There’s faint music playing in the background. We know about nostalgia/ Enough to keep in its place. You try to decipher what it is. Is it Destruction Unit?, you wonder. Or perhaps some Rabelais? But how can you hear both Destruction Unit and Rebelais, one thing is not like the other. Hmm, Black Marble would be so nice right now though, or perhaps some Drab Majesty. Simultaneous thoughts keep popping into your head as you struggle to remain sober, well no not sober, you’re way past that now but at least pull yourself together so the next second you’re not climbing walls, but who are you kidding? You’re fucking shitfaced, inside the bathroom at the Hammer’s residence no less. “Don’t make a fucking scene, Y/N. And please, easy on the liquor, remember what happened last time.” Timo had said to you before heading out. Last time you got drunk it was at his grandma’s house. She had made dinner and had invited the both of you. That old lady could fucking drink! First it was the whisky, then some bourbon, follow by some gin. At the end you were so out of it, Timo had to carried you all the way home, fucking heated, cursing all the way. “ What the fuck is wrong with you?! If you can’t handle your liquor why the fuck you kept drinking in the first place? Now look at you.” You had apologize profusely and he had told you to remain silent. Today, was different. It was his night, and he didn’t want any fuck ups. And you wanted to make him happy, so what could possibly go wrong?
Armie and Elizabeth had decided to throw an Oscar’s after party, at their home, regardless of who would’ve won or lose. It was a small crowd really, apart from the Hammers, Luca was here, as well as James, Nicole, Pauline, André, Marc, Timothée and myself. So it was a very intimate gathering, and honestly so full of love. We were all celebrating the movie, how wonderful it was for them to have found each other and being able to produce something so beautiful as CMBYN. The win for Ivory, and all the other nominations for all of them. Tim’s win at the Spirit Awards, the shirtless face timing with Armie, his speech and that goddamn shirt. Things you’ve heard a million times before, but still were able to strike a chord in you, in a beautiful way. And you got along splendidly with the Chalamets. Nicole and Marc were extremely sweet and polite, telling you stories on how Tim, one time as a toddler, started running naked down the streets of Le Chambon-sur-Lignon back in France and how Pauline had follow suit and it ended up being a mess. Ultimately a beautiful memory of their summers spent there. At some point of the night, Pauline had pull you aside and had told you, almost in a whisper: “We love you so much and you make my brother so happy. I couldn’t ask for a better sister in-law.” Then she pulled you into a hug, knocking the air out of you a bit, but you had welcomed it and it was genuine.
Right now though, you were hiding. You had seen the look on his face when you laughed out loud, perhaps too loud, about a joke his dad had said, regarding that one time he had been an obnoxious little shit when he didn’t get that A+ he expected when making that infamous “Statistics” video. You knew he died of embarrassment each time it was mentioned, so for him to see you laughing about it, and therefore AT him, it was a problem. Everybody had laughed , him included, but he was looking at you now, madden. Eyes scolding you, in judgement. “Because is you.”, he had said once. “ Don’t you dare judge me, I won’t allow it.”. The words resonating like an echo in your head, so you had excused yourself, and had left to go the bathroom, or anywhere for that matter. Away from him. You were wasted, in a good mood, really, slightly lightheaded and definitely not looking for a fight, but you knew better. He would always come a knocking. Always.
Of all the rooms in the house, you chose the one on the second floor, located on the far left, down the hall. It was, to say the least, one of the most interesting rooms in the house. Once you enter you see that it’s a bathroom and when you look at it you’ve realized where you ended up. This bathroom had a name: Le Mirage, they have called it. Only they would name a fucking bathroom. Elizabeth had said that Armie pretty much made it to his own liking. A huge window overlooking the backyard, and holy fucking shit a bunch of mirrors. EVERYWHERE. On the walls, on the ceiling, even inside the shower. You’ve never actually seen it, and honestly, in your drunken stupor you hadn’t realize where you were heading. You just happen to stumble into it. “What can I say, I like to look.”, Armie had said once at dinner, winking at Elizabeth. She had laughed…now you get it. Seeing yourself in ten different mirrors at the same time, from different angles, made you feel in the middle of a fucking Fun House. Suddenly, you stop and really look at yourself. You’re wearing a short black dress. Strappy, not flashy but tight. It accentuates every curve of your body nicely. Paired with black stockings and your black Doc Martens’. Tim knows you’re not a big fan of heels, and he’s ok with that. You turn around, and look at your back, which is exposed right now thanks to the dress, you look at your legs, your shoulders, your arms, really looking at yourself and you’re just…happy. Really happy to be here, and having this moment with yourself, being in this room, in this place. Intoxication taking a hold of you, making you shameless and content. The music plays in the background and is something you recognize immediately; Bad Love by White Lies. You smile. Did Timo put this? So you start to sway and dance to the music while looking at yourself in the mirror. Bet it was Armie. You’re so into the moment you don’t even realize the sound of footsteps down the hall, growing closer each passing minute.
I was waiting in the back-seat of the car
When I knew I’d given up
Down one of the back-streets by the park
So sick of the taste of blood
If I’m guilty of anything
It’s loving you too much
Honey, sometimes love
Means getting a little rough
This is not bad love
You don’t hear when the door clicks open nor when it closes or the person who enters through it. With eyes closed you keep singing and swaying to the music. The room is dark, illuminated only by a dim blueish light that changes color every three seconds, located somewhere in the room, you don’t even know where, don’t care either. Your dancing figure looks like a shadowed spectrum around the room; a vision, really.
And I won’t ask your God for mercy
My spirit is low, my soul is dirty
If I’m guilty of anything
It’s loving you too much
Honey, sometimes love
Means getting a little rough
This is not bad love
This is not bad love
When you open your eyes, you notice a figure standing behind you and as you open your mouth to scream, unable to make out who or what it is a hand goes flying towards your mouth covering it completely, blocking any sound coming out of it and another one on your waist, pushing you against them and towards the sink, holding you steady and in place. “Shhh, quiet, is me.” Timmy. Your eyes open in surprise, then a calmness washes over you, follow by a slight panic wondering how long he’s been standing there watching you. His hand uncovers your mouth, but he doesn’t move from you, if anything he pushes himself forward, more into you, putting both his hands on either side of you, like a trap. You look at each other in mirror. He seems…amused. Is he? Is he angry? The truth is, the second you left he had excused himself 5 minutes later and had followed you. Luca had stop him for a brief second along the way, making a joke about that time in Crema he fell off his bike and Armie had recorded the entire thing. They laughed and he had said to Luca. “ I’m so sorry Luca, but I really need to go the bathroom. Would you excuse me, for a minute?’-“Si! Si! I’ll see you in a few.” So when he went back to look for you, you were nowhere to be found. And this was a big fucking house, where the fuck could you’ve gone? Bad Love had came up, a request for you he had made at the very beginning of the party, a surprise. He did saw you going upstairs, so up he went. Suddenly a faint singing is heard from one of the rooms. A smirk. Found you.
He was not expecting you to be in this room, he was not expecting you to be singing and dancing and looking the way you were the moment he laid eyes on you. You were swaying, slowly, very slowly, to the rhythm of the music. He had managed to take a spot on the wall behind you, unnoticed. Watching your every move. You were emphasizing each word being said, by a sudden movement of your hands, or your hips, your hair. At one point you had put your hands on your breasts, trailing them down slowly over your stomach, almost between your legs. “Fuck”, he had mumbled under his breath. His eyes fixated on you. In the middle of your dancing your skirt had rode up a bit, giving him a view. You hadn’t even noticed. He was hard as a rock, and he wanted you. He wanted you now.
Now he was behind you, pushing your ass impossibly closer to him. He was so hard, oh god. Both hands on either side of you. Each movement, making your skirt ride up just a tiny bit more. Your breathing changes and a small moan threatens to escape your lips, but you hold back. He puts his mouth next to your ear and says , “You know, watching you earlier, dancing like that, made me wonder of who were you thinking about the whole time. Because I know what I was thinking about.” He tells you in the mirror. You start blushing. He manages to make you blush, why why? Goddamn him. And he notices, even in this poorly lit room. “Are we blushing?” You shake your head: No. “No?” His eyes are dark pools right about now. There’s a slight change in his voice, thicker, lower. You know what’s gonna happen next. You crave it. Like a drug.
You’re so wet, too. And his dick grinding against your ass behind you is not helping one bit. Suddenly he pulls the bottom of your dress up, finally exposing your ass through the stockings. He starts caressing it as if its the most delicate thing in this world, only to be followed by a loud and hard slap on your right cheek. Even with the fabric from the stockings in between, it stings like hell. You let out a loud gasp and your hands grab his in an attempt to stop him or to not stop him? You don’t even know what you’re doing. He pushes them away, pulling down your stockings in one swift move, ripping them in the process. You cry in frustration. “ Timothée! They were expensive!”
“J'en ai rien à cirer" [I don’t give a fuck], he says. He slaps your ass again. “Fuck!” you cry out. You look at him, his eyes focused on what he’s doing and your reactions in the mirror. Smirking and biting his lips while doing so. What a bastard. Each time you get hit, your breasts threaten to slip out your dress, so he pulls down your dress, entirely, leaving it to rest rest comically in a corner of the room. Now your breasts are exposed and he immediately takes one in his mouth. Sucking and licking hard, while slapping your ass at the same time. You’re so fucking wet and you’re overwhelmed, but you can’t move, and it hurts and Oh God.
Everytime you complain about the pain, it makes him harder. He gives the same attention to your other breast. You arch your back, granting him more access to them. He lifts up, finding your mouth and kisses you. Hungry, desperately. His tongue inside you, possessive. He slaps your ass again, and again, and again. And you moan in pain, (a smack) and you moan in pleasure, (again) in frustration, (again) and you’re teary eyed. Bruises are starting to form. You try again to move his hands away, but he pulls both your arms behind your back with anger, keeping them there in some sort of lock, preventing you from moving. He positions himself behind you, grabbing you by the waist and pressing you against him hard. It fucking hurts, your ass bruised from the previous assault. He stops the punishment for moment, his hand warm and red from the smacking, finding your core. You couldn’t be more wet, you’re dripping, is almost embarrassing. “Putain.” [Fuck] he says. He starts rubbing your clit, immediately setting a pace. His hot breath on your ear, his hair a tangled mess, his sweat and yours combined. “Do you have any idea how much I want to fuck you right now?” he tells you, voice heavy with arousal. You’re about ready to cum, but he stops and turns you around roughly. Leaving you out of breath. “No, you don’t get to cum. Not yet.” He takes a step a back, orders you to move forwards, and when you do, he looks at you with such pride. Smiling the entire time. No doubt proud about the marks he has left on your body. “Mine. All Mine.” He says to himself, more than anything. You feel very exposed, and for some reason bring your hands up to your breasts to cover them. He realizes what you’re doing and pushes them away. Then steps right in front of you, bringing his face close to yours. He sticks his tongue out and licks your lips, and then grabs you by the neck. “ Let’s see what you’re good for. Get on your fucking knees.” He literally shoves you on to the floor. You grab hold of the sink to keep you from falling. He stands right in front of you, tall as ever. Quite intimidating, really. You feel so small next to him, but you live for this.
He then starts to rub his crotch all over your face, demanding your eyes on him. Grabbing your face with both hands, forcing you too look up. When you do, you see the reflection in the mirror above , of him having you cornered, on your knees and him rubbing himself all over you. You get even wetter. “ You want it?” he asks you. Signaling with his eyes the growing bulge in his pants. No doubt in pain, for all this time without the proper friction it deserves. You nod, frantically. “Use your words.” he says, as he starts to unbuckle his pants. The sound of his belt triggers something in you, something primal and you really can’t wait any longer. “ Yes, yes, I want it, please let me have it.” He grins. “Such a good girl. Open your mouth. Tongue out.” He finally takes off his pants, freeing his throbbing cock in the process and you can’t help but moan and the mere sight. The first time you laid eyes on it, you were more that surprised. You knew it would be big, but the thickness had surprised you. It was big and thick and it hurt a lot at times, but fuck, it felt amazing. He starts teasing you, slipping the head of his cock in your mouth a bit, not giving you a chance to close your mouth on it, and then taking it out. You bring your hands up but he pushes them away. “No. Keep your fucking hands where they are. I just want your mouth right now and you will give it to me.” You nod. Without warning, he pushes his entire length inside your mouth, making you gag.
He lets out a loud moan. He thrusts into you again, and this time you’re a bit more ready. He grabs your face with both hands, one palm on either side of you and then he’s face fucking you. Spit dripping everywhere, eyes tearing up, makeup and hair a mess. The sounds of you sucking and gagging on his dick are loud and messy. “Merde! Don’t fucking move.That’s it, That’s it. Oh fuck.” he moans, his breath coming in gasps. He looks at you and himself in the mirror. Fucking beautiful. He says. His movements are so rough that with each thrust into your mouth your knees are scraping the floor, only increasing your arousal, dying to have him inside you. Suddenly, he stops, pulls himself from your mouth, grabs you by your neck, pulling you up and turning you around. Your eyes meet in the mirror. His chest going up and down, out of breath, you’re exactly the same way. He then tells you, in the softest tone, “ Open your legs, let me see you.” So, you do. He positions himself behind you, stroking himself a few times, bringing his face to yours. Kissing you. Your hand moves backwards, grabbing his hair, in a tight grip. You feel the tip of his cock, rubbing your clit, playing with your entrance. You close your eyes, the sensation being too much to handle at the moment. Just when you feel the pressure of him entering you, he pulls out. You grunt in frustration. Pushing yourself against him, looking for that desperate friction, but he’s taking his sweet time with you. He even grabs his dick and starts slapping it obscenely against your clit, creating wet sounds while biting your neck, hard. You moan and you beg. “ Oh my god, please please.”- “Please what, Y/N, tell me. Please what?” You look at him in the mirror and tell him in a plead, “Please fuck me.” And then he’s in you.
As soon as he enters you, you both moan simultaneously, almost synchronized. There had been times where he would had started slowly at first, giving you time to adjust to his size, but not tonight, not now. Soon he’s pounding into you, and you can’t help but scream like a blithering idiot with each thrust. Filling you up completely. One of his hands is on your neck, chocking you, cutting the air a bit, the other one around your waist, in a kind of embrace, keeping you in place while cupping one of your breasts. He’s pumping into you so hard and fast that you breasts are bouncing up and down, almost painfully. The sound of his hips meeting you halfway, flesh to flesh, every time he enters you is like music to your ears. Not to mention how much it hurts, all over, but you rather die than not have him at all. He’s so fucking hard, and you’re so fucking wet. Suddenly he takes the hand around your neck and puts it in your forehead, forcing you to look up, in the mirror above. “Look at yourself. Fucking look.” You watch as he pounds into you restlessly, setting up an impossible pace, entering you over and over again. Everywhere you look, there you are, getting fucked. You pussy grips him like a vice, and you know you’re close. His hand goes down your stomach, and right on to your clit, rubbing it frantically. Oh God. Omg. You get tighter. “Don’t you fucking dare.” He slows down, almost pulling out, putting his head down, watching himself move in and out of you. So slow. Is torture. “If you want something, you know what to do.” And then he’s fucking you hard again. Flesh on flesh, wet sounds, you’re moaning pretty loud, shamelessly, and so is he. “Fuck, I’m close” he says.
There’s music playing in the background, faint noises of people laughing, talking, many things happening at once, but the only thing that matters is this moment right here. “Please let me cum, please let me cum, please can I cu—.” but before you finish your sentence, you’re coming undone. You cum hard, his hands all over you, on your breasts, ass, pussy, touching you, kissing you, licking and sucking, leaving marks. Wave after wave, you even lose your balance, but he’s keeping you in place. Not slowing down his pace, he announces that he’s cummin as well. Without warning he pulls out of you, pushes you down to your knees and puts his cock in your mouth. This time he lets you use your hands, and you lick, suck, and stroke desperately for him to get the release he deserves. “You want my cum?” he asks. “Yes.” He pulls his dick out of your mouth, stroking himself, harder and faster with each second. He’s close. “Such a good girl.”
Your hair is a tangled fucking mess. Your breasts are swollen, with marks everywhere, as well as your neck. Your ass is covered in purple bruises. Lips puffy and red, just as down below. Your mascara a mess everywhere. “You’re so beautiful like this.” He says fascinated. “Now. Open.” You open your mouth, followed by his cock. You take it in your mouth and you feel it pulsating, he’s close. You look up as he closes his eyes and throws his head back, breathing in gasps. You deep throat his entire length, and almost immediately, he cums. His eyes closed, mouth partly open, body trembling, after load and load of cum shoots into the back of your throat. You swallow every single drop. Drinking him, all of him. Your hands travel up to his stomach, touching, caressing…appreciating. After he finishes, he looks at you. His cock still in your mouth, still half hard. You keep sucking it, gently, eyes locked on his the entire time. His mouth suddenly in a straight line. “Get the fuck up.” He tells you. You get up. Here we fucking go. All fun and games, over. He bends down to pick up your dress and throws it at you. “Get fucking dressed. Also, no more drinking, I think you’ve had more than enough and I don’t want to deal with your drunk ass later. I actually want to have a good time. D’accord?” You stand there naked, with the dress in your hands, the lamp throwing different shades of color around the room, almost comical. You looking like a small feeble creature, the way he always manages to make you feel, useless and insignificant. Suddenly you feel embarrassed. “Y-yes.” You manage to let out. “Good. Also, your fucking neck looks like shit right now, please cover it with whatever makeup you can find, my parents are here for christ sake!” So he leaves you bruises all over your body and now is YOUR FAULT?! You don’t even have the energy, so you ignore him. “Yes, Timmy.” He dresses up quickly, turning on the faucet, splashing some water in his face, and combing his hair a bit before heading out. No trace on him of having been fucking you for the past hour. You on the other hand…
When he leaves, you text Elizabeth:
areudirty
theartofmadeline
turnnoffyourmind
vaporwave
blakekathryn
kianamaiart
izzy806