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anya-anya002 · 5 months

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𝔓𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔠𝔲𝔪 (i) *full*

ꜰᴜɴᴇʀᴀʟ ᴅɪʀᴇᴄᴛᴏʀ! ᴀʟᴇx ᴛᴜʀɴᴇʀ x ꜰᴇᴍ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇɴᴛɪᴄᴇ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: you have a biology exam and you ask your friend’s father to help you study-

𝑰𝒏𝒄𝒍𝒖𝒅𝒆𝒔: age gap (21 f, 37 m), cheating, corruption kink (u gotta squint-), established relationship, mentor x apprentice relationship, medical kink/anatomical words….

(Guys…..I haven’t been to a med class in almost a year bear with me and Google-)

In the back of the funeral home was a small office; that’s where Mr. Turner authored the obituaries. Although small, it has a sort of coziness to it with its darkened navy walls stained with cigarette smoke. Then, to cover them were clippings from anatomical books he published. But now, it’s a dimly lit room with the familiar stench of cigarettes. You stood in the doorway with your bag in hand.

Your eyes were already focused on the person who occupied the room, Mr. Turner. His thick, brown tortoiseshell glasses perched on the tip of his nose as his fingers typed away on the laptop. A cigarette tight between his lips while his nostrils trickled out smoke like some kind of work fiend. But yet, he somehow looked peaceful. His shoulders slouched, and his hair ruffled. The blue light from the computer clashed against his face exposing smooth yet wrinkled skin. Yet, in all this time, he managed to keep his youth; you envy it.

“Mr. Turner,” you spoke. The air was thick with silence as the keys clacked. Then it stopped, his head turned to you, a blank expression worn as you stopped dead in your tracks. The lamps above the bookshelf cast ghastly shadows against his face, making his eyes glow.

“I, I was just wondering if you were being serious when you said you didn't mind helping me with my biology course last week.” you stammer.

“My anatomy test is in like three days, and I just can't wrap my head around everything,” you finished. Your words spewed out like vomit as you gripped the strap of your bag. While you were nearly panicking, Mr. Turner frowned. His arms stuck out tall while he stretched. Long, thick fingers interlocked as he let out a soft grunt and then returned to his position.

“Yea, I told Marie to let you know after she told me you're studying to be in mortuary science,” he said, a slight smile gracing his face. You nod, enter the room, and plop on the small, gray, squeaky couch. You looked at him, then at the brass clock that hung behind him, then back at him. Your nerves scorched at knowing that your friend told her father what you wanted to do.

“So, what’s the test on?” He asked. The cigarette ash fell onto the desk as he set it in the nearby ashtray. You paused, swallowing dryly before gripping the edge of the couch cushion you sat on.

“Uh...reproduction,” you said in a low voice. He hummed and looked at you again, his eyes a lot livelier.

“Hmm, do you have flashcards or no?” he asked, you shook your head ‘no.’ His index finger tapped the top of his knee rhythmically.

“Hand me your notebook,” Mr. Turner said, you scrambled and reached into your bag for it. You stood to hand it over, your legs rickety as you stood in front of him. His eyes peered up at you, scanning you up and down as he still tapped his finger against the desk. His gold band glimmered in the soft, yellow light as he clicked something off on his desktop. Flipping through your notebook for a moment lazily before speaking.

“Y/N?”

“Yea?” you perked up as he sat your notebook in his lap.

“Do you remember the barbeque your family threw that summer?” he asked, you sat down slow, still gazing at him while you nod. Both your eyes piercing into each other like needles before you blink. You were squirming in your skin as you nodded, vividly remembering the way his hands ran up your spine. Your cheeks heated up as you tugged on your top. Your ears rang from the silence, just the two of your gazing at each other.

“Yes,” you breathed to which Mr. Turner grinned. An almost crooked, hungry grin as he ran a finger through his hair. Bringing his chair out from his desk and sliding it right in front of you.

“How about we... study in a different way hmm?” he proposed. You nodded without a second thought, and the smirk on Alex’s face turned ghoulish. His dark eyes glowed within the small, dark room as you squirmed.

“Strip,” he commanded. You blinked, your whole body sweated as he stared you down. You slowly kicked your shoes off, each layer dropped onto the floor in soft thuds.

“Point to me where the vagina is,” he deadpanned. His warm honey, deep voice within the tiny room, like a bear growling within a cave. Once your jeans were gone, there was nothing left to remove. Your nakedness made you realize how warm it actually was in here. The beating in your chest turned into banging. You pressed your lips together tight, your hands shaky as you brought your arms to your chest.

“Y/N,” Mr. Turner said. You looked at him almost like your head was filled with cotton. His legs crossed to prop your notes against his slack-cladded knee. The lenses of his glasses now blocked by golden light as he waited.

“Yes, yes sir?” you asked. Your eyes wide like a deer in headlights. Anxiety began to bubble in your chest as he repeated himself.

“Point to me where the vagina is,” he said, even while repeating himself he just stayed purely monotone. As if you weren’t sat in front of him completely bare, he propped his head in his hand.

You scooted back on the couch, your body tense as you spread your legs, exposing your two puffy lips. Your eyebrows furrowed while your left hand reached down, past your stomach. Spreading your pussy lips with your middle and pointer finger.

“Do you need a mirror?” he asked, your eyes widened as Alex just watched you unfold. The idea of your cunt being seen back to you made a slither of shame appear in the pit of your stomach.

“It’s okay to need help, isn’t that why you’re here?” he cooed. You blinked, everything you thought about Mr. Turner may be wrong. You looked at him blankly, his fluffy shoulder-length hair was pulled back into a little half-up ponytail as he sat the book down onto the desk.

He leaned in close, the smell of bourbon and jasmine was faint while his eyes refused to stray from yours. Should you say something? Maybe you do need a mirror, you’d never know.

“Can you move your right hand for me?” he asked. The timbre voice rumbled through the room as he rested his hand on your ankle. Reaching down, the pad of your finger poked around. Cringing at the feeling of your finger poking at your urethra, almost like taking a big inhale of car exhaust.

But then that cringing vanished as you eased inside your hole. A soft gasp left you as your cunt began to stretch at the intrusion. Mr. Turner sat there unmoved, his eyes trained on your finger curiously.

“Is that where it is darling hmm?” He asked, a smirk bloomed on his face as arousal bubbled out of your little hole.

“Yes Mr. Turner,” you breathed. He hummed in approval then gently pulled your hand away, your finger removed from your cunt. His eyes went from yours down to between your legs. Your eyes clenched tight as he leaned closer. His breath ghosted against your legs, the follicles in your skin stood up as his closeness became ‘coke-headed’ close. His head hovered above your pelvis, his eyes looked down at the view.

“What a gorgeous thing Y/N/N,” Alex said. His thumb pulled the two thick lips apart to gaze upon the hole. His peer grew once more as he continued to gaze at your pussy.

“Tell me,” he began, his hands remove themselves from between your legs and ventured toward your inner thighs. They gripped the fat of your thighs tightly as he pecked your lips. Your eyes widened at the action,

“Now,” he said. His right hand and left leg untangled themselves, unzipping the golden zip of his dark green slacks. Fuck, the last time you saw him like this your own intoxication interrupted. But now there was no coitus interruptus, just you.

“I know you guys joke about the clitoris but….” Once he unzipped the slacks, the shade of this boxers were a deep maroon, but there wasn’t enough time to fully gaze once he pulled himself out.

Thick, that’s all literally all you could think, like any girl in a porno; will that thing even fucking fit in you?

“Which is more sensitive huh, the tip of my penis…or that adorable little clit of yours?” He asked, his cock ran across your slit, heat radiated off him. Fuck, he felt so warm, warmer than the room itself. Instead of static you felt fire licking up your sides.

“The clitoris?” You said, more like asked, maybe he didn’t catch the sudden inflection. Alex’s eyebrow raised, however…fuck he caught it.

“Are you sure dearest? Do you need an example?” He asked. Grabbing the base of his member and rubbed his tip against your vulva. That fire that licked up your sides, now seared them.

“Oh,” you shivered, his tip is flushed as he rubbed it against your clitoris. Mr. Turner groaned, eyes screwed shut while he see-sawed against your soaking slit. Deep-red tip moved in a circular motion as you whined, squirming against the couch as you gasp.

“Are you sure now?” He asked.

“T,the clitoris sir,”

“Hmm,”

His rubbing became faster, as if he was consumed by pleasure. Out of your control, moans continued to slip from your mouth as his thumb eased his tip inside. Gasps filled the room. Your eyes cracked open to see Mr.Turner, his glasses now perched atop his head as he clenched his eyes shut. His smooth, pale skin pasted in a thin sheen of sweat, his crow's feet now more prominent skin wrinkles like how one ruche cloth.

“Fuck-” he cursed, your hand that held your lips spread snaked to his. A fire blazed against your cheeks at the feeling of his hand against yours. Odd, such a trivial interaction sent your heart into overdrive and your scalp all prickly.

“Mr.Turn-”

“Alex,” he groaned out, his eyes opened while he reached down and gripped the fat of your thighs.

"Alex," you gasp. Your eyebrows furrowed as he gazed down at you, almost like he's never seen you before.

"Are we still studyin'?" you asked. Then you both went silent; your heavy breaths could be heard throughout the tiny office. This silence, however, was tensionless. Like a little break.

"No," he panted. His face leaned down to your ear. He hummed and slowly began to thrust inside. The feeling of his sheer girth nearly painful, your eyes screwed shut. Your hips felt wide almost like they weren’t supposed to bend like this.

The two of you panted as Mr. Turner’s hips rocked slowly. Watching your every move as his hips rolled against yours. Your legs burned slightly, making your face ball up as a hot tear rolled down your cheek.

“Alex!” You cried. Your hands gripped at his clothed shoulders. He ran his fingers up your spine all while tangling himself into him.

“Shh, shh, I know it hurts angel…you’re so tight though,” he cooed, to which you looked away flushed. Alex’s chuckles filled the room, still praising you sweetly as his hips pulled away from yours.

“Just breathe for me,” he continued, Mr. Turner’s lips pressed against the left side of your face. The rough hairs of his beard scratched against your skin. The pain slightly dulled as soft lips press all over your face. His little whispers and coos finally subdued once he felt your hips buck against his.

If you could take a picture of the sheer pleasure that appeared on Mr.Turner’s face. His lips curled into a large grin. His large hands ran over your breasts, his palms rough, calloused as he pawed and squeezed at your flesh.

“Al-“

“You’re gonna pass the exam-“ he blurted right before pounding into your cunt. You stare at him wide, the tip of his penis nudge against the swollen, spongey spot that made your entire body shudder and a loud moan to come from your lips.

The wallpaper appeared to be peeling or it may have been your head rocking up and down from Alex’s thrusts. His hair dangled down against his forehead as his cock plunged into your wet pussy, the squelches brought your hands up to shield your face. Embarrassed if you could still feel that with your nakedness on full display and your legs spread wide giving him a full view.

“H, How?” you finally squeaked, your eyes big as you gazed up at him. You would've been actually studying for said exam if it weren't for his cock that thrusted deep inside of you, nudging against your spot once more. He moved your hand away as you whine loudly, now able to fully look at him in the dim light.

“How can you fail the easiest exam in medicine?” he chided, his hips snapped against yours, a loud slapping sound filled your ears. His tip poked at the tight ring of your cervix. Your moans grew loud, echoing throughout the tiny, dark funeral home. The couch lurched with each deep thrust he made. His tip was kissing your cervix more as your pussy gush around him.

Alex moaned at the sight, his eyes glued between your legs before he spoke once more.

“I mean- we’re ‘reproducing’ right now,” he teased, you gazed up at him. If it were anyone else who said that, you'd get up and dip out, but it's not anyone. You shivered at the words clenching around him and hearing his moans in response.

“What’s that called Y/N?” Mr. Turner asked, eyeing you with curiosity. His hips still moved as you thought of anything to say yet the way his thick cock fucked into you deep dumped out all your words like a piggy bank. Easing against your spot as you moan.

“C’mon Y/N…what’s it called when you squeeze your cute little pussy around my cock?” He asked, a brow raised on his sweaty forehead as you shiver and clench around him again. Unable of an answer you blurt,

“Contraction?” You asked meekly to which he chuckled low. His laughter rumbled against your chest as you look up at him. Your big eyes couldn’t sway him however as he grabbed your leg and placed it on his hip, forming a pressure in your lower stomach akin to someone sticking a finger deep inside your belly button.

“Wanna try again?” He teased, the golden light tickled the sides of his face, shimmering through his locks of hair as he gazed down at you. However this time, you answered him,

“Vaginismus,” you said, still unsure. Your mind occupied on your friend’s dad’s cock thats stretching your walls.

Mr.Turner, or Alex tapped his chin, now actually serious. He gazes down at you. Scanning over your body as if you’re a text book or an anatomical diagram as the silence crept back in. Your chests heaving as he searched for an answer.

During that tense, confused silence you heard footsteps. As if not even the dead that rested here wanted you to finish upon hearing the loud, slow, clicking footsteps. Mr.Turner’s eyes widened as he paled—quickly, he scrambled. Pulling out of you, to your dismay. You began to whine softly, but he simply shushed you by pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“Get dressed we’ll finish at some other time,” he whispered before getting up and adjusting himself. A scowl appeared on his face as he tucked himself back in his slacks and wandering out to investigate the noise.

Leaving you all to yourself in the empty room…

“Who’s here?” Mrs. Parks-Turner’s voice filled the quiet hall, to which you tensed. Your heart stilled, scrambling to get dressed once more.

“No one Vivi, just a video in my office…”

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒅: @rentsturner @harrysbestiee

*if you’d like to be tagged just message me ‘tagged’*

#anya—anya #my fics #alex turner #alex turner x reader #alex turner x y/n #alex turner x you #funeral director! alex #mentor x mentee #arctic monkeys #full story #the bar🍸#mortuary au #Spotify #smut #𝔓𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔠𝔲𝔪🪦

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anya-anya002 · 4 months

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More lil thoughts <3

-bedtime, just bedtime. Being all cozy and tangled up underneath the sheets. In the winter the air is dry so the slither of the window being open is quite normal. But not the freezing air that creeps within the cracks that lay beneath you two. He pulls you in closer most times, frustrated from all the cold.

-Imagine getting high asf with him around the city. You took him to this THC infusion cafe and bought coffee…you both were gone within the hour. Just wandering around the streets giggling and looking around at all towering skyscrapers and clouds that crawled by. (He‘d never say this to anyone but you but he had an high moment when you were wandering in a Target because he thought too hard about the idea of Cool Ranch Dorito seasoning-)

-Him getting overwhelmed and tired that the only thing he can think to do to relieve stress is to suck on your breasts. His lips wrapping around your nipple as you scroll through you phone. His eyes instantly fluttering shut once you give in and cradle his head to your chest.

-Both of you being big on napping. On tour? You’re both knocked the fuck out in his bunk. At a party? You got too high and he didn’t wanna be around people for that long, you both took a nap in the guest room. Either way, neither of you play about napping. You’re both like two little cats.

-A professor Al’ one. You smoking on your porch early mornings with him. The first of many peaceful things of the day as you sit close and listen to him talk about a new film he’s seen or a new record store that’s opened up in the city. He dreads 6:00 am, begrudgingly getting dressed for work as you watch him from the doorway of the living room.

-Reading books around/ with him. You’re laid across his lap on the couch or in the back of the car reacting to each page you read aloud as he follows along silently. His fingers trail against the side of your head as you complain about how stupid the main character is being, lightly chuckling at your remarks.

-Teaching him how to use a phone (don’t lie…he’s paw paw-). This man forgets his password every 4 business days, he always calls or texts you for the password like he didn’t make the Netflix account 🧍🏿. You’ve started to just keep a tally of which account he forgets the most (…it’s his Spotify-)

-Watching reality tv with him. He swore he would never watch such insanity, but there he is shouting “she really just say that to her?” while you nod in silent agreement. He's probably more caught up than you, especially when he's touring. No you aren’t horrid like the cast, but it somehow warms his heart knowing on the other side of the world you're probably watching the same show. (Imagine him watching 90 day 🧍🏿-)

- funeral director one…Mr. Turner’s most prized possession is a gold plated trocar. It’s usually hung up in his office where no one can see it, but when he first taught you embalming he brought it out just for “good luck”. (He was indeed half hard watching you hold his most favorite item in the world-)

#anya—anya #my fics #alex turner #arctic monkeys #alex turner x reader #blurb #alex turner x y/n #alex turner x you #fluff #slice of life #headcanon #it’s a vibe

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