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sophaeros · 2 months

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arctic monkeys for q magazine, june 2011 (x) (x)

ARCTIC MONKEYS: Inside Alex Turner's Head

Words Sylvia Patterson Portrait John Wright

The day Arctic Monkeys moved into their six bedroom, Spanish-style villa in the Hollywood Hills, where the first-floor balcony looked over the patio swimming pool, they knew exactly what to do.

"From the balcony, you could get on t'roof and jump in't pool," chirps the Monkeys' most gregarious member, drummer Matt Helders, in his homely Yorkshire way. "We looked at it and said, That's definitely gonna happen. So by the end, we did a couple of 'em. Somersaults in t'pool, from the roof. At night time."

In January 2011, as Sheffield and the rest of Britain endured its bitterest winter in a century, Arctic Monkeys capered among the palm trees, eschewing hotels for a millionaire's Hollywood homestead as they recorded and mixed their fourth studio album, Suck It and See.

The four Monkeys, alongside producer James Ford and engineer James Brown, lived what they called the "American man thing": watched Super Bowl on giant TVs, played ping-pong, hired two Mustangs, cooked cartoon Tom And Jerry-sized steaks on barbecues on Sundays, had girlfriends over to visit, all cooking and drinking around the colossal outdoor kitchen area featuring a fridge and two dishwashers. Living atop the Hills, they could see the Pacific Ocean beyond by day, the infinite glittering lights of downtown LA by night.

Every day, en route to Sound City Studios, they'd travel in a seven-seater four-by-four through the mountains, via bohemian 60s enclave Laurel Canyon, blaring out the tunes: The Stones Roses, The Cramps, the Misfits' Hollywood Babylon. For the sometime teenage art-punk renegades whose guitarist, Jamie Cook, was once ejected from London's Met Bar for refusing to pay €22 for two beers, the comedy rock'n'roll life still feels, however, absolutely nothing like reality.

NICK O'MALLEY: "It were really as if we were on holiday. When we came back it's the most post-holiday blues I've ever had!"

JAMIE COOK: "It's hard to comment on that. It were just really good fun."

MATT HELDERS: "We always said, As soon as things like that feel normal, we're in trouble. But it's just funny. You might think it would get more and more serious as you get older but it's getting funnier. We've done four albums now and I'm still only 24, I'm still immature to an extent. So who cares?"

Alex? Al? Are you there?

ALEX TURNER: "Yeah, it were good times. But we were in the studio most of the time. So there's no real wild Hollywood stories. Hmn. Yeah."

Wednesday, 16 March 2011, Strongroom Bar, Shoreditch, East London, 11am. Alex Turner, 25, slips entirely alone into an empty art-crowd brasserie looking like an indie girl's indie dream boy: mop-top bouffant hair which coils, in curlicues, directly into his cheekbones, army-green waist-length jacket, baggy-arsed skinny jeans, black cord zip-up cardigan, simple gold chain, supermoon sized chocolate-brown eyes.

Almost six years after I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor became the indie-punk anthem of a generation (from the first of Arctic Monkeys' three Number 1 albums), and nothing prepares you for the curious phenomenon of Alex Turner "in conversation". Unlike so many of the Monkeys frenetic early songs, he operates in slow motion, seemingly underwater, carrying a protective shell on his back, perhaps indie rock's very own diamond-backed terrapin. The most celebrated young wordsmith in rock'n roll today talks fulsomely, in fact, only in shapeless, curling sentences punctuated with "maybe... hmn.. yeah", an anecdotal wilderness sketching pictures as vague as a cloud. He is, though, simultaneously adorable: amenable, gentle, graceful, and as Northern as a 70s grandpa who literally greets you with "ey oop?".

"People think I'm a miserable bastard," he notes, cheerfully, "but it's just the way me face falls." Still profoundly private, if not as hermetically sealed as a vacuum-packed length of Frankfurter, his fante-shy reticence extends not only to his personal life (his four-year relationship with It-girl/TV presenter Alexa Chung, whom he never mentions) but to insider details generally. Take the Monkeys’ Hollywood high jinks documented above: not one word of it was described by Turner. Before Q was informed by his other Monkey bandmates, Turner’s anecdotal aversion unfolded like this:

Describe the lovely villa you were in. AT: "Well... we certainly had a... good view."

Of what? AT: "Well, we were up quite high."

The downtown LA lights going on forever? AT: "I dunno. It was definitely that thing of getting a bit of sort of sunshine. Is it vitamin D? If you can get vitamin D on your record, you've got a bit of a head start. So we'd get up and drive to the studio."

What were you driving? AT: "Nothing... spectacular. But yeah, we'd drive up the studio, spend all day there and sort of, y know, get back. To be honest... we had limited time. So we spent as much time as possible kind of getting into it, like, in the studio.

So your favourite adventures were what? AT: "Well, they were really… minimal. We were working out there!"

Any nightclubs or anything, perhaps? AT: "You really want the goss 'ere, don't you?"

Yes, please. AT: "I could make some up. Nah!"

And this was on the second time of asking. It's perhaps obvious: Alex Turner, one of the most prolific songwriters of his generation (four Monkeys albums and two EPs in five years, The Last Shadow Puppets side-project, a bewitching acoustic soundtrack for his actor/video director friend Richard Ayoade's feature-length debut Submarine), is dedicated only to the cause – of being the best he can possibly be. He simply remembers the songs much more than the somersaults.

Throughout 2009, Arctic Monkeys toured third album Humbug – the record mostly made in the Californian desert with Queens Of The Stone Age man-monolith Josh Homme – across the planet. While hardly some cranium-blistering opus, its heavier sonic meanderings considerably slowed the Arctic Monkeys' live sets and on 23 August 2009, Q watched them headline the Lowlands Festival, Holland and witnessed a hitherto unthinkable sight – swathes of perplexed Monkeys fans trudging away from the stage. With the sludge rock mood matching their cascading dude-rock hair it seemed obvious: they'd smoked way too much outrageously strong weed in the desert.

"Heheheh, yeah," responds Turner, unperturbed. "That's your theory. You probably weren't alone."

Back in the Strongroom Bar, Turner's arm is now nonchalantly draped along the back of a beaten-up brown leather sofa. He ponders his band's somewhat contrary reputation…

"I think starting the headline set at Reading with a cover of a Nick Cave tune perhaps was a bit contrary. D'youknowhat Imean?! But to be honest, that summer, at those festivals, we had a great time. And I know some fans enjoyed those sets 10 times more. And you can't just do, y’know, another Mardy Bum or whatever. Because how could you, really?"

With Humbug, notes Turner, "I went into corners I hadn't before, because I needed to see what were there," but by spring 2010 he wanted their fourth album to be "more song-based" and less lyrically "removed". He was "organised this time", studied "the good songwriters" (from Nick Cave, The Byrds and Leonard Cohen to country colossi Johnny Cash and Patsy Cline), discovered "the other three strings" on his guitar, and wrote 12 songs through the spring and summer of 2010, mostly in the fourth-floor New York flat he shared with Chung before the couple moved back to London late last summer (the New York MTV show It's On With Alexa Chung was cancelled after two seasons). The result: major-key melodies, harmonised singing and classic song structures.

At the same time he revisited the opposite extreme: bands such as Black Sabbath and The Stooges ("we wanted a few wig-outs as well"); he was also still heavily influenced by the oil-thick grinder rock of Josh Homme, who is clearly now a permanent Monkeys hero. After four months' rehearsals in London, on 8 January the Monkeys relocated to LA for five swift weeks of production and Homme came to visit, singing backing vocals on All My Own Stunts. Tequila was involved.

"Tequila is probably me favourite," manages Turner, by way of an anecdote. "But it takes a certain climate... It's not the same... in the rain. Yeah. [Looks to be contemplating a lyric] Tequila in the rain."

Vocally, he developed the caramel richness first unveiled on The Last Shadow Puppets' Scott Walker-esque The Age Of The Understatement, finding a crooner's vibrato. "Everything before was so tight,” he notes, clutching his neck. "Probably just through nerves. That's just not there any more." Suck It and See contains at least four of the most glittering, sing-along, world-class pop songs (and obvious singles) of Arctic Monkeys' career: the towering, clanging She's Thunderstorms, the summertime stunner The Hellcat Spangled Shalalala, the heavenly harmonised title track and the Echo & The Bunnymen-esque jangly pop of closer That's Where You're Wrong.

Elsewhere, in typically contrary "fashion", there's preposterous head-banger bedlam (Brick By Brick, the rollicking faux-heavy rock download they released in March "just for fun", featuring vocals by Helders; Don't Sit Down 'Cause I've Moved Your Chair, and Library Pictures). News arrives that the first single proper will be Don't Sit Down 'Cause I've Moved Your Chair. Q is perplexed. Brilliantly titled, certainly, but arriving after Brick By Brick, the new album will appear to the planet as some comedy pastiche metal album for 12-year-old boys.

You've got all these colossal, summery, indie-pop classics and you've gone for... The Chair? AT: [Laughing uproariously] "The Chair! I'm now calling it The Chair, that's cool. Well for once it weren't even our suggestion. It was Laurence's (Bell, Domino label boss). And I were, Fucking too right! He's awesome. It'd be good to get a bit of fucking rock'n'roll out there, won't it? It's riffs. It's loud. It's funny."

If you don't release The Hellcat Spangled Shalalala as a single I'm going round Domino to kick Laurence's "awesome" butt. AT: "I think it'll be the next one!"

The record's title, meanwhile, could've been more enigmatically original than the un-loved phrase Suck It and See. The band, struggling with ideas due to the opposing sonic moods, invented an inspiration-conjuring ruse: to think of new names for effects pedals in the style of Tom Wolfe, Turner being long enamoured with the American author's legendarily psychedelic books The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test and The Kandy-Kolored Tangerine-Flake Streamline Baby, "cos that just sounds awesome".

"There's the Big Muff pedal," he elaborates, "That’s the classic. I've got the Valve Slapper. And there's the Tube Screamer. So we came up with the Thunder Suckle Fuzz Canyon. And… wait till I assemble it in me mind… em… it'll come to me… The Blonde-O-Sonic Shimmer Trap. So we were going for summat like that."

A wasted opportunity?

"Nah. Because some of those things ended up in the lyrics anyway. Suck It and See was just easier."

Alex Turner, rock'n'roll's premier descriptive art-poet, still writes his lyrics long-hand in spiral-bound notebooks. "Writing lyrics is a craft that I've practised a bit now," he avers. "In me notebook it looks like sums. Theories. There's words and arrows going everywhere. There's always a few possibilities and I write the word 'OR' in a square."

For our most celebrated colloquial sketch-writer of the everyday observation (all betting pencils, boy slags and ice-cream van aggravations) the more successful he becomes, the less he orbits the ordinary. "I'm not struggling with that, to be honest," he decides. "In fact I'm enjoying writing lyrics much more than I did. Stories. Describing a picture. Um. There's quite a bit of weather and time in this one. Which is probably not reassuring. 'Oh God, he's writing about the weather.' Maybe leave that out!"

There are also some direct, funny, romantic observations: "That's not a skirt, girl, that's a sawn-off shotgun/And I only hope you've got it aimed at me..." (from the title track).

Some of your romantic quips, now, must be about Alexa. AT: "Right. Yeah. Definitely. Well... there's always been that side to our songs, when we weren't writing about... the fucking taxi rank. It's kind of inevitably... people you're with." [At the mention of Chung's name, Turner is visibly aggrieved, head sliding into his neck, terrapin-esque indeed.]

It must have been very grounding being in a proper relationship through all this madness. Because if you weren't, girls would be jumping all over your head. AT: "Em. Hmn. Well, of course that helps you to... I don't really know.. what the other way would be."

Does Alexa wonder if the lyrics are about her? AT: "Oh there's none of that. Yeah, no, there's no looking over the shoulder."

She must be curious, at least. "Maybe."

Did you ever watch Popworld? AT: [Nervous laughter] "Em! Now and again."

Did you ever see the episode where she helps Paul McCartney write a song about shoes? AT: "Ah, yeah I think so, maybe I did see that."

Well, if I was you, I'd have been thinking, "She's the one for me." AT: "Well. Yeah... maybe that would've... sealed the deal! Hmn. But maybe that wasn't when i got the ray of light. When was? Nah [buries head in hands]. I might have to go for a cigarette..."

Q can't torture him any more and joins him for a snout. Turner smokes Camels from a crumpled, sad, soft-pack and resembles a teenager again. As early song You Probably Couldn't See For The Lights But You Were Staring Straight At Me says, "Never tenser/Could all go a bit Frank Spencer…”

In January 2006, when Arctic Monkeys' Number 1 album Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not became the fastest-selling debut in UK history, inadvertently redefining the concept of autonomy and further imploding the decimated music industry (& wasn't their idea to be "the MySpace band", it was their fans': the Monkeys merely kick-started viral marketing by giving away demos at gigs), the 19- and 20-year-old Monkeys were terrible at fame. They weren't so much insurrectionary teenage upstarts as teenage innocents culturally traumatised by the peak-era fame democracy.

To their generation (born in the mid-'80s) fame was now synonymous with some-twat-off-the-telly a world of foaming tabloid hysteria where renown and celebrity meant, in fact, you were talentless. Hence their interview diffidence and receiving awards via videos dressed up as the Wizard OfOz and the Village People. Which only, ironically, made them even more celebrated and famous. (“That were a product of us just trying to hold onto the reins," thinks Turner today. "Being uncooperative.")

Q meets The Other Three one morning at 11am, in the well-appointed, empty bar of the Bethnal Green, Bast London hotel they're staying in (all three live in Sheffield, with their girlfriends, in their own homes). First to arrive is the industrious, sensible and cheerful Helders, crunching into a hangover-curing green apple. He has recovered from last year's boxing accident at the gym, which left his broken arm requiring a fitted plate. Now impressively purple-scarred, the break felt "interesting" and the doctor couldn't resist the one-armed drummer jest: "D'you like Def Leppard?"

Currently enjoying an enduring bromance with Diddy, he still doesn't feel famous, "it just doesn't feel that real, there's no paparazzi waiting for me to trip up." He and Turner, during the four-month rehearsals last year, became an accomplished roast dinner cooking duo for the band. "I reckon we could have us our own cookbook," he beams. "Pictures of us stirring, with a whisk."

O'Malley, an agreeable, twinkly-eyed 25-year-old with a strikingly deep voice and a winningly huge smile, is still coyly embarrassed by the interview process. A replacement for the departed original bass player Andy Nicholson in May 2006, he went from Asda shelf-filler to Glastonbury headliner in 13 months and still finds the Monkeys "a massive adventure". His life in Sheffield is profoundly normal – he's delighted that his new home since last October has an open-hearth fireplace: "Me parents had electric bars." He has also discovered cooking. “I’m just a pretty shit-hot housewife, most of the time," he smiles. "I cook stews, fish combinations, curries, chillies. I made a beef pho noodle soup the other day, Vietnamese, I surprised meself, had some mates round for that."

Recently, at his dad's 50th birthday bash, the party band, made up of family and friends, insisted he join them onstage "for ...The Dancefloor. So I were up there [mimes playing bass, all sheepish] and it were the wrong pitch, they didn't know the words or 'owt, going, Makin eyes... er..." He has no extra-curricular musical ambitions. "I'm happy just playing bass," he smiles. "I've never had the skill of doing songs meself. It'd be shit!"

Cook, 25, is still spectacularly embarrassed by the interview process. He perches upright, with a fixed nervous smile, newly shorn of the beard and ponytail he sported in LA: "Rockin' a pone, yeah, because I could get away with it." With his classic preppy haircut and dapper green military coat (from London's swish department store, Liberty), he looks like a handsome '40s film star. (Turner deems Cook "the band heartbreaker" and had a word with him post-LA: "I said to him, Come on, mate, you've got to get that beard shaved off. Get the girls back into us. Shift some posters.")

His life in Sheffield is also profoundly normal. He still plays Sunday League football with his local pub team, The Pack Horse FC (position, left back), remains in his long-term relationship with page-three-model-turned-make-up-artist Katie Downes and "potters about" at home, refusing to describe said home, "cos I'll get burgled".

A tiler by trade, he always vowed, should the Monkeys sign a deal, that he'd throw his trowel in a Sheffield river on his last day of work. "I never did fling me trowel," he confirms. "Probably still in me shed." He's never considered what his band represents to his generation. "I'd go insane thinking about it, I'm pretty good at not thinking about it… Oh God. I'm terrible at this!"

Back in the Strongroom Bar, Alex Turner is cloudily describing his everyday life. "I just keep meself to meself," he confounds. He mostly stays indoors and his perfect night in with Alexa is "watching loads of Sopranos. And doing roast dinners".

No longer spindle-limbed, he attends a gym and has handsomely well-defined arms – "You have to look after yourself."

Suddenly, Crying Lightning from Humbug rumbles over the bar stereo. "Wow. How about that? I was quite happy the other morning cos Brick By Brick were on the round-up goals on Soccer AM. It's still exciting when that happens. It was like Brick By Brick is real."

He spends his days writing music, "listening to records", and recommends Blues Run The Game by doomed '60s minstrel Jackson C Frank ("who's that lass?... Laura Marling, she did a cover recently), a simple, acoustic, deep and regretful stunner about missing someone on the road.

Lyrically, he cites as an example of greatness the Nick Cave B-side Little Empty Boat [from ‘97 single Into My Arms ], a comically sinister paean to a sexual power struggle: "Your knowledge is impressive and your argument is good/But I am the resurrection babe and you're standing on my foot."

"I need a hobby," he suddenly decides. "I'd like to learn another language." Since his mum is a German teacher (his dad teaches music), surely he can speak some German? "I know how to ask somebody if they've had fun at Christmas." Go on, then. "Nah!"

Where Turner's creative gifts stem from remains a contemporary rock'n'roll mystery; he became a fledgling songwriter at 16, after the gift of a guitar at Christmas from his parents. An only child, did his folks, perhaps, foresee artistic greatness? "I doubt it!" he balks. "Cos I didn't. I wasn't... a show kid." Like the others, he doesn't analyse the past, or the future.

"You can't constantly be thinking about what's happened," he reasons, "it's just about getting on with it." The elaborate pinky ring he now constantly wears, however, a silver, gold and ruby metal-goth corker featuring the words DEATH RAMPS is a permanent reminder of he and his best friends’ past. The Death Ramps is not only a Monkeys pseudonym and B-side to Teddy Picker, but a place they used to ride their bikes in Sheffield as kids.

"Up in the woods near where we lived," he nods. "Just little hills. But when you're eight years old they're death ramps." The ring was custom made by a friend of his, who runs top-end rock'n'roll jewellery emporium The Great Frog near London's Carnaby Street. Ask Turner why he thinks the chase between his writing and speaking eloquence is quite so mesmerisingly vast and he attempts a theory.

"Well, writing isn't the same as speaking," he muses. "Not for me. I seem to struggle more and more with... conversation. Talking onstage... I can't do it any more. Hmn. I'll have to work on that."

The ever-helpful Helders has a better theory.

"Since he's been writing songs," he ponders, “It seems like he’s always thinking about that. So even when he’s talking to you now, he’s thinking about the next thing that rhymes with a word. Even when he’s driving. We joke he’s a bad driver, his focus is never 100 per cent on what he’s doing. Which is good for us cos it means he’s got another 12 songs up his sleeve. I think music must be the easiest way for him to be concise and get everything out. Otherwise his head would explode.”

The Shoreditch.com photo studios, 18 March. Alex Turner, today, is more ethereally distracted than ever, transfixed by the studio iPod, playing Led Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones, a version of I’d Rather Go Blind. Occasionally, he’ll completely lose his conversational thread, “Um. I’ve dropped a stitch.”

The first to arrive for Q’s photoshoot, he greets his incoming bandmates with enormous hugs (and also hugs them goodbye). Today, Q feels it’s pointless poking its pickaxe of serious enquiry further into Turner’s vacuum-packed soul and wonders if he’ll play, instead, a daft game. It’s called Popworld Questions, as first posed by someone he knows rather well.

“Oh, OK. Let’s do it,” he blinks, now perched in an empty dressing room. He then vigorously shakes his head, “Um…I’ve gotta snap back into it.”

Here, then, are some genuine “Alexa Chung on Popworld” questions (2006-2007), as originally posed to Matt Willis, Amy Winehouse, Robbie Williams, Pussycat Dolls, Kaiser Chiefs and Diddy.

Why do indie bands wear such tight jeans? AT: “Um. I supposed they do. They haven’t always. When we first were playing I was definitely in flares. You need to be quite tall to get the full effect, though. So, that's why this indie band wears such tight jeans, cos we've not got the legs for flares."

What makes you tick in the sexy department? AT: "Wow. Pass. What do I find most attractive in a woman? Something in the head? That's definitely a requirement. Well... Hmn. I'm struggling."

Tell us about all the lovely groupies. AT: "No!"

If dogs had human hands instead of paws, would you consider trying to teach them to play the piano? AT: "Absolutely. I'd teach Hey Jude."

How many plums d'you think you can comfortably fit in one hand? AT: "They're not very big. [Holds small, pale, girly hand up for inspection] It's a shame. Probably three. Diddy only managed two? Maybe not then. I can carry a lot of glasses at once, though. If they're small ones I can do four."

Are you cool? AT: "Not as much as I'd like to be. There's this clip where Clint Eastwood is on a talkshow and he gets asked, Everybody thinks of you as defining cool, what d'you think about that? And he gets his cigs out, takes one out, flicks it into his mouth, lights it and says, I have no idea what you're talking about."

Here, Turner locates his Camels soft-pack and attempts to do a Clint Eastwood. He flicks one upwards towards his mouth. And misses. Flicks another. And misses. "Third time lucky?" He misses. "I'll get it the next time." And succeeds. "Hey. Fourth time. Don't put that in! So there you go. I'm four steps away from where I wanna be."

Thank you very much for joining me here on Popworld, here's my clammy hand again. There it is, let it slip, hmmn. You can let go now. AT: "OK! Were you a Popworld fan, then? It was funny. Cool. What were we talking about, before?"

Blimey, Alex. What must you be like when you're completely stoned out of your head? AT: "Stoned? What d'you mean, cos I seem like that anyway? Yeah. A lot of people... tell me I'm a bit... dreamy. But I like the idea of that. Of being somewhere else."

Two days earlier, Turner had contemplated what he wanted from all this, in the end. Many seconds later he gave his deceptively ambitious answer.

"I just wanna write better songs," he decided. "And better lyrics. I just definitely wanna be good at it. Hmn. Yeah.”

—

RUFUS BLACK: AKA Matt Helders, on his ongoing bromance with Diddy

Matt Helders has known preposterous rap titan Diddy since they met in Miami in 2008. “He goes, Arctic Monkeys! Then he said summat about a B-side and I was like, He's not lying! I just thought, This is funny, I'm gonna go with this for a while." Last October Diddy texted Helders, suggesting he play drums with his Diddy Dirty Money band on Friday Night With Jonathan Ross, to give his own drummer a day off. “I were bowling with me girifriend at the time. In Sheffield, on a Sunday." On the day of recording, says Helder, "We had a musical director. That were one of the maddest times of my life. Next day Diddy said, Why don't you just stay? Come along with me. So I went everywhere with him." Diddy had "a convoy of cars" and made sure Helders was always in his. "He'd stop his car and go, Where's Matt? You're coming with me! So I'd get in his car. Just me, him, his security, driver." Diddy, by now, had given him a pseudonym - Rufus Black. "He kept saying, I don't wanna fuck up your image. And I'm, I don't think it's gonna do me any harm!" He stayed in Diddy's spectacularly expensive hotel. Some weeks later, Helders almost returned to the Dirty Money drumstool for a gig in Glasgow. "But we were rehearsing in London. I were like, I might come, how are you getting there? And he were like, Jet. Jump on t’jet with me. But I had to stay in Bethnal Green instead.”

Love’s young dream: Diddy (left) with Helders

#arctic monkeys #alex turner #matt helders #nick o'malley #jamie cook #sias era #interview #q magazine #my image id #bands #this is such a funny interview honestly shfjwjs #self proclaimed housewife nick my beloved......#also why did the interviewer describe alex's hands as small pale and girly HELPME #btw im missing page 93 it's probabky just a photospread but yeah #i managed to find the dead links' images on vk #eye contact #not my scan

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dietmountaindewbae · 2 months

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please please please can you write me a fic where reader and Humbug Alex are both work colleagues (reader thinks Alex is goofy and nerdy - but boy she will be wrong) and they fuck in his office whilst a work party is happening downstairs. PLEASE

xxv. talk tonight

alex turner x reader

word count: 4739

summary: At an office party (humbug!) Alex watched you all by yourself, his heart tells him to hurry and talk to you before he loses the chance to.

warnings: ch*cking, scracth*ng, degrad*ng.

playlist

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The elevator doors shut close, and finally, some silence makes you feel at ease. You're not even close to feeling a buzz with the skinny glasses of sparkly champagne they served and as you traveled up the rooftop you propped a cigarette in your mouth.

You swing open the door of the building's rooftop, the company you worked for was having its 6th anniversary, and while everyone was celebrating downstairs, you were aching for some time by yourself. The fresh cold allowed you to breathe but it only made goosebumps crawl up your back.

"Be careful there" Someone says from behind you, you are too close to the edge of the wall, so you turn around on your feet and face the man with the gentle voice.

"What are you doin' up here?" You say with a silly smile. Alex was one of the best workers at the company, he's been rewarded and recognized for his honest work and loyalty to the company, he's a good guy but socially awkward when it comes to going to bars late at night after working extra hours.

"Just wanted some space" You've never had a real conversation with Alex, let alone, be completely by yourself with him. Alex was a nice man, with his long wavy hair and his shy little voice and thick Yorkshire accent, he was decent, always serious but he had something likable and magnetic about him.

"Me too, are you having fun though?" You grab from your skirt your lighter and try to burn your cigarette, in the attempt you fail, and he leans in, grabbing the lighter and helping you light your cigarette, grabbing one from his box.

"Not quite there yet," He says, blowing the smoke away, "I'm waiting for the booze to kick in" You giggled, catching Alex's attention.

"It's the first time I've heard you say more than 4 words to me" Alex looks down to the floor smiling, he's quite shy but very nice, "I enjoy that..." He looks back at you with a smile, maybe it was the booze, but his radiant brown eyes looking at yours so deeply make you feel hot.

"What about you? How are you feelin'?" As you were talking, Alex's eyes ran down your body discreetly, you were looking sexy with your black mini skirt long sheer black knee socks, and grey silk button-up blouse, nearly unmade, your nails painted black, and your hair in soft curls. The smell of your perfume and the cigarette that burned in between your fingers blew him away.

"...But overall I think the party's ok, I just don't like the music the DJ chose" Alex smiles softly, and each time you talk he takes a step closer to you.

"Horrible set, isn't it?" You lightly chuckle nodding your head, "What kind of music would you like him to play?"

"Mmm... I dunno maybe the smiths? I love the smiths... I know it's an odd choice for a party but-"

Alex interrupted you by lightly putting his hand on your arm, his thumb caressing the soft material of your shirt, "No, no, not at all... it's much better than the trash they're playing" He noticed his hand on your arm, and you smiled as he took his hand away very shyly, as if he had to ask if it was ok even to do that, you crossed your eyes and he look down to the floor scratching the back of his head, "I-I..." He clears his throat, "Sorreh.... I know the DJ, he's an old mate, I can tell him to play some smiths for you" You see the way his body moves closer to yours, how his shoulders move unsteadily as he breathes, meaning his heart is beating fast, his eyes looking at you with hope, and you realized... someone has a crush on you.

"That would be great, thank you Alex" You and him head towards the door after throwing away your cigarettes, he opens the door for you and closes it once you are inside the building, you smile at him as your eyes crossed again, and you take initiative to grab his hand as no one was watching.

Getting involved with your co-workers was never an option for you, all the men that worked here were bitter and boring, always bragging about their money, faking a smile every time they talked about their marriages just to proceed to flirt with all the women at the copier room. You didn't have anything bad to say about Alex, he was a dork, a bit shy and awkward yet he was the most interesting and likable person in your office. He made himself present with little actions, he sometimes dropped by your desk to leave you a bagel or doughnut since you worked in the cubicle next to his, but you weren't the only one who received those little acts, so you thought nothing about it, he hardly even knew your name, but he always smiled at you whenever he saw you.

For all you knew, he was single, and he's very reserved, you only ever see him talking with Nick or Jamie, the drinks in you made your rules bend a bit, maybe see where this gets you, maybe nothing would happen, but if it did, you wouldn't feel bad about it at all.

The only rule that had to be respected was, not being seen flirting with him, rumors spread faster than the speed of light in your office, and you didn't want to ruin this little spark between you two for just one night.

As you and Alex step into the elevator, you drop his hand, being on opposite corners of the elevator, you cheekily smile at him, he looks visibly disappointed at how you dropped his hand. When the doors opened again, you two walked side by side, keeping a reasonable but choking distance from each other as if he was agreeing to your rules without you even having to tell him. As you walked past the people you stepped into the disco-style dancefloor with squares of neon lights, and Alex walked forward to the DJ, saying hi to the guy with fuzzy curly messy hair, black headphones on his neck, grey sweatpants, and funny sunglasses.

He whispers something to his ear, and the guy nods and they switch the music. You hear the hypnotic sound of the intro of 'How Soon Is Now?' by The Smiths, you're lightly divided by people, but he's still able to watch you dance, and you look beautiful as you do. He sees you smiling, laughing, and having fun with the other girls, but your eyes are only on him, and his on yours.

Alex wasn't a man of many words, but ever since you had come into the office, a part of his heart had started to beat so rapidly, that he always turned to look at you whenever you untied your tight ponytail and let your hair fall, whenever you stretched your back and he could see the outline of your chest peek through your shirt, he was gone. He never tried to speak to you, he was too self-conscious to do so, he lived all of his fantasies of you and him in his head, he had the sound of your voice engraved on his head. Whenever you dropped something he was always there to pick it up and hand it to you, or when the printer was out of paper he was the only one that gave you some new paper to work on, every day when he arrived with fresh goods he made sure you were the first to get the warmest piece or the biggest slice. He did all of that, but you didn't think it was out of a crush, you thought it was him just being nice, and man if he could tell you how wrong you were.

In his head, you two had thrown away all of the people and there was only you and him dancing to some old music that no one thought was fit for the occasion, but you thought there was no better timing than this one, but the fun ends as you feel someone's breath on your neck, one of your supervisors drunkenly whispers close to your ear...

"That skirt fits your bum very well" You rolled your eyes and walked away, not saying another word, Alex following you closely. He catches you at the elevator just in time sliding inside.

"Hi," He says out of breath, you giggle and he brushes his hair away, "Where are we going?" You smiled as you heard the excitement of his voice.

"Well, I was planning to go the rooftop again..." You say looking down to the floor, he saw how that man had whispered to your ear something that woke up a flaming rage inside you, something so profoundly disgusting, you just wanted to get away as fast as you could.

"I have a better idea..." You smile, he presses down at the button, and he waits patiently in the opposite corner, facing you with a smile, you wonder in your head where he was taking you, while he was battling in his head what else could he say to keep you interested, he thought he could bore you at any given time. The doors of the office were open, the lights were completely down, and only the lights of the city that shone through the cracks of the curtains could show you two the way. He noticed you were afraid to step inside, but he grabbed your hand and pulled you in, "The cameras are down for the night, don't worry love, no one's gunna 'now we were here"

You smiled, "I'm not worried about that... just not a big fan of the dark..." You giggled and he played along with you, he grabbed your hand tighter, making your cheeks lightly blush as you walked into his cubicle, you sat on his desk while he pulled from a corner a carton box and took out a big bottle of whisky, "I didn't take you as a bad boy, Al"

"Well, this is the only thing that takes some of me headaches from when me and Jamie stay late doin' those bloody Excel sheets" Then he takes out from his pocket his MP3 connecting it to the little speaker next to his desk, playing more music for you as he quickly goes to the break room and fetches you a plastic cup and a soda. He sits on his chair and pours you some coke and whisky, and when he severs you a good amount of alcohol he hands you the cup and grabs the bottle touching the edge of the bottle with your cup and you both drink away.

"Thanks... I couldn't handle more wine... needed something stronger" You smile at him, and he brushes his long hair away.

"Do you wanna know something else about the office?" You smile and nod your head, fixing your hair to the side, he shuffles on his chair and you hear the sound of his lighter coming off, he puts a cigarette in his mouth and lights it, blowing the smoke up directly without causing the fire alarm to go off.

"What the fuck?!" You both break into laughter, "Oh my God!-" He lightly shushes you to make you talk quieter, you keep laughing until your abdomen hurts, and you sip on your drink once more, "Imagine the day I decide to set my supervisor's chair on fire... God"

"He's a dickhead" You nod your head.

"I don't even wanna say anythin' else, I mean he doesn't touch me or anything but that doesn't mean he cannot say anything to me... which is what angers me" He nods his head, turning on the lamp next to his computer, "Thanks"

"I wanted to see you while you're talking" He smiles, and you lightly blush once more, "Next time he says anything to you, why don't we put some tacks on his desk?" You giggle together, you can't help but stare at the way the corners of his mouth rise to make that cute smile appear, you like how discreet he was, lightly grazing your hand whenever he laughed, or how his eyes sweep down to gaze your body.

"I was wrong about you Al," You say, he drags his chair closer to you very slowly so you don't notice but you do, and you don't mind it, "You're the only interesting person in this office"

"Why is that? You're always laughing with Brian at the copier" You stare at him with a cheeky grin.

"Are you jealous or something?" You tease him, and he stutters into his words trying to fix his mistake.

"No, I just thought that... never mind" He looked away, taking another sip of the bottle, you grab the cigarette trapped in between his fingers, taking a drag and staring at him deeply.

"He's just a funny guy, there's nothin' much going on with me" His eyes light up, so after all, you weren't the only one who was concerned about him being single or not.

"I'm glad," He blurs out, making you both smile, "What is so interesting about me anyway?" You bit your bottom lip, taking a big sip from his bottle of whiskey, the liquor scratching your throat but it goes down easily once you sip on your coke.

"I mean, isn't it obvious?" You smile at him, starting to feel a bit dizzy, he takes a big chug of his bottle while you talk, "I just know that you don't say everything that you think, there's more to you"

"You're not far from the truth," He says nudging his head and leaning closer to you, resting his elbow on his desk next to your leg, you saw his face properly now, and he was a dream.

"Why? Is there something you want to say to me, Alex?" You teased leaning in closer to his face, your hand almost touching his, you could smell his cologne now, the space in between you two almost being none.

"I'm afraid there aren't enough words for that" He looks down to the slit in your shirt, your arm squeezing your tits together, he could see your black lace bra perfectly, he had this insatiable need for you, "But as you know already, I am not a man of many words, I take actions" His eyes looked down to your lips, licking his, already drooling to get a taste of your lips, until you suddenly pulled away, scratching the back of your head, "Wait, what happened?"

"If this is going to happen, we can't kiss"

"But..." There has to be a but always.

"I'm not gonna do it if we're gonna be awkward in the mornin'" You cross your arms sitting comfortably on the desk.

"I'm not like that," He says with a smile, but he sees your position and your limits, he just wanted a little bit of you, from the moment he saw you outside all by yourself under the moonlight with your beautiful eyes and lips smiling to him he knew he had to strip out of his costume and talk to you at that moment, he needed and wanted you now than anything, "If you don't want me to kiss you, can I at least touch you?" You bit your lower lip, sitting upright, his eyes only looking at you and not anywhere else begging you to say yes, he desires you with a big ache, you see it right in his eyes, just as transparent as glass.

"Yes.." He cups your cheeks and his face approaches yours, looking at you with lust, his lips peck the inner corner of your lips, traveling up to your earlobe, his fingers lightly playing with your hair, and his lips kissing your neck very gently at first, but then he licks his lips, kissing your neck with big wet kisses all over the place, sniffing every last bit of your perfume. He kicks away his chair, standing up to run his hands down your sides, unbuttoning your shirt gently, sneaking his hands to your bra, kneading your tits and squeezing them hard, you sigh and he breathes in your quiet moans and sighs like smoke, letting it consume him from the inside out.

"You're so fuckin' beautiful" He whispers into your ear, kissing the left side of your chest, where your heart is, you try to fight the urge to kiss him, but impatiently, he's in great need to show you real pleasure, to tear down your rules and let him taste your mouth, there was nothing he desired more in that moment.

You untuck your shirt, letting him enjoy the taste of your skin, and his hands feel your bare skin, his hair lightly tickling your neck, and you couldn't escape the need to run your hands thru his soft curls, lightly pulling on his hair as he lets your tits spill out from your bra, sucking on them and nibbling your nipples with his teeth, his tongue licking and his mouth sucking every inch of your skin, leaving red bruises on your chest so you don't forget who's been there the next morning.

He momentarily pulls away from you, his lips tearing off your skin like scar tissue on your knees, "What?-"

"You were right, love," He says, the look in his eyes sending shivers all over your body, "I haven't told you everything"

"What else have you got to say to me?" His hands slowly travel down to your legs, riding up your skirt until they unravel your black lace underwear.

"I've been watching you ever since you came here, every day, every time you felt exhausted and you stretch your back against the chair, I just want to make that go away... make you feel brand new... drop a note and tell you to meet me in the bathroom, and make you sigh out of pleasure and not from being tired, I only see you" His eyes dug in yours as he kneeled in front of you, "Maybe you think I'm quiet and dorky, but you don't even know for how long I've been thinking of you like this" His knuckles pull your soaking wet panties to the side, his eyes watching you as his fingers enter your body and his lips suck on your pussy harshly, slowly your orgasms started to get louder and louder each time his fingers rimmed your walls. Shamelessly he licks your pussy up, swallowing every ounce of the wetness that leaks out of you, "You're so fuckin' tight babe, taste so delicious"

"Fuck... please, don't stop!" You push his head in between your legs, starting to feel that ache getting bigger and bigger as he sucks right at the spot you needed hard, his fingers fuck your pussy faster, filling up that hole so well, more wetness rushes out from your legs, your end is yet to come, you feel it crawling up from your belly to your chest, starting to form in your throat as a scream until he takes his mouth off from your warmed up cunt, leaving you to breathless and needy for more.

He covers your mouth with his hand, sliding down his fingers covered in your arousal into your mouth, your lips sucking them hard until he makes you gag around them, pulling them out from your mouth with a string of saliva, "Can you be quiet for me?" He says it in such an easy way you're so amazed.

"Mhm," You bit your bottom lip.

"Tell me babe... are you gonna let me fuck you or are you just gonna pretend your pussy isn't drooling for some of it?" Your cheeky smile is no competition for him, he's certain you're in great need of more than just fingers and sucking.

You grab the buckle of his belt, undoing it very slowly, your hand palming his hard-on, you smiled as you felt the size and weight of his cock, biting your bottom lip as you take him out of his boxers and see him on the flesh. The tip of his cock leaked some wetness, he sighed as you give his veiny cock a few strokes, the tip of your thumb rubbing down his head, spreading it all over his cock. His hands cover your mouth pushing your head back and his tip rims your clit, lubing up his cock with your juices. You were trying to find a way to get more pleasure from him but the only way was right in front of you, "You know what to say babe... don't act like a dumb little cunt"

Your eyes lock in his, his lips a few inches close to yours, to kiss your lips, "Fuck me, Alex, please..." You bite your lower lip as the tip of his cock slides down tightly inside you, making you sigh. His fingers dig into your thighs, and you rock yourself against him, your elbow in the desk while the other holds Alex's shoulder tightly, his hand gripping the wall and the other one in your lower back. He rocks his hips against yours, fucking you slowly and passionately, the tip of your nose against his, he liked to watch your pupils dilate as he buries himself deep inside you.

"I loved leaving you just like that... soaked in all of your juices for me cock to slip inside you... God, you're so fuckin' wet for me... you fuckin' cock lovin' whore"

"Fuck you" You pant, "Fuck you Alex" You push your hips against his harder, his hands scattered in the back of your head, wrapping his arm around you, driving his cock in and out of you so hard, you were slowly losing yourself in his arms, enjoying how good he's fucking you.

"You love it," He says with a grin on his lips, his lips moaning against yours, grazing each other, laying one in another, but so far from being sealed together, that kept him on the verge, everything being strictly physical, the desire of wanting the feeling of your lips around his will bother him for the rest of the night.

Your tits bounce against his chest, sweat drips down from his forehead, and he's forcing himself to handle longer just for you to come on his cock so hard your whole body would feel light and high in the sky. You grip his shoulder tightly, holding yourself up with your hand, his fingers wrapped around your neck as he feels your pussy dragging him in, getting tighter with each stroke of his cock in your walls. His thumb went down in between your legs, rubbing your clit in tight little circles, forcing you to come, your abdomen pushing out your last cry of pleasure, and you choked out a little sigh of relief.

Alex was fast to pull out of you, you watch how his hand made a fist around his cock, and you didn't want him to finish like that. You willingly get down on your knees, and blow him thoroughly, "Jeeesus fuckin' christ... fuck!" He made a fist with your hair, "You want me to cum in your mouth, babe?" You hummed as a yes, sucking him harder as he drove your head back and forward. He drove his hips into your mouth, pushing your head until the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat making you gag all over him, feeling him come inside your mouth in hot spurts at the feeling of your soft plump lips. You swallowed without him having to say it, "Mmm... fuuckin' hell, that was..."

"Really good," You said, he helped you get to up from the ground, holding hands and smiling at each other.

"You're ok? Your knees don't hurt or anything?" You giggled lightly, feeling a little strange about how much he cared for those little things.

"No, no, I'm alright" You turned to fix your blause, putting each button back on, and when you faced him back, you saw him staring at you with his big puppy eyes in awe, "What?"

"You've... um, your eye... I'll fix it" He grabbed the edge of his sleeve, he was wearing a basic white button-up shirt, denim jeans, and a belt. He cleaned the stain in your eye from the crying, and while you fixed your hair, he put everything in his desk back in order.

"Thank you, Al," You said with an honest smile, "I had fun"

"Sounds like a goodbye," He says with a fainted smile.

"No... it's not, I'll see you tomorrow, right?" He fakes a smile and says yes with his head, before you head out, he grabs you by the wrist and pulls you in to give you a warm hug, you lean back to get a better look at him and say, "Sweet dreams, Al"

"You too" You break the hug, leaving the confused man with his big brain and questions all by himself.

When he drove to his apartment and laid down on his bed, he grabbed his phone, wanting to send you a message, but what type of message? You said you were ok, even said you had fun, but he was hooked. He was aching to know more about you, to know what you think. The rest of the night he kept looping around in his head every word he said to you, and everything you and him had done. He didn't want to sound so needy, but at least he wanted to talk to you.

The next day at the office when Alex sat on his chair, he smiled, vividly remembering what had happened the night before. But he knew something felt strange, he felt something was missing, this feeling was bittersweet, and you came right in through the door with your black low-waist pants, heels, and baby pink shirt with some buttons undone, he knew exactly what he needed to do.

There was a moment when everyone was working quietly in the cubicle, and he pushed himself up from his chair, walking through your cubicle he dropped a little purple post-it note at your desk.

"Break room"

That's all the letter said.

You put the note away in your purse, walking to meet him, you closed the door and he was waiting for you behind it.

"Hey," You said with a gentle smile.

"I- um" You sighed, thinking you knew well what he wanted to say. So, you cut him up before he did.

"Nothin' happened last night, you can forget about it... we had fun, let's leave it like that" But before you could escape him he pulled you back in by your wrist, making shivers run up your arms.

"No, I wasn't gonna-" He smiles very kindly to you, making you feel warm, "I just wanted to ask you out for dinner, tonight... if that's ok?" A little smile crawls from the corner of your mouth.

He liked how you looked with that little smile in the corner of your lips, that little blush creeping up your cheeks, "Yeah, yes"

You both smile at each other very shyly but happily, you nod your head and slowly take a step back but he leans in, his arm wrapping around your waist, "Now that we're sober... is the kissing policy revocable? or..." You break into laughter and take a step closer to him, he leans in and presses his lips against yours. You couldn't believe how just a simple little kiss on the lips could feel so electrifying, his lovely warm lips open to kiss you properly, he tasted the fresh cappuccino in your mouth with soft cinnamon in your breath, mixing with the taste of your lipstick. He tasted like black coffee and a cigarette bright and early in the morning, a mixture that makes one become an addict.

When you pulled back some blush creeps into your cheeks, "I'll see you later then..." You said.

"Last one before you leave" He pulled you in, giving you another soft kiss on your lips, biting down on your bottom lip before your lips tore apart.

A/N

I'll be posting more of your requests soon! I love you all, and I've taken some time to make the playlists fitted for the chapters, some will be longer than the others but I hope you enjoy them all.

#arctic monkeys #matt helders #jamie cook #nick omalley #alex turner smut #arctic monkeys one shots #alex turner fan fic #alex turner one shots #alex turner #alex turner x reader #alex turner x you #lana del rey #oasis

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cluedoenthusiast · 1 month

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:D & :|

#james said this was ‘me and my boyfriend who hates me’#for the first one #jamie cook #alex turner #arctic monkeys

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indiee19 · 4 months

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From The Backseat

Alex Turner x reader

Summary: At a party, (AM!) Alex takes you to his car and fucks you

Word Count: 2,030

a/n: i missed writing so much. part 2 is being written at the moment. enjoy!!

✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑ ✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

The music was loud. The drinks were strong. And you were having a blast. You ended up at this L.A. party with three of your friends after they asked for you to join since you hadn't been out in a while. They were excited to say the least when you said yes to their request.

"Honey!!" Your friend Bianca shouted over the blaring music. "Are you having a shit ton of fun because I sure as hell am!" Bianca was one of the three friends you came with, the others being Naomi and Chloe.

You replied with, "Yes, B, I'm having a shit ton of fun." She smiled happily, hugging you. She absolutely reeked of whiskey and vodka. "How much have you had to drink?" You asked.

She giggled. "Oh, just a teeny, tiny amount," she said while pinching her fingers to show 'how little' she drank, slightly leaning on you. Bianca's head perked up though when she saw a handsome man staring at you. "Oh, honey, I think someone likes what he sees," she pointed at the stranger staring at you from across the room.

The stranger was wearing black pants, black boots and a white button up that had very few buttons done up on it. His hair was dark and styled back into a gelled quiff. He looked extremely fucking hot. In his right hand was a glass of what looked like whiskey. And a ring adorned one of his pinky fingers.

Just as he was staring at you, you began to stare at him. Your eyes met for just a split second and immediately you blushed and looked away. Bianca noticed. "And I can see that you like what you're looking at, too," she smirked.

The stranger smirked and placed his glass down on the table beside him. He began to walk over to you. The colored lights from the party illuminated him and his features, making his sharp jawline stand out even more. The lights accentuated his nose and you could see his biceps slightly through the material of his shirt. God, he was fine.

He finally reached you and leaned his arm against the bar behind you. "I'm Alex. And you are?" His voice was thick with a Yorkshire accent and that made him even more hot. You took a moment to answer him, still in disbelief that he was talking to you. But you eventually told him your name.

"And I-I'm Bianca, if you cared to know. Which you don't. So I'm just gonna go find Naomi and Chloe," Bianca said, embarrassed that she introduced herself like that. You and Alex laughed. "Have fun, honey," she said as she walked away. You were absolutely positive she sobered up just to say that and see your reaction.

"Sorry about Bianca, she's a little drunk," you laughed. He chuckled out, "It's no problem, me friends are a little drunk, too."

You laughed because of the irony. Neither you or Alex were drunk. Yeah, you'd both had your fair share of drinks, but you weren't drunk by any means. Hell, neither of you were barely tipsy. Yet, all of your friends were just a little drunk or tipsy.

"I seen you from across the room," he said.

"I saw you staring at me," you replied, a small smirk appearing upon your face.

"You were staring, too," he smirked back. Before, you couldn't really smell his cologne but now you really could. The smell of it and his voice was all you focused on as you looked at him and him only. "What about it?" You were quick to reply, trying to sound confident in front of Alex.

"Well, you see, we both have something in common," he raised his eyebrow at you.

"And what might that be?"

Alex leaned in closer. As he spoke you could feel his breath on your neck. "We both like what we see, and I think you and me both would like to act on it."

The way he spoke drove you mad. His voice alone got you wet. Your eyes met his and you bit your lip. "Would you like that, doll?" He asked, slightly deepening his voice. You sighed, "Yes." It was just loud enough for Alex to hear.

His free hand reached up towards your neck and he whispered in your ear. "Then, follow me so I can fuck the shit out of you." That did you in.

Mere minutes later, you were pushed up against a wall by the bathrooms. No one was around and you and Alex were too eager to wait any longer. His hands went to your thighs and forced you to jump and wrap your legs around his waist. He was about to carry you into the bathroom, and then he heard someone coming towards you both. "Fuck," he sighed. He had to think quickly and think quickly he did. He sat you down on the ground and grabbed your hand. "Follow me," he said.

You asked, "Where are we going?"

"To my car. I'm gonna fuck you in the backseat," he quickly replied. Fuck. The idea of getting fucked in his car riled you up. Fucking in the bathroom was one thing because there were walls and no one could see you. Fucking in the car meant that you could be caught just by someone walking past you both.

He was quick to lead you out to his car, more eager than you were to fuck. Quickly, he unlocked the black car and opened the door to the backseat. "Get in," he said, motioning for you to get in as quickly as you could. He followed and grabbed you by the neck. "The one good thing about fucking in a car instead of the bathroom is that you can be as loud as you want," he smirked. He pulled you in for a kiss and his hands went to work to get your blouse off. He pushed it off your shoulders and threw it into the front seat so it'd be out of your way.

You undid the few buttons on his shirt and threw it into the front seat as well. Alex's hands started to caress your chest and he pulled away and asked if he could take your bra off. You nodded and he was quick to do so. He started to caress your breasts and he dipped your head down to bring one of your nipples into his mouth. Your hand entangled in his hair, slightly messing it up, pulling on it. One of his hands fondled your other breasts, and the other went down to your shorts, tugging on the button as if he were asking if he could take them off.

He lifted his head away from your breast and he was quick to get rid of your heels. Then he unbuttoned your shorts, slowly pulling the zipper down, teasing you. Then he pulled them off along with your panties. "Fuck," he almost moaned. "You're so fucking hot."

He pushed you completely down on the seat and he went to kiss you, one of his hands going to tease through your folds. "Shit, you're so fucking wet. . . All for me?" He smirked.

"Y-Yes," right as you replied he pushed in two of his calloused fingers, slipping in easily from how wet you had become. You gasped at the push and closed your eyes. Slowly, he pumped his fingers in and out of you. In and out. In and out. Over and over again, getting you closer to the edge.

His head went to your neck, sucking on a spot as his thumb found your clit, rubbing circles on it. You tugged on his hair and started to moan. His fingers sped up, as did his sucking on your neck. Goddamn did he know how to use his fingers.

"I'm close," you moaned, pulling on his hair.

"Cum on my fingers, doll," he rasped out, pressing down hard on your clit whilst harshly pumping his fingers. The feeling pushed you over the edge. Moaning as your walls closed around his fingers, panting when you come down from the high.

He pulled his face away from your neck and looked at you. His lips were flushed and his hair was messed up from where you'd pulled on it. "Fuck, you're fucking hot," he said, quickly sitting up to unbutton his pants, pulling them down just far enough with his boxers to pull out his cock.

Alex was painfully hard and precum was leaking from the tip. He maneuvered himself just a little to be sitting over you before grabbing your legs and spreading them for him. One of his hands kept your leg spread open and the other went to line his cock up with your entrance. He began to push in and you were so wet that it took one thrust for him to be completely inside you.

You let out a loud moan and shut your eyes when he started to move. His hands were both now situated on your legs, holding them open and using them for leverage as he thrusts in and out. Alex was letting out loud moans, head thrown back, mouth agape. He took your legs and pushed them up as close to your chest as he could, making you feel him even deeper.

Your hands grabbed at his biceps and pulled him down to kiss you. And you don't know how, but he felt even bigger and deeper than previously. Your hands went to his back and started to scratch down it. He sped up when you did. "Fuck . . . fuck me, you feel good," Alex moaned. He pulled you over so that you could be on top of him.

He grabbed your hips when you were taking too long to move and he started to pull you up and down on his cock. Every time he pulled you down onto him, he thrust upwards, making sure that you feel all of him.

Then, his thumb went to your clit, rubbing hard and fast. "Oh, fuck," you said, hands gripping his shoulders. "I'm gonna cum," you said.

"Cum all on my cock, doll," he rubbed your clit harder and thrust as fast as he could. One final thrust and harsh flick to your clit was enough to push you over the edge. You let out a loud moan and threw your head back, tightening your grip on his shoulders as he kept moving you on his cock. Your walls fluttered around him and you collapsed against as he still kept moving.

"Fuck, I'm about to cum. . . Where do you want it?" Alex moaned.

"In my mouth," you said. He pushed you off of him and you got on your knees to take him into your mouth. "Fuck," he moaned out, hand gripping your hair and pulling it to move you up and down on him. Your mouth was warm around him, making him moan at the feeling.

His tip hit the back of your throat every time you bobbed your head. You hollowed your cheeks around him, licking his tip. "Fuck, your throat feels amazing," he moaned, starting to thrust his hips into your mouth. Then, you felt his cock twitch in your mouth, and he finally came, thrusting wildly into your mouth, holding you down on him.

Once he came down, he pulled you off his cock and pulled you in for a kiss. He began to deepen it before you pulled away to catch your breath. "Can't get enough of you, I swear," he said in a lower voice tone. "Would fuck you all night if I could."

You bit your lip at the idea. Alex noticed and lightly chuckled. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He smirked.

"Y-Yes," you said.

"Why don't we take this back to my place then?"

#alex turner #arctic monkeys #matt helders #jamie cook #miles kane #the last shadow puppets #alex #turner #alex turner x reader #alex turner smut #nick omalley #miles knae #am #am arctic monkeys #alex turner am #alex turner arctic monkeys

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