts. The faintly nostalgic scent of old leather is overtaken by the sharper, more acrid smell of exhaust wafting in from outside. You crack your window slightly, but the cold air doesn’t help much.

Alex keeps glancing toward the side of the road, as if expecting to see some miraculous shortcut that everyone else has somehow missed. His mind is likely running through every backroad, every alternate route, every possible way to shave even five minutes off this crawl of a journey. But nothing presents itself, and he lets out another quiet sigh.

“You’re quiet.” he says suddenly, his voice cutting through the silence.

You shrug, shifting in your seat. “Not much to say.”

He hums in response.

“You’re quiet, too.” you add after a moment.

He glances at you then, a flicker of amusement softening the hard line of his mouth. “Am I?”

“Yes. It’s unnerving.”

He smiles faintly, his fingers stopping their drumming as he leans back into his seat. “I’m just thinking.”

“About?”

“About how I probably should’ve left this car where it was.” he admits.

You laugh softly, and for a moment, the tension in the car eases.

“I didn’t want to say it.” you tease, leaning your head back against the seat.

“You didn’t have to.” he replies, his voice warm now. “You’re good at saying things without saying them.”

The traffic inches forward again, and the moment is interrupted by the blaring of a horn somewhere behind you. Alex sighs heavily, his knee bouncing once more.

You reach over, your hand brushing lightly over his thigh. “Relax.” you say softly.

He glances at you, his expression softening as he exhales slowly. “I’m trying.”

“Try harder.” you reply, a small smile tugging at your lips.

He laughs, and the sound feels like a small victory — something to hold onto as the road stretches endlessly ahead.

Alex shifts in his seat, one hand gripping the wheel, the other resting loosely on the gear shift. He glances at you again, his lips quirking into a half-smile. The weight of your hand on his thigh — too high to be innocent — lingers in his mind, and you can tell he’s doing his best to maintain composure.

“Help me out ‘ere.”

Your eyebrows arch as if to say what exactly do you mean by that?

His eyes flick to yours briefly before returning to the road. He knows you too well. “Don’t even.” he mutters, though the faint flush creeping up his neck gives him away.

“Don’t even what?” you ask, voice dripping with sweetness.

Neither of you speaks for a beat, both locked in a silent test of wills. You’re daring him to elaborate, he’s daring you to act.

“We’re not that predictable.” he finally says.

“We’re not.” you agree, your hand still on his thigh, fingers curling ever so slightly.

“We’re not.” he repeats, but his voice is strained now, the words lacking conviction.

Your hand gives a deliberate squeeze, and his jaw tightens. His free hand comes up to rub over his face, exasperation both real and performative, all the same. “Oh, fuck…” he mutters under his breath as the car jerks to another stop in the seemingly endless traffic.

“Hmm?” you prompt, your tone as sweet as syrup.

“I forgot to shave.” he says, shaking his head slightly, as if that were the biggest concern right now.

“I like you rugged looking.” Your fingers press into the soft fat of his inner thigh just enough to make his breath hitch.

“My mother doesn’t.” he mutters, attempting to steer the conversation back to neutral ground. The car lurches forward a few feet. “Since…”

“Since?” you ask, leaning into him slightly, your eyes glittering with curiosity.

“Well…” He pauses, scratching his jawline. “Since I had my phase.”

You laugh. “Oh, right, the phase.” He chuckles along, but his smile falters when you add, “You still look good, though.”

The compliment softens him. His gaze flickers to yours for a moment, his smile returning, small and genuine. “Thank you, darling.” he says.

The traffic crawls on, and the silence between you becomes less charged, more companionable. He nods toward your notebook, still perched on your knees.

“How’s the book coming along?”

You groan, leaning your head back against the seat. “Alex, it’s not- it’s just a bunch of made-up nonsense…a lot of it, actually.”

“That’s usually what you call fiction.” he replies.

“It’s not the same.” you argue.

He laughs softly. “It’s in the paper, in black and white, you can’t deny that.” With the air of someone deeply offended, you huff out a dismissive pfff! “It’s all there.” he says again, stretching his arm to tap his fingers on the notebook’s hardcover.

You snap it shut as if it wasn’t already and tuck it under your arm, already anticipating his next question.

“Are you gonna let me read it?” he asks, his voice curious but not pushy. Yet.

Your hand leaves his thigh, and instead, you dig through your bag, pulling out a compact. You flip the car’s sun visor down and open the mirror, focusing intently on your reflection.

“Babe.” he says, trying again.

You ignore him, pretending to adjust your hair.

“You read my stuff all the time.” he points out, his tone edging toward plaintive.

You snap the compact shut with a decisive click, the sound sharp in the confined space. “I do not.” you say.

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Is it about me?” he interrupts, and you immediately slam the visor back up with more force than necessary. The sharp sound makes him wince slightly, and he raises a hand in mock surrender.

“Babe, c’mon.” he says, his voice gentler now, but you’ve already decided the conversation is over.

“Do you think Sock will miss us?” you ask abruptly, your tone casual but clearly a diversion.

He chuckles, shaking his head at your transparent attempt to change the subject. “Yeah, but he’s fine with Jules.”

Julia — or Jules, as Alex affectionately calls her — is the sweet elderly neighbor you’ve reluctantly grown to trust with your beloved cat. You’re still not entirely used to this whole “neighbor” thing, despite how long it’s been since you moved in with Alex.

“I hope so.” you murmur, glancing out the window at the sluggish traffic.

“He’s our little boy.” Alex teases, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“He is.” you agree, your voice softening as you think of those big, curious eyes and the way he always seems to know when you need comfort.

Alex reaches over, resting his hand lightly on your knee. “He’ll be fine, love. Jules spoils him rotten.”

“I know.” you say, placing your hand over his. “I just miss him already.”

Alex squeezes your knee gently. “I miss him, too.”

The car inches forward again, and Alex’s knee stops bouncing. “Maybe we’ll make it there before dark.” he laughs.

“Maybe.” you reply, your fingers brushing against his as the traffic finally begins to ease.

Just enough to lull you into a false sense of progress for a little while, the slow hum of the engine blending with the strains of a half-decent song on the radio. But the reprieve wasn’t enough to distract you.

Boredom set in like a slow burn, your fingers tapping, your eyes darting to Alex as his hands gripped the steering wheel. He hadn’t noticed your shift in mood yet.

But then, of course, you had to push it. You always did.

It didn’t take much. A touch on his arm that lingered too long. The slow slide of your hand to his thigh. His reaction was immediate: a quick intake of breath, the slightest flex of his fingers on the wheel.

“Don’t.” he warned, though his voice lacked conviction.

“You’re telling me no?” you asked, incredulous.

“I didn’t say that.” he muttered, already losing the battle.

He wouldn’t say no. Who would?

What followed was short and sweet, the kind of indulgence you’d both blame on the traffic and the old car with its expansive, accommodating seats that left you just enough space for your business.

You really were that predictable.

Now, you are wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, leaning against the passenger door as Alex sits up straighter, wrestling with his jeans. His zipper, much like the rest of the car, was stubborn and unreliable, catching on the fabric and refusing to cooperate.

“Jesus Christ.” he muttered under his breath, fumbling with the metal teeth. A well known personal vendetta of impatience

“Need help?” you tease, your voice light but still tinged with satisfaction.

He shoots you a look — equal parts exasperated and amused. “I think you’ve done enough, don’t you?”

You shrug, a grin tugging at your lips as you watch him finally win the battle against his zipper. His shirt is untucked now, rumpled in a way that would betray you both if anyone looked too closely. Not that anyone would.

Alex leans back against the seat, running a hand through his hair, which now had the telltale signs of your handiwork. He lets out a long sigh, shaking his head as if to scold himself.

“You’re trouble.” he says, keeping his eyes on the road and his grip tight. On both the steering wheel and himself.

“I’m your trouble.”

He turns his head to look at you, his lips curving into a small, lopsided smile. “That you are. Do I look okay?”

“You look fine.” you say, smirking. “Rugged. Like I said.”

He laughs softly, shaking his head again. “Rugged isn’t exactly what I was going for.”

“Well, you should have thought about that before letting me-”

“Letting you?” he interrupted. “Letting you? As if I had a choice?”

“You always have a choice.” you said, reaching over to smooth down the collar of his shirt. Your fingers lingered on his neck.

“Not with you.” Alex sighs. “You know, we’re never going to make it if you keep distracting me.”

“Who says I’m the distraction?” you counter, leaning back in your seat, satisfied.

He gives you another sidelong glance, his eyes warm despite the faint accusation. “I love you.” he says. Simple and unadorned.

Predictable or not, there is no place you’d rather be.

The dining room smelled like rosemary and roasted potatoes, a soft warmth radiating from the old brick fireplace that had been lit for the evening. The walls were lined with framed photos, decades of family history encased in polished wood, their stories lingering like ghosts in the air. Dinner had been as pleasant as you’d hoped: his mother doting on Alex with casual reminders about portion sizes, his father making quiet but pointed observations about the state of the world. It was comfortable, even cozy, in the way only a family home could be.

And then, of course, the gnome ornament had stolen the show.

“I just love it.” his mother had gushed, cradling the little ceramic figure in her hands like it was something truly precious. She had no idea that, yes, Alex had doubled back to buy it behind your back, no clue that it had been a small rebellion against your mutual skepticism about it. But as she beamed at the tiny, vaguely odd-looking figure, you caught Alex’s eye. His smirk was almost imperceptible, but it was there. And yes, it made you love him that much more.

Dinner continued in easy conversation — stories of neighbors, updates on distant cousins, the kind of talk that didn’t require much effort. But the peace was short-lived.

“Well,” his mother begins, “when are you gonna give us a grandbaby, Alex?”

The room seems to shift. It’s not a heavy silence, but it is enough to make you set your fork down a little too carefully, the scrape of metal against porcelain louder than it should have been. Alex pauses mid-chew, his eyes darting to you, then back to his mother.

Your heart thuds in your chest. You haven’t exactly avoided this topic with Alex, but you haven’t fully dived into it either. It was one of those nebulous, someday things, a distant idea floating somewhere on the horizon. And now, it is here, smack in the middle of roast lamb and green beans.

It’s not that he doesn’t want kids — does he? He’s told you he does. Maybe. Always in those quiet moments where the future feels far away and safe to talk about. But Alex, for all his charm and wit, is a man who lives in the present. Planning for something so big, so permanent, feels like asking him to stand on the edge of a cliff and look down. He’d rather keep his feet firmly on the ground.

And you? You’re not sure. You’re not even sure what your hesitation is. Maybe it’s the fear of being seen as just a role — mother, wife, a fixture in someone else’s life. Maybe it’s the quiet terror that you’d somehow fail at it, that you’d be the one who didn’t measure up.

“Uh,” he starts, his voice stalling as he swallows too quickly. He coughs lightly, reaches for his water, and takes a long sip. “That’s…a big question, Mum.”

His father chuckles softly, leaning back in his chair. “It’s not a big question. It’s a fair one.”

“Fair?” Alex raises an eyebrow, a small, nervous laugh escaping him. He’s still stalling, still trying to buy time.

“Well, it’s been what? Two years now?” his mother presses, her gaze shifting between the two of you. Her smile is warm but expectant, like she’d already imagined herself knitting tiny hats and booties.

A spotlight you hadn’t asked for but couldn’t avoid. Two years. The number hangs in the air like it means something, like there’s a timeline for this sort of thing, a deadline you’ve been blissfully ignoring. You glance at Alex. He looks calm on the surface, but you know better. The laugh was a tell. The way his fingers tightened slightly on yours under the table was another.

You knew this touch well — his silent I’m recharging, as you two called it. It was a phrase born out of a joke, something lighthearted he’d said once, but over time it had grown into something more. You were his personal power bank, he liked to say. It sounded cute, and sometimes it was. But other times, it felt like he was pulling something from you without meaning to, like he was draining a piece of you to refill himself.

You did the same to him, though. You didn’t have a name for it, but you knew he could tell when you were especially wound up. He’d pointed it out once, gently, that you tended to cling more, hang onto him like a lifeline when the world felt too much. You hadn’t even realised you did it until he said it.

“I know when you’re extra stressed, my love.” he’d said. “You hang on me more.”

“And you don’t mind?” you’d asked, hesitant, a little guilty.

“‘Course not.” he’d replied, wrapping his arms around you in a way that made you feel like you could finally exhale. And you did. That sigh — your signal of release — was always his cue to let go.

Now, under the table, as his thumb traces lazy circles over your knuckles, you feel the familiar tug of him recharging. You give him a small squeeze in return, your way of saying, It’s okay. I’m here.

He wants to say the right thing, but the right thing isn’t clear.

“We’ve, uh…we’ve talked about it.” he says finally, his voice careful. “Haven’t we, love?”

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden toss of the conversational ball into your court. “Uh, yeah.” forcing a smile. “We’ve talked about it.”

His mother’s smile widens, her hands clasping together, kind eyes filled with a hope that borders on entitlement. “And?” She’s lovely, truly. But this? This isn’t about her, or the tiny hats she’s already knitting in her mind.

“And…” Alex says, dragging the word out as he rubs the back of his neck. “It’s not exactly…it’s not in the cards right now.”

“Not in the cards?” his father repeats, his tone carrying just the slightest edge of disapproval.

“Mum, Dad, come on.” Alex says, his voice softening into that almost-whining tone he uses when he wants to placate someone — you would know. “It’s not like we’re saying never. Just not…now.”

“Why not now?” his mother asks, her brows furrowing. “You’ve got a lovely home, you’re both doing well. What’s stopping you?”

The question reeks in the air heavier than the smell of roasted garlic. Alex shifts in his chair, the scrape of wood against the floor breaking the silence. “It’s not exactly that simple.” carefully measured.

Not that simple. You almost laugh. You can see her knitting needles faltering in her imaginary hands, her perfectly stitched plans unraveling at the edges. Alex isn’t trying to disappoint her, but he doesn’t know how to explain it. That this thing, this life you’ve built together, is enough for now. That it doesn’t need to be expanded or multiplied to be complete.

“We just…have other things we want to do first.” you finally join, steady, stern, but not unkind by any means. “It’s not that we don’t want to, but we’re happy where we are right now.”

You lean back slightly, studying him for a moment. He looks good tonight, sharp but soft around the edges, like he belongs here and nowhere else. It’s always strange seeing him in this context, under the warm, homey lights of his childhood dining room. Here, where he’s both Alex, the man you love, and their Alex, the boy they raised.

His mother doesn’t know the half of it. She doesn’t know how much of himself he pours into you, how he loves with a quiet ferocity that sometimes leaves you breathless. She doesn’t know how many nights you’ve stayed awake, piecing him back together while holding yourself together, steady and unshaking, because if you didn’t, who else would? Who else would be there to fix him, to gather up the fragments he doesn’t even realise he’s lost? She doesn’t know how it feels to bear the weight of him, his fears, his insecurities, his dreams, all of it laid bare in the space between midnight and dawn, whispered in a voice so soft it’s almost not there.

She doesn’t know how he clings to you in those moments, like you’re the only thing tethering him to the ground, the only thing keeping him from coming undone. She doesn’t know about the times he’s buried his face in your lap, too exhausted to speak, and how you’ve run your fingers through his hair, murmuring assurances you weren’t entirely sure you believed yourself. She doesn’t know how you’ve felt yourself bending under the strain, a fine line between breaking and holding, praying silently that you’d stay strong just long enough to make it better for him.

She doesn’t know the words he whispers to you in the dark — words so raw, so vulnerable, that they slice through you in ways you can’t describe. Words that make you wonder if you’re strong enough to hold all of him, if there’s a part of him too wild, too broken, too much for you to bear. But you do bear it, because it’s him. Because when he leans into you, pressing his forehead to yours with a sigh that seems to come from somewhere deep inside, it’s like he’s giving you a piece of his soul, trusting you with it in a way he’s never trusted anyone else.

And she doesn’t know that even with all of that — his weight, his words, his breaking and rebuilding — you’d still choose him. Every time. Even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard. Because no one else could hold him like you do. And no one else could ever be enough for you.

But you do. And maybe that’s enough. For now.

Alex shoots you a grateful look, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. His thumb strokes over the back of your hand, and your world narrows to just that small, steady motion of silent reassurance, a thank you, a reminder.

His mother sighs, the sound cutting softly through the fragile quiet. Her disappointment is carefully masked, an undercurrent of longing she can’t quite hide. “Well,” she says, “I suppose I can wait a little longer.”

“Thank you, Mum.” Alex lets out a short laugh, a gentle nudge to let the topic drop. “Plenty of time.”

His father grunts something under his breath along the lines of “As long as you’re not waiting forever.”

The conversation shifts after all of that, moving on to safer topics like the weather and plans for the holidays. But there's a faint echo of it that refuses to fully fade.

Later, as you and Alex stand in the kitchen doing the dishes, the quiet hum of the house settles over you both. He nudges your shoulder with his, subtle but obviously intentional.

“You alright?” His voice was low, careful, like the words are something fragile he’s handing to you.

“Yeah.” you murmur, rinsing a plate. “You?”

A pause. You can feel his eyes on you, even if you didn’t meet them. He’s drying a glass, moving the towel over it with slow precision, as if it’s the only thing left to make sense. “I didn’t mean to throw you under the bus back there.”

“I know.”

You place the plate on the rack, and his hand comes to rest on your lower back. His touch always felt like a question, unspoken but clear. This one is softer, quieter, but it asks for the same thing it always does — trust.

You don’t lean into him immediately. The silence between you isn’t empty — it’s full of him, full of the things he wouldn’t say. Things he didn’t need to. His hand stays on your back, patient, steady. He’s not trying to pull anything from you this time, not the way he sometimes did without realising. This isn’t that. This is him letting the moment be.

When you finally lean into him, it isn’t for his sake but yours. You feel his exhale, a soft shift of air against your temple as he turns his head slightly.

“I don’t mind it.” you whisper. “When they ask. I don’t. Not really.”

His hand moves, tracing the smallest arc along your spine. He doesn’t speak. You feel the words there anyway, between the press of his fingers and the warmth of his palm. He never needed to explain himself to you — not about the questions, not about the answers he wasn’t ready to give.

You turn your head just enough to glance up at him. There’s something there that feels like the edge of a deep breath he won’t let out. It isn’t a promise he gave you. It was something smaller. A kind of understanding only he could offer.

The silence stretches for a moment too long, heavy but not unbearable. Then Alex breaks it.

“You know, if they ask again, I could just tell them we’re waiting for Sock to start talking so he can weigh in on whether he wants siblings.”

You shake your head, the smallest smile breaking through. “God, don’t give your mum any ideas. She’d probably knit him a little sweater that says big brother.”

Alex chuckles. The tension finally cracked, just a little. “Alright, noted. No sibling talk in front of Mum.”

“No sibling talk at all.” you corrected, nudging him with your elbow.

“Fine, fine.” He grins, leaning closer until his voice is just a murmur. “But if Sock starts talking, all bets are off.”

It was absurd, but it worked.

The afternoon is suspended in that semi-darkness, the kind that feels like it could stretch on forever. The curtains are drawn, filtering the pale winter light into muted shadows that fall over Alex’s room. His figure is a quiet mound beneath the blanket, shifting slightly as he adjusts to your presence. His back is to you, hunched. His Christmas pajamas — red with cartoonish reindeer — peek out from beneath the covers, ending awkwardly at his calves where the fabric is just too short. They’re old, rediscovered while rummaging through boxes of things he never throws away. They’re somehow endearing. You can’t believe he’s still wearing them.

You knock your knuckles against his exposed ankle, a quiet gesture that’s more habit than intention.

You knock again, the sharp point of bone a contrast to the soft fabric covering the rest of him.

He coughs, then groans. “What is it?” he asks, voice hoarse and half-muffled by the pillow.

“Whatcha doing?” you ask.

“Napping…” He yawns, stretching the word into something almost melodramatic. “…obviously.”

“Well, wake up.” you prod.

“Oh, dear, dear…” he grumbles, turning over like a petulant child dragged from bed too early with the kind of exaggerated effort that’s as much a performance as it is genuine irritation. The blanket clings to him like it’s part of his skin, and in his struggle to free himself, he ends up more tangled than before. He sighs in surrender, his face poking out from the fabric, hair a mess of dark waves.

His eyes are heavy-lidded, his cheeks a little flushed from the heat of the blanket. He looks particularly cute like this, even with the hiccup that follows — a small, tiny squeak that catches you off guard, so out of place it even startles him for a moment. Cute, until it morphs into that familiar expression: brows furrowing, lips tightening, the kind of face that looks like he’s seconds away from either a burp or a gag. No, he’s still cute.

“What’s the matter?” he asks finally, blinking up at you with half-hearted concern, his voice still hoarse from sleep.

“I don’t know.” you say honestly, your hands finding his ankles again, sliding up over the faint ridges of his tibia. The friction of his leg hairs against your palms makes him twitch, and you grin as he squirms, trying to jerk away.

“Stop it.” he mutters, but there’s no bite to it, just a quiet plea.

You relent, letting him settle again, before climbing onto the bed beside him. He shifts to make room, though the blanket clings stubbornly to his legs. The bed creaks. His body feels warm even through the layers, radiating heat like a sleepy furnace. Alex blinks at you, his face caught somewhere between sleepy irritation and that soft, half-lidded fondness he doesn’t bother to hide.

“I just miss you.” you say, softly this time, your hand brushing over his arm.

His eyes catch a glint of the dim light sneaking through the curtains. For a moment, he just looks at you, the sleepiness fading

“You miss me?” he echoes, voice hoarse, like it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. He rubs at his eyes, a slow, lazy motion that makes your chest tighten. “I’ve been right here the whole time.”

“I know,” you murmur, pulling your knees up to your chest as you sit beside him. “But you’ve been…napping.”

“And?” he asks, mock affronted, though the way his lips twitch betrays his amusement.

“And…I don’t know.” you say again. “It just feels like forever.” His hair sticks up at the crown, and you resist the urge to smooth it down — barely.

Alex lets out a sigh, dragging his hand down his face before looking at you properly. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Probably.”

He sits up, propping himself on one elbow, and the blanket slides down to his lap. “What am I supposed to do with that?”

You shrug, fingers playing idly with the edge of the blanket. “Let me stay?”

He grins. It’s not long before he gives in, though, because it’s you, and he’s never really been good at saying no to you.

“Stay, then.”

You don’t wait for further permission, stretching out beside him and resting your head on his shoulder.

“Hey-” he grumbles, wincing as you jab at a sensitive spot. “Do you want something, or are you just here to bully me awake?”

“A little of both.” you admit, your fingers already sneaking their way beneath the edge of the blanket, brushing along his ribs. His skin is warm, almost feverish, though you know it’s just the heat he keeps trapped under all those layers. The jittery feeling that had been gnawing at you begins to subside.

“God, you’re freezing!” He jerks away, his own hand coming up to trap yours, holding it in place against his chest like he could warm it through sheer proximity.

“Don’t exaggerate.”

“Not exaggerating.” he says, dragging out the words. He still hasn’t let go of your hand, though.

“I’m right here.” he says, his voice low and a little scratchy, as if the words had to crawl their way out.

“Yeah.” you reply, but you can’t help curling even closer, resting your head against his shoulder. His arm moves instinctively, wrapping around you and pulling you into his warmth. He presses his chin to the top of your head, the slight scratch of his unshaven jaw making you smile.

“What’s this really about?” he asks after a moment, his voice quieter now, almost cautious.

“Nothing.” you say, your words muffled against the soft cotton of his shirt. “I just wanted to be close to you.”

Alex hums, his fingers tracing slow, absent patterns along your arm. “You’re always close to me.”

“Not like this.” you reply, and though the words come out simply, there’s an edge of vulnerability to them that you hope he doesn’t notice.

Alex notices everything.

He shifts slightly, turning so he can see your face. “Hey,” he murmurs, his free hand tilting your chin up. His eyes search yours, their depth almost unnerving in this semi-darkness. “I’m not going anywhere, you know?”

“I know.” The corners of your mouth twitch, waiting for him to react. He doesn’t disappoint.

“Good, baby.” He leans in and kisses your forehead, a soft, lingering touch that feels like both a promise and a reassurance. You go closer, pressing your cheek into his pillow, your breaths mingling in the narrow space between you. His lashes flutter as he opens his eyes again, meeting your gaze. “You really miss me?” he asks, quieter this time.

You nod, your nose brushing his. “I do.”

“Even when I’m right here?”

“Especially then.”

The hint of a smile twitches at his lips, soft and fond in a way that makes your chest ache. “S’pose that’s alright, then.” he murmurs, letting out a long sigh. He shifts, untangling himself from the blanket with lazy, deliberate movements until his arms are free and reaching for you.

When he wraps himself around you, the room feels even warmer, even darker, like the world outside doesn’t exist. His hands find their way to your back, smoothing over the fabric of your shirt in lazy circles, and his voice comes low and rough against your ear.

“Miss you too, y’know.”

You don’t answer, not with words. You bury yourself into him instead, tucking yourself so close it feels like you might sink into him entirely. His breathing evens out after a while, but his fingers never stop their slow movement. Neither of you says anything more. You don’t need to.

Until he hiccups again. It’s sharp and quick, breaking the stillness of the room, and you can’t help but giggle. But then something else slips through, something heavier, and before you can stop it, a tear edges out and clings to your lashes. You press your face to his shoulder, hiding, but not well enough.

Because the thought comes unbidden — too sharp to ignore, too deep to escape. You can’t help but imagine a smaller version of him, soft-cheeked and wide-eyed, hiccuping just the same. And the image twists something inside of you, almost hurts, because how could your heart survive it? How could you hold so much love and still exist? You barely survive him every day.

“Alex?” you say, your voice small, almost hesitant.

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to have a baby?”

He’s silent — not in a way that shuts you out, but in the way that means he’s turning it over in his mind, letting it settle. His lips move against your skin, brushing kisses wherever he can reach: your collarbone, the slope of your shoulder, the spot just below your ear. His hand has stopped its gentle motion on your back, now just resting there.

It takes a long moment for him to speak.

“I think…” he starts, pausing like the words are too heavy to admit. “I think I’m too old to have a baby. To be a father.”

There’s something in his voice — something faint and distant, like disappointment hidden under layers of careful resignation. He says it like a fact, one he’s come to terms with.

You don’t look at him. Can’t. Instead, you focus on the sound of his breathing, warm and steady against your skin. But the air shifts, and suddenly, it’s not about a baby anymore. It’s about him.

It hits you all at once: Alex is going to get old one day. His hair will go grey, his laugh will quiet, and there will be a day when you won’t wake up next to him. When his warmth won’t fill this space, when you’ll reach for him and find nothing but air.

“Hey…” he whispers, his lips pausing in their path along your skin. His hands come up to cup your face, and when he tilts your chin up, you can’t hide from him anymore. He can see his own reflection in the tears clinging to your lashes. “Did I- did I say something? Are you okay, darling?”

“You’re not too old.” you say quickly, your voice trembling.

He smiles softly at you, a faint curve of his lips that aims to bring you back out. He knows this isn’t about the words he said. Knows you’re not upset, not exactly. He just holds you tighter, like he can squeeze the ache out of your chest.

“I just don’t want our kid to have a dad that’s sixty before they’re ten.” he says, and his stupid little math makes you laugh despite yourself.

“Alex,” you chuckle, a tear slipping down your cheek, “you’ve got your math all wrong. Severely.”

“Yeah.” he admits, laughing softly. “Probably.”

He shifts, sliding his arms around you, pulling you close until you’re almost beneath him, tangled up in his weight and warmth. He’s everywhere — solid and heavy, pressing you into the mattress. His breath is against your ear, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, and the thought that had unraveled you before feels so far away now.

“I’m sorry for…” You trail off, trying to find the words for crying over nothing and everything at once.

Alex hums, brushing his lips against the curve of your neck. “You don’t have to be.” His voice is a soft murmur, filled with a kind of understanding that makes you ache even more.

“I just didn’t know it would be like this,” you whisper, not meant for him to hear.

“Like what?”

“That I would become so closely tied to you.”

There’s weight in the words, the kind that would feel crushing if you weren’t so completely wrapped up in each other. But neither of you has the energy to linger on it, to pull it apart and examine it.

So instead, you just hold on. Feel the warmth of him, the life of him, the love that’s so much a part of him you can barely tell where it ends and where you begin.

Lips melt together, air exchanged between mouths like you’re both trying to live off each other’s breath. He’s pressed so close, and yet somehow, you still miss him. It’s like no matter how much of him you take in — his touch, his warmth, his quiet murmurs — you’re always left wanting more. There’s a hunger to it now, a longing that no amount of kisses seem to satisfy.

It’s been too long since you kissed him like this — messy and unrestrained, all need and no patience. The kind of kiss where you lose track of where your body ends and his begins. His lips are chapped, and yours are starting to sting, but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter that the walls are thin or that the door isn’t locked or that you’re both supposed to be adults, because right now, it feels like you could drown in him and still come up gasping for more. The air was too thick with propriety for you to touch him the way you wanted in front of his parents, for what felt like forever. It feels dangerous. Like every kiss, every touch, could spiral into something impossible to stop.

But you can’t stop. Neither can he.

His hips roll against you, deliberate and slow, lazy grind and the sensation sends heat pooling low in your belly. His hands move with purpose now, gripping your waist like he’s afraid you might slip through his fingers.

“I like you a lot.” he murmurs, his voice rough and low, the words muffled against your lips.

It’s so simple, so earnest, that it makes you laugh — a soft, breathless sound that he swallows with another kiss. You could get drunk off this.

“Al.” you murmur, pulling back just enough to look at him.

“Hm?” His lips chase yours even as he hums, his eyes dark and heavy-lidded, focused entirely on you.

“I want-”

“You want me to fuck a baby into you?”

His voice is so serious, so matter-of-fact, that it takes you a second to process what he’s said. Then, you laugh, the sound startled and bubbling out of you uncontrollably. “Alex!”

“What?” He grins, unrepentant, leaning down to nip at your jaw.

“You know you can’t.” you say, though the heat blooming in your chest betrays the way his words made you feel.

“Well…” He shifts, pressing closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “I can try.”

His hands slide lower, slipping beneath your shirt, his palms warm and rough against your skin. He smiles against your neck, his breath hot as he adds, “I can fill you up with my babies…do my part of the deal.”

“Al!” You swat at him, but your protest is half-hearted at best, your body already arching into his touch.

He kisses you again, and this time it’s all need. There’s nothing gentle about it now, nothing careful. His teeth catch your bottom lip, his hands gripping you tighter, pulling you closer, until there’s no space left between you.

You feel like you could crawl inside his skin, live there, wrap yourself up in the way he smells, the way he feels, the way he breathes against your neck. God, you could spend the rest of your life like this, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

“Do you even think before you say shit like that?” you manage to gasp, though your voice is more amused than annoyed.

“Not really.” he admits, his grin widening as he pulls back just enough to look at you. His hair is tousled, his cheeks flushed, and he looks so thoroughly pleased with himself that you can’t help but laugh again.

“Can’t believe I married you fool.” you say, shaking your head, but your hands are tangling in his hair and pulling him back down. So soft against your palms, and his skin is warm under your fingertips, and you think, This is home. He’s home.

He pulls back just enough to press his forehead against yours, his breathing uneven. “You really miss me that much?”

“Even when you’re right here.” you say, and you mean it.

“Especially then.” he murmurs, his lips brushing yours as he speaks.

You could live off this. Off him. Easily.

When he kisses you again, it’s softer, slower, like he’s trying to memorise you. Like he’s trying to leave pieces of himself with you, pressed into your skin, embedded in your bones. And you let him, because if anyone gets to claim parts of you, it’s him.

His pants are pushed down, your shirt is tugged up but not off — it’s too cold for that. Your skin pebbles with goosebumps, nipples perking up as the air brushes over them, and Alex’s gaze snaps to them like they’re the only thing in the room worth looking at, like he’s just unwrapped the best gift under the tree. His eyes light up, soft and wide, and he’s got this stupid, almost boyish grin spreading across his face, like he’s just stumbled into the best Christmas morning of his life, even though he’s seen you like this before — dozens of times. Maybe hundreds.

“God,” he starts, his voice low, “you’re so-”

“You too.” you interrupt, and it’s so fast it almost makes him laugh. But he doesn’t, because your hand slides down between you, brushing over his stomach and lower, and he forgets how to do anything but exhale sharply.

Your fingers curl around him, and he lets out a sharp, breathy sound that goes straight to your chest. He’s hard, but you can feel the slight chill on his skin as your hand moves over him. He groans, low and unsteady, his head tipping forward to rest against your shoulder as you stroke him. “Fuck, you’re eager.” he says, his tone teasing but breaking halfway through when your grip tightens just slightly.

It’s cold, he thinks, and he’s absurdly glad the blanket’s there to cover you both. Not just to trap the heat but to hide the way his balls have drawn up tight from the temperature. You wouldn’t care anyway, he tells himself, but it doesn’t stop the small pang of self-consciousness.

You don’t seem to notice. Or maybe you just don’t care, because your hand moves with purpose, stroking him with a rhythm that builds faster than he expects. Your lips are everywhere — on his neck, his jaw, the corner of his mouth — and between kisses, you murmur things that make his head spin. “Not enough?” you murmur, your hand moving slowly, your thumb brushing over the tip just to watch him shudder.

“Shit-” he hisses and you bite your lip to hide your grin. His hands find your waist, gripping you, but it’s no use. You’ve got him exactly where you want him, and you know it.

“Fuck, you’re so good, Al.” you say, your voice a soft, breathy hum against his ear.

“Oh-” his hips go jerking up into your hand, unable to stop himself. “Fuck, you’re gonna- god, you’re gonna-” he groans, his voice low and wrecked, the slick slide of your palm dragging him closer to the edge.

“Good way to go.” you tease, leaning down to press your lips to his neck, and he lets out a noise that’s somewhere between a laugh and a groan.

“You’re impossible.” he says, but his hips are already moving again, thrusting up like he can’t help himself. He can’t.

“Impossible?” you echo, your tone mock-offended. “You’re the one who’s already- oh, god, Alex, you’re practically whining right now.”

“I’m not whining.” he shoots back, but his voice cracks on the last word, and you snort.

“You’re so whining.” you say, laughing softly against his skin.

“Jeez.” he mutters, but he’s grinning now, his hands sliding down to your hips as he presses you closer. “You’re gonna regret teasing me.”

“Am I?” you ask, your hand stroking him with just enough pressure to make him shudder again.

“Yeah.” he says, his voice low and dangerous, but there’s a spark of mischief in his eyes that makes your stomach flip. Before you can respond, he’s shifting, his hands tugging at the waistband of your underwear. “Off.” he says, and you laugh, shifting to help him.

“Demanding.”

“Desperate.” he corrects. You can’t even argue, because his hands are already on you again, sliding up your thighs to pull you into his lap. “Fuck, I need to be inside you, girl.”

You smile against his lips, “Then what are you waiting for?”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He barely manages to kick his pants down farther before he’s reaching for you again.

“C’mere.” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, his hands warm against your chilled skin. You settle over him, the weight of you grounding him, and for a moment, he just holds you there, his forehead resting against yours as he catches his breath. “You okay?” he asks, his voice soft, his thumbs brushing lazy circles into your skin.

“Always.” you say, your fingers sliding into his hair, and the way you look at him — like he’s the only thing that matters — it makes his chest ache.

“Mhm.” His hands tighten on your hips as he guides you down and the groan that tears from his throat when he sinks into you is almost enough to undo you completely.

You laugh softly, your fingers threading through his hair. “Missed me, huh?”

“Shut up,” he says, but there’s no heat in it.

“Thought you weren’t whining?” you tease, rocking your hips just slightly, and his hands clamp down on you, holding you still.

“Christ, you’re gonna drive me insane.” he mutters, his head tipping back against the pillow.

“Already have.” you say, leaning down to kiss him, and he groans against your mouth, and his hips are moving again.

“Impossible.” he mutters, his hands sliding up your back, pulling you closer.

“You said that already.” you remind him, grinning against his lips.

“Still true.” he says, and then he’s kissing you again, and it’s messy and desperate and perfect.

He moves then, his hips rocking up into you, and the heat of him makes you forget about the cold entirely. The blanket slips off your shoulders, pooling around your back, but you don't care. He doesn't care. All he cares about is you and your warmth and your weight and the soft sounds you make as you move with him.

“Fuck.” he breathes, his voice shaky as he buries his face in your neck. “You feel so good.”

“So do you.” you murmur, your hands gripping his shoulders until they feel like they’ve been set on fire, until it feels like the whole world’s on fire.

The pace builds, faster, rougher, but there’s still something tender about the way he holds you, the way his hands move over your skin like he’s afraid you might disappear. You feel like you might burst. You kiss him again, swallowing his groans as he thrusts up into you, and you think, I could live in this moment forever.

Alex doesn’t just lose himself in you — he unravels completely. His grip on your hips tightens as his breath comes heavy and ragged, his forehead pressed to yours for a brief moment before he pulls back. “You…” he mutters, his voice low and hoarse, as though that single word is the only one he can manage.

Before you can respond, he flips you over. The mattress dips and you barely have time to gasp before he’s on you, his body pressing yours into the bed, pinning you down. His hands find your wrists, pulling them above your head as he settles between your legs. He’s everywhere, all at once, overwhelming and intoxicating, and you can’t help the small, broken sound that escapes your throat.

“Shhh…” he murmurs, a crooked smile flickering across his lips, his eyes bright with amusement. “They’re still awake.” You know he’s talking about the thin walls, the parents in the other room, but it doesn’t matter, because his smile fades almost immediately when you clench around him, your hips lifting to meet his. “Fuck-” he hisses, his voice breaking, and he has to stop for a second, burying his face in your neck like he’s trying to compose himself. “Love, you’re gripping me so tight-”

“I’m so close.” you whimper, high and breathless, and his head snaps up.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, soft but teasing, and one of his hands leaves your wrist to smooth over your hair, petting you gently like you’ve just done something worthy of praise. “That’s my girl.”

The words undo you. Your body tenses, arching against him as you come, your cries muffled by his hand when he moves it quickly to cover your mouth.

“Shhh.” he murmurs again, more soothing. His hand slides from your mouth to your jaw, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he watches you fall apart beneath him as he starts moving again, rougher this time, and the sound of him sliding in and out of you, wet and obscene, fills the room.

You can barely think, barely breathe, and when you dare to moan, loud and broken, he shuts you up with his lips. Messy and desperate, his tongue sliding against yours as he thrusts into you harder, faster. You can feel him everywhere, his hands gripping your thighs, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his cock stretching you so perfectly it almost hurts.

“You’re so- fuck-” he mutters against your lips, his voice shaking. “You’re so good. So fucking good.”

You’re too cockdrunk to answer, your head falling back against the pillow as your body shakes beneath him. He groans, his hands gripping your hips tighter as he chases his own release, his movements becoming erratic.

“I’m gonna come inside you now.” he says, low and wrecked. He’s already halfway there and you nod, your fingers digging into his shoulders. “Wasn’t asking.” he mutters.

“Please.” you whisper, and it’s that — your soft, trembling plea — that seems to undo him entirely.

“Fuck.” he breathes, his hands gripping your hips so tightly it feels like he’s grounding himself on you, holding you in place as if he might get lost otherwise. His face twists, caught between pleasure and something close to pain, and you watch him fall apart, his usual control slipping away.

It’s always like this when he comes inside you. Like he’s completely overcome, lost in the heat and wetness of you, in the way you take him so completely. There’s something elemental about it, like you’re the only thing keeping him on earth, and he clings to you like you’re the answer to every question he’s ever had. The sounds he makes are devastating: deep, broken moans mixed with your name, half-spoken, half-gasped.

He presses his forehead harder against yours, his breaths coming in short, ragged bursts, and you can feel his body trembling, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all. “God, you feel so-” He cuts himself off with a sharp gasp, his hips stuttering and he presses deeper, hot and endless, and he can’t stop, and he doesn’t ever want to stop. “Fuck, fuck…” he mutters, the words tumbling out of him. He’s not even aware he’s speaking. His hand slides from your hip to your stomach, splaying wide over the place where his cum is now buried deep inside you, as if he’s trying to feel it through your skin.

It drives him crazy, every single time. To be so bare with you, so vulnerable, to feel you around him like this, no barriers, nothing between you. It’s too much and somehow never enough.

He stays like that, hips pressed flush against yours, his cock still twitching inside you. His eyes are shut tight, his jaw clenched, like he’s trying to hold onto the feeling, trying to commit it to memory.

When he finally opens his them, they’re dark and glassy, still hazy with pleasure. He looks at you like you’re something unreal, something he can’t believe he gets to have. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” he murmurs, his voice hoarse, and it’s not just a compliment but a declaration, raw and unfiltered. His thumbs brush gently over your cheeks as he kisses you, slow and deep. It’s softer now, reverent, like he’s thanking you, like he’s worshiping you.

You can feel him still, still warm and pulsing, and you know he’s not ready to pull away yet. Neither are you.

“Fuck.” he mutters, his voice muffled against your neck.

You laugh, your fingers sliding into his hair as you hold him. “Yeah.” you whisper, your voice shaky but warm. “Fuck.”

He stays inside you far longer than makes any sense, long enough that the warmth between you turns to a sticky, shared heat that you can feel seeping out, dampening the sheets beneath you. Neither of you moves, and he’s quiet everywhere — his body heavy against yours, his breaths slow and even, the weight of him pinning you to the mattress in a way that feels unshakable. It’s not the kind of silence that asks for anything. It’s just Alex. The way he lingers in moments like this, unhurried and unwilling to let go, like pulling away would break the spell. You know he should move, that you should clean up, but the thought of him leaving you empty right now feels unbearable. You don’t want to move.

You tilt your head just slightly to press your lips to his temple, the salt of his sweat faint on your tongue. His eyes are closed, but you know he’s not asleep. He’s just…here, with you. Fully.

“I love being with you,” you murmur, “even when you stay silent so long.”

His eyes open slowly, and they’re impossibly soft, the kind of look that makes your chest feel tight and full all at once. He shifts just enough to press his lips to yours. “I don’t mean to stay quiet. Sometimes I just…don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I like it. The quiet with you.”

He hums, his hand drifting lazily up and down your side, his fingers tracing the curve of your hip, the dip of your waist, memorising you all over again. “It’s different with you.” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “The silence. It’s not empty. It’s…” He trails off, his brow furrowing. He’s searching for the right word.

“Full.” you offer, and his lips twitch into the faintest smile.

“Yeah.” he says softly. “Full.”

Softening but somehow still so present. It’s ridiculous, how much you love him in moments like this — when he’s not doing anything extraordinary, just existing with you, just letting himself be here.

“I should move.” he says eventually, though he doesn’t sound like he means it. His hand slips to your stomach, his thumb brushing absentmindedly over your skin. “I’m probably making a mess.”

You laugh, the sound light and quiet in the stillness of the room. “You are.” you say, and he groans softly, hiding his face in your neck.

“Sorry.” he mumbles, though he doesn’t make any effort to pull away.

You press a kiss to his hair, your fingers tracing lazy patterns along the nape of his neck. “Don’t be.”

It’s not reasonable, staying like this. The sheets are ruined, and the air between you is heavy with the aftermath of everything you’ve just shared, but none of it matters. All that matters is him, here, with you, so close it feels like you might dissolve into him if you’re not careful.

“You know,” he says after a long stretch of silence, his voice muffled against your skin, “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way before.”

“What way?” you ask, your hand sliding to his shoulder, holding him a little closer.

“Like I could stay like this forever. With you.”

Your chest tightens, and you kiss him again, because you don’t know how else to respond to something so devastatingly simple, so honest.

Forever. You think you could stay like this forever, too.

The weight of Christmas morning presses heavier than it should, tension tightening the air like an over-wrapped gift. In the living room, the Turners exchange looks — small, darting ones that say everything without anyone daring to open their mouths. You can’t decide if the silence is better or worse than outright commentary, but either way, the room feels suffocating. It’s impossible to look at anyone directly. You can’t help but think, We really should’ve stayed at his place.

The first chance you get, you slip away upstairs to Alex’s room. Even as you ascend the stairs, snippets of hushed teasing float up from below, followed by poorly disguised chuckles. Your cheeks burn with fresh embarrassment.

You collapse onto the bed, burying your face into the pillow to smother a groan of frustration. You don’t have to wait long before Alex joins you. The door creaks open, and his steps are slow and heavy, weighted with a mix of exhaustion and mortification. He practically slumps inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click. He’s silent, but you can see his shoulders shaking. For a second, you think he might actually be upset — until he lets out a muffled laugh, half-horrified, half-disbelieving.

“Oh my god.” he groans into his palms.

You prop yourself up on one elbow, watching him with a mix of guilt and amusement. “That bad, huh?”

The room feels smaller with him in it, or maybe it’s just warmer. Alex lies sprawled beside you on the bed, his arm still flung over his face like he’s shielding himself from the weight of the world — or at least his family’s knowing looks. His cheeks are still pink, and even though you can’t see it, you know the tips of his ears are red too. They always are when he’s embarrassed.

“They’re relentless.” he mutters, voice muffled by the crook of his arm.

“Do I-” you start.

“Wanna know?” he finishes for you, dropping his arm to glance sideways at you.

“Yeah.” you admit cautiously.

“No, you don’t.” His lips twitch, and you can tell he’s fighting a smile.

“Okay.” you say, drawing the word out as you roll onto your side to face him. “Were we…that loud?”

He exhales sharply and presses the heels of his hands against his burning cheeks. “Loud enough.” he admits, his voice low and strained with amusement. “Apparently.”

You can’t help it — you laugh. It bubbles up and spills out before you can stop it, and soon, Alex is laughing too, the sound soft and self-conscious but also a little freeing.

He lifts his head just enough to peek at you. “Loud enough that everyone had something to say. Even grandma.”

You cringe. “Oh no. What did she say?”

Alex groans again, dropping his head back dramatically against the mattress. “Something about how ‘young love is passionate’ and how she’s glad we’re ‘keeping the spark alive.’” He lets out another strangled laugh, covering his face again. “I’m never leaving this room again.”

You try to suppress a laugh of your own, but it bubbles up anyway. “Well, at least she was supportive?”

“She also gave me a knowing look, like she’s proud of me or something. That’s even worse.” He groans, rolling onto his side to face you. “How are you so calm about this? I feel like I’m gonna die.”

“Because,” you say, trying to keep a straight face, “it’s kind of funny.”

“It’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

He glares. “You’re not the one who had to face my entire family while they all knew.”

“True.” you admit, grinning now. “But you’re the one who said, ‘I’m gonna come inside you now.�� Pretty sure that set the tone for the rest of the night.”

His jaw drops, and he throws a pillow at you. “You’re the one who begged me to!”

“Shh!” you hiss, laughing as you dodge the pillow. “Do you want them to hear us again?”

Alex groans, pulling the blanket over his head like a shield. “This is officially the worst Christmas ever.”

“Worst?” you tease, crawling closer and tugging at the blanket. “You didn’t seem to think so last night.”

He peeks out. “I’m serious. Next year, we’re staying home. Just you, me, and a soundproof door.”

“Deal.” you say, leaning in to kiss his nose. “They’re not going to let this go, are they?” you ask.

“Not in this lifetime.” he replies. “Ugh…Dad kept looking at me like I betrayed the family name.”

“And your mom?”

“Oh, she didn’t say anything.” He grimaces. “But that’s worse. I could feel her thinking things, and it was bad.”

“Define bad.”

He shifts onto his side to face you, his hand reaching out to lightly trace the edge of your jaw, his embarrassment softening. “Bad enough that I never want to find out for sure.”

You snort, nudging his shoulder playfully. “We’re not sneaky, huh?”

“Not even a little bit.” he says, leaning in to press a quick, warm kiss to your forehead. “But at least it’s over now.”

“Over? Alex, it’s Christmas morning. We’re still here.”

“Right.” he groans, flopping onto his back again. “Kill me now.”

He’s a grown man now, but some things never change. Even at this age, Alex can’t quite handle being caught in the act. Not that you blame him. The Turners have a way of making their judgment feel monumental, like you’ve broken some sacred Christmas tradition by being, well, married. And doing married stuff.

He’s flushed and disheveled, his hair sticking up at odd angles from the way he’s been running his hands through it all morning. His shirt is wrinkled from where he flopped onto the bed, and the collar’s just slightly askew. He’s always been handsome in that unintentional, almost careless way, but right now, he looks adorable.

“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed, you know that?” you say, unable to resist teasing him just a little.

“Don’t make it worse.”

“I’m not!” you protest, biting back a laugh. “I’m just saying. Some things never change.”

He raises an eyebrow, curious but wary. “Like what?”

“Like how you turn into a human tomato whenever you’re even slightly flustered,” you say, grinning. “Or how you can’t make eye contact when you’re embarrassed. Or how you always-”

“Alright, alright, I get it.” he interrupts, laughing as he rolls onto his side to face you. “I’m a walking cliché. Thanks for the reminder.”

“Not a cliché.” you correct. “Just…you. It’s kind of endearing, you know.”

He doesn’t respond, just looks at you with that quiet, searching expression of his. It’s that same look that made you fall for him in the first place.

“I really do love you.” he murmurs after a while, his voice low and warm.

“I know.” you whisper back, resting your head against his chest. “For what it’s worth,” you say, glancing up at him, “I don’t regret it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” you say with a small smile. “Worth the teasing. Probably.”

His laugh is warm and low, and he squeezes your hand lightly. “Well, remind me to return the favor next time we stay at your place.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling as you nudge him again. “Merry Christmas, Alex.”

“Merry Christmas, trouble.”

a/n: Merry Christmas (Eve) for those who celebrate, I guess! (I’m just in it for the gifts icl) I hope you liked it, might be a bit all over the place, haven’t got a chance to properly check it for any mistakes but yeah, I’ve missed him a lot. Is it still prof!al if he’s not her professor anymore? I’m counting it.

#alex turner #alex turner x reader #alex turner x fem!reader #alex turner x you #alex turner x y/n #alex turner fluff #alex turner smut #alex turner fic #alex turner fanfic #smut #mr turner #goblinontour

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captainwans · 5 months ago

Text

drunk in love.

— alex turner

pairing: 2005!alex turner x fem!reader

warning: mentions of drugs use, vulgar language, implied smut. overall, mostly, purely, sweet-teeth rotting fluff. ( friends to lovers trope! )

word count: 1,6k | ( picture not mine! )

note: inspired by my love ( @stardustloserdoll )

masterlist!

"Al, c’mon!” [Y/N] chirped, grabbing his arm, intertwining their hands together as the female dragged them away from the crowd toward the small photo kiosk. She hiccuped, crimson dusted across her cheeks from drinking, along with sloppy steps, which Alex had to hold her waist to keep her in toes.

Alex let out a breathy laugh, eyes barely open as he tightened his grip on her waist. He felt his heart soar out of his chest, feeling her warm hands around his, subconsciously rubbing his skin with her thumb as they halted with their steps.

[Y/N] frowned, lips forming into a downwards pout when she noticed a line toward the photo booth. She let out an audible groan, her head falling backwards dramatically. “Dammit, we have to wait.” she whined, tilting her head to the side as her eyes darted across the heavy line of people waiting on the selfie booth.

Alex sniffled, rubbing his eye with his knuckles before turning his attention on her, his lips curving upwards unknowingly. “It's not that bad. It will be our turn before you know it.” he tried to reassure her, swinging their arms back and forth with a grin.

[Y/N] sighed, feeling goosebumps form her skin. “I'm cold, though.” She brought her hands to her arms, in an attempt to shield herself from the cold as she cursed internally for not bringing a jacket.

Alex opened his mouth for a second, but closed it, contemplating his next actions. He had a war inside his head for a few seconds before he cleared his throat and opened his arms. “C’mere, love. I’ll warm you up.” he said, cringing at his choices of words and cracked a smile to hide his awkwardness. He sighed in relief when she grinned, launching herself into his arms.

Alex laughed, almost knocking him out of balance as he felt her squeeze his waist. She hid her face into his chest, feeling his warmth. He rubbed her arms, trying to warm her up as they comfortably waited in line. He placed his chin on top of her head, fingers gently drawing circles around her skin. “You comfy?” he asked, moving his head to the side to look at her.

[Y/N]’s heart was furiously pounding at the intimacy and she felt her throat go dry, and she nodded instead and added a small hum. She let him guide them as the line got smaller, completely glued to his chest as she felt his rough calloused fingers moving up and down her arms.

After an eternity of waiting, when in reality it was only ten minutes, it was finally the duo’s turn and the female sprinted toward the booth. She heard Alex loudly cackling from behind her making her giggle and went up the small stairs leading her inside the selfie kiosk. She turned her head to him, a wide smile etched into her features and brought her arm out excitedly. "C'mon, Al!” she beamed, eyes sparking and grabbing his arm as they entered the small space.

“Ah, this is tight.” she mumbled under her breath, but the latter heard her nonetheless.

Alex chuckled under his breath. “You don’t say.” he said, ducking to avoid hitting his head on the roof. He shut the blinds and turned around, only to almost face planting as they realized how tight the space was.

She shifted her body just as Alex turned around and faced her, making them pause, flustered smiles being shared as they gazed at each other. “Well, hello there.” [Y/N] cheekily said, her bloodshot eyes wrinkling from smiling as his breath fanned her face.

Alex mirrored her look, cheeks reddening and adding a short laugh before turning his attention on the photo machine, putting a few coins inside the machine before touching one of the buttons. “Alright, what kind of pose should we do first?” he asked, turning to look at her, who was fixing her hair by using the camera lens as the mirror.

She brought a finger to her lips, eyes deep in thought. Her eyes lit up, “Bunny ears?” she suggested, puckering her lips at him making him nod his head.

The camera counted down to three and the pair brought their hand to each other’s head to point bunny ears. She giggled, feeling his hands lightly scratch her scalp before his hands slid down her back comfortably.

“Alright..” she bit her lip, ignoring his warm hands rubbing down her back. She clicked on the screen for the next countdown. Alex put an arm around her shoulders bringing her closer as the pair shared a big toothy grin to the camera.

She grabbed his chin, using both of her hands to pull him closer to her face as they posed for their third picture. Alex laughed through his nose, feeling her crimson cheeks touching his warm ones. The flashing light made him squint his eyes, feeling his eyes sting.

[Y/N] looked at him with a downwards pout, inching closer to the musician. “You alright, Al?” She fondly asked him, bringing both of her hands to remove his hands away from his face. She watched him blinking rapidly as he nodded, eyes slightly open making her eyebrows furrow with concern.

Alex’s breath hitched, goosebumps breaking into his skin at her slightest touch. “Y-Yeah. Just the flashlight….blinding my eyes.” He answered as he opened her eyes, feeling his heart palpitating at their closure.

The female brought her hand to his face, her fingers delicately removing a few hair strands away from his damp forehead to see him properly. She smiled warmly at him, which he shyly returned.

“You’re so cute.” Alex heard her say, causing a dust of pink dance across his cheeks, feeling blood rush through his cheeks. His heart was furiously beating against his chest and he was sure that she could hear how fast it was beating.

The musician looked into her eyes before trailing over to her features. “Nah,” he sighed and tucked her hair behind her ear, letting his hand linger just below her ear. “Think that applies to you, darling.” He admitted, his hand drifting up to hold the side of her neck as his thumb gently brushed her jaw.

[Y/N] closed her eyes, feeling his fingers interweaving through her hair and she stifled back a sigh of pleasure by biting her lip. She felt him cup her cheek and she opened her eyes.

Hesitant eyes met hers, slowly softening as he opened his mouth. “Can I kiss you?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper, but she heard him.

A tremor of fire engulfed into her body. Her heart was stuttering against her chest and she felt heat flood over her face. She smiled widely, showing her teeth as she repeated his question inside her mind like a mantra. “Yes!” She replied with enthusiasm.

The female covered her mouth with her hand, cursing internally for sounding too desperate. She cleared her throat, giving him a flustered smile. “I—uh, I mean…y-yes, please.” She sheepishly said, failing to hide her radiant smile by the way he was looking at her.

Yes, please. Alex thought she couldn’t look any more endearing and charming than she already is. He mirrored her flustered expression and hummed. His hand was still resting on her cheek and he didn’t hesitate to close the distance between them, pulling her into a searing kiss.

[Y/N] met his kiss with a dreamy sigh, sliding her hands up to wrap around his shoulder and to his neck to bring him closer, wanting to feel every inch of him. His stomach swarmed with butterflies, feeling her hitch her leg around his hip to pull him closer. He trapped her against the cold wall, his hand pulling up her thigh as he deepened the kiss, swiping his tongue into her mouth making her moan.

A loud bang on the kiosk made the pair pull away, both breathless and panting as they looked at the curtain being pulled open. Alex's arms around her waist tightening as they watched an annoyed couple glaring daggers at them. “Can you guys do this somewhere else? This is a photo booth, not a make out booth.” They exclaimed, their expressions morphing into a sour frown.

Alex and [Y/N] shared a look before he voiced his irritation. “Oh, fuck off! It hasn’t even been five minutes.” he flipped him off, making the man scrunch his face with annoyance and shut the blinds rather aggressively.

The musician sighed, turning his head back to her, his irritation ceasing away at the way she was looking at him. “Fucking cock blocker.” he mumbled, leaning his forehead against hers.

“Tell me about it,” she sighed, nudging her nose with his before turning her head toward the camera. She scowled, “And it didn’t even take the picture.” She complained gesturing with her hand, eyebrows furrowed as she touched the button to redo their last picture.

She felt his hands rubbing her back, going lower to touch her hip. His fingers trailed down the hem of her shirt, slipping under the soft material onto her bare skin. She felt a shiver down her spine at his touch. She shifted her body through the small space to look back at him. There was something in the way he was looking at her, which made her mind immerse with the possibility of him rearranging her insides in a photo booth.

“Kiss me again.” she softly pleaded, making Alex nearly groan at the way she was practically begging him. He caught her chin into a kiss, this time turning more hot and intense. Her hand drifted to hold the side of his neck, pulling him closer. The flashing light from the camera made the pair deepen the kiss.

Another bang on the booth made them smile through the kiss, slowly pulling away as they heard complaints from the angry couple. She giggled, pecking his swollen lips. “They’re gonna kick us out.” she murmured against his lips, grinning.

“Let them.”

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roxabellas · 13 days ago

Text

Heaven Tonight

｡･:*:･ﾟ༓･*˚⁺‧͙ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚₊✩｡˚☽

word count : 1957

warnings : cockwarming, unprotected sex, wet dream, sleep sex, dom!reader sub!alex (in dream), creampie

The faint whisper of the gentle breeze and the distant sound of the occasional car driving past were muffled as Alex shut your bedroom windows for the night. He crawled into the cool bedsheets next to you, the duvet draped lazily over your tangled bodies, the warmth and intimacy all-encompassing as he settled behind you, his chest pressed firmly against your back. The short, twiddly hairs on his chest always gave you a sense of comfort; the subtle scrape of them against your soft skin whenever he shifted slightly, reminding you that he's right there. He looped his strong arms around your waist tightly, the slightly raised inked skin from his Yorkshire Rose tattoo on his forearm pressing against your stomach as he held you.

Your body curved into his in a way that felt effortless, as if you were made to be held by him. He pressed a kiss to the back of your head, holding his face there for a moment as he breathed in the sweet smell of your honey-scented shampoo, before dipping his head into the crook of your neck, burying his face there. His lips brushed a few lazy kisses over your nape and jawline, another silent promise of deep love and comfort.

His right hand slowly moved down your torso as he continued with his languid kisses, gently slotting his fingers between your thighs and parting them just enough for him. The soft trail of kisses on the side of your neck stopped just as his fingers began rubbing lazy circles on your clit through your underwear, a small smile playing on his lips as he felt the slight damp spot in the centre. You let out a small exhale through your nose, somewhere between a laugh and a moan. “What're you doing?” you hummed, shifting slightly to give him better access.

Alex let out a low, content hum, not answering your question and instead murmuring, “Want to keep me warm, babe?”

“Mhm, please…” you drawled, your voice a soft mutter as he slowly slid your cotton knickers down your long legs before shuffling out of his own grey boxer shorts, tossing both the pieces of fabric aside onto the floor, quickly forgotten as he lifted your leg just enough to slip his half-hard cock inside your slick, inviting pussy. You sighed softly at the familiar feeling, the way the stretch was always so delicious no matter how many times you'd done this before, while he groaned as your muscles instinctively clenched around his thick length in welcome.

It wasn't about the sex; it never was when you did this. It was more about the intimacy, the closeness, the comfort that it brought you both from being connected in that way as you slept.

Even though it was usually just about the connection, it didn't stop the occasional teasing. You let out a little snicker as you clenched around him a few more times, and he huffed a laugh against your neck. “Behave, you,” he muttered, though his tone lacked any real bite. He gave your hip a light squeeze, pulling you back a bit closer against him before pressing one last kiss to your neck.

You fell into a comfortable silence, your breathing slowly syncing up as your bodies settled together, his right arm draped over your waist, fingers tracing absent patterns over your ribcage. “Goodnight, Al,” you whispered, your voice soft and warm as the sound of his gentle breathing and the slow pulse of his cock inside you lulling you to sleep.

“Goodnight, love,” he replied, his voice low and steady as he slowly drifted off. With that, you both let sleep claim you, tangled up together.

The room was still, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the blinds, painting pale lines across the opposite wall. Your breathing was steady as sleep held you both locked tightly in its quiet embrace. You lay snugly against him, your body a perfect fit against his as his arms stayed looped around your waist, holding you close as his soft exhales brushed against the back of your neck as his forehead stayed pressed against the back of your hair.

As the night deepened, Alex's mind began to wander, slipping into a vivid dream. You were straddling his hips, your movements tantalisingly slow as you rocked back and forth against his length. His tip pressed against the soft skin just above his belly button as your wet folds glided up and down the velvety underside of his cock, your teasing grin combined with your torturous movements melting him into a puddle of need. You were perched over him like a goddess, your hands resting on his strong chest, giving his nipple an occasional pinch or twist as you ground your hips back and forth slowly and deliberately.

“Is this what you wanted?” you asked in the dream, your voice like a soft melody. It was like hearing your voice through a veil, so close to how he remembered it. The words had the same warmth, same rhythm, but it felt strangely hollow. Like it wasn't fully real.

Alex could only nod, his dream-self captivated and all-encompassed. You weren't letting him inside you, just sliding your slick heat up and down along his dick, your teasing driving him closer to the edge. His hands itched to grab your hips, to push you down onto his aching cock the way he so desperately needed, but every time he tried to give in to his urges and reach up to your hips, you batted his hands away with a mocking laugh. “Not yet,” you teased, giving his left nipple a twist. “You'll take what I give you, Al.”

In the real world, in your bed, his body responded unconsciously. His cock was still nestled deep inside you from behind, and his arms tightened slightly around your waist as his hips instinctively began to shift, lazily grinding against your ass. A quiet, soft whimper escaped his lips, almost inaudible in the stillness of your bedroom.

In his dream, you leaned down, threading your hands through his messy hair, sweat-drenched hair as you kissed him hungrily. Your grinding picked up pace, your clit drawing lines up and down his thick cock, the friction pushing him closer and closer to a release he didn't know if he'd be able to reach. His desperation grew, the need to be inside you getting stronger and all-consuming.

Back in bed, his movements became more pronounced. His hips rolled against you in slow, rhythmic, shallow thrusts, his cock twitching and pulsing inside you with each sleepy thrust. His breathing quickened, short puffs brushing against the crook of your neck, but still, neither of you stirred.

Dream-you was relentless, keeping him right on the brink of the release he so deeply craved. “You're such a good boy for me, Al,” you cooed, your voice laced with teasing. “But not yet, baby. You can hold on for me. I know you can.”

His frustration in the dream translated into his even deeper urgency in real life. His thrusts grew firmer, his hips pressing more insistently against you as he humped you subconsciously, chasing the pleasure that his mind conjured in sleep. The warmth of your body against his, both in the dream and in real life, only amplified his need, his sleepy groans muffled against the soft skin your neck.

Finally, in the dream, you gave in. You sank down onto his aching, throbbing cock with a smirk, and the overwhelming sensation of your warm, wet pussy enveloping him shattered every ounce, though there was very little, of restraint he had left. His dream blurred into the real-life sensations, the vividness fading and bleeding into reality as his orgasm tore through him like a freight train.

In bed, his body tensed, and his movements stuttered, his arms loosening before tightening around you again as he came deep inside you, his cock pulsing with each spurt of his release. His breathing slowly evened out as he came down from his wet dream-induced orgasm, his face pressed into the crook of your neck as he drifts back deeper into sleep, both of you completely unaware of what had just happened.

You remained undisturbed, still sound asleep, your body warm and pliant against his as his softening cock kept his cum inside your pussy. The room returned to its previous stillness, the only sounds being your steady breathing and the occasional gentle rustle of the sheets as you both adjusted your positions in slumber.

The warm sun began filtering through the blinds, replacing the glow of the moonlight from the night before, the morning light casting rays across your cream-coloured bedroom wall. You stirred first, stretching slightly but careful not to disturb the warm, comforting weight of Alex's arm draped over your waist. You first felt him shift behind you, his chest pressed against your back, and as your consciousness started to seep in, you became aware of the sticky warmth between your thighs, and the unmistakable sensation of wetness inside you.

You propped yourself up on your side, looking over your shoulder behind you at where you were still joined. “Alex,” you murmured, your voice thick with sleep. His eyes fluttered open lazily, his eyebrows knitting together as he squinted, the bright morning light briefly stinging his eyes.

“Morning,” He mumbled, his voice gravelly with sleep. The grogginess soon faded away as he noticed the faint smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “What?”

Your smirk widened and you shifted again, subtly clenching your muscles around him. He was still inside you, and his cock gave a sleepy twitch in response. “Alex…” you said, dragging out his name teasingly, “did you…?”

His brain started to slowly catch up, and that's when he felt the warm stickiness inside her. His face flushed immediately. “No,” he denied it quickly, but the redness creeping up his neck to his cheeks said otherwise. And so did the cum inside you.

You laugh, shifting your hips and making his cock slip out of you, a small stream of his cum dripping onto your thigh. “You did!” you teased, turning onto your other side to face him, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest. “You had a wet dream.”

“I didn’t,” he protested weakly, though the evidence was right there. He quickly averted his gaze, suddenly very focused on the pattern of the duvet cover.

“You so did!” you let out a laugh, your tone playful rather than accusatory. “You actually had a wet dream.”

Alex groaned, burying his face in his hands. He sat up slightly, his back resting against the wooden headboard. “God, stop saying it like that.”

“What was it about?” You asked, rolling onto your stomach and resting your chin in your hands. “Was I in it?”

He pulled his hands from his face, resting them in his lap as he looked down at you. “Of course you were,” he said, the redness fading from his cheeks. “You were grinding on me, that's pretty much all it was.”

You raised your eyebrows a little bit. “Just grinding on you? That's it?”

He ran a hand through his messy, tousled hair, leaning his head back against the vertical wooden slats of the headboard as he looked up at the off-white coloured ceiling. “Yeah, but you weren't letting me put it in.”

“Yeah, well…” he rested his hands behind his head, crossing his legs lazily at his ankles. “You make it bloody hard not to.”

She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she gazed at him. “I can't believe you still have wet dreams,” she teased, her voice soft but filled with amusement.

｡･:*:･ﾟ༓･*˚⁺‧͙ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚₊✩｡˚☽

ive been wanting to write fics for so long but ive rarely been able to find the time to write any (which is why it's so short😭) but ive been working on this (thinking about it but not actually writing it) for a while. when i first had the idea i imagined it with fetus instead but then i wrote the first part and realised he obviously wouldn't have the tattoo then, so i guess this can be any time post 2013(?). i also know this probably isn't great, just close your eyes and pretend it isn't there x

#aahhhhhh #ignore any mistakes #(please)#alex turner x reader #alex turner x fem!reader #alex turner x you #alex turner fic #alex turner fanfic #alex turner smut

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g1rlken · 7 months ago

Text

┏ 𝐅𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬 ┐

1. Part, Alex turner x actress!reader

summary: ugly break up and working together

warnings: smear campaigns, Twitter incels, award season, depression

word count: 4.8k+

Relationships become a hurdle of choreographing well being when you’re going through a difficult period in life. The one person that’s supposed to be wholly yours becomes another face to mask with. Empathy feels good for a week, two weeks, a month. As the days would stack up it would just feel like a customised emotion, a weight. That’s how y/n felt, her relationship with Alex had seen a lot of ups and downs over their year and a half together. A lot of fights, long distances, miscommunications but it never weighed them down nor their relationship. They always came back stronger after a set back as such. However such shaky career hurdles were only ever seen by Alex, writer’s block, studio pressure, album press, billboard charts, the critics it was a coin toss on fate and he’d often land on the difficult side. But he had a lot of years in the industry and a well composed mind to these things.

Maybe her issues were difficult, Hollywood is eitherways a harsher ground for women. Especially the acting industry, she was facing method acting allegations by one of her elderly costars of old fashion. Not that method acting was concept of bad light in modern day cinema but the characters of the show were very demanding maybe some bitterness towards y/n however she never paid any mind to those when it started. Even her costars all took it lightly, the method acting questions started coming up in almost all promotions, either that or her relationship. She handled that with grace too, all until the emmys. The Emmys where she won one, a shining star in the tapestry of her young career. Amidst her speech a stand up show host had a set organised. Seemingly she wasn’t priorly informed about it being found dumbfounded on stage. In front of everyone, the same joke of being an alleged method actor made an imprint on her first ever Emmy. Everyone present just laughed like they would through a normal set, they laughed at her, she felt like the world ended. After that function she felt increasingly uncomfortable with herself, a laughingstock. Twitter was divided like it always is, she would just focus on those who added to the joke. Witty jabs. Variety articles behind y/l/n’s Emmy fiasco.

Alex tried. Alex tried really hard, he forced screens away from her. WiFi in their house only for certain hours and he’d supervise it, weekend getaways for her almost every weekend. She just seemed to not escape it, losing her appetite even. Alex was the cook between the two of them, meals would take hours and hours for her to get it down and he would sit with her without a complaint. He loved her truly unconditionally and he was aware it was genuinely hard for her. Such smear campaign was very hard to escape. When she started having sleep issues as well he forcibly suggested therapy. Y/n truly believed she wasn’t meant for therapy, she wasn’t ’therapy audience’ and he consoled her very hard into joining it. Eventually she did and it just added to the shitshow. Apparently the therapist found her difficult to work through, it lasted barely 2 weeks and the therapist referred her to someone else. It became public and her therapist’s statement was “The most difficult patient in all of my career.” Maybe it was the amateur hour for the therapist or maybe it wasn’t meant in a better light but social media smear campaign treated it like a festival.

As weeks progressed everything else seemed increasingly difficult. Especially Alex. Seeing his life, his new normal which would start and end with her well being and nothing would change with her mental state either. Alex was giving out so much of himself yet she couldn’t find it in herself to actually smile even. That guilt was worse than everything else. She let that guilt consume her for a while until she finally decided to do something about it.

That evening, after dinner she finally put a stone on her heart and decided to lay that conversation to him. Guiding him to sit across her on the sofa of their shared place she took his hands into hers “Alex, no one else has stood by me the way you have, these two whole months. It’s the worst thing that’s happened to me perhaps ever and you’ve been with me through it. Just how the cliches say it-like my rock.” She said patiently “I feel like I’m not making any progress but if it weren’t for you I would’ve been at a worse place and” she took in a shaky breath before continuing a long pause following something Alex had no idea of.

“Just how you’ve been around for me.” He said holding her hands in his right her “And what we are isn’t for cliches or for saying y/n, I love you and despite of you being at your lowest as long as I have you, I have all I need. We’ve had rough patches before we’ve been alright and we will be even-“

“Just…just let me finish yeah?” Y/n interrupted him looking down their hands because looking into his eyes which carried soft love was so much harder. “You’re giving away too much of yourself. You don’t see it but I do, you’ve made my well being some sort of a passion project of yours and I understand you want the best for me I really do. But I have to look out for you too, and, I feel like this isn’t fair to you. We’re not working out…we won’t.”

A very long silence followed as Alex stared at her comprehending that, “what?” he huffed in denial “what do you mean?” He asked as if it would change what she meant.

“Alex…” she brought his hands closer to her “you need to do better in life, better than this. You have so much potential to give out, into yourself, into your career and you’ve spent so much on me already. I can’t keep you for me like this…we should…part.”

“I am passionate about you what do you mean passion project? I am in love with you and I want to help you. Just how you’d help me don’t you see it? So you don't get to decide that for me and my potential. It’s mine.” Alex stated firmly.

“Exactly. It’s yours! You’re pouring it all out into me—you’re draining yourself-“

“None of that is for you to decide!” Alex stopped her sentence midway leaving her hands out of his to run his hands through his hair out of frustration.

“Fine…” y/n seemed bad with confrontation and she didn’t want to paint herself out to be a bad lover in his history books years from now but she didn’t know how else to not do that. He was hurting unknowingly. “But this is for me to decide and I have. W-we need to..” she couldn’t even find it in herself to finish that sentence. “Break up.”

“No.” Alex stated so casually like she just asked her a very simple question, as if it was a question. “No we do not. We don’t need to do any such thing.”

“Alex…” she sighed looking away, his denial was breaking her heart. Tears formulated her eyes as she thought about how much this will hurt him.

“What Alex? No: I’m refusing.” He shrugged, very nonchalantly shrugging. Declining her wish as he didn’t even look at her.

“Alex please” she said as she gently cupped his face to look at her, “you don’t realise this…you have been putting yourself through so much for me. This-this is difficult I know, but you’ll be better after this.”

“Y/n, listen to me” he shifted in his seat to face her. “You don’t get to decide this for me. You are going through a tough time and I will not leave you.”

“You haven’t written a piece in two months..you don’t even go to the studio. You barely leave me alone to work with anything else!” She pointed out, all these bits of his habits were vanishing out and she had noticed it all. Being an early riser he’d go for a run around the block but nowadays he’d just time how many hours she had slept because of her issues. Time her vitamins and supplements. Plan things with her and only her as if he wasn’t supposed to have a life of his own.

“I have a writer’s block!” He exclaimed growing increasingly hurt and frustrated that this is how she viewed him helping her. She sounded like a burden to herself but he had never considered one to himself and he hated that she felt that way.

“Because you’re so occupied with me!” She exclaimed back with a sigh rubbing her eyes and looked away, uncrossing her legs on the couch.

“That’s just your assumption y/n you don’t know how my process works and you shouldn’t come to conclusions about things you don’t know.” Alex tried to reason with her even if she was right he couldn’t care less. She was important to him and she needed his full attention.

“Could you please just listen to me Alex…I don’t want to stay within this-“ y/n replied trying to find the right words.

“With me. You don’t want to stay with me.” He rephrased her sentence giving it to her as raw as he fathomed.

“Yes.” Taking in a deep breath she finally let it out because he wasn’t listening to her without brutal honesty. “Yes I don’t.”

“That just isn’t true-that’s not right you’re too tired today that’s all.” Alex replied, he wanted to point it maybe she was also hungry but he kept that for more persuasion.

“Alex, please.” Y/n breathed taking her head in her hands because none of her reasonings got into her head.

He just shook his head in response as the silence weighed heavy between the two of them. Tears streamed down her face as they sat there, Alex was more fine with this tension than he was with being without her. “We just can’t…y/n.” Alex said.

“I’m really sorry” she said as she looked back up at him teary eyed. The tears seemingly made everything difficult for sure. “It’s going to be alright…” she wiped her tears and looked away again. His sad gaze was so gutting to look at and talk at the same time it felt like it would stick with her, hauntingly, even after she leaves.

“But it’s alright already” He urged shifting closer to her and wrapping an arm around her trying to meet her eyes but she kept her gaze fixated at the coffee table.

“That’s what you want to think” she said softly with a heavy heart. “I don’t want to do this either Alex…it’s for the best.”

If it were for the best he wouldn’t be feeling his heart sink lower and his breath shortening. His vision becoming fuzzy already as tears brimmed in his eyes as well. But he wanted to handle this more delicately. “It isn’t, you know it isn’t.” He sniffled. “This isn’t what I want and I know it’s not what you want either, why do you feel this way? This need to run?”

“I’m not running Alex” I’m setting you free, she didn’t say out loud “I’ve been thinking about this a lot and…and this is going to hurt. It will hurt for a while but you’ll get over it.”

“Get over you? Y/n I don’t plan on leaving you” he said still drowning in denial. Stern denial and blind faith he could fix this mess, if he talked to her more. He could fix this mess, if he asked her sleep on it. He could fix this mess, if he held her closer. So he did. “Y/n look at me, look at me.” He forced her to face him. “This isn’t a rational solution. You are going through so much and you are thinking too much but this is a mistake. What we have is bigger than our problems-“

“Alex.” She stopped him midway, staring into his teary eyes with hers the same “This is my problem. You try to make to make it ours, helping me through it is one thing but this is taking up too much effort and energy in your life don’t you get that?”

Alex had never felt this defeated all his life. No reasoning seemed to get to him. He couldn’t digest that she let such thoughts mature for about a week and never once preferred to talk to him about it but just became sure about it. When the fact that she felt so distant from him to not even bring it up brought him to flowing tears. Taking his face into his hands he cried. Breaking down, y/n never saw him like this and she had seen him go through supposedly tougher situations. “You can’t do this to me” he said, his voice parched and eyes red.

The thought of leaving the next day in the morning, sleeping in different bedrooms and hugging him a goodbye at breakfast was so done now. If she didn’t leave now she won’t be able to leave ever. Just holding his face in her hands as her tears streamed down her face reciprocating his. She couldn’t even muster the courage to mouth a sorry. She glanced away at her keys and wallet by the side table. It hit her like a truck when she realised there won’t be a goodbye tomorrow but today. This very moment. She slowly got her car keys and wallet and put them on her side. “It’s going to be okay…” she said sighing. Cupping his face in her hands as he reciprocated the action holding her hands and staring into her eyes.

“No it’s not” he replied with heavy grief laced in his voice. Why wouldn’t she do anything to change this? Why would she let it be this way? He felt helpless to how she firm she was about this. He placed his lips onto hers holding her closer by her waist as she cradled his face. It time were to stop he’d prefer death over letting her go. As they kissed he realised how temporary this moment will be and how this memory will bite him with sharp teeth of yearning. He couldn’t stomach the thought that she would be a memory. Visit him in nostalgia and come up in conversations and that would be all?

Eventually she pulled away from their kiss, wiping his tears with her hands as her own surfaced her face too. His dreary eyes had such an effect upon she couldn’t bare it and she softly kissed him again. His hands would still not let her go. As moments passed in holding each other and the kisses broke she realised it was time. “Goodbye, Alex.” She spoke with a voice barely above whisper because the sound of her voice breaking was louder.

His eyes widened as he realised she was leaving, now. He had barely come to terms with the fact that she was leaving. He held her hand back as she tried standing up. “You’re leaving?” His voice broke as he asked that. Y/n didn’t have it in herself to answer him what he already knew she just looked at him apologetically. Apology she knew she didn’t deserve at this very moment. “You can’t just leave right now-think about this. Sleep on it, if you still want to go leave next week?”

His negotiations seemed to know no bounds and the bargain was to get him nowhere. It would probably make him worse if she stayed. If she stayed after this. “Alex-“

“You can’t even drive in this state y/n absolutely not-if you want a break from me we could just sleep in separate bedrooms I won’t bother you-“ he tried to come up with all possible alternatives.

Her heart sank further realising how further he'd go just to make her stay. It solidified her decision of her leaving because he would always chose her above himself, even at the expense of himself hurting. She had to love him enough to let him go. “Alex…” she breathed stopping him midway “I have to.” Shaking her head she stood up to leave but didn’t see him stand up at the corner of her eyes. Somewhat relived it wouldn’t be harder to walk out that door perhaps. As she clutched her keys and wallet she felt a tug at her leg.

Looking behind to see Alex on his knees for her, it was perhaps the worst sight ever her tears reciprocating his again before he even spoke. “Y/n I beg of you please don’t go” he said as he wrapped his arms around her legs, on his knees weeping for her.

Trying to remain balanced on her footing against his grip, “don’t do this” she pleaded as her voice broke and she knelt to his level. “Please don’t make this harder.” She cried choking on her words and held his hands. Alex held her hands back very tightly.

“It doesn’t have to be hard at all” he spoke through tears as she sat close to him he brought her closer naturally settling onto his lap. As she cried and wiped his tears more just streamed down his face, “We can make it out of this y/n please, trust me please have some faith in us”

The desperation in his voice, the tears and his words it was all so gutting. This would me one of those moments she would perhaps never recover from. If she ever finds happiness again she felt like it would be at the expense of this, it would be hard for him. Very hard, but he would do so much better if she left. It was evident how much he was willing to give even to the last moment, it was concerning. “You can’t love someone this hard” y/n held his face in her hands and told him sternly “I am very miserable and I’m bringing you the same pain-over and over. This is it Alex. You won’t hurt again at the hands of me and I’m sorry it is this way…” she told him. He had no words but tears to shed. He sat absolutely defeated with her entangled in his arms. Neither he said anything nor did she.

Y/n held him back wrapping her arms around him giving him a hug or maybe hiding his teary face from herself and likewise. Rubbing his back as she hugged him sitting upon his lap. He buried his face by her neck holding her close. If the world were to end he wouldn’t care because it already did for him. The thought that this was probably the last time she would be in his arms like this made his agony worsen.

They just held each other for almost a whole hour, her head resting by his chest as they sat intertwined. The silent and slow understanding of the end. Some picture frames on the coffee table and the wall ahead, somewhat blurry because of the tears, those memories came back so much clearer. There will be no more and these will just remain pictures. Alex let out a shudder of a breath at that thought. “Where will you go?” He asked her in a tone just above a whisper.

“To my dad’s.” She replied softly without looking back up at him nor attempting to shift away from his grip. Last of his warmth. Theirs.

“He was just starting to like me…” he spoke as a soft chuckle escaped him through the tears and y/n’s followed. He would often joke with her that her dad ‘hated him’ because he was rather stern to him and she would always tell him otherwise. In truth he may be but what did it all matter now? He looked down at her in his arms when she let out a little laugh too but then quivering, broke down in his arms. He kissed the top of her head with silent consoling and holding her with the last of his love she’d let him give her.

The night wouldn’t last forever just like them and she finally left. With much courage and a heavy heart out of his arms and then their shared place. Alex couldn’t watch her leave and he did not. The last glimpse he caught of her face before he kissed the top of her head. He would think back to this for a long while and he wanted to remember her beautiful face and not her leaving him. She left and the door shut, on their house and their life together.

A job is a job. However excruciating and beaten down, it finds you on your face but you’re bound to return. Y/n did as well. Over half a year, she started working again. Lived with her dad to make a comeback to the one place that would have ever even after everything. Her career made a turn eventually the Twitter smear campaigns wear themselves out. Talent comes through in Hollywood despite its vice like grip over its finest stars. Y/n’s project worked out, she avoided the award season despite being nominated but she did walk promotional red carpet for her new project. Time heals.

Time is subjected to heal everything even with some ignited hatred if that be to overcome the hurt. Alex, he grew to despise y/n. The first few months hurt so much, everywhere in the house he’d find his things even after she collected them. There were pieces of her everywhere. Their pictures were what hurt the least. Even after he moved out of the place whose sunrise constantly reminded of her absence of his arm. He kept finding her things everywhere. The longing could surround him for long until he turned all of that sadness into a harsher emotion. It was difficult to teach himself to decline her thoughts, hate her. But he did and that’s when he wasn’t as sad.

When the devil can’t reach you it keeps you on Alex turner’s bad side. Or perhaps send you to him. Just as now, y/n was doing her friend of years, Richard, a favour. Moreover Richard pleaded and begged her to do so. He was making a music video for the arctic monkeys and the studio’s PR team members wanted y/n specially or pull the cord of the entire project. Since her career was booming it would be perfect publicity for the upcoming single and her history with Alex. Y/n would rather not indulge in such at all, especially with Alex. Richard assured her that Alex wouldn’t even be on the set for the music video and it was set in Ireland’s grasslands. Too far for Alex to attend anyways since he wasn’t in the music video.

First day on set after she lands there y/n finds herself treated with warmth with the core team. The operator, the camera team, the crew most of them were faces she’d previously known. Everyone ‘glad’ to see her working again was a comment she was irked with for a while ever since she’d returned to working. They always said it in a comforting tone as if she’d was coming back from jail or so, such patient like sympathy was difficult but not anymore. Very comfortably used to it. Superficial condolences in the best way perhaps.

“Missed you fuckface!” She laughed as she hugged Richard on the set and he joined along. Hugging her back, they’d met after a long while.

“I did too, you jerk.” He laughed and ruffled her hair a bit, she nudged away in response and their inside jokes kept ongoing. Through the conversations it swayed back to being on set and Richard worked her through the video.

“This place is so remote I’m so glad you agreed because nobody else would’ve come this far and Alex wanted just you.” Richard mentioned as he talked her through the cinematic of it.

“Wait, Alex did?” Y/n asked furrowing her brows together. Richard had stated to her that Alex wouldn’t be there at all so him wanting her for the video, ‘just her’ was somewhat unbelievable.

“The record did…it’s kind of the same thing.” Richard replied.

“It’s not” she shrugged given she knew the context conversations between Alex and the record from when they were together. “I’m just so glad he’s not here”

“He’s not a bad person you know” Richard accounted for him thinking the breakup was his fault given how rigid y/n was not wanting to sign up for an AM project.

“Oh no of course not” he’s an angel, she didn’t say out loud. Alex kept whatever happened between them through the break up private. He didn’t even paint her out like someone who wronged him to their mutual friends, when he could’ve done so.

“Then why do you have such a problem with him being here?” Richard asked with voice laced of confusion and curiosity.

“I don’t have a problem just too much-“ drama? Bad memories? Good memories? Regret? All too much perhaps.

“Well that’s great then because he might be here.” Richard spoke hurriedly despite his promise he was just making the video he couldn’t dictate who could and could not be on set. Especially not the lead singer.

“What? What do you mean?” She asked with a dejected scoff, she believed him when he’d promised that Alex won’t be on set. “What do you mean here Richard you told me-“

“I mean here as in he may be around but he’s here for now-“ Richard fumbled with his words mentally preparing for the telling off y/n would inflict on him soon enough.

“Here as in?” She asked raising sharp brow at him crossing her arms.

“As in Ireland…” Richard trailed off and took a cue to hastily add the next information as she took in a sharp breath “Could also be on set”

“On set?!” She exclaimed “right now?”

“I’m not sure okay I don’t know-the video script had some changes and he was needed for some pretext or something. Also, y/n. He’s written this song, it’s his band—I can’t just say no to him if he wants to be on set.” Richard explained. The bickering went on back and forth for a while until a voice from behind broke them.

“Richard!” Alex exclaimed as he paced up to the man, all colour drained and also made her flustered when the air shifted with Alex’s hasty walk to Richard who she stood right beside. Alex greeted Richard with a hug. “This is a beautiful location, fantastic work yeah?”

“Ah thanks mate.” Richard said with a smile as they made a small talk about the set and think pieces. He tried to include y/n in the conversation too but Alex didn’t once look to the side as if she wasn’t even present there. Richard talked about some of the crew to Alex and then, wanting to relay it slowly. “And y/n, you know her of course”

“Right yeah” Alex scoffed and made a somewhat bothered expression, irritated in an instant. He did so as if she truly wasn’t present there. Intimidatingly he stood with his hands on his waist, leather jacket, the classic Alex. Soon enough without casting her as much as a glance he took his leave from the conversation.

She wasn’t ready for this conversation, not that it was a conversation at all. Y/n’s little ‘hi there’ was blatantly ignored by him too but it was all expected. She had planned to not cross paths with him but hypothetically after all that went down she had anticipated him being cold like this. She wasn’t mentally prepared for it, not today. However she didn’t hold it against him by all means he had the right to act this way. Even if she wanted to be somewhat offended by his harshness his pleading face, desperate tone, begging her not to leave on his knees all of it just came flooding back to sink her in regret. If the roles were reversed she would want to be far away from Alex and that’s what she would grant him. Keep her distance.

“So…” Richard trailed off pulling her out of her train of thoughts to talk about the unsolicited harshness. To an outsider, the breakup had been almost 6 months ago and neither of them made any big grievances about it so it was all very odd.

“Don’t.” Y/n shook her head not willing to go into this discourse.

I’ll do a few parts to this series let me know if you want to be tagged ;)

Comments and thoughts will be so so so very appreciated please please please let me know

#alex turner x y/n #alex turner x reader #alex turner x reader fluff #alex turner x you #alex turner x fem!reader #alex turner x famous reader #Alex turner x reader angst #alex turner imagine #alex turner fanfic #alex turner

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youresodarkbabe · 8 months ago

Text

i'm listening, ready to learn (prof!a. turner x reader)

smut.

warnings: prof!al x reader (yes this is influenced by the recents), age gap, piv, dom-ish al, oral (f!receiving)

word count: 2.6k

took me a while but im back!! hi :)

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"it's definitely not the worst i've seen."

those four words were like a knife to the heart. you put everything you had into those pictures, worked on them for weeks, refining, editing, reshoots, and that still didn't please him. you gave him everything you had to offer, and it still wasn't enough. you could cry on the spot, but his voice pulled you out of your mind's abyss.

"do you want a second chance? i mean, i think you could do much better than this, not to be too harsh."

you had to stop yourself from showing your sheer happiness, you couldn't believe this. you try your hardest to compose yourself before speaking.

"yes, please," you mutter quietly, your voice coming out almost like a squeak. he found it endearing.

he sets your portfolio on his desk and stands up, sliding it over to you with a smile before taking a sip of his coffee.

"tell me if this crosses a line, but would you like to do the shoots at my studio? i have everything you need and more there, i think it'd be very useful."

reality hits you hard. you and your professor at his studio, all alone. if you weren't already trying to conceal your emotions, you were definitely doing it now. ignoring the heat pooling between your legs, you nod, not trusting yourself to speak, afraid of what would come out of your mouth.

"alright," alex grabs a pen from his shirt pocket and jots down his phone number and studio's address on a post it note and sticks it on the top of your portfolio, "how's this friday? is 7 good for you?"

you nod again, eyes fixed on his. "'s perfect, sir."

the sun was shining perfectly, his eyes illuminating like gold. he was so, so beautiful and it took everything you had to break that eye contact and walk out of the class.

come friday, and you're already panicking. you can't find any of the things you need, your reference pictures are shit in hindsight and your roommate had accidentally broken the lens you needed for your camera. regardless, you show up to the studio twenty minutes too early with all you could carry, hoping he wouldn't hate you for your lack of equipment.

he opens the door in a red shirt, a few buttons undone. you couldn't help but picture what he'd look like with the shirt off.

"you're early, doll," he lets you into the studio and shows you where to keep your stuff. "i would've rushed a bit more when cleaning if i knew you'd be so early."

your cheeks heat up as you take in his words.

"i can always come back later?" you say, almost immediately packing your stuff back up, only for alex to stop you with a hand holding your wrist firmly in place.

"it's fine, promise. just a tad unexpected."

he gives you that classic smile and all the worry in your heart seems to melt away. he asks if you'd like some space to set up, and as much as you want to spend time with him, you know it'd be best if you focused, so you say yes. alex darts off to the other side of the room where you see him fiddling with the portfolio from your previous meeting. you tear away your focus from him and set up your camera and all you'd need for the shoot.

he shuts it abruptly, the sound making you jump, his voice instantly soothing your mind.

"did you bring any references?"

shit, you think to yourself. you hated the references you originally had, you left them at home. you had absolutely nothing.

alex tuts, setting the portfolio back down and walking to you, tapping your chin so you'd look up at him, which you do.

"i can see you gettin' in your head. you don't have to worry, we can figure this out, okay?"

"okay."

you and alex stand there for a moment, faces so close, almost close enough for you to close the gap— to kiss him, but you choose against it. alex again seems to be the one to snap out of the haze first, taking a few steps away, clearing his throat. "i, uh, have some pictures you could use as a reference."

right. the photoshoot. that's why you're here.

"you wanna go get 'em for me?" alex asks as he sits down on the chair in front of your camera. you say yes, waiting on him to tell you where to go.

"just that shelf there, the gray one."

you hold the hefty photo album in your hand and hand it to him, standing behind him, leaning in to look at the pictures.

calling them gorgeous would be an understatement. you had been passionate for photography for as long as you could remember and you had never seen pictures that had captured the human essence that beautifully.

alex points at a specific picture and looks up at you, beaming.

the photograph looked simple enough, but there was something to it, something that made it transcend normalcy, the model looked ethereal. it was in black and white, and the standout feature was the bright red lipstick mark on the model's neck, you could immediately picture alex like that, he'd look so perfect.

you try ignoring how wet just the thought of him like that makes you and as if on cue, he says your name, you look away from the picture and back at him.

"i can see the ideas in your eyes, i think we'd best get started, hm?"

you let out a shaky breath and are about to go to your camera, before you pause and turn to him.

"am i.. do i have to take the pictures of you?"

and for the first time, you see a blush grace your professor's perfect face.

"that was the plan, yeah. we can always find a different picture to replicate if you want, it's fine, i don't mind—"

"no! i mean, it's fine. i'm alright with taking the pictures of you, sir."

alex runs a hand through his hair and licks his lips, "alright, okay,". he smiles at you again, making your heart melt and you feel yourself getting soaked. "think i should change this shirt, though. what do you think, sweetheart?"

based on the look on his face, you can tell he didn't mean to let the nickname slip. you'd be lying if you said you didn't love the way how naturally it rolled off his tongue, though. his accent made the word go straight to your core.

"you can change if you'd like."

he mumbles a quiet 'yeah', and goes off into the corner of the room, unbuttoning his shirt as he walks, unaware of how your eyes are fixed onto him. he slips the shirt off and turns to you, holding two shirts in either of his hands.

"black or white?"

you eye him up and down, replying despite being completely distracted.

"white."

he puts the shirt on as he walks back to the seat, you avoid eye contact because who knows what he'd say if you kept staring.

he sits down and you look back down at the reference picture, one question filling your mind.

"sir?"

he hums in response, fixing the camera slightly.

"the lipstick mark. do i have to—"

"if you want. it's not needed, you don't have to."

the second you hear alex say you can kiss him, you grab your red lipstick and apply it, not noticing how enamored alex is. he watches on as you swipe the lipstick along your bottom lip, wanting nothing more than to feel them against his, but at the same time, terrified that you don't see him the same way.

you stand in between alex's legs, one of his hands on your waist as you lean in and press your lips to the side of his neck, under his jaw. you hear his breath hitch as you pull away, the grip on your waist getting firmer.

"it doesn't look good, can i redo it?" you ask, just so you could kiss him again. alex nods and hands you his old shirt to wipe the lipstick off with. you kiss his neck again, this time with your lips parted, your teeth lightly grazing his pulse point.

alex's eyes fall shut and his mouth hangs open, a quiet groan gracing your ears. with his eyes still shut, he moves his other hand to your waist, pulling you closer to him. "that one good enough for you?", he asks, his hands moving to your back, wrapping around you.

"no, i think i need to kiss you again." you mutter, dipping your head even closer to his. alex doesn't hold back, this time. he leans in and kisses you, standing up and pulling away to kiss your cheek, laughing at the slight red tint he leaves.

"'m i right in assumin' my lips are red too, now?"

you nod as you tangle your hands in his hair, kissing him again, deeply, tongue and teeth clashing with no regard for anything but each other.

alex's hands slip down to your thighs, tapping on them and instinctively you jump into his grasp, letting him carry you with his hands planted firmly under your ass. he pulls away again, dipping his head to your neck, sucking, biting, licking— anything that makes you feel good. you feel how hard he is through your jeans, and you grind against him, making him moan along your collarbone.

"d'you wanna go to my room, baby?", he asks in between kisses. your mind is too overwhelmed with him to respond, so you just tug on his hair, hoping he'd take the message, which he does.

you can barely focus on where he's taking you, working on unbuttoning his shirt, not realising what alex takes with him into his room.

he lays you down on his bed, it dipping when he settles on his knees by your side, letting you unbutton his shirt. he shrugs it off, smiling at how you look at him, completely obsessed with you. he slides his hands under your shirt, waiting for you to let him know it was okay to take it off, which you do with a moan. you're grinding against his thigh now, letting him take your shirt off. while he's there, he also takes your bra off, swearing under his breath at the sight of your tits. he cups them, twisting your nipples between his fingers, watching as they harden, taking one into his mouth.

he sucks on it before pulling off with a pop, kissing all over your chest until he reaches the waistband of your jeans. he undoes the button and pulls them off slowly, along with your soaking wet panties, both joining the growing pile of clothes on his floor.

alex runs a finger through your folds and pops it into his mouth, humming as he tastes you.

your hips roll into his as you whine, "sir, i need you, please," you begged, and alex simply couldn't say no to you.

alex strips down fully in front of you, and just the sight of his cock makes you squirm. he was bigger than you'd imagined him being. trying to convince yourself that you could take him, you watch as he slides back in between your legs and places his arms on either side of your head. you can't help yourself from reaching out for his cock, stroking it and playing with the tip. his arms almost give in as he groans straight into your ear.

he moves one of his hands to pry yours away from his cock, "if you pull somethin' like that again, i'll make sure to leave you here, just like this. got it?"

the harshness in his voice makes you clench around nothing, you nod rapidly, biting your lip to keep quiet.

"good girl," alex mutters as he aligns himself with your aching hole, pushing in as slowly as possible, both of you moaning as he bottoms out. his hand goes to your clit, rubbing it in figure eights as slowly as possible as he pulls out almost completely, only to slam back in.

your hands go to his back, nails digging into his skin as he thrusts. he had a plan— he was going to take it slow, be as gentle as possible— but it all went to shit the second he saw the way your tits moved with every thrust.

he speeds up, going faster with every thrust, eyes flitting between your face and your tits. his fingers work your clit like magic and your back arches into him, tits pressing against his chest as he hits the perfect spot. you moan his name loudly, biting into his shoulder to muffle your noise. he strokes your hair softly, slowing down just a bit to kiss your cheek.

"feel good, princess?" he asks, his voice sweeter than sugar.

"so, so, so good, fuck—" you feel yourself getting closer and closer and alex can feel it too. you clench around him before you see white, the pleasure of it all taking over as you cum hard. alex fucks you through it, getting closer and closer to his peak.

just as he's about to cum, he pulls out, slightly too late. his cum spurts all over your thighs, stomach and cunt, but you're too fucked out to care.

"that was so good, love, you did so, so well for me."

he kisses your collarbone again, moving lower and lower, eventually settling with his face in between your thighs. he pushes the cum off of your stomach and thighs and into your cunt with his fingers, twisting them inside you. surprised, you tug on his hair, pulling him to look at you.

"i got you, good girl, don't worry, okay?"

you nod as alex pulls his fingers out and slides them into your mouth, making you suck them clean— which you do.

he kisses your inner thigh before finally licking a stripe up your worn pussy, making direct eye contact as he does so. his lips attach to your clit, teeth grazing against it as he flicks it with his tongue, eventually moving his thumb to do that job for him. he slides his tongue into you, tasting you as best as he can, moaning into your cunt. the vibrations drive you crazy, hips bucking into his mouth as he licks into you relentlessly.

his nose nudges your clit as you feel your peak getting closer once more, legs wrapping around his head as you cum again, letting him clean you up with his gentle kitten licks. alex looks up at you through his messy hair, laughing as you pry him away from your overstimulated cunt. he eventually gives in, moving away and kissing his way back up to your face.

the two of you sit there in silence for a while, the only sounds you hear is alex's quiet breathing as you run your hands through his hair.

"'m sorry," he mumbles against your lips. "you're my student, this isn't right, i shouldn't have—"

you press your lips against his once more, softer this time, less starved, less desperate. you kiss him as if you can see more of these kisses coming your way in the future.

"i can see you getting in your head, alex." he chuckles at the callback to what he had told you earlier, hiding his head in the crook of your neck. "i want this to work. i think if we tried, and if we're careful, it will."

alex takes a deep breath in, sitting up next to you, gently stroking your stomach as he presses another kiss to your neck.

"it better work, doll."

you feel yourself starting to drift asleep, only waking up to the feeling of alex's body leaving yours.

"what are you doing?" you ask quietly, voice too hoarse speak normally.

alex grabs what he took with him earlier, that object you couldn't quite make out, and waves it in front of your eyes. that fucking camera.

"just stay still, love," he says as he snaps a few pictures of you, smiling at the stills.

"so.. are those getting me my A?"

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anyways.. sextape fic soon!!

#alex turner smut #alex turner fanfic #alex turner fic #alex turner x fem!reader #smut #cookie cooks #alex turner x reader #alex turner x you #youresodarkbabe #prof al smut

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joekeeryswife · 9 months ago

Note

hi hihi can u do an age gap fic w alex - like both alex and reader are famous and reader gets a ton of hate for dating him and alex js comforts reader 😕

Age Gap - a.t

a/n: hey loves! i haven’t written for alex in ages! my requests are open for him so please send me some through, enjoy 🫶🏼 y/n is 26 and Alex is 38

you had been with Alex for over a year and a half but only just recently announced it. you knew that you both would get hate for it but you didn’t realise the extent of hate you would receive. you had a big following, you were a famous supermodel and an influencer and met Alex when you were at one of the music release parties and hit it off straight away.

you’d gotten hate before, being a model came with the thousands of people hating on you just for being yourself but it never got to you because you knew that these people were either jealous or just bored and you never even looked at their comments because it wasn’t worth it.

there had been speculation of you and Alex being together your whole relationship which never bothered you, you didn’t feel the need to explain yourself when people would ask questions about it but you and Alex were both sick of not being able to go out in public and do normal stuff together.

Alex had gone out to the studio a few hours ago to do some recording and you took the opportunity to look through the comments of your post. you weren’t shocked at you getting hate but shocked at the amount of hate you were receiving.

your post was cute, a few pictures of you and Alex in a photobooth together which showed how much you were in love and you were upset that people didn’t agree. there were obviously hundereds of lovely comments, people saying how great you looked together, how loved up you looked but they were overwhelmed with the thousands of hate comments.

yn.yln: 🤍 @AlexTurner

View 104,628 comments

honeymoon: babies🥹

yourbestfriend: surprised i could keep this quiet 🤫

ynfan01: YAY OMFG

ynfan5183: NEVER BEEN SO EXCITED IN ALL MY LIFE

arcticm0nkeys: ew wth. Alex should be with someone older than this girl, isn’t she like 20 or something?

fan61838: y/n is so gorgeous i can’t deal! Alex is a lucky guy.

user0183: no one wants you here, you shouldn’t be with someone like Alex. he deserves so much better than you.

user163: wtaf is this. why would he want her?

yn.alexfan163: the update we have all been waiting for🤭

user74: no because tell me why alex chose her? she is way too young.

monkeys5363: our boy looks so happy, they deserve the world 🥰

user260: please leave y/n, you don’t deserve alex.

monkeysfan: alex looks so happy guys, leave them be 🫶🏼

ynswife: they’re so in love🫶🏼

alexturnershair: don’t even they looks so happy🥹

user54: these photos are vile. Alex honey we forgive you for choosing her but please leave. you deserve someone so much better than y/n.

your eyes filled with tears and you quickly put your head in your hands. the hate never usually got to you but this was a whole new level. were these people right? did alex really deserve someone better? were you really too young for him? your mind was filled with a million questions. what if alex decided that you were too young for him and that he deserved someone better than you?

a few tears spilled down your cheeks, this was awful. you had never felt so pick on up until now. yes you were a lot younger than him but that didn’t mean you weren’t mature enough. it wasn’t like you were underage, you were a full grown adult and these people were picking on you because you were younger than alex?

your mind was going so crazy that you didn’t even hear Alex come through the front door. he had even called out to you and got worried when he got no response. he found you sat curled up on the sofa, your small sobs could be heard and his body filled with worry.

“sweetheart? what’s happed?” he quickly sat down next to you and pulled your body into his. he kissed your forehead and rubbed his hand up and down your back soothingly. he heard you sniffle as you tried to calm yourself down but it was no use, a sob escaped you making his heart break. “take a deep breathe, talk to me honey”

you tried to regulate your breathing, listening to his heartbeat as you hugged him closer. “you’re gonna leave me” he was confused, where has this come from? it was completely out of character for you and he had never ever seen you like this before. “what are you on about baby, i’m not going to leave you” he felt your arms squeeze his waist.

you pulled away so you could look at him, his face was filled with concern and confusion. “i was reading the comments on our photo” he sighed, he knew something like this would happen when you announced your relationship but he didn’t think it would make you cry like this. “you shouldn’t read them sweetheart, you know them people are just jealous” his thumb reached out to stroke your tear stained cheeks.

“i know but they were all saying how you deserved so much better than me and how im way too young for you. that you deserve someone who’s closer to you in age and it just got my mind going. maybe you do deserve better than me” now his heart had full on shattered. you sounded so vulnerable and scared and the look on your face made it even worse. you just looked so sad and he hated that. deep down he was fuming that these people had made you cry but he didn’t want to show you that.

“do you really think i listen to what the comments have to say? do you think i let my so called fans dictate my life? i don’t listen to them. they can’t decide who’s good for me and who’s not, they don’t even know me. and if i had an issue with your age i wouldn’t of dated you in the first place, it isn’t like you’re a minor. you’re an adult same as what i am. i know it’s hard to not read the comments but i really don’t give a shit about what they say” his eyes were soft as he looked at you, he hated that these people had made you this upset.

“i love you and those dickheads can just fuck off. you are the only girl for me, yes i’ve had relationships in the past but i’ve never ever felt like this and we don’t need their input, we never did before so why listen now” he lent in and gave you a quick kiss on the lips. “now i bet there were some nice comments in there, they can’t be all bad surely” you showed him your phone which was still showing the post.

he looked through the comments and shook his head as he read the bad ones. “most of these people don’t even follow me, they’re just doing it because they want attention and they want to hurt you but don’t let them get to you, they’re just a bunch of assholes who don’t have a life” he passed your phone back to you and pulled you into him again.

“you’re too pretty to cry honey, i love you and that’s all that matters. no more looking at these silly comments” he felt you nod “i love you too” he kissed your forehead softly.

#fanfiction #imagines #alex turner x fem!reader #alex turner x y/n #alex turner x reader imagines #alex turner x you #alex turner masterlist #alex turner fluff #alex turner imagines #alex turner imagine #alex turner x reader #alex turner #alex turner angst #alex turner one shot #alex turner arctic monkeys #alex turner fanfic #alex turner fic #alex turner blurb

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junedenim · 3 months ago

Text

what it takes to say goodnight

just him & his girls

warnings: dad!alex, fluff, smut, piv, fingering, mild breeding kink, & so on...

word count: 4.4k

He nearly trips over the cat when he walks in. He mutters curse words to himself before picking Pepper—the cat—up before it runs out the front door. Pepper has always been a calm kitty and she takes well in Alex's arms, though they are full and he struggles through the door before he can finally put everything, including Pepper, down on the floor. She tangles in his legs before running off back into the house.

Alex closes the front door roughly causing one of the magnets that holds a picture of the girls up to fall on the floor loud enough to alert the other residents of the house that he is home.

"Sounds like someone's home," he hears you announce followed by the sudden noise of pattering feet.

He rounds the corner, greeted by two blurs rushing him like linebackers. As always, Willow is quick to talk her mouth going a mile a minute, shouting, "Come look what I made today! Pick me up, daddy, pick me up! Come on!" He can't even keep track of what she is saying most of the time, her mouth going a mile a minute.

Contrasting her twin sister, Wren, his quiet little girl, tugs on his pant leg to get his attention. They've always been this way, even when you were pregnant with them. Willow would kick away and Wren would suck her thumb. Wren speaks when spoken to, preferring to perform motions to express her opinions. Unless it's vegetables, then she cries and yells, "Yuck!"

To combat both girls' interests, he bends down and picks them both up. They are just on the edge of being too heavy for Alex to pick both up at once. But maybe he'll wait until the next birthday to stop doing this. Wren curls into him while Willow hangs off his neck still yapping, "I want mac & cheese for dinner. Mummy said we can so you have to let us. Wen wants it too. Say it, Wen." Willow has always called Wren "Wen." It's adorable and Alex and you can't bear to ever correct it.

Alex turns to Wren, nudging her with a bounce to show her some attention and get her answer. "I want mac & cheese," she says robotically as if Willow trained her to say it.

"Really?" Alex questions. He looks toward you, sitting on the living room rug and watching this exchange. You share a silent laugh with him. You're calm, and he never understands how you managed to hold that through the whole day with the girls. He loves them like nothing else ever but, man, do they tire him out.

"Swear," Willow answers for Wren. "Mummy also said you'd play dolls with us."

You laugh out loud. "I never said that, Will."

Willow thinks otherwise. "Well, maybe you could anyway."

Alex laughs. "We'll see." He feels a strain in his back and decides it's time to put the girls down. Will goes off running back to her toys but Wren hangs on, unable to let go of the comfort. "C'mon Wren. At least let me take my shoes off."

"But you'll come back?" She's completely wide-eyed and worried. Whenever she's in need of reassurance, Alex fears it's his fault. That he went on tour when they were too young and ever since Alex is certain he has caused them abandonment issues.

He told you this once, late at night, after Wren had cried for him to not leave her alone in her room. He stayed with her until she fell asleep and would have fallen asleep beside her if you hadn't come to collect him. Under the covers, he told you this fear and regret, at first, you laughed, insisting Wren was just clingy. Alex chose to believe you if only to fall asleep that night.

Sometime after midnight, Wren came into yours and Alex's bedroom, tugging on Alex's hand making sure that he was still there, still breathing, still real. Her little whimpers woke you up. Alex hugged Wren to his chest and you ran a hand down the sensitive girl's back. She kept saying, "You were gone. You left." You tried your best to minimize Alex's worries but he felt this fear to be true and a hidden part of him thinks you blame him too.

Alex kisses Wren's plump baby cheek, placing her tiny feet on the wooden floor. "Always," he assured her. She toddles cautiously back to the toys to join her sister.

But then there's one more girl he has to take care of. "Are you going to make me mac & cheese?" You ask, approaching him, and slinging your arms around his neck. His hand finds its rightful place on the small of your back, the one where you always feel an ache when his hand isn't there.

He pulls you closer to him, pressing her body up against his, your faces so close, your noses just barely not touching. "I'll make you whatever you want." His lips pucker expectantly, waiting for yours to collide with them.

"Anything?" You raise an eyebrow.

He relaxes his lips and quirks a smile. "Yeah, I can make you the unicorn-shaped mac & cheese."

"Wow," you laugh, "you really are my prince charming."

He puckers his lips again. "Hurry up and kiss me, would you?" You give in because he's so cute talking about mac and cheese and there's a flutter in his eyes that you can tell means he had a long day so you won't put up much of a fight, especially when he kisses you just right.

You pull away and ask, "Long day?"

Alex shrugs. "I'm where I want to be now. How was it here?" He runs his hand up and down your right arm.

You sigh as you begin to feel the weight of the day"Good. No fights. Wren didn't nap."

Alex throws his head back. "Don't tell me that."

That fear ticks away inside him but you grab his hand and squeeze it. "It's not because of you. It allowed me to have Wren & me time considering she's a daddy's girl and Will's constant desire to be the center of attention, but don't tell her I told you that."

He chuckles. "Your secret's safe with me."

"Now come on with the mac & cheese!"

Later, when he's cooking dinner, Wren clings to his leg. Will is singing loudly in the living room and he can hear you clapping along with her.

"Mac & cheese?" Wren asks him.

"Almost done," Alex promises, picking her up by the straps of her overalls and depositing her onto the counter. "Would you do today? Did you have fun with mummy and Will?"

Wren simply nods with a smile, which is a good sign, no frowns in sight.

But she tugs away at his heart, making grabby hands for him. She's always been clingy, enjoying the feeling of being held, but he can't help but feel that she's spent the whole day missing him, not able to have any fun.

"Do you maybe want to come to work with me tomorrow, honey?" He knows he should ask you about this and Willow will have to come along or she'll throw a temper tantrum but sometimes he thinks Wren needs a little extra love. She doesn't shout for attention in the manner Willow does. Sometimes she needs to be noticed and needs to feel special.

Then, Wren starts doing that happy gurgle-laugh thing. She swings her legs, tiny socked feet hitting the utensil drawer. She nods quickly, completely excited. "I'll have to talk with mummy about it but you and me will do something special. That sound nice?"

"Yeah!" She squeals and claps her hands.

Her excitement rubs off on Alex, giving him something to smile about. He nuzzles his nose with hers. He can't get over how precious she is. "Yeah," he repeats, completely content. In moments like this, he doesn't feel like he's completely failed as a parent.

Willow comes walking in, patting her stomach, asking, "Is the mac & cheese ready? I'm 'ungry."

Putting the twins to bed can either be the easiest part of the day or the hardest. Wren nearly passes out in the bathtub, running on limited sleep. Willow refuses to stay in bed. When you leave the room, she pops out of bed and starts playing with her toys in the dark.

Alex goes in to kiss her goodnight after he lays Wren down and finds her bouncing on her bed. She stalls at the sight of Alex, clear that she has been caught out. "Bedtime, missy," he tells her.

She giggles but plops down on her butt. "I'm not tired," she states like there is simply no argument to be made.

Alex sighs and sits on the edge of her tiny bed. "But I'm tired."

"You can go to bed. That's okay, daddy." She touches his arm like she's reassuring him she'll be fine.

Alex huffs a laugh into his hand. He doesn't want Will to get excited that she's making her dad laugh. "I can't go to bed unless you go to bed. It's the rules."

She closes her eyes and flops down on the bed dramatically, pushing the air loudly out of her pillow. "Fine." She seems like she's making an attempt, but then she opens her eyes wide and demands, "Story first."

He knows you probably read her two stories already and he shouldn't give in but you're in the shower and he'll be waiting all alone in bed for you so why shouldn't he kill some time with one of his girls? "One."

She claps her little kiddie hands. "You can pick," she says like she's doing him a favour.

And she kind of is because if he has to read Goldilocks again, he might lose it. "Rumplestiltskin it is." He's always liked it and he knows Will likes the straw turning into gold part.

He picks up the book of the collected Brothers Grimm fairy tales. Part of him can never deny reading the girls (including you) a story. You all do the same thing: cuddle up beside him, lay your head on his arm, point at the pictures, and say a comment on every sentence if only to make reading time just a bit longer. Will curls his fingers around his forearm and falls asleep halfway through the story but he finishes it anyway. Partly because he knows if Will is pretending to be asleep and he doesn't finish the whole thing she'll insist he has to read her another one. (The other part because he loves the story).

You've just exited the bathroom with wet hair and a towel wrapped around you when Alex enters your bedroom. "Everyone went to sleep alright?" You're going through the drawers, looking for pajamas.

"Yeah. Will had me read her another story but she conked out quick."

You smirk. "Will had you read another story or you wanted to read another story?"

He rolls his eyes at you mocking him before admitting, "Both."

You laugh at him, your sweet boy. The house can feel overrun with girls sometimes, even the cat is a girl, but Alex never seems to mind. He likes all the girlish things the girls like. Tea parties and dress-up, although, he did get noticeably a little more excited when the girls started kicking around a football. But then Alex just said, "Girls are better at football anyway."

He's better at tea parties than football anyway. He doesn't even try to pretend to lose to the girls when they play 2 v. 1 with him. They are sneaky and tiny and like Pepper does, they wrap around and slide through his legs to kick into his goal. Meanwhile, he thrives at the tea parties, drinking whatever concoction the girls make, even if it tastes like plastic. You always pretend to sip but Alex is the real deal. Always has been.

"Did you miss me while I was gone?" He asks, leaning against the wall, trying to tempt you.

You smile, dropping the towel, leaving you naked in his view for five seconds before you toss a T-shirt over your head. "No, not really."

The T-shirt is red and he's like a bull as he charges toward you, picks you up, and lands both of you on the bed. You're giggling affectionately into the kiss and it's completely loved-up and lovely and you both love that but Alex and you clearly want more. You push him up, off of your lips. "Shut the door."

Sex with the kids can be challenging. Before you did it every time, every surface you could find. Now, you mostly do it at night, rarely in the morning because the girls are always up early. You can't do it every night. Sometimes you can tell the girls didn't fall asleep or you're tired or Alex passed out while you were in the shower.

Despite the scheduling-sounding nature of things, sex still seems spontaneous. Like a random gust of wind felt upon the skin. Alex always makes things exciting and after doing it more times than you can count, it never bores. The predictability of it is what makes it so charged, so romantic, so sexual, so loving. You can tell by the thrust of his hips whether he's close or not. He can tell by the furrow of your brow whether he's hitting that spot in you or not. It has always felt right.

He's fast in his steps, locking the door, and pretty much launching himself back onto the bed. He covers you, completely all over you, kissing you, feeling you up. He reaches under your shirt, pushing it up to expose your boobs, but not taking it off. He grabs them, a fistful at first, then just the nipple. He kisses down your neck, over the collection of your shirt's fabric, onto the skin of your boobs, and then the areola, licking over the wrinkles of it before meeting the erected nipple.

There are times when you do devote time to foreplay. Alex loves it. You love it. Both ways. You both have always been reciprocal naturally. You never need to ask the other for more. In fact, more often you ask for less. Like...

"This feels really nice," you tell him, "but I'm tired and I know you're tired so just fuck me, okay?"

"Okay," he agrees, breathing heavily already. He stands to take his clothes off. You don't bother shedding the top. He can fondle your boobs just fine with it still on and it provides an emergency cover if one of the girls walks in.

Alex lays back on you intently, kissing you harshly. You reach down to hold his cock, pumping him a few times before his hand takes over and slides into you. The idea of it is quick but the pace is rocking, not fast, not slow, just right. You furrow your brows and arch up into him. He reaches into the space underneath the arch and holds you, completely skin-to-skin. He lays kisses on your neck in no particular pattern like he isn't even trying to turn you on more, he just wants to do it.

You grip the back of his head's hair, clumps in your compressed grasp. "More," you urge, needing just a little more to tip over.

His mouth moves next to your ear, whispering, "Want me to fuck another baby into you?"

It makes you snort a laugh right in the middle of sex. You have to physically stop his hips from moving as you collect your breath. "What? Another set of twins?"

"Yeah. With my super sperm." He's jokingly bragged about that with you since you found out you were having twins. You corrected him and said it was your eggs that made the twins since they're fraternal. He said, "No, it was a really good load, I remember." It's always made you laugh.

"Twin boys now?" You ask.

He shrugs. "Or more girls? I don't mind."

Everything about him is calm, but there is sincerity in all of it. "Are we seriously talking about more kids while you're inside me?"

Alex makes small movements inside you. "Yeah, come on." He leans closer and closer to you. "We make cute kids. The girls are older. I know you want it."

You place your hands on his shoulders. "Right now I just want you so can we do that part before the 9-month part?"

He nods. "Cart before the horse."

You laugh and tug him down into your shoulder. You whisper into his ear as his hips begin to move harder and harder, "Fuck a baby into me."

Alex chuckles and kisses your jugular. He quickens, both of you feeling an ache for release conjuring inside you. He moves harder and pulls your hips to him. He's doing all the work, but he doesn't mind, he likes doing this for you, likes being good for you. That's all he wants to do.

"That feel good?" He has asked this almost every time you've had sex like, no matter what, even after doing this for years, he wants to make sure it's as good as the last time.

You hum in the affirmative, feeling too overwhelmed to talk clearly. Your grip around his neck tightens as you drag him closer down to you. He keeps thrusting into you hard, skin hitting skin sounding across the room.

"So fucking tight," he groans into your ear.

His pace is quick, erratic, and eager. His breath is heavy and filled with soft grunts. His hands are rough, squeezing on your hips. You know he's holding on for you but you want him to enjoy it too. It doesn't always have to be about you. "Let go," you tell him.

But he's hot for it, not rejecting your request like you thought he would. "You want it?" He asks.

You nod, fluttering eyes.

"Tell me," he says, pounding deep.

You scrap your nails down his back soothingly. "I want it. Deep in me." He hums, requesting more without saying it. "Fill me up with your cum. Please."

Maybe it's your words, maybe it's how close he was, or maybe it's both, but he cums instantly after, deep inside you, filling you up. He groans and pants into your neck. He rests inside you, holding everything in, while he catches his breath. You comb your fingers through his hair, calming him.

He raises his head so he's looking down on you. "You okay?"

You softly smile, exhaustion hovering over you. "Yeah."

"You don't cum," he comments.

You shrug. "I got what I wanted."

Alex grunts. "God, you're gonna make me cum again."

You push him up, making him hiss at the sensitivity. "Don't," you command.

He pulls out slowly and before you can even say anything, he's got his fingers inside you, keeping all that cum in, making a mess on his finger. It takes you off guard, making you moan instantly. He's quick with everything, knowing you want to go to bed, hoping to release the tension and ease you into relaxation.

His two fingers shove in and out of you rapidly. He curls them just in the right spot, making you moan, "Fuck." His thumb grazes over your clit, just like how he knows to do it. It's messy, the whole thing is a mess, but it feels like the hottest thing ever, and soon your hips are unable to stay still and you're coming.

It's your turn to catch your breath and he's licking your shared cum off his hands. He makes a face. "I don't think I've ever tasted my own cum."

You reach out and grab his hand, taking the still-dirty finger into your mouth, and licking it clean. "You've made me taste both before."

He kisses your lips before getting off the bed to grab tissues. "Don't act like it was against your will. I recall you liking it."

You sigh, sitting up and fixing your shirt. "We're gonna have to change the sheets."

Alex hands you a few tissues and says, "I'll do it. You clean yourself up." You'll always accept him doing all the work.

It’s three in the morning when a tiny hand shakes Alex awake, and he opens his eyes to find Wren there holding her stuffed teddy bear against her chest, cheeks wet from crying. “I wet the bed.”

“Oh,” Alex says, while his heart rate settles. He looks around to get his bearings and finds you out of it to his right, curled up on your side. He blinks the last vestiges of sleep from his eyes as Wren sniffles miserably, and he pushes up to wipe her jaw dry. “Hey, it’s okay, baby. It just happens sometimes, alright?”

“But I'm not ‘posed to,” she croaks. “I’m supposed to be a big girl now. I’m sorry.”

“No, hey,” Alex kisses her forehead. “It’ll be fine, come on.”

She holds onto his hand and he leads her into the bathroom, running the water to warm and filling the tub with strawberry-scented bubbles. Once she’s in, he lets her play with her rubber ducks for a while to calm down. She splashes them and chews on their tails and presses their drawn-on smiles to his cheek as a kiss. "Muah," she says, and he loves her so much it hurts.

He runs a hand over her damp hair. “I’m gonna go fix your bed, okay? Just keep playing.”

Wren nods, so he leaves her with the door wide open and the light cascading into the hall. Strips her bed of the old sheets and carries them over to the wash. When he comes back, she’s resting her chin against the edge of the tub, waiting for him.

His head tilts, looking down at her big eyes on her little face. “Hey, Peanut.”

“Hi,” she says, timid. “Do you still love me?”

Alex frowns and sits down in front of her on the cold tile. “Why wouldn’t I still love you?”

“M’no good,” she whispers. “M’not small anymore, and I miss you all the time, and—”

“Alright, hey,” Alex cuts in gently, pushing her hair behind her ears to hold her face, all flushed chubby cheeks. He hates himself. Feels like he has made her feel this way. Made her feel unloved and he'll beat himself up for it every day. Never forgive himself for making her doubt his love. "I know I’ve been gone a lot, and I’m really sorry, but I miss you the whole time I’m away. All I wanna do is be here with you, okay? I promise. I love you,” he says, kissing her freckled nose and watching it crinkle up, “so much. I hope you know that.”

She nods, bites her lower lip, and chews. “You love mummy?”

“Yes,” Alex says. “Tons.”

“Is tons a lot?” She asks, and he notices her eyes flit over his shoulder, which gives him a pretty good idea of why she’s asking.

“It is,” he confirms, glancing behind him and finding you in the doorway, hair thrown up, wearing that ratty old red tee. You grin and lean against the door jamb, eyes soft. “The better question is: does mummy love daddy?”

You laugh. “Tons squared,” she promises. “Come on, it’s bedtime, baby.”

“Can I sleep with you?” Wren asks, anxious.

Alex kisses her cheek. “Of course,” he says and leans around her to pull the drain. You come over to help her dry off and Alex goes to grab her fresh pajamas. You both help her dress because she’s all sleepy from the warmth of the bath, and she’d get lost in her shirt if you weren’t around. Alex picks her up and carries her to their bed, laying her down between them so they can both hold her.

"You okay, honey?" You ask Wren, running your fingers through her hair, calming her like you do for him.

She nods, her eyes slowly closing, sleep taking her away from you.

Alex kisses her cheek lightly, not wanting to disturb her sleep. "Love you."

You repeat his action, kissing her baby skin cheek. "Me too." But she's already fallen asleep, exhausted from her little life.

You look across at Alex, his eyes cautiously looking over Wren. "Hey," you whisper to him to grab his attention. His gaze meets yours, his eyes solemn, but affectionate. "Love you."

He smiles because that's just what he needs. That's all he'll ever need. "Me too."

A hand pushes on your back somewhere around 4 in the morning. You turn around at the expected sight: Willow holding her stuffed teddy bear, thumb in her mouth, scared little eyes.

"What's wrong, baby?" You ask her, reaching out and smoothing back her messy hair.

"I had a night'are." Her voice wobbles. Alex and Wren are still sound asleep. You reach down to pick her up, laying her on your chest and hugging her to you, wanting to keep her safe from all the evil things awakening her.

"Everything's okay," you reassure.

"What's wrong?" You turn to see Alex, alert and worried rubbing his eyes.

"Nightmare."

Willow turns her head to look at her dad. "Oh," she says, "there's Wen. I was scared she wasn't where she was."

Alex reaches his arm over a sleeping Wren and rubs Willow's back, hushing her rapid heartbeat. "She's been in here. She got scared too but she's okay. She's sleeping now."

Willow keeps her voice low, understanding to keep quiet. "I went lookin' for her but she wasn't in her room."

"Why did you go to her room, honey? Why didn’t you come in here?" You ask.

"'Cause I always go there when I'm scared. Wen goes 'Everyting's okay' and then I know it will be 'cause she said so." She's so sweet, she hides it sometimes, doesn't like to give it away, she's careful with who she gives it to and you're sure nobody loves someone like Willow and Wren love each other. For that, Alex doesn't have to worry. He knows Willow and Wren will always look out for each other.

You kiss Willow's cheek and slide her carefully next to Wren. The bed is just big enough to fit you all but you have to hold steady to not tip off the bed. The girls are comfortable though and that's all that matters.

"We should sleep in here all the time," Willow says.

You and Alex both laugh quietly at your little girl. "Maybe," Alex says.

"Pep should be here too."

So, Alex goes and gets Pepper.

a/n: i hope the names are fine. i just tried to pick two twin-sounding names. whatever that means.

#alex turner fic #alex turner x fem!reader #alex turner x reader #alex turner x oc #alex turner x y/n #alex turner x you #alex turner #alex turner smut #junedenim

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doctor-dusk · 4 months ago

Text

𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐭, 𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 | 𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐱 𝐭.

he showed you that movie theaters were not made exclusively for watching movies.

warnings: smut, oral (f receiving), piv, public sex. can't remember any more warnings beside these ones.

word count: 7.6k

series masterlist

ffs 7.6k words i'm gobsmacked- i ended up getting too excited, but uuuugh, i loved writing this part. i hope you like it :3

of course you accepted.

however, as much as you wanted to see him, you were hesitant. you had never seen him other than via video call, and you were somewhat paranoid about people you met on the internet. so, you two agreed to meet at a movie theater, which was usually full and where you felt safe for a first date.

it was saturday night and you told your parents that you were going to the movies with your best friend. well, if you were paranoid, your parents were much worse than you. you couldn't simply throw them a ‘i'm going out with a guy i met online’.

but to be on the safe side and to maintain your own safety, you notified your best friend, giving her the address of the movie theater and saying that if you weren't home by midnight, she should call the police.

you were very nervous, of course. numerous scenarios running through your head. possibilities of everything going very right or very wrong. but you were already there.

leaning against the cold wall outside the movie theater, watching the little movement on the street. usually on the date of a film's premiere, the frenzy is imminent. lines of cars on all sides of the avenue and more queues to buy tickets and get in the rooms. but now, it's calm. so calm.

you looked at your phone, checking the time. you scheduled it for 8pm, there were exactly 7 minutes left. you were too anxious, at 5pm you were already taking your shower and at 6:40pm you were ready. but you made sure to dress up well for the occasion. you could already expect the shower of compliments he might give you, like “oh, i love your dress. take a little spin for me” or “you smell so good”. something that would be very “alex” to say.

your cell phone vibrated, indicating that a message had arrived. in a rush, you rummaged through your purse, thinking it was a message from him.

“did he arrive?” you let your eyebrows fall when you saw it was a message from your best friend.

“not yet.” you answered, trying to sound optimistic. there is still time, he could arrive at any moment. your stomach was churning with anxiety, you resisted the urge to bite your freshly painted wine nails.

she didn't say anything else and neither did you, closing your hand around your phone and supporting your body weight on your other leg while you placed one hand on your waist.

you looked around once more, taking a few steps ahead, not having a right direction to go. you're bored. distracted. nervous. anxious. like you’re going to explode like a dynamite. you needed to relax your mind a little.

you took a few steps closer to the parking lot, seeing how empty it was. you could count 8 cars there and 3 motorcycles. better, 4 motorcycles, since one was just arriving through the adjacent entrance.

your eyes followed that motorcycle until it stopped, parking in the reserved space. it wasn't that dark despite some broken light bulbs in the parking lot, but you could recognize that the model of the bike was a kawasaki. maybe a W800. not that you're an expert, but do you remember that your uncle had a motorcycle just like that. he said he loved the motorcycle more than his own wife. isn't it surprising that they have divorced.

back to what you're seeing, the motorcyclist got off after placing the motorcycle's foot on the ground, securing it so that the motorcycle remained upright and without any risk of falling. the black leather jacket hugged his body just right, the dark jeans didn't seem to be that tight on his lower body, just accentuating the curves of his thighs. and wow, what an ass.

his back was turned the whole time. he carefully removed his helmet, combing his hair back, but he didn't seem satisfied with the result when he looked at his own reflection in a car window. so, he pulled out a small comb that was in his back pocket, combing his hair back until he thought it looked presentable enough, slicked back to the last hair.

he put the comb inside his pocket and pulled out his phone from the front pocket. your heart raced. coud be him?

your phone vibrated in your hand. you looked at the screen, a message from alex popped on your screen.

‘’i’m here.’’

you froze in place, like your feet were glued on the floor. you looked back at the exact moment he turned around.

yeah, it was him.

fuck, fuck, fuck. it was him.

alex was more intimidating in person. not in a bad way, though.

he wasn't that tall. but well, you didn't expect him to be as tall as a lamppost either. he was tall enough to make you stand on your tiptoes if you wanted to kiss him. pale skin under the streetlights, dark hair slicked back and covered in hair gel that made the shiny strands stay in place. it suited him well, although you were used to seeing him with a bit more unruly hair. but it matched his thin face, vibrant ebony eyes, thin, slightly pursed mouth. and oh, of course... the nose. the fucking charming nose. better in person. so much better.

‘’hello you.’’ he greeted you as soon as his eyes met your figure not so far from him. ‘’hope i didn't make you wait too long.’’

‘’you're here.’’ you said almost in a whisper while you put your cell phone back in your purse. you're acting a bit awkwardly, but you couldn't help it.

‘’guess i am.’’ he chuckled, standing in front of you, not knowing exactly how to greet you. he didn't want to admit that he was also nervous to see you. ‘’can i hug you?’’

‘’y-yes, of course.’’ you chuckled, watching him bend down just a little so he could hug you properly, wrapping his arms around your waist, hugging you tight. you wrapped your arms around his neck, really sure that you would need to stand on your tiptoes if you wanted to be at his height.

‘’mhm, there we go. you smell so good.’’ he muttered, running his nose over your shoulder, not touching your neck. he didn't want to sound so invasive.

funny, because you've done so much over video call. and now you're here, acting awkwardly like two teenagers.

you smiled weakly. you already expected this compliment, yet you’re giggling internally. ‘‘do you like it?’’ you asked, not failing to notice that he also smelled good. something woody, accentuating the masculinity he exuded along with the freshness of the hair gel.

‘’yeah. all for me?’’ he said, taking one last deep breath before breaking the hug, letting you return to your normal posture. you chuckled, seeing him gesture with his finger for you to take a little turn. very shyly, you did so, eliciting a low whistle from him. ‘’hell, you're even better in person, i'm feeling spoiled already.’’

‘’i have to impress you, don't i?’’ you raised both eyebrows, your palms sweating as you clenched your hands against the strap of your purse.

‘’nah, that's my job. gotta impress you even more now.’’ he chuckled, putting his arm around your shoulder so you could head towards the entrance of the movie theater.

you looked over your shoulder, taking a look at the motorcycle. ‘’is that yours?’’ you pointed curiously.

‘’yep. all mine. did you like it?’’ he asked, following your gaze to the parked motorcycle. you nodded. ‘’good. i'll show you better later. if you want, i can even teach you how to drive it.’’

‘’oh, please, don't give me any ideas.’’ you chuckled, already picturing him teaching you everything, telling you the name of each component of the motorcycle, how to accelerate, or how to change gears. you could already see his big hands guiding yours on the motorcycle's handlebars.

‘’don't worry love, you'll be fine, i’ll show you everything you need to know.’’ he said, giving you a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. ‘’so... do you know which movie you want to see?’’

you took a quick look at the catalog, seeing which movies were showing. none of them interested you visually speaking. you looked back at him. you didn't even need to say anything. after all, he wasn't interested in any movie either. deep down, you both knew that the movie would just be an excuse.

‘’it's ok. let's see this one.’’ he pointed to a random one, you didn't even have time to read the title because he was already holding your hand to go to the ticket office. there was no queue at all, so you didn't have to worry about that. ‘’good evening. i'll take two tickets for that movie over there.’’ he said to the clerk, who had a bored look on his face while he was fiddling with his cell phone.

you were already opening your purse to get your wallet when alex glanced at you, frowning immediately.

‘’what are you doing?’’ he asked, holding your wrist, making you stop and look at him.

‘’i'm going to…’’ you pointed to the ticket office. ‘’pay for my ticket.’’

he looked at you, almost dumbfounded. then, he laughed softly, shaking his head.

‘’none of that. leave it to me.’’ he said. you felt kind of stupid because he acted and said it like it was something unacceptable.

‘’alex, i'm used to paying for my ticket, it's ok…’’ you told him, not really caring, but he shook his head again. well, if you were stubborn, he made sure to be worse than you.

‘’used to it? damn, did those blokes made you pay for your ticket?’’ he asked, genuinely concerned, taking his wallet out of his front pocket.

you didn't answer. there was no need to answer since he was right. you had already lost count of how many bad dates you had been on and how many times you had had to pay for your ticket. it was ridiculous to think about it sometimes.

his frown softened as did his voice. ‘’not with me, hm? now be good and sit over there while i finish up here.’’ he said, letting go of your wrist and pointing to one of the cushioned chairs in the hall. ‘’do you want popcorn? soda?’’

‘’no, i'm good.’’ you answered.

‘’mints?’’ he pointed to the glass candy display. you nodded softly, deciding to accept at least a mint gum. you were already feeling weird enough for letting him pay for your ticket. it was unusual for you.

you made your way to one of the chairs, sitting there, crossing your leg while your purse rested on your lap. your phone vibrated again, and you already knew who it was.

‘’should i call the police?’’ your friend's message made you laugh softly, your fingers typing the reply quickly.

‘’you should call the fireman. god, you have no idea how hot he is.’’

she sent you a bunch of emojis, asking for more details. of course you could tell her enough, but not everything. and you wouldn't do it now.

you heard a whistle, seeing that alex was waiting for you with the two tickets in his hand. you stood up, putting your phone away and going to him. ‘’he said that the next session starts in ten minutes, we can get in there if we want.’’ he said, handing you the package with mints.

‘’good, we can find a good place to sit then.’’ you said, holding the packet of mints in your hand, not wanting to open it for now.

alex guided the way, his hand always holding yours as you made your way down the dark hallway to the dimly lit room, the large white screen seemed to hover over you as you climbed the carpeted stairs, being careful not to trip. he scanned the place, not that it was very crowded, just a few people spread out in different places in the seats. he wanted a spot that he knew no one would pay attention to you.

‘’there. sounds great?’’ he pointed to a spot in the first few chairs, right at the top. you nodded, following him until you reached the seats, he let you go first to sit in the chair on the left while he sat to your left. ‘’it's a good spot, hm?’’ he commented to you, taking a look from his point of view, seeing that it was hard for anyone to notice you there. you were sitting almost under the projector, so probably not even the projectionist would be able to see you there.

‘’mhmm, really good.’’ you said, opening the package of mints, putting one in your mouth, feeling the freshness invade your mouth almost instantly. ‘’want one?’’ you asked, handing the package to him.

he alternated his gaze between you and the package, your expecting eyes on him the whole time.

‘’yeah, but... i don't want any of those.’’ he answered and you already felt your throat close up a little. ‘’i want yours. can i have it?’’

fuck, that's it. it's your chance. don't fuck it up.

‘’yeah.’’ you answered, glancing at his arm passing over your shoulder. your stomach seemed to tie a double knot, your heart was beating so fast it felt like you were going to have a heart attack at any moment.

before your eyes could register, his lips touched yours tenderly, savoring the first contact as much as possible, like touching the grass after a rain on a calm afternoon, the smell of wet soil invading your lungs with force while you felt like a flower blooming on the first day of spring.

he was calm, but intense. you couldn't explain it, you could only feel every sensation he brought you with that simple kiss as he tried to taste your mouth when the tip of his tongue passed over your bottom lip. you let out a sigh you didn't even know you were holding when the kiss deepened, he explored the confines of your mouth as much as he could, swirling his tongue around yours, the mint candy passing from one mouth to the other in an almost frantic manner. his hand tightened on your shoulder, bringing you closer. you didn't even know what to do with your hands, keeping them gripping the arm of the seat.

you broke the kiss when you were forced to take a breath, panting softly, the candy had disappeared from your mouth, leaving only the slight burn of mint on your taste buds. but still, the taste of his kiss prevailed.

‘’wow.’’ he was the first to break the silence, running his thumb over your bottom lip, cleaning the trace of saliva from there. ‘’i think i accidentally swallowed the candy.’’

you chuckled, not really caring about it, your mind in a spiral, his kiss fresh on your lips like fresh paint. ‘’there's more here if you want it.’’ you replied, watching him shake his head slightly, his eyes drinking in your almost silhouette in the low light of the movie theater, he heard murmurs around, but nothing that took his attention away from you.

‘’maybe later, love. it was just an excuse for me to be able to kiss you.’’ he whispered, pecking your lips, making you practically beg for more as you tilted your head towards him, searching for his lips like a magnet. he let out a small chuckle. ‘’did you like it that much?’’

‘’you're a good kisser.’’ you admitted quietly. he really was a good kisser. you didn't know if it was because of your bad kissing history, but you also didn't want to burn your neurons thinking about it. you wanted his kiss again. and again. and again.

and he would be more than happy to give it to you.

he kissed you again, his lips searching for the perfect rhythm, still trying to fit together as precisely as a jigsaw puzzle. his breathing was heavy, the air exhaled through his nose and hit your cheek, the texture of his wet lips against yours brought you the feeling of being completely ecstatic as he moved his tongue, as if he was inviting yours to a slow dance.

his right hand passed over yours, his thumb lightly caressing your knuckles and fingers, sliding over the silver ring you had on your middle finger. you sighed softly when the hand that was on top of yours rested on your bare knee. before you could break the kiss again due to lack of air, a loud noise echoed through the speakers spread throughout the movie theater, startling both of you. oh, damn trailers.

‘’you good?’’ he asked, merely amused that you were startled by it, both of his hands rubbing your shoulder and knee simultaneously.

‘’yeah, just... unexpected.’’ you chuckled, feeling his lips pressing a small kiss on your forehead, giving you time to recover and maybe get in the mood again as the trailers played on the huge screen.

you felt comfortable enough to lay your head on his shoulder, the strands of your hair tickling his nose as he turned his face to place a tender kiss on the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment, inhaling the scent of your shampoo on your soft locks, almost burying his face there.

‘’i love how you smell. really.’’ he said softly, as if he was admitting more to himself than to you. he couldn't help it, as if everything inside him was succumbing to you. he didn't expect this on a first date, but he wasn't trying hard to stop it either.

‘’hm?’’ you asked, moving your head so you could look at him, waiting for him to repeat himself because you really hadn't heard, the sound of the voices from the movie forced him to speak louder or get closer to your ear.

but he didn't answer you. he kissed you instead, feeling the sweetness of your lips pressed against his. this almost made him groan, his desire increasing with each caress exchanged, with each miserable sigh you let out. the hand that was on your knee went up to your thigh, feeling more precisely how soft your skin was. the feeling stretched the smile on his lips.

‘’just the way i imagined. god, you have no idea how much i wanted to touch you like this. how much i craved this...’’ he whispered between your lips, feeling your warm breath hitting his lips. you were already numb, if you weren't sitting down, you were definitely on the floor, your senses seemed to be reduced to dust at this moment. ‘’so soft…’’ he whispered again, sinking his fingers into the warm flesh of your thigh, threatening to advance under your dress.

‘’alex…’’ you whispered back, your voice a mix of desire and nervousness. and as always, he knew it.

‘’is it okay if i touch you?’’ he asked, his head tilted back so he could look you in the eyes, seeking the assurance that it would be okay if he continued. you nodded, your desire speaking louder than any other insecurity or fear. you mentally thanked yourself for having shaved during the shower. not that you were expecting it, but... well, you were.

he kept his face close to yours, watching every single expression as his hand inched closer, your heat radiating more and more as you bit your lip in anticipation and excitement. he palmed your core, raising his eyebrows in a slight surprise.

‘’fuck, baby. soaked already. i didn't even do anything.’’ he let out in a sly tone, his fingers collecting your wetness over your panties, almost making you whine. he was delicate, he wanted to discover everything about you little by little, despite having already seen your cunt on video call. but it was different in person.

he teased you over the thin and wet material, almost feeling your folds molding in the panties, sticking and soaking even more when he found your clit, the bud marking the spot for being so swollen and needy.

instantly, it was like a switch had turned in his head. he didn't want to touch you anymore. he wanted to taste you. eat you. devour you.

you watched as he got on his knees on the carpeted floor, crawling that narrow and tight hallway just to stand in front of you. you widen your eyes a bit, getting a little alarmed by the idea.

‘’what are you going to do?’’

‘’gonna eat you out, babe. no one will see me, i promise. only you.’’ he answered, his hands going to your knees, looking up at you. your face was lit only by the movie screen, the flashes illuminating your insecure expressions more and more. ‘’need to taste you, please.’’

please. again.

your hands itched. you wanted this so much, so much. but you were also scared, a huge impasse. a voice in your head told you to go and another told you not to go. but oh, those big puppy eyes looking up at you was your undoing.

‘’okay.’’ you agreed, lifting your hips so he could take off your panties, each act increased the flow of adrenaline running through your veins, your body heated up as well as the rest of your organism as he held your knees, spreading your legs for him.

he held your panties, his fist closing around the lace, feeling the gluey wetness against his palm, making his cock twitch inside his jeans. he was hungry. so hungry for you.

‘’closer.’’ he urged, pulling your hips, leaving your ass almost off the chair, your body in a position almost lying on the armchair, your eyes wandering around before returning to him, his breath creeping up on your thigh. ‘’that's it, baby. you okay?’’ he asked, wanting one last confirmation that everything was okay with you before he continued.

‘’mhm... taste me, al. please.’’ you whispered to him, lust filled eyes looking down at him in a silent plea.

and nothing else was needed. no words, no encouragement. it was like the starting gun for alex to just bury his face between your legs, his greedy tongue sliding along your vulva, from bottom to top, collecting your juices. it was like he was tasting a drink for the first time. but it wasn't like he was eating pussy for the first time. but it was your pussy. it was different. he didn't know exactly what it was, but it was different, it made him want to get drunk, to drown in your ocean.

‘’my god, so fucking good…’’ he mumbled against your folds, moving his lips up to suck your clit, sucking so hard that you closed your legs around his head with equal force, your hands gripped the armrest of the seats until the blood stopped circulating in your hands, turning it white. “sorry, did i hurt you?” he paused, looking up at you.

“n-no, you were just... hasty.” you replied after blinking a few times, loosening the grip of your legs around his head, feeling the soft touch of his hands on your inner thighs, pushing your legs apart again, keeping his hands there to hold you in case you close them again.

“sorry. gonna take it slow for you, honey.” he apologized, feeling a little guilty for having done that on the first contact.

but it was a little difficult for him to control himself. since he saw you last time, he had lost count of how many times he fucked his own fist imagining himself like that, rubbing his face in your pussy, sucking, licking, biting, touching every single inch of that area. it was like a personal achievement.

now, he knew he needed to take it slow. he wanted to make it good for you, to make you whimper his name and reduce you to a mess in that seat. he looked up at you, taking the sight of your scrunched face, your eyes leaving his to look around, making sure no one was looking.

god, he had such a good tongue. you were already sure of that when he kissed you, but you really weren't expecting it to be even better as he lapped your folds calmly, but with that hint of hunger deep down. he mumbled something that you didn't even hear or try to understand, your head falling back slightly, your saliva running down your throat with difficulty. then, he tapped your thigh, catching your attention.

“can you do me a favor, love?” he asked, taking a breath that he didn't even know he needed, his lips were already starting to get swollen. “give me a mint.” he pointed to the package next to you. you looked back at him, deciphering what he was thinking of doing. “you'll like it, trust me.”

and you trusted him.

you took a candy from the package carefully, the green tiny ball stayed in the palm of your hand until you brought it to your mouth. he hummed in gratitude, feeling the freshness mixing with the taste of your pussy on his tongue.

you felt your heart pounding against your chest, your face boiling red. he was no different, and for him it was a little worse, because he already felt that familiar feeling in the lower region, his jeans getting tighter at every moment. he wanted to release, he needed it. but he wanted to take care of you first.

his tongue meets your meaty slimy folds once again, you gasped when you felt it burn a little, but not in a bad way. it was a cooling burn, like an ice cube sliding up and down your pussy, making the mint press on your clit while he slobbered on your cunt like a starving man.

“good?” he muttered to you, looking up. you were a mess, shaking and squirming at his ministrations.

“s-so good, please… more.” you babbled as he gave a smirk at your answer. his thumb moved to press on your clit, feeling it pulsing, craving, almost screaming his name.

“i'm gonna ruin it.” you whispered, afraid that you would mess up his perfectly slicked back hair.

“gonna give you more, baby. your pussy is so delicious, holy shit.” his filthy mouth only sent shivers down your spine, the freshness and the eager way he eats you out made you see stars before your eyes, little twinkling dots as you felt a knot forming at the pit of your belly. you trembled, your hands gripping the arms of the seat, needing to ground yourself. “my hair, sweetie. you can grab it.” he hummed, holding your wrists, bringing your hands to his hair, the hair gel felt cool in your palms.

“i don't fucking care. make a mess, babe.” his voice sounded almost harsh as his hands returned to your plushy thighs, his sloppy tongue moving across your labia and clit, making your cunt pulse in an overwhelming rhythm.

it all seemed too much for you. the adrenaline, the hunger, the filthy words infesting your mind. your eyes rolled back as you gripped his greasy hair, a few strands falling down his sweaty forehead. you couldn't hold on for any longer.

“al, 'm gonna cum…” you choked as your hips bucked, almost like you're trying to run away from his mouth.

“fuck yes, come on my mouth, please, please…” he grunted, your words settling in his mind like a command. he grabbed your hips roughly, keeping you in place, his rolling tongue snaking through your folds and teasing your gaping entrance before your entire body shook, your back arching in the chair in an erotic way as your thighs clamped shut as you trembled, milking on his tongue.

you gasped for air, your fingers still clenching in his hair as he drank every last drop of your release, sucking it all in like he was a vacuum cleaner until he lifted his head again, his mouth coated and glistening, totally covered in you.

“fuck, i can't explain…” he breathed out. he almost came in his pants at that, as embarrassing as it was for him to admit. he wouldn't even dare palm himself now, any touch now would be dangerous and he would have a lot of work to clean it up later. “so fucking good, i swear. god, it was better than i imagined.”

you let out a breathless laugh, taking the sight of him on his knees, his forehead resting on your knee for a second as he caught his breath.

“i need to fuck you.”

a fierce blush spread over your cheeks at his words. you were never the type of person to have sex on the first date. but no, you weren't going to deny it. not when you wanted it as much as he did. not when he was different.

“and i need you to fuck me.”

the movie theater was behind you as your hurried footsteps made your way outside. your heart was beating as fast as your steps, you were even walking faster than him, his hand holding yours while the other hand still held your panties inside his closed fist. yeah, you didn't even bother to put it on. it’s not like you're going to need it now.

“motel?” he asked you. you shook your head. your adventurous spirit was at its peak now, and besides... you trusted him, but not enough to let him take you to a motel.

“no, i was thinking about…” you said, stopping when you got close to his motorcycle. at this point, it was the only motorcycle parked there, and there were only three other cars there, all considerably far from where you were.

“here?” he asked you, raising his eyebrows. he looked around. it was a quiet spot. it wasn't as well lit as the rest of that almost deserted parking lot. ‘’on my bike?’’ he asked again as he saw you leaning to support your weight a little on the leather seat. you swallowed a little, not knowing if he thought it was a good idea. or if he wouldn't like it.

‘’we don't have to…’’

‘’i want to.’’ alex approached you, putting his helmet on the ground near the front wheel of the bike and you did the same with your purse. he caged you between his body and the motorcycle, his arms on either side of your body, the heat of his body transmitting to yours. ‘’i just think you deserve to be fucked in a bed.’’

again, his words seemed to light a flame inside you. ‘’we can leave it for next time. i really like your bike.’’ you giggled, feeling his nose touching your cheek as he kissed your jaw. he smiled against your skin. you’re already thinking about the next time.

‘’course you did, huh? alright then. gonna fuck you from behind, what do you think?’’ he suggested, making you spin on your heels, your lower belly touching the leather seat, feeling his hard cock almost poking your ass if it weren't for the layers of clothes getting in the way. you could feel how thick he is. just like in the photos and videos.

alex didn't want to waste time. he handed you your panties so you could hold them yourself, soon having his hands free to unbuckle his belt and lower the zipper of his jeans, putting his hand inside his boxers to take out his pulsing and aching length of that tightness that felt like a prison.

he pumped his cock a few times while his other hand was lost inside his pants pocket, taking his wallet to take out a condom from inside.

‘’i can't see a damn thing.’’ he complained softly, searching for the foil package in the compartments of his wallet, finally finding it after a thorough search, ripping the packaging with his teeth and rolling it on his cock. ‘’you good?'' he asked, kissing your bare shoulder, his body molding against yours like a lego piece fitting together.

‘’mhmm, can't wait…’’ you nodded eagerly, bending your body a bit more on the motorcycle, feeling him lift the hem of your dress a bit, almost twisting the fabric as he closed his fist against it to keep it above your tailbone.

‘’such a greedy girl, huh? all shy when you saw me and now you're practically begging me to fuck you on top of my motorcycle.’’ he teased you, sliding his already condom-covered cock through your sticky folds before lining his fat tip at your entrance. ‘’are you a virgin?’’

‘’no.’’ you answered without having to think much.

‘’good.’’ he replied. not that he would have a problem if you were, but he felt like he would have to be a lot more careful. and that it should preferably be in a bed and not on top of a motorcycle.

god, you both were on fire. all the video calls, all the times he masturbated in front of the camera for you, all the nights he daydreamed about you, none of it came close to this moment. he have you, all of you, including your pussy, all to himself so he could fuck you senseless.

his tip slowly nudged and stretched you, an almost pathetic moan dared to escape your lips as you balanced yourself, letting your weight fall on the bike. he almost let a whine escape as he felt the warmth of your pussy. god, he couldn't even measure how much he wanted this, how much he had desired this since the moment he saw you.

‘’ready?’’ he asked one last time, his breath threatening to fail, his cock was already aligned, he just needed to push, your pussy was so wet from your own wetness and his spit from earlier.

‘’please…’’ you whined, looking at him over your shoulder, feeling his hand go to your waist to squeeze and bring some stability to him.

so, he didn't hold back. alex tortuously stretched your cunt as he began thrusting deliciously slowly, his bulky cock pushing past your tight gummy walls until he bottomed out.

‘’fuck.’’ he said between gritted teeth at the feeling of your pussy already clenching around him, so tightly that it was almost hard to move. ‘’sure you’re not a virgin? so fucking tight.’’

you could chuckle at his words if you weren’t trying to get used to him. ‘’you're the one who's too much for me.’’ you replied. you weren't used to this. when you saw his cock on the screen of your laptop, you knew it was big, but you didn't know you'd have to work to accommodate it, you didn't know he'd stretch you so much.

‘’easy, baby. let me in.’’ he coaxed you. ‘’shit, you're so…’’ he grunted again, swallowing thickly. he didn't know if it was because he was really horny for that moment or if it was because you were really tight. maybe both.

your hands gripped the leather of the seat, your palms sweating more as you tried to relax for him, letting alex pump his cock in and out of you, your cunt swallowing and sucking him up, almost trapping him inside you.

‘’yeah, just like this, doing so good, let me fuck you good, hm?’’ he whispered in your ear, kissing your earlobe, starting to thrust at a gradually increasing pace. he released your dress, bringing his hand to your cheek, pinching it slightly, making your skin flush where he pinched.

‘’fuck, you feel so good, so thick…’’ you gasped, your eyes getting glassy because while it felt good, it was also too much for you. he smiled cockily at your praise, holding your chin with his thumb and index finger, making you turn your face so you could look at him.

‘’yeah, baby? do you like my cock? it's so much better in person, hm? you're sucking him whole already.’’ he mumbled, pounding into your pussy with purpose. your eyes closed shut, an almost pornographic moan escaping your lips.

alex could scold you not to moan so loud because they were in public, but fuck, he liked it. he loved watching you practically cry while he fucked you dumb like he hated you. he loved praise you. and you loved being praised. not by anyone, but by him.

this was definitely the most intense, rough and nasty sex you had ever experienced. and you didn't know how much you loved it until you felt his cock filling your warm and wet cunt, you didn't know if the squeaking sound was because of the bike rocking to your rhythm or if it was your pussy that was so wet it was starting to squish.

you whimpered when his hand wrapped around your throat, the cold metal of his ring pressed right into your windpipe making you want to cough amidst your moans. his belt buckle hit your thigh, the tingling sound echoing through your ears as he thrusted hard into you, your greedy pussy was already creaming him to the brim, his abs tensed with the familiar feeling of an approaching climax.

you started to feel that pressure building right below your belly button, your knees threatening to fail, and his grip tightened on your waist, keeping you up. alex angled his hips, hitting your spot right on target, making you mewl, closing your eyes shut. he watched your face, knowing he had hit it. so he did it again. and again. and again.

‘’gonna cum for me again?’’ he asked with a satisfied smile on his lips, seeing you nodding immediately. ‘’yeah?’’' and he hitted that spot again, rolling his hips, the soft skin of your ass slapping against his pelvis, you could feel that region of him more assertively, feeling that the area had been trimmed. no pubic hair. at least not now on this first date.

‘’gonna cum for you, al, i'm gonna-’’ you stammered, almost letting a bit of saliva escape your mouth. you were so fucked up in a literal way, you could barely remember where you were and what day it was.

you clenched hard around his cock, almost making him stop. he let out a whimper. oh god, a whimper. you've heard him moan before, but they were rough, throaty moans. it was a whimper, a plea, a sign that he was getting sensitive and that he would cum at any moment, just waiting for you.

alex kissed your neck, doing his best not to leave visible marks on you, sinking inside you with lazy and sloppily thrusts, his fat tip hitting your cervix over and over again. your smell mixed with sweat felt like something heavenly, making him want to live in your skin, live inside you forever if it meant continuing to have this feeling.

your eyes rolled as you felt your orgasm hitting you like a bullet. your toes curled, your legs closed and your knees gave out as you whined, but he thrusted harder, forcing you to stand up again to finish, you squealed at how deliciously rough he was with you.

‘’wish i could fill you up with my cum, baby.’’ he groaned, his words already tying his own mind in knots, a chill ran through his body like electricity at the thought of filling you with his cum, marking you with it to the brim, and that was enough for him to cum, his hot cum shooting up your walls, being contained by the condom. you felt everything heat up even more inside you. ‘’mmm fucking hell…’’ he exhaled, his body stopping completely when he felt there was nothing left to come out, he had already emptied himself completely inside you. or rather, the condom.

you were shaking, still experiencing the aftershocks of your orgasm, feeling him loosen his grip on your throat, his fingers running through your hair, removing some from your sweaty face.

‘’are you okay?’’ he asked, searching your face. you licked your puffy pouty lips, a fucked out expression plastered on your face as a low chuckle escaped.

‘’yeah. i just need some time.’’ you admitted. he hummed in agreement.

‘’i'm gonna pull out, okay?’’ he announced softly, his hand on your waist lightly caressing you with his thumb as he disconnected from you, you hissed at the feeling. your sore pussy was already used to him as if it no longer made sense not to feel him filling you anymore. ‘’there you go, babe.’’ he cooed, massaging your lower back as you took a breath and found the strength to stand up.

he discarded the used condom, his sensitive and sticky cock was already inside his boxers. you turned around to see him, he was a fucking sight to behold. he smiled at you, a fucked out expression was also tattooed on his face along with his messy hair.

‘’what?’’ he asked, buckling his belt again.

‘’you're so hot.’’ you said almost in a whisper.

‘’uh oh. you're flattering me already.’’ he chuckled, almost shy at your compliment, circling his arms around you, caressing your exhausted body. alex kissed the top of your head, acting so delicate like he wasn’t fucking you like you’re a slut minutes ago. ‘’that was amazing, really. you are amazing.’’

you smiled, letting him spread sweet kisses over the top of your head. it wasn't like an aftercare in bed, with cuddles and a hot bath afterwards, but it was enough for you now. he was enough for you now.

‘’want some water?' i can buy some for us.’’ he asked you. you shook your head, even though your throat was dry now, you didn't want to bother him. he could sense it. ‘’you’re so stubborn.’’ he grumbled in a playful way, breaking the hug. ‘’be right back.’’

you laughed foolishly, watching him go back to the movie theater. you took the opportunity to put your panties back on, the lace panties were in your hand the whole time and you couldn't stay without your underwear all the time. alex came back with a bottle of cold water for you a few minutes later. you drank half of the bottle, leaving the other half for him. he let out a satisfied sigh when he finished, throwing the plastic bottle in the trash.

‘’can i take you home?’’

you thought about the offer. your parents couldn't even dream of seeing you arrive on a motorcycle owned by a 'stranger' but you also didn't want to turn down his ride.

‘’sure.’’ you smiled at him, accepting the ride. alex had an extra helmet that he kept under the seat of his motorcycle. not that he always took someone with him, it was more for occasional situations like this.

soon enough, you were on his bike, wrapping your arms around his waist. alex would sometimes accelerate exaggeratedly just to irritate you, your voice almost shrill amidst the frenzy of the streets telling him to slow down. he laughed and you laughed along, pinching his belly over the fabric of his shirt as you felt him speeding his bike through the streets. you loved the adrenaline, the wind cutting through your face partially covered by the helmet and the low sound of his laughter when you told him to slow down a little.

you had already hitched a ride on a motorcycle a few times, but now, somehow, it felt different. as if your body next to his warmed you up more than usual as you held on tight to him whenever he accelerated after the traffic light turned green.

and this heat got worse when you looked at him in the right rearview mirror, seeing that the helmet covered part of his face, leaving only his eyes focused on the traffic visible, his huge nose and a small part of his upper lip. you have to say that you had a certain kind of meltdown when he caught you looking at him by looking at your reflection in the mirror.

soon, he was parking his motorcycle next to your house, you asked him to drop you off a few houses earlier so as not to run any risks. deep down, you wished he would take longer to get there, but you didn't dare say it out loud as you handed the helmet back to him. there was still a hint of afterglow in the air as he put the helmet back in silence.

‘’so, did you like the movie?’’ he asked in a playful way. obviously he wasn't referring to the movie. you giggled.

‘’yeah. very much.’’ you smiled at him, feeling his arms back to your waist, pulling you closer to him.

‘’i loved it. i loved meeting you. you're so fucking prettier in person.’’ he said, taking in the sight of you under the amber streetlight.

he couldn't help but want to kiss you, making you have to tilt your face so your head wouldn't hit the visor of his helmet. you could taste yourself in his mouth, but you weren't the least bit worried about it, wanting to savor this moment before he left.

‘’i'll see you next week?’’ he asked after breaking the kiss, his face still close to yours.

‘’next week?’’ you asked, blinking a few times.

‘’yeah. there's going to be a get-together at the pub where i work next saturday.’’ he replied, making an informal invitation to you.

you needed to think a little. you didn't usually go to pubs, much less at night. you really needed to think before accepting. he smiled at you, pinching your cheek.

‘’don't worry, you'll have time to think. but the entrance is free.’’ he pecked your lips one last time. ‘’and i'll make sure to make the best margarita you've ever had in your life.’’

a/n: riiiiight. this is my first note here after post something, just a taglist for my babe 'cause she asked me to: @thenightslikeawhirlwind

(let me know if you want to be tagged too :3)

#doctor says #alex turner smut #alex turner x reader #alex turner fanfic #alex turner x y/n #alex turner fic #alex turner x fem!reader #alex turner x you #alex turner fanfiction #alex turner

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andbreakmynose · 4 months ago

Text

cowboy films on gloomy afternoons

you loved everything about working at your local cinema, besides that one employee who just really confused you. he's just as pretentious as you thought but maybe he's also... something else.

WARNINGS: smut!! p-in-v, soft dom! al, one use of slut, office sex, age gap (unspecified, reader is in university). this is really fucking self indulgent

WORD COUNT: 4.7k

written with tbhc alex in mind because tbh he's the only one i can imagine being this level of pretentious tbh

You believed that you truly had the perfect job. For a film student, working as the projectionist at the little independent cinema across the street really was too good to be true. You spent your long hours watching movies—the kind that mattered. Sometimes you’d get stuck with the blockbuster of the week, but you were mostly met with true classics and arthouse features, which not only stuck with you long after watching but actually helped you get ahead in class. Your workspace was cramped and less than ideal, but not even that made you hate the job. You were surrounded by what felt like cinema history in unused rolls of film and posters left over from all 78 years the theater had been open, plus there was a half-decent couch to nap on. And yeah, you got free soda and snacks from it. Perfect.

The company was nice too; if the film ran long and you felt like you needed to stretch your legs, you could walk down to the never-busy lobby and talk to Lucy at the concessions counter (and steal some food) or Dylan at the ticketing stand. Somehow you even got a pretty good boss; Marty was one of the coolest and most experienced people you had ever met. He also wasn’t ever that busy, so he could help you with your homework if you really needed it.

But there’s always that one confusing co-worker, isn’t there? The one that’s either always out for the day or just plain weird. You had Alex. He worked in programming, getting to decide what movies the theater would show regardless of anyone else’s opinions. And goddamn, he was really good at it. Almost every showing you saw was completely sold out (who knew Sheffield had such an audience for auteur films?). But every time you praised his talent, he’d just... shrug it off. He was an enigma wrapped in an encyclopedia of film knowledge.

The problem with Alex is that he was aloof and painfully so. At team meetings, he’d stay in the corner, and you never really saw him out of the office. He also had a habit of being fickle; one day he’d decide he wanted to do an entire week of Tarkovsky films, and the next he’d want to do 1940’s horror films instead. His behavior echoed the type of students that would be dismissed in your class as ‘obnoxiously pretentious’, and god he was, you still remembered the time he went off on poor Marty for suggesting they show a Star Wars movie. But you were still interested in what he had to say; you loved Lucy and Dylan, but they couldn’t hold a conversation about a movie. Alex could, you assumed, if he was able to hold a conversation at all.

The first time you ever talked to him in private was when you went to ask about the copy of the film that was being shown. You had heard there was both a director's cut and a theatrical cut, so you wanted to make sure which you were playing. He answered your question with one sentence; “Director’s. Why the hell would I pick the theatrical edition?” And then went back to his work. It was a while before you talked to him again.

The next time you talked to him was for the same reasons, he seemed a little deep in his work when you came down to his office but you had 20 minutes before credits hit and your boss needed you to do this now. It was something about a high paying donor having a desperate question, whatever.

This exchange was almost the same, except this time he insisted that it was the theatrical cut and that the director’s cut was cash-grab bullshit. Ever the confusing man. You started on your way out when he called at you.

“Hey, what’s your favorite movie?”

It was an unexpected question, he never asked you anything let alone a personal question. It must be a trap, he wanted to hear your favorite movie and then would make fun of you for it. And it’s not that you had bad taste or anything, you're just sure he could find a way to tease you for literally anything you said.

“C’mon, I don’t have all day.” He says, an almost bored expression on his face.

You hesitated in choosing your words, anxious not to provoke the irritation you had seen in men like Alex, even though you knew he was likely to remain impassive. And even though you hadn’t seen him lose his temper, his distant demeanor made you uneasy, as if any slight could provoke a reaction. You had no reason to be scared but you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease in your bones.

Alex on the other hand finally turned to face you fully. He had been observing you for a while, you were always around and so was he, and he noted that you also seemed genuinely interested in the films and not just your paycheck. He also found himself begrudgingly noticing that you always wore the same type of skirt, ending right above your knees. He thought that if you were a character in a film it’d be one of your defining traits.

“Mulholland Drive.” You coughed up after a second of thinking. It was an answer that was both honest and, perhaps, intended to impress him. You didn’t want to dwell on whether that was your true intention or not though, you had other things to do.

Alex felt a flicker of satisfaction at your choice. He anticipated a more predictable answer, so Mulholland Drive was certainly a more compelling choice. In his mind, it confirmed that his suspicions were true; you were a different type of girl than any other employee he had seen in his 10 years of working at this theater. Maybe he really was pretentious, but he felt like if anyone was to work with him it should be people like you. He gave you a satisfied nod and a hum of approval, returning to the emails at his desk. He found you just as mysterious as he found you, he wanted to tear down the layers you had shown to everyone else.

Taking that as your sign to leave, you made sure to stop at the concessions stand for a bag of popcorn before going back up to the projectionists booth.

Two weeks later was when things started to change.

Alex had started to smile more, but you decided that was just because it was warm outside again. He had an interesting smile, it was warm and took up his entire face. It wasn’t the smile you’d expect him to have, you expected him to have a sneer if he was even capable of smiling.

You always liked to look at the schedule of films for the next week when they dropped on Thursday afternoons, you’d compare it to your classes’ syllabus to see if there was anything you could watch to get ahead. It seemed like Alex had decided on cowboy films for the next week, he’d done Sergio Leone before but this was just… a lot of 1960’s cowboy movies you had never even heard of. Nothing that would be helpful at all for you.

In between ‘Navajo Joe’ and ‘Billy the Kid Versus Dracula’ (god, where did he even discover these things), your eyebrows shot up. In the midst of all these damn horse operas he had snuck in… Mulholland Drive.

To say there were a million thoughts going through your head would be an understatement. A small, selfish part of you wanted him to have included the film because he had a soft spot for you, maybe this was his way of saying he saw how much you liked movies too. The logical part of your brain told you that there was some other reason, maybe an anniversary or something.

Checking the remaining time on Sabrina (Alex was on an Audrey Hepburn kick this week), you saw you had an hour left. That was plenty of time to wander the lobby and see if you could catch Alex. You slipped your phone into your pocket and climbed down the ladder from the projectionist’s booth to the lobby, praying to every god possible that Alex is somewhere to be found.

Lucy called out to you the second she saw you, beckoning you over with popcorn. You sighed and walked over, smiling at her.

“Hey look, I can’t talk for too long… have you seen Alex? Urgent question from someone at the screening.” It’s an utter lie, your mother would’ve reprimanded you for how filthy it was. But you needed to talk to him.

Lucy thought for a second, tapping her chin with her finger before she remembered. “He’s in his office, he’s always in his office, remember?” She said like it’s the most obvious thing ever. You nodded and gave a thumbs up, taking a handful of popcorn in your mouth before standing up again.

And that’s how you ended up in his office again, although you were shyer this time. If it was actually a question from a patron you’d ask it so easily, but this time it was your own. He’d have to give you an insight into his mind, you weren’t sure if he had ever done that before.

Your foot tapped lightly as you knocked on the door to his office, you heard him shuffle some papers around and groan.

“Come in.”

You have to take a deep breath before you open the door, there’s no reason this stupid movie should be making you feel this nervous but god…

“You’re gonna make me watch shitty westerns for an entire week, Turner?” You say with a small smirk, you embarrassingly had thought of your words all day. You didn’t want to just come in and ask him about why he picked your favorite film.

His eyes darted over to you the second you walked in, slowly taking you in. You had on the same skirt as last time. “I was watching one at home last night and was reminded of how brilliant the genre was. What, you don’t like a good shoot-em-up?” He asks you with raised eyebrows, leaning back slightly in his desk chair. Of course he liked westerns.

“Not my thing at all.” You replied, taking a small step closer to him. His hair was messier today than it usually was, his beard had gotten longer. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a bit, although he never looked like he got a lot of sleep. “Is it yours? Is your favorite film a western?”

He took note of how you were asking his favorite, the same way he asked yours. Smart girl. He smirked and shook his head, “Nah. My favorite film is ‘Le Samouraï’, you seen it?” Alex wouldn’t judge if you hadn’t seen it, but if you have it just might make you his favorite person on the planet.

You have to rack your brain on what you’ve heard of this film before, maybe it’s been mentioned in class before, you haven’t seen it. “No. Is that a sin?” You asked, leaning against a file cabinet in his office. His office was definitely bigger than the projection booth, he had made it very Alex.

Alex scoffed and shook his head, “I’m sad you haven’t seen it because it’s so brilliant but not mad. They haven’t taught you Melville in that expensive film school yet? You’re getting ripped off, sweetheart.” He matched your comfortable stance by leaning further back into his desk chair and crossing his legs. He had noticed that you aren’t scared of him, not even intimidated by his knowledge. He liked that, he liked talking to you.

“I’ve heard the name, we just haven’t watched it yet.” You respond, looking for the next thing to say to bring you to your point. “But I guess you’ve seen my favorite film, right? I saw you included Mulholland Drive in the lineup, was that a coincidence or are you being deliberate?”

Alex laughed at your words, of course you picked up on that. You really were too smart for your own good. “Well I suppose it’s a bit of both. I wanted something different in case not every regular audience member was on board with my westerns-’ he paused to roll his eyes, as if that thought disgusted him, “but yes. I figured it might be a pleasant surprise for someone with a discerning taste.” His eyes met yours and he smiled again, mostly because he saw a smile creeping on your face. He wanted to keep you smiling.

There was something about him admitting that it’s for you that made you feel… something. You didn’t quite know what. Maybe excited? You were excited and felt validated that he found your taste in film good enough to put on a lineup. You liked that he was perceiving you. “You’re saying you picked it for me? And here I thought you were just gonna be cryptic... What's your angle here?” You asked him; the smile was still on your face, but now your eyebrows were raised.

“Ah.” Alex uncrossed his legs, finally standing up. He got a little closer to you; he wanted to make stronger eye contact with you. “A great teacher back when I was in film school told me that it’s not just about what you watch; it’s about connecting. Maybe it’s all worth it if I can connect with someone who also appreciates the genius of Mulholland Drive.” Pretentious bastard; even his flirting was fucking pretentious. You would’ve made fun of him if you weren’t fighting back a blush.

You took another second to decide your words; it wasn’t often you were speechless, but you were now. "Well, I didn’t expect you to remember, let alone care enough to do that. Maybe there’s more to you than I thought... but don’t get any ideas about being my hero because you saved me from a complete week of westerns.” You had to throw an quip in there; without it, you thought your words felt too… vulnerable. You weren’t sure you were there with Alex yet.

He had to admit that you were funny, even if it was obvious what you were trying to say. He let out a laugh and shook his head. “I’m not trying to be your hero, sweetheart. I just figured that someone who loves the film as much as you deserves to see it on the big screen. Even if it’s from your tiny projection booth.”

His words, once again, leave you stunned. That was really sweet—maybe the top 5 sweetest things anyone had ever done for you. It was almost impossible not to blush and grin at him, and your body betrayed you by making you step forward. “Yeah? That’s… nice. But if you’re not trying to impress me, what’s your real game here? Or do you just have a thing for making people feel special?” You asked him; your smile was somewhere between teasing him and being genuinely flattered.

“You are special.” He responded, also taking a step forward. You started to feel his breath on your face; somehow just this one conversation had made you go from being terrified of him and thinking he’s so pretentious to wanting him.

As if he could read your mind, he reached forward and placed his hand on your hip, giving it a small squeeze. “Maybe I just enjoy challenging expectations; I can’t always be the mysterious bastard in the office. And like I said, you’re special.” His voice lowered, and his face got impossibly closer to yours.

Against all odds of being at work, and that just a week ago you thought he was the most confusing man on the planet, you needed to fucking kiss him. And you did; you took a half step forward and smashed your lips against his. He kept his hand on your hip, squeezing the soft skin as he pushed your back against the filing cabinets. You guessed that he wanted you as bad as you wanted him because he was practically sucking your face; you thought that was just a saying. It was an absolute mess of tongue on tongue and teeth on teeth; your noses even collided a few times as his beard scratched your face. It was uncomfortable in the best way; it was damn hot.

You moaned the very first second you felt his hand grope at your ass and his mouth slip from your lips to your neck. “So fucking pretty, so good,” he muttered before he started to attack your neck. It was an added sensation to have his beard pressing against you alongside his mouth (and teeth; he almost teethed at you). He definitely would leave more marks than just hickeys, but you were so in pleasure you didn’t even have time to think of work.

Oh fuck, work. You cursed silently to yourself and looked up at the clock, just as his hand started to snake under your blouse and over your bra, giving your tit a nice squeeze. “Fuck!” you called out, not just from the intense pleasure but from the fact that you only had another 30 minutes left before you told yourself you needed to be back in the booth. In an ideal world, you’d have an entire night with him.

He continued his mouth’s attack on your neck and hand’s attack on your breasts, feeling his pants start to become tighter; he could only imagine how wet you were. His fantasies were interrupted by you pulling him away and sighing, trying to catch your breath. “Alex… Alex I don’t have much time before I need to go. Do you want-”

He interrupted you this time with his hand coming up to squeeze your lips together, promptly making you shut up. “You got enough time for me to fuck you? Because I’m going to fuck you,” he said as if he'd already decided, and then he started to work with the hand not on your face to unbuckle his belt.

You weren’t able to really form words, so you just whined and nodded, giving him that permission he wanted. He took it quickly, flipping you over and bending you over his desk, your tiny skirt riding up so he could get a view of your pants. You were soaked; he knew you would be. His large thumb started to trace your folds before he made a ‘tsk’ noise and flipped you over again. He wanted to see your face, he decided. Alex Turner was nothing if not confusing.

“This wet only from a little kissing, god, sweetheart, I didn’t know I was dealing with a slut. Although I could’ve guessed from these tiny skirts you keep wearing.” His voice is cool and calm, a complete contradiction from how sinful his words were. You whined at them.

“Alex please. We don’t have much time; please just fuck me!” You cried out, hastily pulling your skirt down so he had easier access. Alex nodded and began to work faster on pulling his pants down. He was so goddamn aroused watching you act like this; you were such a gorgeous girl, and now he had you completely under his control. You moaned loudly, and he grunted, bringing his hand up over your mouth.

“Sweetheart, I’d love to hear all those pretty little noises, but not now. I’m not getting fired because you had to talk all sweet to me and get bent over.” It was an unholy whisper into your ears, causing your skin to shiver. You nodded, and he took that as a sign to slip your panties down. “Knew you’d have a pretty cunt.”

If it was even possible, his words caused you to get even wetter. You could’ve guessed that he was big from the hardness in his jeans, but by the time he slipped his pants and boxers off, you were left gasping against his hand. There was an underlying fear—how the hell was that supposed to fit inside of you?—but also a great arousal because THAT was supposed to be inside of you. Alex tilted his head down to look at your pussy before he smirked, adjusting himself so he could get closer to your entrance.

Your cunt started to clench around nothing, getting excited just at the sheer closeness of his cock. He looked at your entrance again before he spat on his hand and started to rub it along his length as extra lubrication. “I don’t want to hurt you, babygirl,” he whispered before gently forcing the head into your heat, causing you to scream against his hand.

He shushed you again as he kept pushing himself further in; all of your tiny moans and whines were hidden by his hand, but that was for the best; he’d hear them eventually. You were so tight, so warm, and in that very moment Alex decided he was never going to fuck another girl in his life.

When he bottomed out, you gave in and bit at his hand; it was the only way you could keep an actual scream from coming out. You felt so full, you could even feel him throbbing in your cunt (or maybe that was your walls clenching; it could be both). He smirked and started to move, setting a pace that was relentless. He’d prefer to take you apart slower, but you didn’t exactly have the time for that.

His cock was hit every spot in you that made you mewl and arch your back; it was like he knew things about your body that you didn’t. His eyes were focused like you were one of those damn emails he was always writing; it was hot to you that he was that focused on your pleasure. Gentle grunts started to fall out of his mouth as the hand not on your mouth came up to twist at your nipples. The pleasure was starting to become unbearable, and you weren’t sure how much longer you had until you started crying.

You knew you were close when a particularly hard thrust caused your eyes to roll so far back in your head it hurt, so you brought your thumb down to your clit. You needed to cum, and you didn’t care what you had to do to achieve that.

Alex cared though; he wanted to be the one to make you cum. He took his hand off of your nipple and smacked yours off your clit, causing you to whine at the loss of sensation. “None of that. If you needed that, you could’ve just asked,” he grunted, bringing his thumb down to your sensitive bud. It was a funny thing for him to say, as you couldn’t exactly speak, but you still bucked up at his manipulation.

His pace started to become sloppy; you knew he was close too. His breath was also starting to become staggered, and you could almost see a tremble in his legs. You’d never seen him this undone, and it was so damn arousing that you caused it. Alex had already memorized all the spots that made you shake and whine; he knew you were close, so he made sure to hit them all on his thrusts. He knew he didn’t have much time left, and he wanted to make sure you didn’t leave unsatisfied.

It was a particular stroke where he somehow managed to hit your g-spot and pinch your clit at the same time that had you over the top. You felt your legs start to shake and your back arched. You were sure the noises coming from your mouth were starting to get louder than his hand-cranked control, but you didn’t care. You didn’t even care when your hand spilled the pencil cup on his desk all over the floor. All you cared about was that you were cumming and he was making you cum.

Alex grinned at the sight of you becoming this undone because of him. That was what sent him over the edge—the idea that it was his work that just made you coat his member in juices. He pushed until the last second, until his cock was actually twitching, and then he pulled out. The loss of contact was hardly noticed, and he came all over his office floor just by seeing how fucked out you were. You still hadn’t caught your breath, but you were watching him with awe. His dick was really damn nice, and now it was leaking so much cum onto the floor.

He collapsed onto his desk chair and reached for a tissue from his desk. He wiped off his cock before tucking it back into his boxers and then wiped off your pussy, cleaning up the table too. He threw the tissue away and made a mental note to take his own office trash out later.

Once you had caught your breath enough, you stood up, legs still wobbly, and put your pants back on. It took a second, but eventually you had them and your skirt on. Alex just smirked at you.

“That was... good,” you said with a small smile. You were starting to get shy being around him; you just fucked him, and now you had to go back to work.

“It was. You’re uh, you’re perfect. I meant it when I said you’re special.” His smirk turns into a genuinely warm smile, and he brings his thumb up to trace your chin. There was a faint mark on your mouth from him keeping you quiet. You looked down at his cum on the floor, raising your eyebrows in a silent offer to clean it up. He just shook his head; he’d deal with that.

You nodded and sighed, “I should probably get back to work... I don’t look like I just had sex, do I?” Your hair was slightly messy and your shirt was wrinkled, but it also always was. “No one will notice sweetheart,” he replied with a bit of a laugh. He was glad this was your secret.

"Right, uh, thank you, Alex?” It comes out as a question; you’re not sure if you should thank your co-worker for making you cum like that. He shook his head and stood up. “No, thank you for being such a damn good fuck and a special girl.”

You smiled at this; his words gave you a slight hope that maybe this would happen again. You opened his door when he called out to you.

“Sweetheart, I was thinking that maybe I could come up with you and watch Mulholland Drive next week.” It was an optimistic idea; he was worried that you only wanted to fuck. But you grinned and nodded, “I’d really love that; we even have a couch up there.”

He chuckled and stepped closer to you, placing his hand on your chin again. “A couch, fancy!” He joked before he pressed a singular peck on your lips; he wanted you to know that you meant something more than a fuck in the only way he knew how. He wasn’t exactly the best with words. You laughed back at him.

“Alright then, it’s a date.” You grinned at him before leaving his office; you would’ve stayed longer, but time really was running out. You were so lucky that Lucy seemed to be on a bathroom break; you didn’t have to deal with her asking why you were in Alex’s office for so long.

When you got settled back in the projection booth and the credits began to roll, you took a minute to think about what the fuck had just happened, and when you opened your phone, the list of his stupid fucking westerns was still on it. But that was Alex, and maybe you liked that about him.

A/N: yeah like i said... self indulgent (i used to work at a cinema lol). but i'm already obsessed with this version of alex ahh.

#andbreakmynose #alex turner fanfic #alex turner fic #alex turner smut #alex turner x fem!reader #alex turner x reader #alex turner x you #fanfic #alex turner #arctic monkeys smut

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darbonime · 9 days ago

Text

reunion

contains: smut, blowjob, a bit of fluff, ya’ll just read.

word count: 3.9k

A notification with message appears on his phone. Alex noticed it only because he was monitoring the phone all day. Usually, he doesn’t give a shit about the phone in general, it’s always somewhere and he doesn’t know where and he’s fine with it. But today she must have come back. Finally.

She is away in Paris with one of her colleagues. It is about work. Alex didn’t show it back then, when she said about that trip, but he wasn’t excited, considering that there’s some man colleague with her. He was respectful about it, and he had no choice anyway. His grouchiness became more evident though. He has that habit of mumbling something under his nose, that habit is a common thing for him like other ones – overthinking or trying to keep everything bottled up.

“They say it’s snowing hard in London. No way we fly today. Flight is delayed.”

The message made him groan quietly. He runs hand over his face slightly shaking his head in disappointment. It is showing hard. Alex glances at the window. He can see blurry buildings and streetlights, rushing people and lots of show. He thought about it even in the morning while he had a cup of coffee. He wasn’t a fan of snow or rain. He was a simple man at this point. He liked the sun. It just shines and doesn’t try to make any trouble for you.

“I’m sorry I won’t be able to come back today.” Another message.

He just puts the phone away. Tired sigh sounds all over the room. He gets up from the stool in the kitchen and moves to the bedroom with bitterness inside and a lump in the throat. The light is turned off everywhere. He climbed into bed, making the sheets rustle in the silence of a room. In the silence of the apartment. It drove him right to the edge slowly. Alex sighs deeply again and just places an arm over his face. Curtains don’t let in a lot of light in the bedroom and that pressuring on him too.

He didn’t want to be clingy. Just, a week has passed already. He really did miss her. And that man. He should have said about his concerns before, she would have listened to him, reassured him. She always does. Now he regrets it. It’s always so tough to let out the words when it’s not singing. His body needs familiar warm of her body. The soft affectionate tone she has. Who would have thought he got so anxious without her presence, even though it’s just one week? When did he miss the moment, he got so attached?

Next day he woke up in no mood as previous days exactly. The stress caused him to have some unpleasant and creepy glimpses of dreams that bothered his sleep and made him toss and turn. He didn’t go straight to the phone making himself wait not desiring to see there any other possible unpleasant news. He brushed his teeth, made the bed tidy as possible and then made coffee. The weather outside was peaceful compared to yesterday. No snow. And the sun is out. Alex couldn’t stop tiny smile from appearing.

He finally sat down sipping coffee not needing any more for a breakfast, scratched his own side a bit and shirt lifted a bit revealing hint of skin that has been untouched for long. He picked up the phone from exactly where he left it. Alex noticed a few messages from yesterday and a few texts from today thirty minutes ago.

“I had an awful night in the airport hotel.”

“But now we stand in the queue for boarding!”

“I’m really concerned that you didn’t answer yesterday…”

“Hope you just was sleeping already.”

That woman has a habit of texting few messages instead of just big one. Alex exhaled scrolling down.

“Remember the plan! I will wait for you in the airport.” That last message has emoji of kiss in the end of it, and he grins stupidly.

They do have a plan. He will pick her up at the airport. Maybe, he will be polite enough and give that colleague guy a ride to the tube. Just maybe. But he would prefer not to.

Now Alex feels contented, a bit giddy. The woman he loves deeply is going home. He hopes the sky is clear and the flight is good. She gets nervous during take off and turbulence, when they fly together, he always holds her hand. That guy better not get touchy… As thought crosses his mind, he feels a twinge of distress but doesn’t let it escalate. He gets up and washes the cup after coffee.

The thoughts of possible ways of reuniting fill his mind. A dinner together finally, and then a movie, or maybe making love instead of movie. A little trace of smirk on his lips.

He looks around slightly. Alex has nothing to do in the apartment. Its clean, because he’s the most careful and neat man on a planet, probably, in comparison to her. She’s a certified mess. When they just started living, he thought it’s a hell. They had lots of arguments about it. Now they are both came to terms with that. She tries to be cleaner, and he tries to be calm about the way she makes a mess everywhere. Though it’s lonely without her chaos, he thinks.

The lingering smell of cigarettes is usual for their place. It’s the only thing that ruins the neatness of their place. Alex smokes on the balcony but strong and bitter smell is is apartment’s air lingers there always as on his hair and clothes.

He starts to get ready, wanting to look a bit better than usual. Clothes, perfume. That one was her present on the previous Christmas for him. She said back then that she had no idea what to buy, but that one made her think of him, and he accepted the perfume with a sincere smile and grown quite fond of it. That perfume is dim with a woody undertone and doesn’t cause headaches for both of them. He hoped she would notice the perfume. Alex slips into his grey coat wrapping a scarf around his neck and fastening the buttons. Keys in his hands already. Glancing in the mirror and fixing hair he left the apartment.

When he leaves the building, the wind is enveloping him, it’s howling in his ears, and for a second he closes eyes feeling a shiver, trying to adjust to the freezing-ass weather. Alex gets in the car as soon as possible rubbing his hands and starting the car.

The ride was calm, he had gotten into small traffic because of the yesterday snow, but it quickly dissolved. Near the airport he became nervous. Lots of people, lots of cabs.

“Bloody ‘ell.” he mumbles, running fingers through his tousled hair driving slowly parallelly to exits of airport.

Alex scans the place to find some corner to park the car. He was going to park the car, and like a civilized person meet her inside of the airport. Exactly as they planned. Until he saw a familiar face with a wide grin. Contrast loud knock in the window. Nothing can be normal with her… He chuckles and leans to open the passenger seat.

“Alex!” she exclaimed slamming the door shut making Alex flinch slightly. She throws bag on the backseat and then tugging his face placing an unexpected kiss right on his lips. He hummed surprised in kiss trying to back away gently.

“Love– “ a honk can be heard from the back as other driver waiting for a way to drive. “Aye, I’m drivin’! For fuck’s sake...” he grumbles starting to drive. “Hate airports. So hectic.” says Alex as they start to leave the airport behind.

She stares at him with a satisfied full smile. She’s finally home. Familiar London, familiar atmosphere, familiar grumpy Alex that hates bustle. She is clearly happy to see him after all that week. He wasn’t the one who was missing the closeness. It’s mutual. Snow is starting to fall outside again, but it’s a light one. It sparkles and makes her mesmerized a bit. She pats his knee lovingly.

“So… Christmas soon. Did you decorate our cozy little place?” she teases him slightly.

He glances at her, making out only the one sound. “Uh…”

Speaking of bustle and Alex. Christmas is a bustle. A fuss. Tiring and loud. He doesn’t like Christmas. But she likes only Christmas out of all holidays. So, anything for her. They always decorate their apartment and that makes her light up like one of the lights on the garland. She always tries everything to do herself and he always stands behind to catch or help her, because he is still having it bad for her. That’s why a week without her makes him ache and that’s why he will help her make their place shine like a goddamn Christmas tree.

“No comments. I got it.” she chuckles, shaking her head amused.

Silence settled in the car. Alex wanted to ask about Paris, about that guy. She mentioned the guy even before the trip; she thought he’s a good employee in their field, also that he was like a puppy around her and too friendly. He wasn’t jealous. He wasn’t against gentleman behaviour. It just doesn’t sit right with him. There’s no fear that she will cheat. But crossing thoughts in his mind about some subtle caresses that this guy could try on her, the gentler tone he might talk with her, just the possibility made him annoyed, and he couldn’t help himself.

“That colleague, the one ya had a trip with, where is he by the way?” he asks with slight grumpiness, throwing a glance at her.

“Got a cab for himself.” she says casually shrugging, and he nods. Good, that he went his way, he thinks.

She looks at him, seeing the light frown hanging on his beautiful face, sensing something is up.

Ride is continuing, the hum of car is stable. His one palm lying securely but relaxed and confident on a leathered wheel, while the other one placed on his thigh. Eyes passing over changing scenery concentratedly taking everything in. The palm on a wheel runs over it gracefully and effortlessly from time to time. She bets he has no idea that even the way he drives the car is an art.

Snow is still falling creating the festive atmosphere. People rushing outside nestled in lots of clothes. There are middle-aged women sitting on the bench and gossiping, some man is carrying a Christmas tree on his shoulder trying his best and few girls with coffee cups laughing. Snow is crunching underfoot. Garlands are on windows in people’s apartments; storefronts are decorated already making it hard to skip them. Holiday is in the air.

When they get back into apartment, she finally breaks the ice addressing elephant in the room. “Al, is something wrong? You seem down.”

Alex sighs brushing the snow off the coat. And kicking the boots off after placing them together neatly. He didn’t really want to discuss it. It wasn’t something that needed to be discussed, he thinks. It will pass soon because she’s here so why he should worry about anything? There’s absolutely no need to show how vulnerable he is without her. Everything is under control. Right?

“Okay, that sigh is already means that something is wrong.” she is trying to prepare herself mentally for tough talk. Making a few strides towards him she puts her palms onto his slightly sagged shoulders.

“It’s ‘kay.” he mutters with low voice of his, eyes running over everything in the apartment but not her face. Wall, door, own hands.

She sees him through. At least now. He is too sophisticated to see throughout him fully. It’s impossible to know him completely and that upsets her. The desire to know every corner of his mind, every little fast thought in his gorgeous mind, every favourite places on his body. Entirely. Mentally and physically.

His lovely eyes are lying now.

“Al, look at me.” she cups his cheeks feeling stubble with her palms.

She makes him look at her and sees the deepest vulnerability in them, the apologize for that vulnerability, barely noticeable shame that he tries to hide so hard. Her own eyes are filling with sorrow and pain for him.

She wraps her arms around his neck pulling him in the balmy embrace and Alex leans in without a second thought. His face finds the base of her neck sensing her scent and sugary perfume. His arm is wrapping around her waist, and other hand is cupping the back of her head feeling her with all body as they pressed to each other. She runs her nose slowly and tenderly over his collar blade leaving a light kiss in the end. They don’t talk, just absorb each other’s warmness, sharing energy and love between each other.

She hums sniffing his neck. “The one I got for you on previous Christmas.” she affirmed and a little smiles creep on his face, pleased that she noticed the detail.

She backed away from him just a bit keeping him close, finding his face with her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” her loving, yet firm and demanding answer gaze, made him run finger into his hair anxiously under the force of her stare.

“Jus’ missed ya. That colleague guy also didn’t make any good for me…” his voice deeper as he uses all willpower to talk, but falters at the end of the thought his wants to express. He breathes out heavily shaking his head and his fingers in the hair again just trying to be composed now messing them to the different sides. “I don’t know.” he lets out a quiet chuckle, as he is at a loss for words, he looks up at her. His hand, a bit rough and calloused, reaches for her chin making few light caresses only to lower it down back on her waist again.

Her eyes darting over his face, over every wrinkle that formed on his face with age, contemplating his little awkward smile. No, that man for sure doesn’t know how cute he is. His barely noticeable smile made her smile too as reassuring him. She leans leaving a careful kiss in the corner of his dry lips after chilly wind outside.

“So… My colleague.” she begins watching his reaction.

“Jus’ don’t like him.” he mutters a short answer with a loud exhale. “He seems… I don’t know… Have no explanation.” Alex would like to stop there and not escalate the talk, and she senses it, nodding. Her delicate hand strokes his shoulder, making him at peace. Tranquillity is settling in his body and soul, making anxiousness and frustration disappear. He feels better now. Messy thoughts left his mind. All is residing is coziness and intimacy.

She leans in to kiss him properly after all the days of forced separation, and he can’t turn down the kiss. At the beginning the kiss is sweet and silky. Further gripping the waist harder, he insists a bit more, closing the eyes falling further into the kiss. The intimate moment makes them melt into each other completely. Demanding a deeper kiss, he senses she opens her mouth for him so he could slip the tongue inside. The warmth of her mouth and sensation of her tongue against his is making him desperate and hungry for prolongation.

She can’t stop only on lips determined to continue she carefully tilts his neck for a better access and keeps the palm there keeping his head on one place, her thumb caresses slowly the length of his neck which makes Alex breath out shakingly.

“On the couch…” she throws softly leading him to their living room. The scent of cigarettes is still there. The room has a dim light from the street, soon it gets dark. “Sit down, baby. Relax.”

He knows what is going to happen and he can say undoubtedly, there’s no better reunion than he could imagine. As Alex settles on couch, she is on his lap, nipping his neck very lightly to tease him. His hand instinctively sneaks under her sweater lingering on her lower back knowing he will get an instant reaction – she arches gripping his shoulder firmly.

“Alex…” she clenches shirt on his shoulder a bit harder, letting out half a hiss and half a whimper.

That’s what he thought, ghost smirk is on his lips. He doesn’t bother to answer, everything is clear for both of them. His breath is stuck in his throat as she slips down on the floor. What a sight. She’s on her knees fidgeting with button and zipper on his jeans, quite persistent to take them off as quickly as possible. He shifts on a couch closer to her so she can do it faster.

“Yes, sit on the edge of the couch…” she mumbles encouraging him.

Her fingers trembling a bit from excitement as she rushes to free him. She feels his obvious arousal that is begging to be out of imprisonment. Separation made him more sensitive, and his patience is wearing off.

She doesn’t stand on ceremony tugging his jeans down and off when she finally could concentrate and deal with button and zipper. The view of familiar pair of dark blue boxers makes her even more eager. She starts with peppering kisses on his thighs. Sensitively, slowly, to show how much she craves him, she knows he needs it. He lets out groan and his hand grips the edge of couch.

Her index finger hooks the elastic of his boxers only to snap it back. Alex huffs and his other hand is finding her head gripping hair a bit tugging her a bit closer to the prominent bulge.

“Don’t… Just, please…” his voice is husky and gruff, the need is obvious, and she can’t refuse.

She pulls out his strained cock, lowering boxers down. Making a ring of her fingers she moves it over his length, from the base to the tip and back, his hips meet her hand halfway letting out a curse. Her mouth is dealing with wet tip already, leaving feather kisses with attentiveness yet relaxed expression on her face, clearly enjoying it, licking off even the smallest amount of liquid.

“Fuck me.” he hisses through teeth clenching the handful of her hair, carrying away already. His head is tilting back on the back of the couch, as she changes the tactic now moving her full palm over his cock. Slowly at the beginning, and faster then. He lifts his head slightly to observe her. She looks up at him, only to see his flushed face and hooded dark eyes and heavy breath escaping his mouth.

She stretches her lips around his cock and starts taking him into warmth of her mouth, starting to finally suck him. Rough and hoarse moan left his lips, as his cock is burying deeper and deeper with each second. Only he thought he would reach the sweet back of her throat, when she pulled it out with wet pop making him groan and unconsciously gripping the hair harder in the process. She is taking long slow licks, lapping along all shaft, torturing him and at the same time making his body shudder in delicious pleasure. The bend of her tongue is feeling every vein tracing the form swirling at the tip which brings him closer to the edge with every second.

With no words he nudged her head closer making her open mouth wide again and starting thrust his hips into her throat collectedly taking the control. Letting out whispered curses under breath mixed with intense moans, Alex shakes his head, trying to get rid of dizziness. He runs his fingers through his hair, trying to move them away from sticky with sweat forehead. Muffled moans sneak out from her full mouth, spit from corners of mouth messing the couch and few droplets fell on the floor already. Her hands grip his tensed thighs feeling how heated his body had gotten.

Slight twitches of his cock inside her mouth are telling about how close he is. She feels her jaw is getting tighter and it’s hard to take the full length, but she knows there is no way out. She moves her head just further, shutting her eyes as he is stuffing her mouth fully with no more room inside left. He moans gravelly shifting his hips, finally hitting the back of her throat. The room was filled with sloppy sounds, her dull moans, and his in contrast loud moans. It is already darker outside, so in the room. If a person would walk in, they would only make out two dark silhouettes in moment of pure lust and the long-awaited connection.

“Open eyes.” he breathes heavily, overwhelmed with sensation. Alex makes a light tug of hair trying to get her attention. “Look at me, darlin’.” his thick voice is carrying desperation for release.

When she opens her glassy eyes, looking up he pushes a bit more, letting out an immediate moan, going senseless over how tip of shaft is feeling against her throat. Alex follows with his eyes her parted mouth and can’t hold back anymore. He can’t hold back anymore.

“Just a– “ strained load moan interrupts his speaking; he is gasping for air as his hand grips her hair keeping head in the right place spilling into her, he moves his hips a couple more times to ride out the orgasm and then he stops. She shuts her eyes again feeling tears in the corner of eyes. He pulls out his cock, licking his lips feeling they sting because of dryness and wipes forehead with back of palm.

Swallowing him down, she blinks few times trying to have a full breath after whole experience, looking up at him she notices that he is already leaning to help her get on her feet.

“C’mon, love. Get up. Come here, floor ‘s cold.” Alex tugs her on his lap, his shoulders a bit drooped after release, but he still is making sure to take care of her.

The room is quiet now, harshly quiet in comparison how it was seconds ago. She climbs on his lap, sensing familiar close scent and tenderness, nestling her head against his chest she closes her eyes trying to gain energy for existing at least for few minutes before she dozes off as always after intimacy. He leans on the couch feeling gratified, he wraps her arms around her securely.

“Okay?” he mumbles, not ruining the stillness of the moment.

She only hums, and her hand reassuringly strokes his chest.

“I carried away…” Alex murmurs, trace of guilt is clear in his deep honey-like voice. She shakes her head.

“I wanted to give you a release. And I don’t only mean the physical one.” she whispers drowsily. He sighs, just hugging her tighter.

She knew back then he didn’t tell her the entire truth. He did need a release, in both ways. And now he had it.

a/n: i finally got unshadowbanned thanks tumblr. i was changing plot during writing and i still have no clue if i like it.

#alex turner #alex turner fanfic #alex turner fic #alex turner x fem!reader #alex turner x reader #alex turner x y/n #alex turner x you #alex turner fluff #alex turner smut

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