#Timothée x oc | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

valsarchives · 10 months

Text

we belong together - t.c.

Timothée Chalamet x OC

a/n: so this is my first time posting x OC AU and I’m kinda nervous but yeah, enjoy!

miramelbourne

liked by tchalamet, zayn, henrycavill and 17,284,174 others

miramelbourne what a night

view comments

tchalamet what a night indeed.

miramelbourne 🤠🫦

miramybaby what do you mean miss?????

timirastan ok mr. and mrs. we-talk-so-secretly.

miralotheefan we need to know what happened that night 😩

user_28438 are they dating?

timmyxmimi well, there is nothing confirmed but we hope they are because they’re so good together 🫠

randomuser she’s dating with Ben Barnes

timotheefan15 bro what 💀 they’re besties

mirasbabygirl You SLAYED as always 💅🏻

kissmemira My lady looks so sexy as always 🫦

msmelbourne 🛐🛐🛐

tchalafann she’s so fine 😮‍💨

zendaya i missed you like crazyyyy

miramelbourne me too baby me too 🥲

timmytimmy hey sexy 🥵

pauline.chalamet what a woman

miramelbourne making me blush I see miss chalamet

pauline.chalamet 😏💋

tchalamet 🤠

miramelbourne no need to be jealous t

tchalamet oh I’m gonna show you who’s jealous

timmyfann AAAAAAAAAAAAA

timmyxmimi SHOW US TOO TIM

more comments

tchalamet

liked by miramelbourne,stephanebak, zendaya and 13,395,285 others

tchalamet TC x MM for chaneloffical

view comments

miramelbourne 😋

tchalamet 🫠

chanelofficial 🖤

tchalafann parents!!!

timmytimmy oh, look at my husband with his girl

benbarnes the second picture tho mhmmm

tchalamet challenge accepted mhmmm

benbarnes fight me boy mhmmm

chalafann LMAO MHMMM

miralotheefan we see ur jealousy boy mhmmm

miramybaby ATE AND LEFT NO CRUMBS

kissmemira ok but can you guys admit that ur dating already so i can live in peace 🙄

stephanebak i love this

timmyfan04 our guy pretty like a girl 😭

mirasbabygirl the iconic chanel couple 🙌🏻

more comments

miramelbourne

liked by tchalamet, chanelofficial, benbarnes and 19,285,976 others

miramelbourne MM x CC chanelofficial

view comments

tchalamet Ladies and Gentlemen… Miranda Janelle Melbourne.

miramelbourne 🥰

chalametfann we love the man who always supports his girl 🥹

zendaya marry me😡

miramelbourne when? 💋

tchalamet such a fangirl

zendaya yeah, what about it?

chanelofficial love this look 🖤

miramybaby MIRANDA MELBOURNE WORLD DOMINATION

timchalfan Hopefully we'll see her again at the Venice Film Festival! She’d slay as always.

msmelbourne we will girl it’s confirmed!!! 🥹

mimirayray ICON!!!

more comments

mirandaupdates

8,395,174 likes

mirandaupdates my babies 🥹🥹🥹

via tchalametnews on Twitter.

view comments

msmelbourne she’s also wearing his cap and sunglasses 😭

randomuser i wonder how she’s allowed to wear the stuff she wears, i mean not in this one obviously but she always wears revealing clothes and Timothée is a jealous man.

chalafann bruh he always supports her and he has no right to speak about what she wears, which is the fact that he’s aware, hell he probably wears even more revealing clothes than her lol. And Timothée is jealous yes, but not toxic.

timotheefan15 GUYS, GO LOOK FOR TIMOTHÈE’S LAST POST OMFG

more comments

tchalamet

liked by miramelbourne, tomholland2013, florencepugh and 19,285,592 others

tchalamet It’s been a crazy journey, but you can't imagine how grateful I am to have you by my side. You’ve made me a better man since the day I met you. I’m so happy that you’re mine. I can never get enough of you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.

I promise you that I’ll make you the happiest woman in the world like you made me the happiest man on earth. And I want to raise a toast to that.

To us.

Happy 2nd anniversary my love, you’re my whole world.

p.s. i know i said i won’t post the first pic but i can’t help it you’re so cute :3

view comments

miramelbourne WHATKDDJSKDJELFJFKK 😭😭😭😭😭

miramelbourne I THINK YOU JUST BROKE ME

tchalamet then come here and cuddle me

miramelbourne THAT’S SO CHEESY LIKE WHATTT

tchalamet hey!!

miramelbourne GOD I LOVE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH

tchalamet I love you more

miramelbourne YOU’RE FORGIVEN BTW

tchalamet 🥳

zendaya FINALLY

miralotheefan GIRL YOU KNEW?

florencepugh happy anniversary my babies 🥺

miramelbourne thank you love 💗

tomholland2013 we should celebrate!!

zendaya yesyesyes

tchalamet yep

benbarnes guess you won the challenge huh?

tchalamet as always 😏

henrycavill 🖤

*liked by tchalamet

chanelofficial Happy anniversary 🖤

*liked by tchalamet

timmyxmimi WHAT WHAT WHATTTTT

msmelbourne SO YOU’VE BEEN DATING THIS WHOLE TIME????? FOR TWO YEARS??????

timmytimmy BOYFRIEND TIMOTHEE CONTENT BOYFRIEND TIMOTHEE CONTENT 😩

mirandafann TWO YEARS EXCUSE ME??!!

chalafann I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU TWO DATED FOR TWO YEARS AND WE DIDN’T KNOW ABOUT THAT

miramybaby I MEAN HOW CAN YOU HIDE IT SO GOOD

timotheefan15 AAAAAAAH 💖💖💖

mirasbabygirl Mira you got him whipped for you girllll 🥹

kissmemira now we’ll see boyfriend Timmy?? 🥹💗

more comments

miramelbourne’s story

290 notes · View notes

lixzey · 6 months

Text

Can't Help Falling In Love

That's what you get for waking up in Vegas.

“What do you think happened? It was a crazy night.” Kate asked curiously.

“Kate, can you come by my place?” Angelisse asked with a shaky voice.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll be there in half an hour.”

Angelisse thanked her and hung up the phone. Maybe Kate could help her piece together what happened that night. Angelisse's head was spinning, how could she be so recklessly stupid that night? How could she let the alcohol take over her? It certainly wasn't in her books—getting married on a drunken Vegas escapade. Angelisse wanted to scream, she wanted to break every thing that was in her reach. This marriage—to an unknown man—would ruin her if it ever got out. She was engaged just days ago for crying out loud!

Angelisse paced around her apartment, the document still in hand. What was she supposed to do? The brunette slumped on the couch throwing the document to the side, and burying her face in her hands.

“This can't be real, please be just a nightmare.” It must be a nightmare, it can't be real. Angelisse's whole life she had been perfect in her mother's eyes, in her boyfriend's—now fiancé's eyes. And now here she was, in a complicated situation that may or may not ruin her perfect life.

Minutes later, there was a knock on her door. Her best friend was at her doorstep, a worried look on her pale face.

As soon as Angelisse opened the door, she flung her arms around her best friend's neck, “Kate, thank God you're here.” Kate stepped inside and looked at her worriedly, concerned for what she might tell her.

“What’s up?” Kate asked, looking at her best friend with curiosity.

Angelisse sighed before slumping on the couch again. She held the marriage certificate out for Kate to see. Kate took a look at the document, and her eyes widened with shock. “What the actual fuck!? You're married to Timothée fucking Chalamet!? How the hell did that happen!?”

“You found me on the pavement the next day, Kate! What the hell do you think!?” Angelisse let out an exasperated sigh as she sunk further into the soft white couch.

"Holy..." Kate didn't know what to say. She was shocked to say the least—what in the world was going on? Her best friend was married to Timothée Chalamet, the hottest actor to ever walk the earth! How the fuck did her best friend end up married to the Dune actor!?

“Angelisse Emmanuelle Evans, you little shit.’’ Kate muttered, her eyes still glued to the document. Angelisse, on the other hand, had her face buried in a pillow.

“I'm fucked. I'm dead.” the brunette mumbled into her pillow.

“You didn't know you were married until now!? God, this was a year ago!”

“You were the one who pushed me to let loose!” Angelisse argued, lifting her head up. “This is your fault as much as it is mine.”

Kate scoffed, “My fault? I told you to enjoy the night, not go off and get married!“ She rolled her eyes at her friend, before taking a seat beside her. “Tell me what you remember from that night. Don't leave out anything.”

Angelisse groaned, she didn't actually remember much, but maybe they could piece together what had actually happened. “I remember dancing and drinking my ass off. Then, I went to the bathroom. After that, everything's a blur.”

“Oh, baby, I think I'm in love with you,”

Kate thought for a moment, trying to remember anything from the night of her bachelorette party. “That’s… that’s it? Oh shit,” she muttered under her breath. "I remember you disappearing off to the bathroom. And we lost track of you for a while. You came back an hour later and told us that you were with a 'really hot guy'. No doubt that was Timothée Chalame, hence his name on this paper.” Kate explained, waving the marriage certificate in her hand.

“Marry me?”

“Well, I know this little chapel on the boulevard we can go to. No one will know.”

“I don't even know who that guy is! And now I'm fucking married to him!” Angelisse snapped. The only memories that she had kept rewinding in her head.

Kate couldn’t wrap her mind around the situation Angelisse had found herself in. A marriage to a guy that she couldn’t remember from a night of debauchery.

“Timothée Chalamet is a famous actor, you dumb fuck!” Kate said incredulously.

“He's what!?” Angelisse widened, “He's famous!?” she quickly whipped her phone out and searched for her husband on google.

There he was, the French-American award winning actor.

“One night we lose track of you, and you end up getting married.” Kate mused.

“I'm fucked. Absolutely fucked! James had just proposed and-”

“James proposed?” Kate repeated, her eyes widening in shock. Kate was dumbfounded. James, Angelisse's long term boyfriend, had proposed to her. They had been together for six years, with Kate's husband being the one who introduced the two, years ago. Kate looked at her friend, and her expression was both of shock and worry.

“Oh boy.” Kate muttered.

“What am I going to do now!? i'm getting married in a year and I'm already married to a fucking superstar!”

Kate fell silent. In all honesty, she didn't know what to tell her friend. She wanted to hit her and knock some sense back in her—Angelisse was always the sensible one—but now, the woman in front of her was utterly distraught.

“I guess you have two options.” Kate said finally, breaking the long pause. “You can go find Timothée. Find out what happened last February, find out if he even remembers this ever happened. But, what are the odds he even remembers? Get a divorce or annulment, whatever the hell that works.”

The reality was setting in for the both of them. The situation between Angelisse's unexpected marriage to the actor was not going down without problems. He was famous, and if word got out about his 'spontaneous' wedding in Vegas, both of them would get eaten alive by the media.

“Or I could make it as if it never happened.” Angelisse whispered.

“The situation would be slightly more…” Kate paused, “….messy, you know? With Timothée and everything.”

“But you’d never see him again. Or…” Kate was hesitant to say the rest of what she was thinking.

“Or what?” the brunette pressed forward.

“You tell James the truth,” Kate offered with a small smile, “I mean, divorce and annulment proceedings take months—years even. He'll find out eventually, and when that happens, all hell will break loose. Better to hear from you, right?”

She was married to Timothée Chalamet, famous Hollywood actor and one of the most sought after bachelors around. That wasn't a fact you could just sweep under the rug.

“He'll be so disappointed with me, you know how he is....”

“But he deserves to know.” Kate gave her a sympathetic smile, “Angel, would you rather have him find out the truth from you or from someone else?”

Angelisse looked at her friend. She was right, but she wasn't going to risk it. She had already done it, why not try to make it right? She thought about it, and it was basically cheating. But she at least had to try, right?

“I'm going to find Timothée fucking Chalamet and I'm going to get this fixed.”

Kate eyed her friend, an amused look plastered on her face. She and Angelisse had grown up together, their mothers being friends and all. In Kate's eyes, Angelisse was strong and independent, but James? He pulls her down—discouraging her friend every chance he gets, but Angelisse doesn't see that.

“Did you get his number? No, wait, of course you didn't, you were drunk out of your mind.” Kate sighed, shaking her head furiously. “You're one stupid bitch, you know that?”

“Just help me!”

“That's what you get for waking up in Vegas.” Kate smirked at the anxious brunette in front of her who in turn, glared at her.

“This is the worst day of my life.” Angelisse muttered under her breath.

“Check your phone. Maybe you saved his number or something that could help. I'll ask my husband if he can help.” Kate offered. “Get some rest, you're gonna need it.”

“Or the best, really. You're Timotée Chalamet's fucking wife!” Kate chuckled, playfully shoving her friend. “It's literally every girl's dream!”

Angelisse groaned loudly. “Not helping!”

Angelisse rolled her eyes. “You better keep this a secret.”

“Oh, I will.”

After a few more assurances from Kate, Angelisse was finally left alone in her apartment. She opened up her phone and started to scan each and every app on her phone for clues or if she was lucky, his number. Angelisse stopped in her contacts, there was an unknown contact. Instead of a name, it was all emojis. How had she not even seen this before?

🥵🥵🥵🥵

Angelisse fidgeted with her thumbs, still debating whether she should text or call the number. What if it was him? How the hell should she tell him that they were married—in Vegas, drunk and out of their minds. It was news that if they weren't careful, it would blow up in their faces in the worst way possible. Maybe more for him than for her, but that's besides the point. She needed to get this marriage annulled, divorced, or whatever it is just to let the issue die.

Angelisse sighed, before finally clicking on the contact.

Hi, is this Timothée Chalamet?

Though Angelisse didn't remember much about what had happened that night, her mind couldn't forget the most beautiful shade of green eyes she had ever seen. Remembering his eyes felt like a dream that she didn't want to wake up from. His eyes shone like emeralds under the neon lights. Angelisse's breath hitched and her heart skipped a beat.

The brunette tossed her phone to the side and just hoped for the best. Would he even answer to an unknown number? Would she even get the chance to fix this marriage that should've not happened in the first place?

Feeling the weight of the drama tiring her down, Angelisse slipped into the bathroom for a much needed bath. She needed to relax, even for just an hour. If he answered—which was a long shot given his status as a celebrity—she could convince him to end their marriage. They were only married on paper, surely Timothée Chalamet has his eyes on some sexy model.

Brushing off the thoughts of her famous 'husband', Angelisse slipped out of her clothes and jumped into the clawfoot bathtub. She hissed as soon as the hot water came in contact with her skin before settling in the warmth surrounding her.

She wondered about how her life would turn out after clearing the marriage issues and finally marrying James. It felt surreal. Getting married to the man who she called her boyfriend for the past six years. Deep down, she knew it wasn't the best idea. And yet, here she was, engaged and soon to be married.

Angelisse took a deep breath, collecting her thoughts. Her thoughts drifted to the handsome man with soft chocolate curls and mesmerizing green eyes.

“Damn you, Timothée Chalamet.”

Angelisse got out of the tub, droplets of water clinging onto her body. She grabbed a towel and dried herself off. The brunette walked back to her room and put on a white shirt and denim shorts before going back to the living room where her phone was. She sat down on the couch and opened her phone—searching for her husband on google, again.

Timothée Chalamet was undeniably handsome. Angelisse could't deny that, she would be an idiot if she did. He's got that James Dean day dream look in his eyes that could make a woman's knees buckle at the sight of him. He has starred in Interstellar, Lady Bird, Call Me By Your Name, Beautiful Boy, The King, Little Women—which was one of Angelisse's favorite books—Dune, and an upcoming the Wonka movie. He has gotten multiple awards throughout his career and by the looks of it, he'll be receiving more. Timothée was a year older than her, being born on December 14th, 1996—just two weeks and a year apart. He was born and raised in Hell's Kitchen, while Angelisse was born and raised in the Upper East Side. Both of them had gone to Columbia University—the only difference was Angelisse, unlike him, had finished college. They had surprisingly a lot in common, but there's one thing about him that made the situation much worse.

He was dating Kylie Jenner.

Suddenly, her phone buzzed, snapping Angelisse out of her thoughts.

Of course, Angelisse knew who she was. She has watched Keeping Up With The Kardashians before and frankly in her opinion, it was annoying and disgusting—they were too problematic for her liking. And her 'husband' was dating her, apparently since the start of 2023 and last September 4th, they went public.

Angelisse was not the type of girl to get into gossip, but there were rumors that Timothée's relationship with the youngest daughter of Kris Jenner was just a PR move.

Angelisse hoped that it was, because she was not in the mood to go face to face with that woman about her boyfriend being married to her. Well, technically, she was Timothée's wife. And Timothée was having an 'affair' with Kylie Jenner. It was funny, but when she thought about it, it was shit.

Yes, this is Timothée. Who's this? How did you get my number?

Angelisse felt her heart beat rapidly inside of her chest. It was him. Her husband. Timothée fucking Chalamet.

That's what you get for waking up in Vegas, you fucking idiot.

“What do I do now?” Angelisse muttered as she stared at the text message. What was she supposed to say? I'm your wife. You married me in Vegas?

Angelisse sighed, leaning back on the couch, phone still in hand.

@helens3amstuff @gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @lovemelikecrazyiloveyoucrazy @bobthe-turmpetman29 @tchalamss

125 notes · View notes

imnotoverlyobsessive · 5 months

Text

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 🤷‍♀️

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 @camille-1019 @lixzey @shycreationdreamland @gossamer19 @chalametbich

To be added, please ask 💗

36 notes · View notes

lilmaymayy · 4 months

Text

im sorry but theres nothin i hate more than xocs in an xreader hashtag😔😔

ITS FINE IF THERES OCS IN THE FIC BUT THEY BETTER NOT END UP W MY MAN

#thats why im readin the fic bae #to see me have my happy ending w my man☺️#not to see this blonde blue eyed oc have him😞#i prmose you your fics will be read #BUT NOT BY ME IF THEY AINT TAGGED CORRECTLY 🙏🙏🙏#have a great day #she speaks🗣️#remus lupin x oc #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet imagine #finnick odair x reader #timothée chalamet #peter parker x reader #finnick odair #timothee chalamet x reader #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin #the hunger games

251 notes · View notes

bonesandchalamet · 8 months

Text

I miss you I’m sorry - t.chalamet

pairing: Timothee chalamet x reader

warning: just some fluff and missing Timmy + v short work sorry!!!

requested: y- “hii, i was hoping you could do "anytime without you is far too long" with timothée?? i got it from a prompt list but i can remember which”

it’s only been a week, and if you ask him it feels like far too long.

it’s cliche of him to say he’s beginning to forget what your laugh sounds like or how your hands feel against his, but it’s all true. a week away is destroying him.

and it would be safe to say it’s not doing wonders for you, as you’ve resorted to his clothes and sleeping on his side of the bed just to get any little bit of him that you could. while humiliation should be reminding you how embarrassing this is, you don’t feel it at all. you feel the comfort of Timothee that’s left in the sheets and his clothes.

the smell of him begins to linger now. unlike it’s previous full force of smell, only a whiff of him could be inhaled now that you’ve spent the past seven days in his things. irritation was growing as the number of days away seemed to increase, and timothees inability to answer his calls was adding up. you just missed him. was that selfish?

the infinite amount of text and voice messages fill up his Notification Center leaving a smile on his face, as he collapses into the chair to read through them all.

his smile widens reading your messages, they were texts you knew you shouldn’t bother sending, but you know he reads them. even if he hardly has the chance to reply, you know at some point he sits down and sees them all.

you: it’s only been seven days and I miss you. is that silly? anyway, I know you’re busy xx

Timothee: never silly. anytime without you is far too long. be home soon.

and soon enough he was. with a tired smile and a hug that could last a lifetime, he came home and life was finally good again.

501 notes · View notes

noodleslugworth · 2 months

Text

Absolutely NO minors

Headcanon that Willy Wonka likes to be choked

It doesn't have to be suffocating pressure. Just his significant other's hands on his throat and the slight pressing of her weight is enough to drive him crazy

If she wraps her hands around his throat while kissing or feeling him up, and squeeze just enough, even during a playful argument, he'll be turned on almost instantly and forget his train of thought. It's a devious trick she likes to pull when she wants his attention but he's been too focused elsewhere

If it's during the throngs of passion, choking him especially with more force and when he's close, will sometimes result in explosive, drawn-out orgasms that has him seeing stars, whimpering, trembling, and sometimes mumbling nonsense afterwards

Just Willy and choking ❤️

(By @palettesofrenaissance)

207 notes · View notes

bluetimeombre · 2 months

Text

Masterlist .ೃ࿐

Welcome to the circus

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

「 ✦ ACOTAR ✦ 」

✧.* Azriel

And I wouldn't marry me, either. ✧.* part one. part two.

You're Azriel's mate, but it took losing you three times for him to realise.

Winter Solistice coming soon...

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

˚ · . Tom Blyth

Falling out of love.

Fans think that you and tom are falling out of love after filming for ballad of songbirds and snakes and you don't post about each other much, so you show them that it's far from the truth.

Third times the charm.

Tom and you met over zoom whilst auditioning for your roles in the ballad of songbirds and snakes. Instant attraction and the chemistry was off the charts, everyone could see it, even you two fools. In every interview you did, as co-stars, as best friends and finally, as a couple…

Cowboy like me.

Your band has a new single out and a certain actor stars in the music video. Sparks fly just as high as rumours.

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

♡･ﾟ Timothee chalamet

₊˚ෆ Wonka

Daisy, oh my Daisy

₊˚ෆ Timothee Chalamet

Call it what you want to (ft Tom Blyth). ₊˚ෆ. part one. part two. part three. part four. part five

Wanting you under the Italian sun.

You and Timmy have most been working hard. For the summer, they decide an Italian getaway.

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ Jacob Elordi

She's like a shot of espresso

You work in a coffee shop and suddenly Jacob is a coffee enthusiast

Cardan Greenbriar coming soon...

162 notes · View notes

lainiespicewrites · 23 days

Text

The Atreides Era

Part 1

Buried in the sands

A/N: Hey everyone! obviously not my normal content! I've been working on updates on that as well! This is part of a writing Collab with my best friend @hey-its-roseaurum! We've both broken out of our comfort zone writing fics for each other's fave comfort characters. She will be posting about Sherlock so my Henry girlies definitely go check it out! I'll add the link once it's posted!

So I guess without too much warning here is my best effort at a Paul Atreides x OC fic

Summary: Paul Atreides and OC (Matar) and the other Freman are still fighting the Harkonnen in the spice fields. After almost losing his friend in battle Paul makes the decision it's time to go south. It's time to meet with the Emperor. His decisions will change the fate of his friends and the planet of Arakis. Paul knows this. He's seen it. But... at what cost?

Warnings: Description of battle, death, slight angst.

2k words

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s early that much is clear. The sun's intense heat has not yet started pouring over Arrakis, disturbing Matar’s peaceful sleep. What did disturb her was the amateur sand steps of the young man outside her tent. And the sound of his voice calling for her in a harsh whisper. Matar stirred with an agitated grumble, sitting up slowly and blinking her eyes to adjust to the soft light of dawn starting to creep in from the open flap of her tent.

“What do you want, Paul Atredies?” She groaned. The footsteps outside her tent halted and were followed by a soft chuckle. Crouching down in front of the tent Paul popped his head in sending Matar a cocky grin.

“Not Usul? Have I managed to offend you again already?” He asks with a raised eyebrow. Matar stares for a moment, watching his face and the loose wave of brown hair that’s fallen into his eyes. Interesting how they’re still so gray, his eyes, as long as he’d now been exposed to spice. Matar blinked the thought away, what did it matter? Paul Atriedies could have glowing red eyes and she’d pay no mind, he was a pest. A pest, who was her friend, one she’d grown fond of. But still a pest.

“You’ve come to me, Paul Atriedes before the sun is fully awake. This better be important.” Matar answered him, falling back against her pillow.

Paul was not discouraged by his friend's lack of energy or enthusiasm, crawling into the tent in the corner across from his friend still giving her the same dopey grin.

“How’d you know it was me?” He spoke softly now. His tone was now more gentle and letting Matar awaken properly before he poked at her further.

“You walk like an elephant, I could hear you coming from miles away,” she answered him.

“Hmm I suppose I do,” Paul agreed nodding. “Then we need to practice before we go into battle!” Paul's exclamation caused Matar to sit up. Now she was fully awake.

“Battle? What are you speaking of Usul?” The boy's smirk faded. His eyes are more serious now.

“We got word more of Harkonnen moving in on the spice fields. They’re placing their harvester as we speak. We’ll need to move in on them quickly.”

Putting the moment of banter behind them Matar quickly composed herself. Pulling her hair back she tied her long dark hair into a tight knot. She swept her hand around her tent for a moment and found her head scarf to keep her safe from the day’s intense heat. Taking in a deep breath Matar’s eyes once again settle on the man sitting across from her.

“Is Chani aware?” She asks. Her voice is smooth and calm. While she had not expected another fight. Or, ambush rather, against the Harkonnen. She was always ready. For those who control the spice control the universe. A mantra the Harkonnen were always chasing. Neither Matar nor Chani, Matar’s closest friend, would submit to that fate.

Paul’s eyes shift to the ground as he shakes his head.

“No, I figured it should come from you. She’s one of our most skilled fighters. Chani doesn’t trust me. It has to come from you, Matar.” a breath of silence falls over the two of them. For a moment. Matar thinks to be offended by this. Paul Atreides is only here to use her as a messenger. The thought is gone as quickly as it develops. There is no time for emotion. No time to dwell on the man who has shown up unannounced.

“I will see her now. Go, gather the others. We’ll need to move before the sun is at its highest point. “ She said. The man nods. But catches her wrist before she can leave the tent.

“Matar, I- I’ve seen… something. You in battle and you…” He pauses. They lock eyes. The visions. One of the many reasons Stilgar and the other southerners believe the young Atreiedies is the Messiah. Matar, Chani, and a few of their kind believe it all to be a load of shit.

However, the fear in his eyes at this moment cannot be ignored. “Please,” He pauses again emphasizing his words. “Be careful out there.” Matar doesn’t say anything. Holding his gaze she nods letting him know she understands whatever he’s seen has frightened him. He lets her go and the two of them leave the tent. There’s a warm light over their camp. Many of the other Freman have started to gather in a common area.

Paul and Matar walk in opposite directions. But before Paul is out of earshot Matar stops and calls for him.

“Usul!” She calls. He turns back to her with a look of concern etched across his face. “Whatever you saw,” she pauses. “My fate is my own to make Paul Atreides,”

Paul gives her another soft smile. He looks like he did when she first saw him this morning. Innocent, and childlike. There’s a stirring feeling in her gut. She has no time to address this. They have a planet to protect.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chani is awake and preparing for the day when Matar finds her.

“Bit early for you isn’t it?” Chani asks with a smirk.

“Funny,” Matar recants quickly, “I got a visit from Lisan al Gaib this morning.” Better to get to the point quickly.

“Don’t tell me you’ve started to buy into this Messiah facade?” Chani questions. Eyeing her friend with a curious expression. Matar scoffs

“Why do I sense you’re already feeling hostile this morning?” Matar says, “Of course, I don’t believe it, I believe what I can see Chani. And what I see is that Paul Atreides has helped us successfully fight against the Harkonnen attacking our spice fields.

“There’s another harvester?” Chani asks although it’s clear she knows the answer already.

“He doesn’t believe you you trust him. But I know that you will protect your family.” Matar says.

“I don’t trust him. But I see what he’s done. And It can’t be ignored. Believe me, I have tried. “ She pauses with a smirk. “And as long as I’m fighting beside you, I’ll always show up for the fight.”

“Don’t be soft,” Matar teases. Smacking her friend on the shoulder.

“It’s you who’s gone soft Matar. Don’t get so close to him, his mother can not be trusted. She seeks more power than anyone should hold.” Chani warns

“We are not close, But I believe he could be a good ally, and that woman can burn for all I care. Now come, we’ve got to prepare for an ambush.” She smirks as she and her friend set out to join the other soldiers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Silence. Nothing but the sound of the wind stirring the sand. A maua’dib, a small desert mouse, could be heard skittering across the sand dune. Unsuspecting of the unrest that is soon to occur. Matar’s eyes scan over the top of the dune, zeroing in on the harvester only feet away from her and the others. Paul and Chani have, for the time being, come to a truce and have gone undetected underneath the foul piece of machinery. Matar and the others are waiting for their signal. This is when they will move in.

A loud blast breaks the silence. A shot attacked the Harkonnen craft surveying the harvester and the security. The signal. The others jump to their feet. Stilgar and his men attack the security with daggers. Slicing into them and killing them before the intruders even see the Freman warriors coming. Matar takes a shot at the harvester aiming for one of its claw-like pillars. The blast hits but it quickly gains her attention. She makes quick steps and rolls out of the way as a Harkonnen security tries to land an attack. He misses. This was a fatal mistake for him. Granted he was always going to die. Another Freman soldier stabs the Harkonnen before he can advance any closer. Matar locks eyes with the person and they nod at each other before they continue their battle. She stands, once again aiming for the harvester. This time she aims right in the center. Fuck it. No more time for games. Time to blow this thing up. Taking one last look to be sure her friends will not become casualties she takes the shot. She doesn’t watch it land. Matar is pulled back by another Harkonnen. He has a dagger held to her ribcage. She barely hears the sound of the explosion over her heart pounding in her ears. At least she landed it. One last explosion before the bitter end. She twists to break the hold but the man has a tight grip on her neck. Fuck.

He lifts the blade ready to plunge it into her chest. And then. He goes limp. His body falls to the sand. Matar sucks in a deep breath. Finally, she turns. Paul’s eyes are wide as they search her for injury.

“Are you?” He begins. She holds up her hand to stop him.

“Do not fuss over me, I am not dead,” she tells him. With one last thud. The final Harkonnen is dropped to the ground. Someone, Stilgar likely, calls for the rest of them to gather quickly and evacuate the area. The Freman army and their messiah head back to camp. However, halfway back Paul stops them.

“Gather your things. This is the last time we fight the Harkonnen like this. Tomorrow, we go south.” He states. Chani and Matar exchange a look.

“Paul Atreides we cannot…” Chani begins to protest

“I will not continue to watch them abuse this planet. I will not wait for the emperor to make his move. We are going south. And we will take on the emperor.” He states again.

The rest of the Freman army cheers. Paul Atreides, once again is fulfilling their prophecy. But Matar. Feels like a dagger has been stuck in her side. He once told her, He wished nothing more to be equal to her. But he couldn’t mean that. Not when he was headed south to possess more power than any person should ever wield.

The Freman army arrived back at camp. Some celebrated. Some dressed wounds from the day's battle.

“He’s a good fighter, but I knew he could not be trusted,” Chani says absentmindedly. The girls are both watching Paul off in the distance while Stilgar celebrates their success.

“Do you have to be right about everything?” Matar questions.

“No, just tends to pan out that way,” Her friend says before wandering off to her own tent. Matar sighs finding a seat and taking out her dagger sharpening it with a stone. After a few moments, she feels a presence and then there is someone sitting beside her.

“Matar,” Pauls voice speaks.

“I don’t wish to speak to you Usul,” she says, continuing to sharpen the blade. He ignores her grabbing her wrist and pulling her attention from the dagger.

“You almost lost your life today.” He says. Matar shrugs.

“I was protecting my people Paul Atredies, it’s what we do,” she responds.

“Maybe, but I have lost far too many people I care about. You will not be next Matar.” He says.

“Paul,” Matar begins.

“Going south, I’ll take control. I can protect you and protect us all once we’ve made an attack against the emperor,” he argues. Matar is stuck. She is angry. She doesn’t want this. She opens her mouth to recant. To tell him he is wrong. Nothing comes out. She pauses again. She’s quiet for a while and then.

“Usul. You told me once. About these…oceans, on your home planet. Describe them again.” She requests. Surprising Paul and herself.

“Caladan is covered in oceans and water. They are… as blue as your eyes.” He smiles at her. “As deep as them too. There’s no end even as you look at the horizon. They go on forever.” He explains.

“I still… do not believe you Paul Atreides,” Matar answers, ignoring the growing warmth in her face.

“You will,” Paul says without thought.

“We, shall…”

“Lisan al Gaib, Come” Stilgar calls, “There’s much to do before our journey tomorrow. We must prepare!”

Matar lets out I sigh.

“You’re celebration awaits Paul Atreides.” she says.

“Matar,” He says softly.

“I will see you at dawn…Lisan al Gaib.” a moment of hurt flashes in Paul's eyes but it’s gone before Matar can register it. They both turn and part for the evening.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: This is Part one of ? We're still discussing the terms of this collab LOL

IF you'd like to be added to a tag list for this story please let me know! I know for my followers that read my Henry fics this is a bit different but I hope you enjoyed this too. If you decide to give it a read :) Thank you all. Dont forget to check out @hey-its-roseaurum Sherlock fic!

Tag list:

@enchantedbytomandhenry @summersong69 @carrie80reads @identity2212 @caramariehurst @redheadrouge @warriormirkwood@gummydummy19@deandoesthingstome@shellyshellshell@mary-ann84@starfirewildheart@foxyjwls007

67 notes · View notes

apolloanddaphnis · 11 months

Text

Speaking in Tongues

Part III

Disclaimer: There's smut that might make people uncomfortable. Not proofread.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

We ended up parked behind the Hollywood sign around 4 in the morning.

The heat was on in the car and the seat warmers, it was nice and toasty. Timothée's seat was reclined all the way back and I had somehow made it so I was sitting comfortably sideways in his bony yet comfy lap. My fingers were buried in his Hershey's chocolate curls, as his big ring adorn hand rested on my hip beneath the borrowed shirt that smells like him, his finger toying with the band of my thong. His face rested in my cleavage, he even undid more buttons so he could feel my bare flesh pillowing his cheek.

It felt comforting and erotic being this close to him, as his other arm was wrapped around my waist to keep me close, I realized I didn't think I had such a wonderful cuddle like this one.

He let me choose the music and I signed into my Spotify on his phone. I Go Crazy by Flesh for Lulu played beautifully through the speakers of his Tesla. As I gently massaged his scalp, I allowed my ears to be caressed by the lyrics of the song.

This city's mad in the head

And sick in the soul

All the stars flew away a long time ago

Isn't that nice

Like Miami Vice

I go crazy when I'm without you

Well your life is like an infants dream

It's like everything's on TV

You see your face in the mirror

Could it be your place in the mirror

And so we turn on the TV one more time

And we see that everything is fine

"This song is really good." He said. "The eighties seemed to have a lot of good hits, the kind that describe how you feel and you didn't notice you felt this way until the song came on." He rambled into my skin, the breath of his words tickling my flesh making my nipples hard and pebbled.

"Exactly, I don't think anytime was more expressive and emotional than the eighties, it was my favorite. I know that sounds so cliche and nostalgic, but I've always felt so out of place with this time." I explained as I rubbed that spot behind his ear that caused him to groan and me to smirk.

Postcards from Paradise from the same band played next, I sang along a little and softly. Timothée lifted his head from my cleavage smiling up at me toothy, I giggled and it was cut off when he nuzzled the corner of my lips, and kissed me there. He sat up a little more causing me to bounce a little in his lap. He squeezed my hips and sighed audibly into my throat before kissing there as well.

I giggled softly and rubbed his back, and he responded by licking my chin and kissing my mouth and oh my God. Where has this mouth been all my life? Why have I never been kissed like this? Why hasn't anyone massaged the shape of my lips, or curled them with the rolling of tongue and pulling with teeth as if trying to bring my mouth closer. It wasn't fast, it was slow, slow, sensual, and I barely felt it before he gently pried my lips open with his and he slipped that long muscle in. He licked my tongue and rubbed my lower back beneath the shirt before cupping my ass, fingers flirting with the strings of my thong.

He sucked on my tongue before stroking every cavern in my mouth with that skilled tongue of his, and took a ringed hand to gently grab my jaw gingerly. The kiss grew to be more intense and we pulled apart reluctantly because we literally couldn't even breathe anymore. His face was beautifully flushed, Rouge bloomed across cheeks and the bridge of his freckled nose.

My tongue hung out a bit and he stared at it with a soft, little moan before kissing me again, this time a little faster with saliva pooling. I squeaked and it was muffled, before hungrily kissing him in return, I wanted to kiss him so deep I wanted to taste what he had for breakfast.

He rolled his hips up against mine, pinning a barely covered crotch with his hard on that the sweats barely concealed. My eyes rolled back and he kissed my lips more before sweetly kissing my cheek and eyes. Then he sucked on my ear lobe like it was a gobstopper. I shivered and released a shaking moan, I was dripping wet staining his sweats as he fucked me through clothing practically. He then thrust his tongue into my ear. "Timothée!" I cried out.

He ripped his shirt from my body with such force I heard the expensive buttons clatter to the floor. His eyes zeroed in on my breasts and he grasped them and squeezed them. "These are so…fuck." He buried his face in them and sucked on my fawn colored nipples and sucked hard , teeth grazing as his mouth tugged on them painfully in a way that had me on the verge of an orgasm.

I watched him suck between the two with his eyes rolling back. I can't believe he was getting off from my breasts like this, he's so hot. I tugged hard on his curls and he snuck a hand below before ripping my thong off, it now laid in tatters on the floor of his car.

He laid back on his reclined seat. "Come on kitten, climb up."

I was dizzy and panting. "Huh?"

"Straddle my face."

My eyes widened. "I might crush you."

"Good, it'd be a hell of a way to go. I want those playboy, made for shorts thighs that are most likely the envy of every gymnast, to hug my head, forcing my face further into that sweet little cunt. I don't give a fuck if you're worried for some stupid reason, you haven't reason to be self conscious you're easily the most beautiful most sexually frustrating little sex kitten ever to be born. And if you don't sit on my face right now I'm going to punish you, I mean it."

I didn't see this coming, the unexpected dominant nature, the filthy praise. He was out of my wettest dreams.

I wanted to be so good for him, so I didn't waste a moment more. I hovered my dripping pussy over his awaiting mouth, and he grabbed my thighs and pushed his face up pressing his mouth to me, causing me to gasp. He then laid back down bringing my ass right to his face.

His groan vibrated rapturously against my pussy before he sucked on my labia with greed. I gasped and grinded down and thoroughly rubbed his tongue through every fold before thrusting his tongue inside of me. My eyes rolled back and rode his face more, his nose bumped against my clit and then he sucked my bud into his mouth and I couldn't wait, and when he slapped my ass so hard causing a wave of ripples thundering across my ass, I came so hard and so much and my eyes rolled back again and I felt like a doll that's voice box has been broken and I'm sputtering things on repeat. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" I cried out, tears poured down my cheek in black from my mascara.

I slid down and pushed down his sweats into his anaconda of a cock sprung out almost cartoonishly. I was drooling, and it hit his thigh. His cock twitched and he whined. "Fuck." He gasped.

I reached down and rubbed my release from my pussy, I dropped saliva on his tip and took my slicked hand and rubbed my juices along with my saliva rubbing his cock with the organic lubricant. He bucked his hips almost violently. I watched in awe as I took my soaked hand and rubbed and kneaded his balls. I couldn't see his face since my ass was in his but hips and serpentine cock was telling me everything. I gently played with balls and stroked his cock, wet and lewd sounds echoed in the car playing along with Flesh for Fantasy.

I moved my mouth down to the puckered hole between his ass, I swirled my tongue around his rim and he made the most delicious whine of a sound. "Fuck, just like that you dirty girl" he groaned his voice going higher at the end.

I spat on his hole before sucking on it and he bucked again. "Holy fuck!" He gasped. I still was stroking his cock sloppily, as I sucked on his hole, my drool spilling before I pressed my tongue in and his cock was leaking spilling his cock. Wet, slurping noises mixed with his whining. I then moved my mouth off of his rim and took his cock in my mouth, he gripped my ass and thrust into my mouth before spreading my cheeks and I felt his spit on my hole, causing me to moan around his thickness.

He mimicked my motions from earlier, sucking on my hole and I whimpered against his shaft. Timothée didn't hold back any longer, he started fucking my mouth and I gripped his thighs to hold on, my nails dug into his skin as he sucked on my rosebud and proceeded to tongue fuck it as he slammed his cock down my throat. Tears spilled down my face as sloppy lewd sounds muffled my cries and his eager feasting.

I felt a single ringed finger move in stretching my back door entrance and I writhed, writhing like I was possessed. I choked on his cock and orgasmed just when he filled my mouth with his release.

He pulled me off him as he panted lazily, he gently patted my ass. "I'm not done with you, chouchou."

I felt boneless but was being pulled about, before I knew it he had me on his reclined seat with my bruised nipples pressed against the cooling leather. He spread my legs and slapped my ass hard, when I let out a yelp he slapped it again and harder before grabbing it roughly in such a dizzying manner. He bit my cheek hard and I let out a sob before I melted into a moan. He bit my other cheek and I gasped. I knew I was going to be black and blue later. I shivered when he rubbed my dripping pussy before forcing two fingers in deliciously.

"F-fuck!" I stuttered.

"Jesus, wet little fuck doll. Feel that? You love this don't you? Love me destroying this perfect made to order body. You want me penetrating you in every sense of the word, no one else just me?"

I could hardly answer so weakly nodded, but he wasn't having that. He bit my ass so hard and clung to the seat lurching forward. "Answer me, chouchou, je l'exige!"

He's bossing me around in French? Was I dreaming? Did I get drugged and induced to this alternate reality like my own Wonderland?

I love it, I love this, I wanted his name etched into every part of me.Timothée, Timothée, Timothée, Timothée.

He didn't demand me in harsh tones or a darkening voice, every command in French or English has been in gentle chastising, stern and soft, almost lazy sounding, with a threat beneath.

"Shit, look at that pussy glisten, you like me roughing you up? You're a doll that likes to be played with so hard she breaks? More Bratz than Barbie?"

"Yes!" I cried out, his words pushing me toward another orgasm.

"There's her voice, thought I lost it, don't ever not speak again baby. " He pressed against me, that weapon he calls a cock sandwiched between my ass like they're a pair of buns and he has the hot dog. He kissed my neck gently, his ringlets brushed against my skin. "I always want to hear your pretty voice, it's the most gorgeous sound in the whole word."

I almost cried at his saccharine words, no one has ever spoken to me like that.

"Yes, Timothée. "

"You're so good, so sweet, now are you going to be a good little whore and let me in?" He slapped his cock against my weeping hole. "Just gonna be a whore for me? Open your pussy for me?" He bit on my neck making me whine. "Shake this fine ass for me?" He gripped my ass making it jiggle. "Be good please" He pleaded and sniffed my hair. "Shake it for me as I impale you with my cock, I've always dreamed…"

The fact that I have starred in his fantasies, I couldn't believe I was that high on someone like Timothée Chalamet's pedestal. He pushed inside me slowly, and I felt him so deep in, tip brushing close to my cervix, I felt brain dead. Once he bottomed out he placed his hand on my abdomen where I could see his outline of his dick, holy fuck.

Remembering his pleas, I moved my ass bouncing it back on his cock provocatively. He groaned his hands held onto me possessively, his breath panting in my ear as he pinned me down with no way of me escaping as he fucked into me. His balls slapped against my pussy lips. "Good girl, good girl. Fuck that's it, best ass in the world, best pussy, so tight!" He gasped as he pounded inside of me faster, obscene sounds of our affair overpowered the volume of our Playlist.

I whined for more. He was thrusting so fast and so hard, stretching me more than I've ever been and the delicious pain of him hitting my cervix pulling me into a state of bacchanal frenzy. I couldn't ever cum unless I felt a bite of pleasure, he knows my body so well like he owns it. He bit the back of my shoulder sinking his teeth in and I gripped his cock, choking it with my pussy.

He sobbed out into my ear, pounding faster and faster, my eyes crossed, my tongue fell out and unintelligent words spilled from my mouth as I squirted and made a mess on his cock and his expensive car. I felt him fill me and fill me, no way could anyone have this much cum? It hasn't ended, I suddenly for the first time desired cumflation, to show physical evidence of where it all went.

"I-ung-ngh!" I got out and he laughed maniacally, lost in his own state of euphoria. "Fuck that's right, take it. Sois une gentille fille pour moi, prends tout mon petit chaton crème. Laisse-moi te posséder, te posséder, et je t'adorerai, je ferai tout ce que tu voudras. S'il vous plaît, s'il vous plaît, s'il vous plaît, putain!"

He finished his last ropes, with a loud outcry. We cried together and he collapsed against me. His cock still in me was still hard even though he panted like he climbed Everest when he just climbed me. "One more time please…one more time before I take you home."

I was beyond exhausted, everywhere was sore. I would need an Epsom salt bath, 3 200mg ibuprofen, and cotton underwear. No way could I take another around. "Okay, just one more."

@sufferingstarlight @meetmyothersouls

#timothee chamalet #timothée chalamet #timothée chalamet x oc #timothée chalamet smut #smut

268 notes · View notes

xalicitie · 2 months

Text

Take Care of Me — Paul Maud’dib Atreides (smut)

Leila is Chani’s trusted crony. While Chani and Paul share a passionate and intimate love for one another, as Paul embraces his role as Lisan Al-Gaib, Chani encounters detrimental trouble in dealing with his new persona and thus turns to Leila as a channel for her frustration. Leila has been Paul’s own medic for a day, and returning to his chambers to treat an opened wound, she takes her frustration out on him. And yet, she finds out he’s frustrated, too.

The full story will be posted on AO3–HAHA. Just kidding. I have no fucking motivation anymore and it’s killing me. If I manage to fill in a few scenes on this story, then it will make it onto AO3. The full story starts a few scenes ahead of this.

Also, this is based on the movies. I’m reading book 1 now, but I wrote this pretty early on. A lot of the stuff probably won’t make sense in the Dune world. If u have a problem suck my cokkk

Isn’t it obvious I like medic smut scenarios

Also if u want the ending of this tell me! idk if the Dune fandom will welcome me here🙏

I enter Paul Maud’Dib Atreides’ chambers for my second round—and yet within my circumstance, and the unfortunate display of events that have fallen into place, instead of knocking, I barge through.

I find Usul confined to his bed, blood gushing through his white garment.

“Leave.” I pronounce with an impatient tongue. The nurses at Usul’s side take a look at me, and with silent agreement, rush off and through his grand doors.

Usul dons a blank countenance, slightly embellished with the graze of concern. More prominently, however, I can see physical pain in his eyes. I try not to let him uncover that this deeply perturbs me.

“Now why in the fucking world would you do this to yourself?” I demand. My footsteps boom through the lifeless room, my lips stiff with inhibition.

He sits there for a second, gaping up at me slightly, plainly confused.

“Excuse me?”

I know this is the Messiah. And I understand that he could have me thrown off the planet for speaking to him in such a wretched way. But with this, I uncover in myself boiling rebellion.

“Damnit, don’t gape at me.” I snarl a bit. I can feel my indignation running wild, through a pounding chest and through my mindless mouth.

“Sit up.”

He does, silently. I’m grateful.

“Take this off.”

I gesture to his shirt. He does this, too.

I come around with a cloth. Staring down at him, I survey the image—he’s bleeding out. Quickly, at that. He messed up his stomach wound considerably. His toned stomach is scaled with blood, a red, filthy gash on his left side. My heartbeat chases a pounding rhythm. Holy shit: he might fucking die.

My inhibition snaps.

“Nevermind. Screw it. Lay against the headrest. Be careful, you damned fool.”

Usul groans as he backs into his bed. “I was told I was getting nursed, not chastised.” He seethes through a set of clamped teeth.

“Yes, well, you managed to ruin your binding. I can see it took an incredible amount of effort, too.” I climb into the bed. Barring off any uncomfortable undertones, I crawl towards him.

“Yet I also don’t need a fucking coach right now, Leila. I need a medic.” I feel his hot breath lingering in the air near; I snap my face towards his. His gaze is unwavering, and I can see his studying gaze, his brow twitching calculatingly.

I’m a frazzled mess—I can tell as my eyes twitch that’s it’s painfully obvious.

I flinch suddenly. My gaze wanders, and I find warm, masculine digits consuming mine.

“You need to stop shaking, damnit.”

His quiet yet pregnant words resonate with me and into my weak, distressed body. I fall still. With his palm against my aching fingers, I find the quickest respite.

“Focus. I will not die.”

“Did you prophesize that, hm?”

“No. I trust you.”

My eyes flutter shut. I inhale a tremulous breath. He’s right—I can’t work in my state right now. But if I want to do as much as merely stopping the bleeding, I’ll have to shift my attitude. Swiftly.

My mind doesn’t dare wander towards Chani. It would be custom for me to turn to her for strength, but the mental image of her mainly brings about animosity. Instead, I focus here, now—on Usul’s palpable heat, in his hands and in the heavy scent of his presence.

I take a moment. A moment, quietly finding my peace and my lost, inner instinct.

After many prolonged breaths, I sit up.

And I get to work.

“This is going to hurt. You might want to lay down.”

Silently, he obeys me.

My skills succumb to my mind. I work intensely—I dab the cloth into his thick blood, which stains his alabaster skin. As I work, a few meager thoughts roam my mind: I doubt no Fremen wouldn’t pay their wage for a touch of his blood, I ponder. Being so intimate with his mortality brings everything into scope; Usul has a power only rivaled by Emperors, Kings, and Queens, however any hit can be fatal. Without Paul, the Fremen lose their symbol and their incentive. But, well, no pressure.

On the other hand, I’m notably grateful for his compliance. And I’m even further impressed with his determination too, in refusing to speak a single word nor a mere sound. As I uncover my own tenets, and I come out of Chani’s shadow, I’m starting to realize.. my favor isn’t entirely for Chani.

A bowl of water arrives with a nurse. Thanking her and sending her off, I near Usul again.

“Does this have to do with Chani?”

As I begin to clean his wound, I talk pointedly, inquiry woven into my tone.

His voice comes eventually, but he groans when I pour the sacred water directly onto his gash. His bony fingers twitch and attach onto the mattress, grasping lightly.

“-Did she tell you anything?” He utters begrudgingly.

“Mhm.” I answer.

“Is that why you’re in a mood?”

Water pools onto his stomach, which is hard with muscles, rising and falling with his trained breaths. It slips onto the bed, wetting it gradually by the second.

“I questioned you first.” I demand.

I can smell his eyes rolling a mile away.

“Yes. I attempted .. reaching her. She’s more stubborn now than I recall.”

I nod involuntarily. Stubborn was a nice word.

“So, you’re not her minion anymore?”

My focused brows shoot up. I drive my mien into his.

“Do you want me to screw up your wound?”

“Leila.”

Trickles and little indications of nerves meander through my body. I realize I’ve paused my work, and with a surge of purpose, I return.

“I don’t dislike the change. You’re finding yourself.”

I bite my gum. “So I have been a nobody until now?”

“No.”

I draw a cloth, lathered with soap around the borders of his wound. He mumbles something, maybe a curse, before speaking again.

“It’s gratifying to see you.. not so impressionable.”

I really do hate being timid and gullible sometimes. Thus, the reason Chani’s been such a magnetic force of my life. She has stiff, ardent opinions, and a defensive stance. Her caution keeps her ready to strike.

But I know this persona is who I am. Even now, with a callous expression discoloring my soft features, I understand—this isn’t me.

“Well, I can’t take care of you forever.” I speak with disdain, brushing away my probing thoughts. “Whatever you do in your pastime isn’t my business, but if you manage to break through this dressing a second time, for whatever reason, I’m getting another nurse to manage your carelessness.”

I hear a smile. “Yes ma’am.”

“Do you know what it is to be a nurse?” I begin. “No. You fight, and you thrust your blade at any living thing. We clean up. We witness the rubble of war, and we tend to the malignant products of violence.” I set the now empty bowl aside, my eyes cast far into the monochrome walls.

“You can’t afford to be careless. You’re the Messiah, Usul. And I surely cannot, either. I mess up, and you’re blood’s on my hands.” I pause. “In this very moment, we’re linked—so I just want you to do your part, as I do mine.”

“So I’m the source of your ire.”

My face scrunches into a frazzled frustration. “Did you hear anything I just said?

“I won’t mess up again. You can trust me.” I rest there, sitting above his body as my fingers dress his wound with ointment, a stone-cold countenance on my face. “What bothers you?”

I bite my gum grimly. “Don’t provoke me.”

“But if you keep your anger confined, what else might invoke it?”

“This isn’t the time for this, Usul.”

“-Paul.”

My fingers halt, propped against his warm skin as I meet eyes with Usul.

“What?”

“I would rather you call me Paul.”

I search my mind. Does anyone other than Chani call him Paul? His mother, of course. And Gurney, obviously. But the list drags to a stop there.

Is he marking the enhancement of our friendship? Maybe he’s egging me into transferring information. Altogether, it puzzles me.

Alas, I disregard my selfish thoughts. It’s foolish of me to pleasure myself with the thought that I might mean something special to the Lisan Al-Gaib. Sighing, I rise from my position.

“Okay, Paul.”

I turn to the table at my flank, taking up a pristine, fresh sheet of dressing into my hands. “Sit up against the headrest. ..Please.”

He does so without complaint once again. I approach him apprehensively. The silence is disarming. I can feel his gaze on me like a cool, unshakeable breeze.

As I begin my work, I succumb to his request.

“Counsel-Member Sarat has been my patient for the past week.” I swallow my shame while my fingers press into Paul’s stomach, attaching the covering gingerly. “He died today. Of infection. And .. and the counsel thought it fit for me to be demoted from my position as head nurse since, inherently, the war has ‘dulled my senses and muted my skills’. They’re rather unyielding in their blame, which they’ve..” I laugh dully. “..brutally pinned on me.”

“They’ve stripped you of your title as head nurse?”

“Mhm.” I confirm gently. It feels that, if I speak a decibel louder, I might crackle and fall apart.

“Give me an hour; I’ll give you your title back.”

“..Paul, it is not your place.” I tell him with warning eyes.

“What do you mean? Why not?”

“I-“ I grunt out an intermittent groan. “Do you really care if I’m head nurse or not?”

“You’re the best in your field. I’ve seen it, I witness it this very moment. Ignorance runs through the council, it’s rather obvious.”

If my complexion warrants it, I blush. I haven’t heard kudos of such high acclaim of late, or.. ever, perhaps. Hardness and disdain may have encrusted my heart, but his words seem to chip at the layers with ease.

“Just, don’t act yet.” I say carefully. “Today has been enough for me. A prolonged night of sleep might just be enough to relieve me of this stress.”

I apply one last morsel of pressure into his side with my palm, scrutinizing the dressing. Immediately, the strings of responsibility lay off of my shoulders. He’s alive, breathing, and his stomach is marked by white linen rather than the thick, maroon tints of his precious blood.

“And you. Our deal?”

I look for understanding in his face, yet I’m met with gentle confusion. I roll my eyes.

“Take care of yourself. Don’t fuck your wounds up, and I don’t have to stress about you.”

“Mmm, because you care so much about me?”

He says this blandly and with a husky tone. I chuckle, falling cocky. “You know what I mean-“

Something warming creeps up my waist. My eyes drawn to the sensation, I look down to see Paul’s hand at my side.

I lift my head. I’m met with his eyes—blue and slitted, brushed by the shadow of the dim light at the end of the spacious room. The cold throb of the air suddenly becomes terribly tangible.

Suddenly, I know. As he holds my gaze, as he holds me, I know. Every stalking thought of my intuition was valid—the prickles of tension were never figments of my wild imagination. That look, that look of his is polluted with infatuation.

I press myself away from him. “What is—what are you-”

“Just stop, Leila.”

His fingers dig a little into my skin. Suddenly, my walls are up. My shoulders surrender to stiffness; my breath refuses to release.

He leans in closer, stealing meager inches of the mattress.

“Isn’t it easier this way? We’re both stressed out of our minds, it hurts, I know. I can relieve you of your pressure, Leila-“

“You jest!”

I push him away with incredulous palms. This shocks me just as much as it does him.

“Chani. We both care for her—is this what you imply?! For two of her loved ones to betray her in one night?-”

“What is there to betray?!”

With a quickness I’m unable to fathom, we are then a mess of limbs; his legs have crawled forth and are propped onto mine, his arm bridging the distance, deft fingers bordering the brink of my neck and shoulder.

Not a wisp of breath sprouts from inside of me.

“She is frustrating. I know you’re angry with her, with how you so unabashedly project. You’re awfully transparent.”

“You are a cocky bastard.”

“Mm.”

Paul tilts his head, as if saying ‘see?’. I stifle a curse from spilling out, off my flaring tongue.

Warmth spreads like wildfire at my hip, as his left hand claims its spot. The thumb of his right ventures over my jaw and to my cheek, while his remaining digits curl around my neck. I repress a shudder, as well as a susurration at my mouth—one that would surely betray me.

“Don’t you see?” He says it so low, his voice crackles in its sudden baritone as he speaks. “Let me take care of you.”

My eyes flutter shut. My mouth gapes slightly; he leans closer and closer.

“You are Chani’s. Chani is yours.”

“You know that's not true.”

My breath trembles audibly. I can hear it in the thick air.

“Why don’t you act on your own desires?”

“How arrogant do you have to be? I do not desire one morsel of you-“

“Ah, I’ve yet to see you pull back.”

My lashes flutter, opening my eyes so that I can witness a peek of the image in front of me: he breathes me in like oxygen, as if he might suffocate any moment. I can see two slits of blue, their light dawning on me and onto the amalgamation of our intimate shadows.

“I'm afraid I know you better than you know yourself, Leila..”

I breathe in, desperately attempting to sort out my visceral thoughts. Maybe a mere moment of preparation, maybe just a little time ..

Yet he denies it. I breathe in, and Paul Atreides has ensnared me with his lips.

The power he has over me is, in itself, terrifying. I mold underneath his touch, every contiguity setting my skin aflame. Paul kisses like a savage—as we sway, his tongue slithering hungrily between my lips, our mouths a battle of uncertainty and voracity, I see him in a different light. The stiff, self-controlled, solemn boy stripped of his armor is revealed to be an animal, just like any other man.

He must be stressed out of his mind. His movement is desperate, his lips feral. His body snakes over me as my hands brush against his skin—each finger passing a rib one by one, drinking in his warmth. Skin of the Messiah.

Even if I refuse to merge with the Fremens’ united belief, I understand well, with awe and terror, Paul’s title and his power. It chills me, through flesh and into the cavern of my soul: I contact the armor of a royally begotten warrior, and I am all the same groped by the hands of a mighty killer.

Chani. Chani. Chani.

I miserably try to redirect my focus. It shocks me how insanely hungry I am for him—it never occurred to me that I had affection for Paul, but my desire flows copiously. I think back on Chani. I attempt to meditate and recall their love and what strife I’m paving.

And yet my body betrays me, These thoughts, even further, backfire.

I am angry. I am tired, and worn from Chani’s groping. The circumstance is rousing something in me—a beast of a feeling, a pit of animosity. Without caution, I shove Paul into the headrest.

“Stay still.”

I climb onto him. I look down, and find his glimmering blue eyes consumed with startled shock.

“Don’t you care about your wounds at all?”

I kiss him. I trap him against the head of the mattress, letting my hands run wild. With his waist bearing my weight, I begin to steadily ride his crotch.

Paul isn’t mine. In a perverse way, this motivates me further—he could be using me as a channel of relief or as a source for his irate, and he might even be infatuated with me. Yet once I’m immersed in my drive, and I’ve established a tantalizing pace to bounce over and over on his hard-on, I realize: I don’t really care. I want this, and I’ll take my goddamn share.

#paul atreides #paul atreides smut #dune part two #dune #timothée chalamet #Paul Atreides fanfic #Paul Atreides fanfiction #dune fanfiction #Paul Atreides x oc #fanfiction #oneshot

113 notes · View notes

http-alexademie · 1 year

Text

Bonjour🫧

vanityfair

liked by emrata and 100,583 other

vanityfair If the future of Hollywood is in the hands of Oscar nominee y/f/n, then it’s a very bright future ahead!! Young Hollywood actress Miss y/f/n is now a two time Oscar nominee, whom not only are we rooting for but are also very excited to see what she will be wearing at this years ceremony!

view all 1,861 comments

y/nfan101 istg if she doesn’t win this year then the oscar’s are officially rigged

y/i/nfan69 my queen better not get robbed of this award again

randomfan5 boring.

timmyfan2 i am praying her and timmy go together

y/nfan777 same, my life will be complete 😃

timotheefan56 not even a big fan of y/n but i’m low-key rooting for her

y/nfan90 let’s talk abt how hot she looks…

y/nfan25 fr like vanity fair rlly knows what their doing

randomfan00 i have never seen this women in my life but she is fineee

y/i/nfan7 i’m in love with her…

timotheefan052 i think we can all agree that y/n deserves this award so much like her acting is just top tier😫

tchalamet added to their story!

y/i/n

liked by drewstarkey and 2,009,777 others

y/i/n I can’t even belive how lucky i am to even be nominated for a second Oscar. Thank you all so much for supporting me along the way, i love you with all my heart xoxo-y/n <3

view all 13,768 comments

y/nfan555 omg we love you so much y/n you deserve this so much❣️

y/nfan6 this is why you y/n will always be my favourite celebrity

timmyfan90 thanks for the timmy content, this is why we love u

y/i/nfan69 fuck…you are so goddam hot

y/nfan82 this is so real

randomfan5 u smoke??

florencepugh so proud of you my star 🥲🥲❤️

y/i/n love you 😏❣️

timotheefan775 give me your talent😫😫

timfan19 omg my man

y/i/nfan72 live laugh love y/n <3

y/nfan777 mother

bellahadid omg my baby’s all grown up😓genuinely so proud of you y/n <333

y/i/n love you sm babe😫❣️

randomfan09 i’m not a major fan of y/n but i’m so glad she’s finally getting the recognition she finally deserves!!

timfan3 overrated🥱

y/nfan16 since when tf was she overrated ??

y/i/n added to their story!

enews

liked by fatherkels and 21,777 other

enews Here she comes…Miss y/f/n 👏🏻looking amazing as always #Oscars. (📷:Getty)

view all 5,892 comments

y/nfan00 her outfit did not fail at all

y/nfan555 i will never stop loving this women😭

timmyfan06 okay i get why timmy’s dating her now

y/i/nfan69 i physically cannot

timfan25 a tear ran down my leg…

y/nfan1 so real for this

randomfan89 bit scandalous

y/nfan61 she’s so pretty omg, she never fails

y/i/nfan17 istg if this bitch doesn’t win

timfan12 omg did u see timmy being a little fan boy😭😭

timothèefan557 yes omg he’s actually so cute

y/nfan09 their defo the best couple on the internet

y/nfan89 ughhh she’s so gf

284 notes · View notes

palettesofrenaissance · 4 months

Text

I thought to drop a link this fic here too because

I have been in a writing rut for over a year

Thought to branch to a different source material and branch out from my usual fluff and happy romance by trying to get into dark fics

I made a one-chapter that's more of a concept about this canon compliant AU

Saw this new film and fell in love with the lady with a beautiful voice that showed up for only like five seconds

Pretty please check it out and let me know what you think.

It's Permanent Marker on my ao3

This could be the start of more content with potentially darker material starring this background character

If you like this please let me know. If you didn't, please be helpful with your words

63 notes · View notes

lixzey · 6 months

Text

foolish ones

two hearts, bound to fall in love.

theodore laurence x march sister!oc

coming soon!

@helens3amstuff @gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @lovemelikecrazyiloveyoucrazy @tchalamss

74 notes · View notes

imnotoverlyobsessive · 5 months

Text

Summary: modern fic with my OC; Tim’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.

4 notes · View notes

andguesswhat · 4 months

Text

I wanted someone cute for Willy to have for Christmas, that's all 🤷🏼‍♀️ Christmas fluff 🎄with chocolate balls 🍬 and a bit of icing ☃️

Willy Wonka and the thing called love

The thing was this: It wasn't that Willy had anything against love. He loved many things. Chocolate in every imaginable shape and color, he loved inventions in every imaginable form. He also loved people. His mother, for example. Noodle, of course... and the friends he had met at the laundry factory. In a way, he even loved Lofty, the grumpy Oompa Loompa.

But when it came to an intimate relationship with another person, things became difficult. It just never matched with the women who wanted to get to know him better. He really tried, but it hadn't worked. Instead, he had kind of accidentally kissed his best friend once. But of course that hadn't ended well either. The thought of how his best friend, who was no longer his best friend afterwards, had looked at him still made him blush to this very day.

He had long wondered why he couldn't just fall in love with a nice girl and be happy with her. He really had no explanation for it. Except that he had always been different, so he was probably different in love, too.

He had to accept that and had decided that love relationships probably just weren't his thing.

But everyone had needs, of course, and so did he. And because he didn't want to feel bad about it, one day he developed a chocolate all for himself that could satisfy these needs. He took all the ingredients he thought would work - traveling around the world he had found all kind of unusual fruits and plants - and formed them into a round purple chocolate ball in his small laboratory in the factory.

With this chocolate, he would lie down comfortably in the evening between his cotton candy clouds, gently push the ball between his lips and let it slowly melt in his mouth...

The chocolate became soft, spread velvety on his tongue, while the sweet taste of love and lust unfolded and began to flow through his body. The individual particles of chocolate dispersed in every cell... It tickled, his body began to tingle, his eyelids fluttered, he felt hands, he felt lips, he felt hot breath on his skin. His whole body was electrified by these sensations, so that Willy soon began to gasp and pant until he finally reared up --- and whoosh, like an incredible flash of icing - even though Willy unfortunately had already realized early in his teenage years that it didn't taste like icing - it shot through his body, through his lap and out of his body.

"Aaah!" his lustful moans echoed through the factory and Willy was far too blissful to be shocked about that.

Exhausted, he let his body fall back into the clouds and smiled happily.

He had found a solution to his problem. And it was wonderful.

He snuggled into the cloud, content and exhausted, his whole body still tingling slightly, as if he could still feel the caresses on his skin, the gentle kisses...

WAIT!!! WHAT?

His smile evaporated instantly and he straightened up in irritation, his eyes wide... hadn't he felt stubble on his skin, too?

He frowned.

But then something clicked in his brain, which it often did when something was bothering him, something was released that felt like liquid brain chocolate and covered everything which could be called anxiety with a soothing comfort and just like that the unsettling feeling was gone.

The stubble had probably just been a coincidence. Perhaps he simply needed to change something in his recipe. After all, the most important thing was that he had found the solution to his problem. Everything else would work itself out.

But as it was with problems, as soon as you solved one, the next one popped up.

Though it didn't look like a problem at first. Or rather, it looked far too attractive for one.

Shortly after his first attempt with the chocolate, a man came into his store, a young father with his two children to be precise. He was tall and handsome, his clothes were not expensive but not ragged either, from the rims under his eyes he seemed to work a lot or sleep badly, but that didn't seem to stop him from being affectionate towards his children and devoting all his attention to them.

Willy watched him furtively out of the corner of his eye. There was nothing wrong with looking at a good-looking man. Beauty was universal for Willy. There were so many beautiful things in the world, lying in a meadow of flowers in spring, feeling the snout of a giraffe in the palm of his hand, the breeze tickling your nose from snowy roofs. Of course, women could also be beautiful, so why not a man, this man?

With every step this man took through the store with his children, he was beaming more with joy. And if Willy was honest, it always made Willy particularly proud when he could bring out this childlike joy in adults.

When the man with those shining eyes then paid for the two big bags of sweets that his children had filled to the brim, and Willy thanked him for his purchase with a "Thank you, sir!", Willy's heart warmed even more when the man added in a very melt-in-the-mouth dark chocolate voice, "Thank you, for making this day a fairly lovely day."

Of course, there was nothing wrong with this encounter, but when Willy went back to his special purple chocolate balls in the evening and wanted to enjoy them between his clouds, this time after the chocolate had melted in his mouth again and he had felt all sorts of wonderful things, just before he exploded, he had the feeling that those same shining eyes were suddenly looking at him and whispering something to him. In this very melt-in-your-mouth dark chocolate voice.

"Aaahh!!!"

It hadn't stopped him from filling the halls with his loud moans again, in fact, if he was honest, he felt like it was even stronger this time and had almost shaken the cotton candy around him from it, but of course this couldn't go on like this. First the stubble and now this... !

He would have to change the recipe again.

Two days later, the man was back with his children.

"They fell in love with this store," he said, as if to apologize, and something in Willy's body vibrated again at the sonorous voice, so that he forgot to answer for a second.

"I'm glad they did," he finally managed to say, smiling a little nervously, because those shining eyes reminded him of the night he had splashed a lot of icing on that sight.

That evening, he decided to leave his chocolate balls alone for the time being. He didn't want anything else to go wrong. Besides, there were more important things to do: Christmas time was just around the corner and what could be more satisfying than sweetening Christmas for everyone from young to old?

He invented little snowmen covered in powdered sugar, he invented little gingerbread houses that tasted like a cozy evening in front of the fireplace, and he invented little reindeer cookies that blew the cold wind of a snowy landscape around your nose.

On the first of December, the father and his two children came back to the store.

"I've decided that they can choose a little chocolate every day until Christmas. They deserve some little joy every day."

Willy felt a lot of emotions when he heard that. It was a real whirlwind. First of all, why hadn't he come up with this fantastic idea? Every child should be able to sweeten their time until Christmas with a small piece of chocolate every day. Secondly, his heart skipped a beat at the thought that the man would now come into his store every day, and he didn't really want that at all. Or maybe he did? And thirdly, his heart became very sad because he was beginning to wonder where the mother of these children was and the sad look on the face of the lovely man who wanted to be so brave when he said those words gave him a lot of clues.

But Willy now had 24 days ahead of him where he would see this man, so perhaps some things could be found out.

And so it was.

Every time the man came into the store, Willy dropped everything, shot up to the two children, whose names were Max and Thea, by the way, and who were sweet as sugar, had them open a little box with a small chocolate, and while the children played in the store, Willy sat down with the man for a few minutes in a little sofa corner made of rainbow liquorice, slipped him a piece of his favorite chocolate, put his head in his hands and listened to him attentively.

The lovely man's name was Arthur and at the very back, in the most convoluted corner of his brain, Willy thought of the sound he had made when he was lying in his cotton candy cloud and the purple ball had brought him to climax, and that it had almost sounded like that name.

Arthur worked in a newspaper factory and the mother of his children – as Willy had feared - sadly already died, Willy's heart sank when he heard this, she had left them in the spring and this would be the first Christmas without their mother. Despite the amount of work Arthur had, he wanted to be there for his children as much as he could. Fortunately, he still had the grandparents to look after them, but it wasn't easy.

Willy took his word for it and he made a mental note to himself that he absolutely had to invent something for these children so that they would have a nice Christmas despite everything.

Willy really liked Arthur. Arthur was not only very likeable, but also very educated and, above all, very funny. His sadness just didn't really allow it yet, Willy could tell. In any way, as well as they got on, Willy was sure that they would become really good friends.

And so the few minutes of conversation soon turned into half an hour a day, during which the children played in the store and Arthur and he had time to talk about everything. Because Arthur was also very curious to find out everything about Willy and Willy liked the way Arthur looked at him when he told him something from his life. It left a feeling of sugar coated fireworks exploding in him.

Every day Willy could hardly wait to see Arthur again and it made him want to jump with joy to see that Arthur's disposition was getting a little better every day. And though the circles around his eyes didn't get any smaller, his smile widened unmistakably.

But then one day the children came into the store without him and with their grandparents instead.

"Is everything okay?" Willy asked worriedly.

"Yes, yes, he just needs some rest," replied the grandmother, somewhat sternly but kindly. "Working every day, then the children... Every day they come here to the store. Sometimes he just takes on too much. We'll take over the visits from now on."

Willy nodded sadly and felt a little bad at the same time. He shouldn't have extended their conversation like that. Maybe Arthur had just been friendly and hadn't wanted to offend him.

Something in Willy's heart suddenly hurt a lot. Of course he wanted Arthur to rest... but did that mean he would maybe never see him again?

Lost in thought, he handed the children their daily chocolate. He had been so looking forward to showing Arthur his latest creation. But maybe Arthur needed something else this time...

"Wait a minute, please..."

Willy quickly ran into his study. This time he wanted to give Arthur a chocolate to cheer him up and give him energy. He opened the drawer in which he kept his latest creations, pulled out the cheering-up-energy-chocolate, slipped it into a small bag, hurried back to the children and grandparents and handed them the bag.

"Please give this to Arthur with my best wishes."

"Today's chocolate was extra delicious, Willy, thank you very much!" beamed Thea at him and tugged at his coat. And Max said, "No, it was extra, extra delicious today."

Willy laughed delightedly. He had become really fond of Arthur's children by now.

Fondly he waved goodbye to them.

He waved and waved until they were out of sight, and Arthur got lost in thoughts again. He was thinking of Arthur. He thought of Arthur, how he would hopefully feel better again after eating the chocolate. Thought of Arthur eating that chocolate. Biting into it. Biting into the purple chocolate ball..

Willy's smile froze.

What? Wait?? Purple?

Oh, no, that couldn't be true!

He didn't have....!

He ran into his study, hastily pulled open the drawer and there he saw it: he had given the grandparents the wrong chocolate! He had given them the purple ball instead of the pink one! The pink one was still in the drawer!

That couldn't be true!

Oh no, oh no!

He looked out of the window but the children and grandparents were long gone.

Willy sank into his chair in despair. He would die of shame! How could this have happened to him? He felt like crying. He didn't want to lose Arthur as a friend! What would he think of him now? Why did that have to happen?

Frustrated, he lay down on the cot in his study, put his arms around his legs, and didn't show his face in the store all day, even after Noodle's request.

The next day, he still didn't want to get up, his mind still thinking the most terrible thoughts it could think of.

In the afternoon Noodle told him that Max and Thea had asked about him and were very sad that he hadn't been there. But Willy really couldn't face them after what he had done to their father!

"What happened, Willy?"

Noodle was really worried now, and he didn't want her to be. "I did something bad." He really couldn't explain it any further. "Don't you sometimes wish you were different, so you'd be less different from everyone else?"

Noodle thought about it, then shook her head. "Since I met you, not really, no." She sat down next to him on the cot and hugged him. "You're the epitome of how being different can be something magical, something beautiful, something endearing. I don't want you to think that's bad."

Willy looked at Noodle. He wished she was right. He thought of all the beautiful things they had experienced. Of all the people they made happy.

And then something clicked in his brain, because whenever something made him too sad for too long, there was a little explosion of chocolate bits in his brain, like a wake-up call that told him: he couldn't just lie here and mope around forever, he had to do something!

"I'm going to invent a new chocolate, Noodle. There are so many children at Christmas without parents, I want them all to feel loved, to remember this love without being sad. With a tear in their eye, but with joy in their heart, you know?"

Noodle hugged Willy and gave him a big squeeze. "Do that, Willy. I couldn't wish for anything more beautiful for Christmas."

So Willy sat down at his little chocolate inventing machine and started experimenting. If he had already messed things up with their father, then at least he wanted to do something really good for the children.

The store had long since closed when Willy was still experimenting. He somehow didn't succeed. Something was still missing. Exhausted and tired, he looked at the bubbling tubes when he suddenly heard a knock on the door downstairs in the store.

He went down to check.

Arthur was standing in front of the door.

Willy's heart sank, so afraid was he of this encounter, but he opened the door carefully nonetheless.

Arthur took off his snow-covered cap and smiled at him lovingly. "I'm sorry to show up here like this... but I... I still saw light…. "

Willy was very glad that Arthur didn't seem to be mad at him, he was adorable as ever. He looked happy. A little nervous, but happier than he had ever seen him before.

Willy hoped that it meant, he hadn't even tried the chocolate.

"Yes, I'm still experimenting a bit. When something doesn't work, something is missing, I sometimes can't stop."

Arthur smiled at him curiously. "Can I watch?"

Willy turned dark red.

He didn't know why. It wasn't anything illegal what he was doing. But somehow Arthur's question felt so intimate.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." Arthur was now uncomfortable, too.

Willy tried to pull himself together, his concerns about whatever were ridiculous. "No, no, of course you can ... watch. Come in."

Willy closed the door behind Arthur and went up the stairs, Arthur following him.

"Thanks for your chocolate, by the way..."

Willy's eyes widened and he quickened his pace. He didn't want to hear anything about that but Arthur unfortunately kept talking.

"I don't know if it was the chocolate and just the fact that you had it brought to me..."

Willy went hot and cold, his steps quickening even more.

"But ... when I ate the chocolate, I thought…”

Oh, no, this couldn’t be happening!

“- of you."

Just at that moment, Willy pushed open the door to his study and said a little too loudly and nervously, "Here we are!"

Arthur stepped in and looked around in astonishment. “Wow, this is... amazing!”

Here in Willy’s study were the most colorful vials and ingredients up to the ceiling. And although it was a laboratory, it didn't look like a laboratory, but had the charm of a cozy witch's cottage.

Once Arthur had got over the initial amazement, Willy pointed to a chair on the wall. "You can take that... And sit next to me, if you want."

But when Arthur sat down right behind him, Willy thought that he would have preferred Arthur to sit against the wall.

It was kind of nice to have him so close, but it also made Willy so incredibly nervous.

He tried to concentrate, looked at the vials… and got lost in time and space.

... and I thought of you.

What was he going to do again?

"What's missing?" he heard Arthur's soft voice say next to him.

"Huh?" Willy turned to him and looked into the most incredibly gentle eyes.

"You said, something was still missing?"

For a small second Willy closed his eyes, he didn’t want to get so lost in those eyes, in that man. He opened his eyes again and looked fixedly at the vials.

"Well, ... the joy is there," Willy said almost absently, "the sadness is there... but... "

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Arthur slowly raise his hand. The next second Willy could feel Arthur’s thumb on the back of his neck, gently stroking the area at his hairline.

"Maybe love is missing," Arthur whispered softly and Willy immediately began to tremble.

This couldn't be right! This wasn't right! What was Arthur doing? But instead of stopping, Arthur just kept stroking him, speaking to him in that soft, loving voice.

"Shh, it's okay, Willy.”

Nothing was okay! He wasn't okay, and apparently neither was Arthur!

Arthur’s hand was now stroking his cheek. Willy felt bad, really bad.

"I'm so sorry I jinxed yo too, now, with that chocolate,” he stuttered. “I swapped them by mistake. I didn't mean to. I'm so sorry..."

Arthur took now both hands and hold Willy’s face, his look almost sternly but his voice still soft. "Stop, Willy, stop."

Willy bit his lower lip and tried not to say anything, just looked into Arthur's eyes that were so gently looking at him and made him feel things he had never felt before.

"My father died young, when I was still very small,” Arthur said. “My mother brought me up with her friend Maria. They were happy together, really happy. And I had the two most wonderful mothers one could wish for. My mother told me, ´If you someday realise you are like me, don’t tell anyone. But if you find the right one, show him your feelings. Don't let the chance pass.´”

Willy’s heart hammered while he tried to process these words.

“Every day we would stop at the window of your store for awhile." Arthur continued softly. "And while the children looked at the display in the window, I would secretly watch you. Your kind nature, your pure, shy smiles. It was only two days, Willy, but I missed you so much. And when I ate the chocolate, I felt you, Willy."

Willy’s mind got dizzy.

He really wanted to believe Arthur, really, but...

Arthur ran his fingers through Willy’s hair and it felt so good, but...

Arthur's lips approached his. He wanted to kiss them so badly, but...

Arthur smelled so good too, he wanted to put his nose in his hair but...

"Can I kiss you?" whispered Arthur softly.

"Okay," Willy replied in a daze, "but -"

But by then, Arthur had already placed his lips on Willy's and it was such a beautiful feeling that Willy's concerns all flew off in a whoosh. Something like this could not be wrong.

His whole body exploded with joy as he finally let all his feelings run free. He hungrily kissed Arthur back, he felt Arthur, Arthur was so beautiful, so lovable, he wanted to crawl into him, he felt so good with him, he was on the sweetest cloud ever.

And speaking of clouds, soon Willy pulled Arthur by the hand into the factory, pulled a few levers so that his cotton candy clouds floated down and pulled Arthur onto one. All his doubts were dissolved, he tugged at Arthur's clothes as much as Arthur tugged at his. He wanted to feel everything, kiss everything.

Only when Arthur crawled down to his lap and suddenly did things that no one had ever done for Willy before, Willy's excitement was mixed with a little nervousness. "You don't... You don't have to..." he gasped, while Arthur lay between his legs, ignored his words and continued, making Willy gasp even more. Willy tried again. "It doesn't taste like..." Oh my god, he didn't know what to do, it all felt so good, he was floating without floating chocolate, but..., but... "It doesn't taste like..." and then it shot out of him, he couldn't help it, "... icing!" he gasped desperately, but by then it had already happened and it was too late.

Before Willy could even think straight again, Arthur had crawled up to him and smiled lovingly at him. "I know. But if you love the person you get it from, believe me, it's as good."

Willy looked at Arthur completely mesmerized, still a little incredulous but deeply relieved.

"Ok, I might try that, too, then?" he said with a smirk, still out of breath, his curiosity slowly taking over.

But when he was about to lean down, Arthur stopped him and looked at him, slightly embarrassed. "Uhm, I’ve already… uhm, the cotton candy was so soft... then the sight of you... it all felt so good, you looked so beautiful. …” He sighed. “I'm afraid my icing might have landed already on your candy floss. I'm so sorry that I have stained it."

Willy chuckled. "Don’t worry. Have you tried the candy floss though? It tastes like cherry mint."

He plucked off a bit of the absorbent cotton and held it out to Arthur. But instead of taking it with his fingers, Arthur grabbed Willy's wrist and tasted the cotton candy right off his fingers, licking them clean.

It made Willy feel all kinds of feelings. It triggered every imaginable fantasy in him, he had a thousand ideas of all the things he wanted to try with Arthur and he was sure that one would be more beautiful than the other.

He cuddled up to Arthur.

"All of this is ... awesome!"

Arthur pressed a gentle kiss to his lips and Willy tasted the cherry mint. "Yes, it is, I agree."

"Will you stay with me?"

"As long as you want."

The days until Christmas flew by like a dream.

Willy added the missing ingredient of love to the Christmas chocolate and it turned out exactly as he had hoped. On Christmas Day, they distributed them to all the orphanages in the city and gave them to anyone else who wanted and needed them.

In the evening, they had a wonderful, big Christmas feast. Everyone was there, Noodle, Noodle's mother, Lofty, Albacus, Lottie, Piper, Larry, all with family and friends, and of course Arthur with his children.

They ate festively, laughed, sang and danced, it was a magically wonderful night.

When all the friends had happily and contentedly made their way home and Thea and Max were put to bed in their newly built beds of soft marshmallow, Willy and Arthur made themselves once more comfortable on the cotton candy clouds.

Arthur took Willy's hands in his and caressed them.

"I didn't think I'd have such a magical Christmas, I couldn't be happier. Thank you, Willy."

Willy's nose crinkled automatically at these words, he smiled happily, leaned over and kissed Arthur. He was surely the happiest man in the whole world.

"I couldn't be happier either."

If it weren't for the tingling sensation.

And all these endless possibilities of things that were running through Willy's head.

"But?"

"Huh?" Willy couldn't even concentrate on whether Arthur meant ‘but’ or ‘butt’, he was tingling so much.

"You look like there is a ‘but’ to your sentence."

"Nooo, there's not a `but´ to my sentence,” and added quietly more to himself, “at most a ‘butt’.”

Arthur looked at him questioningly.

“There are just so many things I'd like to try out with you,” Willy admitted a little embarrassed but added hopefully, “Would you be up for it?"

"Sure, always. What is it?"

"For example…” Willy took a deep breath, squinting his eyes. “I'd love to bathe in liquid chocolate with you, would you like that?"

He was more than relieved to see Arthur smiling at him curiously. "That sounds delicious. I would love to try that."

The way Arthur had answered, though, Willy knew Arthur didn't understand when Willy wanted to try it, that he didn't want to wait any longer, so he simply held out his hand and started singing softly,

"Come... with... me…”

And Arthur took his hand and let Willy guide him.

*** Merry Christmas ***

#wonka 2023 #wonka movie #wonka fanfic #Wonka x OC #Wonka x male OC #timothée chalamet #Christmas fluff #plus some icing and chocolate balls #timothee chalamet #wonka fanfiction #willy wonka fanfiction

60 notes · View notes

chainmailchalamet · 1 year

Text

DRAG ME UNDER, BURY ME DEEP

tags: black gender-neutral reader + timothee chalamet, dom/sub dynamics, degradation, discussions of impact play, spitting, knife play, safe + sane + consensual, predator/prey dynamics, set in a professional BDSM space

—————

He doesn’t look like much, and you feel kind of bad for thinking it but — he just surprises you, is all. Maybe it's just your bias, that you assume there must be a look to the kind of person who wants to do to you what you want done. Someone a little rough, big and scruff and a little nasty — face-tats and a thick neck and big hands. A daddy type, a bear, a deviant at first glance.

This guy is…not that. Taller than you, sure, and so good-looking it makes you blush a little, but he’s just so…soft. Pretty. Bashful little tilt to his pretty head, pretty hair falling into his face in soft little curls. Shyish smile, cupids-bowed pulled back to tease a little dimple in the corner. Nice hands, well-groomed and long and lean — powder blue polish on the nails, no scars or tattoos to rough it all up. He’s got a black sweater on, fit so nice to his frame — nice broadish shoulders, elegant neck, just the slightest hint of a bulge in his bicep. He looks strong the way a swimmer would be, or a dancer.

He doesn’t look like the type to pluck you up by the neck, crowd those nice well-groomed fingers into their mouth and tell you to speak up if you want something, to laugh at you while you try to speak around the intrusion, to smear your own spit back into your skin and sneer “what a fucking mess, huh? why don’t you say sorry, like you mean it…”

“You, uh…” you pause, choose your next words carefully. “You’re different than I thought you would be…”

If he’s at all offended by this statement, he doesn’t show it, just breathes this quiet amused sound to himself — his cheeks even pink up a little, as he swipes his hair back from his face.

“Mm, yeah, I guess that makes sense, I’m not exactly…” he looks up and away like he’s searching for the right word, mouth curling into this wry little smile that is so boy-scout-prince-charming-boyfriend-coded that you kind of want to shake him a little, or kiss him a little. “I get it! If you wanna follow me back to the front desk I can —“

Fuck, that’s not — “No, no, I’m just…I just don’t want you to get into something you didn’t sign up for, you know?”

He pauses with your paperwork in his hands, eyebrows furrowed a little, but he’s still got this smile on his face, this ever-amused, almost permissive look to him. “Hm,” he hums, holding your eyes for a moment that stretches like honey, just long enough that you start to shift a little on your feet — and then he flips through the papers like he’s looking through them for the first time, makes a show of scanning through every line, muttering to himself like he’s reading them to himself, like he’s just so thorough.

And then you get it — that slow curl low in your gut as you realize that this is all an act — that this faunish, sheepish looking bambi motherfucker is fucking with you. That you’ve fallen for it, and (the fear curls warm and sharp in your gut, and then turns itself inside out until it feels like something sweeter than fear) that you’ve no idea what it even is.

“Hm, let me see…” he flicks his eyes up, and it’s like he’s checking for something, and once he’s found it in you he just shifts. Holds himself a little looser, let’s his gaze pierce you deep, let’s his smile get a little mean, swipes his tongue across his teeth like he’s coaxing his fangs out. “So you didn’t want to get slapped across the face, then?”

You shiver. When you answer, your voice has gone all coarse, like you’re not used to using it. “I don’t…” you cringe, clear your throat, try again. “I don’t understand what…”

He nods, feigning understanding. “Mm, I’m sure you don’t…you need a second, honey?”

Honey. “I…”

“You must not have asked to get choked out, tied up, spanked and — you specifically asked for someone to spit in your mouth and call you a pretty little slut, isn’t that sweet — but I mean, it’s not like you filled this out, right?” He continues, making his eyes all big. You get the sense that he’s mimicking you, and it makes you wanna look at the ground because you don’t trust your eyes not to water a little. He’s so fucking mean (he’s so fucking perfect). “Do you need me to explain how this place works?”

You mumble something and he tuts, shakes his head. “Wanna try that again for me?”

It doesn’t feel like he’s asking, not really. It makes you feel small, stupid — makes you petulant. “I know how it works, I just…”

“You just what?” he simpers. He puts the papers down on the desk in the corner of the playroom, stands to lean against the wall of floggers and paddles and — fuck — crosses his arms, fixes you with a look that could rot iron. “You thought you’d fill out all that long, boring paperwork and you’d get paired up with just anyone? Do you think you’re just so uniquely filthy that no one would be able to keep up?”

Fuck. He’s so mean. You might be tearing up a little — you can feel it curling up in your chest, humiliation warming up your nose and pricking at your eyes. “I didn’t fucking—“

“Oh, look at the fucking mouth on you!” he giggles a little, but not like he thinks you’re funny — more like he thinks you’re so so dumb, just supremely stupid. “That’s cute, that’s just fucking precious…”

“I’m so sorry if I’m a little surprised that someone like you…” you spit the you at him, send it at him like a weapon, stand your ground and show him your teeth — reckless with frustration. “…would have the fucking guts to do any of that shit! It’s not my fault that you’re built like a fucking Disney princess.”

Perhaps a step too far, if the way he studies you is any indication. He’s gone all straight faced, and the contrast between his cherubic face and his dead-eyed gaze puts you on edge. Within his arm’s reach, there is an array of tools that could break you down to nothing with just one strike. He looks so out of place in a room like this, with a Saint John’s cross and a bed laid in all black with all the fittings — so many different spots to be strapped down. You don’t have to look up to know that if he wanted to, he could string you up from the ceiling like a chandelier. You’d even marked your interest down for that in your paperwork, so he already knows.

The appeal of this dungeon is the placement program — their success rate in people up with the perfect partner, with vetted professionals that specialize in knowing exactly what you want and how to give it to you. You should have known from the second he walked in that he was the perfect sadist for your masochistic tendencies — that he would slap you in the face and spit in your mouth, that he would strap you down and simper degrading little things in your ears, that he was going to torture you until you tapped out (and he probably also knew that aside from a couple hard-limits, it would take a lot to get you to tap, that you wanted to be pushed and prodded and batted around until you cried or passed out).

“Disney princess, huh?” He’s dropped the act completely now, and the mean curl to his mouth is so dissonant with the look of him — it just throws you off. In a way, it’s so much more exciting and terrifying the way he steps into this new skin, the way he wears his dominance. You imagine him with his hands around your throat, distaste marring his pretty face, and it’s so hot you get a little light-headed.

You think that maybe you should apologize, and then he widens his eyes (all big and innocent, he’s so sick) says “I’m gonna give you ten seconds to say sorry, ok?”

You clear your throat. “…or what?”

“I don’t know…” he grimaces, like it just pains him to do this to you (oh, he’s nasty). “I’d rather you didn’t make me punish you — there’s some really fucked up shit on your sheet, you know?”

You feel like the ten seconds has already started — he’s setting you up. He’s running his eyes over all the toys displayed against the wall, but you know he’s already got something in mind.

“I’m sorry?” You say, like you’re not sure.

“Mm..” he hums. “Little too late for that.”

He pushes off the wall, digs in the pocket of his worn-in looking Levi’s. Pulls out a little pocket-knife. “Don’t move, OK? I’d rather not make you bleed if I don’t have to.”

You freeze — there’s only one door out of the room, nowhere’s to run, nowhere to hide. It’s like he reads your mind, the way he steps towards you like he’s trying not to startle you, like he’s hunting. “I’m sorry…”

“Shhh, it’s ok, sweetheart — just gonna hurt you a little…” he says, slow and sweet like he’s got honey under his tongue. “Just gonna make you cry your pretty little eyes out…”

#timothee x reader #timothée x reader #timothée chalamet imagine #timothee smut #timothée chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet smut #timothee chalamet blurb #black oc #Timothée Chalamet x black y/n #eat up lol

204 notes · View notes