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mywritingonlyfans · 1 year

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Teacher's pet. // Prof!Alex Turner X Stud!Reader (Smut) Part 1 of 3.

prompt: (Age Gap/Smut) Alex, an undergraduate professor, wasn't known for his friendliness until he found himself gradually warming up to you. Your remarkable writing skills, particularly directed at his class, heightened his interest even further. He's determined to show you firsthand just how talented you are, even if the journey is challenging. Eventually, both of you realize that resisting this connection is futile, and you must let go of your inhibitions to explore what lies ahead.

words: 9.3K

a/n: Be aware that it's a smut but it has a whole context, so it's long. There are changes of the next parts being more smuts, this part was assembled around how they feel in front of each other and what they make the other feel. It is important to point out that I'm not native of the language, it is likely that there are some errors, but hopefully few because I try to be careful. In addition, I hope you enjoy!

You were nervous; it was difficult to digest what he was explaining when all you seemed to notice in class was the timbre of his voice. As hours passed, his accent seemed to grow stronger and huskier, not to mention how he had taken off his blazer within the first few minutes and rolled up his sleeves to his elbows. You couldn't quite tell whether you were enjoying the subject matter due to its inherent interest or whether it was him who had become your focus of interest.

You found the buttons on his white shirt alluring, the warmth adhering to his skin, and the occasionally tousled hair being lazily brushed away from his eyes exuded a charm. Watching him was intriguing; at some point, you had tried to avoid such distractions, but realizing your failure, you allowed yourself to be swept away completely.

"Did you hear me?" He asked a bit louder, trying to get your attention. He hadn't shouted; he never did. You were immersed in him, yet couldn't grasp the meaning of the disjointed words he had gestured. However, the movements of his restless hands and the prominent veins when he placed them on his waist had etched themselves into your memory. If someone requested, you could depict his fingers in oil on canvas.

"I'm sorry," you shook your head, waiting for him to repeat, as he often did with everyone else. He studied you more closely, even from a distance, his hands tucked in his pockets and your breath catching slightly. He didn't often make direct eye contact with students, maybe with no one. He was somewhat reserved, and it was evident that lecturing for hours wasn't quite his natural disposition. You found the stumbling over words and how he would look out the window or shift his gaze when someone met his eyes rather appealing. You feared that you had been thinking about him for so long that you had built up an image of him beyond what he could actually be.

However, he held his dark eyes on you, offering a gentle smile, a touch relaxed as if he had expected that from you, and playfully continued, "Well, I didn't expect that from you. I must have been mistaken in thinking you're a great one." He carried on with the lecture as your cheeks began to burn. Perhaps his not-liking for you was part of his nature too.

…

You couldn't bear for him not to like you. Not until the end of the semester; you considered his subject crucial for your repertoire. He just couldn't dislike you. Some nights were spent awake, but you were certain your paper was well-written, and your readings for his class were up to date; any question he might ask, you'd know the answer to. Your seat in the classroom was always the same, out of habit. Honestly, if you had known the distraction and nervousness that Mr. Turner would cause you, you would have opted for seats further back for your own good. But now it was too late, and besides, you needed a good grade in his class.

He was wearing a light blue blazer, a shirt with a few buttons open, and high-waisted slacks, the usual attire, but it never failed to soften your senses. He looked well-rested, his expression serene, no signs of dark circles, and his hair was even silkier than usual as his fingers brushed it back. You found yourself fidgeting, imagining what it would be like to run your fingers through his hair, touch his skin, and feel the texture of the beard that was just beginning to grow.

Realizing your mental drift, you closed your eyes tightly and buried your head in a notebook, trying to avoid looking at him. The rest of the class proceeded as usual, his voice pleasant and utterly hypnotic, and occasionally, he cracked a light joke to lighten the mood. Almost no one laughed, but you found it funny. There were only a few students, so he had no choice but to notice you.

You weren't foolish enough not to notice his eyes briefly passing over you, but you chalked it up to his duty to see if anyone needed help. So you avoided letting your brain jump to impossible conclusions.

And then there was the age difference; he was older, you couldn't say for sure how much, but the more pronounced lines on his face and his authoritative demeanor made that evident. Still, he was charming and, dare you say, a bit sexy. He had a well-sculpted physique, leaving enough room for you to describe him for hours.

"Could you continue for us?" he said, his voice distinct, making you look at him reluctantly. You didn't know it, but avoiding his gaze throughout the class had bothered him, but who was he to say anything about it unless you couldn't answer him?

You nodded, your hands sweaty; you knew what to say, just not where to find the courage. Your cheeks were already burning with anxiety. "I'm sorry," your voice was soft, and you stumbled over the first syllable. He seemed to understand. "It's okay," Mr. Turner leaned down to your level at your desk, his hands on his knees, and a somewhat encouraging smile. "I know you wrote an excellent paper on this; I know you know what to say," he said softly, turning toward you, his calm eyes and a nod of the head giving you confidence. His words made you look away for a moment, and your shy smile spread awkwardly.

Once you finished, he thanked you and added that you had done very well. He seemed genuinely pleased to see you speak, but perhaps it was just a product of your imagination. You even received a light applause from him, which didn't seem ironic. This made you feel more at ease and attentive during his classes; he was a great teacher.

At the end of class, he passed by the desks, handing out the respective papers we had discussed. Your face fell into a worried expression as you touched yours. Alex knew you deserved more, but he wouldn't make it easy for you. It wasn't his style as an educator to give out high grades easily.

Your smile disappeared in confusion; he felt a pang in his chest when he saw your reaction. He didn't say anything, just returned to his desk and said he was open to discussions. He hoped you would come to him and fight for the grade you deserved, but it was clear how upset you were about it.

Others left, content with their grades, and you still had the paper in your hands, looking between the notes. He avoided looking at you directly, yet couldn't help but glance at you from time to time.

"Mr. Turner," you sounded angelic as you approached him, your steps light as you handed him the paper. Your shirt was short, and when you handed him the paper, he couldn't help but notice the exposed skin of your stomach, which was briefly visible. "I thought I had done well; that's what you just said," your voice trembled, and as you got closer, he noticed your sweet scent. On the other hand, you couldn't focus on anything; minutes ago, you were sure you had done well, and things with him had been sorted out; he didn't hate you.

"It's not a bad grade," he said firmly, then immediately regretted it. It was brief, but for a moment, your eyes filled, and he could see how much it had frustrated you. He didn't blame you; in fact, he knew you were talented, and by the way you had written, he knew you had put in the effort. The problem wasn't you; any other teacher would have given you the highest grade. However, your grade wasn't bad; it just wasn't what you deserved and wanted.

"Do you think I can redo it? I can do better," he looked at your trembling hands and continued, "This grade is final; I can't allow you to do that." His words didn't match his tone, but you didn't notice; you wanted to rip up the paper in front of him and say you didn't need it.

You stood in front of him, disoriented, while he couldn't help but let his attention wander over you. He felt wrong, both because you were his student and because he was aware that you were over a decade younger. Still, without being able to explain it well, he found himself lost in thoughts of you from time to time, especially after having read what you wrote.

"Please," you pleaded softly as a last attempt, your eyebrow arched and your nose wrinkled in emphasis of your plea, and you looked so beautiful. "I can allow you to submit another," he confirmed, his face serious, the little furrow between his brows. Up close, you felt your breath catch as you noticed the exposed hairs on his chest. The scent of cigarettes and his cologne became more pronounced, and you liked it. Creating a new one would take so much time, but if it was your only option, there was nothing to be done.

Alex had only asked that in the hope of being able to explore more of your writing; by the end of the semester, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from letting you know that you were his number one fan if you allowed it. You had a beautiful way with writing; feelings seemed worth experiencing in your words. You nodded in agreement. "Okay, I need you to submit it by the end of the week." You didn't object; you seemed grateful, and Alex took mental note of how caring so much about that grade was something youthful; in the future, it wouldn't matter, but you didn't know that yet. Your smile, now smaller but still present, returned to your kind face, and he felt more comfortable, even dressed in his serious university professor attire. With that, he guided you to the door, his palm resting lightly on your back, not inappropriately, but gently, which caused him to blush a bit. You felt shivers run down your spine, but he didn't seem to notice, and both of you made your way to the exit. You thanked him once more, telling him that you wouldn't make him regret his decision, to which he assured you it wouldn't happen.

Your path to the next class was accompanied by a light and relaxed smile after his final words were simply, "I know you won't disappoint me; you didn't the first time," in his pleasant accent, followed by a pat on your shoulders. You felt like a fool, but you couldn't even think of trying to avoid it anymore.

…

"He's good, knows what he's doing. He follows my lead during, when I'm tired and breathless; he tilts his face and lets his nose graze my clit," your friend said casually, as if it were an everyday part of her life. Well, you couldn't relate. She was lounging on your bed, while you were on the floor with your laptop open to one of Professor Turner's published stories. As well as a valuable audiobook that was read by him between the navigation tabs, waiting for her to leave so you can have your moment of peace. You wanted to learn more about him, and your friend kept failing to get you to go out and meet new people. You were unfamiliar with the sensation of being touched, and she wanted to change that.

"I don't want to have to force someone to like me," you said, reconsidering what you had just breathed out, not wanting to sound offensive. You two were just different. She didn't mind; she just laughed. "I'll keep trying for you," and you appreciated that about her. You wanted someone in your life like that, but you didn't want it to be as insignificant as she described. She had already set you up with someone to talk to before, and the kiss was good, at least until you refused to have sex right away, which resulted in his friends laughing at you and whispering as you passed them in the hallway. You learned that sometimes it's better to wait and avoid certain situations.

"I'm okay like this, it's alright," you said, even though you weren't, but you wouldn't go through that again. She respected your decision. Your smile brightened as you saw a notification that you had received an email from Alex on the screen. You bit your lip, trying to contain your eagerness to click on it, making it something important that needed to be read slowly and appreciated. His notes on what he thought of your paper would be there, and he always made a point to highlight the positives and areas for improvement. It warmed your heart.

For a brief moment, his smile for you flashed in your mind, the wrinkles forming at the corners of his eyes, and his pointed nose following in harmony. You had to grip the fabric of your skirt between your fingers, soon having your friend's words echoing in your head. Professor Turner seemed like a good man in every sense of the word. You did believe he would treat his partners well in every way. Your friend pointed out that the boy she went out with listened to her, and you felt that he would too; both in listening and in other ways. You were sure, with what little you had learned about him, that he was observant. There would be no need to tell him what to do, Mr Turner would understand your body and then he would not disappoint. He could tell when a woman was tired or overwhelmed. An important one was that you also thought he was provocative, too impatient at times not to be. You wanted to be able to know what it was like with him, even if it was through other people's experiences with him, just to get a little of that taste. You didn't exactly feel good about the inconsistency of such thoughts. Still, you let yourself be carried away by them.

He made you wet with just his voice. If he were to touch you in that way, you were certain you would give yourself over completely. You sat up straighter, envisioning how good it would be to have his tongue on you, gentle and with relaxed moans because he wouldn't think going down on you was a bad thing or something to second-guess. You remembered how easily you could make your small vibrator slide when you were really excited, and you felt it would be the same with his fingers. They were longer and thicker than yours, but wet with his saliva and your body melting from his voice, they would be skillful.

The tip of his nose would surely brush deliciously against your clit as he savored your taste, following your cues. The beard that was beginning to grow would graze your sensitive skin, causing a slight burn that would remind you of his presence. Professor Turner would also shake his face into you, wanting to make sure he enjoyed pleasuring you as much as he did receiving. Oh, and you would love to be able to provide that to him. Unconsciously, you found yourself breathing heavily. Your friend laughed, "Are you this worked up over a notification?" She had gotten up to leave but returned when she noticed you were flustered. "Spill it, who's the lucky one?" You recoiled, shaking your head in denial, not wanting to admit that there was someone (or not exactly), but your smile was hard to hide.

"It's not really anyone," you still felt uncomfortable in your own skin, fearing you had done something wrong. She waited for you to continue. "Just an email about a paper I submitted, I got feedback on it now." She rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath, "What a nerd." Then you felt like exploring the situation further, considering that she also had a class with him but in a different subject. "Was it positive feedback at least? What subject is this for?" You mentally thanked her for asking, giving you an opening to continue.

"It's for Professor Turner's class. He let me redo one of the papers to try for a higher grade," you answered, and she raised an eyebrow. "He gave you a low grade?" The girl seemed surprised but not entirely. "This guy is impossible, what a..." She used a strong word. You didn't quite understand. While you still thought there was a chance he might dislike you, he didn't seem so harsh. He wasn't the friendliest at first, but as you thought back, you realized you had never seen him smile at any student in your class except you.

"Do people think he's bad?" You asked, furrowing your brow. Deep down, you wanted her to reassure you by saying positive things about him and making you feel normal about having this confusing crush on him. She then talked about his strict grading style, how he acted like a difficult person to talk to, and always had a stern expression. She wasn't wrong; you couldn't deny that. But he wasn't like that with you; it was different, and you couldn't explain it.

"I talked to him about my grade, and even though he was reluctant, he allowed me to redo it and submit it by email. He talks to me during class as well, asking me to explain something or asking for my opinion on what he's explaining. I think he's talented, but I can understand your point," you defended, without taking a breath, as if it were already a formulated and concrete idea in your head. You did spend a lot of time thinking about him since the first day of his class. She quickly caught on to where this was headed. "You like him, he's your type. Charming, grumpy, and writes well." Your cheeks burned. "He likes you; in my class, he doesn't chitchat with anyone, just does what's necessary. He enjoys teaching, I can see that in him, he's just not so sociable and too strict for a subject that should be straightforward. I've never even seen the guy smile." You pondered for a moment, deciding to pay closer attention to see if he treated you differently from the others or if it was just your head playing tricks on you.

You shrugged and concluded before she left, "I like him, and he frustrates me sometimes for being so strict, but I don't think he does it out of malice. He seems like a good man." She got up, laughing at how you talked about him. "Then go for it, suck his dick, choose him as your thesis advisor; I'm sure he'd love to have you under his wing." Her tone indicated it was a joke, but it sparked your imagination. He would be a good advisor, and you liked the idea of him praising your work with that pleased, bright look on his face. Alone, you opened the email. Your joy went from extreme to controlled; he could be quite harsh when pointing out the negatives, and sometimes you wondered if he did it just to be difficult. But this time, he found more positives in your writing. He had marked the parts he liked the most and written next to them why he liked them. Your heart warmed, and your stomach filled with happy butterflies. The last comment read, "You give me pleasure in reading something," and you heard it in his voice, deep and drawn-out. You felt yourself grow warm and realized how messed up you were for feeling like this. Your mouth was dry, and in the end, you saw that your grade was the highest, even with the not-so-great notes he had made.

Maybe he didn't dislike you after all. You lingered on the blurry, not much clear photo in his email signature for a while, with a stupid smile of accomplishment on your face. Then you decided to write him a thank-you, and you weren't as brief as you would have liked. The sensation of comfort taking over your body, along with your pleasant but not entirely appropriate thoughts about him causing things in your breathing, made you contemplate what could be done.

You rested your head comfortably, your laptop placed beside you. In a new tab, after opening the audiobook website, you found yourself browsing through the selection that appeared when you searched his name. If his voice was enticing in an inappropriate context, it would be even better alone, wouldn't it? Your chest tightened, knowing that it was wrong, but you weren't going to stop.

You put on your headphones, clicked on the longest one you could find, and relaxed your tense shoulders as the first whispered words filled your head. It was even better; here, you had him all to yourself, complete silence, and his voice echoing, well-recorded and clear as it guided you. He sounded precise, with deep and marked pauses, his typical breathing between phrases, and, with your eyes closed, you could imagine him gesturing and occasionally touching his nose or mouth as he spoke. Just like the gentle adjustment of the necklace and shirt that made his chest more visible and room for more of your thoughts to be explored. In fact, that necklace coming off his soft skin on top of you in sweat would be something so pleasant.

You felt weak but in a relaxed way; it was good, pushing the voice that haunted your thoughts about him into the background. Delicately, as if any abrupt movement might break the spell, you reached for your box under the bed. The small, pink object came to life in your hand, your throat already dry and his narration causing your head to tilt slightly to the side, as if he were caressing your face. You let yourself be completely carried away as you pressed it against yourself.

You swallowed hard, leaving it there for a while, immersed in how Mr. Turner seemed to be speaking to you. Everything was slow, every syllable that came from his rosy lips was cherished. You wanted so much for it to be him there, touching you and whispering while guiding you. You were sure he would say things like, "That's it, you're taking me so well, doll," or "Look at how good you are, you're such a good girl for me." And as cliché as it might sound, you had no doubt that he would make it sound like something the gods themselves would envy.

You pulled the thin fabric aside, pushing the vibrator inside you. Your legs trembled a bit, but as expected, the small object slid in just right. Your lips parted in a satisfied sigh, whispering his last name as you closed your legs slowly and felt the tingling sensation intensify. His name never felt so delicious and engaging as your tongue rolled out to the sound and went through your lips so vividly. Your head throbbed, and you could already see him sitting at his desk in front of yours, guiding you, telling you what to do and say, teaching you tricks to make it even better (you knew you weren't very skilled).

You got louder, whimpering because you wanted your thoughts to become real so badly, and then you saw nothing but white spots in your vision. Your chest heaved, your breathing completely out of sync, and the area beneath you grew wet as you felt too sensitive to continue with the vibrator.

This time, you didn't feel bad; you felt really good, actually. Your body relaxed, his voice still being absorbed by you in a therapeutic way. Then, you imagined lying on his chest, pulling your pillow to your arms, and how he would kiss you solemnly and have his hands in your hair, giving you comforting words until you fell asleep after he had made you feel so wonderful.

Although you were feeling good now, the following morning would be a bitter testament to how you were digging yourself into a hole with no bottom, and the light wouldn't be there to save you.

…

Alex received your email, and a pleasant blush crept onto his face along with a warm smile. He could picture you reading what he had written, your hands between your thighs, a happy expression on your face, and all giddy, unable to contain yourself in your chair. He appreciated how much you valued his feedback, but he knew how hardworking and intelligent you were. He wanted to help you realize that you were good on your own, not just because he believed it.

He ran his hand through his hair, feeling hot from the heat. Your notification had arrived on his phone, and being a seasoned university professor, he preferred to wait to access his laptop to read and respond to you properly if needed. He tried to get into the thing that he was used to teaching, but that wasn't entirely the case. While he found it tiresome to teach subjects he liked and found interesting when no one seemed interested, he enjoyed it when you were there for him, you were the exception (the teacher’s pet). The thought made him chuckle and bite his lip. It was tiring, but he liked it, except for all the social interaction that weighed on him.

He had just returned from the market after giving two lectures, and he had exceeded his limit for social interaction. Yet, seeing your email notification on the screen gave him the extra energy he needed for the rest of the day. Just the thought of your quick exchange earlier when he passed by you on the first floor during lunch, even if brief, brought a warmth to his chest. You smiled at him, waved, and whispered a "good day" or "have a good rest of your day, Professor." He always smiled back with a hand in the air, trying to keep his face relaxed, and he actually showed his teeth. He wasn't used to all this sweetness from his students and had never found himself making an effort for it, but with you, it was worth it.

Indeed, no one but you spoke directly to him out of pure, spontaneous will. If others did, he would remain serious, with a furrowed brow, and nod in agreement. He honestly preferred it that way, with no one besides you trying to have a small talk with him. He didn't dislike his students, but he didn't like flattery and dumb questions that could be avoided if they paid attention in class.

His head began to ache, and he noticed the sweat on his body, prickling and making him feel irritated. Stress was about to come back, but he remembered that he needed to read your email. He removed his belt, sliding it off his waist slowly and soon feeling relieved. He felt even better after unbuttoning all the buttons on his shirt and peeling it off. He quickly decided between taking a shower or reading your sweet words first, considering which order would leave him relaxed for longer so he could sleep. He knew that whatever he did, thoughts related to you would still linger in his mind until he fell asleep.

He sat on the bed, pulling the laptop toward him, and although he wasn't in a hurry, he found himself restless until the screen lit up, and he could access his account. Once he did, your simple message didn't fail to soften him. The excessive exclamation points reminded him of how young you were. It was like a letter, with your polite and correct punctuation. He could almost hear your voice as he read your words.

The way you called him "Mr. Turner" never failed to affect him. Others had addressed him this way, but it was different with you. Your eyes sparkled, your smile widened, your pupils got alive, and your pleasant face eagerly awaited for him to look at you and speak to you. He thought he was too old for this, and he certainly was, but he couldn't avoid how you had invaded his soul.

You had no knowledge of what was going on in his head, but he felt like he was corrupting you. He felt dirty for getting so energized by giving you compliments he knew you liked to hear and then patting your back while seeing you happy about it. What the hell was he doing? And he couldn't deny that he found comfort in how beautiful you looked when you were frustrated, your eyes seemed more tired, and your breathing uneven when you were upset about one of his negative comments (sometimes he did it on purpose).

Feeling his own chest grow heavier and his mind getting increasingly lost, he opted for a shower, even though he was aware that idealizing you wouldn't end there. Now without clothes, under the shower, with you like a curse surrounding him, he realized just how messed up he was. He couldn't avoid it anymore, even though he didn't want to. He knew there was no turning back.

The words from your email clung to him as water flowed over his hair and down his shoulders. You had shown how much you appreciated him and knew his work, the care in choosing your words to praise him, and saying that you wanted to get to him in person soon to reinforce how much you had liked his feedback, the way would like to work through them and see you unravel in front of him because he noticed that your courage in emails wasn't the same as in person. He found that so adorable.

His overactive imagination was leading him to cute places related to you, but it was sparking other curiosities in him too, even though it was about how delicate and somewhat innocent he found you (although he would never admit it that way). Soon, he felt heavy, needing relief as the water splashed over him, and he sighed in exasperation at himself. He was being as pathetic as a teenager. Why couldn't he stop?

His breathing grew rigid, catching in his dry throat, and he allowed himself to be carried away by the flow of his fantasies. His hand ran over his abdomen, eyes tightly closed, hoping that this would make him feel less guilty about it. His thumb glided over the sensitive skin, and a soft sigh escaped his lips; he felt sore and swollen despite doing so little. He continued slowly but with precision. He believed that giving you pleasure wasn't such a difficult task; you would appreciate the touch no matter what. Not that it made him want to go easy on you. He felt like he could have his hands around your waist, squeezing your soft flesh with delight while admiring your breasts, giving them gentle bites and generous suckling that would make you gasp for air for extended periods. Your hands would be cradling the nape of his neck, fingers entwined in his tousled hair. He found comfort in this, feeling that he could make you feel the same way.

He also thought that your body would respond well to his. He was convinced that you were addicted to being a good girl, and that was not up for discussion. The way you melted under his compliments, listened to his harsh criticisms, and sought to improve upon them, you would deny any chance of being labeled a bad girl. As more moans escaped his lips, with the strength of his fingers unaltered, he thought about going a little harder on you, not to hurt, but to make you think about begging him to stop. The tears that would stream down the corners of your eyes as you tried to be good for him and take him in you just right. "You're doing so well, babygirl. You’re so good to me." You would open your bright eyes to him, feeling encouraged to continue being what he needed. He would clearly notice and slow down, accommodating his fingers on your clit and making you adjust to him with soft whimpers that made you endure and enjoy it until the end.

He also liked how you would react when he stimulated you to the extreme, your sensitivity and his desire to taste your essence on his tongue. He could say that you were as sweet as his last name sounded when you talked to him in class. He would tease you with his tongue, kissing you as if it were the only time and chance he had to touch you. And you would fight not to close your thighs around him, but as you were a good girl, you would succeed in keeping yourself spread open while he exhausted you a few more times. The thought of you reaching your peak, your eyes closed, and the tears he knew would be there because you did that when you got frustrated with his opinions on your writing, and your mouth slightly open with his name escaping, made him reach his climax. A deep, raspy groan echoed through the bathroom, his head heavy, and his shoulders feeling lighter and more satisfied. He worked his hand until the last drops came out and marked his stomach just before the water could wash it away down the drain.

He felt good, guilty, but his body wasn't saying that. "Fuck," he sighed, not knowing if it was relief or the headache that would come later due to this; it was getting worse to a dimension he hadn't imagined. He would surely ruin you if he continued; it wasn't as enjoyable as he wished.

Still, he got out of the shower and found himself picturing how you would snuggle up to him, your tired body and calm eyes enveloped by his, and how he would love to tell you stories until he saw you fall asleep safe in his arms or listen to you talk about your day. He liked your voice; it made him feel good. At this point, he desired you in all these ways, from the most profane to the most adorable, for your physical and emotional well-being.

You still haunted his dreams, so vividly that he reached out for you in bed. In his imagination, he had lifted you by the waist and placed you sitting on his desk. The remaining students had left, and he could revel in how your hands were trembling and your face was so delicate as you gazed at him. You used to wear knee-high socks with longer boots, and he found it sexy yet cute. He felt like you made things your own, that you gave life to them. And then he found himself pulling at that piece of clothing, your legs spreading apart, and he had to instruct you to stay quiet before someone noticed as his fingers touched between your thighs. He caressed over the damp fabric, nodding his head and waiting for you to do the same, indicating that you understood to stay calm and quiet. The door would be closed, but the glass window could still give you away. You were facing away from it, and if you behaved, everything would go smoothly.

Alex could feel you soaking through his fingers, making them slippery. You sucked on his finger skillfully, being such a great girl, and stayed still without him having to coax you into relaxing as he went deeper. Your sighs were adorable, and he felt himself getting hard. He woke up before he could make you reach your peak and realized that the dream had an effect on him. There, he knew that if given the opportunity, maybe he wouldn't be able to fight against what he wanted to do, purely out of morality.

…

The following week, there was no class with Turner due to some unforeseen circumstances of his. However, he was still around for the week. Being as observant as you were, you passed by the same spot at 12:45 on Friday, gave him a slight wave, and although you had planned to approach him and ask how he was, you didn't. That is, until he called out to you, causing your body to freeze and your heart to race, forcing you to get closer.

He adjusted the bag on his shoulder, his cheeks flushed and intense. You noticed his restlessness as you got to him; it was cute, not awkward. He held a coffee and had a cigarette between his fingers. He exhaled the smoke in the opposite direction to yours and got rid of it as soon as you arrived by his side.

"Are you good, Professor?" It didn't fail to make him nervous, but he still looked at you without understanding. "I'm sorry, I guess it's not my business; I just thought to ask out of politeness since I haven't seen you this week."

He laughed at how you stumbled over your words, and he didn't blame you; he felt the same way. The fact that he made you feel like your question was inappropriate even made his chest tighten a bit.

"It's okay, I had a routine check-up, but I'm fine," he replied briefly but nodded with a comfortable smile. He could see you swallowing nervously and how your fingers wouldn't stop moving while he had his eyes on you.

"I thought of a book for you, if you don't mind." Your eyes met his, and you seemed excited. "I really like it, and I thought you might like it too."

The idea that he had thought of you made your body tingle, and the rush of blood to your face drowned out the noise around you. You took the coffee from his hands, noticing how he fumbled with opening his bag, and the light touch of your skins made you wish for more—it was warm and soft.

He took out the book, handing it to you, and you nodded with a faint smile. You hugged the cover to yourself, avoiding his gaze for a moment. It felt insane being around him after all the things you did with him in mind. You weren't exactly proud of that. The collar of his striped T-shirt was carelessly folded, and the buttons you loved so much were unbuttoned, revealing his chest briefly. You wished you could fix it for him.

This time, he wore a dark blazer and flare jeans, and he was pleasant to look at. He ran his hand through his hair and sighed, "I left notes in some parts so that I can know what you think later, if you'll allow me." Then you realized that he was doing this because he knew you needed to do well in his course to get into the master's program; still, you found it cute.

"Oh, yes, I can write to you when I finish, right?" He agreed, knowing that he would be waiting for your email in the coming weeks.

"I'm glad to know you're okay, Mr. Turner," you said awkwardly, your face fervently hot, and thanked him for the book. As you turned around, you felt his hand on your wrist; it wasn't as soft as before, but it was comforting, with the fingertips firmer as he squeezed your skin. Then, your eyes met his with a raised eyebrow.

"I need you to give me back my coffee, pet," he said playfully, and your knees weakened a bit. He felt pleased to be able to contemplate you in his mind.

…

The heat had taken its toll on Alex. He had left his blazer in the car and decided to visit one of the open bars near the campus. His hands rested inside his pockets as he patiently waited for his juice and water, yearning for the moment when he could finally get home and enjoy a cold beer. It was his final class of the afternoon, which meant it was getting quite late, and the students were scattered around. While the bar wasn't overly crowded, he could still recognize a few faces.

As soon as the chilled cup was placed in his hands, he caught sight of you with your back turned. You were wearing your signature knee-high socks and boots, but this time, you had opted for a skirt and a tank top, giving you a more relaxed and comfortable appearance. You looked stunning. With you engaged in conversation with a friend he had glimpsed from a distance, you were all smiles and animated hand gestures, bringing life to the scene.

Realizing he was staring, Alex chided himself and tried to divert his attention back to his juice. Yet, within a few minutes, his gaze involuntarily returned to you. Now, you were alone, engrossed in his book that sat next to you, its pages marked to indicate that you had already begun reading. A smile of satisfaction graced his lips; he had strategically placed notes between the pages for you to discover, hoping you would notice.

You sipped from an orange beverage, and Alex decided not to speculate whether it contained alcohol. However, he knew you weren't intoxicated when you suddenly turned towards him and greeted him with a friendly wave. He felt momentarily caught off guard but managed to offer a warm wave in return, nodding to acknowledge you. Your smile was radiant, and he couldn't help but notice how different you appeared outside the confines of the classroom. He longed for the opportunity to engage with you in a context that wasn't purely academic, but he was well aware that pursuing such a connection might be detrimental to both of you.

You turned back to your previous position, sipping your drink through a straw, while still sneakily stealing glances at him. Alex deliberated whether to linger a bit longer for your sake. The table you occupied was well-lit, offering a refreshing ambiance that was perfect for a summer day. The atmosphere was delightful, and he could easily imagine you enjoying such a setting regularly.

He held his bottle of water, pondering the ethical implications of sitting with you while you were alone. His initial plan was to finish his drink and then leave. But he couldn't bring himself to do that—not for his sake, but for yours. It wouldn't be fair to you. He feared the potential consequences would fall squarely on your shoulders rather than his own.

He shook his head and eventually decided to leave. As you lowered your head into his hands, he waited for a few more minutes, half-expecting you to look his way. But it didn't happen.

Then everything seemed to happen very quickly. He returned to his car, leaving behind the water and even starting the engine before realizing he had left his wallet inside. He hesitated but ultimately turned back, despite his frustration over forgetting his documents.

His wallet was still where he had left it. He retrieved it and then shifted his attention to you, curious and attentive. Your hands were fidgeting with your socks, as if attempting to wipe away sweat. A boy was seated in front of you, but your attention was elsewhere. The guy sported a smile that made Alex uncomfortable on your behalf.

Your discomfort was palpable, yet you seemed powerless to do anything about it. You turned to the side, your head moving away from the boy, and as you gasped for air, the guy's grin widened. Your elbows dropped onto your knees, and your hands moved to pull your hair away from your face. You appeared more sweaty than usual, and you felt increasingly weak.

As you realized your strength was waning, the boy signaled for someone else to assist you. You resisted, but they gently pushed you back into your chair to prevent you from collapsing. They weren't being nice about it.

For Alex, that was the tipping point. He strode over to them and forcefully removed the boy's hand from your arm. "Get away from her," his stern voice reverberated, and you didn't understand what was happening, but you knew you didn't feel well.

The guys attempted to speak over Alex, trying to explain themselves, even though there was no justification for their actions. Their chatter only served to irritate him further. He held onto you, his hand caressing your face, and your eyes were half-closed; you were clearly not in a good state.

After another remark from the boys, Alex glared at the boy with an even more intense hatred. His brow furrowed, and his tone grew sharper. "Just stay away from her; I won't let her be alone with you," he warned, making it clear that they should not attempt such behavior with anyone else either.

The boys exchanged nervous glances and silently agreed to leave, though Alex couldn't have cared less about them at that moment.

"What’re you feeling, pet?" He placed his hands on his knees, lowering himself to your level. You were dazed, your skin tingling, and you weren't sure what to say, or if you could say anything at all. Alex considered asking where you lived and offering to take you home, but he suspected you lived in the vicinity of the campus, and it wouldn't be appropriate for him to be seen with you in this state. Taking you to his own home didn't seem like a good idea either, but he did live nearby, and it appeared to be the most reasonable option.

He cupped your face in his hands, close enough to smell your scent once again. You smiled faintly, your eyes still distant but focusing on him. You were conscious, just not in the best condition. "I don't want to stay here; my head is spinning," you mumbled, not entirely sure what was wrong. It could have been due to poor nutrition or dehydration, you thought.

"Look, I'll stay with you ‘til you feel better, alright?" he spoke gently, as if soothing a baby. You nodded, his touch on your cheek making you lean into his warmth. As he thought about reaching out to your forehead with his lips, he realized where he was and quickly pulled back, rising to his feet with you leaning on him for support.

…

Alex gently sat you in the passenger seat, and you huddled in front of him, noticeably self-conscious about your attire. He chuckled warmly, pulling his blazer from the back seat. You felt cradled by his presence as he slipped the fabric over your arms and fastened the buttons around your midsection. It resembled a short dress, making you feel more comfortable, and it carried a pleasant scent. Your stomach still tingled, and you were aware that it was because of him and not whatever had happened earlier.

He rested your head against the headrest, his serene eyes guiding you, and he didn't seem regretful about helping you, despite the crease between his brows. Then he fastened your seatbelt and handed you his water bottle. Your vision was blurry, and sudden movements hurt, but he wasn't a saint, and he had a rough view of how you must be feeling. He'd been your age before, although thankfully, in his case, it had been a result of a spontaneous choice.

"I'll wait a bit before starting the car, alright?" he suggested, and you nodded. He gently led the bottle to your lips, encouraging you to drink a substantial portion of it. He wiped your chin and face with the hem of his T-shirt, and you followed his every move, your attention fixated on him. Without the blazer, he looked even better, and you lightly held his wrist. He seemed concerned, but you did it because you wanted to and felt that you could, even though you'd never been this close before. "Thank you, Mr. Turner," you said casually, as if it didn't affect him profoundly.

As he sat down on the driver's side of the car, he closed the tinted windows, feeling safer with that precaution. He still worried about putting you in danger. He waited, knowing that feeling dizzy along with drinking water wouldn't be a good combination, even though he had insisted on it to help your body recover more quickly. He could hear your calm breathing, which put him at ease. You had closed your eyes, your mouth slightly ajar, and he looked at you, allowing himself to be captivated by every detail. He carefully adjusted your hair to prevent it from catching on the seat and strands from being pulled, whispering, "You can sleep; everything’ll be alright, I promise, little one." You found yourself charmed by the pet name, involuntarily smiling, and he made a mental note that you like it. Your arms lightly touched, and with the comforting scent of him surrounding you, you drifted into a light sleep. It was strange to be in such a bad situation with an outcome that neither of you regretted. He kept the radio off until reaching your destination. He’d never drive without music.

…

Your eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light as you realized you were leaning on him for support. Your forehead was resting on his shoulder, his soft T-shirt against your skin. He was more comforting to touch than your mind had led you to trust. He was kneeling in front of you while you sat on the bed. You no longer felt dizzy, but you were weak, with not all your senses fully present. Alex's hands delicately removed your earrings and necklaces, and it was nice to have him so close, a bit surreal. You almost believed you could be a doll with how he was treating you. He moved back, laying you down on his bed, and he smiled at you as a way to reassure you that everything was okay. You grabbed his arm, afraid he would leave. Alex quickly shook his head. "Hey, little one, I'm not going anywhere. I just need to get some water for you and something to dry your face." He sounded caring, making you want to cry because you knew this was wrong. But why did it feel so right?

"Promise?" You asked, not into the idea of falling into a deep sleep and when you wake up he wouldn't be there to call you little one anymore. He nodded, extending his pinky finger to seal the promise. The silence without him wasn't comforting; you felt like there were monsters under the bed. Still out of mind about time and space, you realized you were in his room, which made you feel even more fragile. The room had a light blue color, seemed well-lit during the day, had books scattered in an organized manner, and two guitars hanging on the wall. That made you put your hand over your mouth as you imagined how his fingers would behave playing those strings. You wanted to hug him, to let the scent and the soft chest lull you to sleep again. Your head was noisy, and you didn't like it.

When he returned, he moved in slow motion to you. He wiped your face and neck with a damp cloth, and you wondered why he was alone. He was a good man; you had thought about that before. Alex wouldn't sleep next to you, but he would stay with you as long as you needed him. He sat with his back against the headboard, looking at you for a moment. It was too late; this was no longer just a casual situation. You'd have to talk about it; you had formed a bond. Although you were scared, Alex liked it.

You asked him to lie down, and he complied. You were side by side, facing each other. Your eyelids struggled to close, but first they followed your fingers as they roamed his face. You traced the gentle lines at the corner of his eye, then the bridge of his nose. He was handsome. Sometimes you wanted to forget that he was older than you, even though you liked him that way. Your hand then touched his rough stubble, and he smiled when he saw you smiling at him. It was like a dream, like you had imagined and even better.

In an abrupt and unquestionably unplanned proceed, your hand hooked onto the collar of his T-shirt, pulling yourself closer. It was a light pull, and in the blink of an eye, your lips were on his, tender and airless. They lingered there, just touching, feeling each other's warmth and the mixing of breaths. Your hand pressed against his chest and held him to yourself, like he could heal you. You moved your lips with his slowly, warmly, and precisely, enjoying in a comfortable sigh every second of it, until he broke into a sigh of reality. He couldn't be doing this, not with you like this. Not wanting to startle you, he sealed your cheeks and nose a few countless times before planting small forehead kisses when he needed to refuse your touch. He felt guilty, but he wouldn't deny that it had been good, way better than he had fantasized. There were no words, and none were needed; both of you were aware of it. Although he thought you might not be as much, he feared you might not even remember this when you woke up.

Alex held your palm against his chest until you fell asleep. Then he got up, covered your body with a warm sheet, and left you there. Unable to restrain himself from touching your face before and stroking your hair. The next day, you would wake up, wondering if it had been a vivid dream or not. But his room would leave no doubts, with the guitars, the well-lit atmosphere, and his blazer still carrying his scent on you. You didn't know how you were going to talk to him after that, you thought about how he must think of you as a kid who doesn't know how to be in the real world. This time, however, you noticed a photo on the bedside table. He was hugging a woman while kissing her forehead. She had a neatly cut fringe and an angelic face; she was very pretty, and it made you feel insecure. She was around his age. You were wrong to be there, and then you got that the bed you were on was a double bed. You wanted to run away even though your head was pounding. Professor Turner might act like a good man, but he was still a man. Above all, you tried to think well of him; perhaps it was a divorce, right? You would have noticed the ring on his finger if he were married. He wouldn't take off the ring, would he? But why was that photo still there? You quickly got up, failing to remain composed when you saw that he had left a note and some money in case you needed to call an Uber. You couldn't just read it right away. You wanted to believe he was good, but it hurt. You felt used even though you hadn't done anything. Yet, you still felt like you wanted him around more often because you felt good with him. In the middle of class, Alex struggled with impatience, hoping you wouldn't leave without taking the note and the snack he had left for you, so you would have his number and be safe. But it didn't happen, at least not when he expected it to.

...

taglist: @ohladymoon @indierockgirrl @bloo-wisteria @bellaturner @cosmoschaotic @nikisfwn @andrews-lovr @nela-cutie @artimonkii @alexturnersbbg3 @blackberryblossom @lilmisssweetdreams

(lmk if you want to be in or out of the taglist!)

#alex turner #alex turner x reader #alex turner smut #alex turner x y/n #arctic monkeys #alex turner fanfic #alex turner x you #alex turner imagine #fanfic

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annasfantasies · 5 months

Text

Sugar 2

/alex turner x fem!reader

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

Credits to the owners of the photos

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

PART ONE

Pairing: the car!alex turner x fem!reader

Summery: the cute evening with Al turned into something more

Warnings: age gap (Alex 37 and reader 25), soft!dom Alex, clit play, spanking, praising kink, fingering (f receiving), p in w, fem nicknames (sugar, darling, pretty girl, baby, good girl) choking, ruined orgasm, blow job, unprotected sex, cream pie, aftercare

Word count: 2.2k

ENGLISH ISN’T MY FIRST LANGUAGE

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

"Couldn't stop thinking about you all day, darling."

I yelped as he smacked my ass, the burning sensation swiftly smoothed by the hand. "Alex!"

He chuckled not even bothered by my weight on his shoulder and continued caressing my ass. I huffed at his cockiness but that was quickly replaced by another yelp as his hand landed on me again.

I rolled my eyes and realised we were almost in our bedroom. In that moment I got an idea. I giggled and outstretched my hand. "What-" I interrupted him by my hand landing on his ass. He gasped but suddenly I was thrown on our bed. I looked up at Alex with a smirk on my lips. "What?" I asked innocently and fluttered my lashes on him. He raised his eyebrows and put his hands on his hips. I didn't even realise I was biting my bottom lip until he broke the tension in the room.

"Playing innocent?" He titled his head slightly and shifted his weight to one leg.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." I smiled at him. I'm playing with fire, he will teach me how to behave later and I can't wait for the lesson.

I raised my leg and rested it right above the tent of his trousers. He looked down and then back at me, few brown locks of his hair fell into his face. Slowly I moved the leg lower and started rubbing against him while holding eye contact with him the whole time.

The fire in his eyes grew and I continued my teasing game. I could feel him harden below my foot but before I could say something about it, he slapped the leg away, bend down and turned my body on the bed. All I could do is gasp. He had already lifted my, well his white button up to reveal my ass covered in baby pink lace panties.

"So naughty, hm?" I could hear the smirk in his husky voice, he stroked my cheeks, kneading them with his big hands. I sucked in a sharp breath, my right asscheek was starting to hurt from the earliest slaps. "I asked you a question, love." He said with another smack against the skin. I made a noise which sounded like something between whine, moan and yelp and nodded. He chuckled and caressed me again. "Words, sugar."

I received another one. "Yes!" I moaned out the so wanted answer.

"Good girl." He praised me causing my walls to clench around nothing, I could feel my panties getting soaked. He leaned down and kissed the red and burning spots. I buried my face into the mattress and sucked a sharp breath in my lungs. "Sensitive, hm?"

"Yes." I whispered and bit my bottom lip. Suddenly he touched the wet spot between my legs with his thumb. I gasped but pushed against his finger. “Please."

He chuckled. "You think you deserve it?" He started slowly rubbing the wetness, moving lower to my clit. That made me whine loudly.

"Please, Alex." I whined again when he added more pressure and started rubbing quick cycles on it.

"Answer." He said firmly. I arched my back and pushed into his hand more.

"I do. I've been waiting for you all day and I made you cookies." I said, every now and then whimpering. I gathered the white sheets beneath me with my hands. "Please."

He chuckled and smacked my left cheek with his free hand. "Well, when you're asking so nicely."

Before I could beg more he pulled my ass in the air and slid my panties down my thighs just above my knees.

I could feel his stare on my bare pussy, the juices leaking down my lags. "Such a pretty view." He whispered lowly. His voice full of lust making me shiver and clench around nothing.

"Alex please." I rub my thighs against each other trying to get some relief.

He chuckled behind me and placed his palms on my asscheeks, squeezing them. I bucked back into his hands and whined.

His fingers slowly slid lower and lower until he was where I wanted and needed him. He spread my fold and I gasped when he blew air onto me. "Alex!"

He laughed again before sliding two finger between my fold, gathering the wetness and pulling away.

I sighted in frustration but was interrupted by a licking sound and Alex humming. "What-" I looked over my shoulder and saw Alex's fingers in his mouth. The walls of my insides clenched around nothing and the wetness ran down my lags yet again.

He looked angelic. His hair messy, eyes closed, lashes touching his rosy cheeks, lips wrapped around the fingers. Pure pleasure written all over his face.

I moaned which made him open his eyes. The eye contact was so intense and full of lust I bit into my bottom lip, Alex's dark eyes drifted to it and before I could say anything he grabbed me by my jaw and kissed me.

It wasn't sweet and cute like when he came home. No. It was want and neediness. I deepened it and opened my mouth, touching his lips by my tongue as a request for him to open his. He did and slid his tongue into my mouth, we fought for dominance, even though we both knew he is going to win.

He pulled away too soon, touching my forehead with his and panting. I closed my eyes and tried to catch my breath as well but was surprised by the now wet fingers quickly sliding into me.

I gasped and he pulled away, his hand sliding to the back of my head and burring me into the sheets. Alex slowly pulled almost all the way out before shoving into me again and deeper. I moaned his name loudly but was muffled by the sheets as he punched me more into it.

He continued to slide in and out, drawing loud moans and needy whines out of me. He occasionally slowed down to almost stoping making me beg. The room was full of wet sounds, my whines and Alex's praising. The pleasure I was feeling in my whole body started to be too much, the knot in my stomach tightening. "Aly! I'm gonna cum!" I screamed.

He moved his hand and wrapped it around my neck, squeezing me just right. I was almost there but just as I was about to finish he stoped everything and pulled away. My body shook as I groaned, sniffled and screamed, babbling things that weren't making sense. "No, no, no! Alex, please- I-"

He chuckled and smacked my red cheek again.

"You- you said that-"

"That was for the slap you gave me." I heard him stand up rustling with something. "Sit up." He ordered. I pulled my self up onto my knees before turning around and sitting on the edge of our bed. I looked up at him with my best puppy eyes I could do, my cheeks probably red as apples and glossed with tears.

He put a lock of my hair behind my ear and stroked my cheek, wiping the tears away. "So pretty." He smiled at me. He pulled down his already unzipped trousers, I helped him pull them down past his knees before sliding my palms back up to his black boxers. I bit my lip when I saw the outline of his cock. I took him out and almost moaned. He was big and thick with a vein going all the way up from the bottom to the pinky head. Even though I saw and took him multiple times it will always make me nervous.

I looked him in the eyes asking for permission. "Go on, pretty girl."

That was all I needed before taking him in my hand. He twitched and the pre cum dripped down his length. I started to stroke him and spreading the wetness, brushing my thumb agains his tip and squeezing him every time nearing it.

Alex was releasing breath groans and small moans. He put his hands at the back of my head and pulled me to him. "Need your mouth." Was all he said.

I smiled at him while holding eye contact and opened my mouth, slowly lowering my head until he was touching me. I took the tip in and sucked onto him. He groaned and pushed ma head until he hit the back of my throat causing me to gag. "So warm, baby." He threw his head back moaning out loud my name. "So good."

I started moving my mead, slowly speeding up. I stroke the rest of him that didn’t fit into my mouth, squeezing him and playing with his balls. He pulled onto my hair which made me moan. He started bucking his hips back into me, hitting the back of my throat. He let out more whimpers and praises. There was starting to form a wet patch underneath me and saliva running down my chin.

"Fuck! You're so good, such a good girl." He rasped out, the end of the sentence turned into another high pitched moan. I clenched my thighs trying to get some kind of release.

I felt him twitch agains my tongue meaning he is close. I bumped my head faster and took him even deeper. I don't care I can barely breath, I want him to cum, I want to taste him.

Without another warning the hot drops of his cum shoot into me. The taste and sounds of his the only thing I can focus on. I continued my movements until he stoped me. I released him from my warmth with a pop and saliva connecting us.

He sighed and took my jaw. "Open up." I obeyed and sticked out my tongue covered in the liquid. He smirked and stroked my red cheek. "Swallow." Were his next commands. I did as he said, looking into his eyes the whole time. I opened again to show him, hoping he will reward me. “Good girl.” He nodded and squeezed my cheeks.

“I think you deserve it now.”

I nodded, desperately wanting him inside me already, needing him. “Please.” My voice was hoarse from earlier activities.

He bend down to be face to face with me and took my neck into his hand again. His lips crushed into mine, both of us moaning, our tongues fighting yet again. He pushed me onto my back and got on top of me. My hand flew into his brown locks, pulling onto them.

We moved back until I was resting on the fluffy pillows. Alex squeezed the sides of my neck, drawing a whine out of me. Unfortunately he pulled away and moved to my neck, sucking and nibbling on the skin, trying to leave new mark. The last ones were already fading.

I gasped when his teeth sank into me. The sensation becoming overpowering but in a pleasing way.

Another gasp left me when I felt the head of his cock sliding between me folds, gathering wetness before going to the entrance. He looked at me silently asking me, I nodded and he finally slid in.

His thickness stretching me out even after I took him countless times. I will never get used to him and I’m loving it. When he was finally in I was feeling full and completed. He waited a minute before pulling almost all the way out and then pushing back in and even deeper.

As he was moving and letting his beautiful sounds out into the crook of my neck, I was releasing my on. The room was full of cries of pleasure and wet noises.

“Taking me so well, sugar. So good for me, as always.” He rasped out and kissed me hard, pouring his love into it and I tried my best to return it. He pulled away and rested his forehead against mine, holding me close.

I started feeling the familiar feeling and pressed him by my legs just above his ass, trying to make him go faster and deeper. He understood and did as I desired, moved his hand between our bodies and touching my center. He started massaging me and before I knew it was tripping over the edge. “I’m cummin-“

“Me too, baby. Me too.” Was all he said before filling me up with loud groan.

He laid on top of me as we panted, trying to catch our breathes and holding each other in our arms.

“You did so good, my love.” He broke the silence and kissed my cheeks and forehead. “I love you.”

I smiled at him and stroked his cheek. “I love you too, handsome.”

He placed a soft kiss on his on my lips before pulling out and getting up. His cum dripping out of me and on the sheets. He disappeared into a bathroom that is connected to the bedroom. I undressed myself completely and when he came back he was holding a wet towel. He got between my legs and cleaned me and then tucked me in the bed, placing another kiss on my face.

He left to clean himself too and came back in new pair of underwear before sliding into the bed with me. He wrapped his arms around me, bringing me as close as possible and burring his face in my hair.

I hid myself in his chest, letting his warmth and scent swallow me.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

A/N: first time writing smut in English so I hope it’s readable😐 please let me know if you find any mistakes or anything!

Feedback is always welcome💗 don’t forget to leave a comment or I you are shy you can send an anonymous text‼️

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captainwans · 5 months

Text

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!”

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darkacademiablues · 11 months

Text

Baby we oughta

*takes off sunglasses, intense eye contact*

Fuhck

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joekeeryswife · 6 months

Note

hi hihi can u do an age gap fic w alex - like both alex and reader are famous and reader gets a ton of hate for dating him and alex js comforts reader 😕

Age Gap - a.t

a/n: hey loves! i haven’t written for alex in ages! my requests are open for him so please send me some through, enjoy 🫶🏼 y/n is 26 and Alex is 38

you had been with Alex for over a year and a half but only just recently announced it. you knew that you both would get hate for it but you didn’t realise the extent of hate you would receive. you had a big following, you were a famous supermodel and an influencer and met Alex when you were at one of the music release parties and hit it off straight away.

you’d gotten hate before, being a model came with the thousands of people hating on you just for being yourself but it never got to you because you knew that these people were either jealous or just bored and you never even looked at their comments because it wasn’t worth it.

there had been speculation of you and Alex being together your whole relationship which never bothered you, you didn’t feel the need to explain yourself when people would ask questions about it but you and Alex were both sick of not being able to go out in public and do normal stuff together.

Alex had gone out to the studio a few hours ago to do some recording and you took the opportunity to look through the comments of your post. you weren’t shocked at you getting hate but shocked at the amount of hate you were receiving.

your post was cute, a few pictures of you and Alex in a photobooth together which showed how much you were in love and you were upset that people didn’t agree. there were obviously hundereds of lovely comments, people saying how great you looked together, how loved up you looked but they were overwhelmed with the thousands of hate comments.

yn.yln: 🤍 @AlexTurner

View 104,628 comments

honeymoon: babies🥹

yourbestfriend: surprised i could keep this quiet 🤫

ynfan01: YAY OMFG

ynfan5183: NEVER BEEN SO EXCITED IN ALL MY LIFE

arcticm0nkeys: ew wth. Alex should be with someone older than this girl, isn’t she like 20 or something?

fan61838: y/n is so gorgeous i can’t deal! Alex is a lucky guy.

user0183: no one wants you here, you shouldn’t be with someone like Alex. he deserves so much better than you.

user163: wtaf is this. why would he want her?

yn.alexfan163: the update we have all been waiting for🤭

user74: no because tell me why alex chose her? she is way too young.

monkeys5363: our boy looks so happy, they deserve the world 🥰

user260: please leave y/n, you don’t deserve alex.

monkeysfan: alex looks so happy guys, leave them be 🫶🏼

ynswife: they’re so in love🫶🏼

alexturnershair: don’t even they looks so happy🥹

user54: these photos are vile. Alex honey we forgive you for choosing her but please leave. you deserve someone so much better than y/n.

your eyes filled with tears and you quickly put your head in your hands. the hate never usually got to you but this was a whole new level. were these people right? did alex really deserve someone better? were you really too young for him? your mind was filled with a million questions. what if alex decided that you were too young for him and that he deserved someone better than you?

a few tears spilled down your cheeks, this was awful. you had never felt so pick on up until now. yes you were a lot younger than him but that didn’t mean you weren’t mature enough. it wasn’t like you were underage, you were a full grown adult and these people were picking on you because you were younger than alex?

your mind was going so crazy that you didn’t even hear Alex come through the front door. he had even called out to you and got worried when he got no response. he found you sat curled up on the sofa, your small sobs could be heard and his body filled with worry.

“sweetheart? what’s happed?” he quickly sat down next to you and pulled your body into his. he kissed your forehead and rubbed his hand up and down your back soothingly. he heard you sniffle as you tried to calm yourself down but it was no use, a sob escaped you making his heart break. “take a deep breathe, talk to me honey”

you tried to regulate your breathing, listening to his heartbeat as you hugged him closer. “you’re gonna leave me” he was confused, where has this come from? it was completely out of character for you and he had never ever seen you like this before. “what are you on about baby, i’m not going to leave you” he felt your arms squeeze his waist.

you pulled away so you could look at him, his face was filled with concern and confusion. “i was reading the comments on our photo” he sighed, he knew something like this would happen when you announced your relationship but he didn’t think it would make you cry like this. “you shouldn’t read them sweetheart, you know them people are just jealous” his thumb reached out to stroke your tear stained cheeks.

“i know but they were all saying how you deserved so much better than me and how im way too young for you. that you deserve someone who’s closer to you in age and it just got my mind going. maybe you do deserve better than me” now his heart had full on shattered. you sounded so vulnerable and scared and the look on your face made it even worse. you just looked so sad and he hated that. deep down he was fuming that these people had made you cry but he didn’t want to show you that.

“do you really think i listen to what the comments have to say? do you think i let my so called fans dictate my life? i don’t listen to them. they can’t decide who’s good for me and who’s not, they don’t even know me. and if i had an issue with your age i wouldn’t of dated you in the first place, it isn’t like you’re a minor. you’re an adult same as what i am. i know it’s hard to not read the comments but i really don’t give a shit about what they say” his eyes were soft as he looked at you, he hated that these people had made you this upset.

“i love you and those dickheads can just fuck off. you are the only girl for me, yes i’ve had relationships in the past but i’ve never ever felt like this and we don’t need their input, we never did before so why listen now” he lent in and gave you a quick kiss on the lips. “now i bet there were some nice comments in there, they can’t be all bad surely” you showed him your phone which was still showing the post.

he looked through the comments and shook his head as he read the bad ones. “most of these people don’t even follow me, they’re just doing it because they want attention and they want to hurt you but don’t let them get to you, they’re just a bunch of assholes who don’t have a life” he passed your phone back to you and pulled you into him again.

“you’re too pretty to cry honey, i love you and that’s all that matters. no more looking at these silly comments” he felt you nod “i love you too” he kissed your forehead softly.

#fanfiction #imagines #alex turner x fem!reader #alex turner x y/n #alex turner x reader imagines #alex turner x you #alex turner masterlist #alex turner fluff #alex turner imagines #alex turner imagine #alex turner x reader #alex turner #alex turner angst #alex turner one shot #alex turner arctic monkeys #alex turner fanfic #alex turner fic #alex turner blurb

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starkwlkr · 1 year

Note

i saw that you were going to see arctic monkeys and you're an f1 fan so would it be possible to combine those two?? like maybe a charles fic where the reader dated both alex and charles? also the concept of the alex writing all of his songs about the reader is my favorite maybe that could play into the story lol i hope you have fun at the concert!!

but i crumble completely | charles leclerc and alex turner

i am currently fighting for my life on my bed because I might either have the flu or covid and it sucks 😭 i babysit my nephew for my sister and she was the one who caught covid first so yeah <3 anyways arctic monkeys was amazing and the best experience ever!!

also the person who requested this messaged me and we both kinda changed it up a little so yeah <3 charles girlies, I’m so sorry 🥲

liked by selenagomez, devonleecarlson and 1,377,290 others

y/n.l/n i love red ❤️💋🌹❣️🍒💄

arcticmonkeygirly MA’AM??

arabellaslipstick WAIT HUH

ferraridepressionclub WAIT

leclercgirls so we won’t be seeing her in the paddock again? 😭 i love her outfits

mclarenistheproblem I’m more surprised that y/n smokes? this is news to me

shesthunderwhores i think she stopped smoking when she got with your car guy because when she was with alex she smoked soooo

verstappenwdc CAR GUY LMAOOOO

ruminebabyimyours WE HAD Y/N FIRST JUST SAYINGAND NOW SHES BACK SUCK IT (and see)

c25516 honestly the way f1 fans and charles fans treated y/n I’m glad she’s back with someone who actually loves her

yukismenu mf didn’t even defend his own gf when she was getting hate 🤨

liked by landonorris, mileskane and 947,747 others

y/n.l/n baby i’m yoursssss💋💋💋

joris__trouche miss you!

y/n.l/n love you j! whenever you’re free lmk singing and dancing is always better with youuu🫶🏼

ferrarigovroomvroom this is so iconic of them tbh

landonorris can i join?

danielricciardo and me

pierregasly and me

alex_albon and me

carlossainz55 who are we seeing?

#inbox <3 #anon #formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #alex turner x reader #arctic monkeys imagine #alex turner

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rentsturner · 1 year

Text

The Jeweller’s Hands - AT

Professor!Alex Turner x reader

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, restraints, sub space, gags, edging, teasing, teacher!student relationship (but they met before that), aftercare, pet names

a/n: this is the dirtiest thing I’ve ever written and it’s not even that smutty, it’s mostly aftercare and fluff with a healthy dose of subspace. this was written for my bestie @martinipoliz . don’t like it - don’t read it

It had been a long night - a very long night.

Teasing Alex while he was teaching your class had not been your best idea, not by a long shot. The expression on his face as he watched you smirk at him from your desk was enough to turn your insides to ice. But you hadn’t stopped with some harmless flirting, no, you were feeling a little braver than that. When he returned your essay, your hand grazed along his, giving him doe eyes as he towered over your sitting form. Then, to top it all off, you whispered ‘Was I a good girl, sir?’

It was just quiet enough to pass over the heads of the other students, but your seductive phrase went straight to Alex’s head and he stopped dead still next to you, his brain trying to process if you’d really just had the guts to say that outloud. When you fluttered your eyelashes at him, almost comically, you heard the lowest, quietest growl slip out of Alex’s mouth. He was not happy, not at all. These little flirtations may seem playful, but to Alex, your teacher, your boyfriend, this was very much not allowed. You were in serious trouble.

So that’s how you ended up spread eagled across his king-sized bed, arms tied to the bedposts by Alex’s various silk ties, and Alex between your legs, his hips pistoning into yours as he chased his own release. You’d finally been allowed to come, after multiple rounds of edging and teasing - ‘Don’t give what you can’t take, princess. You tease me, I’ll fucking tease you.’

Now your mind was fuzzy and warm as the euphoria of your orgasm ebbed away, the feeling of Alex’s damp skin rubbing against yours as he thrust into you becoming a little much, but somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew it wouldn’t be long now, perhaps from the laboured groans emanating from his chest, the way his hands were clawing at your thighs in a way that was sure to leave bruises, the beads of sweat dripping from his brow onto yours. Your jaw was beginning to ache from the spider gag firmly holding your mouth open and you were desperate to wrap your arms around Alex, the floating feeling in your head bringing with it a craving for skin to skin contact.

Finally, you felt the warm release of Alex’s seed deep inside you, felt the weight of him as he collapsed onto your chest, panting as he caught his breath. His unruly hair tickled your nose a little, causing you to whimper as best as you could around the unyielding gag.

Alex heard you though, lifting his head up to look into your glazed over eyes, recognising that it was too much for you now and knowing exactly needed.

‘So good for me, baby, eh? Took your punishment so well, such a good girl.’ he murmured between pants as his fingers gently undid the strap of the gag, slowly removing it from your mouth as you whined in discomfort.

‘There we go, princess, I’m gonna pull out now as well, ok?’

But you shook your head frantically before he could push himself up off your chest, the need to wrap your arms around him becoming unbearable. The words wouldn’t come out, instead another desperate whine slipped from your mouth. It was a good job Alex knew you well.

‘Arms first? That’s fine, baby, here you go.’ He untied the silk restraints with ease, rubbing your wrists gently with his fingers, before slowly massaging your aching jaw.

‘Better?’

You nodded as you wrapped your arms around his frame, dragging your nails up his sweaty back, pulling on the dark locks of hair that were beginning to curl around his ears, before running a thumb over his cheekbone. Alex relaxed slightly as he saw a little more focus come back into your eyes, the skin to skin contact obviously easing your previous discomfort.

‘’S okay, baby, am right here, yeah?’

You nodded again into his chest, inhaling his scent - sweat, sex and cigarettes. It went straight to your head, like your own personal dose of heroin. There was silence for a few minutes as you relaxed into Alex’s arms. He pressed a chaste kiss to your hairline, an apology, before he adjusted himself slightly, his now soft cock slipping out of your folds with a faint pop. You winced at the empty sensation, the fuzziness still crowding your head a little.

‘Need to clean up, love, I’ll be ten seconds, promise.’

You rolled into the duvet, curling up as you heard Alex’s retreating footsteps. He appeared again a few seconds later with a warm washcloth and sat on the end of the bed.

‘Open your legs, sweetheart.’

You whined and shook your head into the duvet. You were tired and you wanted to sleep and you wanted Al’s warm body back next to yours.

‘Come on, princess, I need to clean you up. The quicker we do this, the quicker we can go to sleep, ok? I know you’re tired.’

You shook your head once again, but Alex stroked along your thigh slowly, calming you a little, and you lifted your head to look at him with blurry eyes.

He smiled at you, his cheeks still a little pink from exertion, his hair messy and falling into his eyes. ‘For me, princess? Please?’

A little nudge on the inside of your thigh was enough to persuade you and you whined softly as the cloth brushed against your sensitive cunt, but it was over quickly, Alex stroking your thigh the whole time.

‘All done. Such a good girl.’ he cooed into your ear, pressing his hand to your back to pull you into his chest once again.

He threw the cloth away, grabbing your pyjamas from under the pillow and helping you into them with steady hands, whispering praises whenever you seemed a little fragile. He tugged on a fresh pair of boxers before settling into the bed, tucked up behind you so his chest was pressed against your back, his face buried in your hair, legs tangled together under the covers. The huff of his breath against your hair helped to ground you, almost as if he was blowing away the cotton wool in your head.

After a while, you turned to face Alex.

‘Back with me, princess?’

You murmured a small ‘yes’, trying to stifle a yawn at the same time. He chuckled and you felt the vibrations in his chest.

‘Was it alright? Didn’t go too hard on you, did I?’

‘No, Al, I loved it. I’m just knackered now, that’s all.’

‘That’s when I know I’ve done a good job.’ Alex chuckled again and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

‘You’re hot when you’re angry, y’know?’ You smirked up at him.

‘Yeah well, that’s what happens when you tease me while I’m trying to teach.’

Your smirk grew even wider at this but Alex knew exactly what you were thinking.

‘Uh-uh, don’t you dare do it again. Did I not just teach you that lesson?’

——————————————————————————

Thanks for reading! Hope yous enjoyed

#Alex turner #Alex turner x reader #Alex turner smut #Alex turner fluff #Alex turner imagine #Alex turner fanfiction #Arctic monkeys

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g1rlken · 4 months

Text

┏ 𝐅𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬 ┐

1. Part, Alex turner x actress!reader

summary: ugly break up and working together

warnings: smear campaigns, Twitter incels, award season, depression

word count: 4.8k+

Relationships become a hurdle of choreographing well being when you’re going through a difficult period in life. The one person that’s supposed to be wholly yours becomes another face to mask with. Empathy feels good for a week, two weeks, a month. As the days would stack up it would just feel like a customised emotion, a weight. That’s how y/n felt, her relationship with Alex had seen a lot of ups and downs over their year and a half together. A lot of fights, long distances, miscommunications but it never weighed them down nor their relationship. They always came back stronger after a set back as such. However such shaky career hurdles were only ever seen by Alex, writer’s block, studio pressure, album press, billboard charts, the critics it was a coin toss on fate and he’d often land on the difficult side. But he had a lot of years in the industry and a well composed mind to these things.

Maybe her issues were difficult, Hollywood is eitherways a harsher ground for women. Especially the acting industry, she was facing method acting allegations by one of her elderly costars of old fashion. Not that method acting was concept of bad light in modern day cinema but the characters of the show were very demanding maybe some bitterness towards y/n however she never paid any mind to those when it started. Even her costars all took it lightly, the method acting questions started coming up in almost all promotions, either that or her relationship. She handled that with grace too, all until the emmys. The Emmys where she won one, a shining star in the tapestry of her young career. Amidst her speech a stand up show host had a set organised. Seemingly she wasn’t priorly informed about it being found dumbfounded on stage. In front of everyone, the same joke of being an alleged method actor made an imprint on her first ever Emmy. Everyone present just laughed like they would through a normal set, they laughed at her, she felt like the world ended. After that function she felt increasingly uncomfortable with herself, a laughingstock. Twitter was divided like it always is, she would just focus on those who added to the joke. Witty jabs. Variety articles behind y/l/n’s Emmy fiasco.

Alex tried. Alex tried really hard, he forced screens away from her. WiFi in their house only for certain hours and he’d supervise it, weekend getaways for her almost every weekend. She just seemed to not escape it, losing her appetite even. Alex was the cook between the two of them, meals would take hours and hours for her to get it down and he would sit with her without a complaint. He loved her truly unconditionally and he was aware it was genuinely hard for her. Such smear campaign was very hard to escape. When she started having sleep issues as well he forcibly suggested therapy. Y/n truly believed she wasn’t meant for therapy, she wasn’t ’therapy audience’ and he consoled her very hard into joining it. Eventually she did and it just added to the shitshow. Apparently the therapist found her difficult to work through, it lasted barely 2 weeks and the therapist referred her to someone else. It became public and her therapist’s statement was “The most difficult patient in all of my career.” Maybe it was the amateur hour for the therapist or maybe it wasn’t meant in a better light but social media smear campaign treated it like a festival.

As weeks progressed everything else seemed increasingly difficult. Especially Alex. Seeing his life, his new normal which would start and end with her well being and nothing would change with her mental state either. Alex was giving out so much of himself yet she couldn’t find it in herself to actually smile even. That guilt was worse than everything else. She let that guilt consume her for a while until she finally decided to do something about it.

That evening, after dinner she finally put a stone on her heart and decided to lay that conversation to him. Guiding him to sit across her on the sofa of their shared place she took his hands into hers “Alex, no one else has stood by me the way you have, these two whole months. It’s the worst thing that’s happened to me perhaps ever and you’ve been with me through it. Just how the cliches say it-like my rock.” She said patiently “I feel like I’m not making any progress but if it weren’t for you I would’ve been at a worse place and” she took in a shaky breath before continuing a long pause following something Alex had no idea of.

“Just how you’ve been around for me.” He said holding her hands in his right her “And what we are isn’t for cliches or for saying y/n, I love you and despite of you being at your lowest as long as I have you, I have all I need. We’ve had rough patches before we’ve been alright and we will be even-“

“Just…just let me finish yeah?” Y/n interrupted him looking down their hands because looking into his eyes which carried soft love was so much harder. “You’re giving away too much of yourself. You don’t see it but I do, you’ve made my well being some sort of a passion project of yours and I understand you want the best for me I really do. But I have to look out for you too, and, I feel like this isn’t fair to you. We’re not working out…we won’t.”

A very long silence followed as Alex stared at her comprehending that, “what?” he huffed in denial “what do you mean?” He asked as if it would change what she meant.

“Alex…” she brought his hands closer to her “you need to do better in life, better than this. You have so much potential to give out, into yourself, into your career and you’ve spent so much on me already. I can’t keep you for me like this…we should…part.”

“I am passionate about you what do you mean passion project? I am in love with you and I want to help you. Just how you’d help me don’t you see it? So you don't get to decide that for me and my potential. It’s mine.” Alex stated firmly.

“Exactly. It’s yours! You’re pouring it all out into me—you’re draining yourself-“

“None of that is for you to decide!” Alex stopped her sentence midway leaving her hands out of his to run his hands through his hair out of frustration.

“Fine…” y/n seemed bad with confrontation and she didn’t want to paint herself out to be a bad lover in his history books years from now but she didn’t know how else to not do that. He was hurting unknowingly. “But this is for me to decide and I have. W-we need to..” she couldn’t even find it in herself to finish that sentence. “Break up.”

“No.” Alex stated so casually like she just asked her a very simple question, as if it was a question. “No we do not. We don’t need to do any such thing.”

“Alex…” she sighed looking away, his denial was breaking her heart. Tears formulated her eyes as she thought about how much this will hurt him.

“What Alex? No: I’m refusing.” He shrugged, very nonchalantly shrugging. Declining her wish as he didn’t even look at her.

“Alex please” she said as she gently cupped his face to look at her, “you don’t realise this…you have been putting yourself through so much for me. This-this is difficult I know, but you’ll be better after this.”

“Y/n, listen to me” he shifted in his seat to face her. “You don’t get to decide this for me. You are going through a tough time and I will not leave you.”

“You haven’t written a piece in two months..you don’t even go to the studio. You barely leave me alone to work with anything else!” She pointed out, all these bits of his habits were vanishing out and she had noticed it all. Being an early riser he’d go for a run around the block but nowadays he’d just time how many hours she had slept because of her issues. Time her vitamins and supplements. Plan things with her and only her as if he wasn’t supposed to have a life of his own.

“I have a writer’s block!” He exclaimed growing increasingly hurt and frustrated that this is how she viewed him helping her. She sounded like a burden to herself but he had never considered one to himself and he hated that she felt that way.

“Because you’re so occupied with me!” She exclaimed back with a sigh rubbing her eyes and looked away, uncrossing her legs on the couch.

“That’s just your assumption y/n you don’t know how my process works and you shouldn’t come to conclusions about things you don’t know.” Alex tried to reason with her even if she was right he couldn’t care less. She was important to him and she needed his full attention.

“Could you please just listen to me Alex…I don’t want to stay within this-“ y/n replied trying to find the right words.

“With me. You don’t want to stay with me.” He rephrased her sentence giving it to her as raw as he fathomed.

“Yes.” Taking in a deep breath she finally let it out because he wasn’t listening to her without brutal honesty. “Yes I don’t.”

“That just isn’t true-that’s not right you’re too tired today that’s all.” Alex replied, he wanted to point it maybe she was also hungry but he kept that for more persuasion.

“Alex, please.” Y/n breathed taking her head in her hands because none of her reasonings got into her head.

He just shook his head in response as the silence weighed heavy between the two of them. Tears streamed down her face as they sat there, Alex was more fine with this tension than he was with being without her. “We just can’t…y/n.” Alex said.

“I’m really sorry” she said as she looked back up at him teary eyed. The tears seemingly made everything difficult for sure. “It’s going to be alright…” she wiped her tears and looked away again. His sad gaze was so gutting to look at and talk at the same time it felt like it would stick with her, hauntingly, even after she leaves.

“But it’s alright already” He urged shifting closer to her and wrapping an arm around her trying to meet her eyes but she kept her gaze fixated at the coffee table.

“That’s what you want to think” she said softly with a heavy heart. “I don’t want to do this either Alex…it’s for the best.”

If it were for the best he wouldn’t be feeling his heart sink lower and his breath shortening. His vision becoming fuzzy already as tears brimmed in his eyes as well. But he wanted to handle this more delicately. “It isn’t, you know it isn’t.” He sniffled. “This isn’t what I want and I know it’s not what you want either, why do you feel this way? This need to run?”

“I’m not running Alex” I’m setting you free, she didn’t say out loud “I’ve been thinking about this a lot and…and this is going to hurt. It will hurt for a while but you’ll get over it.”

“Get over you? Y/n I don’t plan on leaving you” he said still drowning in denial. Stern denial and blind faith he could fix this mess, if he talked to her more. He could fix this mess, if he asked her sleep on it. He could fix this mess, if he held her closer. So he did. “Y/n look at me, look at me.” He forced her to face him. “This isn’t a rational solution. You are going through so much and you are thinking too much but this is a mistake. What we have is bigger than our problems-“

“Alex.” She stopped him midway, staring into his teary eyes with hers the same “This is my problem. You try to make to make it ours, helping me through it is one thing but this is taking up too much effort and energy in your life don’t you get that?”

Alex had never felt this defeated all his life. No reasoning seemed to get to him. He couldn’t digest that she let such thoughts mature for about a week and never once preferred to talk to him about it but just became sure about it. When the fact that she felt so distant from him to not even bring it up brought him to flowing tears. Taking his face into his hands he cried. Breaking down, y/n never saw him like this and she had seen him go through supposedly tougher situations. “You can’t do this to me” he said, his voice parched and eyes red.

The thought of leaving the next day in the morning, sleeping in different bedrooms and hugging him a goodbye at breakfast was so done now. If she didn’t leave now she won’t be able to love ever. Just holding his face in her hands as her tears streamed down her face reciprocating his. She couldn’t even muster the courage to mouth a sorry. She glanced away at her keys and wallet by the side table. It hit her like a truck when she realised there won’t be a goodbye tomorrow but today. This very moment. She slowly got her car keys and wallet and put them on her side. “It’s going to be okay…” she said sighing. Cupping his face in her hands as he reciprocated the action holding her hands and staring into her eyes.

“No it’s not” he replied with heavy grief laced in his voice. Why wouldn’t she do anything to change this? Why would she let it be this way? He felt helpless to how she firm she was about this. He placed his lips onto hers holding her closer by her waist as she cradled his face. It time were to stop he’d prefer death over letting her go. As they kissed he realised how temporary this moment will be and how this memory will bite him with sharp teeth of yearning. He couldn’t stomach the thought that she would be a memory. Visit him in nostalgia and come up in conversations and that would be all?

Eventually she pulled away from their kiss, wiping his tears with her hands as her own surfaced her face too. His dreary eyes had such an effect upon she couldn’t bare it and she softly kissed him again. His hands would still not let her go. As moments passed in holding each other and the kisses broke she realised it was time. “Goodbye, Alex.” She spoke with a voice barely above whisper because the sound of her voice breaking was louder.

His eyes widened as he realised she was leaving, now. He had barely come to terms with the fact that she was leaving. He held her hand back as she tried standing up. “You’re leaving?” His voice broke as he asked that. Y/n didn’t have it in herself to answer him what he already knew she just looked at him apologetically. Apology she knew she didn’t deserve at this very moment. “You can’t just leave right now-think about this. Sleep on it, if you still want to go leave next week?”

His negotiations seemed to know no bounds and the bargain was to get him nowhere. It would probably make him worse if she stayed. If she stayed after this. “Alex-“

“You can’t even drive in this state y/n absolutely not-if you want a break from me we could just sleep in separate bedrooms I won’t bother you-“ he tried to come up with all possible alternatives.

Her heart sank further realising how further he'd go just to make her stay. It solidified her decision of her leaving because he would always chose her above himself, even at the expense of himself hurting. She had to love him enough to let him go. “Alex…” she breathed stopping him midway “I have to.” Shaking her head she stood up to leave but didn’t see him stand up at the corner of her eyes. Somewhat relived it wouldn’t be harder to walk out that door perhaps. As she clutched her keys and wallet she felt a tug at her leg.

Looking behind to see Alex on his knees for her, it was perhaps the worst sight ever her tears reciprocating his again before he even spoke. “Y/n I beg of you please don’t go” he said as he wrapped his arms around her legs, on his knees weeping for her.

Trying to remain balanced on her footing against his grip, “don’t do this” she pleaded as her voice broke and she knelt to his level. “Please don’t make this harder.” She cried choking on her words and held his hands. Alex held her hands back very tightly.

“It doesn’t have to be hard at all” he spoke through tears as she sat close to him he brought her closer naturally settling onto his lap. As she cried and wiped his tears more just streamed down his face, “We can make it out of this y/n please, trust me please have some faith in us”

The desperation in his voice, the tears and his words it was all so gutting. This would me one of those moments she would perhaps never recover from. If she ever finds happiness again she felt like it would be at the expense of this, it would be hard for him. Very hard, but he would do so much better if she left. It was evident how much he was willing to give even to the last moment, it was concerning. “You can’t love someone this hard” y/n held his face in her hands and told him sternly “I am very miserable and I’m bringing you the same pain-over and over. This is it Alex. You won’t hurt again at the hands of me and I’m sorry it is this way…” she told him. He had no words but tears to shed. He sat absolutely defeated with her entangled in his arms. Neither he said anything nor did she.

Y/n held him back wrapping her arms around him giving him a hug or maybe hiding his teary face from herself and likewise. Rubbing his back as she hugged him sitting upon his lap. He buried his face by her neck holding her close. If the world were to end he wouldn’t care because it already did for him. The thought that this was probably the last time she would be in his arms like this made his agony worsen.

They just held each other for almost a whole hour, her head resting by his chest as they sat intertwined. The silent and slow understanding of the end. Some picture frames on the coffee table and the wall ahead, somewhat blurry because of the tears, those memories came back so much clearer. There will be no more and these will just remain pictures. Alex let out a shudder of a breath at that thought. “Where will you go?” He asked her in a tone just above a whisper.

“To my dad’s.” She replied softly without looking back up at him nor attempting to shift away from his grip. Last of his warmth. Theirs.

“He was just starting to like me…” he spoke as a soft chuckle escaped him through the tears and y/n’s followed. He would often joke with her that her dad ‘hated him’ because he was rather stern to him and she would always tell him otherwise. In truth he may be but what did it all matter now? He looked down at her in his arms when she let out a little laugh too but then quivering, broke down in his arms. He kissed the top of her head with silent consoling and holding her with the last of his love she’d let him give her.

The night wouldn’t last forever just like them and she finally left. With much courage and a heavy heart out of his arms and then their shared place. Alex couldn’t watch her leave and he did not. The last glimpse he caught of her face before he kissed the top of her head. He would think back to this for a long while and he wanted to remember her beautiful face and not her leaving him. She left and the door shut, on their house and their life together.

A job is a job. However excruciating and beaten down, it finds you on your face but you’re bound to return. Y/n did as well. Over half a year, she started working again. Lived with her dad to make a comeback to the one place that would have ever even after everything. Her career made a turn eventually the Twitter smear campaigns wear themselves out. Talent comes through in Hollywood despite its vice like grip over its finest stars. Y/n’s project worked out, she avoided the award season despite being nominated but she did walk promotional red carpet for her new project. Time heals.

Time is subjected to heal everything even with some ignited hatred if that be to overcome the hurt. Alex, he grew to despise y/n. The first few months hurt so much, everywhere in the house he’d find his things even after she collected them. There were pieces of her everywhere. Their pictures were what hurt the least. Even after he moved out of the place whose sunrise constantly reminded of her absence of his arm. He kept finding her things everywhere. The longing could surround him for long until he turned all of that sadness into a harsher emotion. It was difficult to teach himself to decline her thoughts, hate her. But he did and that’s when he wasn’t as sad.

When the devil can’t reach you it keeps you on Alex turner’s bad side. Or perhaps send you to him. Just as now, y/n was doing her friend of years, Richard, a favour. Moreover Richard pleaded and begged her to do so. He was making a music video for the arctic monkeys and the studio’s PR team members wanted y/n specially or pull the cord of the entire project. Since her career was booming it would be perfect publicity for the upcoming single and her history with Alex. Y/n would rather not indulge in such at all, especially with Alex. Richard assured her that Alex wouldn’t even be on the set for the music video and it was set in Ireland’s grasslands. Too far for Alex to attend anyways since he wasn’t in the music video.

First day on set after she lands there y/n finds herself treated with warmth with the core team. The operator, the camera team, the crew most of them were faces she’d previously known. Everyone ‘glad’ to see her working again was a comment she was irked with for a while ever since she’d returned to working. They always said it in a comforting tone as if she’d was coming back from jail or so, such patient like sympathy was difficult but not anymore. Very comfortably used to it. Superficial condolences in the best way perhaps.

“Missed you fuckface!” She laughed as she hugged Richard on the set and he joined along. Hugging her back, they’d met after a long while.

“I did too, you jerk.” He laughed and ruffled her hair a bit, she nudged away in response and their inside jokes kept ongoing. Through the conversations it swayed back to being on set and Richard worked her through the video.

“This place is so remote I’m so glad you agreed because nobody else would’ve come this far and Alex wanted just you.” Richard mentioned as he talked her through the cinematic of it.

“Wait, Alex did?” Y/n asked furrowing her brows together. Richard had stated to her that Alex wouldn’t be there at all so him wanting her for the video, ‘just her’ was somewhat unbelievable.

“The record did…it’s kind of the same thing.” Richard replied.

“It’s not” she shrugged given she knew the context conversations between Alex and the record from when they were together. “I’m just so glad he’s not here”

“He’s not a bad person you know” Richard accounted for him thinking the breakup was his fault given how rigid y/n was not wanting to sign up for an AM project.

“Oh no of course not” he’s an angel, she didn’t say out loud. Alex kept whatever happened between them through the break up private. He didn’t even paint her out like someone who wronged him to their mutual friends, when he could’ve done so.

“Then why do you have such a problem with him being here?” Richard asked with voice laced of confusion and curiosity.

“I don’t have a problem just too much-“ drama? Bad memories? Good memories? Regret? All too much perhaps.

“Well that’s great then because he might be here.” Richard spoke hurriedly despite his promise he was just making the video he couldn’t dictate who could and could not be on set. Especially not the lead singer.

“What? What do you mean?” She asked with a dejected scoff, she believed him when he’d promised that Alex won’t be on set. “What do you mean here Richard you told me-“

“I mean here as in he may be around but he’s here for now-“ Richard fumbled with his words mentally preparing for the telling off y/n would inflict on him soon enough.

“Here as in?” She asked raising sharp brow at him crossing her arms.

“As in Ireland…” Richard trailed off and took a cue to hastily add the next information as she took in a sharp breath “Could also be on set”

“On set?!” She exclaimed “right now?”

“I’m not sure okay I don’t know-the video script had some changes and he was needed for some pretext or something. Also, y/n. He’s written this song, it’s his band—I can’t just say no to him if he wants to be on set.” Richard explained. The bickering went on back and forth for a while until a voice from behind broke them.

“Richard!” Alex exclaimed as he paced up to the man, all colour drained and also made her flustered when the air shifted with Alex’s hasty walk to Richard who she stood right beside. Alex greeted Richard with a hug. “This is a beautiful location, fantastic work yeah?”

“Ah thanks mate.” Richard said with a smile as they made a small talk about the set and think pieces. He tried to include y/n in the conversation too but Alex didn’t once look to the side as if she wasn’t even present there. Richard talked about some of the crew to Alex and then, wanting to relay it slowly. “And y/n, you know her of course”

“Right yeah” Alex scoffed and made a somewhat bothered expression, irritated in an instant. He did so as if she truly wasn’t present there. Intimidatingly he stood with his hands on his waist, leather jacket, the classic Alex. Soon enough without casting her as much as a glance he took his leave from the conversation.

She wasn’t ready for this conversation, not that it was a conversation at all. Y/n’s little ‘hi there’ was blatantly ignored by him too but it was all expected. She had planned to not cross paths with him but hypothetically after all that went down she had anticipated him being cold like this. She wasn’t mentally prepared for it, not today. However she didn’t hold it against him by all means he had the right to act this way. Even if she wanted to be somewhat offended by his harshness his pleading face, desperate tone, begging her not to leave on his knees all of it just came flooding back to sink her in regret. If the roles were reversed she would want to be far away from Alex and that’s what she would grant him. Keep her distance.

“So…” Richard trailed off pulling her out of her train of thoughts to talk about the unsolicited harshness. To an outsider, the breakup had been almost 6 months ago and neither of them made any big grievances about it so it was all very odd.

“Don’t.” Y/n shook her head not willing to go into this discourse.

I’ll do a few parts to this series let me know if you want to be tagged ;)

Comments and thoughts will be so so so very appreciated please please please let me know

#alex turner x y/n #alex turner x reader #alex turner x reader fluff #alex turner x you #alex turner x fem!reader #alex turner x famous reader #Alex turner x reader angst #alex turner imagine #alex turner fanfic #alex turner

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atticssmellgood · 2 months

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‘Cause You’re Not Home (You’re Never Home)

Alex Turner x GN!reader(no specific pronouns used)

Summary: He’s been acting distant lately

Word count: 2.1k

Contains: Angst, hurt/comfort, cursing

A/N: This is a request from forever ago that I just now got an idea for. I may or may not have shed a few tears while writing it🥰 this is my first time writing angst in a romantic setting be nice please🙏

(Title is from Bratty B by Best Coast)

Tossing and turning never seemed to quell the pit of anxiety that was continuing to build little by little each night. Nor did it make the bed feel any less cold and empty as you laid in it.

It was easy enough for the first couple weeks to accept Alex’s behavior as apart of his job. Hell, you knew exactly what you were getting into when you married someone in the music industry. But as days and nights stretched by and you saw your husband less and less, something deep in you stirred. A sense of loneliness, maybe? Or perhaps it was insecurity, fear that he had gotten tired of you.

Either way, it kept your mind racing and your eyes wide open.

You sat up in bed, running a frustrated hand through your hair as you stared at the adjacent wall.

Your gaze turned to land on the phone resting atop the bedside table, charging.

Maybe he sent a text?

That sliver of hope escapes you as the phone screen lights up and displays nothing but the time, alongside a picture of you smiling as Alex pressed a kiss to your cheek.

You stare at the photo until the screen goes black, shrouding you in darkness once more.

Something aches in your chest as you glance at his side of the bed. The lack of him leaving you feeling cold.

But the feeling is quickly replaced by surprise as you hear the front door to the house open, the floorboards creaking under Alex’s familiar steps.

After a moment of contemplation, you find yourself quietly exiting the bedroom and making your way downstairs. You stop when you reach the bottom and see a very disheveled Alex.

His slight swaying indicates an air of inebriation, and his eyes convey a sort of mental exhaustion too heavy to hide.

“Love…?” You speak, breaking the settled silence like throwing something into still water.

His head immediately jerks up, surprise flickering across his features before being blanketed by a stoic expression. He turns away.

“You’re up late.” His voice is blank. It’s more of an observation or a statement rather than any sort of question.

The anxiety you feel is replaced by a sort of angry sadness. The two mixed together made for a nauseating combination.

“Where have you been?” You’re a little firm in your words, approaching to stand beside him. He smells of alcohol and doesn’t meet your eyes.

“Out. The studio session ran late.”

You feel your emotions bubble up at that. He didn’t even try to come up with something convincing.

“Don’t lie. You smell like alcohol, you’re swaying…” You cross your arms. “And I sincerely doubt that they would keep you until three in the morning, Alex.”

Alex clenched his jaw, his eyes finally turning to meet yours. What was found in them was unsettling. Ugly.

“Why are you so concerned about where I’ve been?” He snapped “I’m home. That’s the only thing that matters.”

You were taken aback for a moment before your frustration built.

“You have no right to talk to me like that. I’m just trying to figure out why the hell you’ve been coming home so late for the past couple weeks.”

Alex sneered, running a stressed hand through his already tousled hair. “God, can you leave me alone for five seconds??”

Your jaw clenched. “You’ve barely talked to me in days.”

“I know. It’s been bliss without your constant nagging.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

You shoot the question at him, your anger only growing.

Then, it was almost like something in him gave way as he sneered.

“Me? What’s wrong with me??” He laughed, but there was no humor or lightheartedness to be found as he turned to face you fully, pointing at your chest.

“You don’t know shit. All you do is cling to me every second of every fucking day, and you expect me to not want a little space???” He scoffed.

You can feel a small fracture in your chest as he berates you, your anger diminishing ever so slightly.

…have you really been too clingy?

You shrink into yourself a little, swallowing as you avert your gaze to the bouquet of flowers he had gotten you last month sporadically.

You put them in a vase on the kitchen counter, but now their once vibrant colors were pushed out to make way for the darker ones that came with death.

Alex continued to ramble on at you.

“I’m gone for one hour and I look on my phone to see a dozen missed calls from you. Can you not just fucking trust me for once? Is it really that hard?”

You feel your anger come back at full force when he says that, the rage bubbling up before you could suppress it.

“I’m just worried about you!” Your voice raises, and that’s what sets everything in motion.

“You’re treating me like a goddamn child!”

“Well maybe I wouldn’t if you weren’t acting like one!”

“Maybe if you stopped hovering over me I wouldn’t need to be so distant!”

The yelling between the two of you continued, only growing louder until Alex said something that made both of you stop.

“God, I can’t believe I married you!”

The room fell eerily silent after that.

Alex’s face was one of shock, as if he had only overheard the argument you were having rather than participated in it.

His words eventually processed, and you felt your heart drop. Your anger dissipated, leaving only a harsh pain in your chest.

Your fears weren’t supposed to come true. They were supposed to be silly, insignificant things that were only the result of insecurities or passing anxious thoughts.

The wedding ring on your finger suddenly felt like it weighed ten tons as you stared at each other.

The one who breaks the silence is Alex, stepping forward a little, reaching over but stopping just short, as if he were scared he’d get burned.

“Love, I didn’t mean…”

“It’s alright.” You murmur, swallowing. It was far from alright.

The tension was so thick it almost anchored time in its place.

You wanted to be anywhere but here, with Alex staring at him silently. Like he was begging for something.

“…I think I should get some sleep.” You don’t look at him. “I have to get up for work in the morning.”

————

Those were the last words you had spoken to him in the past several hours.

Alex was close to ripping his hair out because of his own stupidity, his mind and body filled with nothing but pure guilt as he thought about his words.

The look on your face was still fresh in his mind, plaguing him with a certain clarity he wish he could erase.

What was wrong with him?

The issue wasn’t you. It was never you. It never would be you.

His old habits had come back to haunt him after they wrapped up the tour. Right before this whole ordeal started.

The adrenaline had worn off, leaving Alex with nothing but a shell of himself.

A costume with nothing underneath.

The persona he projected to everyone else was something he’d grown used to. And yet it wasn’t him.

He hated himself for it.

Hated the fears and insecurities he harbored.

Hated that he didn’t feel like the man he was underneath all the leather and hair gel was enough.

Not for anyone.

And especially not for you.

Drinking was something he fell back on. He was too scared to admit to you this growing pit of emptiness he felt every time he looked in the mirror. Too scared of your reaction.

It hadn’t been his intention to push you away and shut you out, but he had done so regardless, inadvertently proving himself right.

You were too good for him.

But maybe this was the eye-opener he needed in order to mend the rift between the two of you. The little shove to make him realize that he was the one damaging things.

And that’s what led to the moment you were at now.

Work had been horrible that day, and it was even worse when the scene from the night before was replaying in your head on a constant loop.

But you weren’t expecting the smell of food to greet you as you walked in the door.

Only when you realized someone else might be in the house did you look up to see who it could’ve been.

Alex stood in the middle of the room, rather stiffly, holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers in one hand while the other held what looked like a vinyl record.

You close the door behind you and Alex’s throat bobbed as he swallowed.

You’re not sure what to say, and it’s silent until he tentatively makes his way to you, his footsteps the only sound.

He holds out the flowers to you as he stops and you take them after a small moment of hesitation.

He hands you the record as well. A special edition of your favorite album.

You look down at the gifts in your hands, your expression softening to an almost sad state. You look up to speak, but Alex beats you to it.

“I’m so sorry.” His voice is soft and gentle. A direct contrast to the anger it held last night.

He averts his eyes a little, gathering his words before looking back into your eyes.

“I know a few gifts isn’t going to make what I did or what I said go away, but…” he clenches his jaw in nervousness, but he does his best to look right at you as he speaks.

“None of those words I said last night were true. I was drunk, and angry at myself, and being a complete and utter asshole.”

“I didn’t mean to shut you out, or make it seem like I didn’t care about you. I just…”

Alex let out a shaky breath, finally letting his real feelings slip.

“I’m so afraid that I’m not enough.” He looked away finally, his voice wavering.

“That what’s underneath this rockstar persona I’ve created for myself isn’t what you want.”

“I’ve been avoiding you because I-…I’m so utterly terrified you’re going to get tired of me. Get bored of what I really am rather than the mask I wear on stage.”

He didn’t realize when tears started to pool in his waterline.

“I know I’m not good enough for you, but please know that I love you more than anything and…”

Alex trailed off, words stuck in his throat as his eyes fluttered. A few tears dripped from his lashes. He couldn’t bear to look at you.

The last thing he expected was for two warm hands to cup his face, thumbs wiping at his teary eyes.

There was silence. He didn’t dare look up.

“Alex.” Your voice was softer than it had ever been

“Look at me.”

He took a small breath, sniffling slightly as he finally gained the courage.

When his gaze met yours, he was sure he was going to be met with a look of disgust or hatred. Maybe even a laugh at the stupidity of his insecurities.

Instead, all he saw was gentle understanding.

You stroked his cheeks with your thumbs, the presents once in your hands now lying on the floor next to your feet.

You took a moment to gather your words, looking into the chocolate brown eyes you loved so much. The same ones that were now filled with tears and searching your own for some sort of answer to his confession.

You took a deep breath.

“Alex..” you tilted your head, holding his gaze.

“I fell in love with you.” Your voice was firm but still covered in a tenderness you could only ever muster when it came to him. “Not some silly costume you put on for a concert.”

“My Alex is the only one I’ll ever need, and he will always be enough.”

Alex’s heart ached as he let your words sink in.

Tears began to fall faster as the entire month’s worth of pent up emotion came spilling out.

Without another word, he pulled you into his arms tight, burying his face in your hair and holding you as if you’d suddenly disappear.

Somehow, you were willing to forgive him for hurting you. For saying awful things when you had done nothing but care for him.

Somehow, you seemed to love him for what he hid deep down. What he was afraid to show anyone else.

And somehow…

He believed every word you spoke.

#alex turner imagine #alex turner fanfic #alex turner x reader #arctic monkeys x reader #arctic monkeys #angst #hurt/comfort #alex turner #alex turner fic

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doctor-dusk · 27 days

Text

𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬 | 𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐱 𝐭.

a private session, as he said.

warnings: mutual masturbation, fingering (f receiving), exhibitionism and voyeurism.

word count: 3.4k

part 1, part 2

it took me longer than expected. ngl that i've been feeling a bit discouraged and insecure about my writing lately and i've been putting off posting. anyway, hope you like it :3

you haven't stopped talking for a minute since alex got your phone number. like, for hours, going into the early hours of the morning sometimes.

you found out he lived a few minutes away from you and was a bartender at a night pub, so eventually he had to be absent when he was on his shift. of course you understood, but you couldn't help but miss talking to him when he was away for too long, especially at night. you found yourself looking at his profile picture, or at the photos he sent you throughout the days.

obviously, at this point you already had a certain level of intimacy, so he didn't see a problem in sending you some kind of spicy photos, for example, after the shower. oh, these were your favorites. you loved his toned muscles glistening with water, the fluffy towel wrapping around his waist, the marked v line. and of course, you loved seeing the outline of his cock in the towel.

a was a tuesday night. particularly rainy, the wind was not violent and the news reported that it could last until the next day, but that doesn't bother you. you were reading a book peacefully on your bed when you felt your cell phone vibrate under your pillow.

you fumbled around the bed looking for your cell phone, reaching under your pillow to grab the phone, turning on the screen and smiling when you saw that he had sent you a message.

“hi baby, just got back home.’’ he texted you.

you smiled at the nickname. it was already natural for him to call you that, but you still found yourself giggling about it whenever he called you like that.

“did something happen?” you texted him back. he should be working now, since he had said he had a shift at the pub that night.

“the power went out at the pub because of the rain,” he explained in another message after a while. “guess i'll have to go back tomorrow to make up the hours. yay.”

you chuckled softly. it wasn't like he didn't like his job, he just found it tiring sometimes.

“what are you going to do now?” you asked him.

“well, for starters, i’m gonna take a shower and eat something.” he answered, sending another message afterwards. “but first of all take off these clothes. i'm so fucking wet.”

“hey, that's my line.” you joked, imagining he must have laughed when he read it. and he did.

“cheeky. later i'll make you wetter than i am now, what do you think?” he suggested. you bit your lip.

“i’ll wait for it.’’ you texted back, swaying your legs up and down like a teenager.

“good. i’ll call you in 30 minutes. wear something nice for me, love ;)”

you thought you were dressed appropriately for him. a cotton cropped shirt and a flared mini skirt. but you thought there's something missing. it wasn't "nice" enough for him.

you opened your closet and drawers, looking for some suggestion. you didn't even know exactly what you were looking for.

your eyes landed on your underwear drawer, remembering that you had a pair of white knee socks somewhere. you didn't know if he would like them, but knowing him well enough, you could deduce that was worth a try.

you put on the socks, the soft fabric gliding over your legs like a massage, the hem resting right above your knees. you looked at your reflection in the mirror, flexing your leg and bending your knee to see how it looked. then you turned your back, looking over your shoulder to see how it looked from this angle. it wasn't bad. it showed off your legs nicely. he might like it, but if he doesn't, he'll be polite enough to ask you to take it off.

you made sure your door was locked, turning the knob twice as a precaution. once confirmed, you jumped on your bed, grabbing your phone. as if on time, a message from him popped up on your screen.

‘’ready?’’

‘’yep.’’ you texted, settling yourself in bed, lying partially between your pillows, your back resting on the headboard, your knee bent so you could rest your phone on it.

seconds later, a video call popped up on your screen, and you answered it without delay.

oh, as always, he was handsome. unlike you, he was standing, probably walking around his apartment, the position of the camera revealed that he was holding his phone a little too low. and of course, shirtless.

‘’hey love, i- fuck, no, no! wait a minute.’’ he said before you could say anything, leaving his phone in a corner, the camera focusing on the ceiling was all you could see now. you waited for him to come back, listening for some noises and trying to figure out what it was. seconds later, he came back. ‘’sorry, i had to put the neighbor's cat out. the bastard tried to steal my last slice of pizza.’’

you laughed at what he said. you expected anything but that.

‘’how did he tried to steal your pizza?’’ you asked as he was making his way to the bedroom, turning off the lights on the way.

‘’he came in through my kitchen window. can't turn my back for a bloody second.’’ he rolled his eyes, entering his bedroom, sitting on the edge of his bed. ‘’you look lovely, baby. new necklace?’’ he pointed out. you looked at your chest, the silver necklace resting on your collarbone. you didn't even think he would notice that. but he was very observant, especially when it came to you.

‘’yeah, i bought it yesterday when i went out to shopping with my mom.’’ you answered and he hummed, his mouth was too busy eating a piece of pizza. ‘’although this isn't the necklace i was looking for.’’

‘’which one did you want?’’ he asked, his voice a little muffled as he was finishing the slice of pizza.

‘’your hand.’’ you answered him, causing him to cough almost uncontrollably because he almost choked on the piece of pizza. you would have laughed if you weren't so worried about him. “are you okay? i'm sorry, i-”

‘’no, no, i'm fine. wasn't expecting it, you can't do this to me, jesus.” he laughed after catching his breath, his face was a little red because of it. “you can't have my hand as your necklace if you choke me to death on a piece of pizza.”

“sorry, i didn't know you'd be so surprised.” you chuckled softly, watching him wipe his mouth with a napkin, throwing the paper in the trash.

“you just caught me by surprise, hon. you're not usually this forward.” he said. he was right, sometimes you were a little shy, even though you've done things that say otherwise. “by the way, are you wearing something nice like i asked you to?”

you nodded, adjusting your posture, getting into an angle so he could see your body when you stretched out your arm holding your phone in your hand, giving him a good view. he let out a low whistle, enjoying the view.

“no way, knee socks?” he asked with raised eyebrows as his eyes landed on your legs, making himself comfortable in his bed. it wasn't in a disapproving tone, by the way.

“yeah, did you like it?” you asked a little insecurely.

“hell, a lot.” he licked his lips, taking a look at you. “i have an idea, do you want to know what it is?”

you nodded eagerly. by the tone he spoke, he was certainly going to suggest something for you to do.

“take off your clothes. i want you in nothing but those knee socks. can you do that for me, love?”

the idea made your hair stand on end. you knew that eventually you would undress for him, but you didn't know that you would be so nervous about the idea and that it would be so exciting to be naked for him, wearing only a pair of white knee socks.

“you can take your time, baby. don't worry, i've got all the time in the world for you.” he reassured you, making you even more comfortable with the idea.

“shirt?” you suggested and he hummed in agreement.

“are you wearing a bra?” he asked and you shook your head. “good. i miss those nice tits of yours.”

you giggled, grabbing a pillow and placing it on the middle of the bed, positioning your phone so that it rests on it.

“is the angle okay?” you asked him, sitting with your legs spread on the bed. he could even get a small glimpse of your panties.

“amazing, baby. keep going.” he said. he didn't really care about the angle as long as he could see you and your body on full display for him on his phone screen.

you pulled your crop top up, pulling it over your head. the mere sight of your breasts on the screen made him groan, biting his lip as he palmed himself over his sweatpants, even though you couldn't see it for now.

‘’so beautiful. one day i'm going to suck those tits, mark my words.’’

you smiled at the idea. alex seemed like the kind of hungry man who could devour you if he could. and he really was. he wanted to mark you, to sink his fingers and teeth into your flesh, so that he and everyone else could see that he was the one who did this to you. he wanted to make sure everyday that you were his, that only he could see you like that and make you feel that way.

you touched your boobs, adding a little more anticipation to the moment, your nipples hardening with the mere stimulation on them, your eyes rarely looking at him on the screen, focused on losing your shyness as you touched your left breast while your right hand went down your belly.

“the skirt too?” you asked him, tracing your index finger along the waistband of your skirt.

“everything.” alex answered, a minimally authoritative tone was noticeable in his voice, but you didn't think it was bad. it turned you on even more.

you shifted in bed, your fingers hooked on the sides of your skirt, slowly pulling it down, letting the material slide down your legs, his eyes watching every move without blinking, as if he would never see something like that again in his life. his hand tightened his grip on his cock, feeling that sooner or later he would have to take it out, such was the pressure inside his boxers.

“you have beautiful legs, love.” he praised you as he drank the sight of your semi naked body, the only thing that kept him from seeing you naked were your panties and knee socks.

“thank you.” you smiled, you liked it when he complimented you, even when it was something simple. you felt desired, in a way.

“you're nervous, aren't you?” he asked. he had never seen you in person and never lived with you physically, but he knew you well enough to know that.

“god, yes. i'm sorry, i've never done that.” you mumbled, closing your legs a bit so you wouldn't feel so exposed.

“that's okay, baby, you're doing so good. take your time.” he said in a reassuring tone, not wanting you to feel insecure or embarrassed around him. “just remember that sooner or later i'm going to see this pretty pussy of yours. and believe me, i'm going to gorge myself on it.”

you chuckled awkwardly, still feeling a bit insecure. he pouted slightly.

“hey, look at me.” he asked you, he couldn't just hold your face and make you look at him, so he expected you to look back at the screen, which is what you did. “don't worry about it. we're just going to have some fun, i want you to enjoy yourself with me, hm?” he spoke calmly and patiently, knowing he needed to be careful with his words.

you smiled, nodding in response to him. he knew how to reassure you, how to make you feel safe. you were in this together, after all.

you tried opening your legs again, your hand running over the fabric of your underwear, testing the waters as he swallowed hard at your actions. you touched your sensitive bud, feeling it contract inside your panties with the touch of your fingertip.

‘’mhm, that’s it. doing so good, love.” he said, his voice almost in a whisper as he stuck his hand inside his sweatpants, squeezing his cock more directly over his boxers, his thumb ghosted over his sensitive tip, leaking precum and staining the fabric of his underwear.

he felt uncomfortable with this, shifting in bed to get his sweatpants and boxers down, freeing his cock, the angle he was lying at made the tip touch his stomach.

“you're making me hard as fuck.” he moaned in a somewhat anxious way.

“yeah? show me.” you instigated him.

fuck, you didn't even need to ask twice. he angled his phone so you could see his cock, his free hand grabbing it firmly by the base, massaging it deftly, working his way up until he reached the head, pulling back the foreskin so you could see his glistening tip practically taking over your screen.

you leaned against the headboard, supporting your body weight there while your hands were free. one hand hooked your panties, finally pulling to the side, showing him your most intimate area.

“beautiful. just like i imagined.” he bit his lip, watching your fingers firmly grip the fabric of your panties like a real hook while the fingers of your other hand roamed the skin of your crotch, teasing both you and him. “god, i can already imagine myself with my face buried in this pussy all day.”

you giggled, you loved how vocal he was. your index and middle finger wandered through your folds in an inverted 'v' position, sliding up and down your labia, feeling your digits getting wet.

“'wet?”

“so fucking wet.” you answered and he groaned. you also knew how to tease him with words, his dirty thoughts getting the best of him as he saw you touching yourself like this.

“yeah? think i can shove my cock inside you without needing lube?” he asked you, starting to pump his cock faster.

“oh, you have no idea.” you said in a sly tone, moving your hands away from there only to pull the panties down your legs, discarding them on the bed among the sheets. and you were just the way he asked, completely naked, except for the knee socks. oh, that made his cock throb.

“god, you're so fucking hot.” he hissed, pumping faster, his fist closed so tightly that his tip was getting redder and the veins were getting more visible. “touch yourself for me, love. please.”

you brought your index and middle fingers to your mouth, thinking about it. please. he never asked you “please”, not that you remember. he always asked, in a polite but authoritative tone, sounding like a gentle order. but never added the word please.

it sounded like he's begging you. and you liked it.

“please?” you repeated the word, wetting your fingers, bringing them down to your sensitive bud that was aching to be touched.

“fucking please…” he said in a desperate growl, his eyes fixed on your body as you tesed him furter, circling your fingers on your clit, the contact making you hiss. “feels good?”

“mhmm, so good…” you hummed, circling your fingers counterclockwise, the way you always did when you pleased yourself alone in that bed in your room. “i wish you were touching me right now.”

“don't say that to me or i might come out in the rain and climb in through your bedroom window just to fuck you.” he panted, making you imagine the scene, a small whimper leaving your lips.

“yeah? would you fuck me good?” you asked, moving your fingers down, teasing your wet and slick entrance, your fingertips sliding in with ease.

“so good, baby. would you like it hard and deep?" he asked you, feeling the pleasure starting to get the best of him, he tried to hold on as much as he could.

you nodded eagerly, sliding two fingers inside your tight heat. he watched as you buried your own fingers inside your cunt until reached your knuckles, withdrawing them just to repeat the motion. nothing had ever turned him on as much as this. he felt like a teenager watching porn for the first time, but it was a thousand times better. it was real, and it was for him. only for him.

“so be it. gonna fuck you good, baby. the way you deserve it.”

his words entered your mind like a virus, your eyes squeezed shut as your fingers went back and forth, coating them with your arousal. you couldn't help but vividly imagine him fucking you hard, his hips snapping against yours, his cock filling you to the brim as he squeezed your neck, calling you his little slut who takes his cock so fucking well.

“oh my god, please…” you whimpered breathlessly, your legs starting to tremble involuntarily, your head tilting to the side.

“are you going to come for me, love? you're so close, i can see it.” he hummed, watching you nodding, his fist was hurting, but he didn't want to stop, not when he was so close too.

“yes, yes, oh alex…” you moaned his name, making him grunt in response, his breath ragged and his body trembled, he could barely concentrate on holding the phone anymore, even though he doesn't want to miss a single second of you fingering yourself, chasing your climax.

“fuck, i can't hold back…” he almost whined, and you let out a satisfied smile, so close that you're already seeing stars.

“yes, fuck me, alex…” you moaned, and that was the last straw for him. he moaned loudly, his head falling back into the pillow as he came, making a mess of his own belly and chest, but he didn't stop, even though his senses were overwhelmed at this point.

as you watched him fucking his own fist through his orgasm and heard his whimpers, you followed him suit, cumming on your fingers, your free hand covered your mouth so you wouldn't moan loudly as the climax hit you, your trembling legs closed automatically around your hand as your fingers pumped and curled inside you to prolong your pleasure.

in the seconds that followed, all that could be heard besides the sound of the rain outside were the panting breaths as the bodies lay completely exhausted on the respective beds. it was so intense, you couldn't remember the last time you had an orgasm that good, especially when you were touching yourself.

after a few seconds, he broke the silence.

“still there?” he asked. you gave him thumbs up and he chuckled. you needed a few more seconds to recover.

“yeah, yeah…” you mumbled, taking a deep breath through your nose and letting it out through your mouth. then, you lifted your head, looking at him. he was as broken as you were.

“it just gets better, princess. you're amazing, really.” he said. and he was sincere, you could see it. or at least he gave you enough confidence to make you think that.

“you're amazing too. you must be even better in person.” you answered him next. it was like you were having pillow talk after sex. the difference is you hadn't had sex. not yet.

“well, baby, i'll try to impress you. i have to win you over every day.” he chuckled, groaning as he saw his own mess, knowing he would have to clean himself up. “hate this part.”

“i wish i could lick you clean.” you pouted and he pouted too, chuckling at your boldness.

“you always get feisty after having your orgasm, huh?” he questioned and you giggled, picking up your panties to put them back on carefully, your legs felt like jelly.

“only with you.” you winked at him, licking your fingers as he sighed at the sight of you. he was quiet for a while, just looking at you, his mind working in different ways. “what?”

“i want to see you.” he answered after a few seconds of silence.

“you’re seeing me already.” you chuckled and he shook his head after letting out a weak laugh.

“no, i want to really see you. to meet you in person.”

oh. now that was another level.

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

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mywritingonlyfans · 1 month

Text

One For The Road. // Mentor!Alex Turner X FreshSinger!Reader (Smut) Part 1

Prompt: (Age Gap Fic;Fem!Reader) Alex is on an extended hiatus from the band and finds himself wanting to start a studio to recruit new talent. One day, he hears a voice on the radio that captivates him, so he jots down the name and, with that voice stuck in his head, searches for it on Google. When he finds you, you both decide to work together for your growth, setting off a journey filled with new melodies, issues with paparazzi and online exposure, and Alex being completely smitten with his latest discovery and love.

Words: 9,5K

A/N: The fic was planned in three chapters: before the recognition (fame), during the recognition (fame), and after the recognition (fame).

Alex felt fulfilled, both physically and emotionally; he didn’t need any additional elements to complete his sense of satisfaction. During the band's extended break, due to various factors like other members' children and James admitting that a break would be beneficial, Alex found himself contemplating new possibilities. Unable to step away from music entirely, he set up a studio and handled other bureaucratic aspects for future artists. This was his way of giving back to an industry that had been so rewarding for him.

He didn’t know much about the artist he was suddenly into, only that sabe was a young girl with a captivating presence. Alex had heard your voice in the car before visiting Miles. It had a numbing effect on him, in a good way, leaving him sitting in the parked car after arriving, gazing out the window and absorbing every word you sang as if they were drops of water in the desert. It was strange, but it was exactly what he needed.

Your voice was raw with potential but still unrefined—you were not bad, just clearly new. The lyrics were sweet and nostalgic, evoking feelings that seemed foreign yet familiar. Alex found your work mature in a way he hadn’t been when he first started making music. He couldn’t picture your face, hair, or preferred style, but your voice lingered in his mind; the breaths, pauses, sometimes resembling soft and failed sighs, were compelling.

After the song ended, he stared at the radio display, waiting for your name to be announced. He quickly grabbed a notebook to jot down before he could forget.

Alex briefly mentioned you during dinner with Miles, running his fingers through his hair absentmindedly. His friend could tell that you had affected him in some way. "Just a girl, huh? How many times have you listened to her songs, Al?" Alex was usually romantic in his descriptions, this time he swore he had been succinct—though he felt he had failed. As the visit was coming to an end, all he could think about was your voice; he had to share you with someone else.

"Not many," he admitted honestly, though it wasn’t very convincing. Miles laughed, indicating he would listen later. His friend's recommendations were always reliable.

…

Finding you on the internet wasn’t easy. Alex had written down the wrong surname, which delayed his search longer than anticipated. You had no professional recordings, and later Alex discovered that the radio segment he had heard was an exclusive broadcast for new artists. All he found were amateur videos on YouTube of you singing in some pubs, with poor audio quality that didn’t do you justice. He listened to them repeatedly over the next few days.

The videos with better resolution were watched more often, and although Alex feared it might be due to your angelic face, he tried to avoid focusing on the fact that you were younger than him–perhaps more than he could point out. Nevertheless, as he closed his eyes before sleeping, he often imagined you from the video of your channel, wearing that summer wine dress with the straps slightly falling off. He imagined gently adjusting them with his finger, smoothing your hair while your calm eyes followed him. Your head falling affectionately into the caress of his palm and a brief wet kiss to your temple as your eyelashes flutter; not that he thought he would have such an effect on you.

It was indescribable how your voice occupied his mind more than anything else. He found himself humming snippets of your lyrics in the shower, while cooking, every end of the day. When he called Miles the next weeknd, his friend knew exactly what to expect.

…

You were delicate, and the words flowed from your lips effortlessly. Indeed, the cameras, the analog look, and the audio from the YouTube recordings didn’t do justice to what it was like to experience you live. There were few people, mostly around your age, though some appeared older with their doubtful expressions. It was a pleasant environment.

He watched you from a distance, neither too far nor too close. Wearing a white collared shirt, jeans, and a brown jacket, he kept his sunglasses on even at night to avoid being easily recognized. Occasionally, he slid the glasses down his nose to get a clearer view of you without the lenses.

You held the microphone gently, as if it weighed nothing, intertwining the cord between your fingers and taking small steps across the makeshift, tiny stage. Most people were distracted, but many took a moment to watch and listen to your music. Sometimes your voice faltered, and he noticed your disappointment, but you were so endearing.

You wore white tights and a black dress with a Peter Pan collar; Alex thought it suited you perfectly. He adjusted the edges of his shirt peeking out from under his jacket, a reflex of how your fingers nervously fidgeted with the fabric of your dress on stage. He smiled sweetly, as if hoping you could see and feel encouraged by it. You were doing well.

At the end, which was marked by silence following your thanks, he began clapping, soon joined by everyone else. You tried not to look around too much, not expecting the applause, and Alex was pleased to see you so happy.

You held a glass in your hand, chatting with the guitarist. Alex could easily see himself playing guitar alongside you in that dimly lit place filled with long, whispered conversations that created an intimate atmosphere. The guitarist nudged you, indicating Alex standing in front of you. When you turned, Alex felt his palms sweating and had to hide them in his pockets. You were even more beautiful up close; your posture wasn’t perfectly straight, but he noticed your charming walk and had to avoid smiling.

Alex felt more awkward than a teenager talking to girls, and he wasn’t proud of it. You greeted him with a warm smile, and before he could say anything, he knew you were as warm as you looked. “I enjoyed your performance up there. You sing really well, and the original lyrics are great. You’re very talented.” The compliment came out smoothly because he had practiced it many times. He felt his face flush, knowing he was fully red.

You bit your lips, offering a shy smile and resting your fingers right around the edges of your dress. Alex found this to be an adorable habit of yours. If he could, he would have held your hand and provided some distraction from whatever you were thinking. You thanked him, unsure of what to do or say but sincere nonetheless. When Alex offered a drink, he noticed your hesitation, but there wasn’t anything better for you to do than share a drink with someone who, for reasons you couldn’t quite place, seemed familiar. He was being nice.

“I don’t think anyone has ever come to see me sing so well-dressed,” you said, your eyes sparkling. Alex felt that in a few hours, you’d be more comfortable around him.

Noticing your assessment of his outfit, you could tell it wasn’t cheap; the fabric of his button-up shirt was well-tailored, the collar had a unique design, and the jacket was definitely leather. Not that you knew much about such things, but you didn’t see many like that.

Alex saw you enveloping your hands and didn’t think twice before taking off his jacket and draping it over you. Fingers touched your icy skin and he wished he had noticed sooner. You didn’t resist, your expression showed that you needed it; you merely nodded in thanks. “Don’t you think you deserve it?” Alex hadn’t intended it to sound flirtatious, but he realized it as soon as the words left his mouth. You shook your head, giving a half-hearted laugh.

He considered apologizing, but you continued, “I think it’s nice to think that someone would dress up to see me here, you know? To know that you’d come to see me sing and then anticipate it throughout the day, even considering what outfit would be most suitable or comfortable. It’s kind.” You were much more eloquent than he was, your words flowed naturally.

You sighed in relief, snuggling into the leather and tucking your hands into the long sleeves. Alex felt his chest warm up. You gestured animatedly while speaking, clearly excited, and probably didn’t even notice when your knees brushed together and stayed there in a pleasant touch that made him not want to move. “Well, if it helps, I heard you on the radio the other day and wanted to see you in person.” He breathed between his words, his voice deepening with the pauses.

You nodded, brushing off the compliment, not because you disliked it but because you didn’t want to deal with it. “I like your accent; it makes you sound older than you are.” Your shoulders brushed together, casually but comfortably, a result of your restlessness. There was a brief silence as you both listened to each other’s calm breathing amidst the background noise of drinks.

Maybe the contact was what mattered; Alex hadn’t planned this poorly. Despite his struggle with succinct communication, he explained the record label project, detailing the steps and what could be done if you wanted to pursue something more professional. At some point, you stopped listening to him, your eyes wandering over his dark hair cascading in beautiful waves, the furrow between the eyebrows, his perfectly shaped mouth, and the stubble that was starting to grow. He gestured less than you did, but his large yet delicate hands made him seem like a Christmas ornament, like men in '80s movies or even a younger Al Pacino.

“I’m listening, but I wouldn’t have the money for it; I can’t even afford a guitar. I play in pubs because I can use their instruments; they don’t pay well, and sometimes it’s just beer and food.” You spoke honestly, without bitterness about how it limited your dreams. You had the purity of someone who believed it was for you. Someone bumped into your chair, causing Alex to steady it, which brought your bodies closer together. He could now distinguish the exact color of your eyes and the scent of your hair. His mouth went dry. “That’s my point; you get paid so I can help you get heard and recognized for your work.”

…

"Did you set up the record label for the girl?" Miles carried a hint of truth, though he knew it was initially Alex’s idea, and you were the final touch that made it happen.

"It’s not like that, she’s really good. You’ll meet her." Alex’s voice carried warmth and anticipation; in a few months, you’d be fully immersed in this with him.

"And does she know what’s going on in your head? Like, the reason for your soft tone and silly grin when you mention her name? I might be wrong, but it doesn’t seem like you’re just thinking of her as a musician, Alex."

He shook his head, as if Miles could see him. "It’s nothing. I just want to help her with this. Besides, I’m not at that stage; we don’t fit in the same place." The idea of putting all that into words hurt a little.

The conversation continued, as if that settled the matter, both on the call and in real life. But Miles’s final words were, "Alex, I’m sure this will hurt her more than it will hurt you; you don't deal well with reason, your feelings will get in the way.”

And though it stung, it might be true—something to consider with concern. But would it really be so bad to spend all that time with you?

…

You learned who he was and thought it might be a scam, but a simple Google search left you stunned. You clearly knew the band, just not his exact current appearance; it certainly wasn’t like in the “Cornerstone” video, but the more recent ones fit the style of a dad with a six-year-old daughter, which was pleasant. Your friends were happy for you, even if they were as incredulous as you.

“It’s quite big; will more people be coming here?” Your voice echoed through the studio, your fingertips freezing. You’d arrived a few weeks ago and had some singing lessons Alex had arranged with another professional, but from then on, you feared he would be your sole tutor.

“For now, yes, but later there’ll be more people.” You nodded, hands in the pockets of your dress. LA was hot, he was killing you with that air conditioning. He had shown you every corner, you felt quite comfortable; the place had guitars on the wall, basses, and a drum set from that inaccessible brand. You stood in front of him, looking like a lost child, genuinely waiting for what to do next. It took him a moment, but he understood.

“Okay, I didn’t plan this out too well,” he laughed softly. He mentioned having read the songs you sent, even though he had heard them before, now he knew the exact lyrics. “Is it okay if I use the equipment?” Your question was followed by the tips of your fingers touching one of the microphones and holding the headphones, waiting for his response.

“Feel free to use whatever you want, little one.” Your cheeks were warm, making you bite the bottom of them. You looked confused at the buttons; they were just buttons with no informative labels. Alex had forgotten that this was familiar only to him. “Sure, it’s a good idea to get you familiar with everything first, then we can see what to do.” It sounded like a good idea.

The time passed quickly; what took hours, with Alex, seemed like minutes. Sometimes silence would fall over you both, but it was so comfortable. He had a pleasant voice, explaining things as if they weren’t intuitive, and you could visualize them. You liked it. His hair was longer than the last time you saw him, falling into a cute fringe over his eyes, which shone brightly as he spoke and gestured. He wore a suit and a button-up shirt, making no sense given the amount of fabric he was wearing in the LA sun.

“It’s pretty heavy, Turner,” he had given you a red guitar with white detailing, the side bearing his last name. It had clearly been through some battles but was beautiful. Alex found your pronunciation of the “r” endearing, rolled on your tongue and lingering. No one called him that around; it could be your thing. The guitars you had played were lighter, less durable.

“You can play if you want. You can also make it your own; it’s a good idea to get used to a specific one for now.” You listened, wondering why you wanted him to call you “little one” again. You held the strap, looking at the floor. “I don’t know how to play,” your voice was weak, your fingers pressing the strings without making any sound. He nodded, understanding you.

“What don’t you know, little one?” His face was calm, as if it didn’t cross his mind that you might be a fraud. His body was positioned behind yours, and you felt your heart racing; you were sure he could hear it. He placed his hand on the neck of the guitar, adjusting some strings.

What happened was: you would hum melodies, your friends would map out the notes, next you had them with you.

“I only remember my songs, which are few. I memorized them with the help of some friends at the pub.” You didn’t like how that sounded. You stepped back without thinking, bumping into Alex’s firm chest. He held your waist, noticing your nervousness. You still smelled the same as before.

“There’s nothing wrong with that; no one is born knowing. I learned a lot from the first album ‘til now; we can work on that if you want.” You heard the guttural sound he made when speaking slowly in your ear, dangerously close. “Do you want to try something?” he asked, a little before plucking a small segment of one of your songs. Alex had heard it so much that he had memorized the chords. You found it strange but ignored it; controlling your breathing was more complicated.

“I don’t know, Turner,” he laughed, the pleasant nasal sound close, with his blazer rubbing against your bare arms. He took your hands in his, guiding your fingers as he wanted, explaining each string press and brief sound. It took some time, and due to your anxiety, it seemed to take longer than usual.

“It doesn’t seem to sound very good,” you impulsively turned your face to look at him. His eyes, which had been on your hands, moved to your face, and it was closer than you had experienced before. “But it will, you know?” He smiled, his slightly crooked lower teeth noticeable to you, as well as the light beard scars and age lines around his eyes. God, he was so beautiful.

“You’re doing well, lil’ one; you just need to relax and be more patient.” You felt your fingers ache, pulling your hands slightly away from Alex’s. “You trust me a lot.” He noticed the superficial cut, the tips of your fingers bruised a bit, pretty normal, and you seemed quite calm about it. “Shouldn’t you? Trust yourself? I haven’t seen anything in you so far that doesn’t show how good you are at what you do...” The sentence was lost, somewhat unformed, but you wished he would talk about you like that more often. He took your finger, drying it with the edge of his shirt, which had become slightly reddened, and pressed until it stopped. It was hard not to just look at him. Your cold hands made Alex make a mental note that you weren’t a big fan of the air conditioning or that maybe your clothes were too short and thin.

…

On the same night, before heading back to the hotel, Alex suggested you two could go out to eat together as a way to spend more time talking. Since you’d spent hours at the studio and he hadn’t thought to offer you food or water, he chose a more relaxed place, reminiscent of the pubs where he knew you performed—live music and cozy lighting.

Upon arrival, you felt the chill against your arms. Alex laughed. You hadn’t seen him take off his blazer, but you noticed his attentive gaze as he draped it over your shoulders. It was a comforting relief. “I can control the studio’s temperature, but most places ‘ere are air-conditioned; you’ll end up feeling cold,” he said. You didn’t respond, only pondering whether Alex would always have a jacket or blazer for you if you never wore one. You liked his scent on you and the respectful way he looked at you, you hated that your thoughts were not as innocent.

As you sat across from him, there was little distraction, and you knew it would be a challenging time—more accurately, a journey to be honest, regardless of what happened next. He had loosened more buttons due to the heat. The collar was pressed against his rosy skin, neck chain attached to his sweat, and his eyes were on you, making your stomach flutter. Your foot brushed against his calf under the table, you couldn’t look at him. He smiled pleasantly as usual, the distinctive nasal sound of his laugh remaining soothing, despite the feelings he stirred in you. Your foot found comfort there, resting against him; neither of you moved.

“It smells nice; what is it?” he asked before you put away your pink tube of moisturizer.

“It’s peach,” you replied, sounding a bit excited. You wanted to talk but felt that besides your music, you might not be interesting to him, even though you felt there was something desirable in that; even if you didn't see yourself that way.

“The scent is great; it makes me less tense, Turner,” you said. You took his hand in yours. They were larger and calloused—something your fingers should be. You applied a drop of cream, massaging his hand with focus on each callus and prominent vein.

The sensation was light for him (even for you); your nails brushed against his wrist with a pleasant tickle. Taking your time, you smoothed out the creases in his poorly folded shirt, rebuttoned it, and adjusted the fold to what Alex would consider the perfect height. Your touch was gentle, and there you were, right in front of him, with your shoulders covered by his blazer. He noticed the strap of your dress was a little crooked, but you were nestled in something warm. Alex cherished everything about that realistic snapshot.

When you finished, you noticed his attention was on your face. You smiled slightly, as did he. You were in complete silence, yet every minute counted.

The food arrived shortly, and you didn’t need to question it. He simply whispered a “thank you, little one” to you as you curled into his blazer a bit more. He was hoping it would carry your scent by the end of the night.

The atmosphere remained the same—you both enjoyed each other's company, evident in the unspoken comfort between you. The air felt light in your lungs, yet breathing was easy and relaxed. Alex wasn't particularly hungry, but seeing your bright eyes and inevitable smile with every bite you took, he couldn't help savoring his food as well. You made him feel good; he realized just how true that was.

He gently brushed the corner of your mouth with his clean thumb, wiping away a small smudge. You followed his movement intently, reflexively cleaning the spot afterward. For a brief moment, Alex considered bringing his thumb to his lips out of instinct, but quickly caught himself, realizing the weight of the gesture, and instead wiped it off with a napkin. He thought about apologizing, but feared it would make things awkward.

However, you continued to look at him, your face full of color, the atmosphere just as comfortable and inviting as before. It wasn't a mistake for you; you liked the tingling sensation his touch left on your skin.

…

The weeks passed effortlessly; neither of you avoided the other. Occasionally, you both made your way down from your rooms together for dinner at the hotel restaurant or to have a drink. Conversations came easily. At first, Alex felt uneasy about how you didn’t smoke during routine activities, which made him uncomfortable for not being able to cut back on the habit himself. However, over time, he grew used to it and eventually stopped smoking around you, finding that he missed it less.

Sometimes, nights at the studio would deliberately stretch late, with Alex fine-tuning guitars that didn’t really need it or you attempting to replicate familiar songs on the drums, under the guise of practice. The truth was, even though you both knew you didn’t truly need each other, you still made an effort to be close to one another, whether in quiet moments or during busier times.

"Y’know, oldie. We moved it all online…” You mentioned it when you opened your eyes and noticed Alex annoyed by the droplets from his hair dripping onto his newspaper.

You couldn't pinpoint where the idea came from, but you understood his priority in not overwhelming you—imagining how a poor work dynamic could fall into the hands of bad journalists. In the end, that led you both to the beach, enjoying the refreshing breeze that made the sun less intense.

Your comment drove him to give up on the newspaper and just look at you. He couldn't look at you casually or quickly, he was getting used to that. Behind his sunglasses and cap, he felt like he was taking advantage by noticing the thin strap of your bikini and the ties and lace that drove him to think of other pieces. He took a deep breath, sinking into the lounge chair, like in romantic comedies that end well. You brushed your knee against his, drawing his attention back to you (yes, you were sharing the only remaining chair meant for couples—neither of you even knew such a thing existed).

Alex quickly realized he was blushing, feeling the heat in his cheeks when he got you had noticed him staring at you. "Do you need sunscreen? I didn't see you apply any yet," you asked, getting ready for your second layer, while Alex hadn’t put on any. "How disgraceful, Turner. You hardly seem like an older man." He rolled his eyes at your amusement.

His hair was tousled by the wind. His face had a radiant glow at you. You put some of it in his hand, and he began to apply it to his sun-kissed cheeks and nose, a bit of it smudging into his hair. You couldn’t help but laugh at the scene, his clumsy hands more likely to smear than spread the lotion properly. "Alright, Tur, let me handle this." You moved closer, your cool fingertips touching his skin and discarding the sunglasses. He caught the scent of peach as it drifted on the breeze, smiling softly as you smiled at him. Your gentle touch grazed his cheeks, finding comfort in the rough texture of his beard, which made you scrunch your nose in a playful smile that turned into a quiet laugh. Letting himself relax, Alex closed his eyes as you smoothed the excess lotion onto his neck. He wished he didn’t enjoy that closeness, but he did, and he had no intention of denying it.

You cleaned the stray strands of hair and lightly traced your thumb up the bridge of his nose, pausing briefly between his eyebrows. Alex sighed in contentment, his lips parting slightly, you felt even more at ease. Before he could open his eyes, you stepped back, slathering more sunscreen into your hands, then pressed your palms against his soft shoulders and just above his chest. He gave you a funny look, but before anything else could happen, you pulled away. "Rub it in," you instructed, noting his slight confusion. "And turn around. I'm going to apply it on your back." Touching his warm, velvety skin felt therapeutic. He shared that same sentiment. Was this how cats felt when they kneaded with their paws? It was just as comforting.

Alex felt the same when his fingers touched your back in return. The silence weighed on him, with only the pulsing of his veins echoing in his ears. Yet, you smiled peacefully, eyes closed and lower lip caught between your teeth as you lay on your stomach. He massaged your skin with sunscreen, convinced that this was a laborious task. Your muscles relaxed under his touch, and he noticed a foolish smile creeping onto his lips.

He gently moved the delicate strap of your bikini aside, making sure to cover every inch, no matter how thin the material was. His palm brushed your hair away from the nape of your neck, and for a long moment, he imagined kissing your sensitive skin, hearing your sighs at a playful bite, letting out the repetitive thoughts that were always about you stuck in his mind. He had memorized your scent, longed to immerse himself in you until your peaches became his, something only he could experience–no one else, not even the stupid boys your age (especially them). He followed the same ritual on your neck, sighing to himself as he acknowledged how addictive your skin was there; you were highly addicted.

"Wait a minute," you murmured, your words drawn out and languid, almost like failed moans that would fade into silence. Your delicate fingers fumbled with his as you pulled the bikini string down, revealing more of your skin, though not in an obscene way. Even though his gaze was heavy in a way that it wasn't entirely clear. Soon, the piece was no longer there, but the view was limited by the way you were lying.

Understanding his place, he lightly rubbed sunscreen over the exposed area, subtly moving down your waist and barely grazing your hips. He felt as if he were touching porcelain, afraid that any poorly thought-out movement might shatter you. He gave your flesh a final gentle squeeze, and your abdomen contracted at the loss, accompanied by a soft murmur. Returning to his position, Alex chuckled to himself as he noticed how you kept your head closer to the towel you used as a pillow, your body not moving a single millimeter. It was then that he realized the process had taken longer than expected, you had fallen asleep.

He pulled his cap down over his face, a bit embarrassed, even though you couldn't see him. Adjusting his sunglasses back in place, he quietly watched you, taking in your calm breathing and relaxed posture. He took his own shirt, wrapping it over you, deciding that you had been in the sun long enough. He didn't touch you, knowing you were still asleep, but couldn't resist briefly brushing his fingertips against his lips and gently moving the strands of hair that covered your face. His gaze sharpened instinctively, and while he knew how to handle it if he were alone, you didn't deserve that side of his life.

It was quick—just a fleeting moment, a feeling of being watched, though he didn't hear any cameras or whispers. He didn't want to risk dismissing the thought, even if he couldn't see anyone nearby. Slowly, yet without hesitation, he gently called your name, softly stroking your arm. You responded by murmuring his name, manipulating a warm and soft sound, making him wonder if you were conscious of his presence or merely dreaming—of him. It took a while, but Alex remained patient until your eyes opened, startled. He then placed the cap on your head, carefully cradling you in his arms, being cautious not to disorient you further as he buttoned his shirt on you, doing so with as little awkwardness as possible. Despite touching your skin, he never once looked anywhere but your face, waiting for your arms to slip into the sleeves until you looked somewhat presentable.

"We're going to walk to the car, alright? It'll be quick," he said, his voice concerned, firm, and reassuring. He knew what he was doing, hoping to minimize the damage. You simply nodded, resting your tired cheek on his shoulder, and he chuckled softly. "Can you put on my sunglasses, please, little one?" You gave a sweet smile, making him internally berate himself for putting you in this situation. He placed the sunglasses on you, guiding your hands with his own, and kept you close. "Shall we? It'll be quick, promise and you can sleep on the way to the hotel, huh?" You appreciated his calm demeanor, respecting your groggy mood after just waking up.

He grabbed your bag, abandoning any attempt to save the newspaper, and drove his hand on the small of your back. Leaning into him for comfort, you felt him hold you tighter. Instinctively, you nuzzled your face into his chest, only to hear him say, "Okay, just don't get too close to her, alright?" His heart pounded against your ear, and you heard the sound of camera clicks. You didn't want to, nor could you, open your eyes. You couldn't make sense of the noise; the person continued taking photos, asking questions, and you couldn't tell if there was more than one of them.

Alex opened the car door, firmly guiding you until you were seated inside. He gently stroked your hair, noticing how visibly shaken you were. He quickly kissed your forehead. It was a brief, hurried gesture, one you wished you had more time to savor. You held onto his arm, unable to speak. "I'll close the door and come around; I'll be right beside you, and we'll head to the hotel, okay?" He was frustrated, angry, but it wasn't directed at you; he didn't want you to see these feelings of his. He should have been more careful, knowing that this was possible even with the band being on a break, but he had been careless.

Once inside the car, with the windows tinted completely black, ensuring no one could see in, he reached for your hand as he started the engine, holding it tightly as you looked at him, dazed, avoiding looking outside. "Does this happen often?" you asked, your voice small. His throat tightened with an irrepressible knot; he hadn’t considered how foreign all this was to you.

…

Alex’s head throbbed, the furrow between his eyebrows deep with tension. You sat on the edge of the bed, hands clasped between your thighs, eyes filled with unshed tears as you looked at him. He had used his connections, calling to inform them of the situation and to request the removal of any photos of you from gossip sites if they had already been posted. He was told on the phone that it would be handled, which confirmed that the images had likely been uploaded.

Alex chose to make the call in the hallway, asking you to go ahead to the room, not wanting you to hear and worry more than you might have already. But as soon as he entered, it was clear you had seen something. Your fingers played with the hem of his shirt, lost in thought, and guilt washed over him.

"I can listen to you, pretty one," he said, his voice soft, showing a rare vulnerability as he assured you that he was there with you. He wanted to hear you out, to relieve any burden weighing on your shoulders.

"I know this happened because you’re well-known," you replied, swallowing hard as you struggled to find the right words. Alex waited, kneeling in front of you between your legs, his fingers lightly brushing your skin. He didn’t know exactly what to do, but hoped he could offer some comfort. The touch didn’t feel like a mistake—it was a natural act of reassurance, though the proximity made him feel conflicted. Yet, considering the situation, it seemed right.

"I’m really sorry, truly. It was careless of me," he apologized, his tone sincere. You shook your head, gently cupping his face in your hands, pushing his hair back. His warm, caramel eyes focused on you, filled with concern as you teetered on the edge of tears, a feeling he feared he didn’t fully understand.

"Tur, I might sound stupid, but—" You hesitated, then he responded with his usual tenderness, drawing you closer. Your legs wrapped around him, your arms holding him tight. He stroked your hair, helping you find comfort against him. The towel draped over his shoulders—since he had given you his shirt and didn't feel like walking around the hotel shirtless—slipped to the floor, and having his warmth was enough for you.

"If they like the album, which I really hope they do, and with all the pre-album promotion as an artist... I don’t want to sound ungrateful, huh, like, this whole journey with you has been amazing, but is it going to be normal to have so many people talking ‘bout me? Pictures of me without my consent? And comments about my appearance?" You couldn’t look at him, which made it easier for you to speak coherently without feeling embarrassed about opening up.

It was so much to process, and Alex hadn’t considered it from that angle. After all, he was the one who had brought you into this situation, both in the moment and for the long haul. You were young, and he didn’t want you to go through what he had at your age. He could have prevented this, but now you were caught up in it.

He kissed your forehead, then your eyelids, realizing just how intimately right—and wrong—this all felt. It was inevitable, and it shouldn’t have been. He pulled back slightly, only to give in when you tightened your hold, snuggling closer. You took his hand and placed it on your waist, your way of asking him for it to take longer, seeking more of his embrace. He chuckled softly, needing it just as much.

There wasn’t much to say. "I think you know the answer, little one. I wish it wasn’t like this either. I’m sorry for introducin’ you to this.”

Alex’s hands slid up and down your back, gripping the fabric and holding you tightly against him. Your sigh was one of relief, drawn out, so sweet. He cupped your chin, lifting your head to meet his gaze. Your cheeks were damp, and he offered a small, uncomfortable smile.

“It’s okay,” you said weakly, trying to sound more composed than you felt. “It’s not your fault, Turner. I don’t think that, and I don’t regret being here with you. I’m just scared of everything that’s going to come with this, especially since I never really thought about it before.” Your words seemed distant, but even in your emotional state, you were eloquent.

Alex didn’t know exactly what to expect either; things had changed since 2008. He remembered the Humbug era being the worst, with all the attention from MTV. His tongue rested on the roof of his mouth as your fingers found a home at the nape of his neck, gently tugging at the fine hairs, much like you do with the hem of your shirt when you’re anxious. It soothed you. Your eyes lowered to his chest, and you realized it was the first time you’d hugged him this longer, and he was shirtless. You liked everything about it—the warmth and the view you had.

He pulled the collar of your shirt toward him, bringing your face closer until his tiny beard tickled your skin. You looked at him, and he didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was staring right into your soul. You were beautiful with your red eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. Understanding what you were going through, he got you whispering amidst the chaos of finding the right words, “I can’t mess this up, Tur.”

He focused on your words, though he wanted to pull you into him even more, but he resisted, waiting for you to continue. “I want this too, I just don’t want you to think less of me, okay?” Your eyes welled up again, and as soon as you tried to lower your head, he gently lifted it back up, fully aware of what you were trying to convey. “I don’t want you to think I’m like this just because I’m interested in you. I don’t want you to see me as…” You paused, struggling with the words. He simply rested his forehead against yours, holding your face gently in his hands.

“I don’t think anything bad ‘bout you, lil’ one. I’ve never thought that way, and these are just your worries, you got me? Nothing changes the fact that I think you’re talented and competent, huh? That has nothing to do with how I see you as a professional. You don’t have to be afraid of that.” He was firm, his voice louder than usual. You took in every word, noting the roughness of his tone and the space between his lack of manners with sentences. He swallowed hard, his mouth slightly open, and you appreciated how patient he was with you, how well he seemed to understand that you needed this moment. Your fingers tightened on his, and then your lips met his. It was slow, and though you felt like you lacked experience, it was warm. He pulled you closer, every inch of you molding to him.

You started to pull away, embarrassed, feeling like maybe this wasn’t meant for you, but as soon as your lips began to leave his, he tugged your collar, bringing you back for a more urgent kiss, making it clear he had been waiting for this for a long time. You leaned back slightly, but he held you firmly, sensing how your body was softening against him. He chuckled into the kiss, and you felt his velvety tongue against yours, slowly being enveloped by wet, lingering kisses. The taste was salty from tears and the sea, you laughed at the thought of him being seasoned.

You brushed his fringe away, noticing how his cheeks were flushed and his lips swollen. You wanted more. You realized your brain hadn’t fully registered what it felt like to have his beard brushing against your face.

“Was it bad?” you asked, your voice barely audible. You couldn’t help but think about how Alex had been with many other women, while you could count on one hand the people you’d kissed in your life.

“Do you talk when you’re nervous?” His warm breath brushed against your skin, close enough to be unsettling. Before you could answer, he planted soft kisses on your lips, still making a slight sound and lingering just a bit. He tasted of mint, not quite of cigarettes. The tip of his nose grazed yours, and the subtle stubble on his face slid pleasantly against your cheek. When he pulled back, your natural reaction was to lean forward for more, which he didn’t resist, a playful smile on his lips as he let you set the pace. Your fingers seemed made for his hair, and Alex was sure of it. By the end, you were breathless, though he wasn’t quite as much.

“Okay, I need to breathe...through my nose while doing this.” He chuckled, pulling you close for a hug. You felt at ease with him, talking out of nerves, but it was clear it didn’t bother you. He liked that. “It’s not bad at all. It’s actually wonderful, pet.” He touched your nose and cheeks, his fingers tracing every feature, wanting to soak in each detail of you. “You’re beautiful,” he said. You nodded. He struggled to figure out if the way your eyes fluttered when he spoke to you like that was because of his voice or his compliments, yet he was determined to keep drawing those reactions from you.

He ran his calloused fingers up your thigh, stopping at your hips, squeezing them hard. Your nails dug into his shoulders in anticipation as your legs parted briefly, giving him better access and also making the fabric of your shirt give him more of a view. The bottom of your bikini was tight, very tight, leaving a mark on your skin and he ran his fingertips over the spot. You looked at him, thinking about how no one had ever looked at you like that; the mix of desire and actually seeing you as something more than that. You had written about it before, but never experienced it, and so you wondered about the possibility of Alex acting like that because he knew your writing. However, you didn't want to think badly of him, you wanted to enjoy it.

His gaze rose to meet yours, his tongue moistening his lips and the crease between his eyebrows deepening, was it fair that that alone made you wet? He didn't need to say anything, you confirmed what he wanted.

The attention lingered on your face, your heart racing at the serenity of how he undid the ties, getting rid of the piece. You couldn't move, taken by how delicate he was and his eyes on you didn't do the same, even though he didn't fail to contemplate you.

“Turner,” it was like a sob, a tiny sharp. His fingers touched your center, sighing as a way of savoring the moment, then he sank a little deeper, smearing his fingers and spreading them from your entrance to your clit to improve the sensation.

“It's all right, princess, I'm right ‘ere. I've got you, but we've got all the time in the world, so let's be patient, you're with me?" Each word was breathy and soft, difficult for you to string together, but you still repeated his last name in a pleading whisper.

He brushed two of his fingers against you, one of your legs lifting and bending at the knees, he laughed at your reactions but it was adorable, even though he was nothing much but his dark orbs. Respecting your body, he plunged his fingers deeper, sliding in easily. Your body gave in, your hands supporting you back and your moans getting hotter, you felt tighter but it still felt good.

"Relax, lil’ one. You can lie down, everything's fine, huh? You can just relax, no thoughts." His accent, full of patience, so familiar yet made you swallow hard. Alex’s fingers were damp, all along their length, carrying that blissful energy that comes with youth. Certainly, it could be said that you were not so used to that, the gap between doing something and thinking about it was great, given your state you had fantasized about it a few times; maybe you expected something he couldn't give you, but he was there for you.

He felt like an exception, he wasn't so young anymore, but he was acting like one. His fingers slid, you swallowed them completely, until your legs trembled a bit and he pulled back, only to repeat it all over again. He was touching you, getting to know you, and thinking about how he would be tasting your juices on his tongue in a few seconds, getting you ready to have him inside of you without any concern... He throbbed with each glimpse.

He couldn't deny that he had fantasized about you too, how he wanted to corrupt you while you were wearing your usual spaghetti strap dresses, hike them up to your waist and just pull down his pants to take you in the studio, have your voice fade away while instruments were thrown to the floor. He would get heavy, swollen with sensitivity in his underwear when he thought about you from time to time, refusing to do anything that bordered on disrespect, and even if he failed, he followed a ritual in his light groping, looking for relief, without letting himself get there as punishment. He never felt right thinking about you that way, but it seemed like a plausible moment to let himself be reminded of it.

Your eyes were closed, your face to the ceiling, your head pressed into the mattress in agony. You weren't expecting it, but your muscles clenched tighter into the sheets, this was new; you knew what it was, it just had never been like this. There were brief kisses on your wetness, noisy and messy, his hair brushed against your thigh and his hands were firmly on you. You had never seen yourself without thinking about anything, not literally, but your senses only hovered over how to be good for Turner so he could make you feel great.

For Alex, it was better than he remembered imagining. It was hard to breathe when all he could do was focus on keeping going, listening to your sweet whimpers for more. The vivid scent of peach filled his senses, your taste taking over his consciousness, everything felt so good.

He sank his tongue, contracting it hard so that it dissolved inside you and felt in honor how you dripped down the sides of his mouth. He held the edges of your shirt tightly, pushing you closer to him, his nose brushing against your clit while his whole face rubbed all over your folds with desire. Your fingers tightened in his hair, gripping hard as you called out his name, the words barely coherent. You focused on him with a dazed expression, your gaze hazy and unfocused. His face was serene, eyes closed in deep enjoyment, completely immersed in your taste. You shifted a little, although he soon forced you against the mattress so you wouldn't do that, wanting to feel his beard hurt your skin. In fact, boys your age, or at least your experiences, did that very quickly, as an obligation. Alex was not a boy.

"You're so addictive," your throat was dry. Alex hadn't even done half of what he had in mind with you; and you certainly couldn't handle it.

He turned his face away due to your trembling knees, holding your gaze to his. He wanted you to get there, but in another way. Still, he watched you as he pressed only the tips of his fingers on your clit, without movements other than those of your hips. “So smart and charming, is there anything you can't do?” You pulsed, electric current going through your entire body.

You didn't know what to do, your cheeks were burning and you could only moisten your lips, wanting the agonizing knot to disappear.

“Turner,” he laughed, the same nasal sound you loved. It was like a mantra, the repetition of the drawn-out last name coming out of you and the cocky laugh. “Please, I need it, I need you, Tur.”

He nodded, stiff and sore in his shorts, then stood up and pulled them off. He didn’t look in a hurry to you, it gave you a headache, but he was nice to look at; his pale skin, his slim waist, his shoulders red from your scratches and his reddened length. He was hot and well-endowed, good enough to make your mouth water.

"Have you done this before?" His friendly tone made you hate your thoughts, and also question if you actually had. His cheeks were flushed, as were his lips, and he swallowed hard while looking at you. You felt a bit embarrassed. "It's okay if you haven't, princess." You smiled softly, shaking your head. "A few times, but it was never good. But this time, it is." Alex understood; he didn't judge you and never would. He ran his hand through your hair, brushing it away from your face, then gently tugged at the collar of your shirt, pulling it slightly away from your skin. "Are your songs not based on your experiences?" You feared he might think that was a bad thing, but his voice didn't carry any judgment. "No..." You sighed, content with his touch and his body pressed to yours. "I don't think I've ever truly experienced love, at least not directly. But I like writing about how I hope it will be." His eyes were a bit misty, and he nodded. He found that meaning beautiful; it was a perspective he hadn't considered before. He didn't feel so distant from that, since he wrote about things he'd witnessed. "It's beautiful. You do it really well.”

He opened the buttons, one by one, taking his time. He revealed your body to him little by little, admiring your collarbone, the curve of your breasts and stomach. His lips touched every nuance, leaving a wet trail and a bite on the flesh below your perky nipple. You writhed with a shrill noise, your legs clinging to him, ready to feel him as he brushed against your thigh. Alex also moaned every now and then, much more restrained and full-bodied, so hoarse.

He held your face to him, preventing you from turning away. The weight of his body felt good, everything about Alex felt like being enveloped in calm; even though you didn't expect calm at that moment. He opened his mouth, perhaps as thirsty as you were, his tongue on the roof of his mouth, staring at you. Slow and precise, you had your muscles soften as he got warm and tight inside you. You swallowed greedily, wet as never before, taking every inch of him.

“Good pet, good girl.” You held onto him tighter, your eyes watering. He held your head, snuggling you close to him. "You're doing great, you're such a good girl, right? Focus on how I'm inside you, filling you to the brim, can you feel me, lil’ one?” He was hoarser, unavoidable not to pay attention. His voice really calmed you down, making it work, your legs rested slowly and you noticed he was more comfortable in you; fitting better.

He held your hand on top of your head, intertwining your fingers, letting you squeeze tightly. Your body rocked on the bed with the rhythm of his hips, the movement was slow, he let his entire length come out of you like that and then pressed harder so you could accommodate him all the way into your lower tummy. It was good, warm, it made you think of more and more until you felt your belly tingle. Alex had a prominent crease, his pink lips parted and he gasped along with you every time your bones collided. Unable to hold back, he sped up, letting you whisper a painful, "Thank you," which made him release your hand, gripping your wrist violently as his forehead fell onto your shoulder. You stained the back of his neck with bruises, wanting your fist to come out the same way.

Your hot breath came in short gasps, you tried to be coherent in shyly mumbling that he could come inside you; wanting to have him fill you to the last drop until you were exhausted. Which wouldn't be a problem, you took your precautions up to date.

The intensity of his body on yours was growing, similar to the arrival of guitar solos in a chorus; you had to close your eyes, really paying attention to how your walls squeezed him inside you. Your firm thighs around him, added to the strength with which he thrusted you, caused friction on your clit and you were becoming aware of your limits. You felt Alex hug you again, delicate arms around you, wetting your shirt in soft moans as he filled you warmly. The sensation, the noise, everything connected made you relieve yourself too, in a relaxation of having both liquids mixing, ready to run out of you. He slowed down, keeping the same ritual, making you feel your thighs sticky until he realized you were getting too sensitive with tears filling your pretty eyes, and it was better to stop.

There was the familiar, comfortable silence that always settled between you two, both of you immersed in each other's presence. The embrace was gentle yet firm. He was comfy, still inside you, pulsing a bit, but good. His hand moved in meaningful circles on your back, and you mirrored the motion on his arm. His hair was a mess, and you imagined yours probably was too. His swollen lips drew in air as before, making you contemplate the way his tongue rested against the roof of his mouth.

"Can you lick me, Tur?" You asked comfortably given the situation, feeling good all over his touch.

He ran his hand over your chin, looking at you, not finding it bad. You hesitated when you asked, but it seemed inevitable. He moistened his lips, touching the tip of his tongue to your mouth, right on the lower one, holding your face firmly and doing what you said. The velvety, wet touch ran down your lip and into your mouth, which made you smile slightly, holding him for a kiss. It was good, you had imagined that. He sucked your lip to himself, in a somewhat messy act of saliva, and you wanted to do it more often.

“You good?” It was a genuine intimacy, right after a few minutes of nothing but the pure sound of his heartbeat echoing in your ear. You couldn’t help but wonder if this would affect how professional he thought you were—after all, he was your mentor—but you didn’t want to bring that up now. Similarly, feeling the way his shirt clung to your body, brushing against his skin and stealing your scent, he wondered the same thing, afraid you might truly believe you weren’t talented enough due to the internet and that this had only made things worse in your mind. Yet, he didn’t know what to say; the silence felt safe. "I’m okay, Tur. Tired, but I don’t want to think about songs, albums, or what we’ll do in an hour right now." You nestled closer to him, kissing his cheek softly, then his neck. Your voice was laced with tears, and he wasn’t sure if it was about what happened minutes ago or the issue with the paparazzi, but he understood that you were vulnerable. He felt guilty, still processing everything. "I’m not going to leave you, little one. I’ll be ‘ere, to deal with this and remind you how good you are." He whispered into your hair that smelled of peaches. You believed him, and he made you see a future in all of this.

You could have him on the cover of your album.

...

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