#fetus alex turner x reader

[captainwans]

SUCK IT AND SEE.

— ALEX TURNER

pairing: fwn!alex turner x fem!reader

summary: two people are stuck in an elevator. one can’t stand the other, and the other has a panic attack. talk about the perfect time to spill their feelings, right?

warning: vulgar language, mention of panic attack, neurotic reader, angst to fluff.

word count: 1,5k | ( picture not mine! )

note: the idea was from a prompt that i found on pinterest!

masterlist!

… ALEX FELT THE ELEVATOR SHAKE, making him tightly clutch on the metal pole with a deep grimace as the felt the elevator come to a sudden stop. He loudly cursed and brought his hand to push numerous of buttons on the panel. When that didn’t work he groaned and looked at the one person he loathed the most. “Great, now we’re stuck, thanks to you.”

[Y/N] whirled her head toward him, eyes wide. “What the fuck did I do? You were the one who assaulted the buttons.” She snapped back as she stood across from him. She felt her heart palpitate, the tight space making her breath hitch, which went unnoticed by the latter, who was too busy abusing the control help button.

Alex scoffed, his scowl deepening when the buttons didn’t work. He slammed his palm on the panel as small curses emitted from his lips. “If you keep doing that, we’re never going out.” He heard her spat, making him roll his eyes.

“Oh, please. Is there somewhere else you’re supposed to be?” He sneered, turning his head to look at her glaring daggers at him.

“Yes, anywhere away from you.” She chided, chest heaving as her stammering heart made her nausea worse. She hugged herself, avoiding eye contact and looked at the glass, watching the people below them. Her eyes darted across the mass trying to look for Jamie and Katie.

“Feeling’s mutual.” A pulse roared in her throat, making her turn her body away from him to prevent him from seeing her panicked state. Her skin prickled with a cold sweat as goosebumps formed into her skin making her close her eyes.

Alex was too caught up into his own frustration that he didn’t notice [Y/N] slowly crumble, being too occupied with the control panel as he held the help button for a few seconds. He cursed once again, his eyes leaving the panel before looking the glass and looking for any signs of their friends through the glass.

“Did you see them down there?” He asked her, eyes averting away from the people below them toward her. He narrowed his eyes at her back facing him and titled his head to the side.

She clutched her chest, fingers trembling as her voice got caught into her throat. She could only shake her head, a strangled whisper etching into her throat. Blood was rushing through her ears, feeling her heartbeat echoing inside her ears. She cleared her throat and blinked, “No.”

Alex’s face faltered, his expression turning soft. He sauntered toward her, his hand touching her shoulder. “[Y/N]?” He gently called, worry starting to prickle his chest.

She let out a strangled gasp, turning her body toward him. Tears welled inside her eyes, which she rapidly blinked and looked at him with a panicked look. “Is now a bad time to tell you that I’m claustrophobic?”

Alex’s eyes went wide, watching her knees buckling beneath her. He became frozen, not knowing what to do as he watched her skin lost all color. The young man watched her, once a bold and confident girl, was now vulnerable and fragile—like if he touched her she would break.

[Y/N]’s stifled gasps and shallow breaths turned into sobs, shoulders violently shaking as she broke down her walls. She found herself trapped into a corner, her arms tightly wrapped around herself not noticing Alex sitting crossed legged in front of her with a concerned expression.

     Each breath was a struggle for her, as if the panic had settled permanently in her lungs, squeezing the life out of her. Her hands slapped her chest vigorously, as though trying to stop her heart from escaping. She let out a whimper, burying her face with her hands.

     “I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die.” [Y/N] kept repeating, rocking herself back and forth.

“You’re not gonna die, love. Not under my watch.” Alex reassured, his tone getting softer as he brought his hands to her hands covering her face. He almost flinched at her cold hands as he brought them to his lap to warm her hands.

She felt his warm calloused hands rubbing her icy cold ones, making her hiccup as she looked at him. Her wide doe-eyes stared into his, causing a tremor of emotions sear through her.

[Y/N] bit her lip until it bleed, tasting the metallic crimson smearing with her lip gloss. She quickly turned away from him, her chest heaving and closed her eyes as she felt another wave of panic hit her.

She felt his hand rest on her cheek, turning her head to look at him. She still had her eyes squeezed shut, not wanting to look at his face. Some of her breathing regained back to normal, and she didn’t want to admit that Alex’s closure was the reason, not even to herself. She was still shaky and she felt his thumb run across her lip, making her open her eyes.

Alex wiped away the blood from her lip, his hand drifting to hold the side of her neck. “Hey, it’s okay. We’re gonna get out of here.” He promised her, using his other hand to brush away some hair from her damp forehead.

[Y/N]’s chin trembled like a child, his change of demeanor toward her making her feel conflicted. Tears slid down her glistening face and she sniffled with a nod, eyebrows furrowed as she looked at him. “Why do you hate me so much?” She managed to croaked out, sending a crack inside his heart at her question.

A tug at his heartstrings made him let out a breath he didn’t know was holding. He opened his mouth, but closed it, not knowing what to say. His chest prickled and he shook his head, eyes tinted with guilt. “I could never hate you, doll.”

[Y/N] felt his thumb removing some of her tears, his hand lingering longer on her cheek. She frowned, opening her mouth but he beat her to it, leaving her dumbfounded as she watched him say the words.

Alex felt blood rush through his cheeks and he rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish look. “Guess it’s my way of showing you that I like you.” He admitted, pressing his lips together as he watched her in anticipation.

She became speechless, like a deer was being stuck in headlights as she process what was coming out from his mouth. She could only stare at him, breathing normally as her thoughts spiraled and ran a thousand miles per hour. I like you, kept repeating inside her head like a mantra.

Alex cursed, cringing internally and he cleared his throat. “Look, we can pretend that I never confessed if you—“ he stumbled over his words and she interrupted him with a downwards pout.

“What?! You can’t just take back your confession like that!” She interjected, eyes bulging from its sockets as she brought both of her hands on his shoulders.

Alex blinked, looking at her with a flustered look. “I—uh…you—“ he was interrupted again and heat washed over his face. “That’s such a coward move, Al. Especially when I feel the same way toward you.”

The pair looked at each other, both bewildered over the situation and their feelings as they processed the new information about them. A smile curved on Alex’s face, making her mirror his simper as they both burst out with laughter.

Soft giggles emitted from her lips, her shoulders shaking as she inched closer to rest her head against his chest. He felt his hands rubbing her back comfortably, his deep chuckles filling inside her ear drums.

Soon their laughter ceased as a comfortable silence erupted around the tight space. [Y/N] was still in his arms, feeling his hands rubbing circles around her skin as she listened to his heartbeat, making her forget that they were stuck in an elevator.

The sound of banging on the elevator door made the pair snap their head toward the metal door, Alex’s grip on her tightening. “[Y/N]? Alex, are you okay in there?” They heard Jamie’s muffled voice through the door and the pair sighed in relief.

“Yeah, we’re fine, mate!” He yelled, his grip on her loosening. He stood up from his feet and walked toward the door.

The door made a noise, making [Y/N] grimace as she covered her ears. She watched Alex stepping away from the door, the metal door slowly opening.

The door opened, revealing Jamie and a few security guards holding the door. Alex’s bandmate stepped forward, eyes worried as he looked back and forth between the pair. “Thank god, I thought you guys killed each other.” He breathed, making Alex roll his eyes.

Alex walked toward her, bringing his hands out to hoist her up to her feet. She grabbed both of his hands as she stood up, hands intertwined and walking out of the elevator.

Jamie paused, looking at the pair through his sunglasses. He took off his glasses and gave them a look. “Am I hallucinating, or are you guys holding hands?” He asked, eyes narrowed and walking beside Alex.

Alex pushed him out of the way, earning a loud cackle from the latter. “I can’t believe my eyes. Katie, come and see this! They’re holding hands.” He yelled out to his girlfriend making the pair give him a look.

“Shut up, Jamie!”

[stardustloserdoll]

stop making the eyes at me i’ll stop making the eyes at you

arctic monkeys was going to perform and they were gonna play their hit song ‘i bet you look good on the dance floor.’ the lights began to dim and the group came out, the crowd erupting with cheering and yelling. alex stepped up to the microphone to say something holding it close to him.

“um. we’re the arctic monkeys, and this is i bet you look good on the dance floor.” his eyes scanned the room until they locked on mine “don’t believe the hype.” as the band began playing, the intro to the song alex kept his eyes down on his guitar until his part to sing came up.

looking up, his eyes found me once again pulling me in a trance as he sang, leaning in close to the microphone. “stop making the eyes at me i’ll stop making the eyes at you. what it is that surprises me is that i don’t really want you to.” he smirked making my face get red and hot.

as the song continued he still maintained his eye contact on me singing “i bet that you look good on the dance floor, i don’t know if you’re looking for romance or i don’t know what you’re looking for.” i noticed his smirk grew wider as he blew an air kiss making me smile. he noticed this and smiled as well.

after the song ended and the crowds cheers died down, i made my way to the bar. i ordered a drink and waited for it. “hey.” i turned around seeing alex walking up to me, blowing smoke out from his cigarette. taking a seat on the stool beside me. “i couldn’t help but notice you in the crowd.” he spoke, i raised my eyebrow “oh really? because i saw you looking at me the whole time.” i teased as my drink slid towards me. a chuckle escaped his lips as scratched the back of his head. “i guess i wasn’t that subtle huh…” his comment causing both of us to laugh.

after a few moments of silence alex and i began warming up to each other. talking and sharing things about each other, a connection growing between us as time passed. we had a couple of drinks and we were a giggling mess whispering into each others ears. a voice was heard next to us. “hey we’re about to go.” one of his friends said said pointing to the exit. “alright i’ll be there.”

he turned his attention back to me “sorry, i gotta go.” he said taking a final sip from his drink. “oh okay.” i felt sad because i really enjoyed talking to him. he bit his lip “h-hey can i um, have your number? if you don’t mind..” i grinned smiling exchanging numbers with him. “thank you. well, it was nice meeting you y/n.” he grinned getting up from his seat “it was nice meeting you too, call me.” i joked, he smiled “oh i will, as soon as i get home.”

i smiled waving goodbye to him, he waved back and began walking away. my smile faded seeing him leave, but i saw him stop and turn back waking fast up to me again. “forgot something.” he mumbled leaning in to kiss my cheek. i blushed as he pulled away “okay, bye now.” he said waving again leaving me speechless and blushing.

[goblinontour]

Awkwardly Stretching And Yawning

it’s always hard in the morning (would have been the better title but I’ve already used it)

warnings: fetus!al, fluff, smut, piv, young and in love, it’s cheesy

word count: 8k

His hair was sweaty the first time you met him, and it was sweaty every single time after that. Even in the cold, when the wind bit through your coat and left you shivering, his dark strands still clung damp to his forehead like he’d just run a marathon. He wasn’t a runner. You were sure of that — he was slow, always trailing behind like he had nowhere urgent to be. You’d once joked about it, something about snails moving faster than him, and he’d just grinned lazily, all soft lips and cockiness, like he knew something you didn’t.

Still, the sweat lingered. It made no sense, but you didn’t mind. It was the kind of detail you’d come to think of as uniquely his. Something only you knew because you were the one who reached for him. Always. Your hands threading through his hair, the damp strands slipping between your fingers as you pulled him closer — close enough to kiss, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his skin like he’d been out in the sun all day.  

Sometimes, you’d do it just to see what he’d do. Just to watch that stupid grin break across his face like it couldn’t be helped, like he couldn’t stop himself from leaning into the touch no matter how hard he tried to pull away. “Stop that.” he’d mumble, though his voice never carried any real weight, his hands always ghosting at your waist or curling around your wrists like he wanted you to keep going.  

You always did. It was impossible not to.  

And maybe you should’ve teased him more about it. His perpetually sweaty hair, his inability to keep from leaning into you — but you never did. Because when you pulled him closer, when his grin faltered just a little and his breath hitched, you felt it. That shift. Like the world had stilled, leaving only the two of you in its quiet aftermath. His hair was damp, yes, but it was real, and it was his, and you could never resist tangling your fingers into it just to feel something so alive beneath your touch. 

Now you’re in his lap, his hands splayed warm across your thighs, and your fingers are tangled in his hair like they always are. It’s still damp. Of course it is. But now you can blame it on the heater turned up to the max, the radiator rattling like it might burst, the heat heavy in the air and curling around you like smoke. It’s stifling, almost unbearable, and you swear you can feel it searing into you from across the room.  

You don’t care.  

Because you’re kissing him, and you’ve been kissing him for so long that you’ve forgotten where you are, forgotten the way the rest of the world feels. You’ve kissed him until your lips feel raw, tender and buzzing like a spark waiting to catch. Until your chest aches from holding your breath for him, like breathing was a luxury you’d trade just to stay close.  

And then you’re forced to pull away, gasping, your head swimming.  

His lips are red and slick, his hair more disheveled than it ever was before, and he’s looking at you with that expression like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. He licks his lips and it makes you want to kiss him all over again, the pull of it deep and restless in your chest.  

“Hot in here, isn’t it?” he murmurs, low and rough, words pressed out like he’s trying to catch his breath too.  

You huff a laugh, your hands sliding from his hair to his jaw, your thumbs brushing over the invisible stubble that’s just starting to show. “Yeah. Your fault, though.”  

His grin is slow and lazy, the kind of smile that makes you feel like he’s got you figured out, even when he hasn’t. “The heater?”  

“You.” you correct, nudging his forehead with yours.  

And you’re still so close you can feel his breath fan against your lips when he laughs. “I’m the problem?”  

“Always.”  

It’s teasing. You don’t mean it. Not really. Because there’s something about him that’s always been so easy, so natural, like you’ve known him your whole life, even if you hadn’t. It’s in the way he lets you pull at his hair, in the way he leans into you like you’re the only thing he needs. It’s in the way he’s looking at you now. 

You press your palms against his cheeks because you feel like you might float away without something holding you there. “You’re sweaty again.” you murmur.  

He groans, his head falling back with a dramatic thud. “It’s hot in here. Not my fault.”  

You roll your eyes, though you’re smiling. “I don’t mind.”  

“No?”  

“No.” you say, threading your fingers through his hair again, pulling just slightly so he tilts his head back to meet you. “Not if it’s you.”  

And maybe you’ve been kissing him all afternoon, maybe your lips are already swollen and your body is buzzing from the heat of him, but you kiss him again anyway. Slower this time. Like you’ve got all the time in the world. Because you do. You’re still young, and his room feels like the only place on earth that matters, and this is enough for you to live off of.  

His hair is damp, and his lips are soft, and his arms curl around you like he couldn’t hold you close enough if he tried. And for once, you don’t feel like teasing him about it. You just kiss him. 

When you break apart again his hands rest on your thighs, just barely there, and when you look at him, he’s grinning again — that slow, lopsided smile that’s all teeth and something else that makes your stomach flip. You roll your eyes at him, pressing your hands to his chest to steady yourself as you climb off, and he lets out this little whine of protest, though he doesn’t stop you.  

It’s later, and the heat of the room has settled into something quieter. You’re perched at the edge of his bed, rummaging through your bag with a growing sense of dread because, of course, you didn’t pack pyjamas. It wasn’t supposed to be an overnight thing. You were just supposed to hang out, maybe grab dinner, and then leave, but plans like that never stick when you’re with him. He’s too good at convincing you to stay longer, to forget the time.  

So now you’re stuck, turning your bag inside out like maybe a pair of shorts will appear, but nothing does. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” you mutter, looking over at him where he’s sprawled on his back, flipping a pen between his fingers.  

“What?” he asks, looking up with that innocent tilt of his head, like he hasn’t been watching you the whole time.  

You hesitate for a second before deciding not to care. “Nothing.” you mumble. You grab one of his shirts from the drawer — soft and a little worn, smelling like him — and strip off your jeans and sweater. You change with your back to him, just enough skin showing to get a reaction if he’s looking, but still leaving enough covered for modesty’s sake. His shirt hangs loose over your frame, brushing against the tops of your thighs, and you tug at the hem to make sure it’s long enough. You glance over your shoulder just in time to catch him biting his bottom lip, trying to look nonchalant about it.  

The corner of your mouth lifts. “What?”  

“Nothing.” he says, too quickly.  

You smile to yourself as you climb back onto the bed, sitting cross-legged near the pillows. “I forgot pyjamas.” you explain, tugging at the hem of his shirt again. “Totally not intentional, by the way.”  

He snorts, rolling onto his side to look at you properly, his hand propping up his head. “Sure it wasn’t.”  

“It wasn’t.” you insist. “Staying the night wasn’t the plan, remember?” You pause, biting your lip. “Is it okay? If I stay, uh, with your…”  

“Me parents?” he finishes for you.  

“Yeah.” 

His expression softens. “’Course it’s okay. They like you.”  

“Yeah?” you ask, glancing at him.  

“Yeah.” he says simply, his smile warm and a little boyish, and you know he doesn’t give it to just anyone.  

That quiet admission makes your chest ache in the best way. You watch him as he rolls out of bed, muttering something about needing to change too, and he starts pacing toward the corner where a pile of clothes sits precariously on his desk chair. You curl up beneath the blanket, watching as he picks through the heap, holding up shirts and tossing them aside.  

He’s smiling to himself as he sifts through the mess, the muscles in his back shifting under his skin. You can’t look away, even when you try to, and when he pulls his shirt off over his head, you stare. It’s instinctual, automatic. Even from a distance, you can see the little mole on the side of his ribs, and something about it makes you want to reach out and touch him, to trace the lines of him with your fingertips, to kiss him there just to see if he’ll shiver.  

You want to hold him. You want to kiss him until you can’t feel your lips again. You want to press your face into the crook of his neck and breathe him in.  

Oh, god. You’re really, terribly in love, aren’t you?  

“Eh, stop staring, you perv.” he says suddenly, teasing but his ears turn a little red as he tosses a shirt over his shoulder.  

You snap your gaze up to his face, cheeks flushing. “I’m not-”  

“Yes, you are.” he interrupts, grinning as he finally finds something that looks halfway clean. “Don’t think I don’t notice.”  

“I wasn’t staring.” you protest weakly, though you both know it’s a lie.  

He’s unbuttoning his jeans now, and you realise you hadn’t even noticed, too distracted by the more sensible top half of him. The more sensitive half, too, if you’re being honest. Ugh.  

He shimmies out of his jeans, and you bury your face in the pillow, groaning. But you don’t bury your face for long. Curiosity — or something far more dangerous — gets the better of you, and you glance up just in time to see him standing there in his boxers. The lamplight in the corner of his room catches on the soft angles of him, the long stretch of his legs, the slight dip of his hips, the way the waistband clings low. He’s lean but solid, just enough muscle to make him look effortlessly strong, the kind of strength that doesn’t demand to be noticed but somehow always is. His skin is pale in places where the sun hasn’t kissed it, and you swear there’s a faint flush climbing up his chest like maybe he knows you’re still watching.  

Then he turns, his back to you, just like you’d done when you changed earlier. He’s not subtle about it. He bends slightly as he peels off his boxers, and you don’t mean to stare — well, not really — but his butt is right there, perfectly shaped and smooth, and for a second you think about biting it, just to see what he’d do. If the bed weren’t so comfortable, if you weren’t tucked in just so, you might’ve actually gone for it.  

He knows. Of course he knows.  

“Enjoying the view?” he calls over his shoulder.  

“Shut up.” you mumble. You don’t look away.  

He’s tugging on a clean pair of boxers now. When he turns back around, he’s grinning — softly this time. He’s caught you red-handed but doesn’t mind one bit.  

You roll onto your side, pressing your face half into the pillow to hide the warmth in your cheeks. “Don’t flatter yourself.”  

He laughs, that low, throaty sound that always makes you smile. He crosses the room and climbs back into bed, the mattress dipping under his weight as he settles in beside you. 

“You stared, though.” he teases, turning his head to look at you.  

“You undressed in front of me.” you counter, narrowing your eyes at him even though you’re smiling.  

He shrugs, all nonchalance. “You started it.”  

You huff, turning to face him properly, and he’s close now, close enough that you can see the way his lashes brush his cheeks when he blinks. You want to kiss him again, but you’re too tired, too comfortable, too full of something soft and sweet that makes your chest ache.  

“What?” he murmurs, voice softer now.  

“Nothing.” you say, shaking your head.  

You’re still curled up, his shirt falling loosely around you, and when you peek at him, he’s looking at you too. 

“What?” you whisper, barely audible.  

“Nothing.” he murmurs back, shaking his head. But he’s still looking at you like you’re something he doesn’t quite know how to put into words. 

And you think, maybe, you’re looking at him the exact same way. 

“Your hair’s a mess.” 

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, well, whose fault is that? Yours.” he says immediately, propping himself up on his elbow. “You’re the one who kept running your hands through it.”  

“Because it’s always sweaty.” you shoot back, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye.  

He groans, flopping onto his back beside you. “Why do you keep bringing that up?”  

“Because it’s true.”  

“It’s endearing.” he mumbles, like he’s convincing himself.  

“It is.” you agree, and his head turns toward you, surprised. You look over at him, your expression softening. “It’s gross, but it’s cute. Like you.”  

He stares at you for a second, his lips twitching like he’s trying not to smile, and then he laughs. “You’re so mean.” he says, but his voice is fond, and he’s still smiling when he turns his head back toward the ceiling.  

“You like it.” you say. “Masochist.”

“Yeah.” he murmurs, almost to himself. “I do.”  

It’s quiet for a while after that. His arm brushes against yours as he shifts, and you think about reaching for his hand but decide against it.  

“What time is it?” you ask eventually, your voice cutting through the stillness.  

He twists to glance at the clock on his nightstand, squinting. “Half past midnight.”  

You groan, pressing your hands to your face. “I have class tomorrow.”  

“Skip it.” he says, so casual it makes you laugh.  

“You skip too much already.” you say, nudging him with your elbow.  

“Yeah, but I’m not you. You’re responsible. You’ve got, like…notes and shit.”  

“Notes and shit.” you echo, grinning.  

He shrugs, turning onto his side to face you. “It’s a compliment. You’re smart. Like, scary smart. Sometimes I think you’re gonna realise you’re too good for me and leave.”  

You blink at him, surprised by the sudden turn, and then you shake your head, rolling onto your side to face him too. “That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said.”  

“It’s true, though.” 

“Alex.” you say, reaching out to brush your fingers over his knuckles where his hand rests between you. “You’re, like, my favorite person. Ever. I’m not going anywhere.”  

He stares at you, trying to find the words, but then he just nods. “Good.” he murmurs.  

“Good.” you repeat, smiling.  

And for a while, neither of you says anything. You just lie there, the space between you warm and buzzing, and when you close your eyes, you think you could stay like this forever.

It’s quiet, the hum of the heater filling the room, and the faint rhythm of Alex’s breathing beside you is already slowing. His right arm is tucked under your waist, holding you close, while your left hand rests just beneath the curve of his chest. You can feel the rise and fall of his breaths and it’s grounding in a way that makes your eyes flutter shut.  

He’s the first to doze, just like always. It’s something you’ve come to expect from him — how his tired eyes will eventually drift shut, his breathing will even out, and the little tension in his body will melt away. Sometimes, you wonder if he fakes it, just to escape the nerves that still creep up on him when you’re this close. But not tonight. Tonight, it’s all real, all soft breaths and tiny, quiet snores that have that same nasally tone as his voice.  

You shift, feeling his arm tighten instinctively around you even in sleep, like his body knows to keep you near. He doesn’t move much when he sleeps — always calm, always still—but you’re restless. You can’t help it.  

It starts small, just a subtle roll of your hips as you try to find a better position, but it never stops there. Halfway through the night, you turn over, your arm slipping from under his chest. Then you turn again, pulling the blanket with you, and then once more until you’re on your stomach, tangled in the sheets.  

He doesn’t stir, not even when your movements tug at the arm he has slung over you. But somehow, by the time dawn starts to creep through the window, you manage to end up back where you started. It’s always a guessing game — whether you’ll wake up as you fell asleep or in some entirely different arrangement.  

This time you’ve got it and you open your eyes to his face pressed into the pillow, and his hair’s a mess, sticking up in all directions. The first light of morning spills across him, catching on the curve of his cheekbone, the line of his jaw.  

You sigh quietly, turning away from him because the proximity is too much. If you had easy access to his lips for a second longer, you’d cave, and you know it. But you can’t — not now, not with your morning breath making itself known. You cringe a little at the thought, pressing your face into the pillow.  

Oh fuck. Do you even have a toothbrush here?

The thought nags at you for a moment, but you shove it aside. Later. You’ll figure it out later.

You settle into the sheets again, your back to him, hoping to drift off for just a little longer. But then he stirs, his arm tightening around your waist as his chest presses closer to your back. His nose nudges against the back of your neck, warm and soft, and you almost melt into the touch.  

And then you feel it.  

Your body goes completely still, frozen as the unmistakable pressure of him presses against you, firm and insistent. What the fuck.

Okay, yes, you’ve slept together before — slept. As in, shared a bed, tangled limbs, whispered secrets into the night. But this? This is new.  

You’re no stranger to intimacy with him. You’ve done things — things that have left you breathless, aching, satisfied. You’ve seen him naked, and he’s seen you. You’ve taken him in your mouth, made him groan your name. He’s touched you, too, kissed you there, made you come undone with his tongue and fingers in ways you didn’t know were possible. Equally mutual satisfactory fulfilment. 

But you haven’t done it together. Not yet. Not because you don’t want to, but because time has never been on your side. It’s always been a stolen moment here, a rushed goodbye there. Too much tension and not enough space to let it all unravel.  

You bite your lip, your mind racing. He’s so close, too close, and the heat pooling between your thighs is impossible to ignore. You’re…oh, God, you’re dripping just thinking about it. But now isn’t the time — not with his parents in the room down the hall, not with him lost in his dreams, innocent in his state of unintentional desire.  

You shift slightly, trying to ease the tension without waking him, but it only makes things worse. The movement causes him to press against you more firmly, and you have to bite back a whimper.  

Okay, okay, breathe. Think unsexy thoughts. Math equations. Old textbooks. Your friend’s crush on her weird philosophy professor.

But none of it works when his hand tightens on your hip and his body is so warm against yours.  

“Alex.” you whisper, barely audible, hoping he doesn’t wake up but also kind of hoping he does because then maybe-

No. No, not now. Later. Later, when you have more time and privacy and not the looming threat of his parents overhearing something they definitely shouldn’t.  

You squeeze your eyes shut, willing your body to calm down, and after a few agonizing minutes, you feel his grip slacken, his body relaxing again. His breathing evens out and he’s still fast asleep. You exhale shakily, trying to steady yourself, and then close your eyes again, determined to fall back into some semblance of rest.  

Later, you tell yourself again. And God, you hope later comes soon. 

But later seems to be now because before you can settle yourself, you feel it — him, again. His hips shift behind you, pressing insistently against you, the heat and firmness of him unmistakable. He’s…rutting into you.  

Your breath catches, heart racing, and you think, No. He has to still be asleep. Right?

The soft, steady rhythm of his snores continues, only confirming it. And then they falter, turning into a deep, rough cough that rattles through his chest. He stirs, pulling back from you just enough to stretch, his arm leaving your waist. You can hear his joints pop as he yawns, long and loud.  

You don’t dare move, still frozen, thighs pressed tightly together in an effort to keep your body from betraying you.  

He turns toward you, his eyes heavy-lidded and his hair sticking up in every direction, but there’s no mistaking it: he’s awake now. And yet, the duvet is still covering him from the waist down, doing nothing to hide the outline of him. Oh, he’s very much awake.  

“Morning.” he whispers, his voice deep and scratchy, rough from sleep.  

“Morning.” you manage, though it comes out quieter, tighter.  

He doesn’t seem to notice, instead rolling onto his back and stretching again. You take the opportunity to lean over, pressing your face into the spot between his arm and chest. The crook of his armpit, warm and soft, the place where his skin smells the most like him. You inhale deeply, savoring the scent of him, that mix of sweat and soap and something you can’t describe but is so unmistakably Alex.  

He huffs a laugh, looking down at you as you nuzzle into him like a cat. “You weirdo.” he murmurs, his hand lazily brushing over your back.  

You’re too caught up in the warmth of him, in the way your nose fits perfectly there, in how his skin feels against yours even through the thin fabric of his shirt to respond. 

He shifts again, turning onto his side and pulling you with him, his arm draping over your waist. His thigh hitches over your hip, pulling you closer, and it’s only then that you feel him again.  

Pressed against you, hard and obvious, and he doesn’t even realise it. You hold your breath as he rubs against you, slow and absentminded, his body moving on instinct alone. It’s clear his brain hasn’t caught up yet. He’s still in that hazy space between sleep and waking, where dreams and reality blur together.  

But you are fully aware. Too aware. Every nerve in your body is alight, and the ache between your thighs is impossible to ignore.  

“Alex.” you whisper, your voice trembling just enough to give you away.  

He hums in response, his nose brushing against your shoulder as he pulls you even closer. His hand rests on your hip, his thumb stroking idly over the fabric of his shirt that you’re wearing, and he presses against you again.  

Your resolve is hanging by a thread, your body screaming for you to move, to push back, to let this moment become what it so desperately wants to be.  

But his breathing evens out again, and his lips brush your shoulder in a subconscious kiss, soft and lazy.  

“Alex.” you say again, a little louder this time, and his eyes finally flutter open, the hazy warmth in them clearing as his mind catches up to his body.  

“Oh, fuck.” he mutters, his cheeks flushing as he freezes, his hand still on your hip. “Oh, fuck.” he mutters again, louder this time, his face going beet red as he pulls back the covers to confirm what he already knows.  

And yep, there it is. His hard-on, unapologetic and obvious, tenting his boxers in a way that would’ve been funny if he weren’t so mortified.  

“Shit.” he hisses, scrambling to cover himself again. He turns away from you in his panic, rolling onto his stomach like that’ll fix it.

It doesn’t.  

As soon as his hips hit the mattress, he lets out a strangled noise, his face scrunching in pain.  

“Fuck- ow-” He twists awkwardly, trying to lift his hips off the bed, his voice breaking into a groan as he clutches the duvet beneath him.  

You can’t help it — you laugh. It’s not a mean laugh, more like a surprised, delighted giggle that bubbles out before you can stop it. “Alex.” you manage, caught somewhere between concern and amusement.  

He’s still half-buried in the mattress, his arms bracing against the bed, trying to hold himself up without putting pressure on his…situation. “Don’t.” he grumbles, his voice muffled. “Don’t laugh at me.”  

“I’m not.” you lie, even as your shoulders shake with barely contained laughter. “Come here, you idiot.”  

He groans again but finally relents, pushing himself off the mattress and turning back to you, his face still flushed. He flops into your arms like he’s seeking refuge, burying his head in your neck and mumbling something unintelligible against your skin.  

“What was that?” you ask, still grinning as you wrap your arms around him, pulling him close.  

“I said, I’m never waking up again.” 

“Oh, sure.” you tease, running your fingers through his hair. “That’ll fix everything.”  

He groans again, his hand resting on your waist as he tries to melt into you. Maybe if he stays there long enough he’ll just disappear.  

You lean back slightly, tilting your head to look at him, and you can’t help but smile at the way his eyes are squeezed shut, his nose scrunched in embarrassment. “Good morning.” 

He finally cracks one eye open. “Good morning.” he mutters back, his lips twitching like he’s fighting a smile of his own. “Sorry,” he whispers, “didn’t- didn’t mean to-”  

“It’s fine.” you cut him off. And it is. Fine. More than fine, actually. But you don’t say that part.  

He hangs awkwardly next to you, hovering just far enough away that it doesn’t touch you, his arm still draped over your waist but with a noticeable gap now. You can feel the tension, the way he’s holding himself stiffly to keep his hips from brushing against yours like that’ll make the situation less obvious.  

“Were you dreaming?” you ask.  

He shakes his head, face still tucked into your neck. “Nah.”  

“Then?”  

There’s a pause, and then he giggles, this soft, boyish sound and it makes your heart flip. “Think the knowledge of you half-naked in my bed was enough.”  

You laugh softly, your chest warming at his honesty. “Dirty boy.”  

He grins, his confidence peeking through despite the blush still dusting his cheeks. “Yeah, well, you’re the one wearing my shirt and no pants, so…”  

You can feel his gaze on you, lingering where the hem of his shirt just barely skims the tops of your thighs as you press them together, suddenly hyper-aware of the dampness pooling between them. “It’s comfortable.” you mumble.  

He hums, his hand brushing over your hip. “Yeah.” he says, almost distractedly. “Looks good on you, though.”  

Your leg brushes against his. He tenses. He’s still trying so hard to keep his distance, and it’s endearing in a way that makes you want to push him just a little. “You’re really embarrassed, huh?” 

You glance up at him, catching the way his eyes flicker to yours before darting back down again. He’s trying so hard not to stare, not to make it obvious how much he wants you right now, but the flush creeping up his neck and the way he’s nervously biting the inside of his cheek gives him away.  

“Maybe.” he mutters, his voice muffled. “It’s a little hard to be suave when you wake up like this.”  

“Who said anything about suave?” You drag your fingers lightly down the back of his neck, feeling the slight shiver that runs through him. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”  

“Don’t.” he groans.  

“Don’t what?” you ask, feigning innocence as your fingers trail lower, grazing his back.  

“Don’t- ugh- don’t mess with me.”  

“I’m not messing with you.” you say softly, your hand sliding lower until it rests on his hip, dangerously close to the duvet-covered evidence of exactly how not fine he is. “You’re the one who woke up like this.”  

“Yeah, well…” He trails off, biting his lip as he glances down. “Thought you said it was fine.” 

“It is.” Your hand moves just a little higher, brushing against his stomach, and he exhales sharply.  

“You’re playing with fire.” he warns, though it’s half-hearted at best, his hips twitching involuntarily toward your touch.  

You shift closer, your lips brushing his jaw as your hand moves lower, skimming over the waistband of his boxers. “Maybe I want to get burned.”  

His breath stutters and he doesn’t move, just staring at you like he’s trying to figure out if you’re serious. Then his hand moves, sliding down your side and over your hip, his fingers brushing the edge of your panties.  

“Al…” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, and he looks up at you, his lips parting like he’s about to respond. But he doesn’t get the chance.  

Your hand trails down.  

“Wait-” he stammers, his own flying to catch yours, though he doesn’t actually stop you.  

“Wait for what?” 

His breath catches again, and his hips shift, pressing against your hand. You can feel him, hard and insistent beneath the thin fabric, and it sends a thrill through you.  

His hand moves too, hesitant, his fingers brushing over your thigh before creeping higher. They hover between your legs, just barely grazing. You can feel his breath against your neck, shaky and shallow, before his fingers dip lower.

When he touches you — just barely, a featherlight graze over the damp fabric — you shudder, your thighs twitching.

“Shit.” he breathes, his voice low and strained.

And then he freezes.

“Oh, my God.” he mutters, his eyes snapping open as his hand flies back to your hip.  

“What?” 

“You’re…” He trails off, his eyes flickering down, and you realise what he means. He felt it — the wet patch on your panties where they’ve been soaked through. “You’re so wet.” he whispers, almost like he doesn’t mean to say it out loud. 

You shrug, your cheeks burning even as you try to play it off. “Well, you’re hard.” 

“Don’t say that.” he mumbles, his voice muffled against your skin.  

“Why not?” you tease, your hand trailing back up to rest on his chest. “It’s true.”  

He doesn’t respond, just lets out a low, frustrated laugh before finally meeting your eyes again. Pupils dark and blown wide, and there’s a quiet, unspoken question in them.  

“Alex.” you say softly, your hand sliding up to cup his cheek.  

“Yeah?” 

“Stop overthinking.”  

And with that, you lean in, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that’s slow and sweet and just a little bit desperate. Your hands splay against his chest as you settle over him, his erection pressing against you in a way that makes your whole body flush.  

“Still embarrassed?” It comes out breathier than you intended.  

His hands find your thighs, sliding up and under the hem of his shirt that you’re still wearing. “Shut up.” he mutters. 

“Make me.” 

“I can do that.” he says, and then he dips forward, capturing your lips with his.  

A tender slide of mouths that sends butterflies spiraling through your chest, all teeth and tongues and the kind of frantic energy that makes your heart pound so hard it’s all you can hear. But when you press down — accidentally, just slightly — and brush against him just so, you both gasp into it.  

It’s instinctive, the way you press into him, your body seeking friction and finding it. The pressure so delicious. A steady drag of him against you. His hands tighten on your waist, guiding you as you move, and when your lips break apart, it’s only because you need air.  

When you’re not kissing him, you’re biting his lip, tugging at it just enough to make him gasp. And when you’re not biting his lip, you’re biting your own, trying to keep quiet because you’re all too aware of the thin walls.  

But it’s hard to stay quiet when every roll of your hips sends a new wave of heat pooling low in your belly, and the sound of his breathing makes you want to give in completely.  

“Fuck.” he mutters, and the way he looks at you — lips swollen, hair messy, cheeks flushed — makes you want to ruin him.  

You lean down, capturing his lips again. And then you press down just a little harder, the angle shifting just enough to hit just right.  

It’s game over.  

“Can I?” he asks, barely above a whisper. His hand hovers at your hip, thumb grazing the edge of your panties. The intention is clear: more, baby, give me more, I need more.

You nod. That’s all he needs.  

His hand trembles slightly as he moves it lower, brushing over the curve of your thigh before tugging at the fabric, fumbling as he tries to pull it down. You lift your hips to help him, the movement brushing you against him again, and he groans low in his throat, his breath shaky as he finally gets the panties down far enough to push them aside.  

Then he pauses. “You’re sure?” he asks, his voice cracking just a little.  

You nod again, more emphatically this time. “Yes,” you murmur, your hands sliding up his chest, under his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your palms. “Yes, Alex.”  

It’s enough.  

He fumbles again as he reaches for himself, pushing his boxers down with a little too much force, and his dick springs free, flushed and hard and — oh god — so close. It would almost be funny, the way he struggles to get the fabric out of the way, but it’s not. It’s really, really not, because all you can think about is how much you want him.  

So bad.  

His breath catches as he looks down at you, his hand wrapping around himself almost instinctively, and you feel your whole body tighten at the sight.  

“You’re so-” He cuts himself off, shaking his head like he can’t even find the words, his free hand sliding up to cup your face. “I want you.” he says, his voice raw, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “So much.”  

You press your forehead to his, your hands gripping his shoulders as you whisper, “Then take me.”  

“Okay.” His breath stutters, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment before he shifts, guiding himself to you. He hesitates, just for a second, lips brushing yours as he whispers, “Tell me if-”  

“I will.” 

And then he pushes forward, just barely, and you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders as he fills you slowly, carefully, like he’s afraid of hurting you.  

“Oh, fuck.” he breathes, his voice trembling, holding himself back, trying to stay in control. He groans as he sinks deeper.  

And then he’s finally there, fully there, and you both pause, your breaths mingling as you adjust to the feeling, the weight, the sheer intimacy of it all.  

It’s everything. It’s too much. It’s not enough.  

And then he moves.

“Fuck, that feels so good.” he whispers, the words spilling out of him unguarded, and you can’t help the quiet sound that escapes your throat, a soft, needy confirmation that yes — yes, it feels so good.  

You shift your hips against him, slow and deliberate, so slow that anyone watching wouldn’t even know you’re moving. But inside, he’s shifting with every tiny motion, and the stretch, the fullness — it’s overwhelming. He’s so big, and every inch of him feels like it was made to fit you, and you’re not sure how you’ve gone this long without knowing this feeling.  

“Wait.” he says suddenly, his hands gripping your hips to still you.  

You stop immediately, your lips parted, your teeth catching on your bottom lip as you remember how undone you must look. Your hair is a mess, sticking out in every direction from the night before, and you’re sure there are still traces of sleep in the corners of your eyes. It hits like a bucket of cold water, and you want to disappear, to bury your face in his pillow and hide from the thought that he might see you like this and regret everything. But he doesn’t pull away. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, an apology written in the tenderness of it.  

“Don’t.” he murmurs, and it’s like he can see the insecurity blooming in your mind. And then it hits you — he’s inside you. His body is wrapped around yours, his hands holding you like you’re the most precious thing in the world. It’s far too late for him to find you repulsive.  

You exhale shakily, relaxing into his touch just as he says, “We didn’t- I didn’t put on a- a…” He stumbles over the words, his face flushing as he looks up at you.  

“A rubber?” you offer. 

“Yeah. Fuck.” he mutters, his hand running through his already-messy hair.  

You know you should care. You should be concerned, should pull away and figure it out. But the thought barely registers, drowned out by the heat pooling low and the way he’s looking at you, all flushed cheeks and wide eyes and breathless uncertainty.  

“Alex.” you whisper, and he looks up at you like you’ve just spoken the most important word in the world. You lean down, your lips brushing his, and kiss him softly, slowly, until you feel the tension melt from his body, his lips moving against yours like he’s already forgotten the interruption.  

“Fuck it.” he breathes against your mouth, low and desperate, and you can feel the smile tugging at his lips as you press your forehead to his.  

“Fuck it.” you agree, and the moment you start moving again, the rest of the world disappears.

It’s soft. It’s lazy. Not so lazy that it doesn’t feel good — because it does. It feels too good. Like, you-know-will-ruin-you kinda good. The kind of good that turns your world upside down and leaves you wondering how you’ll ever survive without it again. And it’s not just the way he’s touching you or the way he fits inside you. It’s the way he looks at you. It’s dangerous, this feeling. You can already sense it sinking into your bones, settling deep in your veins, and you fear you’ll never get it out. How are you supposed to pull away from him when it feels like this? 

“God,” he breathes, his voice wrecked, “you’re perfect.” He laughs softly before he says “Can’t believe we waited this long.” 

“Worth it.” 

“Yeah.” he agrees, his hands sliding up to cradle your face. “Yeah, you’re worth it.”  

So honest, so sure that it has you pressing closer, your body trembling as the pleasure builds slowly, steadily, until it feels like it’s wrapping around you, pulling you under.  

“Alex.” you whisper, and his eyes lock onto yours, dark and full of something that feels so much bigger than the two of you.  

“I’ve got you.” he says, his voice steady despite the tremor in his hands. “I’ve got you, babe.”  

It’s so much. There’s so much of him — his length, his heat, the way his hip bones graze yours with every thrust. Each motion feels impossibly intimate, like he’s carving himself into you, piece by piece, and you can’t help the way your fingers dig into his chest, searching for something to hold onto.  

“Takin’ me so well.” he whispers, a secret meant only for you.  

The words make you whimper, a soft, broken sound that you wish could say everything you’re feeling. But it’s not enough, and you almost feel bad that you can’t muster anything more coherent in return. You hope he understands. You hope the way you’re falling apart over him — every little gasp, every shudder, every desperate press of your hips — tells him he’s doing good. Tells him he’s doing everything right.  

“God, love.” he breathes. His movements are still slow, but there’s more purpose now, more urgency, like he’s teetering on the edge and holding back just for you. “Feel so good. So fuckin’ good.”  

He’s hitting that perfect spot inside you that has you seeing stars and your body’s giving in. He’s pulling you down so your chest is flush with his, and his lips find your neck, brushing kisses along your skin that make you shiver. You can feel him twitching inside you, every little pulse. He’s losing control, you can tell, and it’s making you lose it right along with him.  

“Fuck-” he groans, his voice breaking, “I’m- I’m close. So close. Really close.” His head tilts back against the pillow, his mouth open as he gasps for air, and it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. He’s a mess beneath you, and it’s everything you’ve ever wanted. “I- how do I- tell me what to-”  

You know what he’s asking. He wants to make you fall apart, just like he is, but his brain is too scrambled to figure out how. Your hand moves instinctively, grabbing his wrist and guiding it between your legs.  

“Here.” you whisper, pressing his fingers where you need them. “Just- like this.”  

He gets it. He gets it so right. The circles he’s drawing are perfect, the pressure just enough to have you keening softly as your thighs begin to tremble.  

“That’s it.” he says. 

You’re shaking now, your body so tense you feel like you might break apart. His hand keeps working between you, his cock throbbing inside you with every desperate thrust, and you’re so gone. There’s no other way to describe it. You’re gone for him, gone because of him, gone with him. White-hot and all-consuming. Your walls clamp down around him, and he chokes out a curse, his hips faltering as he tries to keep moving through the vice grip.  

“Fuck- fuck.” he groans, his eyes squeezing shut, his face scrunching up like he’s in pain. “You’re- oh, my god, love, I’m- I’m gonna-” 

He’s fighting it. But you’re still pulsing around him, your body shaking with the aftershocks, and it’s too much for him. “I need to-” he stammers, his breath catching as he pulls out. 

The sudden emptiness makes you whimper, and you glance down just in time to see him. He’s slick and flushed, his cock impossibly hard and glistening from you, and the moment the cool air touches him, he gasps. He strokes tightly, quickly, his fist sliding over the slickness you’ve left behind. 

“Oh-” His free hand clutches at the sheets, his hips bucking up into his own grip. You’re transfixed.  

It only takes a few strokes before he’s gone, a choked moan spilling from his lips as his body tenses. His cock jerks in his hand, and he comes hard, painting his covered chest with thick, messy ropes that glisten in the soft morning light. He keeps stroking himself through it, his thighs trembling beneath you. You can’t help but reach out, your fingers brushing over the sticky mess he’s made. He groans at the touch, his hand falling away as he finally collapses against the bed, utterly spent.  

“Holy fuck.” he whispers. There’s a flush high on his cheeks, and his chest is still heaving as he tries to catch his breath. You collapse against him, your face buried in his neck, and he’s still gasping.  

“Yeah.” you giggle, and he laughs too.  

It’s messy, it’s clumsy, it’s perfect.

You stay draped over him, your cheek pressed against his collarbone as his arms lazily wrap around you. You just want to stay like this — floating in the quiet of the morning, the hum of his breath against your temple.  

After a few moments, he huffs a soft laugh, his chest rising beneath you.  

“What?” you ask, your voice muffled against his skin.  

“Just…y’know. That.” he says. “Wasn’t exactly how I imagined it’d go, but-”  

“Oh, shut up.” you say, swatting at his chest, and he winces dramatically.  

“Careful.” he teases. “Still recovering here. You wore me out.”  

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. Neither of you mentions the obvious — what just happened, the closeness of it, how real it all feels. It’s not awkward, though. Just…warm.  

“God, you’re heavy.” he murmurs, teasing, his voice still soft with the afterglow.  

“Shut up.” you mutter, lips brushing against the curve of his neck. “You’re sticky.”  

There’s a comfortable silence for a beat, the two of you just basking in each other. It’s peaceful, or it would be if Alex weren’t incapable of keeping still for longer than thirty seconds. He shifts, testing the waters, and then — suddenly — he’s twisting you both around, flipping you onto your back as he props himself up on his elbows above you.  

“Alex!” you squeak. “What the hell-”  

His laugh is bright, filling the room as he nuzzles his face into your shoulder. “Oh my God.” he says, dragging the words out as if he’s just had the greatest epiphany of his life. “You’re mine. I’ve got you. Right here. In. My. Bed.”  

“Alex.” you hiss, trying to keep your voice down as you squirm under him. “Shut up! What if-”  

He cuts you off with a kiss to your forehead, his grin so wide it’s getting infectious. “What if my parents hear?” he finishes for you.

“Yes, exactly!”  

“They won’t.” He pulls back, still grinning like a madman. “They’re not even here. They leave for work early, remember?”  

You blink at him, momentarily stunned. “Oh.”  

“Oh.” he mimics, laughing again. “We’re free, baby. Just you, me, and this very comfortable bed.”  

You groan, slapping his arm. “You couldn’t have told me that before?”  

“Before what?” 

“You know what.” you huff, trying to look annoyed but failing miserably because he’s looking at you like that.  

He props his chin on your chest, right between that valley of breasts. “Not talking about it, are we?” 

“Talking about what?” You blink, all mock innocence, and you roll your eyes.  

“You know what.” His grin widens, and for a second, you think he’s going to say something ridiculous but he stays quiet. 

“Maybe later.” you murmur, and he hums in agreement.  

“Relax, love.” he says, his voice dropping to something softer, gentler. “We’re good. Promise.”  

You narrow your eyes at him, but his smile is too infectious, and eventually, you find yourself smiling back.  

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” you grumble, and he laughs, leaning down to press a kiss to the tip of your nose.  

“I know.” 

a/n: This somehow went on so long but it feels very fast paced to me? I like it though. I think it turned out cute. I think I really want him. Based on this request.

[youresodarkbabe]

MAEVE CAN WE TALK ABOUT GIVING FETUS!ALEX HIS FIRST BLOWJOB!?!?!?! PLEASEPLEASE

okay, i'm heavily sleep deprived so here's just some ideas i have about this (maybe they'll turn into a fic, idk)

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓���∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

he'd go from awkward to a fucking mess so so fast. like blink of an eye fast.

"are you sure? you don't need to do this f'me," to being the loudest person in the vicinity.

whispered groans -> loud, whimper-y moans

god forbid your hair looked nice before, because it definitely wouldn't after! his hands would find your hair and STAY THERE.

him being too scared to tug on your hair and mess it up, but eventually pulling when his tip grazes the back of your throat.

he'd instantly apologize, being shocked when you tell him it's okay.

he'd be even more shocked if you told him to keep doing it.

thrusting into your mouth as he gets closer, mumbling apologies in between moans because he didn't mean to 'hurt you'. (all you did was gag, this man is just insane)

the eye contact.

especially before it actually starts, as you kiss your way down his clothed torso, his anxious eyes meeting your reassuring ones; as you press kisses to his cock, he'd look so interested, so genuinely baffled that someone like you would do this for someone like him.

the whining, the whimpers, the moans (i need him rn.)

whining if you tease him, "c'mon, be nice," and giving you a lil pout.

whimpering as he gets closer and closer, "please, feels s' good, fuck," his cute lil face all scrunched up because he's feeling too good and it's overwhelming him in the best ways possible.

moaning as you guide him through his high, too fucked out to form a single thought, his words mirroring his thoughts— just you.

praising and thanking you so much after.

"that was so good, god,"/"i wanna make it up to you"/"that was the best thing ever"

just being the biggest loser about it (i say this with love).

having to tell him you don't want him to return the favour, all you need is to be with him and you're happy.

him agreeing but already planning on when he'd give you what he owes you.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

i'm not really the best when it comes to fetus alex fics 😭 i'd highly recommend @goblinontour, though! her fetus al fics are <<33

[littlemissthunderstorms]

quiet love- drabble

2007!alex turner x reader

taking care of sick alex (a bit) mostly fluff

———

clicking the overhead light off, you made your way into the bedroom, which was dim and cozy, your lover already tucked into bed. alex’s bedside lamp was on, the bridge of his glasses drooping down his nose as he read through one of your favorite books.

your heart swelled at the sight. he glanced over at you when he noticed you’d entered the room, folding a page to mark his place in the book and setting it on the nightstand. “hey,” you spoke softly, handing him a cup of tea and shuffling under the covers.

he softly thanked you, voice broken and congested. you held the back of your hand to his cheek. “you look all flushed, you want another ibuprofen?” he shook his head. “i took one a bit ago, hasn’t kicked in yet.”

you frowned, feeling sorry that he was so sick. “alright, anything i can do for you?”

alex took his reading glasses off, setting them in the case. “just stay with me,” he croaked. you nodded, scratching his scalp softly, fingertips carding through the short brown hair. “one last thing,” you smiled, quickly hopping up and making your way to the record player, popping in a sinatra vinyl and fiddling with the volume knob so it wasn’t too loud.

he smiled softly, eyes glassy with fever. you scrambled back into bed, propping your neck up on the pillows and positioning so that you were holding him, his head resting on your chest. your hands were a bit cold, but they felt nice on his feverish forehead. you leaned down, kissing the top of his head. “tired?” you asked.

alex made a soft little “mhm” sound and turned so that he was lying on his front, pressed against you with his arms wrapped around your middle. smiling softly at him, you ran your fingers through his hair. he nudged his nose into your collarbone, sighing sweetly.

your kitten jumped up onto the bed, startling you a bit. she pranced atop the pillows, nuzzling herself around your neck and winding her face through the strands of your hair. alex watched, chuckling softly. “she’s like me if i was a cat,” he mumbled. you giggled. “yeah, how so?”

“cause i would do exactly that.” he nodded at how she was purring into your neck, her tail brushing your hair. you smiled at him, cradling his face in your hands, caressing his cheekbone softly with your thumb.

“i love you.”

———

taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed)- @ultragirrl @inmyownfantasywrld @almluv @raven-ql @ohladymoon @yourstartreatment @missbabyjay @andulina567 @blair-s-world @rentsturner @indierockgirrl @kittyrob0t @averyzversi0n @michelleisheres-blog @kennedy-brooke @madeinuk @mathdebate00

[carefulignorantghost]

Fetus Arctic Monkeys rares

[alexturnersgooch]

TAGLIST

comment on this post to be on the taglist!!

@cayleeuhithinknott @claireaunaturel @sophand4n4

all dividers from @bernardsbendystraws!!!

[multipleheartbreakhotels]

I Sing You Joke

The Joking Starts When I Listen To The Music

February 25th 2006

Laughter. It's such a powerful thing especially when you make people laugh more particularly when you make your favourite band laugh. The first time I listened to them, was in 2004 on the radio covering some songs, I fell in love with them in an instant, the bass, the electric guitars, the drums, and the voice, especially the voice. Later in 2005, I heard them again, but this time with their songs. When I searched my local record shop, I had to dig very deeply since they were local artists. Once I found their single titled “I Bet You Look Good on the Dance Floor” I bought them immediately with a CD player. The moment I reached home, I listened to it non-stop, but there were unfortunately only 3 songs, until 2006. The beginning of the year with a new album by my favourite band is an excellent start the year, and to my delight, it was much longer than the other album of course, they also shared the same song which was one of my favourites at that moment, I brought the record home and listened to it religiously to the point where my roommate got sick quite literally when she got a fever I had to take care of her, so instead of listening to "Dancing Shoes" or "A Certain Romance" we listened to something my mother used to put when I and my brothers were sick, Mozart. I could only go to college while she was sick, I could not go to work or the pub, the millisecond she got well, I, well, we went to the pub. This was a very special night because not only was it for being back but also it was my 3-year anniversary for working in that pub, the time of my show starts at 11:05 it was 10:45 so shite luckily my roommate was also coming to my show, but she is equally late because we are both getting ready late

"MARYA WHERE IS MY BLUE DRESS?" Emilia yelled from her room

"IT'S IN MY ROOM ON THE BED" I yelled

back preparing my bag and ready to go, she came to my room

"Ok, but why is it here?" Emilia asked me

"Em?" I asked glaring at her, 

"Sorry," She replied,

she got dressed and we both ran to the pub, Lucky for us it was near and it was easy to run there for me since I was wearing Converse but Emilia was wearing high heels to feel fancy, how could you feel fancy in a local pub? I thought. I opened the door to the bar

"What the hell Marya it's already 11:10" the bartender Victor yelled

but before he could say another word I got to the stage removed my jacket and threw it not caring where

"Hello ladies and gentlemen apologies for my lateness, my best friend's lazy arse was weighing me down," I said into the microphone.

Laughs were coming from people who sounded like music to me, and after their laughs, they started to clap as a greeting for me

"Thank you Thank you" I said to the audience 

"So what shall I tell you today? Mhm Oh, tonight is a very special night, today is my anniversary and no it's not my romantic anniversary unless you think me being yelled at every time I come here late is romantic or sexual " I said

"Ooo Marya your so late it's already time to finish" I mimicked Victor and people started to laugh harder,

"Oi your such dirty-minded people ai......but anyways tonight is when I started to work in this bar the day I started to remove your innocents" I joked.

"It marks 3 years, imagine I was working here for one year, and I was still shocked that Victor has not killed me yet I am pretty sure the reason he is always behind that bar is that he is preparing to murder me, planning the day, and sharpening his knife, so if today is the last you will see of me let my last words be 'Thank you for letting all my friends plan a murder on me and not succeeding, and letting some random french bartender kill me instead' I see women are laughing more, I guess after seeing this you will know what tea to final spill to your ex-college-best friend-roommate" I said

taking the microphone from its holster and continuing speaking for 20 more minutes until I noticed a group of people standing next to the bar, there was a boy my age his back towards me with a leather jacket I wanted to get a better look at him when he finally turned to me, I stopped talking only for a second but it felt like hours, 10 minutes after I was done speaking

“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, and all the undecided I hope you pissed your pants and you will see me tomorrow night, I basically live her bye bye” I announced

and left the stage, took my thrown coat and bag, and placed them on a stool next to the bar. As Emilia was flirting with any living male soul, I sat at the bar talking to Victor, more precisely, the wall and drinking a bloody Mary,; it was my favourite drink.

"Excuse me, Sir?" One of the boys that I saw earlier from the stage,

"Could I get a-?" He said

not sure what drink to order, his friend that was sitting on the bar stool, the same boy with the leather jacket whispered something to his friend's ear

"A bloody mary, please? For the lady" He finally finished his sentence.

"I should be getting you drinks instead," I said with a smile,

"I get free drinks here so what would you like?" I added,

"How about their most expensive pint?" He asked with a heavy Northerner accent.

"Victor, the most expensive beer you have for this gentleman, please," I asked,

"You have 18 pounds, Marya?" He said,

"No, but I work here, so I give you customers, and you give me free alcohol" I marked.

"I give you money, not alcohol,"

"I give you customers, which means that come with free alcohol and money" I added.

"Fine, you work tomorrow also no holiday" He debated,

"Deal" I smiled,

and he placed the beer to the guy.

"Matt," He said

as he held out his hand,

"Marya, you don't need to know that though I already said my name on stage and it's on the board" I joked,

"And these your fellow shadows?" I asked,

the reason I called them shadows was because they were behind him and I could hardly see them from the light and choice of clothing.

"That's Jamie" He pointed to the blond guy dancing,

"I'm Nick," The brunette with green eyes said.

"Matt, I found a couple of lads come on" He said excitedly

"Will you excuse me?" He said as he finished his entire pint,

"You are excused," I said

and did a fancy bow, they laughed slightly and left, and then the guy next to me, who I assume was also Matt's friend showed me his hand in a gesture to shake it,

"Im Alex," He said in a hoarse or puberty voice with an equally heavy Northerner accent as the rest of his friends.

I shook his hand "Marya" I smiled,

his voice reminded me of something or more precisely someone, I could not put my finger on it though. We talked for hours about our favourite musicians bands, and books it was my favourite subject, and even baking. The night ended with them taking me back to my apartment, while Emilia went out with some lad from the pub.

"You don't have to it's unnecessary" I assured them after they asked if they could take me home,

they didn't exactly ask though they just said they would take me home,

"We are already walking out, and besides you live near us, it's okay" Alex reassured me with a smile,

it was a drunk smile, Matt was also happy to take me home slightly more drunk than Alex, while Jamie and Nick were flat-out drunk, we were all basically knackered.

"Wait, didn't you come to the bar with someone?" Matt asked slurring his words,

"She went with some random bloke, and they are gonna shag," I said,

"How are you sure they are gonna shag, detective?" Nick asked with a funny questioning look on his face,

"Well, her telling me Im gonna shag him tonight in a drunk whisper gave it away" I giggled.

When we reached my building

“I think that’s meh building,” I said slurring my words,

"Yup, it is" I added,

"Wait, wait, wait" Alex said quickly,

"Could you gimmie your number?" He asked while he was searching his phone in his pockets,

"Why not, if I can remember" I giggled,

while the rest laughed, he handed me his phone, and I gave his phone back after I typed my number.

"What does Bella, mean in Italian?" He asked,

"I am too drunk to know, but Bonita I am a pretty drunk bitch, well Bonita is only the pretty part" I giggled,

and he typed something in his phone.

"Well, we shall see each other in the next drunk street," I said in a fancy voice

"We shall" Alex answered in a tone equal to mine,

and he and his mates left. I got up to my apartment as best as possible trying to not let my neighbours think I was an alcoholic it was already bad that they called me a stripper just because I worked in a pub and I was a dance teacher, the moment I opened my apartment door and went to my room I fell asleep, knowing and not knowing how bad and good tomorrow will be.

Tags 💌: @ohladymoon @martinipoliz @i-m-a-leaf-on-the-wind @alexturntable @alexturne @drinkingbitterboy @arcticshadowturtles @cluedoenthusiast @dropofdrool @alovesreading @mywritingonlyfans @jetskisonyourmoat @bellaturner @almluv

[lescxctus]

𝜗𝜚 NEW BOT

alex turner, fetus era

holidays - you go on vacation to sheffield and meet the cute boy from the house next door.

[despairinthedeqarture]

can someone please write fetus alex turner x reader i beg

also does anyone have a good fetus fic i can read (if u find one i havent already read) (nvm that’s impossible)

[captainwans]

 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.”

[stardustloserdoll]

the urge to write for alex turner is consuming me.

[goblinontour]

Oh Baby, I Must Be Mad

you’re a bitch, he’s a bitch, he makes you his bitch

warnings: fetus!alex, smut, blowjob, fingering, grinding, fucking, talking, shouting

word count: 6.6k

You sat cross-legged on your bed, elbows propped on your knees, talking and talking as the words rushed out, barely giving you time to breathe. Your voice filled the small dorm room, your frustration practically vibrating off the walls. You barely noticed the cold that clung to everything. The kind that sank into your bones, made your breath feel like frost. But Alex, sprawled out next to you on the bed, felt it. 

He was bundled up like it was midwinter. Tight black jeans stretched over his long legs, a simple t-shirt under his jacket, and even that wasn’t enough. He’d pulled your blanket over himself at some point, though it barely covered him. You could see him, tucked up against the pillows, legs crossed at the ankles, his head tipped back slightly as he stared at the ceiling, eyes half-closed like he was contemplating his escape.

“And I swear, if Evan makes one more comment about his dad’s connections- like, okay, cool, we get it, your dad knows people, but you don’t have to keep saying it like it gives you the right to interrupt literally every conversation-” You huffed, pulling your hair into a messy knot on top of your head, the movement just as irritated as your words. “He thinks he’s God’s gift to the program, and I’m about to lose it if-”

“Mhm.” Alex’s response was so quiet you barely heard it, more of a grunt than anything, and it immediately set your nerves alight. He wasn’t even looking at you, just lying there, his hand resting over his stomach, fingers idly tracing the edges of his jacket.

Your mouth snapped shut, eyes narrowing. You stared at him for a second, feeling the bubbling frustration turn to anger. “Are you even listening to me?”

He blinked, slowly, before turning his head just enough to glance at you, his eyes heavy with boredom. “Yeah.” he said, the word drawn out lazily, like it took effort. “Evan. Dad’s connections. He’s annoyin’ you.”

You scoffed, sitting up straighter, your arms crossing over your chest. “You’re so not listening. You’ve been laying there like I’m just background noise.”

Alex didn’t respond immediately, his gaze drifting back to the ceiling. His fingers drummed a slow rhythm against his jacket, and it was clear that whatever you were saying wasn’t the priority here. It made your blood boil.

“Alex.” you snapped, uncrossing your legs so your knees bumped into his side. “Seriously. I’m talking to you.”

“I am listening.” he repeated, his voice a bit firmer now, but still with that edge of disinterest that made your irritation flare up.

“No, you’re not. You don’t care.” The words came out sharp, and you could feel the tension in the room rise as you glared at him, your fingers tightening into fists in your lap. “I’m here venting about my day, and you’re just lying there like you couldn’t give less of a shit.”

He exhaled through his nose, slowly, before pushing himself up slightly on his elbow, his brow furrowing. His eyes, which had been so indifferent moments ago, were suddenly darker, more focused on you now. 

“I’m listenin’.” he said, his voice low and clipped. “But maybe that’s because I don’t care about fuckin’ Evan or whatever prick’s been pissin’ you off in class this time.”

His words hit you like a slap, cutting through the air with the sharpness of his accent, and for a second, all you could do was stare at him. The dismissiveness of it, the casual way he said it, like your frustrations were nothing, made something snap inside you.

“Are you kidding me?” you shot back, your voice rising. “I don’t care about your stupid band half the time either, but I still listen when you go on about chords and lyrics and all that other shit you talk about.”

“Oh, so that’s how it is?” His jaw tightened, and he sat up fully now, legs bent as he turned to face you, his eyes flashing with something sharper. “I talk about the band for five minutes and you act like it’s some massive inconvenience, but you’ve been goin’ on about this bloke for the last, like, hour.”

“Yeah, well, at least when you talk, I actually listen.” you shot back, uncrossing your legs and swinging them off the bed. You stood up, the cold floor biting at your feet, but you didn’t care. Your anger was burning hotter than anything now. “You’re just lying there like you’re too cool to care about anything I’m saying.”

“You never let me get a word in, anyway.” he muttered, pushing himself off the bed, standing now, his hands running through his hair in frustration. His voice was rising, his usual calm demeanour completely unravelling. “I came all this way, and all I’ve done is sit here listenin’ to you complain about some arsehole I couldn’t give a shit about.”

“Well, maybe if you actually bothered to contribute to the conversation, I wouldn’t have to talk so much!” You stepped toward him, arms crossed tightly over your chest, eyes glaring into his. “And I didn’t ask you to come all this way just to mope around like you’re doing me some huge favour by being here.”

“I’m not moping. I’m just wonderin’ why the hell I even bother sometimes when I can’t even say one thing without you cuttin’ me off.”

“That’s not true.” you snapped. “You could’ve said something anytime.”

“I tried!” His voice was sharp now, the frustration fully breaking through. “But every time I open my mouth, you jump in with somethin’ else. You don’t want a conversation, you just want me to sit here and nod along like some fuckin’ idiot.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words caught in your throat, because a part of you knew he wasn’t entirely wrong. But admitting that now, in the heat of the moment, felt impossible. Instead, your anger flared up again, the defensiveness taking over.

“You’re exaggerating.” you shot back, your voice tight. “I let you talk.”

“Do you?” His voice dropped to a lower, dangerous tone, his eyes burning into yours. “When? ‘Cause all I remember is you ramblin’ on and on about somethin’ you’re mad about, and the second I try to talk, you either cut me off or go on another tangent. You never actually listen.”

You stared at him, your chest rising and falling quickly as your heart pounded in your ears. His words stung, but they also made you want to scream. 

“You’re such a fucking hypocrite.” you shot back, stepping even closer to him, your eyes blazing. “You never listen to me either! Every time I tell you something, you act like it’s beneath you or like you have better things to think about.”

“Maybe it’s because you’re always complaining about the same shit over and over again.” he snapped, his face inches from yours now. His voice was hard, cold, the frustration rolling off him in waves. “It’s the same story every time. Some bloke pisses you off, or some girl’s annoyin’, and I’m expected to sit here and listen like it’s the first time I’ve heard it.”

You felt your face heat up, and not just from anger. The way he said it, like your problems were trivial, made your blood boil. “Oh, I’m sorry that I have things in my life that aren’t perfect. Not all of us can be the lead singer of some band and have everything just work out.”

“That’s rich comin’ from you.” he sneered, his face tightening in anger. “You think everything’s so fuckin’ hard for you.”

The room seemed to freeze in place, the air between you thick and electric. Neither of you moved, both staring the other down, waiting for someone to make the next move.

“I’ve been workin’ my arse off for this band, and all I ever get from you is complaints about how I’m never around, or how I don’t care enough, but you don’t even try to understand it. You don’t get it.” His voice was raw now, cracking with the weight of it all. His hands clenched into fists, knuckles white.

“Well maybe if you actually talked to me instead of making everything about the band, I’d understand!” you shouted, your chest heaving with the effort to get the words out. “But you don’t! You shut me out and act like I’m supposed to just sit here waiting for you to decide you want to share something.”

He took a step back, sitting back on the bed, running both hands through his hair, gripping at it in frustration. “Because there’s no point talkin’ to you when you never listen. You prove that every fuckin’ time.”

“Oh, fuck off!” you shouted, eyes burning. “You think I don’t listen? You think I don’t try? You’re the one who shuts down anytime I try to have a real conversation with you.”

You both stared each other down like you were two seconds away from combusting. Alex’s chest was heaving, his face flushed with anger, his eyes sharp and dark with frustration. He wasn’t backing down, and neither were you. 

“Just- just shut the fuck up!” Alex finally snapped, his voice louder than you’d ever heard it, raw and biting. He swung his legs off the bed, standing up abruptly. He yanked off his jacket with an angry pull, the zipper catching slightly before he tore it off entirely. The jacket hit the floor in a heap, and he started pacing, his hands running through his hair again, tugging at the strands like he was trying to pull himself together.

“You can’t just tell me to shut up!” you fired back, stepping toward him. “I have every right to say what I’m feeling, especially since you’ve clearly been tuning me out this whole time!”

He stopped pacing for a second, glaring at you. ”Oh, yeah? Maybe if you didn’t go on about the same bloody thing every fucking time, I wouldn’t have to ‘tune you out’!”

“Don’t act like you’re some victim here!” you snapped. “You’re the one who’s been cold and distant, just lying there.”

“Cold and distant?” he spat back, his eyes narrowing, his pacing more agitated now. “For fuck’s sake, I came all the way over here to see you, and all I get is you ranting on about Evan.”

“You came here, but what’s the point if you’re not even here mentally?” you shot back. “You’re just here.”

“God, shut up!” He stopped dead in his tracks, whipping around to face you. His voice was low and dangerous now, like he was on the verge of losing it. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Just shut up for one minute!”

“No.” you spat. “I’m not going to shut up just because you can’t handle a real conversation.”

“God, you’re impossible!” He stormed over to you, closing the distance in two angry strides, his breath hot and ragged as he grabbed your face in his hands. His grip was firm, his fingers pressing against your cheeks, and before you could react, his lips crashed into yours, hard, heated, and urgent.

You gasped against his mouth, the fight draining from you in an instant as your brain short-circuited. The kiss felt almost punishing, his lips moving against yours with a fervour that left you no room to argue. For a second, you didn’t even know how to respond, your hands hanging uselessly by your sides, your heart racing like you’d been thrown into something you hadn’t expected at all. But then, instinct kicked in, and you kissed him back, hard, your fingers tangling into his hair, pulling him closer despite yourself.

Just as suddenly as it began, he pulled away, breathing heavily, his hands dropping from your face as he took a step back. You were left standing there, eyes wide and lips parted, your mind struggling to catch up to what had just happened.

Alex stared at you, his hands on his hips, his chest still heaving, a wild look in his eyes like he was barely holding on. “Finally…” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

Your brow furrowed as you tried to make sense of everything. “Finally what?”

“Finally, some fucking quiet.” he said, exasperation dripping from every word. His voice was quieter now, but the edge of anger hadn’t entirely left. He ran a hand through his hair, eyes flicking up to meet yours as if daring you to argue with him.

The shock was starting to wear off, and the heat of the argument began to creep back into your chest. “Quiet? Quiet? That’s what you wanted?” you demanded, incredulous. “You think kissing me is going to shut me up?”

“Seemed to work, didn’t it?” He raised a brow, a smug smirk pulling at the corner of his lips, even though his eyes were still stormy.

Your face burned with indignation, and you took a step forward, poking a finger into his chest. “You think you can just kiss me to stop me from talking? You’re unbelievable, Alex!”

“And you never know when to stop talking,” he shot back, the smirk fading, his expression turning heated again. “you go on and on and never give anyone a chance to get a fuckin’ word in.”

“That’s because you never say anything worth listening to!” you spat, your voice rising again as the bickering started all over.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” he groaned, exasperated. He yanked his t-shirt over his head in one swift motion, throwing it somewhere behind him. The sight of his bare chest, the muscles in his arms flexing as he tossed the shirt, caught you off guard, but you had no time to react before he was on you again. His hands grabbed your waist, and in one swift move, he pushed you down onto the bed.

“Alex-” you started, but before you could get another word out, his lips were on yours again, silencing you with another kiss. He hovered over you, one knee pressing into the mattress beside your hip, his hands framing your face as he kissed you deeper, harder. 

You tried to push him back, to protest, but your body betrayed you as your hands gripped his arms, pulling him closer even as your mind screamed at you to keep fighting. His body was warm and solid above yours, and the heat between you both was overwhelming. The cold air in the room was completely forgotten as his lips moved against yours, the weight of him pinning you to the mattress.

He pulled back just enough to look down at you, his breath ragged, his hair falling messily into his eyes. “I can shut you up.” he whispered against your lips as he stared into your eyes.

You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but he kissed you again before you could speak, his body pressing down against yours, keeping you firmly beneath him. Every inch of you was buzzing with frustration, and the way his kiss was relentless, like he was determined to prove his point. His hands moved from your face down to your waist, fingers digging into you as he ground his body against yours. 

“You’re unbelievable.” you gasped between kisses. 

His lips curled into a smirk against your mouth. “Maybe I just know how to get what I want.” he murmured. 

Just then, he shifted his weight, and his hands slid under your tank top, pushing it up slightly as his fingers grazed your skin. He pulled back just enough to look down at you. “You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this.” He yanked your top down, exposing your skin to the cool air, the sudden chill contrasting sharply with the heat of his body hovering over you. “While you were busy talking about…fucking Evan.” He cupped your boob, fingers roughly squeezing as he kept your mouth occupied with his tongue. 

You responded in kind, your hands moving to his back, fingers curling into the waistband of his jeans. In a moment of reckless abandon, you pushed your hand down into his pants, fingers curling into the firm curve of his ass over his boxers. The movement drew a low moan from him, which vibrated against your lips, and you couldn’t help but smile against his as you felt him respond. 

“God, you’re driving me insane.” he breathed, pulling away slightly. “Do you have any condoms left?”

“No.” you managed to say. 

“Okay.” he said, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a smirk. “Then we either risk it, or you blow me.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, half in disbelief and half in amusement. “Is that really how you want to play this?”

“Just offering options here.” he shrugged, a grin creeping back onto his face, his bravado almost infuriating. “But if you’re not into either, I guess we just keep arguing.”

“Alex!” you protested, but even as you said it, your pulse quickened. 

He leaned closer, brushing his lips against yours. “What’s it gonna be? I’d rather not wait around if you want to keep arguing.” 

You bit your lip, torn between irritation and an undeniable pull toward him. “You really think you can just get me to do whatever you want?”

He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “I think I can convince you.” 

Every protest you had slowly melted away as you surrendered to the heat building between you, knowing you were both playing a dangerous game, but it was a game you were willing to continue, at least for now.

You pulled back slightly, catching his gaze. “You really want to risk it, huh?” 

Alex paused, his brow raised in challenge. “What can I say? I like living dangerously.” He shifted back, propping himself up on his elbows, clearly enjoying the power dynamics at play.

You leaned closer, a smile creeping onto your lips as you began to unbutton his jeans. The sound of the zipper made your heart race. There was an intensity in his gaze as you slid your hands into his jeans, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. 

His breath hitched slightly as you pushed the denim down, exposing more of his legs. He looked up at you, his expression a mixture of anticipation and amusement, revelling in the thrill of the moment. “You’re feeling bold.” he remarked, a smirk playing on his lips.

“I’ve always been bold.” you shot back, your confidence surging as you pushed his jeans down further, letting them pool around his ankles for him to kick off.

He laid back against the pillows, the fabric soft against his skin, and you could see the flicker of excitement in his eyes as he watched you. “What are you going to do now?” he challenged. 

You smirked, your fingers tracing slow, deliberate lines along his thighs, barely brushing against the hem of his boxers. “Just enjoying the view.” 

His muscles tensed under your touch and he shifted slightly, his breath hitching when your fingers grazed the sensitive skin just above his waistband. “That all you're going to do?” he asked, his tone almost taunting, but you could hear the underlying impatience.

You leaned forward, your lips hovering just above his stomach. “Maybe.” You could feel the way his body reacted to the proximity, every slight twitch, every subtle intake of breath. “Unless you're in a hurry for something.”

His hands fisted the sheets as you dragged your fingers along his waist, tracing maddeningly slow circles on his hipbones. His jaw clenched as he exhaled sharply, trying to maintain control. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

You glanced up at him through your lashes, your lips brushing the edge of his boxers, dangerously close but not quite enough. His eyes were locked on you. “You love it.” you whispered, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the spot just below his navel. 

He let out a low, frustrated groan, his hips shifting slightly. “You’re really going to make me wait?” he asked. 

Your fingers trailed lower, teasingly slipping beneath the waistband for just a second before retreating, leaving him wanting more. His breath hitched again, and you could see the way his chest rose and fell, quicker now. 

“You’re torturing me.” he muttered, but there was a glint in his eyes that told you he was enjoying every second of it.

“Just a little.” you replied with a grin, your lips brushing over his skin again, leaving a trail of feather-light kisses down his torso. 

“Don’t tease too much.” he murmured. 

You paused, looking up at him. “Teasing is half the fun, don’t you think?”

Alex let out a frustrated laugh, but the spark in his gaze was undeniable. “Nah, not now.”

“Just wait.” you said as you leaned in closer again. You hooked your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down, exposing him fully. His body tensed as the cool air hit his skin, but his eyes stayed locked on yours, expectant.

You could feel his impatience as you let your tongue flicker out, just the tip brushing against him in the lightest of touches. His hips twitched slightly, a frustrated sound escaping his throat. You smirked, continuing to tease, your mouth barely making contact, just enough to drive him crazy.

He growled low in his throat, his hand coming to the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair with a firm grip. “Come on…” he muttered. “Don't play around. Suck it properly.”

The arrogance in his voice made you pause, lifting your head just slightly to meet his eyes. “So demanding.” you murmured, lips hovering above him. His jaw clenched, and you could see the way he fought for control, his fingers tightening in your hair.

He pushed his hips forward, trying to guide himself deeper into your mouth, but you held firm, teasing him with slow, lazy licks along his length. “I said,” he repeated, his voice dropping an octave as he pressed his hips toward you again, “suck it. You know how to. Come on, baby.”

“Patience.” you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his tip before pulling away again, the smug look on his face wavering for just a second as you denied him the satisfaction of going further. 

His hand tightened in your hair, pulling slightly, his breath coming out in short, frustrated bursts. “Come on…” he grunted, but beneath it, there was an edge of frustration. His need for control was palpable, and the way you were pushing him to the edge without giving him what he wanted was clearly getting under his skin.

You gave him a look, your lips barely brushing against him again, not giving in yet. “What if I wanna take my time?” you asked, knowing how much it would push his buttons.

He let out a low, exasperated groan, his head falling back against the pillows as he tried to thrust into your mouth, but you pulled back just in time, leaving your mouth empty and him wanting. “For fuck’s sake.” he muttered, “Stop messing around and put that pretty mouth to work.”

His hand moved more firmly in your hair, trying to guide you back down, his cockiness only thinly veiling the desperation you could see in his eyes. But you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction just yet. You let your tongue trace slow, lazy circles around him, every now and then taking him just barely into your mouth before pulling away again. 

“You’re such a fucking tease.” he growled, his hips jerking upward again full of exasperation. “You’re pissing me off again.” 

Before you could retort, he flipped you over with surprising strength, pinning you beneath him. You gasped, caught off guard, and he wasted no time yanking your pants down, exposing your skin to the cool air. He pushed your top up, revealing your chest to him fully. 

“Alex-” you started, but he silenced you with a kiss, moving his lips down your body. He kissed his way down until he reached the waistband of your panties. 

He pressed a soft kiss against your covered cunt before pulling them to the side. You felt exposed and vulnerable, but there was an excitement coursing through you as he hovered over you, his presence overwhelming. 

Then, without warning, he plunged two fingers inside, the sudden fullness making you gasp. Your back arched instinctively, the sensation electric as he moved his fingers with confidence, finding that spot that made you shiver.

“Oh, no words now, eh?” he teased, a smirk on his lips as he watched your reaction. His fingers worked expertly, and the room filled with the sounds of your breaths and the rustle of the sheets beneath you.

You tried to gather your thoughts, to form some kind of response to his taunting words, but every time you opened your mouth, a moan escaped instead. Each time you tried to speak, another sound slipped free, your body betraying you.

“Come on.” he murmured, his lips ghosting against your ear. “Just enjoy it.”

As his fingers continued to thrust inside you, the slick sound filling the room, you felt him shift above you. His hips pressed down, and you realised with a start that he was rubbing his cock against your upper thigh, the hard length of him sliding against your skin. The friction was maddening, and you could feel the slickness building there, his arousal mingling with the sweat on your body. 

“Feel that?” he whispered as he rocked his hips, pressing himself harder against your thigh with each thrust of his fingers. You could feel just how desperate he was becoming. Yet still, he kept control, refusing to let go. 

You whimpered, your hips bucking. You could feel the heat pooling low in your stomach, spreading through your limbs. “Look at you…” he taunted, his breath hot against your neck as he ground himself harder against you. “You can’t even handle it, can you?”

You moaned in response, your body tightening around his fingers as he continued his assault. Every time his hips thrust forward, his cock slid against your slick skin. The sounds he made, low, throaty grunts of satisfaction, only heightened everything. 

The smugness in his eyes was unmistakable as he watched you squirm beneath him, his fingers never faltering in their rhythm. “See?” he said, his voice dripping with arrogance as he rocked his hips again, the head of his cock brushing dangerously close to where his fingers were buried inside you. “This isn’t so hard, is it?”

You managed to catch your breath enough to respond, “You think this is easy for me? You’re driving me insane…”

He chuckled and picked up the pace, pushing you closer to the edge. “Good. I want you to feel it. You’ve been talking nonstop, so let’s see if I can make you speechless.”

You rolled your eyes, even as your body betrayed you, responding eagerly to every movement. “Like you could actually silence me.” 

“Oh, I think I can manage that.” he replied. 

“Is that a challenge?” you asked, half-laughing, half-breathless.

“Perhaps.” he said, his fingers curling just right. “But right now, I’m focused on you. You know you love it.”

“You’re really insufferable.” you managed to say between gasps.

“Only when I’m around you.” he shot back. “Seriously though, how’s it feel? You like this?”

“It’s-” You struggled to find the words as the intensity grew. “It’s good, Al. Just- don’t stop.”

“Good.” he said, his voice low and sultry. “I want you to remember this the next time you think about annoying me.”

You gasped, your back arching off the bed as he pushed deeper, his fingers curling just right, hitting that spot inside you that made your vision blur. You were teetering on the edge, every thrust of his hips against your thigh, every curl of his fingers, sending you spiralling closer and closer to release.

He watched you with that same amused glint in his eyes, completely in control of your body, of the situation. He knew exactly what he was doing, how to keep you on the edge without letting you fall over it. “You want it, don’t you?” he whispered, his voice smug and teasing as his cock slid against you again, his slick arousal mixing with yours. “You can’t hold out much longer.”

You could feel it, the way your body trembled beneath him, the way your breaths came in shallow, ragged gasps. “God, Alex, if you don’t stop talking, I swear-” you started, but your words trailed off as he increased the pressure, his fingers hitting that sweet spot again.

“Swear what?” he challenged, looking down at you. “You gonna tell me to shut up?”

“Maybe.” you gasped, the tension building to a breaking point.

“Not likely.” he grinned. “Let’s see how long you can last before you really can’t say anything.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his persistence. It was a dance of wills, a push and pull that left you craving more. His smirk was softer now, fading into something more focused, more intimate.

“Come on.” Alex murmured, voice rough but coaxing. His breath was hot against your neck, and his fingers curled in just the right way. “I can feel it. Just let go.”

You didn’t need much convincing. Your body was already giving in. You gasped as the pressure inside you built, your voice dropping into breathy moans you couldn’t suppress. You tried to hold back, remembering just how thin the dorm walls were, but it was impossible. 

“Alex, I’m-” You couldn’t even finish your sentence,, your body jerking in his grip as finished around his fingers, leaving you breathless, boneless, and trembling beneath him. 

He slowed his movements just enough to draw it out, making sure every last bit of pleasure wracked through you before he finally stopped. “Good girl.” he whispered, lips grazing your jawline, pride in his voice as if your release was as much his victory as yours. “Knew you’d let me make you come.”

Your chest rose and fell in heavy pants, your mind still spinning from the sensations coursing through your body. You gazed up at him, a smirk tugging at your lips despite the heat still thrumming under your skin. “You’re too smug for your own good.”

“Sure.” he replied, pulling back just enough to look down at you, his grin unmistakably cocky once again. There was a playful glint in his eyes, the arrogance almost dripping from him as he leaned in close. “Pretend you’re not a fan.” His lips brushed yours softly at first, the kiss tender and brief, before he pulled away just enough to murmur, “Now, it’s my turn.”

Before you could fully recover, he shifted, settling between your legs. You felt the tip of his cock brush against your still-sensitive skin, making you squirm beneath him. His movements were almost shaky now, the restraint in his body barely held together. His breathing was uneven, and there was a subtle tremor in his muscles that told you how close he already was. “You ready for me?” 

“I think I can manage.” you replied, trying to maintain your composure despite the way your body still trembled from the aftershocks of your own orgasm. 

He pushed into you at that. The sudden fullness made you gasp, your fingers immediately digging into his shoulders as your body arched beneath him. He felt impossibly good, the sensation of him stretching you, filling you completely overwhelming your already sensitive body. 

“Fuck.” he groaned, his forehead dropping against yours as his body shuddered with the effort to keep moving. “You feel so good. I’m not gonna last long like this.”

You could hear the strain in his voice, and as his forehead pressed against yours, you brushed a hand up, your fingers running lightly through the damp strands of his hair. His skin was flushed, and when you pulled back just enough to see his face, it was written all over him. He was barely holding on. You laughed softly at his admission, your thumb brushing along his temple as you took in the sight of him. “Already?” you teased, though your own breath came in quick, shallow gasps. “You were just talking all that big game…”

He groaned again, this time with a note of frustration, his hips picking up a faster rhythm as he thrust deeper into you. His movements were erratic now, and the way his brow furrowed told you he was fighting to hold on. “Shut up, please.” he muttered, voice strained, the bravado slipping further. 

“Please?” you echoed, your grin widening as you ran your fingers lightly over his forehead. His eyes squeezed shut for a moment, and you could see the way his face contorted with pleasure, his muscles twitching as the sensations overwhelmed him. “You must really be-”

“Shut up.” he interrupted, his voice breaking as his control slipped entirely. His thrusts became more desperate, his body moving without thought now, his hips snapping forward with increasing urgency. His brow was furrowed deeply, and his jaw clenched as he gasped for breath. “I’m serious, I’m- fuck-”

His eyes flickered open for a moment, meeting yours, and then, just as he hit that point of no return, he pulled out, his hands fumbling as he gripped his cock. He stroked himself quickly. You watched, breathless. He hovered over you, his face twisted in pleasure, his mouth falling open as he let out a rough, broken groan.

He came hard, his body tensing above you as hot streaks of his release spilled across your stomach. His eyes fluttered shut, and for a brief moment, his expression was pure, unfiltered ecstasy. His lips parted, and your name slipped past them in a hoarse whisper torn from his throat. His body trembled as the last of it spilled from his cock, every part of him laid bare.

For a few long moments, he stayed there, body shivering with the aftershocks of his orgasm, his head bowed as he gasped for air. 

“Fucking hell.” he muttered as he collapsed next to you, his hand resting lightly on your hip. He turned his head, chest still heaving, and looked at you with a grin that was both satisfied and exhausted.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, wiping a bit of sweat from your forehead. “That was quick.”

“I warned you.” he shot back, still catching his breath. 

His usual attitude was back, but his voice was softer now, like that vulnerability hadn’t fully faded, lingering in the small, cramped room. The space seemed even smaller now, with both of you sprawled across the tiny twin bed.

“Can you scoot over?” Alex groaned after a minute. “I’m about to fall off your tiny bed.”

You laughed, nudging him with your elbow. “Maybe if you didn’t take up so much space…”

“It’s not my fault your bed’s designed for hobbits.” he quipped, but he still shifted, giving you a bit more room instead. 

The room was warm, the sheets sticky beneath you, and everything felt overheated and suffocating. But in the best possible way.

“God, we’re so sweaty.” you muttered, shifting uncomfortably. “And everything’s…sticky.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” he replied, running a hand through his damp hair, which was sticking up in every direction. “But it was worth it.”

You smiled, biting back a laugh. “You say that now, but just wait until you have to do the walk of shame down the hall covered in sweat and…other things.”

He shot you a look. “I’m not walking anywhere until I get some sleep. I’m spent.” 

“You can’t just crash here.” you pointed out, though you weren’t exactly opposed to the idea. “What if my roommate comes back?”

He glanced at the door, then back at you. “Then we’ll just have to be quiet.” He waggled his eyebrows playfully, though his body was already sinking deeper into the mattress, clearly exhausted. 

You shook your head, amused. “You’re insufferable.”

“I know,” he mumbled, “and you still love me.”

As the quiet settled over the room, the warmth of your post-coital haze was interrupted by a familiar, teasing touch. You felt Alex shift beside you, his fingers brushing lightly against your stomach where his cum still lingered, sticky and now cool.

He glanced at you with a lazy grin as he wiped the mess away with his fingers, then, without a second thought, wiped it down on the corner of the already tangled sheets.

“Gross, Alex.” you groaned, wrinkling your nose in mock disgust.

He raised an eyebrow, the grin never leaving his face. “What? You wanted me to leave it there?” His tone was so casual, so matter-of-fact, it made you laugh despite yourself.

“You could’ve, I don’t know, used a towel or something.” though you knew full well there wasn’t one within reach. Not in this tiny dorm, not with the haphazard way things were usually thrown around in the space you had to share.

He shrugged, unfazed. “Eh, too far.” Then, his expression softened, his teasing dropping away for a moment as he shifted closer, wrapping an arm around your waist. “I just wanna hug you and not get it all over me.”

You rolled your eyes at his excuse, but a smile tugged at your lips anyway. “Fine.” you sighed, your voice betraying your amusement.

“Fine.” he echoed, his tone matching yours, though his grip tightened slightly as he pulled you in closer. His chest pressed against your back, his warmth seeping into you as you nestled into the curve of his body, your legs tangling together under the sheets. 

“You’re such a mess.” you mumbled, not entirely sure whether you were talking about the situation or him in general.

“Yeah…but you love me.” he replied, his breath warm against the back of your neck, echoing his earlier words with the same easy confidence that made it impossible to argue with him. 

You smiled into the pillow, too comfortable and too content to offer a snarky retort. Instead, you let yourself relax into his embrace, the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back a gentle reminder of the closeness between you. The room was quiet, except for the faint hum of the dorm heater kicking in despite not doing anything more than just filling the space with a soft hum that made you even more drowsy.

“You tired?” Alex asked after a while.

“A little.” you admitted, your body still humming with the aftershocks of everything that had just happened. 

“Grand.” he murmured, his fingers drumming a random pattern on your hip. “Means I did my job.”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head slightly. “Always so proud of yourself.”

“Just callin’ it like I see it.” he said, a smile evident in his voice. He pressed a light kiss to your shoulder, his lips lingering there for a moment before he spoke again, softer this time. “But seriously…you okay?”

“Yeah.” you said, turning your head just enough to glance back at him. “I’m fine, Al.”

He gave you a small, satisfied nod, as if your answer was all he needed to hear. “Good.” he said, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Just making sure.” 

“You’re still gross, though.” you murmured sleepily, half-asleep already. 

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest and into your back. “Yeah, well, I love ya.”

a/n: hope it’s decent, idk, based on this request

tags: @st7rnioioss @theonlyoneswhoknowsblog @rentsturner @yourstartreatment @avxoxo1 @jqsvi @turnersfav @youresodarkbabe @psychedelicrocker @aacheinthejaw @zayndrider @humbuginmybones @tedioepica

[youresodarkbabe]

i'm cooking (again)

plot's basically finding al's old sextapes from 2007-ish

(smut under the cut!!)

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

your fingers linger on the 'play' button, and you eventually decide to give in— to see what this ancient looking camera had in store for you. and what you got was definitely unexpected.

the video took your senses one by one.

first, a faint whimper filled your ears. after that, you hear your boyfriend's voice. his accent was much thicker, you could tell this video was old. based on the date on the bottom corner of the video, you could see it was filmed around the time the boys were recording their first album. you hear alex swear, taking off the camera lense— giving you a sight to behold. alex with his hard cock in his veiny hands, you had to stop yourself from moaning when you saw it. alex rests his back against the headboard of his old bed, and swipes his thumb over the tip of his cock before prying it away from himself. he spits into his palm, you notice his dick twitch, and he grasps onto it again, stroking himself as his jaw falls slack. his free hand paws at the bedsheets before he brings it up to his body, running it over his lower stomach, then running it up his torso, fingers stuck to his nipples as if by glue— twisting, pulling, everything he could do to make himself feel good. his whines grow louder, and he triggers a third sense within you.

touch.

you find yourself slipping your hands into your sweats and past your underwear, and before you can stop yourself, your index finger runs along your folds, then circling along your clit. you moan almost in sync with alex, every circle rubbed aligned with the pump of his fist along his cock.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

full fic sometime soon 🤞

[carefulignorantghost]

Alex Turner shirtless. You’re welcome lol

[mywritingonlyfans]

Church Crush. // Fetus!Alex Turner X Reader. (SMUT)

prompt: Psalm 119:131: I open my mouth and pant, longing for your commands. / Where you notice how he looks at you and behaves in your presence, during church sessions and you decide to bring his dreams to life (in the church parking lot too). He's a sub! Here.

words: 3,7K

session/setting: I'm following a prompt based on parts of the Bible (blasphemy), and I'm using this post: link, if you're interested you can choose one and suggest an idea! (Maybe we have about him as a priest)

Your eyes landed on his figure, sitting a few chairs behind you. His hair fell softly over his forehead, and if you weren’t so observant, you might not have noticed the heart-shaped outline of his hairline. But you had, thanks to all those classes together. He was illuminated by the light from the main room, his eyes a lazy, lovely caramel. So solemn, and you liked to imagine that sometimes they were watching you too. You fiddled with your cuticles impatiently, noting his nails, perfectly trimmed down to the quick, as he rubbed his well-shaped, sculpted nose, picking at his slightly flushed skin. You couldn’t help but picture them in other scenarios; adding meaning to such generous fingers. Without realizing it, he was mesmerized by the slight smirk on your face, only to quickly turn away to avoid the intensity of your gaze. That feeling was new. He couldn’t tell if you liked how his body reacted to you or if it made you uncomfortable, exchanging glances like that in such a place. After all, shouldn’t he be paying attention to the church’s service?

“We’re done for today, ladies and gentlemen,” the voice of the finely dressed man filled the room, snapping you out of your thoughts. You hadn’t heard a word he’d said since you arrived, you were busy. And thanks to Turner, every one of your Sundays had become like this—a vain attempt to surrender your body and soul to something that was supposed to be sacred. Still, there was a purifying aura about the way Turner’s curious gaze rested on you. Not that you thought he saw you as someone pristine, but because, clearly, he saw you. He saw you as someone worthy of that affection. Turner had become the reason you kept coming back. You counted the days for moments like this. The distinctive, colorful marble of that sanctuary wouldn’t be the same without him. You wouldn’t even think of returning otherwise.

He tried to ignore you, avoiding glances or any chance of crossing paths. He gathered up his backpack, frantically organizing himself to leave as quickly as possible. Yes, he was awkward—in a genuine, innocent way. Maybe he was still new to this, inexperienced, and clearly flustered. But based on how he acted in class, those assumptions seemed accurate. He briefly adjusted his hair, clearly uncomfortable in his too-small blue polo shirt that clung to his sweet fragile frame. His eyes were on you, even though his body language denied it. You smiled at him, boldly, leaving him even more flushed and disoriented.

When he opened his car door, he threw himself onto the seat, letting the backpack strap catch awkwardly, making him look like a ‘ninja turtle’ as his body contorted. He sat down; he was a mess. He reopened the door, discreetly, making sure he looked ridiculous in your eyes. Given the circumstances, he wondered if he should think of you as someone he'd marry someday, but that wouldn’t be fair to himself, not with how he idealized you every single time he saw or thought of you. His mind was far from pure, though he wished you well and admired your independence. However, his ideals about you weren’t exactly built on divine foundations.

Trying to recompose himself, he grabbed the steering wheel, resting his forehead against it. His breath caught in his lungs, knowing just how wrong he was for feeling this way and that he would be punished for it. Still, he pressed his thighs together, body and soul present, though not for any greater good—except, perhaps, for the thought that you might be his ‘greater good’ if you wanted to be. He was getting tight in his pants, just from seeing you. His throat burned from the effort of trying to forget it all—forget his obsession with you, even though he made it all too easy to dwell on it.

Yet, he couldn’t let go. His mind was stubborn. He wanted to see you, to feel your eyes on him, to hear what your voice sounded like, no matter how wrong it felt. It was inevitable that he would spend all week waiting for Sunday, just so he could see you again—admiring the way you dismissed people who criticized your looks or how relaxed you seemed, unconcerned with the judgment of others. And, of course, how you smiled at him after catching him looking at you.

Alex did his best to avoid you in the halls during the week. You still had the same confident essence and leather jacket, but he didn’t want to disrupt your popularity or how adored you were with his primitive presence. It was such a small town.

“Hey, youuu!” A deep, feminine voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Startled, he first thought the sound had come from outside, but when the door slammed and his eyes confirmed a familiar figure inside, right next to him, his entire body froze.

“You can’t be ‘ere,” he stammered in a pathetic whisper, earning a mischievous smile from your lips. His accent was stronger than ever, hurting his throat. It felt wrong, yet like a dream.

Up close, you wore a crucifix around your neck, dangling like a hypnotic watch, and your hair cascaded perfectly over your shoulders. Your eyes gleamed and stayed locked on him, leaving him unsure of where to look. You were invading his space. His hands, damp with sweat, shot down to his jeans in a nervous attempt to seem more composed in your eyes.

As usual, you seemed indifferent to the situation, as if this was entirely normal and you’d known each other for years. Your long fingers smoothed his dark hair behind his ear, drifting down to adjust his collar so his collarbones could be more pronounced, more visible to your praises. Your eye makeup was strikingly out of place for the setting—perhaps that was one of the small details that had captivated him since the moment he first saw you. The sharp, dark line framing your perfectly defined gaze made you all the more mesmerizing. A few droplets of sweat from the heat of the day clung to your cheekbones, and he silently cursed himself for wanting to lick them away; being responsible for keeping you clean. In a way, he wanted to let a single tear escape in front of you, not knowing whether that was a good or bad thing.

“Are you listenin' to me, Bambi eyes?” Your hand now rested on your thigh, your skirt clinging tighter and riding up slightly as you leaned forward in front of him. The crucifix floating, as well as your collarbone and breast in the tank top beneath the leather. He was dreaming—his mind had been in this exact place before.

“Alex,” he managed to say, he couldn't tell if his heart was beating. A small, plausible chance to let you know his name. He couldn't miss that.

You laughed, an amused, sweet sound that felt like a spell cast over him. “I know you, Bambi,” your hand slid up towards his leg, climbing up his thigh as your smile widened at how excited he was so early, pausing over the stiffness of his belt. He thought you were cute, he was getting so sure of that. His cheeks were flushed, his stomach restless above your touch, he was a good boy; definitely not as pure as the seconds passed with you.

“You do?” His voice came out choked, the words stuck as he tried to catch his breath. You were inside his head, crushing him into pieces, and he was utterly lost in you.

You nodded, reaching up and squeezing a part of his lower belly that had never been touched by anyone else before. He was warm and silently prayed that you would have him. On a choked sigh, in an involuntary act, he spread his legs as you got your fingertips over the prominent part of his jeans, making you play gladly with the buckle of his belt. “I do, or do you think I don’t see you looking at me? Giving me those poor Bambi eyes as you study me from top to bottom, rubbing your soft legs together in an attempt to clear your impure thoughts.” Your gentle touch reached his skin, soft and reassuring. You unbuckled the belt with a satisfying click, slowly sliding it around his waist, each breath he exhaled filled with relief as you granted him the sense of freedom. “I know everything about you, Turner” you said, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “I’ve done my research.”

“Did you look me up?” he asked softly, even though he knew it wouldn’t be difficult to learn anything about him, given that the town was as small as a speck. His mouth went dry, feeling your nails grazing the damp fabric clinging to the swollen skin on his white underpants.

He knew he was blushing, embarrassed by it (by himself), but you were happy, your lip between your teeth with an inviting look, revealing him hard and accumulated at the tip. You clicked your tongue, looking into his dark eyes, and already knowing the answer, you didn't hesitate to run your hand over his length, feeling him generously as his head went back in a sigh.

The doors were open, he could leave, the most exciting thing about it was that he didn't care about being corrupted by your actions.

As a quiet hum was being taken from him, you pressed your fingers harder into the spot. “So do you like my touch, Turner?” You ran your fingertips gently, running them through all his hardness, so tenderly. “Your so wet, babe. Did you get like this when you were in there thinkin’ ‘bout me while failing to pay attention on the world ‘round you?” Your hands cupped his flesh, making him dodge while closing his eyes. “When should you be listening to the Lord's words? Huh?”

Even if it was slow, even if you lingered, Alex didn’t mind. He wanted it to last as long as possible, as long as you were there with him.

“I’m sorry,” he grumbled, not knowing where to put his hands or how to act in front of you. He hated the fact that he was so quiet, making you think he wasn't enjoying it; even though his body wasn't capable of lying. “I just — I just don’t know what to do,”

“I know you don’t, babe. I know you don’t. Never ever been touched for someone else, right? Sounds like a good boy for me, a fuckin’ perfect boy for you parents, a english class winner, a saint in the eyes of the neighborhood, and a devotee of our little sanctuary. What’d they say if they saw you now? About to get lost in whimpers for me in a church parking lot, huh? Bein’ mine instead,” your sinful words brought shivers down his spine. And as he could imagine, you had done your homework. You had already noticed him beyond the church. Your compliment with words, taking away all his speech, made him open his eyes briefly, sulking his hips in your hand. You did that for him, and without knowing how to explain it, Alex found you angelic; a pure angel in disguise. “Tell me, Turner?” You kept moving, not increasing the pace, assigning to the ache between his legs (in your cares); yet firm enough as he needed. “How can you be good? Fantasizin’ ‘bout me like that? Or when you walk past me bumping into my shoulders on purpose so I can notice you devouring me with your eyes when I come close to you every Sunday, babe? You’re not a good boy at all, see? You only came ‘ere for me.” You had an indescribable effect on Alex. You were right, he had never felt this way with anyone before, you were the first and for him you would be the only one to take him out of that bubble of chastity.

How could it be fair that you talked to him like that? How was it possible that his conscience understood that as wrong but still his body was begging to be taken by you?

He thrust his hip pathetically into your palm, “I need more,” he said in a whimpering mess, just like you described. “Please, I’ll be good, just tell me what to do,” He rested his palm on your wrist, not disturbing your work, just rubbing loving circles in longing.

“I don’t want you to do a thing, pumpkin,” For never having done it that way, it was clear how sensitive he was. Your hand ached, but you continued, intoxicated by the pained expression on his face as you were guided by every sound and drop sliding down his forehead. He was beautiful. His mouth fell open in a silent sob, making his attempt to speak your name come out in clipped syllables. You were being good for him, he wanted to learn how to do the same for you.

As he had never been to that place, he was surprised to feel no pain but pleading relief enveloping his body as your fingers slithered easily into his excessive juices. His stomach was feeling funny. But he was ethereal, he felt like he was in a good place, or getting there as he had heard the well-dressed man say minutes ago. “I just wanna make you feel good, hear your beautiful sinful sounds just for me.”

As he dipped his head on the seat, you bit on your lips, hard enough to feel the metallic taste mix with your saliva. You were the reason for his erotic dreams since he had first seen you, so that was such a daydream for him as well as for you. Your hands, controlled, came out of his swollen length to the tip, and then closed around him tightly, giving you the advantage of seeing his face twitch with pleasure knowing that only you had provided this to him. Keeping the same pace–so he could spend more time in supplication, giving you a privileged view that you would save in your brain to watch every night before bed–you began to massage his angry and read tip with your thumb, feeling his body heating up as his hip go to meet with your fist, fucking himself into you.

He had realized that he was hasty alone, and that it was difficult to hold himself back with you. He would wet the fabric of his underwear more easily, which gave your delicate hand better performance. He wouldn't know how to use your dexterity, he would need you to keep from getting hurt.

“Please,” you breathed.

“Please what, Turner?”

"I need it, I need you, I need to be good for you, just want to—" He was cut off as you pulled away from him, sitting up. With tense fingers, sore from burning holes in the seat, he tried to hold back, not wanting to sound too loud.

“You’re being good to me babe. You were fuckin’ my hand so well, fuckin’ dripping on me, I’m just gonna need to hear you, pumpkin. C’mon, don’t hold back, we‘re far from everyone you can show me how naughty you are, right? Be loud for me,” you said, your raspy voice made him dizzy as you took off his shirt in a quick, clumsy act. He didn't even try to process the lack, he was completely intoxicated by you.

You lost control of your words, your fingers tracing along his waist as you placed them on his chest. He smiled softly, his lips moist and curved to the side, as usual. You liked his body, smooth and delicately sculpted; you enjoyed how wrong it felt yet couldn’t help but be guided by it. You caressed his collarbone, memorizing every groove along the way. Leaning closer to his seat, feeling his eyes on you, you kissed him. It was subtle, in contrast to everything that had come before, warm yet tender. He tasted the metallic taste, needing more. He took a moment to respond, but as he became more aware, he yielded and entwined his tongue with yours. Sweet and messy, just as you had expected, you laughed, making him blush even more.

A thin line of saliva formed as you pulled away, and he wondered if it made you wet, since he felt painfully stiff with everything you did. All he could do was stare, as if you were going to run away and be nothing more than a dream.

Without another word, you made yourself comfortable in the seat. He could see your thighs better. He took a deep sigh, letting a groan escape as your breath grew heavy with your warmth lingering on him. As soon as you moved your hair away from your face, Alex understood and held it back to give you better access and provide himself with a clearer view.

Your pink painted lips wrapped around his swollen head, sucking just a little until you lifted your head to the tip only to fail to take him completely all at once. You laughed, excited by that, and sighed with a drool running down the edges of your lips, "You're such a good size." And you could gaze at his red skin.

Understandable, yet painfully throbbing, he ran his fingers over your ear, examining the metallic earrings and caressing your velvety cheek. You were beautiful. Alex loved watching you pay attention in class, but he never thought he would be able to witness this. Your swollen lips were connected to him, your wet tongue making him squirm, and you were skilled at it. Your hand was firm at the base of him, where you couldn't reach without having your eyes water and your throat hurt, even though you let yourself do it on purpose, to please him and feel a little pain for being so unruly. But mostly, you focused on sucking him in comfort, closing your eyes, loving the taste and texture, until you could move your face up until you no longer had him in your mouth just so you could do it all over again.

He stroked your hair so gently, you couldn't stop even if you wanted to. "You're so beautiful." He whispered between full-bodied moans. It was deafening, it made you give even more of yourself to have his taste in your mouth. And little by little, his legs began to tremble and his hands pulled your locks hard enough to have them loose between his fingers, but it felt so good. He groaned your name, as if in a will, relieving himself in your throat with more whimpers. It was so adorable. He was weak, such a mess.

His sweet caramel eyes watched you tiredly as you swallowed the hot liquid. It dripped down your chin a little and his stomach had stained with it too, but you didn't hesitate to wipe it away with your tongue and sweet kisses. His breathing was weak, he didn't know what to say, but thank goodness he could look at you. You gave more wet kisses to his sensitive skin, ignoring his fingers trying to push you away. And from the view Alex had through the blurry windows, he could still see some people leaving the church; you had certainly been there too long. You sucked on his spot again, licking where a bit more juice was coming out and he could see your angelic gaze at him, as if you transferred all your sins to him and he was no longer pure. He wiped the tears from your face, knowing he had them too, and drove your head up, feeling too sensitive to take it anymore.

His muscles were relaxed, though tension started to build in his head. He fumbled with his own belt and the shirt bunched up around his waist, awkwardly trying to hide his softened body. You laughed, and he understood that it wasn’t because of his clumsiness, but because you simply enjoyed seeing him like that—flushed, unsure of his next move. "Thank you," he said. Your eyebrows raised. This time, you both laughed together. You stripped him of all his social skills.

Your fingers whitened as they gripped the hem of your skirt, your eyes never leaving him, yet they roamed across his entire frame. Alex felt guilty, embarrassed. "Did that make you wet?" The question sounded like real doubt amid his weak intonation.

"Don’t you think you’re good, Al?" You let out a soft sigh, relaxing into the seat as you leaned toward him, your lips brushing his cheek. Hearing you call him that made him wonder if you’d speak to him like this when you saw him in class or around his friends. He wanted you to. As usual, he couldn’t speak. His mouth opened, but no sound came out, and he simply waited for your commands and approval.

Your forehead rested against his, your attention solely on him, your breaths mingling in quiet comfort. He signed the notice, captivated by your delicate fingers brushing against the skin of his arm, taking his hands in your and guiding them beneath your skirt. His calloused tips touched the thin fabric of your panties, surprised, heart racing at how damp you were. You pulled the elastic away, lightly touching your spot as you contemplated the act. Alex had never heard anything so beautiful. Looking for more of the sound, he repeated what he saw, your head falling back onto the seat, looking at him pleadingly and tiredly, and he imagined that you had been like that since the beginning too (even though it could be a lie and he just wanted to feed his own ego). He pressed harder, not sure how to continue, and proposed to kneel in front of you, no matter how drastic that might be. He needed all of it, every drop. But your warm voice interrupted him before, "Turner, you need to park somewhere else, I don't want to be interrupted.” You had certainly been there for a long time, no one but you needed to know how you were poisoning each other in such a place.

...

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