#Timothée chalamet x original female character
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Moodboard by @softhecreator
Mr. Chalamet
chapter nine: don’t be ridiculous
AO3 info one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven epilogue
All my work is 18+.
If only I could just read your cursive mind and know what you’re thinking, know what you’re needing, I can try by just guessing what’s inside. But it’s never that easy, so please come and tell me; are you in or are you out? Are you still searching for something you haven’t found? I know it’s hard for you, but you’re killing me right now, so will you love me or let me down?- We The Kings, Love Me or Let Me Down
Elle had a school trip early in the second semester. The week leading up to it had been so hectic for her that Tim hadn’t been able to come home, not even for a night. So when Elle finally left, Lea was beyond excited for some alone time with Tim.
The night Elle left, Lea was in the kitchen of their house, checking on the gumbo—Tim had never had homemade gumbo, which, as a Cajun, Lea found absolutely mind boggling, like, how could he go thirty-six years of his life completely gumboless?—when she heard the door open.
“Baby?” he called.
“In the kitchen!”
Footsteps, and then a contented sigh. “It’s so good to be home with you. What’s that smell, by the way?”
“Gumbo,” Lea informed him. “My mom’s is better than this will probably be, especially so young, but it’s going pretty good so far.”
“Young?” He sounded confused.
“It’s supposed to be aged a bit,” Lea explained, ignoring the steam as she stirred. “The older it gets, the better it is.”
“Like wine?”
She shrugged. “I guess.”
She heard him step closer, pressing himself against her back and wrapping his arms around her waist. She leaned into him, her eyes fluttering shut, almost in relief.
He kissed the top of her head. “I missed you.”
She hummed. “You just saw me earlier today.”
“I mean I missed being alone with you,” he amended. “Being able to hold you like this.”
She sighed blissfully. “Yeah. I missed it, too.”
“Remember the last time we were alone in a kitchen?” She could hear the grin in his voice when he spoke.
A smile twitched at her lips. “We’ve been alone in more than one kitchen on numerous occasions.”
He moved a hand down to her hip, squeezing it through the soft fabric of her house dress. “Maybe, but have I fucked you in the kitchen before?”
Lea exhaled slowly. “Not since the first time.”
“And certainly not in our kitchen,” he pointed out, leaning down and kissing her neck. “That won’t do, will it?”
She licked her lips. “N— no.”
Tim inhaled deeply, gripping her jaw and murmuring, “Tell me you love me.”
“I love you,” she breathed. Suddenly, she recalled something he’d told her just before they got together, the last time they were in a kitchen like this. “I love you, Mr. Chalamet.”
He froze, hands that had been hiking her dress up her thighs pausing in their movements. “Lea, you— you— fuck.”
Suddenly, she was spun around, his hands sliding into her hair as he slammed his mouth against hers. She let out a startled “Mmf!” before the sound turned into a moan.
He practically tore her dress in his haste to pull it up around her thighs, yanking his pants down past his hips in a similar manner. “Fuck,” he groaned, looking at her pale pink panties that revealed more than they covered. “Take those off, sweetheart.” When she didn’t manage it fast enough, he added, “C’mon, Lea. I own that sweet little body, don’t I, baby?”
“Yes,” she assured him with a hasty nod.
“Of course I do,” he murmured, yanking the hemline of her dress down along with the cups of her bra. He grabbed one of her breasts as soon as it was bare and fondled it roughly, his fingers squeezing hard enough to bruise. She hoped they did. “Gonna fuck you now. Show you who owns you.”
She kicked her panties aside, winding her arms around his neck to get closer to him. “You own me,” she promised. “I’m all yours.”
“I know,” he agreed softly, grabbing fistfuls of her ass and giving it a few good slaps for good measure. She yelped at the sting, the sound of half pleasure, half pain. He smirked when he heard her delight, smacking her breast right over her nipple. She moaned loudly as he watched her breast jiggle. “God, you’re so sexy.”
“Want you,” she whined needily. “Want you in me, please.”
“Poor baby,” he said condescendingly. “So desperate to get fucked. So desperate for me.”
“Yes,” she admitted.
He hauled her in closer, kissing her hungrily and backing her up against the kitchen counter. Picking her up and depositing her onto it, he didn’t break their kiss, reaching down to spread her legs so he could step between them.
“C’mon, sweetheart,” he murmured against her lips, aligning himself with her entrance. “Lemme have it.”
She cupped his cheek, leaning back against the wall behind the cabinet, and wrapping her legs around his waist. “Want you to have me,” she told him softly. “I love you.”
“Love you, too, baby.” He pushed into her with a groan. “Fuck.”
“Exactly,” she giggled, twining her fingers into his hair.
He chuckled, leaning forward to mouth at her neck. “If you’re capable of making jokes, I probably need to fuck you harder, huh?”
“Mhm,” she moaned as he pulled out only to thrust back in roughly.
“Fuck,” he grunted. “Say it again, sweetheart.”
“H— huh?” she stuttered, dazed.
“Call me that again.”
Finally understanding, she managed, “Mr. Chalamet, I—“
“That’s it,” he practically growled. “Again, darling. So fuckin’ hot.”
“Mr. Chalamet,” Lea moaned, throwing her head back so it thudded slightly against the wall behind her. “God, yes, I want— I want—“
“What do you want?” he murmured, mouthing wetly at her throat. “Ask for the world and it’s yours. Just tell me what you want.”
“I wanna have your baby,” she admitted with a whine. “Please, I—“
“I know, Lea,” he told her, the gentleness of his voice at odds with his sharp thrusts. “Soon. Just a little bit longer, my love.”
“No,” she insisted. “Don’t wanna wait, want it now, I wanna have a baby with you right now, want your baby, don’t wanna wait, I want it I want it I want it I want it—“
“God, Lea,” he muttered, pulling her closer to him. “Patience, my greedy little girl.”
She shook her head urgently. “No, now.”
“Patience,” he reiterated firmly, fucking into her punishingly. “Much as I’d love to fuck a baby into you now, you need to finish school first.” He paused before adding, “And I’d like to be married to you before we have a baby.”
Lea froze. “You— you wanna marry me?” Her breath was caught in her chest as if she had forgotten how to breathe.
“Of course I do,” he murmured softly, kissing her neck. “My love, my sweet, darling girl. Of course I want to marry you.”
She cupped his cheek, pulling his face up to hers so she could press her mouth against his with urgency. “I wanna marry you, too, Tim,” she admitted, “but I wanna have your baby now. I don’t care that you’re already married. I don’t care that I’m still in school.”
“Lea,” he sighed in exasperation, the thrust of his hips slowing into more of a rocking motion than him fucking into her the way he had been.
“Please,” she begged. She knew he wouldn’t cave, so she added, “Please, Mr. Chalamet. Get me pregnant.”
Tim surged towards her, claiming her mouth again. “I will, darling,” he swore. “As soon as I can, I will.”
“Now,” she insisted, kissing him again. “Now, please.”
“You’re making it very difficult for me to be sensible, my love,” he admonished, still rocking into her, filling her deliciously.
“I don’t care if it’s sensible,” Lea informed him. “I love you. I want this with you.”
“You’ll have it, sweetheart,” he promised, cupping her face and stroking her cheek lovingly. “I’ll give you as many babies as you want. I swear I will. But I need you to be patient for me. Alright? Can you do that for me, darling? Please?”
She pouted. “I don’t wanna.”
“I know,” he chuckled softly. “As many as you want, love. Just be patient for me.”
“Fine,” she grumbled in annoyance.
“I just want what’s best for you,” he informed her.
“You’re what’s best for me.”
His lips quirked into a small smile, and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close even as he moved within her. “Soon, sweetheart. I’ll give you a baby soon, I promise.”
“Tim,” she sighed blissfully, leaning into him. “F— feels good.”
“Yeah?” he murmured with a smile against her hairline, leaning down to kiss her again. She arched up into his touch, her lips falling open in a soft gasp when he drove into her a little harder. “That feel good, darling?”
“Yes,” Lea breathed, her toes curling from how incredible it felt, the delicious way he was filling her. The countertop was cold against her skin, a sharp contrast next to the warmth of his body, his touch, but it was damn near impossible to focus on anything but the way he felt, the way he made her feel.
“Tell me you love me,” he prompted again, his voice soft and gentle but still commanding in that ridiculously—obnoxiously, really—way he always managed to pull off.
“I love you,” she told him without hesitation, and was immediately rewarded with his lips on hers. He rocked into her, sucking her lower lip between his teeth before slipping his tongue into her mouth.
“I love you, too,” he rasped out, sliding a hand down to squeeze her hip briefly before trailing back up to grip her breast. “God, you’re so sexy.”
She pulled his face closer to hers, kissing him hungrily as he fondled her breast and rolled his hips. “Please don’t stop.”
“I won’t,” he promised into her mouth, rocking into her slowly but harshly. “Not gonna stop until you cum, sweetheart.”
Lea whined at the thought of him bringing her to orgasm, at the way it felt every time he did. “Will you, please?” she asked quietly, her nails digging into the skin of his shoulders.
“You wanna cum already?” he chuckled softly. “Greedy little girl.”
“‘m sorry,” she mumbled, embarrassed.
“Don’t apologize, baby,” Tim panted, reaching between them to rub her clit. “I want you to feel good.”
“You always make me feel good,” she gasped out, arching into the way his touch shot sparks through her veins. “Fuck, that’s so good.”
“Yeah?” He bent down to mouth wetly at her throat. “You like that, angel? You wanna cum for me?”
“Uh huh,” she whined, her toes already curling from the pleasure. “I want— I want—“
“I know what you want,” he assured her lowly. “I know what you need. And you know I’ll give it to you, don’t you, love?”
Lea nodded jerkily. “I know.”
“You know I’ll always take care of my sweet girl.” He paused, inhaling sharply when he felt her clenching around him. “You’re getting close, aren’t you?”
She nodded again. “‘m gonna cum, Tim, I—“
“That’s it, sweetheart,” he murmured against her skin, rubbing her clit faster. “Cum on my cock. Feels so good when you do, so pretty when you cum for me.”
Her body tensed, her muscles somehow spamming yet unable to move, and she burst with a sharp gasp of his name.
“You feel so fuckin’ good,” he grunted, driving into her harder, moaning into her neck. “God, baby. I’m gonna cum inside you, gonna cum in this tight little pussy—“
“Yes, Tim,” she encouraged softly. “Cum inside me.”
“Fuck—“ he moaned, his thrusts slowly before halting altogether.
It took a few minutes for them to come back to themselves, and he murmured something inaudible against her skin between soft, sweet kisses.
“Huh?” she asked dazedly, blinking in an effort to try and regain her bearings.
“Said I love you,” he mumbled. “Love you so fuckin’ much, baby.”
Lea smiled blissfully. “I love you, too.”
Several minutes later, he was leaning back against the kitchen table, his long legs stretched out in front of him in a position that was far too attractive to really be legal, watching her as she righted her clothing. “Do you actually wanna have a baby now?”
Lea blushed. “I mean… I love you, so it’d be nice, but…”
“It’s not a good time,” he agreed, “but you’re right, it would be nice. Amazing, actually.” He sighed and changed the subject. “Have you ever been to LA?” The question was casual, his gaze lazy.
“No, why?”
“‘Cause you’ve got another couple weeks before your classes start back up. We should make use of them, don’t you think?”
Lea stared at him in disbelief. “You want me to come to LA with you?”
He shrugged. “Yeah, it’ll be fun.”
She squinted suspiciously at him. “And would you take me on the jet again?”
“You mean the jet with the private bedroom suite, complete with a shower big enough to fuck you in and a tub where you can ride me? That jet?” He raised his eyebrows at her. “Yes, we would be taking that.”
“Where would we be staying, exactly?”
He grinned. “I know a place.”
As it turned out, the place Tim knew was a house. As in he’d bought her another fucking house. If one could even call an 8,300 square foot estate on .33 acres a house. She did not call it a house, she called it a mansion. Or palace. Palace also worked.
It was almost mediterranean in style; with whitewashed stucco, exposed beams, and colorful tiling, their bedroom was the highlight. It had both patio and balcony access, as did their bathroom, and the whole house overlooked the coast. She felt like a princess nestled away in a palace by the sea.
They were only gonna be there for a couple weeks, planning on flying back to New York a few days before her classes started.
She was getting dressed one day, trying to fasten her bra. “Jesus Christ,” she grumbled in frustration.
“What is it, love?” Tim asked cheerfully, sticking his head into the walk-in closet she’d set her suitcase up in.
“My damn nipples are too sensitive for me to even freakin’ touch,” she griped. “This doesn’t even happen if I get my period, and it can’t be PMS anyway; my birth control fixes that.”
He stared at her with wide eyes, swallowing. “Weren’t, uh… weren’t you feeling nauseous when you woke up?”
“Yeah,” she grimaced. “Even coffee smelled gross. It’s weird, I love the smell of coffee.”
He continued to stare at her before finally deciding, “I’ll be back in a bit.”
Lea frowned, confused. “O… kay?”
“Take this.”
She looked down, examining the box he’d shoved into her hands. “You want me to take a pregnancy test?”
“Classic early symptoms,” he explained.
She shrugged. “Alright, I guess.”
Five minutes later, she was blinking at the little plus sign. She took another test just to be sure, this one labeled with words.
Pregnant
“T— Tim,” she called out shakily.
“Yeah?” He strolled into the bathroom, glancing over at her where she stood by the sink, staring at the tests.
“It’s positive,” he observed.
“Uh huh,” she barely managed.
“Holy shit,” he breathed.
“Yep.”
“You’re pregnant.”
“Yep,” she repeated.
Suddenly, he turned towards her and kissed her so desperately she was frozen for a moment. “You’re pregnant,” he repeated between kisses. “You’re pregnant, Lea. You’re gonna have my baby.”
She pulled back slightly, looking up at him in disbelief. “Are you… happy?”
“Are you kidding?” he laughed. “The woman I love is having my baby. I’m fuckin’ thrilled.”
“But— but we agreed we’re not ready,” she sputtered. “I’m still in school, Elle doesn’t know about us—“
He waved her off. “All that shit’s secondary. You’re having my baby. I couldn’t care less about anything outside of that.” He took a breath, thinking. “Shit, gimme— gimme a sec, alright? I’ll be right back.”
She followed after him, watching him over the railing of the balcony overlooking their bedroom as he rifled through a bedside table drawer. “What’re you doing?”
“One sec,” he said again. “Where is— ah hah!”
Turning around with a grin, he hid his hands behind his back and sauntered over to her again. “What is that?” she asked, confused.
Instead of answering her directly, he took a deep breath and walked up to join her on the balcony. “Lea,” he said slowly, “I love you. You know that, right?”
She furrowed her brow in confusion. “Yeah…?”
He nodded, and then he…
And then he lowered himself onto one knee.
Her brain short-circuited, her eyes widening. “Tim, what’re you—“
“Just… just let me talk, okay?” he pleaded softly.
“Okay,” she whispered, unable to really think.
He took his hands out from behind his back, revealing a small velvet box. “I meant to waist until everything was out in the open to do this, until the divorce was finalized, but honestly, I expected all of that to be done by now, and I don’t really feel like waiting anymore, so…” He took a deep breath, looking far more nervous than she was used to seeing him. “Okay,” he said, appearing to steel himself, “so here’s the thing. Things never worked with Lola. I’ve been in love before, yeah, but it’s never been like this.”
“Like what?” she asked, hesitant and unsure.
He tilted his head to the side thoughtfully. “Right, I guess? You just feel… well. Right. It’s like being with you is exactly what’s always been meant to happen. You’re it for me, is what I’m saying.” Another pause. “I’m in love with you. I know it’s complicated, and I know it’s probably inconvenient for you in a lot of ways, but I…” He sighed wistfully. “I don’t care about the consequences, honestly. I just want you. And now you’re gonna have my baby, so…” He opened the box, revealing a gorgeous sapphire ring that must’ve cost a fortune. “If you’ll have me, I would very much like to marry you.”
“T— Tim,” she stuttered out anxiously, “you’re already married.”
He shrugged. “Like I said, I don’t really care.”
“You can’t marry me if you’re already married to someone else,” she explained.
“Eh,” he waved her off. “Semantics. So it can’t be legal until the divorce goes through. Whatever. We’ll be married in every way that matters.”
Her head was spinning. “Is— is this just because I’m pregnant? You don’t have to ask me to marry you because of that, you know—“
“It’s not just ‘cause of that, no,” he assured her. “I did that once already. I don’t wanna do it again, and I wouldn’t ask you to marry me if I didn’t really, really want you to.” At her hesitance, he added, “And it’ll be legal as soon as we can swing it. Obviously.”
She felt dizzy. “Have you been planning this? Where did you even get that ring? When did you get that ring?”
“I got it a couple months back,” he admitted. “As soon as I knew I’d never want anybody else, I… I spoke to the jewelers at Cartier, and—“
“Timothée, you did not get me a freakin’ ring custom-made by your fancy jewelry buddies!” she hissed, astonished at the sheer amount of money he’d spent.
Tim pouted. “You deserve the world, and I want to be the one to give it to you.” He paused. “But, I mean, if you want something else or you don’t want to marry me at all—“
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she cut him off. “Nobody in their right mind would say no to that.”
He froze, appearing to stop breathing. “Does… does that mean you’ll… you actually wanna, like…”
“Of course I’ll marry you, stupid,” she told him, swiftly wiping away her tears before reaching for the ring with a shaking hand. “Gimme that.”
He smiled, gazing up at her with more adoration than she could really process, and slid the ring onto her finger.
Jumping back to his feet, he pulled her in for a kiss. She giggled, winding her arms around his neck, and the velvet ring box fell to the tiled floor.
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Exile: Insult to Injury
Previous: My Town
Pairing: Timotheé Chalamet x Reader
Genre: Angst, Slice of Life
Rating: PG15
Word Count: 3.5K
Warnings: Swearing
Summary: Timotheé begins to reckon with his decisions, and the impact his choices have not only on him, but you.
Exile Master List
Timothée sits in the doctor’s office, waiting patiently for her to utter a word. The longer he sits, the more agitated he was becoming. His outgoing personality wasn’t going to last long in this silence, no, this purgatory, where he waited patiently for some sort of relief, the person across from him unwilling to give it. It had been his mother’s idea, embarking on this journey. She was absolutely thrilled to become a grandmother, but after viewing the disarray Timothée’s life seemed to be in, had vehemently encouraged him to seek help. Pauline had agreed, talking Timothée through the process of finding the right doctor. The first attempt was a flop, some middle-aged man who looked down his nose at Timothée’s predicament. Something that he tried to describe as “good problems”. The second, a darling woman no older than 35, had understood, but didn’t feel like she had the experience to guide Timothée through this crisis. Which is how he found himself sitting in the cream-colored chair, eyes trained on the woman in front of him.
“Timothée, why don’t you start by telling me why you’ve decided to seek counseling,” Dr. Vernon said, pen resting in her hand, poised to write every last drop of the plight that is Timothée.
“I’ve been going through a lot of, uh, life changes, and I’m starting to feel a little out of control,” Timothée leaned back against the couch, grateful for a respite.
“Out of control how? Emotionally? Physically? Do you have a history of drug or alcohol abuse?” Dr. Vernon asked, running down the list of mandatory questions. Timothée didn’t mind answering, the previous doctors he’s met with have asked similar questions. Its perfunctory at this point, and he knows it. He has to answer, its tantamount to creating an accurate picture of himself.
“No drugs or alcohol abuse,” Timothée told her, the truth easily slipping from his lips. “I just became um, a father and my partner of the last, five would be six years just um, left me.”
“Is your partner the baby’s mother?” Dr. Vernon asks, pen scraping the page.
“No, no, that’s part of the issue,” Timothée could feel the early signs of tears forming, which caught him off guard. He hadn’t cried in weeks.
“Hmm, do you want to tell me what happened?” Dr. Vernon has kind eyes, gentle, inviting eyes that Timothée can tell will cause him to relinquish every detail about himself.
“Where should I start?” He scratched the back of his neck, unsure if the beginning of his crumbled relationship is the correct place to detail how far he’d fallen.
“Wherever you think is best, but I might ask for more information throughout, okay?” Dr. Vernon sipped her water out of one of those giant gallon water bottles with phrases encouraging you to drink, and time stamps to keep you on track. She would’ve made fun of it, and in this square room, the traffic of LA idling in the distance which Timothée finds all the more endearing.
“We met at a party. She was a friend of a friend. She had on this black lace halter top, with a high neck that exposed her shoulders and part of her back. She tucked it into these crisp white shorts, and had some gold sandals on, with these hexagon earrings, I love those earrings… The way the sun reflected against her skin, against her smile…” Timothée sighs, “I was just, smitten already. She was funny, so funny, and she knew this weird back catalogue of TV history that had my mind racing. I don’t believe in love at first sight, at all, but she had me that day.”
Timothée can tell this is going to take more than one session, fuck, it might take years for him to unpack the layers of their relationship. It wasn’t something he could condense into one hour, not even if he cut out all the good parts and just focused on the bad. Honestly, focusing on the bad wouldn’t take that long. The longest relationship he’d had, gone in minutes, still lingering in his mind every day.
“It started to go south when I started taking projects again,” Timothée continued.
“Things were fine until you were leaving?” Dr. Vernon asked, her first interjection.
“Yeah, yeah, when we first started out, I would be gone here and there, but nothing too long. I was on Broadway, and we were both in New York, so it was all so, easy. I took a job that took me to Australia for four months, and that’s when we decided to have an open relationship,” Timmy nodded, his recollection of that first departure murky.
“While you were in Australia?” Dr. Vernon clarified.
“When I came home, no, it was after Australia, I guess. I had another job maybe a month later in South Africa, and after that I was in Thailand for a minute,” Timothée scratches his head, unsure if he imagined the conversation earlier than it had happened, his brain confused in the haze of new parenthood.
“Whose idea was it?” Dr. Vernon wanted to know.
“Hers, well,” He took a deep breath, sorting through the rubble, “Hers. We sat down to talk about our relationship and she just, word vomited on me. She was so lonely, and upset that whenever I was home all we did was have sex,”
“Was that true?”
“Yeah, we were sort of making up for lost time,” Timothée explained, though the explanation felt flimsy in his lips.
“How did you feel?”
“I wasn’t surprised, I’d been feeling it too… Our conversations became shorter, our tempers were flaring more than they had before. We’d been together over, two years at that point and we hadn’t experienced any of the tension, the lingering resentment, the frustration at all.”
“She was resentful, or you were?” Dr. Vernon inquired, pen still poised on the page, eyes staring into his.
“Both, she was mad I was always gone, I was upset she was living her life like I wasn’t there,” Timothée expounded.
“Was she replacing you?”
“No, she was lonely,” Timothée said.
“Were you?” Dr. Vernon pushed.
“Yeah, yeah, I was,” Timothée told her.
“You decided to open your relationship? Were there rules?” Dr. Vernon’s eyes are back to the yellow legal pad where she’s been keeping track of everything Timothée says. He doesn’t know, throughout his sessions with her, if she keeps a legal pad for every one of her high paying clients or if the secrets she must have accumulated are easily accessible.
“At first, no, but then it became really fucking clear we needed them,” Timothée sipped his own water, in his own bottle which did not have any positive words or time stamps.
“Were they strict rules?” Dr. Vernon’s still writing
“She had one golden rule, and I broke it.”
Dr. Vernon tried not to think about her patients outside of her office. Her life was hers, and the time she spent outside of those four walls belonged to whomever she chose. Every so often, there is a client who no matter how diligently she tries, worms their way into her life outside of work. They worm their way into the hours when she’s not Dr. Vernon, to perch in the periphery of her mind, pulling her back to them. Throughout the months she’d been working with Timothée, her mind couldn’t help but double back on his predicament. She had her theories on why his partner had left, but until Timothée told her, they remained so. Her theories, lodged somewhere between truth and fiction, was where her concern stemmed from.
Though she thought of him often, she didn’t think of him fondly. She was filled to the brim with concern, a lingering uneasiness of what was going through his mind, of the melding of grief and joy and exhaustion that in a particular combination, could result in mania. She was concerned that every step he took outside his house would result in the meeting of his ex at a wine bar or coffee shop, that they’d cross paths at Target, baby in toe. Dr. Vernon checked for Timothée wherever she went, hoping to never run into him.
“Would you like to tell me what that rule was?” Dr. Vernon asked, pulling her back to the conversation.
“No sleeping with co-stars. It went both ways, no sleeping with coworkers of any sort,” It rolled so easily off his tongue, the rule that broke them.
“Why did you break it?”
“I was drunk, or high, I think I was both actually,” Timothée hadn’t been this embarrassed since his parents watched Call Me By Your Name.
“Was it your first slip up?” Dr. Vernon pushed.
“Yes,”
“She became pregnant?”
Timothée nods, acknowledging that the story itself is a little too predictable. It sounds made up, unreal, something that doesn’t happen out in the wild, but straight out of Hollywood. Which, in his cynical mind, it was. Two actors, fucking, girl gets pregnant, boy loses everything.
“Did you ever discuss the probability that at some point in your other forays that you might impregnate another woman, or that she might end up pregnant?” Dr. Vernon doesn’t pussyfoot around her questions, she packs a bunch and Timothée is barely able to fight back. Regardless of the prep he does the night before, the week before he finds himself in this space again, she always goes for blood.
“She had an IUD, and I always used condoms and made sure the women were on birth control… But it wasn’t, it wasn’t a major thought or part of the conversation?”
“Why not?”
“I don’t think we ever thought it would happen,” Timothée hates himself for being so basic, of course it wouldn’t happen to him, he’s Timothée Chalamet! He’s Oscar nominated; girls literally cry over him. How could he be so reckless?
“Did you exercise this privilege often?” Dr. Vernon is curious now, Timothée can see it in her hazel eyes. She’s done pressing the matter of him realizing his fallibility, more curious about the aftermath.
“Rarely, not that I didn’t have, desires, I just was never truly comfortable with it.”
“But you let her?” Dr. Vernon is surprised, an emotion Timothée hadn’t seen on her yet.
“It felt like I was either going to lose her, or cause her to resent me, which would make me hate myself. So, in order to save us, I -
“Agreed to sleep with other people,” Dr. Vernon finished.
“It was always about sex, it was never about having a third boyfriend or something, she wasn’t bringing people into our home,” Timothée explains.
“Your home?” Dr. Vernon, surprised again.
“We moved into this house in LA sometime after our third anniversary, gutted parts of it, built it to our liking, it’s gorgeous,” Timothée’s mind is going on a virtual tour of the two story estate, the sitting room where he destroyed your future, the bed where he’d held you close, the kitchen where you’d made countless meals together, and in the summer, in the garden, where you’d made love on a gingham blanket under the lemon trees.
“Do you still live there?” Dr. Vernon brought him back.
“For now,” Timothée nodded.
“For now?”
“She told me to either buy her out, or sell it,” He stated.
“Seems fair,” Dr. Vernon didn’t pick sides, Timothée liked to think she was on his, but if it came to blows, he didn’t know where she’d stand.
“It’s her house, it’s her back splash and her herringbone hardwood and it’s our photos on the wall, our bedroom, our closet. It’s not a home without her,” Timothée wiped his eyes, the tears brimming. He was so fucking tired of crying.
“She didn’t want the house?” Dr. Vernon’s eyes drifted back to her notes, to Timothée’s legal pad, where she made a note in the margin.
“She packed up and moved out like we hadn’t been planning to spend our lives in it,” Timothée let the tears fall, hot and heavy as they moved down his cheeks.
“But you’re still living in it?”
“yeah,”
“Does that haunt you?” Dr. Vernon wanted to know.
“Yeah, I haven’t taken down the photos or made plans to move. Margot has a room, she’s familiar with it,” Timothée shrugged.
“Are you holding onto it?” Dr. Vernon questions.
“Like hope?” Timothée asked, eyes wide, tears fully cascading down his cheeks.
“Do you think keeping the house mean’s she’ll come back?” Dr. Vernon’s voice was never harsh, if her eyes were kind and welcoming, her voice was silk pajamas.
“Yes,” Timothée whispered.
It was in this moment that Timothée realized the entire problem with his relationship, and how he perceived their time together. Everything he did lingered on that idea, that promise, that glint in the sky of hope.
“Why did you end your open relationship?” Dr. Vernon wanted to know, her hair laying in intricate braids against her scalp, cascading down the back of her blouse, a top Timothée had never seen before. He looks at her, knowing full well in the months he’d been coming to her office, he’d never once mentioned it.
“I got Florence pregnant,” His words were a whisper, that teenage boy shame of knocking someone up out of wedlock still ringing in his words, no matter how many times he’s said it.
“You closed your relationship before Florence was pregnant, or after?” Dr. Vernon was clearly confused on the timeline.
“Before I knew she was pregnant, after I slept with her,” Timothée clarified.
“How did she respond to that bit of news?”
“She was stoic, cold, I called her immediately and she was so mad that I even told her about it,” The anger started to boil in Timothée’s blood the millisecond he started speaking about her.
“Why was she mad?”
“I broke two rules, no talking about whoever you’re sleeping with, no sleeping with coworkers. She was so incensed that I broke the rules, the fucking precious rules that she created that,” Timothée exhaled, trying to measure his words. “She didn’t even care that I was so angry with myself. I hated myself, I’ve spent the last year hating myself, and all she had to say was that I had to live with the decision I made and to talk to Florence. She didn’t offer forgiveness or understanding, she didn’t try to be empathetic or kind. She just, fucking, she just let me hurt.”
Dr. Vernon ticks a few boxes in her head, her theories solidifying as Timothée moves through his anger.
“What did you expect her to do?” Dr. Vernon’s eyes are questioning, curious as to whether or not Timothée had at all in their time together begun to grasp the levity of the situation.
“Not that,” Timothée said, eyes still raging.
“How did she usually respond to you being in distress?” Dr. Vernon stilled, waiting to hear his response.
“She was loving, comforting, she listened, and she cared. She’d, she’d ask me how it made me feel and what was going to help me process it… She was gentle, calm… but that phone call, she didn’t fucking care,” Timothée stared at a spot on the carpet where the pattern divulged and bled into the binding on the side.
“Can you blame her?” Dr. Vernon quipped.
“No, I would’ve been, I probably would’ve responded the same,” Timothée swallowed.
“Hmm,” Was all Dr. Vernon said as she watched the wheels in his mind turned, putting the pieces into place that he’d been staring at for nearly two years.
“She never gave me a chance to work through it with her,” Timothée responded, though he wasn’t sure he ever gave her a chance.
“Walk me through what happened after you told her Florence was pregnant,” Dr. Vernon instructed, taking another swig from her water bottle. In all the times that Timothée had been to see her, he’d never seen her water level be at the same place. He marveled at her dedication, or compulsion to her daily dose of H2O.
“With Florence or?”
“You’ve been coming here for months, and yet you won’t refer to your ex by name,”
Timothée looked like he’d just realized 2+2= 4. He’d never thought about it.
“Oh, is that weird?” He asked, voice a whisper as he thought about it.
“Do you think it’s weird?”
“I, no? I can’t, I can’t say her name,” Timothée felt like putty, the taste of her name synonymous with heartache and loneliness, doing everything in his power to stop from thinking
“You don’t have to,” Dr. Vernon’s smile was forgiving, understanding instead of judging.
“When I told her Florence was pregnant, and that she was keeping the baby, well now Margot, she nodded and then she left,” Timothée exhales a burden he hadn’t known he’d been carrying.
“She left?”
“She packed a bag, told me she’d pick a few days to come get her stuff and said she didn’t want to speak to me,” Timothée lays it out, facts, figures, no fits, no starts.
“How did that make you feel?” Dr. Vernon queries.
Timothée smiled a little, the phrase synonymous with sitting on couches, head being shrunk, he relished in the colloquialism.
“Abandoned,” He said.
“Have you felt that way before?” Dr. Vernon pushed.
“When she wanted to have an open relationship,” Timothée answered.
“Did you tell her that?”
“No,” Timothée said.
“Why not?” Dr. Vernon wanted to know.
“It seemed fleeting, the feeling,” Timothée can’t quite articulate it past that, fleeting, like sunset, like the look you give someone before you kiss them, the first sip of a freshly opened soda, the first sting of a papercut. Momentary. Insularly. Unremarkable.
“Was it?” Dr. Vernon probed.
“No,”
“Was it magnified when she left?” Dr. Vernon, TKO.
“Yeah,” Timothée whispered.
“Did she tell you why she was leaving you?” Dr. Vernon asked, handing the box of tissues to Timothée. He stared at her, unsure if he’s ready to divulge his greatest heartbreak. This was the moment they’d been leading to, the moment where he bared his soul, his shame, abandonment and contempt coming to a head in the quote from his ex. His eyes continued to leak heavy, hot tears; voice caught in his throat.
“It’s okay to just cry,” Dr. Vernon encouraged as Timothée’s shoulders slumped, his sobs breaking him.
“I’ve cried so fucking much,” Is all he could get out, a statement ringing true like the sunsetting and rising every day/night. He’s so fucking tired of it, of all of it. “She said, she said that everything we’d planned was gone.”
Dr. Vernon gazed at him, his slim figure compulsively recoiling as his sobs continued. Timothée wasn’t the first client to come to her at the height of despair, walls caving in. Nor was he the first partner to show up, the cracks of their relationship only revealing themselves as they talked, the instability and decay bubbling to the surface.
“That wasn’t all she said,” Dr. Vernon had a knowing look in her eye. As he blinked, Timothée wondered if it was smug, condescending, a look that told him he should’ve seen their demise coming.
“She,” He took a deep breath, a poor attempt at steadying himself. “She said that Florence had made me a father, and she would never be able to live up to that.”
Dr. Vernon sat, eyes pensive, pen stilled. She wondered how long it would take for Timothée to understand the hurt and abandonment his former partner felt learning that he had fathered a child with someone else. Not just the hurt, but the unraveling of her future, of their life, no matter how tenuous the situation was. Timothée, for all his charm and relationship experience, seemed to be lacking the ability to understand the primal desire built into womanhood: the want, need, to bear children. Some women never felt the calling, but it didn’t stop their biology from preparing their womb every month for a child and shedding it when it realized none was coming. He hadn’t yet grasped the reality of having your life partner, through choice or accident, embark on the most primordial aspect of life without them.
Dr. Vernon’s theories had been correct, and as she guided him throughout his sessions, she hoped that Timothée would fully grasp the weight his actions had on his ex, the pain he caused, and the hurt that both parties were feeling. The grief they were each going through was all encompassing but refusing to acknowledge both sides of the story would not serve Timothée in the future.
Timothée was hung up on how she left, how she iced him out, how she responded to his actions. But he hadn’t yet began to understand the utter devastation he created. By being unwilling to admit that he was the villain in his narrative, he failed to recognize that she too, had been the villain of hers. The only difference was that Timothée came out of the breakup with the house, and what mattered more, a child. A child to love, who would love him in return, a child with hints of his features and a name he helped pick out. It didn’t matter if he was heartbroken, he walked away with everything.
Next: The Side Door
#Timothee Chalamet#timothée chamalet#timothee x reader#original female character#therapy#mental health#relationship#love#breakup#heartache#heart break#actor RPF#RPF#folklore#exile#insult to injury#fanfic#timothée fanfic#timothée imagine#Timothée drabble#series
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IT Chapter Two: Every Returning Character From The First Movie
Which IT Chapter One characters are returning for IT Chapter Two? Both films from New Line Cinema are based on Stephen King’s 1986 novel IT - though the book has been split into two installments - and directed by filmmaker Andy Muschietti.
Released in September 2017, IT Chapter One follows the experiences of several kids in Derry, Maine. The storyline begins in 1988, as the self-proclaimed Losers' Club cope with personal issues while investigating a mysterious being they label as It. The kids ultimately discover that It returns every 27 years to feed on the fears of Derry locals. Incidentally, IT Chapter Two picks up the storyline in 2016, as the Losers' Club reunites and decides to face their childhood trauma one last time.
More: IT and Joker Can Save Warner Bros' Disappointing 2019
IT Chapter Two features many returning characters for two separate timelines - both the children from the first movie and their new adult counterparts are starring in the film. Here’s a complete list of every major IT Chapter One character returning for IT Chapter Two.
It Aka Pennywise The Dancing Clown
Portrayed by Bill Skarsgård, this character is the central villain of the IT story. Pennywise embodies all the fear that children grapple with during their formative years, which means that It can take on various forms, depending on the situation. Pennywise speaks like a normal clown at times but transforms his appearance to shock and terrify his victims. IT Chapter One begins with Pennywise luring and killing a young Derry resident, Georgie Denbrough.
Skarsgård has previously appeared in feature films like Atomic Blonde, Assassination Nation, and Deadpool 2. He also portrayed Henry Deaver aka The Kid in Hulu’s Castle Rock season 1.
Bill Denbrough
Jaeden Martell reprises his role as Bill Denbrough from IT Chapter One. James McAvoy will portray the 2016 version in IT Chapter Two. In the ‘80s narrative, Bill stutters and struggles with his brother Georgie’s disappearance. Like other Losers' Club members, Bill clashes with his father, and vows to keep the gang together. As an adult, he’s become a successful mystery novelist.
Martell previously starred in the Showtime series Masters of Sex. On the big screen, he landed his first big role in the 2014 dramedy St. Vincent starring Bill Murray. McAvoy, an acclaimed Scottish actor, is best known for his performances in Atonement, Split, and the X-Men franchise as Charles Xavier aka Professor X.
Beverly Marsh
Jessica Chastain joins the IT Chapter Two cast as the 2016 version of the Losers' Club lone female member, Beverly Marsh. Sophia Lillis reprises her role from the original film as the young Beverly. During the ‘80s story, Beverly is the focus of both Derry rumors and her own father’s sexual advances. In Pennywise, she sees the physical embodiment of her emotional turmoil. The Losers' Club treats Beverly with respect and helps her confront her worst fears. In IT Chapter Two, Beverly is a Chicago fashion designer with a turbulent personal life.
Since appearing in IT Chapter One, Lillis portrayed a younger version of Amy Adams’ Camille Preaker in the HBO limited series Sharp Objects. She also starred as the title character in the feature film Nancy Drew and the Hidden Staircase, and will headline the 2020 film Gretel and Hansel. Chastain is a two-time Academy Award nominee for her performances in The Help and Zero Dark Thirty. She recently starred in Dark Phoenix, and reunited with director Simon Kinberg for the upcoming spy film 355.
Ben Hanscom
In IT Chapter Two, Ben Hancsom develops a crush on Beverly and stands up to his school bullies. In the '80s, Ben helps the Losers' Club come to terms with and understand the historical context for Pennywise’s return to Derry. As a kid, Ben is known to be a New Kids on the Block fan and a generally shy person - that is, until he joins the Losers' Club. Ben is portrayed by Jeremy Ray Taylor (Goosebumps 2: Haunted Halloween) in IT Chapter One, and Jay Ryan (Top of the Lake) in IT Chapter Two.
Richie Tozier
Once again being played by Stranger Things star Finn Wolfhard, Richie Tozier is the most out-spoken member of the Losers' Club. For IT Chapter Two, Saturday Night Live alum Bill Hader stars as Richie in the 2016 timeline. The character provides comic relief in the original film and was extremely reluctant to face Pennywise, though he ultimately sides with his friends for the final fight. IT Chapter Two, meanwhile, reveals that Richie grew up to be a DJ in Los Angeles.
Wolfhard is primarily known for his role as Mike on Stranger Things, though he's also nabbed roles in The Goldfinch and Ghostbusters 2020. Hader is the creator and star of the HBO series Barry and has been both a prominent actor and voice actor on the big and small screens, appearing in productions from Knocked Up to The Venture Bros to Toy Story 4.
Mike Hanlon
Chosen Jacobs reprises his role as Mike Hanlon from IT Chapter One in IT Chapter Two, with Isaiah Mustafa playing the older version in the sequel film. Mike views himself as an outsider, but he’s welcomed into the Losers' Club by Richie early on. Like his peers, Mike has a difficult relationship with his father. In the 2016 narrative, Mike works as a Derry librarian and warns the Losers' Club members about It’s return.
Jacobs has a recurring role as Will Grover on the CBS series Hawaii Five-0. Mustafa, on the other hand, is best known for starring in a series of Old Spice commercials, and he also starred in the Freeform series Shadowhunters.
Eddie Kaspbrak
In both films, Jack Dylan Grazer stars as the Losers' Club member Eddie Kaspbrak. Like Bill, he sees visions of Georgie, and struggles with his over-protective mother. James Ransone joins the IT Chapter Two cast as the 2016 version of Kaspbrak, a married New York City entrepreneur.
Grazer portrayed a younger version of Timothée Chalamet’s character in the 2018 movie Beautiful Boy and starred in the DC blockbuster Shazam!. Ransone previously starred in HBO's The Wire, and portrays The Deputy in the Sinister movie franchise, so it's clear he has some horror experience.
Stanley Uris
Portrayed by Wyatt Oleff in IT Chapter One, Stanley Uris refuses to believe that Pennywise is real. He’s arguably the most nervous member of the Losers' Club, and tries to maintain control over situations. For IT Chapter Two, Andy Bean stars as the older version of Stanley, an Atlanta accounting professional.
Oleff plays young Peter Quill in both Guardians of the Galaxy and Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2. Bean starred as Greg Knox in the Starz series Power, and also portrayed Alec Holland in the short-lived DC Universe series Swamp Thing.
Henry Bowers
Nicholas Hamilton returns as the malicious town bully, Henry Bowers, with Teach Grant portraying the older version in IT Chapter Two. Henry actively challenges the Losers' Club members, only to be referred to as a “paper man” by his father, whom he ultimately murders in the first film. During the sequel, Henry escapes from an asylum and chases after the Losers' Club.
Hamilton previously had roles in Captain Fantastic and The Dark Tower, another Stephen King adaptation. Grant has appeared in the series Altered Carbon and Van Helsing.
The Leper
In both films, this homeless character is a warped version of Pennywise. Javier Botet reprises his role as the Leper for IT Chapter Two. The Spanish actor previously starred as Tristana Medeiros in the found-footage movie franchise REC, and recently portrayed The Toe Monster in Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark.
Georgie Denbrough
Jackson Robert Scott reprises his role as Bill’s brother, Georgie, who is killed at the beginning of IT Chapter One, and haunts the Losers' Club throughout the rest of the film, namely his brother. Scott's other big role, besides Georgie, is Bode Locke in the series Locke & Key.
Alvin Marsh
Beverly’s abusive father, Alvin Marsh, is portrayed by Stephen Bogaert in both IT Chapter One and IT Chapter Two. In the sequel, Beverly’s emotional issues as an adult are connected to her experiences with Alvin. Bogaert is known for roles in American Psycho and X-Men: Apocalypse, and he's been the narrator on the TV documentary Air Emergency for several years.
Next: IT Chapter Two: Cast & Character Guide
source https://screenrant.com/it-chapter-two-returning-characters-first-movie/
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Can Men Be Objectified? A Response to the “Twink” Controversy
https://fashion-trendin.com/can-men-be-objectified-a-response-to-the-twink-controversy/
Can Men Be Objectified? A Response to the “Twink” Controversy
Not since the dawn of the so-called “dadbod” has there been so much online discourse surrounding the male torso. When The New York Times published “Welcome to the Age of the Twink” by Nick Haramis earlier this month, it provoked a pretty strong reaction, ranging from derision from gay men who felt the term “twink” had been appropriated, to those who questioned the author’s assertion that a slender frame somehow defies traditional masculinity.
It’s not uncommon for straight people to go on safari in LGBTQ culture and come back with a souvenir, but what made this take especially lukewarm was the fact that Vulture writer Kyle Buchanan essentially wrote the same piece in June 2017. It almost goes without saying, too, that slender white guys have carried cultural and sexual currency in the west for centuries.
“Aside from the obvious – a straight twink can’t exist – the conflation of slimness and, for the most part, whiteness to success is problematic,” writes Dazed’s Dominic Cadogan, “not least because that is the way it has been for what feels like forever.”
Still, it’s relatively rare for the media to apply this kind of scrutiny to white male bodies in pop culture, an activity usually aimed at women. In fact, this kind of dissection often picks up speed the further you get from cisgender white men; black, queer and trans women, for example, seem to face exponential judgment and punishment compared to their majority counterparts. In a recent piece for Allure, writer Katelyn Burns described the constant societal policing of trans women’s looks as an “impossible balancing act.”
That isn’t to say cishet men in the public eye have been immune to increasingly unrealistic body standards. When Hugh Jackman first donned those adamantium claws to play Wolverine in 2000’s X-Men, he looked tough as hell, sure, but still kinda cuddly. Cut to more than a decade later, and his torso in The Wolverine and Days of Future Past was hulking and vascular, presumably all the better to make this immortal character seem invincible. That uber-muscular ideal — which writer Mark Simpson, the creator of the term “metrosexual,” named “spornosexual” — can be seen in the majority of leading men today (the internet still mourns the loss of Chris Pratt’s pre-Guardians of the Galaxy tummy), which is perhaps why the Tom Hollands and Timothée Chalamets of Hollywood are making such a stir.
Superheroes and their rippling physiques are a power fantasy, and so this kind of onscreen imagery only serves to further entrench the idea that men’s bodies are totems of power
Of course, showing a man’s bulging pectorals in an action movie isn’t quite the same as the camera lingering on a woman’s breasts or buttocks. Superheroes and their rippling physiques are a power fantasy, and so this kind of onscreen imagery only serves to further entrench the idea that men’s bodies are totems of power, even if the internet sets about making thirsty GIF-sets of Chris Hemsworth’s torso at the same time.
Can there ever be such a thing as equal-opportunity objectification, then, when traditional gender dynamics carry such a historic power imbalance? I asked that question to Man Repeller’s Deputy Editor, Haley Nahman.
“Some guy once told me that he thought the solution to neutralizing the male gaze was for women to simply objectify men,” she says. “It was an annoying comment for multiple reasons, not least of which was his implication that it was women’s responsibility to even the playing field. I told him that seemed like spreading the harm more than supplanting it. I’d always been put off by the idea that, to use a cheap example, women whooping at male strippers in Magic Mike somehow subverted the patriarchy. It never felt like that to me. After all, these men weren’t truly disempowered by the whooping … Most men will never truly understand the all-encompassing female experience of objectification.”
Alice is a social media professional, writer and DJ with a slightly different perspective on the female lens and how Magic Mike XXL, rippling flesh and all, can actually be read as an empowering feminist film. She points to the interiority granted to each beefcake character, and the way the narrative privileges women and their needs, as refreshing and necessary alternatives to what audiences have been conditioned to expect from media.
“The film writes a new blueprint for who a jacked-up male entertainer can be — these are emotionally literate gentle giants who vocally support each other’s dreams,” says Alice. “Magic Mike XXL depicts a feminist utopia which works for women and men. It celebrates women of color, fat women, queer women, older women. Utopian art gives us comfort and hope, allowing us to draw a path from our world to a better one.”
As might be said of any subculture, these tribes emerged at least partially out of an innate need for belonging and evolved over time into entire communities of their own
The fact that twinkhood is being so widely discussed could be seen as similarly encouraging — a new era wherein all forms are celebrated. After all, the gay community has proliferated seemingly inclusive terminology for all kinds of body types, such as bears and otters. As might be said of any subculture, these groups emerged at least partially out of an innate need for belonging and evolved over time into entire communities of their own. And yet, the most common kind of LGBTQ representation to be found in pop culture is still the conventionally handsome cisgender white man, evidently the form most palatable to mainstream audiences. It’s unlikely we’ll be seeing a New York Times article heralding the age of the bear any time soon.
“If we are going to make queer culture more diverse, we need to seriously interrogate the language and tribes we have built up over the years,” writes i-D’s André-Naquian Wheeler in a piece titled, “Why Can’t Black Men Be Twinks?” He points out that Jaden Smith is the only non-white person mentioned in Haramis’ original piece, despite there being a plethora of examples (he cites Pharrell as being “peak twink,” and I can’t say I disagree).
“Opening up twinkdom to black people also requires opening up the qualifiers,” Wheeler continues. “Because black men and white men have very different standard physical features. Twinks, bears, otters — what are these words actually describing? I don’t have the answer, and maybe none of us do, but it’s important we ask the question.”
When we ogle male bodies, and adopt and perpetuate new, seemingly arbitrary criteria for male desirability à la “the age of the twink,” are we really pushing the boundaries of traditional muscle-bound hyper-masculinity? Or simply enacting the same objectification that has oppressed women for so long?
It can only be a good thing that we are examining the complex issue of masculinity as it pertains to and shapes pop culture. But taking the pressure off men to be uber-muscular Men’s Health cover models, only to replace that with another unrealistic ideal, is not conducive to productive discourse. As Spencer Kornhaber of The Atlantic writes: “[M]aybe someday, men and women, straight and queer alike, might come to know how it feels to be more coherently discussed as people, rather than as meat.”
Philip Ellis is a freelance writer and journalist from the U.K. You can follow him on Twitter @Philip_Ellis
Feature photo by Taylor Hill/Getty Images.
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Moodboard by @softhecreator
Mr. Chalamet
chapter seven: i’m in love with you, stupid
AO3 info one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven epilogue
All my work is 18+.
Happens so fast, I can’t hold back; I’m addicted, we both know that. It feels like it’s dangerous and I wanna chase it, ‘cause just one look at you, and I’m wasted.- Demi Lavato, Wasted
“No.”
“Please, baby.”
“Nuh uh.”
“Pretty pretty please?”
“No, Tim.”
“But you’ll look so hot as her, though!” her boyfriend insisted, pointing frantically at a picture on his phone of a redheaded woman in a revealing green outfit with leaf detailing. “And you can make it yourself, you’re so good at that!”
She fixed him with a look from her place on the loveseat in their bedroom in the house he'd given her. “Flattery will not convince me to dress up as a comic book character named after a plant that gives you a rash, no matter how into her weird leaf costume you apparently are.”
“I grew up watching Poison Ivy be all sexy, though!” he practically whined. He paused, and then immediately switched to bribery. “I’ll get you anything you want.”
“You already do that,” she pointed out.
“A wardrobe custom made by your favorite designers.”
“You promised me that already.”
“Fuck,” he muttered, thinking. “I’ll pay your tuition.”
She raised her eyebrows. “You mean the thing my mom takes pride in paying for?”
Tim frowned. “Okay, uh…” Then, an idea seemed to occur to him. “Oh! Have you ever heard of Turks and Caicos?”
She pursed her lips. “No.”
“They’re these tropical islands, a few hundred miles off the coast of Florida.”
“So… the Bahamas?” she drawled, unimpressed.
He shook his head. “No, it’s more… exclusive than that. We’ll have more privacy.”
She hummed, considering this.
At her lack of refusal, he snaked his arms around her waist, pulling her in close. “Okay, look, just— just picture it, okay? Your birthday, an all-inclusive resort villa, just the two of us…” He paused, brushing his lips over her jaw. “Doing whatever we want, no one to bother us or stop or stop us from waking up in each other’s arms, no one to hide from.” He kissed her neck. “Just you and me, holding hands wherever we want, kissing wherever we want, fucking wherever we want.”
She sighed contentedly, leaning into him.
“Wouldn’t that be nice, sweetheart?” Another kiss to her neck. “Our own private beach all to ourselves.”
“We’d have to go shopping separately,” she pouted.
“No,” he assured her. “I’ll have the store cleared out, you can get whatever you want, and I’ll get to fuck you in the dressing room.”
“Tim!” she giggled, swatting his arm playfully.
“Yes, love of my life?” he asked, smirking against her neck.
She sighed. “Okay, okay, fine. I’ll dress up as your dumb character for Halloween.”
“Knew I could convince you.”
“Don’t be smug about it.”
“Will you make the costume yourself?” he asked excitedly.
“Yes, I’ll make it myself,” she said, rolling her eyes. I’ve been making my own costumes since I was ten. Obviously I will.”
“Okay, cool. Make the panties part easy for me to—“
“Tim!”
The Halloween party Tim was hosting was for him and his friends, but he’d told Elle she could invite a few of her friends, too. The fact that Lea could be there without raising eyebrows was an added bonus, he had said.
Lea, Sam, and Lina showed up to the Chalamet estate after most of the guests had already arrived. Lea was in her Poison Ivy costume, which was essentially a bra and skirt covered in fake ivy and vines. For all intents and purposes, it wasn’t as revealing as it could’ve been; only a few inches of her midriff was exposed. She was pleased with how it had turned out.
Pushing down the urge to knock, she followed the other two girls inside, her heels click-clacking on the marble floors as they moved towards the spiral staircase that led to the laughter and thumping music downstairs.
They descended the steps and made their way into the huge room with a bar and a wide open space. There was a pool table past a sitting room, too, along with a card table. Not that Lea could see any of that with how many people there were.
“Lea!” came Elle’s squeal of delight, the taller girl bounding towards her and hugging her with excitement. “You look fantastic!”
“You, too!” Lea nearly shouted over the music. And she meant it; she didn’t know what Elle was dressed as, but she looked awesome.
Sam and Lina waved before heading to the bar to order a drink. Sam loved these parties because hired bartenders didn’t usually charge.
“Are you Poison Ivy?” Elle asked loudly to be heard over the music.
Lea nodded, smiling and hoping her friend wouldn’t ask for details of what the character was like.
“That’s, like, my dad’s favorite character!”
Lea’s eyes widened. It hadn’t occurred to her that Elle might connect the dots on this.
“He has got to see your costume!” Elle declared. “He'll think it’s so cool!”
Tim had made it very clear that his desire to see her dressed as Poison Ivy was deeply sexual. She wasn’t sure how he’d react if Elle—his daughter—was present when he saw her in her costume for the first time.
But Elle was already tugging Lea by the hand through the throngs of people and towards the pool table. He was on the far end, a group of his friends—and his wife, actually; Lea had known Lourdes would be there and Tim had assured her that they were nothing more than friends, they just had to act otherwise around Elle—surrounding him, turned their direction as he lined up a shot.
The exact moment he took it, however, Elle shouted out, “Dad!”
He glanced up, and Lea could see the exact moment he registered her presence, because he froze, his mouth falling open. He rested the cue against the pool table and stumbled towards them, looking somewhat dazed as his eyes raked over her.
“Right?” Elle said excitedly, misinterpreting her father’s reaction entirely. “I thought it’d be fun to show you. It’s a funny coincidence, right?”
“Y— yeah,” Tim stuttered out, his voice hoarse.
Lea smiled at him shyly, taking in his Beetlejuice costume.
“I gotta…” He cleared his throat. “Excuse me, I gotta go… do a thing.”
They watched him as he walked away, though he kept glancing back over his shoulder at Lea. Lourdes looked on with pursed lips and crossed arms.
“Huh,” Elle said, completely oblivious. “Maybe he’s not as nerdy about her as he used to be.” She shrugged. “Oh well. I’m gonna go get a drink. You want anything?”
“Oh, yeah,” Lea said distractedly. “I’ll come with you.”
They waded through the crowd, and Lea rested her forearms on the bartop when they got there.
“What can I get’cha?” the bartender asked pleasantly.
“Scotch on the rocks,” Elle said cheerfully.
The bartender frowned. “I’ve been specifically instructed not to serve you alcohol, Miss Chalamet.”
Lea snorted. “Two Shirley Temples, please.”
Elle glared at her as the bartender nodded and began to fix their drinks. “That is not what I wanted.”
Lea shrugged. “You can’t drink. You like them. Might as well have something you like.”
Elle stuck her tongue out, and Lea laughed, momentarily distracted from the guilt of fucking her friend’s dad.
The bartender slid their drinks towards them, and Lea smiled, thanking him politely.
Elle took a sip of hers and declared, “I’m gonna go, like, dance or something. You coming?”
Lea felt her phone buzz in the hidden pocket of her skirt. Curious about who it was from, she shook her head. “I’m good, thanks!”
“Kay, see ya!”
Lea waved her friend off with a smile before pulling out her phone. Her heart fluttered when she saw the text was from Tim.
Jfc Lea
Warn a guy next time
She giggled, typing out a response.
You literally told me to wear this
My bad, I underestimated how sexy you are. My apologies, will not happen again
😂😂😂
You’re ridiculous
No I just have an insanely attractive girlfriend, that is absolutely not my fault.
Pfft okay you weirdo
“Hey,” a male voice cut into her giddiness.
Lea glanced up at the owner of the voice. “Uh. Hi.”
The man was tall, thin the way Tim was, and he had nice enough hair and his features were arranged pleasantly enough. But he wasn’t Tim, so, like, whatever.
“Poison Ivy, huh?”
Lea nodded, smiling politely. Other than Tim, she didn’t exactly have a lot of experience with men.
“Cool,” the man said, stepping a bit closer to her. “I’m Anthony. What’s your name?”
“Uh… Lea,” she said slowly, wondering why this random dude—Anthony—was talking to her.
“So, Lea,” Anthony drawled, leaning on the bar close enough to her to where their arms brushed against each other. “What’cha drinkin’?”
“A Shirley Temple,” Lea told him.
He chuckled. “How ‘bout a real drink?”
She blinked at him. “What, like alcohol?”
“Naturally,” he grinned.
“Oh, uh…” She swallowed, anxious without really knowing why. “I can’t, but thank you.”
He frowned. “What do you mean you can’t?”
“I’m underage,” she said apologetically, “but I appreciate the offer.”
His eyes widened. “How old are you?”
“Twenty.”
Anthony looked almost relieved at that, and Lea couldn’t figure out why for the life of her. “Gotcha. I’m thirty-four, by the way.”
She stared at him for a moment, wondering why in the hell he felt the need to tell her that.”
“So, what do you do for a living?”
“Oh, uh…” Lea took a sip of her drink. “I’m a student.”
“Cool,” Anthony said pleasantly. “What’re you studying?”
“Costume design.”
“Oh, nice! I’m here with my friend Zendaya, actually. You know her?”
Lea’s eyes widened again. “Yeah, we’ve met. She’s cool.”
He nodded, moving even closer to her, to the point where it was almost weird. “Yeah, we’re friends. She’s basically my sister.”
Lea was about to say that that was cool or interesting, or something equally noncommittal, before the voice of her boyfriend cut in, “Lea, hey! Can you help me with something?”
She turned to face him and said, “What do you need help with?”
“Oh, uh…” He blinked rapidly. “Something in the kitchen.”
Lea frowned. “Didn’t you hire someone for that?”
“Right, yeah,” he seemed to recall. Anthony was looking between them, appearing confused, but he didn’t say anything when Tim asked, “I do need help with the pool cues, though.”
Lea raised her eyebrows, realizing he was most definitely trying to pull her away for sex. Not wanting to be rude to a relative stranger, however, she said, “I think the people playing with them might have some issues with that.”
He changed tactics. “Can you help me look for Elle?”
“Yeah,” she said easily, then gestured to the crowd of partygoers. “She’s right there.”
“Oh… uh… thanks,” he mumbled before glancing at Anthony, clearly annoyed (he hid it well, but she knew his moods well by that point), and went off to… talk to Zendaya? He looked pretty irritated, too. What was he angry-whispering at her about?
“So,” Anthony cut into her thoughts, “you know our host?”
“Uh…” Lea blinked, coming back to herself. “Yeah, actually. I’m friends with his daughter, Elle.”
“Isn’t she a high schooler?”
Lea nodded. “She’s taking early college courses at my school, though.”
“Ah,” Anthony nodded. “I see. Well then, would you like to go to din—“
“Anthony,” Zendaya interjected. “Quit bothering Elle’s friends.”
“I’m not bothering her,” Anthony complained. “We were just having a conversation!”
Lea wanted to say that he very much was bothering her, but she’d been raised not to be rude, so she kept silent.
“Sorry, hon,” Zendaya told Lea with a good-natured smile. “I’ll take this idiot off your hands.”
Lea nodded, returning Zendaya’s smile.
Tim was glowering off to the side, his arms crossed. Once Zendaya and Anthony were out of sight, he grabbed Lea by the hand and started dragging her around the bar and towards the theater.
“T— Tim?” Lea sputtered. “What’s with you?”
“C’mon,” he said sharply, squeezing her hand tighter.
“O… kay?”
As soon as they were inside the theater, he let the doors slam shut behind them and flicked the lock.
Within seconds, she was pressed against the doors as he kissed her desperately.
“Tim, what the hell—“ she muttered, gasping softly when he started kissing her neck and reaching down to squeeze her ass, the fake leaves crinkling under his touch.
“You’re mine,” he snapped, his other hand snaking up into her hair. “Mine. Understand?”
“Yeah,” she frowned, “of course I’m yours. What’s wrong?”
He signed, resting his forehead on her shoulder (which was actually kind of a funny sight because of how far he had to lean down to manage it, even when she was in heels). “I hated seeing that asshole hit on you. I hated not being able to fucking say anything about it. I hated not being able to tell him off for hitting on my girlfriend.”
Lea blinked in surprise. “He was… he was hitting on me?”
Tim pulled back, raising his eyebrows at her in disbelief. “You can’t tell me you didn’t notice.”
“Uh…” She was trying to process this news. Someone had been hitting on her? Really? Weird. “I thought he was just being overly friendly.”
“Is that why you didn’t take a single one of the outs I gave you?” he remarked sourly.
Lea stared at him. “What, your excuses to drag me off into a closet somewhere? Yeah, I wasn’t gonna be rude just so you could have your way with me.”
He examined her face, his gaze intense and searching. “So you didn’t want to talk to him?”
“Why would I wanna talk to some random guy I don’t know?” she asked, exasperated.
“Hmm,” Tim hummed. “Did you think he was hot?”
She rolled her eyes. “He was okay.” He frowned, and Lea cupped his cheek. “But I hardly noticed. He wasn’t you, so I didn’t care. If you hadn’t told me he’d been hitting on me, I wouldn’t have noticed that, either.”
Tim smiled slightly, a small quirk of his lips. “Your obliviousness is adorable.”
She bristled. “I’m not oblivious.”
He kissed her nose. “Of course you are, angel. It’s cute.” He sighed. “However, I’m not joking when I say it really fucking sucked to see you getting hit on and not be able to tell the guy to fuck off since you were too polite to.”
“Is that what you were yelling at Zendaya about?”
“I wasn’t yelling at her,” he insisted defensively. “I just talked to her.”
“Uh huh,” Lea said skeptically. “And what did you say to her?”
He looked down, flushing. “I told her that if she didn’t tell her friend to get away from my girl, I’d end up making a scene.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Well,” he began slowly, “I was worried, alright? What if you liked him better than me? You clearly don’t mind older guys, so—“
“That’s even more ridiculous,” she cut him off. “I don’t mind that you’re older. I literally would not be dating anyone at all if it weren’t for you. Why in the hell would you think I’d be interested in some random dude?”
He shrugged and admitted, “I dunno. I just don’t want you to find someone you like more than me.”
“I’m in love with you, stupid,” she reminded him. “I don’t want anybody else.”
“Then why,” he began slowly, mouthing at her neck, “would you let another man hit on you? Hm?”
Lea inhaled sharply. “I… I didn’t mean to.”
“That’s no excuse,” he scolded, trailing a hand down her back to squeeze her ass roughly. “Maybe I should punish you.” She whimpered, and he smirked in response. She knew he did because she felt it against her skin. “Hm? You think I should? You think you deserve it?”
“No,” she argued playfully.
He grabbed her jaw firmly. “That was a rhetorical question, sweetheart. You don’t get to decide that. I do.” With that, he kissed her slowly, passionately, his body pressing hers against the doors. “And I know exactly how I’m gonna do it.”
“How?” she breathed, swiping her tongue over her bottom lip.
“I’ll fuck you,” he decided, “but I won’t satisfy you until after you’ve satisfied me. And then, if you’ve been good while I fill you up, I’ll let you cum.”
She was practically salivating when he kissed her this time, but then he pulled away, dragging her towards the theater seats and facing her towards them so she couldn’t see him.
“Take your panties off,” he snapped, and when she heard him undoing his pants, her entire body tingled with excitement. She obeyed as quickly as she could, hiking the ivy skirt up around her waist and pulling her panties down.
“Green, huh?”
“I— I thought it’d be fun if they matched the costume,” she stuttered, anxious excitement swirling in her stomach.
“Yeah, I’ll bet you did,” he muttered, stepping closer and shoving her over one of the seats. She braced her hands on the armrests so she wouldn’t fall forward, jolting when he gave her sharp smack on the ass. Then, without warning, he slammed into her.
“God, Tim,” she gasped, her eyes fluttering.
“Yeah?” he panted, already fucking into her with such force that she lost her footing, her heels losing traction on the carpeted floors of the theater and sliding out from under her. She had enough balance on the chair to not fall, though, so she let it happen, enjoying the sharp feeling of his hipbones digging into her ass with every thrust. “This what you wanted, you dirty little thing?”
“Mhm,” she whined. “Feels good—“
“Slutty little outfit,” he muttered, smacking her ass again.
Indignant despite the pleasure he was giving her, she said, “You begged me to wear this—“
He grabbed a fist full of her hair and yanked her head back. “Don’t talk back to me, Lea, or I might decide to stop.”
“S— sorry,” she stuttered, desperately wanting him to do anything but stop.
“That’s better,” he murmured, releasing her hair and thrusting into her again, the movement slow, almost leisurely. “You’re right, I did want you to wear this,” he sighed, “but what I didn’t expect was for you to look so goddamn slutty in it.”
“I like the way you look at me when I wear things like this,” she admitted breathlessly. “I like knowing you want me.”
“Oh, is that right?” Tim chuckled lowly. “You like driving me crazy, making me want you so bad I feel like I’m gonna explode? Is that it?”
She nodded, whimpering needily as he fucked her.
“Bad little slut,” he scolded, squeezing her hips, his fingers digging into her skin. “I’m so good to you and you tease me.” He tsked. “What do you have to say for yourself, Lea?”
“Don’t stop,” she moaned.
He smacked her ass sharply. “Bad girl. Apologize.”
“Make me,” she teased, her toes curling in her shoes.
“Oh, I’ll make you, alright,” he rasped, grabbing her by the hair again and fucking her even more harshly. “Gonna pound this pussy until you have to fuckin’ limp out of here.” When she moaned—both at the image and the way he was fucking her—, he laughed. “Oh, you like that, huh? You want me to fuck you so hard you can’t walk? Is that it?”
She nodded frantically, clenching her eyes shut and whining, “I want it, feels so good when you fuck me, Tim—“
“Fuck,” he grunted. “You wanna stumble out of here, babydoll? You want everyone to know whose little fucktoy you are?”
“Uh huh,” Lea moaned, her arms giving out under her from the force of his thrusts. She fell to her elbows, barely catching herself. “God, Tim,” she whined.
“You are mine, you got that?”
“Yours, yours, yours,” she chanted, willing to give him anything if he just didn’t stop.
“So the next time,” he panted out, “some guy starts talking to you, being too friendly, say you’ve got a boyfriend. You got that?”
She nodded. “Yes, I— I will, I promise, fuck—“
“Good girl,” he praised, squeezing her hips. “You belong to me. You belong to me.”
“Yes,” she agreed without hesitation, eager to please him, especially when he was inside her like this. ‘“m all yours, I swear.”
“Fuckin’ own you, don’t I?” he growled, smacking her ass again. “Own this tight little pussy, your pretty titties, big fuckin’ ass.”
“Mhm,” she gasped out, trying to arch against him despite the angle. “Every part of me is yours.”
“That’s right, Lea,” he groaned, running his hands up her back and along the fake ivy of her costume. “My pretty baby is all mine.” After a pause, he demanded, “Tell me you love me, sweetheart.”
“I love you, Timothée,” she forced out, her body jolting. Blood had long since rushed to her head, but she hadn’t noticed, really. How could she notice when he was inside her this way, making her feel so good? And anyway, she wanted to be his to use however he liked.
“Yeah?” he rasped, fucking her harder, impossibly harder. “Tell me how much, then.”
“More than anything,” she swore. “I love you more than anything.”
He leaned over and pressed a soft, sweet kiss to her spine. “I love you, too, Lea.” He ran his hands up and down her sides, rocking into her slowly rather than fucking her with harsh thrusts. Another kiss. “So fuckin’ much, sweetheart. So fuckin’ much.”
“I want you to—“ she cut herself off briefly, gulping down the intensity of what she was feeling, the overwhelming amount of love and adoration exuding from her pores.
“What do you want, love?” he asked her quietly, rocking into her. “Tell me.”
“I want… I wanna have your baby,” Lea admitted. She’d told him that before, he knew she wanted it, but at that exact moment, she wanted him to get her pregnant so badly she thought she might die if he didn’t.
“I know, sweetheart,” he crooned. “I know you want it. Just a little longer, okay? Just a little longer, and I’ll give you a baby, I promise.”
“Please,” she whined softly. “I— I love you so much, I want—“
“I know, Lea,” he assured her gently. “It’s okay. As soon as we can have one, we will. Okay?”
“I want one now,” she whined. “Please, Tim, I want you to get me pregnant right now—“
“I want it, too, baby,” he promised. “But we gotta hold off for a little longer. And I know it’ll be so worth it. I’ll fill you up, fuck a baby into you.” She whined, trying her damnedest to roll her pelvis up against his despite the angle preventing her from doing so. “You want that, darling?”
“Yes, please,” she whimpered.
“I’ll get you pregnant, Lea,” he rasped, kissing her back again, nuzzling into her hair. “I will, I promise. You just gotta be patient for me, alright?”
“Mmmmf,” she whined needily.
“I know,” he chuckled softly, running his hands up and down her sides. “God, baby, I can’t wait to get you pregnant. You’ll look so fuckin’ sexy.”
“I want it, I want it, I want it, I want it—“
“I know,” Tim grunted, thrusting harder again. “I know you do. I’ll give it to you, I swear I will, just— oh fuck, Lea, you’re gonna make me cum if you keep clenching around me like that.”
“Cum in me,” she immediately begged. “I want you to, I want you to cum in me and knock me up, I want it, please—“
“God, of course you want it,” he muttered hoarsely.
“I wanna cum, Tim,” she pleaded.
“Not yet,” he reminded her. “Part of your punishment, remember? You satisfy me first, and then I’ll let you cum.”
Lea decided she was perfectly fine with this, because it meant he’d cum inside her, and how was she gonna say no to that? So she nodded. “Yes, please.”
“Good girl,” he practically growled, driving into her harder, faster. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum, gonna fill you up, sweetheart, I—“
She reached behind her and put her hand over his, where it rested at her hip. “Inside me,” she said quietly.
“F— fuck,” he gasped. “I— I love you, Lea, fuck—“
“I love you, too,” she told him breathlessly. “Don’t stop.” She laced their fingers together.
He groaned low in his throat, his thrusts slow and deep, and then they stopped entirely. “Okay,” he panted, pulling out of her. She winced, and he pulled her upright again, kissing her shoulder as he did so. She was wobbly on her feet, which was to be expected, quite frankly, so she had to wrap her arms around his neck as he leaned in to kiss her, snaking a hand between her legs. “You did so good for me, sweetheart,” he said into their kiss as he started rubbing her clit. “Wanna make you cum for me. Such a good girl.”
Lea whimpered, her hands tangling in his hair. “Tim,” she gasped, her orgasm approaching at a rate that was actually pretty embarrassing. In her defense, though, he was really good at getting her off.
“That’s right,” he encouraged softly, trailing kisses along her jaw and down her neck. “Sweet girl. Cum for me, love.”
“Tim,” she moaned, her legs shaking from how close she was, how good it felt. He wrapped an arm around her waist so as to hold her up and rubbed her clit faster, using his own cum to ease his movements.
“There you go, baby,” he said. “C’mon, give it to me. Cum.”
And when she did, he kissed her firmly to swallow her moans. They kept kissing as she came down. Dazed and worn out, Lea blinked up at him blearily.
He smiled down at her affectionately and brushed her hair away from her face. “I love you.” She had barely managed to return the sentiment before he kissed her again, something like desperation bleeding into it. When he pulled away, he cupped her face in his hands. “Lea, sweetheart, how would you feel about going public?”
She frowned, turning his words over in her head, which was still fuzzy from her orgasm. “Public? What do you mean?”
He took her hand in his, grabbing a box of tissues off the table near the theater doors and handing her several to clean herself with. She did so with the hand he didn’t seem to want to let go of.
“I mean, like…” He paused. “Not hiding that we’re together. We could go on dates without worrying, you could travel with me openly, I could kiss you in public if I wanted.”
She tensed, throwing the tissues away and dropping them into a nearby trash can. “But… but what about Elle? And— and your wife?”
Tim shrugged. “She’s here. We should talk to her about it.” He squeezed her hand. “About us.”
She smiled. “You really want that with me? You’re sure?”
He nodded. “I can’t handle seeing some asshole hit on you again and not be able to say anything. I can’t. I love you and I want to be able to be with you without worrying about hiding it.”
Her smile widened, and she leaned up to kiss him. “I love you, too.”
“Is… is that a yes?”
“Of course it is,” she giggled. “It’ll be weird to not have it confined to your finsta anymore.”
“Well, most of those pictures aren’t gonna be public,” he pointed out.
Lea hummed. “Does this mean you’re gonna get divorced sooner rather than later?”
He nodded. “If Lola agrees, yeah. I just gotta run it by her first.”
“Okay,” Lea said happily.
“Okay, so you stay here for five minutes and then come out, okay? We can’t raise any eyebrows quite yet.” She nodded, and he took her chin between his fingers and leaned down to kiss her. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“More than anything?”
“Well, don’t be a dick about it.”
He laughed and kissed her again.
This fic is the tape which I have wrapped around myself so as not to fall apart btw hope you enjoy
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In Your Dreams
Moodboard by @softhecreator
Chapter One: Dreams of You & Me
AO3 info one two three four five six seven epilogue
All my work is 18+.
Everybody knows something I don’t wanna know, so I’ll stay right here ‘cause I’m better all alone, yeah, I’m better all alone. Look, I am not a woman, I’m a god. I am not a martyr, I’m a problem. I am not a legend, I’m a fraud, so keep your heart ‘cause I already got one.- Halsey, I am not a woman, I’m a god
Tim was, overall, a very odd dude. This wasn’t terribly surprising, because he was probably some sort of Otherworlder (she was thinking fae; lots of celebrities were fae), but still.
Lea had met him a few months shy of her twentieth birthday when she was tailoring a suit for some fancy event or other. Much to her astonishment-slash-horror, he’d asked her out. Thankfully, he’d made no advances since then. Unless one counted taking her out to dinner and giving her presents and stuff, but like, he was so rich that she figured it was just the sort of thing guys like him did.
So whatever.
And okay, maybe most twenty-year-old girls would kill to have a movie star ask them out, especially one they were so attracted to. But Lea did not want attraction. She didn’t want love or sex.
Well, alright. She wanted those things. Very much so, in fact. But she didn’t want to want them. Her mom had wanted them, and her dad provided, and then he’d beaten the hell out of her until she finally kicked him out when Lea was three. She and her two sisters had subsequently been raised in as male-free an environment as possible: all-girls schools and absolutely no boys (not that that’d ever stopped her younger sister, Ari, from sneaking out to meet them, but Lea was too anxious and terrified of boys for that, and their older sister, Lina, was a lesbian, so she wasn’t interested in them, anyway).
In any case, she was better off alone. That’s just how it was. It’s how it was meant to be.
Until it wasn’t.
Until it fucking wasn’t.
Lea got confirmation that Tim was an Otherworlder the first time she saw him appear out of nowhere in a puff of black smoke.
She was sitting on her couch in her shoebox New York City apartment, eating chow mein takeout in her pajamas and going over her Intro To Cinema Studies homework.
And then there was a crack! and black smoke filled the tiny living room.
Lea’s head snapped up, and she found none other than her weirdo best friend sauntering towards her fridge.
“Tim, what the hell?” she demanded after several beats of shocked silence.
He spun on his heels, one of those terribly disarming, heart-stopping grins on his too-perfect face.
Lea steadfastly ignored the thumping of her heart in her chest.
“Did I surprise you? My bad,” he told her, sounding entirely too pleased with himself.
She glowered at him. “I’m doing homework!”
He shrugged, sauntering over to her. “Which class?”
Lea finished the last of her chow mein and sat back. “Cinema Studies. Never mind that, though— what’s up with the appearing-out-of-thin-air-in-a-puff-of-smoke thing?”
He tensed as he sat down beside her on the couch, which was really more of a loveseat.
When he didn’t say anything, she added, “Dude, I don’t care if you’re an Otherworlder. It’s fine. Just, like… be honest with me about it, y’know?” She smiled encouragingly. “Don’t wanna have any freaky fae shit used on me.”
He stared at her for a long while before saying, very softly, “I wouldn’t use anything on you unless you asked.”
“Thanks, I guess,” she hummed. “You not gonna tell me what you are, then?”
“Uh…” He scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably. “Not… not yet, no. Is that okay?”
Lea shrugged. “It’s your choice. Figured I’d need to sign an NDA or something.”
“Oh, no, I wouldn’t…” he trailed off momentarily. “I know you wouldn’t say anything to anyone.”
She gave him a small smile. “Yeah.”
He gave her another heart-stopping grin, and she tried to ignore the way her heart stuttered.
The birthmark—the one that was pink and raised, like a scar, lines crisscrossing each other to form a star with eight points—on her hip burned. She scratched it mindlessly.
“How old are you, anyway?” Lea asked idly one day in between back-and-forth popcorn tosses on his fancy rich boy couch.
Tim paused momentarily, then resumed chewing.
She tried very hard not to stare at the way his jaw moved when he chewed. She was successful. Mostly, anyway.
He swallowed, and she also mostly succeeded at not staring at the way his throat looked during that action (absolute harlotry on his part, really, if you think about it). “Uhhhhhh…” he trailed off, raking a hand through his curls and pursing his lips in thought.
She wondered if they tasted like popcorn.
No, bad Lea, no kissing thoughts, bad, bad, very bad—
After a few beats of him thinking, he finally shrugged and said, “No clue,” before resuming eating his popcorn.
She stared at him. “You… don’t know how old you are?”
He shook his head. “I remember stuff.” Another pause. “But you kinda just stop counting after awhile, y’know?”
She nodded thoughtfully. “I guess that makes sense.” Then, “What sort of things do you remember?”
“Mostly boring stuff,” he admitted with a rueful smile, “but some cool stuff, too.”
“Like what?”
Tim looked at her thoughtfully for a long moment. “Maybe I’ll tell you someday.” She pouted, and he laughed. “Don’t make that face!”
“Why not?” she whined, deliberately intensifying her pout, sticking her lower lip out even further.
He shot her that grin again, the one that simultaneously gave her heart wings and weighed it down, and then he reached over and poked both her cheeks. “‘Cause when you make that face, it makes me wanna give you anything you ask me for, which is dangerous.” He said the last word in a baby voice.
Lea rolled her eyes, swatting his hands away. “I’m not dangerous, stupid,” she muttered, a light dusting of red permeating her cheeks at his touch.
He grinned again, leaning back on the arm of his couch. “If you say so.”
Tim was a touchy-feely guy. Like. Really touchy-feely. He spent a lot of time holding her hand or cuddling with her on one of his sixteen bazillion couches (fuckin’ rich boy, man). Sometimes even both. Like, at the same time.
Her friends didn’t believe her when she insisted it was platonic. But like, if it wasn’t, if he had feelings for her, he totally would’ve said something, right? He absolutely, 100% would’ve made a move. He’d never mentioned it, never talked about his dating life, but she was certain he knew what he was doing in that regard. Movie stars—not that he ever called himself that; in fact, he was extremely uncomfortable with the term, but he was one whether he was comfortable with it or not—really got around, didn’t they? She was pretty sure they did. And one as sweet as him, as gorgeous and perfect as him, not to mention dripping sex appeal like he’d taken a goddamn bath in the stuff.
It was a good thing that his feelings for her were platonic, though. It wasn’t like she had feelings for him or anything.
Okay, so maybe she had feelings for him. Big whoop. It was Timothée fucking Chalamet, of course she had feelings for him. He was an orgasm with legs, so she really couldn’t be blamed for the amount of staring she did.
On the plus side, though, she was pretty good at not letting her interest in—or intense and very sexual desire for—him show in her facial expressions or actions. Other than the staring, of course, which again, she could not be blamed for.
All in all, she was getting by decently well despite her stupid feelings that were doing their damnedest to fuck up the first friendship she’d ever had with any guy ever.
And then the dreams started.
She was dreaming. She knew she was. It was a lucid dream, which she’d only had a couple of times before.
It was a strange one, lucid dream or no; she was at Tim’s apartment, sitting next to him on one of his sectional couch in his living room. Something she didn’t recognize was playing on the TV, and it was dark outside the floor-to-ceiling windows. It wasn’t a memory, but rather something her imagination must’ve come up with.
“This is a weird dream,” Lea observed.
He grinned at her. “And why is that?”
“I don’t usually dream myself at other people’s houses,” she said with a shrug. “But maybe dream-Tim will be up for things real-Tim isn’t.”
“I think you’d be surprised what I’m up for,” he chuckled.
“In general?” She raised her eyebrows at him. “Yeah, probably. But with me… no, I don’t think so.”
Tim draped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her up against him. “And what would you like dream-Tim to do with you that you are under the mistaken impression that real-Tim would not do with you?”
She laughed, nestling in closer to him. “Just this is nice for now.”
“Yeah,” he agreed with a smile. “I like being close to you.”
“You’re the cuddliest motherfucker on the face of the earth, I know,” Lea giggled. “I’d never tell you this, but I’ve always thought that was really cute about you, even though it makes me nervous.”
His arm tightened around her. “Why does it make you nervous?”
“Because I’ve got a big fat crush on you, idiot. You’re in my head, you should know this.”
“Why don’t you tell me, then?” he wanted to know.
“Few reasons—though, again, you should know them since I made this version of you up, but whatever, I’ll tell you anyway—I don’t like the idea of being rejected, and I don’t want anybody having that sort of power over me. Not that it’d work between us, anyway.”
He hummed, considering her words. “You have a lot of power over me, too, y’know.” He ran a hand through her curls momentarily. “And I wouldn’t reject you. No clue where you got the impression I’d reject you.”
“You’re just saying what’ll make me happy,” she pointed out. “I know the real you wouldn’t want me like that. We’re friends, but that’s as good as it’s gonna get. You’d never want somebody like me.”
“What makes you think I wouldn’t? You’re amazing.” She laughed at that, closing her eyes and enjoying the feeling of his hand on her arm. “You are!” he insisted. “You’re smart, you’re funny, not to mention unbelievably gorgeous—“
“I am not,” she snorted. “Except for the funny part. You’re right about that; I’m hilarious. But the other stuff? Nah. Not to somebody like you.”
“I dunno what you mean by somebody like me,” Tim started, “but you are very intelligent, which I think you know, and—“
“Okay,” she conceded, “I guess I’m okay as far as intelligence goes, but I’m certainly not gorgeous. At least not by the standards you’re used to.”
“Lea,” he said slowly, “you are hands down the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”
She snorted again. “I really like this version of you I’ve dreamed up, I gotta say. But no, to the real you, I’m not.” He was about to say something, but she continued, “Since I made you up, though, hopefully you won’t mind if I cuddle you as much as I like.”
“I’d never mind that,” he promised. “I wouldn’t even mind if you wanted to do more than just cuddle me, whether you’re dreaming or not.”
She draped her arm across his chest. “Yeah, I really like this version of you,” she sighed contentedly. “All of your sexiness and sweetness, none of the lack of attraction to girls like me.”
“I don’t know what you mean by girls like you, but…” He paused before taking her hand in his. “This isn’t me pressuring you. I just want to show you what you do to me.” With that, he brought her hand down and pressed it against his—
Holy fuck, this is a dope-ass dream.
When she looked up at him in shock, he smiled and said, “I’m like this a lot when we’re together. Having you so close and not being able to touch you the way I really want to isn’t easy.” He bit his lower lip, his eyes falling to her cleavage. “Especially when you look the way you look.”
She swallowed, anxious even asleep. “This is a dream, so you’ll do anything I want you to do, right? You’ll be okay with whatever I want?��
His eyes snapped back up to hers. “Well, yeah, of course, but I don’t wanna take advantage of you—“
“I think it’s probably closer to me taking advantage of you,” she pointed out, “but I can’t do this any other way, so…”
With that, she kissed him. He was frozen for a few seconds, but then he groaned and turned towards her more, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her up against him.
She had never kissed anyone before in real life, but this was a dream, and dream-Tim seemed to like the way she moved her lips over his.
He seemed surprised when she climbed into his lap to straddle him, panting into his mouth before pulling away and yanking her shirt over her head.
“Lea,” he said shakily, “what’re you doing?” His hands ran up her sides slowly, as if he were reluctant to touch her. “Fucking hell, your tits, fuck—“
“I can’t have you in real life,” she explained, rocking her hips forward to feel his hardness between her legs. “If this is all I’m ever gonna have, I want as much as I can get.”
“You can have me anywhere you want me, sweetheart,” Tim said hoarsely as she ground against him. “Do… do you really want me to…?”
There was no point in being shy in a dream, so she reached around her back and unhooked her bra, letting it fall onto the rug with her shirt. “Please, Timothée.”
He trailed his hands up her sides to cup her breasts, squeezing them gently. “Fuck, Lea, you’re so beautiful.”
She wasn’t entirely sure how it happened, but the next thing she knew, they were both naked on the couch, and she was rubbing her wetness over his length, moaning into his mouth as she did so. She’d dreamed up piercings for him she hadn’t known existed— multiple metal bars along the underside of his shaft and one directly beneath his tip. This was a strange thing to imagine, but she wasn’t about to question it.
“I want it,” she begged desperately. “Please, I want you so bad, I’m always so empty, and it won’t even hurt ‘cause it’s not real, please—“
“If you’re sure,” Tim said hastily, reaching down to align himself with her. “Sink down onto me, baby, c’mon.”
It was hazy from there, likely because Lea had never actually had sex and therefore didn’t know how it was supposed to feel, but she knew it was desperate and hungry and passionate, and that he’d given her so many orgasms she couldn’t possibly have counted them.
The dream morphed into another one. She found herself in what appeared to be a closet, though she didn’t recognize it.
Tim was behind her, kissing her neck and pulling down her panties. “You were so gorgeous today,” he murmured in her ear. “I think they were looking at you more than me.”
“Who was?” Lea asked, confused. “What’s going on? Where are we?”
He smirked against her skin. “It’s still a dream, sweetheart. A dream of what could be. Either way, we’re in London. We just got back from the British Film Festival.”
She blinked, turning to face him. “A. A film festival?”
“Mhm,” he confirmed with a grin. Then, taking her hand in his, he said, “C’mon, baby. I’m sure your feet are sore. Let’s get you in the bath.”
He led her across marble floors into a bathroom with a huge tub. Stripping off his clothes, he held her hand as she climbed the steps and sunk into the hot water. As she settled down, however, she realized her breasts were resting on her stomach. This was very odd indeed, because while her stomach was far from flat, it had never been big enough to support her boobs.
She glanced down, only to see that…
Holy fucking shit.
She screamed, clutching her heavily pregnant stomach. “What the fuck?”
He climbed into the tub with her and took her in his arms. “It’s alright, Lea. It’s okay.”
“How is this okay?!” she forced out. “I’m— I’m pregnant, how am I pregnant?! I know it’s a dream, but—“
“It’s just what could be,” Tim reassured her gently, taking her hand in his.
It was then she noticed the ring on her finger.
“We’re married, too?”
“Your mind is showing you what you want,” he explained gently. “What we both want.”
“You don’t want this,” she said shakily. “The real you doesn’t want this with me.” She stared at him, his gorgeous features clearer than they’d ever been in any dream she’d ever had of him. “God, a baby?”
“Yeah,” he confirmed with a soft, gentle smile, reaching over to rub her stomach. “You’re having my baby.”
“And I went to a red carpet with you, apparently.”
“You did.”
“Why?” she finally asked.
“Because I asked you to, and you loved me enough to say yes.”
She flushed, looking down at where his hand was rubbing her stomach still. “Sounds like me, to be honest.”
He kissed her, and the dream faded away into another.
She was pregnant again, sitting on a blanket in the grass with a small child between her legs as Tim chased after a boy around ten.
“I’m gonna get you!” her dream-husband growled, his hands over his head like claws.
A third child—a girl with her hair and his eyes, somewhere around the age of six or seven—raced over to him with a screech of delight.
She held the child that sat with her closer.
When Tim looked back over at her with a grin on his face and love in his eyes, Lea realized that yeah… she wanted this. She really wanted this.
When she woke up, she was crying.
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In Your Dreams
Moodboard by @softhecreator
Chapter Seven: You Come Around & The Armor Falls, Pierce the Room Like a Cannonball
AO3 info one two three four five six seven epilogue
All my work is 18+.
When I was younger, I saw my daddy cry and curse at the wind. He broke his own heart and I watched as he tried to reassemble it. And my mama swore that she would never let herself forget. And that was the day that I promised that I’d never sing of love if it does not exist. But darling, you are the only exception.- Paramore, The Only Exception
It took a second for the words to sink in. “I’m on birth control, so I doubt I’m pregnant.”
Um…” He scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably. “No, that wouldn’t really… I mean, hormonal birth control doesn’t have any effect on Otherworlders, so…”
She stopped breathing.
“I can’t be pregnant,” she told him slowly. “I can’t be. I’m… I’m twenty, Tim. I just turned twenty less than four months ago!”
“Y— yes,” he stuttered out awkwardly. “I’m sorry, I thought you knew. I figured my mom would’ve told you.” He paused, tilting his head in consideration. “Actually, it’s likely she would’ve assumed I would’ve told you, so it wouldn’t have occurred to her to reiterate what she figured you’d already know…”
She stared at him in disbelief. “I cannot possibly be pregnant.”
“Would it really be so bad if you were?” His voice was soft, timid. As if he were afraid of her answer.
“Would it—“ she sputtered. “Of course it would be!” He flinched, but she continued, “It’s not that I don’t love you, of course I do, it’s just it would completely disrupt my life! How can I go back if I’m fucking pregnant, I—“
“Wait,” he cut her off. “Go back? What do you mean go back?”
“Go back to my life,” she said impatiently. “You’re alive, you’re okay. You don’t need me anymore. I can go back to my life. We can go back to being friends and nothing else...” She paused before grumbling, “I’ve just been procrastinating on it.”
“Why would you think that?” he asked, astonishment clear in his voice.
She blinked at him. “Why wouldn’t I think that?”
Tim started to pace back and forth, raking his hand through his curls. “I— I told you I can’t feed off anyone else now. You’re it. And I thought you were okay with that. I thought you loved me.” His voice broke then. “Did you lie? Did you not mean it? Do you not love me?”
“Of course I love you!” she hurriedly insisted. “It’s not that I don’t love you, of course I love you, how could I not?”
“Then why?” he demanded, pinning her with his gaze. “Why would you want to leave me?”
“I don’t want to leave you,” she admitted. “I just can’t stay.”
“But why?” he pressed. “If you want to stay, if you love me, why would you leave?”
Her heart was pounding in her chest, blood thrumming in her ears, and she abruptly blurted out, “I don’t want to be vulnerable.” He did nothing but stare at her, so she rushed on, “I’ve never wanted that kind of vulnerability. You’d never intentionally hurt me, I know you wouldn’t, but you could. You could destroy me, irreparably shatter my heart into a million tiny little pieces. I’ve spent my whole life avoiding this exact thing—actually, no, something easier than this, less intense than this, ‘cause I figured it’d be with a human if it happened—and here I am, loving someone when I wish I could’ve avoided it, just like my mom did, and you could rip me apart the same way she got ripped apart, and I’d— I’d fucking let you. I’d let you destroy me if you wanted to.” She paused, her chest heaving, and then hoarsely asked, “Do you have any idea how terrifying that is for me?”
Tim looked at her for a long moment. “Lea, if anyone tried to hurt you, including me, I don’t… I don’t even know what I’d do.”
She blinked away tears she hadn’t noticed until they gathered at her eyelashes. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve killed before,” he told her, looking away momentarily. “To save my own life, to save the lives of others. It’s been a few centuries, but… yeah. It’s happened before. I try not to think about it. But for you…” He paused, sighing and tilting his head back, exposing the length of his neck that was far more attractive than it had any right to be, really. “For you,” he went on, “I’d raze cities if I had to. If anyone tried to hurt you.”
She crossed her arm over her abdomen, cupping her elbow. “I wouldn’t want you to do that.”
He nodded. “I’m sure you wouldn’t, but I don’t think it’d be up to either of us, really.” A hoarse laugh. “Incubi don’t exactly have a great track record with self control when their mates—their children, too—are threatened or harmed.”
Children.
Lea focused on her breathing; in and out, in and out. “How likely is it that I’m pregnant?”
He looked at her for awhile, his face blank in that way she knew meant he was trying to hide his emotions. “Extremely.”
She crossed both arms over her stomach and croaked, “How are you so sure?”
Tim sighed. “Well, birth control doesn’t work with me, like I said, and we’ve been having sex multiple times a day for over a month now, which I figure would make it likely even with a human. But also, the first few times—the first few weeks after mating, I mean—are an extremely, uh… fertile time for both parties. It’s extremely unusual for pregnancy not to occur. I thought you knew. I would’ve…” He paused, taking a deep, shuddering breath. “I would’ve used a condom if I had known you didn’t want…”
She remembered the dreams she’d had—the dreams he’d given her, glimpses of a potential future, one that he couldn’t have shown her if she didn’t want it already—with their children, boys with his hair and facial structure and a little girl with her red curls and his eyes…
Fuck but she wanted that. Her heart twinged at the thought that she shouldn’t have it, shouldn’t want it to begin with.
“If you don’t want it,” he started slowly, “I’ll understand. I’ll understand if you want to, y’know. Get an abortion.”
She shook her head firmly. “If I’m pregnant, I’m keeping it.”
He nodded, murmuring, “Okay. If that’s what you want.” He looked away from her then before adding, “And if you… if you want to leave, I’ll understand that, too. I wouldn’t blame you.”
She examined his face, the evident pain he was trying his damnedest to hide from her. “You said you can only feed off of me.”
“Yes,” he confirmed, his voice quiet.
“And you’ll die if you can’t?”
He was silent for a few tense beats before speaking again. “Yes.”
“I can’t let you die, Tim,” she whispered tearfully.
He glanced back at her. “Even if you’re scared? Even if it means you’re vulnerable?”
She nodded. “Me being vulnerable, risking getting hurt—destroyed, even—is a hell of a lot better than you dying.”
“Do you love me?” he asked, soft and desperate.
Lea flushed, looking down at the floor. “I do, yeah.”
He took several hesitant steps towards her. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he promised. “I’m going to protect you and take care of you and love you. I’m going to worship you.”
Tears pricked her eyes again. “I want this with you,” she admitted, “and I do love you, I love you so much it’s terrifying. Everything about this is terrifying. This whole situation, me being pregnant—how the fuck can I be pregnant?—is particularly petrifying, how I feel about you, how strongly I feel about you, what you have the capability to do to me, it’s all so fucking scary, I—”
Lea’s words collapsed into tears then, and he closed the remaining distance between them and took her in his arms. For a moment, he just held her against his chest, still bare from earlier, his face pressed to her hair. “I know you’re scared, sweetheart,” he murmured, “but you don’t have to be. I couldn’t hurt you if I tried.”
“I know you won’t try to hurt me,” she said through her tears, “You’re a really good guy, I don’t think you’re capable of hurting someone intentionally. That’s part of why I fell in love with you to begin with, is because of how sweet you are. You’d never hurt me—or anyone else—on purpose, of course you wouldn’t, but you could, and that’s fucking terrifying.”
“Well,” he hummed consideringly, “I guess I’ll just have to spend the rest of time showing you that you’re safe with me.”
Pulling back slightly from his chest, she looked up at him tearfully. “The rest of time, huh?”
Tim smiled softly at her. “Yeah, baby. As long as I have you, I won’t die, and as long as you have me, neither will you.” He paused. “Which is just as well, because I could live an infinite number of lifetimes with you in my arms this way and it still wouldn’t be enough. No amount of time with you will ever be enough.” And after a moment, he added, “And you’re— you’re having my baby. Do you realize how incredible that is?” He laughed disbelievingly. “Fucking hell, you’re having my baby.”
She was still scared, most especially of that, but… he was so goddamn happy about it that it made her fear give way to excitement. Smiling hesitantly, she said, “Y— yeah. I am. I’m having your baby.”
He was gazing at her with such unmistakable adoration that she couldn’t help but stand on her tiptoes and kiss him. He returned it, wrapping an arm around her waist with a growl and hauling her closer.
“Want you again,” he murmured against her lips.
“But we just finished, like, half an hour ago—“
“Yes,” Tim agreed, “I fucked you half an hour ago, and I want to fuck you again now.” He was running his hands over her upper thighs, just beneath where her nightie met her skin, and trailing kisses down her neck.
“You’re such a glutton,” she giggled.
“I am not,” he insisted, feigning offense. “I don’t need to feed, I just enjoy fucking you.”
“On one condition,” she said breathlessly, reaching up to thread her fingers in his hair.
“Yeah?” he muttered, already working on adding a fresh bruise to her throat.
“Prove you’re not just in it for food. Let me suck you first.”
“Fucking hell,” he groaned. “Baby, are you— are you sure? You don’t have to—“
“I want to,” she told him, sinking to her knees in front of him. “I like it. You don’t let me do it enough.”
“Fuck,” he said again as she pulled down the pajama pants that were slung low over his hips. He wasn’t wearing any underwear, so she had nothing to stop her from grabbing his dick and taking it into her mouth eagerly, rubbing her tongue along the barbel under the head. He moaned loudly, and she looked up at him, seeing him throw his head back with pleasure.
She sucked in, hollowing out her cheeks and swirling her tongue around the head. She wished he would let her do this more often, but he always wanted her to cum rather than him. He really was a glutton, wasn’t he?
Bobbing her head rapidly, she slid one of her hands up his torso, reaching down with the other to squeeze her breast roughly.
“Fuckin’ hell, Lea,” he moaned. “Play with those big fuckin’ tits for me, baby. Wanna watch you.”
She lowered her hand obediently and squeezed both her breasts, pinching her nipples and moaning around his length at the sensation.
“Touch yourself,” he commanded hoarsely, his hand gripping her hair. “Make yourself cum while you suck my cock.”
Reaching down, she hiked the skirt of her nightie up around her waist, continuing to suck him all the while.
“Feel your pussy, baby,” he encouraged. She did so, brushing her fingers over herself. “You wet for me?” he demanded lowly. “Does having my dick in that pretty little mouth of yours make you wet?”
“Mhm,” she moaned around him again, starting to tease her clit with slow circles.
“You call me a glutton,” he growled, “but it’s really you, isn’t it? Wanting to get on your knees for me every chance you get.”
Fuck but she loved it when he talked to her like that. She wanted him to use her, to use her mouth for his own pleasure, and oh god, her pussy, too. She wanted him to do whatever he felt like with her. Moaning at the thought, she rubbed her clit faster, sucking him harder.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” Tim moaned, his hand tightening in her hair. “Such a good girl for me.” She whimpered around him, rolling her hips against her hand. The stimulation combined with his words, his dick in her mouth, it was making her orgasm approach quickly. “You’re gonna cum, aren’t you?” he gasped out. “Gonna cum for me like a good little slut, getting off on sucking my dick?”
“Mmmf,” Lea moaned desperately. She was so close, so fucking close—
“C’mon, baby,” he encouraged, his voice breathless as he stared down at her with those deliciously sexy red eyes. “Cum for me. I can feel how close you are. Cum for me.”
She did so, moaning around him as she erupted, her hips bucking against her hand while her core clenched down on her own emptiness. Still, she didn’t stop sucking him, wanting to please him.
He allowed it for a few minutes, telling her how good she was for him, that she was so pretty with his cock in her mouth. It wasn’t long, however, before he yanked her off of him with a groan that almost sounded pained, pulling her up by her hair.
“Can’t wait anymore,” he told her before gesturing to the nightie she wore. “Take that off.” She didn’t do it fast enough, still dazed from her orgasm, so he snapped, “Now. Unless you want me to rip it.”
Lea hastened to obey, pulling the dark pink lace nightie over her head as quickly as possible.
“Good girl,” he praised before gesturing to the desk-like dressing table and snapping, “Bend over.”
Fighting off an eager grin, Lea clambered up onto the table, her legs dangling in the air.
“Fuck,” he groaned. “This fuckin’ ass, baby.” He gave her a sharp smack across one of her asscheeks, and she moaned loudly. He laughed low in his throat. “You like that?”
“Mhm,” she whimpered. “I want your cock, please.”
“Far be it from me to deny you what you want,” Tim muttered, running his hands from her ass to her hips, then up over her ass again to her back. “Gonna be a good girl for me, huh?”
“Mhm,” she whined, her fists clenched from how bad she wanted him inside her.
“C’mon, sweetheart,” he chided gently. “Use your words.”
“I’ll— I’ll be good,” she promised hastily. “I’ll be good for you, I swear, please just—“
“There you go,” he murmured, grasping her hips firmly as he slid into her.
Lea cried out, her toes curling from the delicious sensation of being filled.
“Perfect fuckin’ pussy,” he grunted, immediately setting a rough pace, slamming her into the table with each thrust.
“Tim, Tim, Tim—” she chanted, already so far gone her words were blurring together.
“So pretty when I fuck you,” he moaned. “So pretty when you were on your knees from me with my cock in your mouth, rubbing your little clit till you came. Did you like that, baby? Did you like getting off while you sucked me?”
“Yes,” she gasped out. “I— I like pleasing you.” He rewarded her response with a hard thrust, and she moaned. “Fuck, feels good, feels so good—”
“I fucked a baby into you, Lea,” he reminded her, his voice as rough as the way he handled her, fucked into her. “I pounded this little pussy so good, came inside you so much, that I got you pregnant.”
That stirred up something unexpected in her stomach, like butterflies of fire, and she whimpered again. “You— you did.”
“Can’t wait to see you grow,” he muttered. “Gonna be so sexy, belly and tits all swollen ‘cause of how good I give it to you.”
“Tim,” she moaned. “Want your baby. Want it, I want it, I want it—”
He chuckled darkly. “Yeah, I’ll bet you do. You know why I put those images of you pregnant in your mind, sweetheart?”
Lea shook her head wordlessly, too focused on the way he was slamming into her to respond with words.
“I did it ‘cause once I knew you had feelings for me, if you saw yourself pregnant with my child, you wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about it.” He ran a hand up her back and back down again before smacking her ass sharply. Lea yelped, and he leaned down to murmur, “Was I right?”
“Y— yes,” she admitted hoarsely. “Yes, you—“ she cut herself off at a particularly rough thrust.
“Keep going,” he ordered, smacking her ass again.
She moaned at the sting, but managed to get out, “You were right. I saw it, and all I tried so hard to ignore how bad I—oh fuck, just like that, please—how bad I wanted your baby, how bad I wanted you to fuck me, god, please don’t stop—“
“Not gonna stop, sweetheart,” he promised. “Gonna fuck you till you’re satisfied. As much as you want, okay?”
Lea clenched around him at the thought. “I don’t think I’ll ever be satisfied, it feels too good,” she whined. “More, please, I want more—“
“I know, baby,” he groaned. “Fuck, I know. You’re the glutton here, huh?” She whined at his teasing, at the way he fucked her. “As soon as I put my dick in you for the first time, you couldn’t get enough. Don’t think I don’t notice how desperate you always are for it, to get fucked.”
She whined again, burying her face in her arms in mild humiliation that, for whatever reason, sent a tingle down her spine.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” he crooned a bit condescendingly. “I know it’s my fault. I’m the one who turned you into a needy, greedy little cockslut. It’s not your fault, sweetheart. You couldn’t help it, could you?”
“N— no,” she stuttered on a moan. “Can’t help it, feels too good, oh fuck, Tim—”
“I know, baby,” he assured her. “I know. I’ll keep your pussy nice and full, okay? Make sure you can have my cock filling you up whenever you want it, whenever I feel like giving it to you. Keep you nice and satisfied.” She let out a sound that was halfway between a whine and a moan, and he chuckled softly, fucking her so hard and so fast that her body jolted against the table with his every movement. “Would you like that, sweetheart?” he asked her gently, softly, the contrast between his tone and his rough handling of her so vast it was almost startling. “Would you like me to keep you fucked full? Take you with me wherever I go, use your tight little pussy whenever I feel like it, fuck however many babies into you I want— would you like that?”
“Yes,” she moaned, clenching around him at his words. “Yes, I want that, I want it, fuck don’t stop—”
He smacked her ass again, the sting making her cry out with delight. “I command and you obey, remember? You can ask for what you want, but you don’t get to tell me. Understand?”
“Y— yes,” she whimpered, wishing he’d spank her again. “Can you…” She gulped, swallowing her spit. “Can you do that again, please?”
“What, this?” With that, he spanked her again, a bit harder this time.
“Yes,” Lea gasped out breathlessly. He smacked her other asscheek, and she moaned again, even louder than before. “Want you to fuck me, please,” she whimpered. “Use me, want you to feed from me—”
“Fuckin’ hell, baby,” he grunted, spanking her again before rubbing the reddened, sensitive skin. “You’re gonna let me have it whenever I want, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” she promised. “Yes, fuck, anything you want, anything, just don’t stop, please don’t stop, want you to fuck me, please keep fucking me—”
Tim gripped her hair tightly, yanking her head up. “Take it, sweetheart,” he groaned. “Take this dick, baby, c’mon.”
With every thrust, her body jolted, and she was moaning a seemingly endless slew of, “Unh, unh, unh, unh—“ while he fucked into her, stretching her out in the way she loved so much.
“Such a good little slut for me,” he grunted. “Letting me fuck you, begging for it like the cock-starved whore you.” The grip he had on her hair tightened. “Gonna give me a baby, aren’t you, sweetheart?”
“Yes,” she moaned, her core clenching around him again at the reminder. “I want your baby, Tim, I—”
“I know you do, love,” he murmured, smacking her ass again, making her whimper. “We’ll plan the next one, how ‘bout that? Fucking you full so I can put a baby inside you will be so much more fun now that you know it’s gonna happen. Would you like that?”
“Mhm,” she gasped. “I want— I want— oh fuck—”
“Use your words, Lea,” he chastised. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want you to use me,” she moaned, arching her back as he pounded into her. “I want— I want you to fuck me, feed from me, get me pregnant as many times as you want, just— just do whatever you want with me, please, I want it, I want it.”
“Fucking hell,” he groaned, and with another smack to her ass, he snapped, “C’mere.” And then he grabbed her hips and hoisted her up a bit so she was resting on her forearms, her torso raised off the table. He reached around her body, circling her clit in swift, precise swipes, and she moaned. “You’re gonna cum for me, you got that?”
“Yes,” Lea agreed hoarsely without hesitation. “Anything you want.”
“Want you to cum on this cock, baby,” he growled. “Do as I say. Cum for me.”
She wasn’t sure what it was; it could’ve been the way he fucked her and rubbed her clit—he was so good at that—or it could’ve been his command, but either way, she came abruptly, her orgasm ripping through her like a tidal wave.
He fucked her through it until he, too, found his release.
She lay there on the table in a fucked-out daze for several long minutes. Two separate instances of sex within an hour really drained her. She was barely even aware of being picked up and carried back to bed.
“C’mon, sweetheart,” he murmured, tucking her in and wrapping her in his arms. “Sleep.”
So she did.
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In Your Dreams
Moodboard by @softhecreator
Chapter Six: You Got Inside My Head & Set A Fire There Instead
AO3 info one two three four five six seven epilogue
All my work is 18+.
Maybe I know somewhere deep in my soul that love never lasts, and we’ve got to find other ways to make it alone or keep a straight face. And I’ve always lived like this; keeping a comfortable distance, and up until now I had sworn to myself that I’m content with loneliness, ‘cause none of it was ever worth the risk.- Paramore, The Only Exception
Lea really hadn’t meant to stick around for so long. She’d figured that once he’d, uhhh, ‘claimed’ her or whatever, that would be enough, that she’d be able to go back to her shared shoebox apartment with its windows all facing brick walls and the kitchen she couldn’t turn around in and the doors that didn’t stay closed and her cold bed, to her rapidly increasing student loan debt and her crippling anxiety and the constant, neverending sense that something about her life was wrong.
In any case, she had intended to go home once Tim was in the clear.
She was showering the following afternoon, staring out the window that overlooked the city. Water droplets from the shower dripped down the glass, and Lea sighed, tilting her head back to finish rinsing her hair and wondering how in the hell she was gonna go back home after all this.
“Well that’s a sight I could get used to.”
She damn near jumped a foot in the air at Tim’s voice echoing off the marble floors, immediately rushing to hide behind the wall of the large shower.
He laughed. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you, I was just appreciating the view!”
Lea blinked rapidly, trying to process what was happening. She still hadn’t fully processed the night before, and here she was, butt naked, totally regretting using his shower rather than one of the ones in the guest rooms. He had fuckin’ five of them, so it wasn’t like there wasn’t space.
After several bests of silence, the only sound the running water from the shower, he softly said, “Are you afraid of me?”
Lea jolted towards the clear shower door, looking at him around the corner of the wall. “Of course not!” she squeaked, eyes wide.
He looked back at her, his gaze sad. “Then why are you hiding from me?”
She glanced down briefly at his body, only just now noticing his nudity. “I just…” She gulped. “I just feel weird about you, like. Seeing me this way, y’know?”
Frowning outright then, Tim asked, “I’ll admit I’m pretty casual about being naked, living as an incubus for several thousand years will do that, but why on earth would you be shy with me?” When she didn’t answer right away, he added, “I’ll respect your feelings, don’t get me wrong, I just— you’re my mate, we had sex a few hours ago, and I legitimately cannot fathom why you’d feel weird. Will you please help me understand?”
“I’m… not used to being naked in front of anyone,” she admitted softly, standing back upright to lean against the wall of the shower, hidden from him again. “Like, okay, how often do you have to, y’know. Feed?”
There were a few seconds of silence as he considered this. “I dunno. Every few weeks, maybe?”
“Right,” Lea confirmed her understanding, “and do you feed from a different woman every time?”
“Usually, yeah,” he said slowly, as if he were trying to figure out where she was going with this.
“And that’s even when you were in relationships?”
He was silent for a few moments again. “I can only feed from humans, and I haven’t been involved with one romantically in I don’t even know how long—centuries, at the very least, maybe longer—, so I had to… with other women.”
“You were with another human before?”
“Yes.”
“Who was she?”
“Her name was Alane.”
Lea’s heart thudded in her chest.
“Did you love her?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
He sighed, and she heard him slide down the outside wall of the shower.
“I’ll have to tell you eventually, I guess.”
“You don’t have to,” she assured him hurriedly.
“No, you need to know.” A deep breath. “She was a Gaul, captured by Romans. I knew what they did to women, so I went to help. No clue why, I’m fucking useless with that kinda thing, but I went to help. But when I got there…” He let out a hoarse laugh. “She’d killed two of them and was working on a third.”
“Jesus,” Lea muttered.
“Totally covered in blood,” he went on, “I think she would’ve tried to kill me, too, if I hadn’t blurted some random shit out in French. Gave her enough pause to let me help her escape, I guess.”
“Then… why aren’t you with her now?” Lea asked softly, hoping he wouldn’t notice the quiver in her voice.
“We were together for a few human lifetimes,” he admitted. “We were careful—we were so fucking careful—but birth control wasn’t an exact science then, and, well… I told you that most women can’t stay pregnant with an incubus’ baby.” Another snort. “Stubborn girl—she was a lot like you that way, actually; maybe that’s what attracted to me to her in the first place, was her similarities to my future mate—refused to let me get it flushed out of her. I told her, I told her she couldn’t survive it, but she was damned and determined to try anyway.”
“And then?” she asked shakily.
“She died.” His voice was soft, almost hesitant. Regretful. “She died because she loved me.”
Despite the rather intense jealousy she was feeling, her heart ached for the pain he’d been through. It was clear he blamed himself for Alane’s death.
Taking a deep breath and steeling herself, Lea reached out and opened the shower door. The hot water was beating against her skin, the sound of it almost drowning her out when she whispered, “You can come in, too.” A slight hesitation. “If— if you want, I mean.”
There was silence for a few long moments before she heard him stand, and then he stepped into the shower.
His hair was tousled from sleep, but his skin wasn’t sallow anymore; the bags under his eyes were gone, too. He was still a bit thinner than she knew was normal for him, but he definitely looked better. Healthier.
He closed the door behind him, gazing down at her and not taking his eyes off hers. “It wasn’t your fault, Tim.” He grimaced, so she reiterated, “It was not your fault. It wasn’t your fault she got pregnant. It was an accident. It wasn’t your fault that she chose to continue the pregnancy, either. None of it was your fault.”
He wasn’t grimacing anymore, just kinda studying her expression. “You aren’t jealous?” He looked almost disappointed, the prick.
“I never said I wasn’t jealous,” Lea admitted slowly, “but I don’t want you to blame yourself for something that’s not your fault. I don’t like seeing you in pain.”
A small, soft smile twitched at the corners of his lips, and he took a step closer to her, taking one of her hands in his. “Everything’s less painful when I look at you,” he murmured. “Hearing your voice, seeing you smile, touching your skin— it sets me at ease. Even when I was close to death, whenever you were next to me, it felt like everything would be alright.”
Tears filled her eyes at that, and she looked away. “Tim…”
“I think,” he went on in that soft, sweet voice, “that I could conquer the world if you held my hand while I did it.” After a moment, he added, “Plus, you’re jealous, it’s very obvious, and it’s awesome—“
Lea flushed, crossing her arms over her breasts with a grumble of, “Like you wouldn’t be jealous, too, demon boy.”
“Psh,” he scoffed, waving his hand dismissively. “You kidding? I’m jealous of everyone that’s so much as looked at you.”
“You’re a dork,” she muttered, fighting off a smile.
“Maybe,” he shrugged. “Or maybe I just love you.”
She couldn’t stop herself from smiling then.
“Are you done showering?” he asked quietly.
Lea blinked, surprised at the question. “I should probably rinse my hair again. Might still have conditioner in it.”
He stepped closer, and her heart lurched up into her throat at the anticipation of feeling his skin against hers again, but he just reached behind her and took the handheld shower nozzle.
“Turn around.” It was a soft, gentle command, but it was a command nonetheless. Steadfastly ignoring the fluttering in her abdomen, she obeyed, turning to face the marble tiles of the wall and adjusting her hair so it fell in a wave of dark red curls down her back.
“Lean your head back,” he told her gently. She did so, keeping her eyes shut, and he held the nozzle close to her scalp and ran his fingers through her hair, careful not to miss anything. “Did you comb your hair out already?”
“Y— yeah,” she mumbled, pointing vaguely in the direction of the wide-tooth comb that sat on the ledge with the various shower-related items.
He hummed before continuing to rinse out her hair in silence.
Once he was done, he leaned forward to replace the shower nozzle again, and the one on the ceiling began to cascade down onto them once more. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around her so her back was against his chest. And stomach, too, because he was a tall bastard.
Tim’s arms were around her waist, just below her breasts, and his thumb brushed the underside of one of them.
Lea gulped anxiously, wishing he’d touch her fully, grab her breast the way he’d done the night before. “How are you, uh… how are you feeling?”
“What d’you mean?” he mumbled into her hair.
“Well, you almost died yesterday,” she said slowly. “So, how are you feeling?”
His arms tightened around her. “I’m alive. You’re here. I’m alive because you’re here. So I’m doing pretty fuckin’ awesome, I’d say.”
She reached up and brushed her hand gently over one of his, lacing their fingers together.
“I’m glad you’re okay.”
She felt him shrug. “I wasn’t expecting to be, but I’m not gonna lie and say I’m not thrilled about you loving me.” He paused momentarily before admitting, “And also that you let me fuck you. That was pretty great.”
He moved her hair to one side and started kissing her neck then, and she squeaked in surprise. “Are you, uh… are you hungry again? Not— not for food, I mean, but like, for… y’know…”
She could hear the smirk in his voice, feel it against the damp skin of her neck. “I only need to feed every few weeks,” he reminded her. “However, that doesn’t mean I don’t want to fuck you again, because I very much do. It’s less about my biological need for it and more about my love for my incredibly sexy mate and the natural desire I have to watch said mate’s tits bounce as I fuck her until she cums on my cock.”
Lea’s face flamed, the sensation intensifying further when she realized he was hard behind her.
“But,” he was saying, “we don’t have to. I will never try to make you or convince you to do anything you don’t wanna do.”
“I know,” she said, tightening her fingers over his. “You almost died ‘cause you didn’t wanna risk guilting me.”
“Doesn’t mean I don’t want you,” he murmured, one of his hands sliding down her side to grasp her hip firmly. “God do I want you.”
“Tim,” she exhaled, leaning back against his chest.
“Baby.” His voice was hoarse, desperate, and he went on, “Do you want that? I won’t ask you to if you don’t want it, but if you do…”
Flushing, she looked at her feet and said, “Maybe we could… go back to bed?”
“If you want.” He shrugged before gesturing to the windows. “The windows are tinted, though. No one can see in; they look completely black from outside.”
She blinked rapidly, eyes wide. “Oh?”
“Mhm,” Tim confirmed, taking her hand in his. “So why don’t you just jump up here—“ he guided her to the windowsill, encouraging her to sit down. “—And spread your legs for me?”
“Are you sure you wanna—“
“Lea,” he cut her off, voice serious, “knowing you want me, I think that I cannot possibly handle the prospect of not having you.”
“O— okay,” she managed.
“Good girl,” he praised with a smirk, stepping between her legs, his hands on her knees. “Gonna make you feel good, baby.” He reached between them, gripping his dick and guiding it to her entrance, pressing against her.
Lea bit her lip, whimpering. “Please, Tim, I can’t—“
“Can’t what, sweetheart?” he crooned gently, rubbing his cock up and down her folds teasingly. “Tell me what you want.”
Embarrassment gone, she begged, “Want it, want you, want you inside me—“
“Good girl,” he told her again before sliding into her.
She moaned, her head falling back against the glass of the window.
“So fuckin’ tight,” he grunted, pulling out briefly before slamming back in.
He was looking down at her, and she marveled at how gorgeous he was; the city lights behind her were glinting off his jawline and cheekbones and those red fucking eyes—god, he was feeding from her again, he was feeding from her again—, and his hair hung in soaked curls, longer than it usually was so it nearly brushed his shoulders, water droplets falling from the tips of the strands and onto his bare skin.
It was looking at him, at how insanely, ridiculously, unfairly sexy he was, that caused a desperate, fervent need to touch him to overtake her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down to kiss her. He obliged, slanting his lips over hers with a startling amount of ferocity, but it was short-lived because then he was trailing kisses down the column of her throat before taking the tender skin between his teeth and sucking.
Moaning, she threaded her fingers through his hair, and he groaned at the sound she’d made, thrusting in again. “Made for me,” he grunted against her damp skin. “This pussy was fuckin’ made for me.”
Her fingers tightened around his curls, holding him against her neck as he repeatedly kissed the bruise he’d given her. “Feels— feels good,” she gasped out, spreading her legs wider, wanting him to fuck her senseless, fuck her until she couldn’t walk or move or breathe.
Tim righted himself again, leaning his forehead against hers, his red eyes boring into hers, pinning her there against the window as if each snap of his hips didn’t have the same effect. “You like it?” he wanted to know, the words an exhalation brushing against her lips. “You like it when I fuck you?”
Nodding jerkily, Lea arched into his touch when he reached down to grasp one of her breasts, tugging sharply on the nipple. “I like it,” she admitted, her voice breathless. “God, please don’t stop—“
His hips jackhammered against her, and he slid one hand up to cup her neck, the one on her breast moving to grasp her hip so as to hold her in place. “No god here, baby,” he muttered, stroking her skin affectionately. “Just you and me.”
Something about this statement made her feel as if she had the sun inside her, starlight under her skin, and she wanted nothing more than to keep him there, to stay there with him, safe in his apartment, their own little world. Nothing existed outside of what they had together, outside of what he was giving her, of what she was giving him. It was just the two of them, and she felt as if as long as he was touching her, nothing else ever could.
It was quiet and unprompted when she gasped out, “I love you. I love you, Tim.”
The hand he had on her neck slid up to her cheek, and he leaned down, kissing her with desperation equal to that of his thrusts into her. “I love you, too,” he said against her lips, into her mouth. “More than anything. You’re everything, Lea. Everything.”
She could’ve sworn that the sun inside her shone through at that, and if anyone looked at her, they’d go blind from it. Instead of responding, she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, pulling him closer. He let her, allowing her to kiss him as much as she wanted, returning her kiss with fervor. He took her lower lip between his teeth and tugged on it lightly, making her moan and close her eyes.
“No,” he growled when he released her lip. “Look at me. Look at me. I want you to see who’s fucking you, who’s making you feel like this. I don’t want you to ever forget.”
Lea opened her eyes, difficult as it was, and gasped out, “Could never forget you. Love you too much and you feel too good, fuck but you feel so good—“
His lips quirked into a smile against hers. “Yeah?” He kissed her again, the hand on her hip tightening, his fingers digging into her flesh. “Feels good when I give it to you, baby?”
“Mhm,” she whimpered, undulating her hips as best she could despite being seated and pressed up against the window. “More, I want more, please.”
“Such a polite request,” he mused, leaning down to kiss the bruises he’d left on her throat. “You know I’d never refuse you, don’t you? My sweet girl, all mine.”
He gave a particularly harsh thrust at that, and she moaned loudly in delight, her fingernails digging into his shoulders. “‘m yours,” she agreed immediately. “Yours, Tim, all yours— fuck—“
“Good girl,” he groaned, thrusting into her again. “Been waiting all my life for this, sweetheart, all my life for you, for your perfect little pussy, all for me, fuckin’ made for me, baby, made to take this cock.”
Something about what he was saying—babbling, if she were honest—made the heat that was already swirling in her abdomen to grow, intensifying further and spreading throughout her body, a tingling sensation that made her feel like she was burning, like there was fire beneath her skin, in her veins. She was made for him. She was his, she wanted to be his, to belong to him. How could she not, when belonging to him felt so good?
“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, “can I make you cum? I wanna make you cum. I can feel the way you’re clenching around me, I know you want it, I can tell, just let me—“
“Yes,” she cut him off without hesitation. “Yes, you can make me cum, yes yes yes yes yes—“
“Fuck,” Tim grunted, snaking a hand between them to where they were joined and finding her clit with practiced ease. He may not have had much experience with her body specifically, but he knew exactly what to do anyway, how to make her quiver and shake and scream. Plus, by the time he brushed his fingertips over her clit, she was so turned on—by the way he was fucking her, the way he looked when he fucked her, how he was looking at her, the things he said as he pounded into her relentlessly, everything—that his touch had her moaning loudly, her toes curling. She was already so fucking close and he’d barely started stimulating her. “So good for me, sweetheart,” he groaned in her ear. “Give me those pretty little noises, baby, c’mon. Wanna hear you say my name.”
“Tim,” she moaned desperately. “Oh fuck, Tim, I’m gonna— I’m—”
“That’s it,” he encouraged gently, rubbing her clit faster. “Give it to me, Lea. Cum on my cock, wanna feel it.” When she moaned wordlessly—though his name could probably be deciphered if one tried hard enough—and tightened her legs around his waist, her core clenched down on him, and then a few more swipes to her clit combined with punishing thrusts had her bursting apart at the seams.
He fucked her through her orgasm, his eyes such a bright shade of red they almost glowed. Still, once it had ended, he didn’t stop rubbing at her, instead growling into her neck, “I want another. Gimme another, sweetheart.”
Lea’s pulse was thrumming in her clit already, so it wasn’t exactly a difficult feat to manage. He kissed her neck wetly, murmuring words she couldn’t quite hear into her skin. She couldn’t seem to formulate any speech at all, only capable of desperate, high-pitched keens of, “Ah, ah, ah, unh—” over and over again until his touch sent her over the edge a second time.
“Gonna fill you up, baby,” he grunted. “So pretty when you fall apart, gonna fill you with my cum, Lea, fill this sweet little pussy up, love you so much, baby, so fuckin’ much, fuckin’ take it—”
She could do nothing but whimper and cling to him, yearning for him to cum inside her, to fill her exactly as he was promising to.
And then he did, release finding him with an almost pained-sounding moan of her name.
Her head was buzzing, her ears were ringing, and the room—the shower, they were still in the shower—was wobbling. So when he panted against her neck for a few minutes before pulling back to kiss her briefly and step away, she nearly collapsed to the marble tiles of the shower floor.
Tim caught her, pulling her close with one arm and reaching to turn the shower off with the other. “‘s okay, baby,” he murmured, pressing a sweet, gentle kiss to her scalp. “Let’s get you back in bed, okay?”
“O— okay,” she mumbled, her voice sounding groggy even to her own ears.
Tim opened the shower door and grabbed a towel that was hanging on the rod and drying her off, having her lean against the wall as he did so.
Was sex always so exhausting, or was it just her? Maybe it was ‘cause she had no experience prior to him.
He hung the towel back up and took her hand again. “Do you want me to carry you, sweetheart?”
“No,” Lea assured him, horrified at the thought even through her exhaustion. “I can walk.”
“Okay,” he agreed, though he sounded a bit reluctant, “I’m gonna be right here, so fall against me if you need to.”
She hummed in acknowledgment as they made their way out of the bathroom and back to bed. He pulled the covers up over her and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“I’m gonna go make you some food, okay?”
“Mmkay,” she mumbled.
And then she was dead to the world.
Tim’s sweet, gentle voice eased her into wakefulness.
“Lea, sweetheart,” he said, a hand on her shoulder.
“Mmf,” she grunted into the pillow.
“I brought you some food,” he told her. “An omelet with hashbrowns and bacon. Extra crispy, just how you like it.”
The guy knew her well, he really did. But she was so tired.
“You’ll feel much better after you eat,” he promised. “Cmon, baby. Will you sit up for me?”
She groaned, pushing herself up onto her palms. “There you go, sweetheart,” Tim encouraged. “God, you’re so cute when you’re tired.”
“I feel like I shouldn’t be this tired,” she grumbled in annoyance, tucking the blankets under her arms so her chest was covered. “I just woke up a little while ago.”
Tim blushed, settling the tray of food in her lap. “It’s, uh… it’s an incubus thing. You’re tired because I’ve consumed your energy. I’m sorry. I’d avoid it if I could.”
“Oh,” Lea said with a hum, picking up her knife and fork. “It’s okay. If the consequence of you not starving is me being tired, I don’t mind.”
“You’re a fuckin’ saint,” he muttered, sitting down on the bed next to her.
She let out an inelegant snort. “You make me tired and then provide me with food. Not gonna complain about it.”
“I absolutely do not deserve you.”
Lea glanced up at him from her meal. “You literally brought me breakfast in bed.”
“Yeah, but—“
“Don’t care,” she cut him off. “You’re being sweet. No complaints.” She smiled softly at him in reassurance.
He took her hand, holding it tightly in his. “Okay.”
He didn’t let go of her hand the entire time she was eating.
No, really. She really hadn’t meant to stay so long. She’d ended up staying for a month and a half, though. But in her defense, Tim was really sexy, and he was being so wonderful to her, and she loved him so much.
It was hard to reconcile with the fact that all of it was temporary, that she’d have to return to her boring, shoebox apartment and her day job.
And then she missed her period.
But it was nothing to worry about, right? There was no reason for her to be concerned. She was on birth control, had been for years. She’d missed periods before, usually when she was stressed. It was probably the next semester looming over her head.
Tim was ordering some delivery from the grocery store—he rarely went out for such things himself; a privacy concern, he’d said—and asked her if she needed anything.
He knew what sort of food she liked, so that wasn’t a concern. However, even if her period was late, she’d definitely be getting it soon.
“Uh, yeah,” she told him when he asked what she needed. “Some tampons, I think.” She paused. “And some Midol. And a heating pad.”
He blinked, raising his eyebrows in surprise. “Uh… okay, but why?”
She looked at him skeptically. “Why do you think? I’m about to get my period. It’s a little late, so it should be coming any day now.”
He frowned outright at that. “Um, Lea. There’s a reason your period is late.”
She hummed in acknowledgment, hunting through the drawer in his closet he’d temporarily dedicated to her clothes for a fresh pair of panties. “Stress about school, most likely.”
“No,” he said slowly. “It likely won’t be coming at all.”
She paused, turning around to face him. “Why not?”
“Because… because you’re almost certainly pregnant.”
Tag list
@ellamaianderson @shika1200 @blackqueenstarseed1 @gatoenlaciudad @esmaada @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @softhecreator @timolaurence @timmymyluv @oddlyenoughiamweird @leecrunchybones @s-we-e-t-t-ea @almostg @leespparker @bubblebuttwade @glizzymcguirex @starberry-cake
To be added, please ask 💗
#my writing#fanfiction#fanfic#fanfics#Timothée Chalamet#Timothée#timothée chalamet x oc#timothée chalamet x original character#timothée chalamet fanfiction#timothée fanfic#timothée chalamet fanfic#incubus timothée chalamet#Timothée Chalamet x original female character#Timothée Chalamet x ofc#timothee#timothee fanfic#timothee chalamet#timothee chalamet fanfiction#timothee chalamet#timothee chalamet x oc#timothee chalamet smut#Timothée Chalamet smut#timothee chalamet x original character#Timothee Chalamet x ofc#timothee Chalamet x original female character#incubus!timothée#RPF#actor rpf#real person fanfic#real person fic
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In Your Dreams
Moodboard by @softhecreator
Chapter Four: Visit Me When I Am Dead & Gone
AO3 info one two three four five six seven epilogue
All my work is 18+.
Darling, don’t you weep. There’s a place for me, somewhere we can sleep. Darling, don’t you cry. Head fast towards the light. Foolish men have tried, but only you have shown me how to love being alive. Until it’s time to see the light, I’ll make my own with you each night. I’ll kidnap all the stars and I will keep them in your eyes… Darling, don’t you weep. There’s a place for me, somewhere we can sleep. I’ll see you in your dreams.- Halsey, Darling
She froze. All thought ceased.
“I—“ she sputtered. “What?”
“You’re my mate,” he repeated. “I know you don’t want any sort of relationship, so I never told you. I wouldn’t have told you at all, honestly, if you hadn’t asked. I only wanted to see your face when I…” he trailed off.
Her legs chose that exact moment to give out, and she collapsed on the bench next to him. “I can’t be.”
“You have a mark on your pelvic bone. Raised, like a scar,” he informed her, as if she weren’t aware. He sounded exhausted, as if every word was a great effort. “It’s the outline of a star with eight points.”
Lea stared at him. “How do you know about my birthmark?”
“It’s not exactly a birthmark.” He closed his eyes, seemingly too tired to keep them open. “It’s a symbol of fertility.”
“A symbol of what?” she squeaked out, aghast. “It’s just a birthmark. My sisters have it, too, it’s genetic—“
“Of course it’s genetic,” he chuckled. “That doesn’t mean it’s a birthmark.”
“How are you so sure what it is, then?”
“The culture that first identified the mates of my species had a seven-pointed star as a fertility symbol,” Tim went on. “I don’t know how or why you have it. I was too far away when the marks first appeared and the first incubus—or succubus, who knows what it was?—was born millions of years before I was, and word didn’t exactly travel quickly in those times. It’s only been fairly recently that I learned the exact origin of the marks. They didn’t always exist.”
She furrowed her brows in thought. “Where are you from, exactly? Where do incubi come from?”
“Sumeria was where the marks come from,” he sighed, leaning his head back against the bench. “No one remembers when or where incubi came into being. Could be the beginning of time, I don’t know. If the first ones are still around, they certainly don’t remember anything from that long ago. As for me, I was born in southern France. My mom’s human and my dad’s an incubus—she and my dad wear glamours around people who aren’t aware of what my dad is—so they don’t actually look any older than me. Anyway, the civilization my mom was born into is long dead. I don’t remember the name of it. Neither does she. It’s been a long time.”
“So…” She gulped nervously, her throat tight. “You’re closer in age to your mom than you are to me?”
He turned to face her again. “I suppose I am, yes. She was younger than you when she had me.”
“This is… weird,” she admitted.
“I imagine it would be weird for you,” he agreed with a nod. “It’s not weird for me, though. My dad and my mom are further apart in age than we are.”
She blinked. “How old is your dad?”
Tim shrugged. “No clue. I don’t know and neither does he. It’s been too long. He remembers the agricultural revolution, and that he was very old by that point already.”
She stared at him in disbelief. “The agricultural revolution was twelve thousand years ago.”
He nodded. “Yup.”
“Your dad is twelve thousand years old.”
He shook his head then. “No. Like I said, he was older than he could remember by that point. We aren’t sure, but we suspect he’s at least twenty thousand years old. He recognized some pictures of pottery we saw from around that time.”
Her head was spinning.
“And my birthmark— how do you know it’s… that?” she asked anxiously.
“My parents are like us. That’s how we reproduce, is with our mates. I’ve known what to expect from my mate since I could talk, and I’ve known what the marks mean for centuries.”
“And if you haven’t seen mine, why are you so sure I have it?”
He opened one eye, his lips lifting up into a small, barely-there grin. “Are you sure you want me to answer that? You may be happier not knowing.”
Lea narrowed her eyes at him. “Tell me.”
“Very well,” he sighed, closing both eyes again. “I want a lot of women on some kind of base level. Maybe even most women. But it’s never specific, really. It doesn’t feel directed at anyone in particular. With you, though…” A wistful sigh. “As soon as I met you, I knew that I needed you and no one else. I have this ridiculously strong urge to fuck your brains out, and it never really goes away.” She blanched at his crude words, but he continued. “But I don’t just want to fuck you, I need to fuck you. When I’m with you, everything in me is constantly screaming to hold you down and put my child inside you, over and over and over again. From the moment I looked into your eyes for the first time, I knew I wanted—needed—to hold you and kiss you and love you. I didn’t even know your name, but I knew you were meant for me.”
It didn’t make sense. It made no fucking sense. “Are you messing with me?” she demanded.
Now that she was no longer touching him, his skin was getting paler by the second, and his breaths were getting more and more shallow.
“No, I’m not. I know I look like shit right now,” he informed her. “Come closer to me and take my hand. I’ll show you what your proximity, your touch, does to me.”
Skeptically, she sat down close to him on the bench and took his hand.
“Watch,” he murmured, threading their fingers together.
Lea observed closely as, starting at where her hand was clasping his, his skin regained its natural color and his breathing evened out again.
“What’s happening?” she asked nervously, her voice shaky and hesitant.
“Your touch alone could probably keep me alive for another week or so, provided it’s nonstop.” He considered for a moment. “It certainly doesn’t hurt that you’re so attracted to me, either. Sexual attraction doesn’t do much, really, but it makes my situation more pleasant.”
“I’m— I’m not—“ she sputtered, and Tim laughed. It wasn’t unkind, merely… amused.
“I’m an incubus, sweetheart,” he reminded her gently. “I know when someone is sexually attracted to me.”
She flushed, looking down at their clasped hands instead of directly at him. She didn’t want to let go of him; what if it was the only thing keeping him alive?
“Don’t be embarrassed.” He reached over, brushing her hair from her face and cupping her cheek so as to tilt her face up towards him again. “You’d be attracted to me even if you weren’t my mate. It’s probably somewhat stronger because you are, though.”
Lea had always thought she’d done a pretty good job of ignoring his rather obnoxious level of sexiness. She looked down, her face still flaming.
“What do you remember of the dreams?” he asked after a moment.
Her head snapped up. “The… the what?”
“The dreams,” Tim repeated with a smile that quickly morphed into a chuckle at her expression. “I’m an incubus, remember? I don’t generally enter dreams, but I had to know how you felt about me.” A wistful smile. “And anyway, I couldn’t have planted anything in that pretty little head of yours if you didn’t want it already. Plus, if you’ll recall, it was you who initiated the sex, not me.”
She sputtered uselessly. “I— I don’t know why I—“
Tim chuckled. “It’s alright. At least I won’t die from your lack of wanting me. That would be a tremendous blow to a creature like me.”
“If only I can save you, what do I need to do?”
“As I told you before,” he sighed, “nothing I’d ask of you.”
“But I can do something,” she persisted. “Tell me what it is.”
He stared at her. “I think you know what it is, Lea.”
When she blushed this time, it spread all the way down to her chest, below the hemline of her shirt. His gaze followed it, making her skin feel even more heated.
“How far does that flush go, I wonder?” Tim murmured. After a moment, however, he seemed to shake himself out of whatever stupor he’d fallen into and his eyes met hers again. “In any case, I’m not telling you this to try to convince you of anything.”
“I don’t want you to die, but I can’t—“ she cut herself off, tears filling her eyes. “I can’t do that, I promised myself I would never do that with anyone, I—“
“I know,” he assured her gently. “I know. It’s okay. I never expected you to. I’d never coerce anyone into sex, but you…” He sighed again, looking away from her momentarily. “You are everything. I want you to have whatever it is you want. If me giving you what you want means me not touching you, I’m happy for that.”
Her eyes widened. “You shouldn’t feel that strongly for me, Tim.”
He smiled ruefully at her. “If you’re saying I shouldn’t love you, my darling, I’m afraid it’s far too late for that.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“Why not?” he asked. “As soon as I met you, you became the center of my existence. Everything I am revolves around you now. That’s how it’s meant. You told me in one of your dreams that you can’t give someone power over you, and I said that it’s you who has power over me, but the truth is, that doesn’t really scratch the surface of precisely how much power you have over me. An incubus’ mate holds his existence—his happiness, his life, the very core of his being—in the palm of her hand. I’ve always known that my mate would bring me one of two things: either eternal happiness and love… or death.” He took a breath. “And I’m fine with that, Lea. Truly. It doesn’t bother me.”
“But you have so much left to do,” she reminded him tearfully. “So much left to be, to experience.”
He smiled slightly. “I would’ve made more movies, I suppose. But other than that, I’ve experienced just about everything there is. I learned to read and write in cuneiform. I saw the fall of Troy and was there when Rome was founded, and when it fell. I met Socrates and Plato. I remember Charlagmne’s coronation and the Norman Conquest. I found it amusing to play Henry V because I knew him. I’ve seen the Plague overtake Europe and Joan of Arc’s execution. I remember Columbus—he was a total dickhead in person, too, by the way—, the American and French revolutions, both World Wars— you name it, I can probably tell you where I was at the time. I’ve seen everything there is to see, experienced more than anyone could ever dream of, and I promise you, the idea of dying no longer scares or bothers me.”
“But I don’t want you to die,” she insisted. “You… you mean a lot to me.”
Tim stared at her. “I know,” he said after a few beats, “but you can’t give me what’s necessary to keep me alive, sweetheart. It’s okay. I don’t mind it. I’m not upset with you, and it’s not your fault I need this from you to survive.”
Tears were trickling down her cheeks, and he reached out to brush them away.
“Don’t cry for me, love. This is probably the best way I could go, aside from being naked in your arms.”
“Is there anything else I can do, any other way I can help?” she persisted.
He hummed. “You could kiss me, I suppose. It wouldn’t—“
Lea didn’t even let him finish before she leaned over and pressed her lips to his. He was frozen for a moment before wrapping an arm around her and pulling her closer, his free hand sinking into her hair. She didn’t know how to kiss, really, but if this would help him, would save him, she’d do it as long as he needed.
The tears wouldn’t stop falling, though, so he eventually pulled away from her and brushed them from her face again. “You’re still crying,” he observed.
“I don’t want you to die,” she sobbed miserably. “I want to save you. I want to help you.”
“Kissing me will buy me a few hours. Maybe a day. You can’t save me, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”
She buried her face in his neck and cried harder.
He rubbed her back reassuringly. “It’s alright, love. Your happiness comes first.”
“I’d be happier if you lived,” she sniffled.
Tim sighed, burying his nose in her hair and inhaling deeply. “You don’t want to be with me the way I need, Lea,” he reminded her gently. “And that’s okay. I’ve held you, I’ve kissed you— I will die a very happy man.”
Eventually, after a bit more kissing—tearfully on her part—, he had enough strength to where he insisted upon walking her home.
She hugged him before he walked away from her doorstep, sobbing into his chest some more. “I don’t want you to die. I want to help.”
“You could kiss me again and buy me a few more hours,” he teased gently.
She still did it, though, teasing or not, and he kissed her back slowly, passionately.
Lovingly.
Finally, he pulled away, leaning his forehead against hers. “Goodbye, Lea.”
With one last sweet, gentle kiss, he left, and she knew she’d never see him again.
Goodbye, Tim.
Tag list
@ellamaianderson @shika1200 @blackqueenstarseed1 @gatoenlaciudad @esmaada @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @softhecreator @timolaurence @timmymyluv @oddlyenoughiamweird @leecrunchybones @s-we-e-t-t-ea @almostg @leespparker @bubblebuttwade @glizzymcguirex @starberry-cake
To be added, please ask 💗
#Timothée Chalamet#Timothee chalamet#Timothée#timothee#timothée chalamet fanfiction#timothée chalamet fanfic#timothée chalamet x original character#timothée chalamet x oc#Timothée Chalamet x original female character#timothee chalamet x oc#timothee chamalet#timothee chalamet fanfiction#timothee fanfic#timothee chalamet x original character#incubi#incubus timothée chalamet#incubus!timothée#original character#my writing#fanfiction#fanfic#original female character#ofc#fem!oc#fem! oc#real person fiction#real person fanfiction#real person fic#real person fanfic#actor rpf
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Okay so I’m writing a mermaid au, obviously, veeeeeeeery loosely based on The Little Mermaid with some inspiration from an old Hiccstrid fic by @hiilikedragons. For those of you familiar with my fics, you may recognize my OC, Lea, who is—naturally—the mermaid here. It’s actually not historical, it’s modern and Tim is himself. The basic summary is he’s a dumbass who got drunk and/or high while on a rich person yacht, fell off and bonked his head, and our girl’s gotta save him. Unfortunately, he accidentally triggers a mermaid mating season within her, and she can’t return to the ocean permanently until, you guessed it, she has his baby. Her fear of humans, especially male humans, only elevates her desire to get away from this famous human man and return home to the ocean. Things are further complicated by his very public relationship.
#Timothée Chalamet#Timothée#timothee chalamet#Timothee#timothée chalamet x reader#timothée chalamet x oc#Timothée Chalamet x original character#Timothée Chalamet x original female character#Timothée Chalamet x y/n#Timothée Chalamet x you#timothee chalamet x reader#timothee chalamet x you#timothee Chalamet x y/n#timothee Chalamet x oc#timothee Chalamet x original character#timothee Chalamet x original female character#mermaid#mermaids#original character#original female character#original mermaid#OC#Timothée Chalamet smut#timothee Chalamet smut#timothee x reader#timothee x y/n#timothee x you#timothée x reader#timothée x you#Timothée x y/n
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Title of Your Sex Tape
Chapter Three: Lie Still, Close Your Eyes
AO3 one two three
Yes, yes, I know. It took me three months. In my defense, I was writing Confessions. And also, this is pretty standard for me; that’s why I usually don’t post until the fic is done. But anyway, enjoy.
Take it home, take it off, ‘cause I can’t take anymore; it’s your touch, it’s your taste, it’s your dress on the floor. Take it home, take it off, ‘cause I’ve been waiting all night for you and this is what I’m gonna do. Ice, ice, mealy your heart; baby girl, let down your guard. Rush, rush, for that touch; just one taste, can’t get enough.- The White Tie Affair, Take It Home
Tim texted her all weekend. At first, she wondered why he was texting her. She figured maybe he was contacting her about a work thing, though she had no clue what that might be.
As it turned out, it was not at all a work thing. He never mentioned work once. He really had wanted to know more about her schooling. He told her about his family, that his father was French, like from France levels of French, that he’d spent summers there with his grandparents as a kid. His sister was an aspiring actress, and he wanted to be one, too, but had some difficulty getting into more than just commercials. She wondered if he was any good.
By the time Tuesday rolled around, Lea knew tons about him. She knew his middle name (Hal) and she knew his birthday (December 27th). She even knew where he’d gone to high school.
He’d opened up to her so quickly, so easily, as if the story of his life was written on the pages of a book sitting in front of her, just waiting to be read. She found herself confiding in him, too; she told him about her mother and sisters, that her father had abused her mother and was no longer around. At one point, he’d ask her outright if that was why she’d never kissed anyone before, and she confirmed his guess despite her embarrassment.
Still, despite knowing him quite well by the time they next saw one another, she was terribly nervous about seeing Tim again.
When he came to pick her up and she slid into the passenger side of his car, he was beaming at her, looking her up and down.
“Hi!” he exclaimed happily. “You look adorable.”
Lea blinked up at him. “Oh, um.” She gulped anxiously. “Thanks.”
He drove off, prattling away about something or other. When they arrived, he opened the car door for her and offered her his hand. She took it, stepping out onto the pavement.
Tim was grinning down at her like she the mere sight of her was the best thing he’d seen in his entire life, and he didn’t let go of her hand as they walked through the doors.
————————————
He’d shot for so long that it was early one evening several weeks later by the time he was driving her home, and he walked her to her apartment building, the bustling New Yorkers swerving around them.
Lea turned back to face him, her cheeks pink from the memory of the orgasm he’d given her earlier that day as they’d kissed hungrily. “Well,” she said awkwardly, “thanks for the ride home. I appreciate it.”
“Not a problem,” he told her with a smile, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. She gave him a little wave and turned towards the door of her building to go inside, but he stopped her. “Lea?”
Turning back towards him, unsure of what the tone in his voice meant— if it meant anything at all, for that matter. “Yeah?”
He shifted from one foot to the other, like he was anxious.
What on earth could a man like that have to be anxious about?
“Would you like to have dinner with me sometime?” The words came out rushed, flowing from his lips like a waterfall of syllables, and it took her a few seconds to decipher them.
Once she had, however, her eyes widened until she rather resembled an owl. “W— what?” Lea squeaked.
Tim brushed his hair from his eyes, shooting her a small smile. “Would you like to have dinner with me?” he repeated, a bit slower this time.
“I…” She couldn’t seem to formulate words. Or maybe they just refused to come out. She wasn’t sure. Either way, it took a few loud thuds of her heart before she was able to force any sound from vocal chords. “Wouldn’t, uh. Wouldn’t that be like… a conflict of interest or something?”
He laughed quietly, taking a step closer. “No, of course not. Just me thanking a beautiful girl for helping me do my job.” After a moment of him staring down at her, he added, “I honestly don’t know how I ever managed without you.”
She swallowed. “Glad I’m able to help, then.”
She considered his request as he looked down at her expectantly. Would she get in trouble? She knew she couldn’t, like… date him or anything, of course not. He had sex with other women, and regardless of the reason he was doing it, how was she supposed to deal with something like that? But he’d said it was just to thank her for helping him and she did enjoy his company.
What could be the harm?
“Yeah, okay,” she finally conceded. “If you’re sure it’s okay.”
“Positive.” He seemed so damn happy about her agreeing that she honestly didn’t know how to react. He was… disarmingly attractive.
It was distracting.
He took her out the following night after she got out of class.
She did her makeup and dressed in a fairly nice dress, but not so nice she thought she might be seen as trying too hard.
Okay, so maybe she liked him a little bit. Big deal. It’s not like anything would ever come of it, anyway. He’d never made a move on her outside of work, and that was most definitely for the best on account of the whole… pornstar thing.
He was sweet and courteous and, as she understood it, a perfect gentleman.
On Thursday, Lea found herself being tugged by the hand into his dressing room, and she was immediately pinned against the door with his lips on hers and his hands squeezing her hips.
She moaned into his mouth, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him back. Tim hiked up the skirt of her dress and slotted his knee between her legs, rubbing against her panties insistently.
She was panting by the time he moved on to her neck, kissing and sucking the sensitive skin there as she arched into him. “Touch me,” she begged.
“Fuck.” The word was a groan against her throat, his teeth grazing her flesh, and he reached up with one hand to squeeze her breast. “So big,” he murmured. “What I wouldn’t give to see them. Suck on them.”
She leaned further into his touch, and he squeezed a bit harder. “You want to see…?”
“I’ve never wanted to see a woman naked so badly in my life,” he informed her bluntly, pulling back from her slightly.
Lea gulped.
Okay, so looking up at him now, she realized two things. First, that her feelings towards him were most definitely of the romantic sort. Second, she trusted him enough to see her naked. This was odd, as they were friends and nothing more—outside of work, of course—, but she actually kind of wanted him to, which was a bizarre realization in and of itself.
“I can… I can show you,” she told him hesitantly. His eyes widened, and she continued. “If… if you’d like to see, I can show you.”
“You don’t have to,” he assured her hurriedly.
“I know,” she said with a small, hesitant smile. “I don’t mind. I trust you.”
He smirked at her, then took her by the hand and walked backwards towards the couch before plopping down on it.
She was wearing a casual, flowy green dress that ended just above her knees, and he gripped the edge of the material lightly, watching her flushed face intently. “Why don’t you strip for me?”
“W— what?” she squeaked.
Tim’s hand traveled up beneath her dress, just past the hem. Not too high, but just enough to make her core clench. “Stra-rip,” he enunciated slowly.
She watched the way his mouth moved with each syllable; he was mesmerizing. Then, slowly, ever since slowly, she lifted her dress up over her head and dropped it next to him on the couch. She was wearing bright pink panties—with her hair being red, she never got to wear pink where people could see it, and she quite liked pink—, and her bra was a soft cream color with a little bow in the middle.
Bras in Lea’s size were always rather uninspired.
“God,” Tim groaned, yanking his shirt off. “You’re so fucking sexy.”
“Thanks,” she said awkwardly, fidgeting with a curl that had fallen loose from behind her ear. He was pulling his pants off, his boxers following shortly after, and Lea flushed when she saw how hard he was.
He pumped himself with one hand and trailed a hand up her bare thigh with another. “Do you still want me to see you? Are you okay with that?”
Nodding, she nibbled on her lip before reaching behind her back and unclasping her bra. She slid the straps from her shoulders and, without looking at him, let the garment fall to the floor. She watched it do so and then continued to stare at it as she bent over to pull her panties down.
When she stood back up, he stared at her for a moment before reaching out to touch her again, his hands lightly brushing against her outer thighs, then sliding up to her waist. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse, rough. “Can I…”
Lea nodded jerkily, finding herself unable to speak just then.
His hands—so large, so warm, so soft—moved to cup her breasts gently, his thumbs swiping over her pebbling nipples, and she inhaled sharply.
“You like that?” Tim asked quietly, the words hesitant, almost. When she nodded wordlessly, he squeezed a bit harder. “You’re so beautiful. God, your tits… they’re unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”
She laughed shakily. “I seriously doubt that, given your choice in career.”
He shook his head, squeezing again and pinching each nipple between his thumb and forefinger, making her whimper. “No,” he breathed. “No one else’s have ever been attached to you, Lea.”
She gasped, arching into his touch.
“Fuck,” he groaned. “Can I suck on them? Please? I want them in my mouth.”
“Y— yeah,” she agreed.
He grabbed her by the hips and yanked her closer, latching onto one of her breasts immediately and beginning to suckle.
It felt incredible. She hadn’t been expecting it to feel quite so good, actually. Lea threw her head back, clutching his hair with a low moan. He growled against her skin, taking her nipple gently between his teeth. She gasped, pressing his face further into her breast. He reached around to grip her ass with both hands, squeezing it eagerly.
“So fuckin’ hot,” he muttered as he switched to the other breast.
“Tim,” she whimpered, “that feels—“
“You like it?”
She nodded shakily, her chest heaving.
Suddenly, he pulled back from her, gripping her arms and looking into her eyes intently. “Lea,” he began firmly. She blinked down at him in response, in somewhat of a daze. “Can I… can I eat you out?”
Her mouth fell open. “You… you wanna do that?” She swallowed anxiously.
Tim nodded vigorously. “I really, really want to. We don’t have to, of course, but…” He glanced down at the apex of her thighs. Most of what his eyes were searching for was concealed, she knew—thigh gap? What’s that?—, but he could see some of her. When he spoke again, his voice was a little choked-sounding. “But god do I want to.”
She swallowed again—or tried to, anyway; her throat was too dry for her to manage it—before nodding. “Okay. If… if you want to.”
“Don’t feel like you have to,” he insisted firmly, taking her hands in his and squeezing them. “You can say no or tell me to stop or slow down, anything you want. Whatever you’re comfortable with is okay.”
“No, I…” Lea let out a slow, shaky exhale. “I trust you,” she said again. “And… I want you to.”
He groaned, pulling her down so she’d replaced his spot on the couch, and then he spread her legs and knelt between them.
Tim kissed her inner thigh softly, his gaze hot on hers. “You’re sure you want this?”
“Yes,” she breathed.
He smirked. “Good.” With that, he nipped her thigh, chuckling softly at her little gasp of surprise before trailing more kisses closer and closer to where she really wanted him.
Was she shaking? She might’ve been shaking. One of his hands left her leg to reach up and squeeze her breast, rolling her nipple between his long, nimble fingers.
Lea whimpered, arching into his touch. He was so close to where she needed him. She was clenching repeatedly on her own emptiness, and she thought she’d die if he didn’t give her what she needed.
Then, his fingertips finally—finally—brushed against her wetness, and he hummed low in his throat with interest.
“Fuck,” Tim murmured, “you’re soaked. You really want this, huh?”
Too embarrassed to confirm this verbally, she clenched her eyes shut and nodded once.
“No, no,” he told her placatingly, moving the hand on her breast up to cup her cheek. “Don’t be embarrassed.” Lea squinted her eyes open hesitantly to find Tim smiling softly up at her, like he was trying to reassure her. “I like that I made you this wet. It’s sexy.”
She gulped. “Really?”
“Mhm.” He nipped her inner thigh again, and she chewed the inside of her lip.
“I’m gonna make you feel so good, Lea,” he promised.
The way Tim was looking at her was heated, but it was also a question— he was asking for a final stamp of approval from her before continuing. She nodded once, and that was all he needed.
The hand on her cheek migrated back to squeeze her breast and tweak her nipple, and he dove in. Lea yelped when she felt soft, gentle licks along her slit, just barely brushing over her clit. Still, his eyes watched her face closely, reading her expressions and paying attention to each reaction he elicited from her.
“Can I put my fingers inside you?” he breathed, the heat of his exhalation on her wet, flushed skin making her shudder.
“Yes.”
The first finger slid in easily, and he curled it within her before pulling it out again and thrusting two fingers back into her this time.
She gasped, lifting her pelvis to meet his touch. “Fuck, you’re…” He inhaled sharply. “You’re really tight.”
Should she thank him? Was it a compliment? What—
Tim nipped her inner thigh again, and she yelped. “Stop overthinking,” he chided gently, looking up at her with dark eyes. “Don’t think. Just feel.” She nodded back at him unblinkingly, and he grinned. “I’m gonna lick you now, okay?”
“Okay,” she breathed, focusing on the way he was moving his fingers inside her and not on what he was about to do and how self-conscious it made her.
With that, he brushed his tongue against her clit in a feather-light touch, and Lea jolted. It was strange— warm and wet and altogether foreign. She wasn’t entirely sure what she’d been expecting, but it wasn’t this.
He licked her again, just as light as before, but more slowly this time. He thrust his fingers in and out of her, curling them each time, never taking his eyes off her face, not even for a second. Swirling the tip of his tongue around her clit, he reached up with his free hand to squeeze her breast and tweak her nipple.
Lea whimpered, arching her back and throwing her right arm across her eyes. He licked a bit faster, and she moaned low in her throat, reaching down with her left hand to hold him against her without even really thinking about it. He chuckled softly, and the vibrations made her clench around his thrusting fingers.
“Feel good?” he wanted to know, rubbing her clit with his thumb. She nodded jerkily, her eyes clenched shut beneath her arm. “Good.”
With that, he resumed licking her, his tongue moving faster now, making her breath come in short, gasping pants. The hand she had in his hair clenched, and he must’ve known she was getting close.
Tim seemed to know her body better than she did, which made sense as he’d been the one to give her her first-ever orgasm just s grew weeks ago, but she wasn’t able to think about that. As it happened, she wasn’t able to think about anything at all. Her mind had been filled with fog, and she couldn’t formulate a single thought.
He took her clit between his lips and sucked on it gently, curling his fingers inside her again, and she exploded with a gasp of his name.
Lea panted, her arms collapsing at her sides. The room was still spinning when he pulled his fingers out of her and sat up, grinning like he’d just won the lottery.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and sat on the couch next to her.
“So,” Tim began, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her against him, “how’d you like it?”
She stared dazedly at the wall across from the couch. “That was…”
Words. Words were hard. How could she even describe that experience?
“…Amazing,” she finally decided.
“Good.”
Lea was about to open her mouth to say something—she wasn’t entirely sure what—, but there were several swift raps from the other side of the door that cut off her thought before it had entirely formed.
“We’re ready for you,” came the voice of a production assistant.
“‘Kay,” he called through the door.
Wait, she thought in a bit of a panic, I didn’t touch him, what if he’s not hard—
But then he stood, and she saw that he was, in fact, very hard.
“Here,” he told her quietly, handing her her clothes and waiting patiently as she dressed. “I’ll see you after, okay?”
Lea nodded, watching as he strolled from the room with that casual confidence she was quickly growing to adore, and tried to push down the jealousy brewing in her stomach at the knowledge of what he was about to go do.
Aaaaaaand that’s chapter three! Please give me all of your thoughts! All. Of. Them.
Tag list: @meetmyothersouls @ellamaianderson @shika1200 @blackqueenstarseed1 @gatoenlaciudad @esmaada @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @softhecreator @timolaurence
#my writing#fan fiction#fanfic#timothee chalamet#Timothée chalamet#timothee Chalamet fanfiction#Timothée Chalamet fanfiction#Timothée fanfiction#timothee fanfic#real person fic#real person fanfic#real person fanfiction#Timothée Chalamet x original character#Timothee Chalamet x original character#Timothée Chalamet x original female character#Timothee Chalamet x original female character#Timothée Chalamet x oc#timothee Chalamet x oc#smut#Timothée Chalamet smut#timothee Chalamet smut#pornstar!timothée
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Title Of Your Sex Tape
Chapter Seven: Maybe This Is Danger
AO3 one two three four five six seven eight
All my work is 18+.
It’s 5am, we feel so good it’s almost frightening. It’s 5am; I’m made for you, we can’t deny it.- Måneskin, HONEY (ARE U COMING?)
Lea stirred, rolling over in the warmth of the bed with a soft, unintelligible murmur. Squinting her eyes open, she saw…
She saw Tim fast asleep beside her, his curls hanging in his eyes and his lips slightly parted. Her eyes widened in surprise, and then she remembered everything that had happened the night before.
He’d… and then she’d… and they had…
Holy fucking shit.
Lea pushed herself up into a sitting position, blinking at the light filtering through the curtains that lined two of the walls of Tim’s bedroom.
The blankets had pooled at her hips, and she flushed at the realization that she was still naked. Climbing out of bed, she wobbled a bit on unsteady feet.
“Be careful,” came Tim’s raspy, sleep-ridden voice. Lea’s head whipped around, and she saw him rubbing his eyes blearily. “What’re you doing up, anyway? Come back to bed.”
She blinked at him over her shoulder. “I— shouldn’t I, y’know… leave?”
He frowned at her. “Leave? Why in the hell would you leave?” he scoffed quietly. “No, Lea. You most definitely should not leave. You should come back to bed and get some more rest before I take it upon myself to fuck you again.”
“You want me to stay?” she squeaked out, shocked. “Don’t one night stands usually leave, like…?”
“Yes,” he said impatiently, “I obviously want you to stay. I’d rather be holding you at the moment, as magnificent as this view of your ass is.” He paused. “And what the hell do you mean one night stand? Who said this was a one night stand?”
It took her a second to process this. “I… I’m not a one night stand?”
He raised his eyebrows at her. “No. I thought I made it abundantly clear that I want you to be my girlfriend.”
“You— you do?” she stuttered out, astonished.
“I really, really like you, y’know. Of course I want you to be my girlfriend.” He paused, looking a bit nervous. “If— if you’d want that, I mean. I figured since you said you like me, you’d want to be with me, too. Was I wrong?”
She looked down at the floor. “You weren’t wrong, no.”
“So… what’s the issue, then?” he said slowly.
“I mean… you, like…” She didn’t know how to relay her concerns about his career without shaming him. It wasn’t that what he did was wrong, that wasn’t it all.
“What is it?” he asked gently.
“You’re a pornstar, Tim,” she explained, her voice quiet.
He was silent for a moment. “So?”
“So… doesn’t that make, like… dating not an option for you?”
His frown deepened. “No. Why would it?”
“Well…” she hedged. “You sleep with other girls for a living. Like. That’s your whole job. Am I just not supposed to be jealous of that?”
He didn’t say anything for a few seconds. “Are you jealous of that?”
She flushed. “Yeah, of course I am.”
“Baby,” he sighed, propping himself on an elbow, “sex between you and me has meaning. Sex at work is literally just work. It doesn’t mean anything the way it does with you. If you agree to this, I’d only be with you romantically, and other than work, I’m not touching anyone else.” Another pause. “Is that something you’d want with me?”
“Of course I want that with you, Tim,” she sighed.
“Then…” She could almost hear him gulp. “Would you be willing to look past my job?” He hesitated. “I— I promise I’ll be faithful to you.”
“I know you will.” She clasped her hands beneath her abdomen, wringing them anxiously.
“God, your tits look amazing when you do that,” he observed.
She glanced down at herself, realized he could see her body, oh god, how had she not thought of that, of course he could see her, even in the low light of his bedroom, and she scrambled back into bed as quickly as possible, pulling the covers up over her head.
“Why’re you embarrassed?” Tim asked, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her against his bare chest. “You’re way too sexy to be embarrassed about your body.”
“I’ve never done this before,” she reminded him in a grumble. “I’m not used to guys seeing me naked.”
He hummed thoughtfully, pulling the covers down to reveal her head and burying his face in her curls. “No other guy ever has to see you naked if that’s what you’d prefer,” he murmured. “I certainly wouldn’t have any objections to that. In fact, as your boyfriend, I’d prefer that.” His arms tightened around her slightly. “I… I am your boyfriend, right?”
She smiled softly despite herself, closing her eyes and leaning into him again. “Yeah.”
In the weeks that followed, Lea’s relationship with Tim changed very little, for all intents and purposes. She helped him when they were at the studio, complied whenever he wanted to take her shopping or to dinner, and she did homework on his couch.
There were a few things, however, that had changed. For starters, Tim freely admitted that he was now going to do exactly as he liked in relation to her without holding back in the slightest, which generally involved touching her, kissing her, and a lot—a lot—of sex.
He was an extremely touchy-feeling individual, always had been, and it seemed that the floodgates had been opened, meaning he was forever holding her, nuzzling her, kissing her, and/or groping her. She didn’t mind it, really. In fact, she enjoyed it so much it was downright embarrassing.
One Monday evening, she dozed lightly after they’d finished. He was running his hands over her skin affectionately, occasionally squeezing her breasts without thinking about it.
“Lea?” Tim asked after awhile.
“Mmf,” she grunted into the pillow.
“Do you really have to go home tomorrow?”
“I have class the day after, so yeah,” she mumbled.
“You could just stay here,” he pointed out, pressing a slow kiss to her bare shoulder. “With me.”
“But it’s a school night,” she reminded him, parroting back what her mom had told her every time she’d wanted to have a sleepover on a Sunday.
Tim snorted. “You’re an adult, sweetheart. You can stay here if you want to, whether you have school or not.” He started kissing her neck and squeezing her breast. “I don’t work the days you have school, y’know. I could drive you. We could fuck before you went in and when you got home.”
He twisted her nipple, and she whimpered softly, biting her lip. “Are you, like… asking me to stay here… long-term?”
“Mhm,” he hummed against her skin. “Makes it easier, don’t you think?” With that, he slid a hand between her legs. “I could hold you whenever I want, kiss you whenever I want. Fuck you whenever I want. Wouldn’t that be nice, baby?”
“Mhm,” she breathed as he started rubbing her clit.
“I want you with me all the time,” he told her. “You make me so happy, Lea.”
“You make me happy, too,” she admitted.
“Yeah?” She could feel the smile on her skin, hear it in his voice. “God, I fuckin’ adore you. Move in with me, sweetheart. Please.”
She giggled. “Okay. I’ll stay here if you want me to that bad.”
“Oh, I want you in a hell of a lot of ways.”
“Fuck, baby,” Tim groaned, his hand tightening in her hair as he fucked her mouth. “Just like that. Fuck.”
At that exact moment, there was a swift rapping on the door to his dressing room. “You’re needed on set, Tim!”
“Alright,” he called out in a voice that was far too controlled-sounding for someone who was currently having their dick sucked.
Lea pulled off of him and wiped the saliva from her lips without looking up at him. It was harder now that they were having sex and living together. He said he liked her an insane amount, but it was growing into more than that for her. She was fully cognizant of the fact that she was falling in love with him and could do absolutely nothing to stop it. So this— having to let him go so he could be with other girls the same way he’d only just been with her, it was… difficult. She did it, though. She adored him, so she did it.
He put two fingers beneath her chin and tilted her face up. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I know you want it. I’ll fuck you as soon as I’m done, alright?”
She nodded, allowing him to help her to her feet. Sliding a hand into her hair again, he pulled her in for a kiss that was hungry and desperate. He pulled away after a moment, though.
“Wish it wasn’t Mackenzie.”
“You really don’t like her, huh?” she observed.
He grimaced. “She yells at the production crew and is incredibly entitled. No, I don’t like her. No idea how I managed before I had you.”
With a wink, he strolled from the room.
“Tim!” came Mackenzie’s high-pitched screech through the door of the dressing room. “You can’t just storm off to fuck your girlfriend at the end of a scene!”
“I need my fluffer!”
Lea looked up from her phone at the sound of his voice, blinking in surprise, and was about to stand, unsure of what to do as she heard the sound of his bare feet on the linoleum. The door to his dressing room opened then, and his eyes searched the space frantically for her before fixating on her unblinking stare.
She glanced down at his dick. He was hard still, leaking precum from the tip. Within seconds, he locked the door behind him and strode over to her.
“Fuck,” Tim groaned, reaching for her breasts with one hand and her ass with the other.
She moved away hastily, her back hitting the wall. He froze.
“Baby? What’s wrong?”
This was a valid question for someone who didn’t—couldn’t—understand her predicament. After all, she’d never refused him before and was always eager for his touch.
“You were just with another girl,” she reminded him.
Tim looked confused. “Yeah, for work,” he said slowly. “I was having to think about you to stay hard.” He took a hesitant step towards her, gauging her reaction closely. “The girls they put me with, they’re either gonna be my type in about twenty years or they’re these tiny little things with nothing to grab onto. It’s very difficult to imagine you’re them when they look nothing like you.”
She tensed at the further reminder of other women. How many had he fucked that day? She didn’t want to know.
He took another step forward. “Please, baby,” he practically begged. “I’ve basically been edging for the past two hours, thinking about how much I want you, that I wasn’t here to take care of my baby girl, fill her little pussy up and keep her satisfied, and if I don’t get inside you, I’m fairly certain I’m going to go insane.”
He was close to her now. She could kiss him if she wanted. It wouldn’t be difficult. No more than it usually was with their height difference, anyway.
“I wiped myself down,” he promised. “Don’t you want me to give it to you nice and hard, just the way you like?” He was speaking softly, his offer of pleasure oh so tempting. “Fill you with my cum and use my fingers to keep every drop inside you so you’re never empty?” After a moment, he added, “That said, I won’t pressure you if you really don’t want to.”
God, Lea could never resist him when he talked like that. Her lips parted, and his gaze fixated on them. He knew her tells.
His eyes dilated, and he slammed his mouth against hers, gripping her thighs briefly and reaching up beneath her skirt to yank her panties down and off.
Tim stroked between her legs, groaning when he touched her heat. “So fucking wet for me,” he muttered, kissing her hungrily.
He tasted different.
She ignored it.
Tim pressed her up against the wall, his nude body looming over her. “Pull your shirt down, angel,” he purred. “Let me see those tits.” She did so, reaching into her bra and shirt and pulling her breasts from their confines. He reached up to tug her nipples, twisting them lightly. “Fuck, baby. I wanna watch them bounce while I remind you who owns that pretty little pussy.”
Something odd about Tim, she had learned, was that despite his choice in career, he was inexplicably possessive.
“You do,” she breathed as he hiked her legs up around his hips, holding her up by her ass.
Tim slammed into her with a groan, and she inhaled sharply, her head thunking against the wall behind her. “God, Lea,” he gasped, immediately fucking her hard and fast against the wall. “Fuck, no one feels the way you do.”
“Tim,” she moaned, her eyes fluttering. “I— that’s so good, I—“
He leaned forward to mouth at her neck, and she arched against him. “Yeah?” he rasped in her ear. “Feels good getting fucked, babydoll? You like it?” He started mouthing at her neck and squeezing her ass, his fingers digging into her skin.
“I like it, I like it,” she chanted desperately. “Fuck, don’t stop, more—“
“My greedy girl,” he murmured, slamming into her. “So tight and wet for me, baby. All for me, isn’t it? Pussy’s all mine?”
“Uh huh,” she managed to force out. “God, you’re so big—“
“Nobody else could fill you up like I can, could they, sweetheart?”
“N— no, I—“
Tim rewarded her with another thrust. “Good girl. That’s my good girl.”
“More, please,” she begged, holding him close. He felt so good inside her. “Please, don’t stop, please—“
“Anything you want, Lea,” he promised, kissing her hungrily. “I’ll fuck you anytime you want, make you cum as much as you want, but you whatever you want. Whatever you want, fuck.”
“You,” she said without hesitation. “Just you, please, oh god, Tim, I—“
“I know,” he murmured, nipping at her lower lip affectionately. “You’ve got me, sweetheart. ‘m all yours.”
He wasn’t, not really, but she told herself that that was okay. It was okay.
“Are you mine, Lea?” he wanted to know, watching her with dark, lidded eyes. She nodded eagerly. Apparently, however, her lack of verbal response was inadequate, because his grip on her ass tightened enough to bruise, which she kinda hoped it would, to be honest. “If you’re mine, tell me. Tell me you’re mine. Only mine.”
“I’m yours,” Lea managed. “I belong to you, just you, I—“ Her words were cut off by a particularly harsh thrust that made her body jolt and her eyelashes flutter. “Oh, fuck, Tim, I—“
“That’s it,” he grunted. “You like it? You like it when I fill your greedy little pussy, my fuckin’ pussy, baby, all mine, I own it.” He was babbling, but his words made her clench around him. “You like it when I fuck you all full of my cum, Lea?”
“Yes,” she whimpered. “Need this, need you, need you inside me like this, I need it.”
“Of course you do,” he crooned, his voice a sugar-sweet murmur against the shell of her ear. “Poor, innocent little Lea. Had my dick and now you can’t get enough, huh? Got turned into a greedy cockslut, didn’t you?”
She wrapped her arms around his neck, hauling him up to kiss her again. “Only for you, Tim,” she promised. “Only if it’s you.”
“Always me, babydoll,” he agreed easily. “Nobody else. Not ever, you got that? Only dick you’ll ever take.”
“Yeah,” she moaned, tangling her fingers in his hair as he jackhammered into her, the sound of skin slapping against skin bouncing off the walls of his dressing room. She didn’t know if anyone outside the room could hear them, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care one way or the other. “Yeah, Tim, just you, just you, I swear—“
“Fuckin’ take it, sweetheart,” he growled, sucking a fresh bruise into the sensitive skin of her throat. “Take this cock like the dirty little slut I turned you into.”
“Harder, harder, more—“
“Nuh uh,” he snapped sharply. “Who decides what you get, Lea?”
“You do,” she acquiesced with a whimper even as her walls clenched down on him.
“That’s a good girl,” Tim praised, his voice raspy and thick with arousal. She was drenched; the sounds of their desperate, hungry fucking were wet and obscene, but she never wanted to hear anything else but that, the sounds of them together and his voice telling her that he adored her, that she belonged to him. “My good girl.”
She wished she could take him deeper inside her, wished she could melt into him entirely, and her legs tightened around his waist as he pounded into her. “Fuck me, please, god, Tim, fuck me—“
“I am fucking you, greedy girl,” he pointed out with a dark chuckle. “Splitting this little pussy open on my dick.”
“Uh huh,” she whined, her walls clenching around him rhythmically. “Yeah, that feels— oh fuck, Tim, gimme—“
“Givin’ it to you, baby,” he muttered. “Gonna fuck you as much as you want, I promise.”
“Kiss me,” she pleaded, suddenly overcome with a desperate need to feel his mouth against her own. “Kiss me, please.”
She could feel his smile against her lips when he obliged her, tugging her lower lip gently between his teeth before sucking her tongue into his mouth. She moaned, her fingers tightening in his curls, her breasts pressed against his chest.
When Tim pulled away, he began pressing wet, messy kisses into the skin of her face and neck, mouthing at the tops of her breasts. Still, he fucked her, each slide of his cock somehow better than the last, and she wished, however impossibly, that she could have this forever, that this complete and utter bliss could never end.
“Baby,” he groaned, panting hotly against the already flushed—sensitive, bruised—skin of her throat. “God, baby.”
“‘m yours, Tim,” she whimpered, her eyes clenched shut from the overwhelming amount of pleasure coursing through her veins like a drug. “All yours.”
“You’re goddamn right you are,” he almost growled. “Wanna feel this tight little pussy cum for me. You want that, baby? You wanna cum all over my cock?”
Want fluttered in her abdomen, and she nodded eagerly. “Yes, please, please make me cum.”
“Touch yourself, then,” he demanded, fucking her harder, impossibly harder. “Rub that pretty little clit until you cum.”
As soon as the words registered in her fucked-out brain, she snaked a hand between them, brushing a fingertip over her throbbing, oversensitive clit, and he rewarded her by digging his fingers into her ass and slamming into her.
“Good girl,” he praised, watching her face closely, eyes dark and pupils blown with lust. “Rub it, sweetheart. So pretty when you cum, when you’re getting your sweet little pussy pounded.”
She barely even needed to move her hand at all because his thrusts were jolting her body enough that that was all that was needed to stimulate her, really, and she moaned, her hips trying to roll against his but unable to with the tight hold he had on her. She couldn’t speak; all that came out of her mouth were mindless cries of, “Unh, unh, unh, ah, oh—“
And still, through it all, Tim talked to her. “That’s it,” he encouraged. “Cum for me, Lea. Such a dirty thing, aren’t you? Needing to be fucked and filled, to cum with a cock deep inside your slutty, eager little pussy?”
She could do nothing but moan wordlessly, her toes curling as she neared her peak.
“C’mon, babydoll,” he groaned. “Can feel you ‘bout to cum, sweetheart. C’mon. Give it to me. Own this pussy, every fuckin’ orgasm you have belongs to me. My pretty little slut, fuckin’ cum for me, baby, c’mon—“
And then she did, her back arching and muscles spasming as she cried out. Tim didn’t even give her body time to calm down before he crashed his lips to hers, kissing her bitingly as he fucked into her.
“Gonna cum,” he warned into her mouth, and she wrapped her arms around his neck to encourage him. “‘m gonna—“ He wasn’t able to finish the thought, because he flooded her with a groan of her name, his thrusts becoming harsh and slow and deep.
It wasn’t until several minutes later, when they were relaxing on the couch with her in his lap, that it occurred to her that she was in love with him.
The happiest of birthdays to my bestie @softhecreator, you’re fuckin awesome girl and if anyone tells you different lmk and I’ll take care of it 😘
Also yeah I was horny when I wrote the smut here idk what else to tell you bro 🤷♀️
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To be added, please ask 💗
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Title of Your Sex Tape
Chapter Five: Soft Breath, Beating Heart
AO3 one two three four five six seven eight
Mayday, situation overload; I’m restless, obsessed with your future. And all my worries, they don’t bother you; collected, you render me useless.- All Time Low, For Baltimore
She fidgeted anxiously in the back seat of the rideshare Tim had called for her. They weren’t FaceTiming anymore, but they were texting, and god were the texts dirty.
How much longer, baby ? I feel like I’m going insane from wanting to touch you
Just a couple more mins
Can’t wait to see you again, I wanna kiss you so bad
I want to kiss you, too
Wanna see how hard I am for you ?
Lea bit her lip at that, shakily typing out her reply.
Yes please
A picture came through of Tim stroking himself, and she had to fight back a whimper.
Do you know why I’m like this, Lea ?
Because it’s your job?
Because I’m thinking about you. I’m thinking about what you taste like, the way you kiss me, the way you moan my name. I’m gonna make you cum so hard when you get here
Suddenly, the car pulled to a stop in front of the studio. “Here we are,” her driver said with a polite smile. “Have a good one.”
“Thanks, you too,” Lea told him shakily before stepping out and hurrying inside.
“Lea,” the director said in surprise when he saw her walk in the door. “Wasn’t expecting you today.”
“Oh, um… Tim asked me to come by, so…”
“Ah,” the director nodded. “That makes sense; I suspect he’s gotten a bit spoiled by all the attention you give him. In any case, he’s—“
At that exact moment, however, the man in question burst out of his dressing room and marched over towards her with purpose, nudity and all.
The director blinked in surprise, as did Susie, one of the other fluffers that Lea had become work friends with. Tim paid them no mind, however, simply grabbing Lea by the hand wordlessly and pulling her towards his dressing room.
“You’re still wearing the stockings,” he observed as they stepped inside.
“It’s still cold outside,” she pointed out.
Tim locked the door behind them and pulled her towards the couch. “It’s cold, but you’re wearing that tiny little fucking skirt?”
Lea flushed. “You seemed to like it, so…”
He laid down on the couch. “Damn right I like it. Take your panties off.”
Lea took her shoes and socks off, then her panties, her movements quick and aborted.
He stared at her for a moment before deciding, “Sweater and bra, too. I wanna see your tits.”
She obeyed this command hastily as well. “What about the skirt?”
“Nuh uh,” he smirked. “No, you leave the skirt and stockings on.”
“O— okay.”
He grabbed her by the waist and yanked her towards him. “Good girl. Now sit on my face.”
Lea’s eyes widened. “I didn’t think you were serious about that!”
“You bet your sexy ass I was,” he said impatiently. “Sit. On. My. Face.”
She did so, feeling very hesitant and very embarrassed at having him see her body so close up, but Tim just groaned at the sight of her, took her ass in his hands, and pulled her down to him so he could lap at her. Lea yelped in surprise, because he hadn’t teased her even a little; he’d just gone right into flicking his tongue over her clit.
He reached up with one hand to twist her nipple sharply, his other hand kneading her ass. She began to roll her hips, tilting her head back at the exquisite sensations he was bringing forth in her.
“That’s it, baby,” he growled, the sound somewhat muffled. “Ride my face like a good little slut.”
Lea fisted a hand in his curls, holding him against her as he tugged her nipple and swirled his tongue around her clit in fast little circles. She was getting close and it hadn’t even been that long.
“Fuck, fuck, oh god, Tim—“
“You’re gonna cum for me already, aren’t you?” he murmured, his breath hot on her sensitive clit.
Lea nodded jerkily, desperate for the release only he was capable of granting her. “You’re gonna make me cum, I’m gonna cum, fuck I want it so bad—“
“Then cum,” Tim ordered sharply before taking her clit between his lips and sucking.
Lea spasmed, her hips bucking against his face as he worked her through her orgasm.
Shockingly, by the time she came down and was situated next to him on the couch, she wasn’t sated. He was hard, stroking himself, and her mouth was watering. She wanted…
“Tim,” Lea started hesitantly, “would you mind if I… tried something?”
He smirked, brushing her hair from her eyes. “What do you wanna try, angel?”
Reaching out and tentatively wrapping her hand around his throbbing length, beginning to stroke him, she very quietly said, “What if instead of my hands, I used my mouth?”
He froze. “Would you like to do that?”
Flushing, she nodded. “If— if you don’t mind too much.”
“Don’t mind too much?” Tim scoffed in disbelief. “Do you have any idea how often I think about you sucking my cock?”
Leaning across the couch so she could examine him closer, she recalled how she’d been afraid of this once. Now, though, all she wanted was to taste him. To have him inside her.
“Will you teach me?”
“I’ll teach you anything you wanna know,” he murmured. When she climbed on the couch and kneeled in front of him, he groaned. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous like that, on your knees for me.”
She reached out and gripped him in her hand, brushing her lips over his tip in a soft kiss. “I want you to tell me what you like, Timothée. I want to please you.”
“I have a feeling anything you do will please me,” he confessed with a breathy chuckle. “But since you’re asking, why don’t you just start with your tongue?”
Lea hummed, considering this, and then licked his tip, tasting the fluid that had beaded there. He inhaled sharply, and she did it again, slower this time. He tasted… interesting. Salty and musky and most decidedly male. Curiously, she swirled her tongue around the head, watching his reaction closely.
“There you go, sweetheart,” he rasped. “Now just… take it in your mouth. Only as much as feels comfortable, okay?”
She hummed again, doing as she was told. He fisted a hand in her hair, tugging lightly, and the sting in her scalp was far more delicious than she’d have expected.
“Fuck,” he groaned, and she lifted her eyes to watch his face. He was looking down at her, his cheeks flushed and eyes lidded and dark. “Suck your cheeks in, baby.” She did so, and he moaned low in his throat. “Good girl, good girl, just—“ he cut himself off with a gasp when she swirled her tongue around the head curiously. Something had come out of the tip, and it was weirdly salty, but not unpleasant. “Move up and down on it,” he pleaded. “Fuck, Lea—“
Something about the way he was looking at her, the sounds he made… it sent sparks through her veins, and without much thought, she slid a hand between her legs and started to rub herself. She wasn’t as good as him, not nearly, but even so, she moaned around his length at the relief of her throbbing clit being touched.
“Baby,” he groaned. “Oh, fucking hell, Lea. Are you… are you touching yourself, sweetheart?”
She didn’t verbalize a response, instead moaning and sucking him more.
Tim groaned regretfully, pulling her off his dick and up into his lap so as to kiss her neck.
“Why’d you make me stop?” she whined, wishing she’d been allowed to continue.
“Seeing you get so horny from sucking my dick that you couldn’t help but rub your pretty little clit— that was gonna make me cum, Lea,” he explained. She pouted. “Not to worry,” he assured her with a soft chuckle against the skin of her throat. “I’ll fingerfuck you till you cum.”
He slipped his hand between her thighs then, picking up rubbing her clit where she’d left off, and she moaned loudly. She felt his smirk against her neck, and then he slid two fingers inside of her, curling them with each thrust.
Still sensitive from her orgasm before, she could already feel a second one building.
“F— fuck,” she stuttered out in a gasp. “Feels so good.”
“You’re gonna cum for me already, huh?” he observed with another chuckle. “Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?”
Lea whined, threading her fingers into his hair. “‘m gonna cum,” she gasped out as he rubbed her clit faster and faster. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum—“
“That’s it, baby,” he murmured, using his free hand to toy with her nipple. “So pretty when you fall apart. Cum for me, sweetheart. Lemme hear you moan my name.”
“Tim,” she moaned obediently. “F— fuck, I—“ She couldn’t finish her statement, because then she orgasmed with a gasp of his name.
He slowly removed his fingers from her, wrapping an arm around her and kissing her shoulder affectionately. She leaned against his chest, burying her face in the crook of his neck.
“D’you need me to…” she trailed off, mind in a daze.
He snorted. “No, Lea. I’m good.”
She yawned. “You sure?”
“Oh yeah,” he confirmed.
Just then, there was a knock at the door and a voice said he was needed on set. Tim stood, stretching his arms over his head.
“Look,” Tim addressed Lea, who had settled onto the couch, already laying down. “Why don’t you take a nap?” He grabbed a blanket and settled it over her. “I’ll be back in a few hours. Have some lunch after you wake up, okay?”
“Mmkay,” she mumbled, already half asleep.
Look I told you guys I don’t update consistently okay this is why I usually wait until after the fic is done to post
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Moodboard by the incredible @softhecreator
Mr. Chalamet
chapter two: more than friendly
AO3 info one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven epilogue
All my work is 18+.
I fell apart when I got home inside my bed. I can’t think, can’t speak; I can’t move, can’t breathe. This is a white heart heat when you get next to me. When I’m around you, it’s like waking up the dead. My back’s against the wall, oh oh, and I’m feeling the pressure. Yes, I’m about to fall, oh oh. What I’m feeling, it’s torture. It’s unavoidable. You are a magnet, it’s unavoidable. I am metallic, so do what you do, do what you do to me.- Neon Trees, Unavoidable
It may have been strange, but Mr. Chalamet was Lea’s first male friend. If one could call one’s friend’s dad one’s own friend, that is. Which he certainly acted like one with her.
He was so nice. So ridiculously nice. He’d finished filming recently, so he’d be home for awhile, he had told her.
She spent a great deal of time over at their house, which, realistically speaking, who could blame her, really? It had a movie theater, for god’s sake.
Lea had become strangely comfortable with Mr. Chalamet, too. He was always so kind to her. And he was funny. Elle was forever teasing him for his jokes, but Lea thought they were hilarious. He seemed to revel in making her laugh, always smiling when he managed it. They’d become texting buddies (he’d offered to give her his motherfucking phone number), and he’d even invited her to follow his finsta and Snapchat, frequently sending her pictures and videos on the latter— sometimes in a group, sometimes just for her. He texted her memes and asked her how school was going. He expressed concerns about his job. They were friends, and it was weird.
She stared at him sometimes. She couldn’t help it. In her defense, though, he was so attractive it was downright obscene. He was a walking, talking orgasm, basically.
But one evening, he did something… so ridiculously, unbelievably sweet.
Lea had fallen asleep on the couch after a movie, and he had carried her up to the guest bedroom she slept in whenever she visited. He’d even tucked her in. He’d stayed for nearly thirty seconds—she had counted—before walking away. Her counting had pulled her almost entirely back to sleep, and his actions had fueled her dreams that night. She dreamt of him getting in bed next to her and holding her close.
It was after this that she sat down and made a list.
List Of Reasons Why I Absolutely Cannot Fall In Love With Timothée Chalamet
1. He’s married.
2. His wife is Lourdes Leon, Madonna’s daughter.
3. He’s sixteen years older than me.
4. I’m friends with his daughter.
5. His daughter (my friend!) has been alive for almost the same number of years he is older than I am.
6. He’s a huge celebrity. I am a nobody.
7. He clearly likes skinny girls. I am fat. He must think I'm disgusting.
8. He sees me as a kid, not a woman. He will never see me as a woman.
9. Even if he did, though, he still has to kiss and pretend to have sex with other women for work. He has to pretend to be in love with them. I’m jealous just thinking about it.
10. He’d never want me. Not in a million years.
And that was that. She put it from her mind.
Or tried to, anyway. It didn’t work. By the end of the semester, she knew it for certain: she was falling in love with him. It was inevitable. Perhaps it always had been.
So Lea did the only thing she could think of to do. As soon as the new semester started up and she and Elle were in Cinema Studies 2—this time they’d been able to request they be partners, although Lea hadn’t been able to think of a good excuse not to, plus she didn’t want to hurt her friend’s feelings—, she avoided him like he had rabies and was likely to infect her if she got too close. She wouldn’t spend the night anymore, and she didn’t watch movies with him anymore. He would sometimes come in and sit down while she and Elle watched a movie, but Lea was always sure to leave immediately. She was terrified that being around him, looking at him, hearing his voice— all of it would make her feelings so much worse.
Her twentieth birthday had come and gone, and he texted her for it. She thanked him, but otherwise didn’t speak to him hardly at all. And yet she daydreamed sometimes about what it would be like if he wanted her, too. If he wasn’t with someone else, if she wasn’t too young for him, no good for him. If he saw her the way she saw him.
Elle slept over at her and Sam’s apartment one evening.
“You’ve been sadder lately,” Elle said quietly into the darkness of Lea’s bedroom. “Are you okay?”
Lea hadn’t intended to fill Elle in on this particular development, but, well. The younger girl was too perceptive, and she knew her friend’s mannerisms too well by that point not to pick up on the change.
“I’m fine,” Lea assured her, “I just…” she trailed off with a sigh. “I like someone. A lot.”
“Ommigod!” Elle squealed, shooting bolt upright from her sleeping bag on the floor. “Who is he?!”
Lea was silent for a moment. “Someone unavailable,” she finally confessed, her voice quiet. “Someone who wouldn’t look twice at me in a million years.”
“Unavailable how?”
“He’s married,” Lea explained.
“Ohhhhhhhh,” Elle said. “Yeah, that would pose a problem. What’re you gonna do?”
“Nothing,” Lea said quickly. “I’m just gonna avoid him so it doesn’t get worse.”
“Why avoid him?”
“He’s really nice to me,” Lea admitted. “It sucks ‘cause I like hanging out with him, but if I keep doing it, I’m gonna end up falling in love with him, I think, and I don’t want to. He’s really smart, so he’d probably figure it out or something, and I don’t want him to be uncomfortable. I don’t want to make things weird.”
“You know what you should do,” Elle started, “is ask my dad for advice. He’s really insightful.”
“I know,” Lea agreed, “but I don’t wanna ask him, really. It’d be weird.”
“Why would it be weird?” Elle asked in surprise.
Because it’s him I’m falling for, she thought. What she said, however, was, “I don’t talk to, y’know. Guys. Especially not about feelings and whatnot.”
“He’s not a guy,” Elle laughed. “He’s my dad.”
“He’s still a guy, dude.”
“If you say so.”
“You won’t, uh…” Lea gulped nervously. “You won’t tell him, will you?” She quickly amended with, “Or— or anybody else, I mean?”
“Nah,” Elle assured her. “Of course not. Not unless you want me to. I do really think my dad could help, though. He gives great advice.“
Lea stared at the ceiling even though she couldn’t see anything.
“I’m sure he does.”
They were cramming for school, which, for Cinema Studies, meant their final project. Lea was subsequently over at their house a great deal.
It was Friday evening, and they’d just eaten a very late dinner. Mr. Chalamet had made it. Which, yeah, he could cook. Swoon.
“I’m gonna take a shower and pass out,” Elle decided. “Lea, are you staying or going home?”
“I should head home,” she said immediately. Perhaps a bit too quickly, in fact.
“In this rain?” Mr. Chalamet asked as Elle walked off. “Are you sure?”
“Uh… yeah,” she gulped anxiously, not looking at him. This was made easier when her phone buzzed as a completely irrelevant notification came through. “Oh, my ride's here.” She didn’t have a ride, but he didn’t have to know that.
“Do you have an umbrella?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she lied. “My purse is waterproof, too, so.” That, at least, was true. Her phone and wallet would be safe, even in the rain. It was fine.
Mr. Chalamet seemed skeptical, but let her leave without further questions.
Lea didn’t have a ride, though. She didn’t even have a raincoat. This was unfortunate, because she had to walk all the way off the Chalamet estate to the street and down to the subway.
Her hair was soaked (as was the rest of her) within minutes, and she knew she’d have a hell of a time stopping the frizz when she got home. She wondered what time it was. When she’d left, it had been just after eleven, what with how late she and Elle had been working. Mr. Chalamet had looked so gorgeous that evening that it had actually been painful to look at him. And he was so kind, making dinner for her and Elle, wanting to make sure she got home safely.
She was musing about it as she walked down the sidewalk not far from the Chalamets’, a car she recognized all too well pulling up against the curb.
She glanced at it, and, to her horror, Mr. Chalamet himself had cracked the window so he could speak to her without the rain getting in.
“Lea?” he asked, concern lacing his voice. “What’re you doing here?”
“I’m, uh…” She gulped anxiously. “I’m going to the subway.”
“I thought you said you had a ride.”
“They had to cancel last minute,” she quickly lied.
He pursed his lips. “Uh huh. Okay, I’ll take you home. C’mon.”
Lea’s eyes widened, and she shook her head rapidly. “N— no thank you,” she stuttered. “I’m fine taking the subway.”
“Not in this rain,” Mr. Chalamet insisted, “and definitely not this late at night. Get in the car.”
“No, really,” she assured him, “I’m fine. But thank you.”
“Lea,” he started, his voice slow and deliberate, “I am not letting you walk around the city alone in the rain at 11:45 at night. No way in hell.” When she hesitated further, contemplating how to refuse him in a way he’d accept, he added, “Get. In. The. Fucking. Car.”
She did.
He started down the road, and she stared out the window, watching rain. His car smelled like him, and with him so close to her…
Well. She just needed to pretend she was somewhere else.
“You didn’t have a ride home, did you?” Mr. Chalamet asked, sounding displeased. “Or an umbrella, apparently.”
She didn’t respond. He’d made her get in the car, and she couldn’t bear to talk to him. She was soaking wet, and somehow, that made her feel exposed. Vulnerable. Her mom had been vulnerable to her dad. That was why he’d been able to beat her. It was why she no longer had a dad, why she’d never grown up around boys. There was no danger of that with Mr. Chalamet for a whole host of reasons, of course, but the point was, vulnerability led to disaster.
“Why did you lie to me, Lea?” he asked instead. “I get the feeling you’ve been lying to me, not to mention avoiding me. Why?”
She tensed. He was going to make things even more difficult for her, wasn’t he?
When she didn’t answer, didn’t even look at him, he let out a sigh of frustration. “Fine.”
All of a sudden, they had turned around and were going the opposite direction of her apartment.
Trying to figure out what he was trying to pull, Lea finally turned to look at him. “My apartment is the other way,” she pointed out.
“I know.” His fingers were tight on the steering wheel.
He didn’t say anything else, and next thing she knew, they were in front of his house again. He got out, opening an umbrella as he did so. She flinched as the rain started to hit her skin again.
He rushed around to the other side to hold the umbrella over them both. Normally, she’d have smiled up at him and thanked him. This time, though, she marched right past him.
He hurried after her, and soon enough, she was dripping onto his fancy marble floors.
“What is with you?” Mr. Chalamet demanded.
She didn’t answer. She was gonna wait until she was dry enough to not damage her phone, and then she was gonna call an Uber.
“Alright then,” he decided, dropping his keys on the entryway table and grabbing her hand. “C’mon.”
“What—“ she started, thrown off by this turn of events.
“Do not argue with me, Lea,” he said sharply. “I’m not in the mood.”
Mr. Chalamet never got upset. She had never seen him snap or lose his temper, not once. It was… startling, to say the least. So she followed him, allowing him to pull her up the stairs and… into his bedroom?
They walked beneath an archway and then through a set of painted French doors, and then they were in his room. It was huge— vaulted ceilings, a TV above a carved fireplace, a sunroom in the corner that was separated from the rest of the bedroom by columns, a king sized bed with the covers unmade.
That’s where he sleeps, she thought in a daze. He sleeps there. He sleeps there.
They passed a cabinet and counter with a mini fridge and coffee machine before going through another set of French doors and past a large, elaborate vanity that was built into the wall. He let go of her hand once they were between two huge walk-in closets, and he strode into the one on the right. Within a few seconds, he had re-emerged carrying a long-sleeve shirt and pair of sweatpants.
Mr. Chalamet grabbed her hand again and pulled her through a third set of French doors. “Stay there,” he commanded sharply as he let go of her hand again to rifle through some sort of small closet that was built into the wall.
As he did, she took in the bathroom she now stood in. Marble floors, a huge walk-in shower with a seat—also made of marble, and with a large circular mirror inside—a large double vanity, columns around the ginormous tub that was more of a jacuzzi, all elaborately carved. There was even a fireplace with a mirror—and fuck, a small statue in front of the mirror—and a set of doors to a balcony with a table and chair set.
He marched past her and plopped the clothes as well towels he’d retrieved onto a long stool that sat in front of the tub. “Shower,” he ordered, “or take a bath. I don’t care. Just get out of those wet clothes and warm up. I’ll be outside until you’re done.”
“I… I need to brush my hair whenever I bathe,” she told him, her voice soft and hesitant. “It frizzes up really bad if I don’t.”
“I know.” He pointed at the shower seat. “I have curly hair, too, you realize. There’s a brush in the shower for that exact reason. You can use it.”
Lea nodded. He left then, closing the doors behind him. She hastened to lock them, looking around the room anxiously.
She showered, noting that the conditioner—which must’ve been obscenely expensive—was for curly hair. Did he have trouble taming his, too?
The towels were soft, and the clothes were warm. She squeezed out her bra and panties, not wanting him to see them, or see her without a bra.
When she exited the bathroom, Mr. Chalamet was sitting in a chair by the fireplace. She crossed her arms over her stomach, curling her toes in the sweatpants (they fell well past her feet and were essentially socks).
His lips quirked slightly when he saw her. “Feel better?” She stared at her feet in silence, and he sighed. “C’mon,” he told her, “we should sit in the living room.”
Lea didn’t see why, but she wasn’t about to argue with him. She didn’t understand his need to take care of her, really. Must’ve been a dad thing.
Further confirmation he sees you as a child, she told herself glumly. I told you he’d never see you as anything but that. It seems like he sees you as a daughter, even. Ugh.
She let him take her downstairs and into the living room, and she was soon sitting on the couch with him in a chair across from her. She stared up at the balcony behind him; the chandelier and vaulted ceilings, elaborately carved like the rest of the house.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” he finally said. It wasn’t a question. It was a statement of fact. “You’ve been lying to me, too. Tell me why.”
She stared at her hands in her lap, where her fingertips were peeking through the hemline of the sleeves off the shirt he’d given her. “With all due respect, Mr. Chalamet, what I do is none of your business.”
“I thought we were friends,” he told her quietly, a smile in his voice.
She exhaled sharply. “You’re my friend’s dad.”
“That doesn’t mean we can’t be friends also,” he insisted. “I see you as a friend. Don’t you see me as one, too?”
She crossed her arms over her stomach protectively. Maybe she wouldn’t spill her guts, pour her heart out to him, if she could hold herself together. “I dunno,” she sighed. “It’s… weird.”
He stood, and she watched his sock-clad feet come into view before the couch dipped beneath his weight. He was close, but not close enough to appear more than friendly. “Why is it weird?” he asked her, his voice gentle. Kind. He was always so goddamn nice.
Finally, the prickling of his gaze on her skin was too much. She looked up at him, into his eyes, and…
And she couldn’t take it, couldn’t keep it in. She burst into tears, the emotions bursting out of her like water from a collapsed dam.
Cupping her face with her hands so he wouldn’t see her cry, Lea sobbed as quietly as she could until she felt herself pulled towards him and warm arms around her.
“Shh,” he hushed softly, rubbing her back as she wept. “It’s alright. I’ve got you, Lea. It’s okay.”
She couldn’t stop herself from burying her face in his shoulder. It felt so good to be held by him, to have his arms around her. It was everything she’d ever dreamed of except better, a billion times better.
Lea cried for a few more minutes before coming back to herself. As soon as she did, she put her hands on his shoulders and pushed away from him. Or tried to, anyway. She couldn’t get very far with his arms still around her. “Sorry,” she muttered, still trying to pull away. “I didn’t mean to.”
“Hey,” Mr. Chalamet said gently, cupping her cheek and lifting her face up towards him so she couldn’t help but look at him, “it’s alright. Really. I want to be there for you, sweetheart.”
“You shouldn’t call me that,” she breathed, certain that he shouldn’t call her such things because of the way it made her stomach flutter.
He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “It’s what you are to me.”
“I shouldn’t be.” She assumed he saw her as a daughter, and, well, he should see her platonically, of course, but she couldn’t bear for him to look at her the way a father looked at his daughter. She’d rather he look at her as a friend, no matter how painful that was. Or, hell, even a stranger was better than his daughter. Better than a child.
“But you are,” he murmured. His gaze found her lips, and she stopped breathing. “You’re probably right. You probably shouldn’t be. But you are, and I don’t care anymore. Push me away, slap me if you have to, but I can’t stop myself. I want this with you too badly. I’m sorry.”
“What are you—“ She didn’t even get to finish her question before his lips were on hers.
Lea was frozen. Her lungs wouldn’t work, couldn’t work. And then her brain processed what was happening. He was kissing her. Mr. Chalamet was kissing her, his lips moving gently over hers, his hand migrating from her cheek into her wet hair.
She whimpered softly, closing her eyes and shifting closer to him. He groaned when he felt her respond, clenching his hand in her hair, his arm tightening around her waist. Their kiss deepened, becoming desperate and hungry, and he sucked her tongue into his mouth, moaning as he did so.
She knew it was wrong, knew he was no good for her, that she was no good for him, but she couldn’t stop herself, couldn’t help how desperately she needed him.
She slid her hands up from his shoulders into his hair and tried to move her lips over his the way he was doing with her, and he moaned again, trailing kisses over her jaw and down her throat. “You’re so beautiful,” Mr. Chalamet said against her skin. “God, why didn’t you push me away? You should hate me now. You should find me repulsive, think I’m a gross old man—“
“A what?” she laughed breathlessly. “Are you serious?”
“I’m way too old to want you this way.” He slid his hand down to the base of her spine, almost on her ass, but not quite. She wondered if he wanted to touch her there. She wished he would. She wished he’d touch her everywhere. “I shouldn’t look at you the way I do.”
“How do you look at me?” Lea asked breathily as he continued to kiss her neck. “I thought you saw me as a child.”
He chuckled a bit, the hand on her back bunching up in the fabric of the shirt she wore. “But you’re not one, are you?” he breathed. “You’re a fully grown woman.” His fingers slipped beneath the hemline of the shirt, brushing against the bare skin of her lower back. “God, are you ever.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, having a theory she couldn’t quite voice and hoping she was right.
“You’re of age,” Mr. Chalamet began, “and your body is…” he trailed off momentarily before clearing his throat. “Well. You’re an adult, and you look it.”
“You like the way I look?” she asked hesitantly.
“Fuck yes I do,” he growled. “I don’t wanna freak you out, but you are insanely sexy. Kiss me again, sweetheart. Please.”
“If that’s what you want,” she breathed, pressing her mouth to his again.
“I’ve spent a lot of time imagining this,” Mr. Chalamet confessed. “Thinking about your lips on mine.”
“You— you have?”
“God, yes.” He pulled her closer by the waist. “I can’t get you out of my head. Ever since I first saw you, I wanted to know what you’d taste like, what you’d feel like. What sounds you’d make if I touched you the way I really want to.”
“How do you want to touch me?” she wanted to know. “I… I’ve never… I mean, that was my first kiss, so…”
“It was?” he asked, sounding surprised. “I can’t believe I got to have that. But— I want to touch you however you'll let me. I want things with you—I want to do things to you—that might scare you, and that’s the last thing I want, is to scare you off.”
“You could never scare me off,” she assured him. “Please tell me how you see me. I want to know.”
“Like a fucking goddess,” he growled, kissing her neck again. “Aphrodite come to Earth. I’d worship you if you let me.”
Lea wrapped her arms around his neck, wanting to be closer to him, impossibly closer. “Mr. Chalamet, I—“
“Use my name, darling,” he interjected, running his hands up and down her sides, almost brushing her breasts. “I want to hear you say it. I want to hear you moan it.”
She hesitated, but he was kissing her neck, and it felt so good. He felt so good. “Timothée,” she exhaled softly.
“Fuck,” he groaned, sucking her skin gently, not quite hard enough to leave a mark. “Again, angel. Please. Say it again.”
“Oh, Timothée—“
“I wanna hold you,” he gasped. “I wanna touch you, feel your skin against mine—“
“Yes,” Lea whimpered. “Yes, Timothée, please touch me, I want that, I want that so bad—“
“Fuckin’ love hearing you say my name, baby,” he growled. “Never call me Mr. Chalamet again, you got that?”
“Whatever you want,” she promised, kissing him hungrily.
“This is why you’ve been lying to me, isn’t it?” Mr. Chalamet—no, Timothée, he wanted her to call him Timothée—asked. “Why you’ve been avoiding me, won’t look at me.”
She buried her face in his neck in response. “I’m sorry. I never meant to feel this way about you. It was an accident.”
“I didn’t mean to feel this way about you, either,” he confessed, “but that doesn’t mean I’m not happy I do, that you feel the same way about me.”
“I tried to hide it,” Lea admitted, “but I’ve never liked anybody before, so I don’t think I was very good at it.”
“No,” he chuckled with a slight shake of his head. “No, you weren’t. I suspected—or hoped, rather—that that was what was going on, but I wasn’t sure. I’m so glad I was right.” After a moment, he said, “Kiss me again, Lea. I need you to kiss me again.”
She was leaning in to do just that when there were footsteps on the stairs. Jumping away from him like a kid caught with their hand in a cookie jar, she panted heavily.
“What’re you guys doing?” Elle asked when she saw them.
There was silence for a few tense beats. “I was just about to take Lea home,” Tim—she got to think of him as that now!—finally said. “She’s not feeling well.”
“Oh, shit,” Elle muttered. “You okay? Why’re you wearing Dad’s clothes?”
“She got sick while still wearing her clothes,” he explained. “Do you need something?”
“Just a snack,” Elle said, strolling towards the kitchen. “See you later, Lea. Hope you feel better.”
“T— thanks,” Lea stuttered back, feeling very much like she’d just committed treasonous levels of betrayal.
“C’mon,” Tim told her gently, pulling her up and leading her towards the door.
She was in a daze on the drive to her apartment, trying to process what had happened.
He’d kissed her. He’d told her he liked her, wanted her, couldn’t stop thinking about her.
What the fuck?
He stopped in front of her building, pulling off to the curb. “The rain has stopped enough for you to walk in without an umbrella,” he observed.
“Yeah,” she agreed softly, staring at her hands in her lap. “Thanks for driving me home, Mr. Chalamet.”
“Why are you calling me that again?” he wanted to know. “I thought we agreed you wouldn’t anymore, now that we’re…” he trailed off.
Lea clutched the fabric of the sweatpants he’d given her. “We can’t do that again,” she informed him shakily. “I’m sorry. We can’t. I’ll see you later.”
He objected, saying her name, but she was already getting out of the car.
She curled up in a ball when she got to bed, crying until her eyes were raw.
Aaaaaaaa I’m sorry I’m sorry I promise it has a happy ending
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Moodboard by @softhecreator
Mr. Chalamet
chapter three: famous last words
AO3 info one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven epilogue
All my work is 18+.
I’m sorry, but I fell in love tonight. I didn’t mean to fall in love tonight. You’re looking like you fell in love tonight. Can we pretend that we’re in love?- Halsey, Is There Somewhere
She hadn’t seen him hardly at all in the week or so since what she now thought of as The Incident. Sure, he’d come to pick up Elle from her apartment a few times, so she’d caught glances of him then, and he’d always wave (in one instance, she’d had to come up with an excuse as to why she absolutely could not come out to say hi, no matter how quick Elle told her that he had promised to be), but she hadn’t actually spoken to him. Which was, of course, all according to plan. She wouldn’t go over to his house for the foreseeable future.
Elle had questioned it once or twice, but she was good about not pushing if Lea didn’t feel up to sharing. The guilt was… difficult. She’d never had a secret of such magnitude before. She should probably come clean about it to Elle, but how did you even tell someone like that? The more she thought about it, the guiltier she felt.
Lea’s last final was on May 14th, and when she exited the building and made her way towards the sidewalk to head down to the subway, the sight of an all too familiar car stopped her in her tracks.
As soon as its driver saw her, he got out of the car and strolled over to her.
Mr. Chalamet was wearing a hoodie and sunglasses, the way he usually did when he didn’t want to be noticed, but a few people whose brains hadn’t been completely fried from finals just yet still turned to look at him.
Lea took several steps back, her fight or flight response rising and fast. It was definitely gonna be flight, too.
He must’ve seen the look in her eyes, because he lifted his hands placatingly and said, “Don’t freak out. I just wanna talk.”
People knew her there. It wasn’t a very big school. Everybody in the drama department knew who she was, and if there was one thing Lea hated, it was making a public scene, especially in front of people she knew.
Glaring fiercely at him, she marched over to his car, opened the door, and got in. He followed after her.
“You’re making this very difficult for me,” she snapped.
He glanced over at her as he pulled out onto the street, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “It doesn’t have to be difficult.”
“Being around you at all is difficult,” she informed him, “and there’s really no way to avoid that except to avoid you.”
“Yes, well,” he sighed, “I’m afraid that doesn’t work for me. We’re going to discuss this like adults.”
“That doesn’t work for me,” Lea grumbled.
“Tough shit.” Despite his words, his voice was cheerful.
“What are you so damn happy about?” she griped.
“I think it’s normal to be happy about getting to spend time with the girl you like.”
Lea bristled, flushing and shifting uncomfortably in her seat. “…You shouldn’t say things like that, Mr. Chalamet,” she grumbled.
“Would you prefer I lie to you instead?” he asked as they turned into a driveway on the outskirts of the city.
“Where are you taking me?” she said instead of answering him.
“You like old stuff, right?” he questioned, knowing her penchant for history. “You must, since you like me.”
She whipped her head around, glaring at him again.
“Sorry, sorry,” he said with a laugh. “I’m legally obligated to make dad jokes. It’s in my contract.”
Lea rolled her eyes and was about to say something snarky when she caught sight of the house, and then she understood what he meant about her liking it. It was a beautiful Victorian mansion of red brick with a wraparound porch.
She was shocked, astonished by the gorgeousness of the house even as they walked up to the porch. He unlocked the set of double doors that must’ve been twice her height, and they stepped inside.
Her jaw dropped.
The walls and ceilings were handpainted—elaborately, at that—and the floors were hardwood. The furnishings were of the time period, it looked like, which she thought was a nice touch.
“Do you like it?” he asked gently from behind her as she stepped hesitantly further into the house.
Lea had forgotten that she was upset with him forcing a discussion she didn’t want to have on her, marveling at the work of art she was standing in.
“It’s even more gorgeous than the other one,” she breathed in amazement. “Why did you bring me here?”
“I’ll tell you in a minute. C’mon, let’s go to the living room.”
She followed him through an archway to the right into a baroque style room with two fireplaces—yes, two—and a large fresco on the ceiling that had a chandelier hanging from the center of it.
“Is this house yours?” she wanted to know, looking up at the fresco, noting baby angels painted amongst the white clouds against a soft blue sky.
“Yeah,” Mr. Chalamet said, pulling her by the hand to sit next to him on a loveseat. “Elle doesn’t know about it. I’m glad you like it, though.”
“It’s… really nice,” she told him, scooting as far away from him as she could manage, “but again: why did you bring me here?”
He frowned at her choosing to put distance between them, but didn’t comment on it. “I’ll explain that in a minute. I’d like to tell you about my feelings for you first.”
She tensed. “I’d rather not hear about your feelings for me.”
“Why not?” he asked with a confident grin. “Are you concerned they’ll make you want me even more than you already do?”
Lea glowered at him, scrunching her nose up with displeasure, but remained silent.
He laughed then, and although her frown deepened, he still informed her, “Whatever the reason, I’m sorry you don’t want to hear them. It’s necessary, however, so just listen to me, please.”
“Fine.” She crossed her arms over herself and looked at him expectantly.
“I meant it when I told you I couldn’t get you out of my head,” he began. “I remember meeting you, and you had the cutest braid in your hair. You blushed when you saw me for the first time, and you didn’t stop until you left that night. I remember thinking you were adorable, that you looked so soft. I had to keep telling myself it wasn’t appropriate, that you wouldn’t be interested in me for a number of reasons. That I shouldn’t be interested in you, either.” He took a deep breath. “I was, though. And then as I got to know you, it just got worse and worse.”
“Mr. Chalamet—“ she tried to interject.
“Let me finish,” he pleaded gently. “I need you to understand.” She nodded reluctantly, and he continued. “I had a girlfriend when we first met, y’know. I broke up with her after a few weeks of knowing you. I can sleep with other women, sure, but it turns out I can’t date them. There’s no point.”
“You had a wife when we first met,” she corrected firmly. “As for the other stuff, that sucks, and I’m sorry, but it doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter,” he corrected. “And I thought it might end up with me telling you this,” he sighed. “Lola and I… well. We haven’t been involved with one another romantically—or even sexually—for a long time now. We weren’t very serious about each other before we got married—we weren’t exclusive; both of us were seeing other people when we found out she was pregnant—and we did try after the wedding, for Elle’s sake more than our own, but neither of us were happy. I’m not going to lie and say there were never any feelings there, but I was never in love with her, and she was certainly never in love with me.”
“So what, you just cheat on her?”
“No,” he said patiently, “I don’t cheat on her. She did, however, cheat on me. Elle was two, and I… well. I caught Lola with someone else. After that, she suggested we see other people, but stay married for Elle’s sake. Lola lived with us more often than not until Elle hit her teens. Since then, she’s usually been in LA. If Elle sees her at all, it’s generally because she goes over there for her breaks.”
“So…” Lea furrowed her brows. “You have her permission to sleep around? Have you ever even been in love?”
“I have been in love,” he nodded. “Not with her, like I said, but I have felt it before. I have her permission to be with anyone I want,” Mr. Chalamet corrected, “and I want to be with you.”
She looked down at her lap, wringing her hands. “I don’t want to be somebody’s side chick.”
“You wouldn’t be my side chick, sweetheart,” he assured her with a gentle smile. “You’d be my girlfriend.”
“It’s not a good idea,” she mumbled. “It’s already beyond fucked up that I feel this way about you, that we…” She didn’t finish her sentence, taking a deep breath instead. “You’re too old for me, Mr. Chalamet. You’re married. You have a kid who’s my friend—yeah, she’s two and a half years younger than I am, but I’m still closer to her in age than I am to you, and by over a decade, no less, sixteen years is a hell of an age difference—and I feel guilty enough as it is about last week. I’ll get over you eventually, I’m sure, I just need time.”
“I don’t want you to get over me, and I don’t want to get over you, either,” he told her flatly. “I want to kiss you again.”
“That is also a bad idea.”
“I like you, Lea,” he said quietly. “I like you a lot.”
“You shouldn’t,” she whispered. “Not that way, at least.”
“But I do,” he insisted, reaching out to take her hand. “I do like you that way.”
“You’re married,” Lea reminded him, snatching her hand away. “To the mother of one of my friends, no less.”
“Yes,” he agreed, “and I want to be with you anyway. I can tell that you want to be with me, too. And I promise you, she wouldn’t care.”
“You don’t get it,” she snapped. “Next to your marriage, anything with me would just be— it’d be a hookup, meaningless sex and nothing more, and I don’t want that. Not with anyone.” Then, she admitted, “Especially not with you.”
“How could you think—“ he sputtered before taking a deep breath and saying, “I don’t want that, either. I’m not going to tell you I don’t want you that way—of course I want you that way—, but it would be so much more than that. It could never be just sex between us. Not for me.” Another pause. “It would be about more than just pleasure; it would be about intimacy and affection and a physical expression of what we mean to each other.”
She wanted what he was offering more desperately than she’d ever wanted anything in her life. She yearned for him, ached for him, but she couldn’t have him. Tears slid down her cheeks, and she shook her head, looking away from him.
“Lea,” Mr. Chalamet began gently, “I meant it when I said I’d worship you. All you have to do is let me. I’ll take such good care of you, sweetheart.”
“I don’t understand,” she confessed tearfully. “Take care of me? I can take care of myself, I—“
“Of course you can,” he agreed with a nod, “but I’d give you anything you wanted, plus anything I wanted to give you.”
“What are you talking about?”
He took her hand in his, and this time, she couldn’t bring herself to pull away. “Anything you want,” he repeated. “Clothes, jewelry, cars, trips wherever you like. I could get you any job you wanted the second you graduate. If you don’t want to work, you don’t have to.”
“I’d be your mistress, then,” she observed, her voice flat. “A kept woman, so to speak.”
“I don’t care what you call it,” Mr. Chalamet informed her. “As long as you’re mine, the label is irrelevant.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Why did you bring me here?” she wanted to know. “You said you’d tell me why.”
He was silent for a moment before saying, “So you can see what I want to give you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Lea,” he began, “if you agree to this, I’ll give you anything you want. Including this house or any other.”
“You’d give me a house?” she asked shrilly, astonished at this declaration.
“It’s safer than your apartment,” he pointed out, “and we could be together in peace here. I wouldn’t have to hide how I feel about you.”
Her mind was reeling, trying to process this bizarre piece of information. “I… I can’t afford a mortgage,” she finally managed to squeak.
He smiled at her indulgently. “I paid cash for it, angel. I’m paying off a place in France and that’s it. Everything else was low enough for me to pay cash. And anyway, I wouldn’t expect you to pay for anything ever again. I’d rather you didn’t, in fact.”
Just how rich was this guy?
Lea stared at him miserably. “For what it’s worth, I wish I could.”
“You’re saying no, then?”
She nodded tearfully. “It’s not that I don’t want to be with you.”
He nodded his understanding. “I know you do.”
“I just…” She sighed. “I can’t. We can’t.”
“We can,” Mr. Chalamet corrected. “We absolutely can. I understand your feelings, and I’ll do my best to back off if that’s what you need, but don’t say we can’t when we can.”
She was silent, unable to formulate the words to respond.
After several seconds, he added, “All I ask is that you stop avoiding me. We can be just friends, I’ll accept that. But please don’t shut me out. Especially not because of how you feel about me.”
Lea got the sense that he wouldn’t budge on that, so she nodded. “Yeah, alright. Just friends.”
He examined her face closely. “May I kiss you again?”
She jolted in surprise at this request. “What?”
He smiled sadly at her. “A farewell to what could have been. Please?”
She nodded again, shocked at her own response, but then he was cupping her cheek and leaning in, pressing his lips to hers. It was soft and sweet, the same way their first kiss had been before things had escalated, and Lea shifted closer to him so as to kiss him back.
It was intense, but relatively chaste as far as such things went. Still, there was passion bubbling under the surface, and she could almost taste it.
When he finally pulled away, he leaned his forehead against hers, exhaling slowly. “If you change your mind, say the word and I’m yours.”
“I wish you could be,” Lea confessed quietly. “I really, really do.”
“I can be,” he promised. “I want to be. I hope you do change your mind so I can show you what you mean to me. What we could have.”
“This little piece of heaven was enough,” she whispered. “I’m content.”
He nuzzled her nose with his. “It’s not enough for me. Nothing with you could ever be enough. Not if I don’t possess your heart. Your soul.”
Lea took a deep, shuddering breath. “Us being together would have no impact on that.”
He smiled, and she knew he understood.
“If you change your mind,” he repeated, “tell me. For now, though, friends?”
She nodded. “Just friends.”
He grinned that overconfident grin of his. “Famous last words.” When he spoke, his lips brushed against hers, and her skin was tingling. Or maybe it was her blood thrumming through her veins, she wasn’t sure. “Can we pretend?” he breathed. “Just for tonight. I’ll— I’ll take you home, and we can act like nothing happened, but…”
“Pretend?” Lea asked, confused.
He nodded. “Pretend we’re together. I just…” A sigh, his shoulders slumping a bit. “If I can’t have you, will you at least let me pretend for awhile?”
Her eyes widened as his meaning clicked into place in her mind. “What, um.” She gulped. “What would that entail?”
“Nothing we haven’t already done,” he assured her gently. “Let me just… just treat you like you’re mine. Hold you like you’re mine. I want to hear you you say my name the way you did before.”
Her heart ached, but… oh, he was so close, and he smelled so good, like cologne and cigarettes and man and she was becoming increasingly aware of the fact that she would die if she didn’t kiss him again.
“Okay,” Lea murmured.
He smiled, though there was sadness in his gaze when he looked at her. “I’m going to kiss you now,” he warned, “and when I do, if you say my name, do not call me Mr. Chalamet.”
Nodding wordlessly, she tilted her head up just enough to press her lips to his, and he was frozen momentarily in surprise at her taking initiative, but then he smiled into the kiss and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer and kissing her back.
Just this once, she promised herself. Let me have this just once and then I’ll never touch him again, I swear.
Threading her fingers into his hair and pressing her body against his, she did her best to move her mouth over his the way he was doing with her, and then he was sucking her bottom lip.
He trailed kisses down the column of her throat, and she leaned her head back, whimpering softly. “Timothée,” she exhaled.
“God, Lea, I—“ he cut himself off briefly, his hands bunching up her shirt at the small of her back. “I want to take you upstairs.”
“What’s upstairs?” she wondered breathlessly.
“Our bedroom,” he—Timothée; just for now, he could be Timothée again—said into her neck. “I want to lay you down on the bed, on our bed, and kiss you until I can’t breathe. I want to make love to you until the sun comes up.”
Her fingers tightened in his hair. “You want to what?”
“I want every part of you,” he insisted, trailing kisses down to her collarbones. “I want to feel your skin against mine. I want you to belong to me. I want us to belong to each other.”
“Timothée, I—“ She was cut off by his lips on hers again, kissing her desperately. “I do belong to you,” she panted into his mouth, and he responded by groaning into hers. “I will always belong to you.”
“Can I touch you?” he demanded abruptly.
“Where?” Lea breathed, butterflies filling her stomach.
He looked at her breasts pointedly.
“If— if you want,” she stuttered, feeling terribly anxious. “And, um.” She gulped. “You can touch my, uh… my butt, too. If you want.”
“Do I ever,” he grunted, reaching down with one hand to grab a fistful of her ass, squeezing the flesh roughly through her purple plaid skirt, his other hand grasping her breast and kneading it.
Lea drew a sharp intake of breath, gasping, “Timothée—“
He resumed mouthing at her neck at that, his kisses wet and hungry. “Been thinking about touching you like this for so fuckin’ long, baby. The way this ass moves when you walk, these tiny fucking skirts that damn near show me your asscheeks when they swish up behind you.” He took the skin of her neck between his teeth and nibbled gently. “And this,“—he emphasized the word with a squeeze of her breast—“that doesn’t even fit in my fucking hand it’s so big, fuck—“
Lea kissed him then, yearning for more of his touch. She turned further towards him, her hand accidentally brushing against his crotch as she did so. “S— sorry,” she gasped in surprise, beginning to pull her hand away. She wanted to touch him there, if she were honest with herself, but she didn’t want to overstep or anything.
Tim grabbed her wrist then, guiding her hand back so it was hovering just over where it had been. She wasn’t quite touching him, but almost. He held her hand there.
“It’s alright if you don’t want to,” he murmured against her lips, “but I want you to feel what you do to me. The effect you have on me. If you want to touch me there, I would love that.”
With that, he released her wrist, and she slowly, ever so slowly, lowered her hand to brush her fingertips over the fabric of his sweatpants, and—
And he was hard. Very much so. He inhaled sharply at her touch before kissing her hungrily. “Feel me, sweetheart,” he groaned, twitching beneath her fingers and resuming kneading her breast. “Feel what you do to me.”
“I did that?” she asked disbelievingly.
“Damn right you did,” Tim growled in her ear, mouthing at her neck. “That unseasonably warm day last month where you went swimming, and I saw you in that polka dot bikini with water dripping between these,” he continued, squeezing her breast for emphasis. “Do you have any idea how badly I wanted you then? God, I wanted to…” he trailed off, clenching his jaw and kissing her neck again.
“Wanted to what?” she breathed, continuing to hesitantly touch him through the fabric of his sweatpants.
“Wanted to bend you over the side of the hot tub and show you what wearing things like that does to your boyfriend who already can’t get enough of you.”
“Boyfriend,” Lea exhaled in a blissful daze, full on cupping his erection now. “My boyfriend. My Timothée.”
“That’s right, angel,” he encouraged, continuing to kiss her neck. “I’m yours, and you’re mine. All mine.”
They made out for awhile longer before he insisted they stop before he lost control of himself entirely, deciding to take her home.
The entire drive, he held her hand on the center console, leaning over to kiss her at every red light.
Their time together was ending, she knew, and she knew she’d never have this with him again. The thought made her tighten her fingers around his hand, and he glanced over at her, a sad smile gracing his too-perfect lips.
Finally, they were in the parking garage of her apartment building, but she couldn’t bring herself to let go of his hand.
She was nearly crying when Tim looked over at her, his expression immediately becoming one of concern. “Oh, my angel,” he murmured, reaching over to unbuckle her seatbelt the way he’d done with his own, pulling her up and over into his lap. She nestled herself against his chest, breathing him in one last time as he wrapped his arms around her.
“I don’t want this to end,” Lea confessed tearfully.
“I know you don’t, sweetheart,” he said with a kiss to her hair. “I don’t, either.”
“I hate that it has to.”
“It doesn’t have to,” Tim reminded her, his voice gentle. Soft. “You can have this all the time if that’s what you want.”
“Of course I want that,” she insisted, “but…”
“But you can’t,” he finished for her. “So you’ve said.” She nodded into his shirt, and he sighed. “Kiss me again, then.” Lea looked up at him in surprise, so he explained, “You’re my girlfriend until you leave the car. I want to kiss my girlfriend.”
Smiling shakily and wiping the tears from her eyes, she tilted her head up and pressed her lips to his.
Before she knew it, she was straddling his lap as they kissed desperately. He palmed her breasts, squeezed her ass, kissed her neck. Her hands were in his hair and his tongue was in her mouth when she shifted slightly in his lap, her core brushing against his, right over her clit, and she pressed against him harder on instinct alone.
“Fuck,” Tim grunted out. “D’you want me to show you how to—“ he cut himself off, choosing to reach down and grasp her ass through her skirt. “If you wanna do that again, roll your hips forward,” he encouraged.
She did so, moaning at the sensation. “God, Timothée,” she whimpered, repeating the motion with her hips, stimulating her clit further.
“Feel good?” he asked darkly.
“Mhm,” she exhaled with an emphatic nod, watching his eyes. “Feels so good, fuck—“
“God, you’re wet,” he grunted, listening to the soft squelching sounds that were filling the front seat. “Wanna feel you, touch you, kiss all over this delicious little body, worship you the way you deserve.”
She shook her head. “I worship you,” she corrected. “You look like some kind of— some kind of god or something, fuck—“
He laughed softly. “Definitely not that. Just a guy wanting to hold the woman he wants to be with.”
“I wanna be with you, too,” she insisted, rocking her hips faster. Was… was she going to cum from this? It sure felt like she was going to.
Her breath was coming in short little pants, and he must’ve noticed, because he squeezed her ass firmly. “You’re about to, aren’t you?” he murmured in awe. “Just from this?”
“It feels so good,” Lea whined. He was right where she needed him, his clothed length rubbing against her soaked panties, stimulating her throbbing clit.
“There you go,” he encouraged gently. “God, you’re so beautiful like this. Feel me, Lea.”
“I do,” she insisted. “You’re so hard, it feels so good—“
He cupped her cheek, pulling her down to kiss him. “Every inch is for you, babydoll. I’m aching for you, needing to be inside you, to fill you up.”
She gasped, tilting her head back as he showered her breasts with kisses, pulling the hemline of her shirt down just a bit so as to access more of her skin. “I— I’m going to—“
“There you go,” he encouraged. “Cum for me, sweetheart. C’mon.”
“Timothée,” she moaned, her fingers clutching his hair as she came.
He pulled her in close then, wrapping his arms around her, humming with delight when she buried her face in his neck, panting softly.
He stroked her back, kissing her hair every once in awhile.
“Do… do you want to…?”
“Don’t worry about me, angel,” Tim assured her gently. “I just wanna hold you like this for as long as you’ll let me.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck then, inhaling his scent deeply. He had made her feel better than she’d ever felt in life, and he hasn’t even needed to touch her properly to do it.
She sniffled a few times, and after the third instance, he finally decided to speak up. “Lea,” he began.
“Mmm?”
“I don’t think I can be very respectful of your wishes to not pursue anything with you,” Tim confessed. “I’m sorry. I want you too much. You feel too good, too perfect in my arms. I won’t pressure you, but, well. I can be patient.”
She was silent for a moment, considering. “If I tell you something,” she began, “do you promise not to laugh at me?”
“Of course, baby.” He kissed her scalp again.
“I never intended to have any sort of romantic relationship. Not ever.”
“Like ever ever?” Tim clarified.
Lea nodded against his neck.
“Why not?”
“You remember what I said about my dad?”
“He was a dick, yes,” Tim recalled.
“Falling in love makes you vulnerable. That’s what happened to my mom.” She took a deep breath. “I never intended to have these feelings for anyone, and I especially never intended to act on them.”
“Everyone’s afraid of being hurt, Lea,” he told her gently, kindly, rubbing her back all the while. “That doesn’t mean you should deny yourself something that could make you happy.”
She shrugged. “Seems like a wasted risk to me.”
“This, what we could have, it could never be wasted,” he insisted fervently. “If— if that’s why you’re saying no, I can show you we’re worth the risk, that I won’t hurt you, I—“
“That’s not why,” she told him softly, her lips brushing against his neck as she spoke. “If that was why, I wouldn’t be sitting in your lap right now.”
Tim’s arms tightened around her. “What you said before?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay,” he sighed. “Just let me hold you, then?”
Lea clenched her hands in his shirt. “I never want you to stop holding me.”
“I know.” He kissed her hair again.
He did stop, though. Eventually, he had to. And when he did, just before she got out of the car with tears in her eyes, he grabbed her hand, pulling her back to him.
“I need to kiss you again,” he said urgently.
Lea smiled shakily up at him, almost wishing he didn’t feel as strongly about her as he seemed to, because that made it so much harder. Still, though, she leaned forward and kissed him.
She reminded herself that this kiss was their last, that they would never—could never—have another. It was slow and intense, his fingers in her hair and her hands on his shoulders as their lips moved over one another. They kissed for several minutes, and she wondered if he couldn’t bring himself to pull away, either.
When he spoke, it was against her mouth, his breath meeting hers with every syllable. “I’m not giving up on you. I’m having this. I’m not giving up.”
“You should,” she exhaled. “For everyone’s sake, you should.”
“No,” Tim murmured, “what I should do is not suppress how I feel. I’m not one to disregard what I want, and I want you.”
“You’ll always have me, in a way,” she admitted.
“I want you more than just metaphorically,” he insisted. “I… I want a future with you.”
“I’m not going anywhere. I expect we’ll be friends for awhile yet.”
“Friends,” he began slowly, “do not do this.” With that, he kissed her again, this time so hungrily, so desperately, that she whimpered into his mouth. “Friends don’t make each other feel the way you make me feel.”
“You’ll get over it,” Lea insisted, even as she arched into his kiss.
“If I don’t, what then? If I still ache for you this way years from now, will you agree then?”
“I shouldn’t.”
“I’ll convince you eventually,” he decided. “I can be very persuasive.”
Lea wished his confidence weren’t so attractive. It was, though. It very much was.
“However,” he added, “if you aren’t ready for us yet, that’s okay. I can wait.”
“Timothée…” she sighed. “You shouldn’t… you shouldn’t.”
“I love it when you call me that,” he breathed, kissing her again. “I love hearing you say my name.”
“I’m not going to do it again,” she reminded him.
“I know. That’s why I’m cherishing it.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb, his eyes flitting between hers. “Will you say it again for me, angel?”
Lea took a slow, shaky breath, then pressed her lips to his again. “Timothée,” she exhaled against his mouth.
They kissed for awhile longer. She was crying again by the time she finally pulled away from him. He stroked her cheek, smiling sadly at her.
“I’ll see you soon,” he promised as she opened the car door.
Lea took a shuddering breath. “Goodbye, Timothée.”
With that, she got out of the car, walked away, and tried very hard not to look back.
She did, though.
He watched her as she stood in the doorway, looking over her shoulder at his car, and then…
Then she turned back around and went upstairs, and that was that.
I forgot to post this yesterday my baaaaaaad
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