"She's [my daughter] the first one who actually told me because she loves Timothée Chalamet. It was a speech about excellence. It wasn't about celebrity, it wasn't about ego. I completely understood it, and it was beautiful."
-Viola Davis Reacts To Timothée Chalamet Naming Her One Of 'The Greats' In SAG Awards Speech
☆ summary: dating an A-list movie star isn’t cut out for everyone, your exhaustingly in love and devoted to Timothée — but with his full schedule of press, interviews, and events it’s a non stop challenge to get your man alone.
☆ word count: 7.7k
☆ warnings: 18 +, smut, teasing, edging, mostly exhibitionism, oral (m) reviving, lots of pda, praise kink, pet names, dirty talk, heavy fluff, angst, obsession/worship
☆ A/N: I cannot believe this is my first ever Timmy fic after stanning him for years. I really let my fangirl flag fly so I hope this is well loved. Part two soon. 💋
There wasn’t anything but the landscape of a few stars scattered around the dark blues and grey of the night sky when your jet had finally landed. You hadn’t slept the whole flight. Not due to the anticipation of when you could finally lay eyes on your star boy after weeks of only getting as much as a couple late night calls and red carpet photos all over the internet from every journalist, high society article, or press outlet that could exist. You were proud. Maybe the proudest girlfriend out there, but there were times you could see how he fought the balance of it all not getting to his head.
The lights in the space that was exactly comforting to you were rising and you click your phone to check the time. Half after 3am.
You were tired, hell, only just pushing. But you couldn’t have been more awake with the adrenaline of getting your man for a whole three weeks that was starting to rush in.
“Okay, hotel is secured. They have your chauffeur waiting to take you straight there so you can rest, I’ll get your bags- -” your shared assistant that your boyfriend always kept around to take care of you when flying you out, was ready to go as she gently assured your stay. You already pictured it would be the most glamorous in-crowd hotel you could fathom. (Picked by him) you assumed there would be bodyguards with champagne even waiting for you outside this jet knowing your boyfriend.
But, you shook your head gently, with a smile. Already grabbing your designer purse to exit and get to fresh air finally. “No, no. I want to see him first.” You told your assistant and she only looked a tad stressed as she had already gotten out her phone to text a schedule change to the chauffeur.
“No problem, it’s already taken care of. I know he’s dying to see you.” Her voice had a flow of newfound tenderness to it — that made your blush heighten just a second before you and your bags were being escorted from the jet. Sure, there wasn’t a squander of sun out and lucky no paps to be found. But the moment your heel touched the gravel you pushed on your sunglasses (mainly to hide your tired eyes from your driver who was greeting you and taking your things in order.)
Scatter brained, you watched the lights of the new city you’d get used to for the next couple of weeks. Thinking and sorting out the plans you and your boyfriend would make in the wist of his tumultuous schedule. You knew he was a busy man. Maybe the busiest in the industry as we speak, all the promotion, press conferences and red carpets… with awards season creeping around the corner there was but so much time and attention he could give to you, his girl, in between.
The exhaustion, the flights back and forth. You did it all for him. And he made sure you’d be there to experience the bliss of having such a life so young. as much as possible. His sweet reminders and actions of just how much your heard working man adored you even through the chaos of it all and the world at his finger tips — you were always on his mind.
Even if the most moments in between could be the sweetest you’d maybe ever experience, your love and his fame, it was a rollercoaster time to time.
The media wasn’t a first grade class, the pressure of it could be a thing of its own. Everyone knew that you were the movie stars supporting and to put it as they say ‘almost annoyingly visually perfect’ girlfriend. They all were obsessed with the bond you shared. The it-couple factor you have. Your all too well put together clothing that possessed the it-girl factor they all feed off of right beside boyfriend. And you’d seen how his fans could nearly feel how obsessed with each other you are, through every snap of a camera shot that was published of the two of you.
And of course, that came with struggles, the public isn’t know for always being nice. But that’s what pushed the two of you even closer. He was there to protect you from it all, never making you feel like a burden in his limelight.
The idea of seeing him in just a few had your teeth bearing into your bottom lip, with a crooked smile and a soft squeeze to the hem of your skirt, you’d been pulling up to the dimly lit back entrance of the venue. You remembered him saying he’d be working late for a last minute photoshoot for his upcoming snl performance. He’s been over the moon about it and you hadn’t complained once every time you’d been a giggling mess when he’d run over his excitement of being back over the phone with you now matter how late or early.
You missed him.
Before the driver could come to a halt, you’d already been grabbing your purse to jump out of the car.
“This way,” your assistant, right behind, had voiced to you — but as you go to close the door the driver was peaking at your absence of the back seat.
“I can wait out here, ms. I know you had a long flight, there’s no problem.”
“Oh.. no, it’s all fine, take a lap. I won’t be quick.” You flashed him a small thankful smile as your assistant braced your back gently to lead you inside the venue.
There wasn’t much to it. A long hallway, an elevator, and another long hallway. You knew he’d definitely not be expecting you to have came straight to see him, probably not wanting to bother you with texts thinking you’d be fast asleep under the warmth of luxury hotel sheets at this hour.
You hadn’t told him you landed anyways after all.
So you hoped the click of your heels against the floors as your assistant guided you to the back green rooms wouldn’t ruin the surprise.
Soon just hearing him made the tightness in your stomach come escalating when you sought out the sound of his voice. A few doors down. You could tell he’d been conversing in a way that he’d sure been smiling ear to ear. And your favorite tune there is, his follow up laughter that echoed as you got closer. Your favorite sound. Your obsession. Your home after another lonely flight.
There wasn’t another man out there like Timothee.
Stopping to watch him from the doorway first, your arms folded as your heart melted. You watch him take up the space in the room like second nature. He’d been goofing around with his photographer Aidan. His hair an untamed state that looked dreamy as is, standing lean and stature in some ridiculously colorful outfit that he made look effortlessly cool. He moved his hands expressive as ever as he laughs in a humble tune. And his smile, oh, his smile in your opinion could save lives if the right people were in charge.
Your assistant walked ahead, but Timothée hadn’t noticed you just yet — he’d been pretending to create some kind of silly music video with his photographer trailing around him, as undeniably impressed in a way you had no doubt was a reaction your boyfriend had no issue bringing out of anyone who’s around him. His fingers blaze through his hair quickly, trying his best not to laugh too much at his own radiance.
He was perfect like this. In his element. So beautiful in a star-like way that for a moment your smile was so large to the point your face began to hurt. You forgot your not just watching him on a tiny screen — but right now. In real time. your angel boy being right in front of you.
And then there’s something unspoken, after a mere few minutes of conversation, something in his expression shifts like he already aware of your presence, like he feels you there. When he does finally turns around, with that soft boyish grin creeping up on his lips, eyes full of something playful, and that damn charm — you barely have time to sink in how good he looks before,
“You flew all this way just to stare ?”
You giggle out a soft squeal and there was not much to say before you were springing to be swept up in his arms. Heels once against the floor now being lifted as Timmy held you to him like it’s been more than a couple weeks, like centuries. Your lips mesh on instant, unhesitatingly taking it in with a little “mmm” of satisfaction as you wrapped your arms over his neck and his grip around you firm with warmth.
Smirking into the kiss, you could feel it even with your eyes closed, the tickle of his mustache — new yet familiar, you let out giggles in between the perfectly timed and soft yet daring kisses he left that said ‘fuck I missed you.’
Days of distance melting away and the two of you were completely unbothered by anyone around watching, already swooning and playfully shaking their heads knowing the magnitude you shared as a couple. Not even as your boyfriend set you back to your feet you’d still been trying to grasps a leg around him, feel the roots of his hair through your fingers. And he couldn’t let up on you either as he kissed on your face till you were a mess of giggles.
It felt like highschool. Timmy’s team, his photographer, your assistants — they didn’t exist in your reality. It’s just you and him.
“I missed you.. what are you doing here, baby ? I thought you'd be at the suite right now,” Timothee voiced softly as he pushed a few of your locks out of your face to see you. Eyes sparking up at him like it was the first time. Your smile beaming, and you held his wrists.
“I couldn’t wait to see you.. I had to see you ! It’s been three weeks, Timmy.”
“I know.” He laughs and leaned in to peck your cheek, your hands ghost over his rhinestone necklace with admiration and your eyes inch down his body of intermixed clothing of colors and brands, you grin.
“This is.. a look.”
“You like ?” His smirk was back and you bit your lip just enough to bring the pride to his expression. Your eyes flicker over his studded belt.
“I love everything on you.” Your voice was humming of flirtatious notes towards your man, you drape your arms over his shoulders again and Timothee managed to keep his cordial manner but slightly licked over his bottom lip and scanned just over your head to check for the attention of the room, and to your luck, his team members had gone about what they’d been doing before your arrival. So Timothee’s hands gracefully on your waist, flow a bit lower as he kept you close and under the gaze of his hooded green eyes. You were stuck there.
His fingers graze over the tight fitted mini skirt you had been flaunting. A light grey cashmere. You could tell he was holding back from the three weeks weight of not being close enough to feel the heat of your skin — trying to fight its way through him. Your hands now gently drifting his arms and the look in your eyes stricken by the man you got to call yours, Timmy just pulled you a little closer so you’d been hovering his chest. And he’d been able to lower his voice to whisper in your ear,
"This skirt… you really didn’t want me to focus on work tonight, did you?" He was trying to keep a normal embrace of you, but he’d been grinning of course. His fingers brushing against your thigh again and he was massaging the right of your hip with tenderness — just enough to make you shiver and heave a small little gasp. Pulling back to look up at him with doting eyes and a small little sideways smile of mischief on your lips.
“I just wanted to give you a little surprise,” Your smile sweet, but laced with a hidden, lustrous, message behind it you knew your boyfriend could only take in doses. He scoffed with a chuckle and looked over to a corner of the room, noticing the time had been slipping as you’d already stolen his attention from his shoot. Quite the distracting treat.
“Uh huh.. we’ll talk about it later..” he started and he leaned back in to leave another slow, tasteful and greedy kiss on your lips. It had you closing your eyes and lingering for more. “Go get some rest, chéri, I love you.” Timmy slowly inched away with a soft chuckle as your intertwined hands stay locked although drifted between the two of you for a moment. The firm grasp of just not wanting to let your boyfriend out of your reach consuming you as the playful pout-like smile you gave him was what had him probably now staying till around five am.
When your fingers do slip, and your dragging your feet to walk away, instead biting your lip like a love stuck school girl — you watch him part. With the same restraint and a grin on his lips as he mouths a little “go” to your gone essence. And you were holding down your miss, your need, your want for him and to stay in his world the entire ride to your suite.
The ravishing room with a view of the city, towering buildings, an outlook from an enormous glass wall. It all made you felt a little less distant knowing you’d finally been in the same city as your man. That’s what you need. Close enough to your Timothee. At least for you.
With a soft smile on your lips, your bags became your last priority when you dropped them to reach what was left on the king sized bed for you. Pink peonies and red roses. Your absolute favorite, left next to a box of Pierre Hermé chocolates. Elegantly wrapped in ribbon.
Your heart was going mad. And your face flustered as you plopped on the bed to find the small note left on top of the candy, “Un cadeau pour la femme que j’aime. Tu me manquais trop, bébé.” You read instantly with the sound of Timmy’s voice in mind, you were rubbing your bitten lip to hide your obvious blush from the empty room of course. A girlish titter leaving you as you lay back and stare over the sweet words your boyfriend had written. It was things like this. Dating an international superstar could be a deal breaker for most, but you weren’t like most. And neither your boyfriend — he made you feel loved. No matter how far.
So even being as hard to pin down as he was between filming and touring, meetings and flights. When it came to you. He did whatever he could to make time.
Eventually, you had fallen asleep with a quarter of the box of chocolates gone delightfully and sunken between the silk sheets as the low sunlight of the day crept in. You slept so heavily you didn’t even wake when Timothee snuck in somewhere between five thirty and six am. Probably only letting himself sleep for a few hours before he was up, dressed and ready — but not to start promotion or press.
“Mon amour,” you heard a tender note into your ear as you’d been half in a dream and also waking up, feeling a gentle kiss being left on your neck, and hands through your hair. “Baby.. wake up.” You sigh a tired-some little hum before shifting from your side to your back. A small little grin takes upon your lips when you feel another kiss embrace your jaw. Soon opening your eyes to not just Timmy, but the keys to his BMW dangling from his fingers.
“Brain won’t be on my neck for a few hours.. wanna take her out to go shopping ?”
Something along the lines of a squeal and a yawn was your answer as you jump up from your comfort almost immediately. Not taking your time at all before you’d been out the door, Timothee hardly got any real free time away from his work and it wasn’t even a question that you’d take it for granted. A quick fur coat, your heels, and a mini skirt would do. It was a shock to you both how fast you were out that door, hand in hand of course, for the first time ever.
While your plans were to shop. Something the two of you shared an overwhelming desire and bond for, it couldn’t have been less about clothes and more about when you could get them off. Timothee eyeing through some Chanel sunglasses, and you on him, caressing your finger tips over the loops of his belt like the clock was ticking before he’d get a text or call from his manager.
It was excruciating but he showed less resistant than you expected. Leaning over tiers of shoes to kiss you, rest his hand on the small of your back, even grip your side time to time. Pulling you in close so he could whisper a “I see paps starting to line up outside.. let’s give them a show, yeah ?” And that was like ecstasy for you. One thing you both were good at, was not minding a little attention from the cameras.
So when you and your boyfriend had been with your purses, shoes, pretty patted wallets and all, you two went into pda overdrive.
It was between you and the check out counter who’d get to Timmy first. And simply you had won.
Your man was reaching into his back pocket to pay. But you didn’t make it that easy as you’d been standing on your tip toes, leaving kisses, soft pecks and smooches all over his face. His lips and his collar. “Baby..” Timothee chuckled as you’d cupped his jaw. He’d lifted his chin playfully higher so you’d struggle to reach and he could attend to getting his credit card out. But that was the last thing on your mind when you couldn’t even get yourself off his sent now.“What ?” Your giggle is soft with your reply, hands lowering to his neck with a small sound of pleasure leaving you when Timothee couldn’t help but lean into your kiss unapologetically. Even as he had passed off his card to the the cashier behind you, whom was truly trying to look away from your affection on display.
Completely distracted and without a care of who’d been in there, even possibly a fan being at a lost for words of the actors drift right now. Timmy was too lost in you.
“You’re something else, you know that ?” the corner of his lips curled to a grin when his hands rested on your waist, you pulled back to look at him. Eyes staying on his sweet lips that were yours and your only with a devious smile.
“You can’t tell me to put on a show and expect it not to be good…” you hum and your boyfriend was in a painful field not to let his fixation on you over take him. Making himself as cordially as possible, take you by the hand, and your bags of course — out of there quickly. You giggle as you trail behind him in that moment which was caught in hundreds of snaps from the paparazzi outside. It would be published everywhere in approximately twenty minutes.
"Did you have fun spending all my money, bébé?"
Your smile achingly sweet. "You love spoiling me."
To which he chuckles and mutters, “Way too much.”
When you two got back to your hotel, standing in the elevator with the somberly slow pace it’s going, it’s soft music being a bore when you’d rather hear your name being purred from Timmy’s lips, you needed to get him up to that suite immediately. And to only make it tougher — Timothee was leaning against the wall, watching you with that lazy yet seductive little grin. The corner of your lips tugging on a smile and trying not to look at him as you shift your weight on your heels. Gripping the ribbon handle of the bag holding your freshly bought designer accessories.
“Stop staring at me and pull up your pants.” You direct your need to be pushed against this elevator wall to teasing your man as your eyes flicker to his jeans that were sagging off of his ass.
He just smirked, and annoyingly tugged them down a little farther so you could see the hem of his Calvin Klines. “Ma chérie, you love it. Don’t lie.” He beckoned and you breathed out some pent up air. Biting your lip.
“I do… I love that shit,” was mumbled from you, and your man heard with a cocky chuckle as he ran his tongue over his teeth and sure enough he was backing you against the elevator wall.
A proud sense of glee was washing over as you’d claim to be a master at manifestation. How quickly Timmy’s hands find your hips, leaning down to put his lips on to yours in a crash, like he’d been starving for this — because he has.
“You really did come all this way just to tease me ?” your boyfriend’s voice sets lower, teasing, but there’s a raw need behind it.
Your barely getting the chance to respond because he’s excellently taking away your ability too. You softly groan into the way his lips move on yours like a dream. One hand gripping your hip, the other tilting your chin up as he kisses you —deep, slow, like he’s savoring the taste. Your fingers tangle in his short curls, pulling just enough to make him groan.
"I missed you," you breathe between kisses that are growing sloppier, needier. More urgent as the floors escalate. And your risk driven man smiles against your mouth. "Yeah?" He feels out the metal handle bar against your back, hands trail lower, gripping your thighs, as if he’s about to lift you against the wall, you giggle into the urgency kisses.
Elevator sex ? Fuck yeah.
Was your fantastical thought before you heard a ding.
The doors slide open and a stranger steps in. The core shatter of feeling Timothee pull back from you on instant washes over and completely fucks up your vibe.
His jaw clenched, and eyes dark with frustration as your face was flaming as your smoothed out your skirt. Terrified they could hear the way your heart was nearly pounding out of your chest. And Timothee, charming as always, gives them a polite nod. His hands stuffed into his pockets like he wasn’t just about to have you trembling against an elevator wall.
The seconds stretch painfully.
Could the door just fucking open ?
You tap your foot. He sucks in his breath.
And when you shift, still feeling the ghost of Timothee’s touch on you, you peak up at your boyfriend — he’s smirking.
Finally another ding hits.
The stranger steps out and the second the doors close, your boyfriend pounces. “I’m not done with you.” His tone deeper, rougher, as he now grabs your wrist. Pins them above your head and you gasp with half shock and half excitement.
“Timmy-”
“Shh.”
He’s looking up at the numbers on the top of the confined space going once again painfully slow, the camera beside it — then he’s looking back down at you. Fuck it. He’s pressing his body against yours slow. Intertwining his fingers within yours at a toe curling pace. He’s trailing torturous, sweet kisses down your collarbone. Breathing on to your skin and suctioning his lips on a final place. You whimper something hard to tell. You let your eyes close and feel it. Feel his large hands, exploring and groping your body, your thighs, your ass. Moving you against that wall like a trophy. His lips move to over your chest where your cleavage is just perfectly on display. Licking over the top your breast, taking his time. Running you through.
Your watching. Watching carefully every ounce of longing over the last couple of weeks he’s putting into tasting you. Feeling his want and need as he just keeps getting lower. Pressing a kiss to your abdomen till he’s on his knees. Hiking your mini skirt up a little just for him to see. Carving your leg over his shoulder and kissing on your inner thighs with a soft hum,
“Timothee..” you pant as you view with hands going to his hair, running through his scalp and your skirt up just enough to see green orbs staring up at you as his lips grace your skin. With hunger, and a small grin on display. His lips kiss, peck and smooch on your thighs till he’s breathing out near the thin layer of fabric over tour cunt. He pressed a careful kiss there,
He was really going to tear into you in this fucking elevator.
But it came crashing down when the elevator dings again. And before you both can even think about getting your shit together, in walks Brian. Timothee’s manager. Someone who’s probably seen it all with him, but this ? This was something else.
He clears his throat, “Seriously ?”
You were breathless as you gasps before covering your mouth. You hit Timothee in the shoulder who was gripping you and had no intention of stopping. You face turned into the sun. You tried to fix your skirt that was slightly askew, straightening up like you weren’t pinned against the wall about to get eaten out.
Brian had his arms crossed and was staring deadpan at Timothee who was reluctantly rising from his knees with more of a sense of frustration that he’d been interrupted from his girl again. Brian pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh and Timothee had a stupid grin on his face, like he didn’t care. “What ? She just got here.” His voice was unbothered and smug. Like it was the most normal thing to get caught like this in a luxury hotel elevator.
"Right,” his manager sighs, running a hand down his face. "And in five hours, you have a live audience watching you host SNL. You wanna explain to Lorne Michaels why you’re showing up looking like you just had—“
"Okay!" You interrupt, eyes wide, face burning.
Timothée laughs under his breath, and he’s still got his hands looped around your waist.
Brian just shakes head. "I don’t care what you do. Just... at least make it to rehearsal on time." Then, without another word, he step out of the elevator when the floor hits.
The second the doors shut again—
"Where were we?" Timmy is tugging you back in, and you’re pushing him away with a bashful snicker.
“You’re crazy.”
☆
Due to your own gentle encouragement, and firmness to keep your clothes on — Timmy did end up making it to rehearsals on time. With as much energy it took to restrain yourself from making anymore risqué moves with your boyfriend, keeping your hands to yourself until after the show was necessity for such a huge night. In all his greatest, you had no doubt Timothee would blow the world away once again with his presence, his performance, his aura. It’s a feeling — the one where he doesn’t have to try to be amazing at everything he does.
So when your in a crowd of cheers, watching your man from side stage watching him kill his opponents this awards season, the hug you had when meeting him back stage, was as authentic as could be. You threw your entire body into him the moment your body guards brought you to him.
“You killed it, baby ! You were amazing !” Your feet were off the floor again as Timothee held you in his arms, his laughter closest to your ear as the cast and crew around all came in hot with the excitement of the environment. You think back when you were out there, cheering for him. And his eyes matched yours for a moment, sparkle and all through the lights. A beam of ‘all for you’ like a subliminal message that only you caught.
He was setting you down with a brief kiss and you’d been smiling up at him after hanging on to the kiss for a moment more.
“Are you ready to catch dinner with everyone ? Change into that pretty dress we got earlier,” Timmy kissed your cheek with a grin and you’d been thinking about that dress all day. Almost as much as him really.
“Wouldn’t you like a treat..”
“C’mon, don’t tease me. Where’s my reward for tonight ?”
Your eyes trail his figure with a little smirk, “Later.” You used his own game on him and Timmy was putting his front back on not to draw attention to the way he’d ran a hand over his neck in primal repression, just before accepting your claim. He draped an arm over your shoulder and you giggled.
Timothee got his team to take care of you as quick as possible. Not caring much for himself to do another outfit change when the ones he’s been in for back to back red carpet events were taking over every news outlet as we speak. His Yankees boomer Jacket was his choice for the night. But you. You’d been dripping in drapes, rhinestones, and dollars by the time you’d been out of your suite again. One thing he was going to do was have you looking the prettiest, decked out for whatever event it was on his arm. The Louboutins he gifted you the other night, along with simplistic jewelry that was not only blitzing with bling but had a message.
A chain around your neck with his initial.
So when he caught you in the suv to take you both to dinner, it was his unhinged jaw that did it for you.
“Holy fuck,” he didn’t even try to stutter when you sat extra close to him in that car. He kissed your shoulder. Diving in your florally vanilla sent.
Your smile proud, “this is all you, y’know.” You gesture to your dress, your diamonds, your Prada lipstick — but actually meaning all the heart you would put into being their for your man a million times again for what it’s worth. He was giving you a not dreamy grin as he looked over how chalant you’d been alongside his casualness. Reaching over to shut the door behind you, but getting extra close. So his heat was emerged with yours, and his lips lingered your gloss for just a second.
And thank god the ride was short.
When you two got to the after party, it had been all flashes from the cameras the moment you stepped foot out of the car. So much so it was hard to see, hard to take shape of everything around you, but Timmy was the perfect gentleman — your hand locked in his as he lead you to your destination so you wouldn’t go blind by the lights. All those cameras, on him all the time. He was a pro at navigating it. Soon, the room was buzzing with Hollywood’s elite. Timothee effortlessly moving through the crowd, not giving quotes to reporters on purpose yet flashing that captivating and knowing smirk.
All that as you we’re seated with him at a dimly lit table in the corner. Just how you liked, even with the chaos of all the stars around.
But Timothee’s mind ? Completely on you.
Instead of sitting across, he’d moved his chair to sit right beside you. Taking your hand in his again and pressing it to his lips. After only an hour, when he’s sipping on a beverage and taking glimpses of you in, the way your dress clings to your body, how your toying with the ‘T’ chain around your neck, shining against your collarbone. All while you’re taking about him. It makes his jaw clench.
“Oh my god,” you titter as you lift your phone as it’s blowing up from messages from all your friends. Banging on about how iconic Timmy was tonight. “Everyone saying that Oscar is yours. And they’re totally right.”
He let’s out a humble chuckle and reaches out for his straw to around his drink, mumbling a soft “no, no.” He shakes his head, neat yet disheveled curls falling with.
“What do you mean no ? Yes !” You laugh more cordially so no cameras catch a bad shot of you looking insane. Timothee smiles, and watches your reaction to him that’s always more adorable and endearing than he can imagine for himself.
You noticed underneath his cool, the nervy jitter of his fingers and you smile fondly, setting your phone down, you take his hand in yours, holding it under your chin with a sweet little smile.
“It’s already yours baby, you’re a prize.”
“You’re a prize,” he replied, green eyes never moving away from your shine.
You can’t help but blush, you were both so locked on one another. So into each other. Timmy let his thumb brush against your cheek, leaning in close and you felt a camera flash somewhere ahead of you, but it didn’t matter. You’re zoned in on the man beyond you.
“Can we get out of here ?” You suggested quite, but voice filled with a dazed kind of essence because your eyes flicker over his fit again. Saying so much without saying anything. He gets the hint and tenses up again.
“Are you suggesting we get away, mon belle?”
“Mhm” you nod as his thumb covers your bottom lip, almost slipping through before he catches himself in the act of being too taken by you. Your looking at him, pure yet seductive, and the corner of his lips curl upwards as he takes your breath away again in a gentle kiss. Before you knew it, Timmy was standing to his feet and taking both of your hands with him. He alerted Brian, his bodyguard and said his goodbyes to his peers before resting a hand on the deep of your back to meet your driver somewhere outside of the venue.
Of course, a hurd of fans, paparazzi and journalists all caught the two of you leaving that after party early and the sounds of screams mixed with paps trying to get to where your car was could be heard from the airport. Cameras were snapping photos of you, your it-girl physique, in the hard earned dazzle your boyfriend had been responsible for. And you had a polished little smile. Waving to your audience, you didn’t mind at all having this dress in the press.
“Over here!” “Beautiful!” “Is that necklace in honor of your boyfriend?”
You were biting your lip and being an absolute doll for the paparazzi, giving a prideful beam over your shoulder at flashes — that being before Timothee took you by the hip. And pulled you into hiding with him in the car, you only giggled playfully when you’d been grabbed by him suddenly. He pretended to be annoyed by the paps asking him “Timothée, how does it feel to have the most stylish girlfriend in Hollywood?” But, he held a small grin on his lips by the time you two were secured in the backseat of your ride. Because in the morning, you’d looking stunning as ever. Posing for the cameras, hand in hand with him and it would be all over every social media platform in existence.
Everyone would go insane. His fans. The world. Obsessing over how you’d headed out early. Obsessed with how obsessed you were with one another.
Still on the high of his SNL performance, The absolute magnitude of his fame, the way he’s being swallowed by it— fans sobbing, cameras flashing, people begging just to touch him. The chase and drive of award season and all, the praise, the status; you couldn’t have made the climax of his stardom feel like anything other than pure paradise. Solidifying his high paced lifestyle is all worth it when It’s only been a couple minutes since the driver pulled off, and you two had shut the window peek on sight.
City lights flashing outside, the hum of the car engine was tough, the faint sound of people still screaming Timothée’s name in the distance while your all over him. Your glazed nails running down his chest, slow like you want to drive him insane. Your eyes were now dark, practically devouring him immediately. Your lips parted and meshing with his like you’d been starving. Timothee pulled you into his lap without anymore hesitation and you’d let out a little hum when the trace of his hands over your hips came in. Gripping on you like you’d get taken away if he didn’t grasp on long enough. Your hands go to his hair — Kissing deep, slow yet at a rushed pace, recklessly in the back seat.
Timmy’s Cartier ring, cold and sliding up your thigh, inching all over the way you sat on his lap and making sure to pull you in, keep you boarderline close. “Mmm.. mhm- -” was the only thing coming from you. Topping up so your knees were on the leather seats, on either side of his hips. And you deepen your smooches a little more and a soft groan comes from Timmy’s end. Your body drives him crazy. The way you arch your back ever so slightly. The way the fabric of your dress hugs your curves, clinging in all the right places.
And your flaunting it, teasing, pushing on him — hard.
So he grips your ass with a little shake and you squeal with excitement. “You should of seen yourself up there tonight. You looked fucking incredible.” You murmur against his skin, punctuating it with an open mouthed kiss.
Timothee smirks, “Yeah ? You liked that, huh ?”
“Yeah.. you’re so famous baby, and you work so hard. Everyone loves you.” You huff out a desperate little sound, pressing your lips to the sharp line of his jaw, dragging your mouth against the slight scruff of his mustache, down to the heat of his neck. Your hands grazed there along with your kisses. “Never shave this okay ? It’s so hot.”
Timmy gives you that damn cocky grin, closing his eyes as he tilts back, giving you space to ruin him. “Mm, you're really gassin' me up right now.” He voice smug and heavy, hands ghosting over your inner thighs, daring to squeeze your ass some more which makes the dampness between your thighs begin to flow in. You felt the stretch of his Adam’s apple along with a soft sigh that comes from his lips as you lick over his skin. His fingers tighten around your waist and he starts rocking you down against him.
Your delicate hands are already traveling, slipping under the loose hem of his jacket, fingertips skating over his stomach, feeling the way his muscles twitch at your touch. And you suck on the bottom of your lip a little as he exhales sharply, a laugh slipping through,“You're unreal.”
Your eyes go intense and lost in his, your lips hover over his ear, caressing him at a subtle pace, feeding up his ego.
“You love it.”
His breath catches when your fingers trace lower, teasing over the waistband of his jeans. You sincerely couldn’t sit with the temptation for another minute. So you lean up, find your balance within the speed of the bumpy ride pushing you only closer into your man, and speed to get his belt undone.
Just what he needs after all of it. The weeks that went by, the tiresome press and events. Alone with the love of his life, feeling him this way and getting him like this. That mix of devotion and sensuality. Gold. The voice of his girl right now, telling him everything he needs to hear “you’re taking home that Oscar, baby” —that’s exactly what he craves. He wants the world’s love, but yours? Yours is the most addictive. It makes him feral.
So as your eyes grow with hunger, your hands working quick to get his fly open and to embrace his boxers, sitting pretty with a nice tent. You’re watching the way he breathes when your fingers trace over his cock, teasing, grinning, hiking your dress up and getting on your knees in front of him.
There was only one way to finish what he started earlier.
Timothee stretched as much as he could in the fine spaced car as your nails trail the tops of his thighs and he’s man spreading for you. So heavenly, his jaw flexes, and his eyes darkening in the low glow of the passing city lights. He’s watching you with so much hunger, lips parted, chest rising and falling as you sit up to tug his jeans farther away from his hips.
“You gonna be good f’me ?” His voice softened but assertive as he was already holding your chin in his grasps.. hooded eyes only on the beauty that you were as you’d been starring up at him, with a lust filled little smile and nod. Too sweet, too much for him to handle as your hands were doing a job of their own — reaching to stroke him once. Slow. Painfully slow, and he curses, you try not to giggle and your lips grave the tip of his cock. Not looking away from his expression for a second as you let your tongue dart out to taste, lick a stripe on him dutifully.
Your boyfriends brows knit upwards and his tongue darts out to wet his lip as he watched you repeat that a couple more times. Then your mouth is on him completely,
“Oh.. shit,” one of his hands is reaching out to the arm rest across the seating, and the other going to search through your hair.
A low whimper could be heard from you as you didn’t hesitate to have your mouth filled with his sick the moment you’d fit him in. Sucking nice, then more brazen. Hallowing your cheeks and making him groan for it. You could hear his curses, feel his veins pulse as you pick up the speed. And your sitting in your own pool uncomfortably when you let your hand glide and flow up his abdomen another time to grip his studded chain. Playing and toying with it as he moaned through your wet Nooo you made on him. You’re moving your mouth up and down on him in sequence. Your own moans drawn out sharply as Timmy grips the back of your neck to move you how he wants.
Your hand was pumping him at the same time he was dropping his head against the seat with a deep groan and you wish you could see it. Like all the tension, and the noise around Oscar’s buzz being washed away from him. He’s letting you take him away. “Fuck, you make me feel so good, pretty girl.” Although you were flattered, you couldn’t be more focused on trying to get him off. His skin just feeling right against your tongue and you only stop for air just to smile and calmly run your thumb over his tip with a sly grin. It makes him have to restrain from kicking the drivers seat ahead.
“Easy..” you murmur with a soft giggle as you watch your man fight it from above, sucking in his bottom lip and gripping his jeans as your hand jerks him clean. He was hissing a string of curses before you go back to licking and kissing on his shaft, moaning like you just needed to be fucked by the movie star right here. Right now.
And in all perfect timing he pulls you off of him even as his cock twitched hungrily.
“Oh my god,” he huffs, chest rising and falling, “slide your panties down for me..”
Not only does your stomach drop, and heat flashes through your body like an electric current. You stop to take in Timmy’s disheveled state with utter contempt and a giggle. Your image of a quicky in this car could go so many ways.
He’s amused at your hesitation. Even from the race of all day — trying to pin him down for this to be it. The fire throughout you was at an all time high. Timothee was getting you off the car floor and making sure you were properly on his lap again. “Now, chérie.” his voice a low, a commanding whisper, reminding you exactly the kind of night you were about to have.
So when you complied, taking part of the very thin panties you’d been wearing under your dress, and pulling them over your heat the was just for him, your now damp thighs, as he got to watch. Licking over his lip for a brief moment till you were bare.
That tiny obedient action dives him absolutely wild.
“Good girl, You’re always so perfect for me, yeah?” your boyfriend grins, hand going to your hips again and your now soaked cunt lingers right over his dick. Wanting, starving for you. And you feel it everywhere. Without him even being in, your legs go weak, your breath hitches, and his fingers are already toying with your folds as your nails prime his shoulder and you slip him a soft kiss that has you both moaning. Then again, yet this time his lips only skim the corner of your mouth, but he doesn’t kiss you. He loves watching you fall apart first. Loves the anticipation. Loves knowing that you’d let him stretch you crazy right now.
You have a frustrated groan as your head releases. He huffs out a chuckle. Holding back from rewarding you for just another second, as the tension being so thick it could snap — all came with the consequence of the car jerking to a stop. Easily throwing the two of you into each other.
Timothée blinks, his head dropping back against the seat, groaning dramatically. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
The driver clears his throat over the speaker. “We’ve arrived, Mr. Chalamet.”
Your boyfriend was breathless, at a loss for words and running his hands down his face. All you could do was shake your head with a light hearted chuckle and start fixing your dress.
“Better hurry before you get recognized.” Your tone sweet enough just to get him hard again, but vexing enough to piss him off farther.
He glares at you. Eyes still blown with need. But he kisses your neck tender and poised anyways as he quickly buttons his jeans. “Oh, you’re gonna pay for this.”
You both practically stumble out of the suv, Timothée tugs his hoodie up to avoid cameras, but your hands never leave each other.
And the second your through the lobby, past security, past the elevator doors — It’s on again.
Description: At a party in the Atreides' Caladan mansion, you, the lovely and honorable princess of House Corrino, are introduced to Paul Atreides. You two are attracted to one another right away. You and Paul have an unrivaled electric chemistry. You're wickedly smart, terribly funny, and perfectly flawless, and Paul is just the same. You and Paul become closer, both literally and figuratively, with every second that goes by. You both secretly concur that you would be more than happy to continue pursuing whatever odd thing was occurring between you two for longer than one night, no matter what it took.
Warnings: Fem!reader, princess!reader, Corrino!reader, mentions of sexual activites(no actual smut yet), brief mentions of alcohol and drugs/spice, (SPOILER: talk of political marriage)
Authors note: I worked hard to make sure this was mostly lore accurate with no spelling or grammatical errors. I PRAY that ya'll are okay with whatever format this is lol. This is my first fanfic EVER so I'm open to criticism!!! Let me know if you have any recommendations or anything, I'm planning to make this a pretty long series, but this part is sort of like a teaser to see if you even want any more parts. This DOES end quite abruptly. Anyways, enjoy!
“--Duke Atreides, you have simply outdone yourself,” a peculiarly tipsy lady had said to Paul just a moment ago. Her drunkenness explained how she mistook the boy for Duke Leto, Paul’s father. Her jeweled fingers held a wine-filled crystal glass with a lipstick-covered rim above her head in celebration, her gaze drifting around the large dining hall, which was filled with people of all sorts.
The people in the room were either high-class citizens of the Imperial House Corrino and House Atreides, nobles of the Landsraad Council, the wealthiest Ixian engineers, or the Imperium’s favorite spice smugglers—who were disguised as wealthy folk, of course. Everyone was dressed in their finest suits and gowns, drinking spice-melange-infused liquor and the famous Caladanian fine wine. At first glance, it was a party. A grand one at that. But in reality, it was just another boring political meeting disguised as an entertaining event—mainly so the elites’ children could grow more familiar with each other for when they will have to take on their parents’ roles. You and Paul fell under that category.
“The compliments go to my mother; she did all the planning,” Paul replied plainly, eager to shake this strange woman off of him. You had seen many women come up to him, hoping to find some entertainment at this party. However, Paul remained firm and treated them all the same: dismissive but respectful. You notice his eyes dart around the room, searching for somebody else to converse with, before they land on Gurney Halleck, the Atreides’ weapons master, who was drunkenly singing and strumming the strings of his baliset. Paul bid the woman a hasty farewell, then paced off into the crowd of old nobles with leathery faces who reeked of spice melange until he was out of your view, so you decided to focus your mind on something else to pass time.
You were seated in a velvet-cushioned armchair at a small table in the corner of the dining hall, which you had found around 10 minutes ago to escape awkward, persisting conversation with some unknown young lord of some old forgotten land—whose breath smelled like manure and greed and some of the main course from tonight's meal. You presently sighed at the painfully recent memory, praying to some god that you would never again have to cross paths with whoever that was. To distract yourself, you studied the room.
Glowglobes had been freshly lighted to appease light among the early dark, casting shades of orange upon the pristine marble floors that held swirling colors of the richest maroons and emerald greens and precious golds. Your eyes dragged across the floor to the other side of the room, which had an entryway cut out of the stone wall. Around a dozen foolish female guests were crowding the center of the Great Hall, grouped around the palace’s grand fireplace. An open blaze crackled there, emitting heat and small flickers of light onto jewels and beads and costly fabrics of the women’s dresses. They were all quietly cursing themselves for mistaking Caladan for a warm environment, wishing they’d brought their fine whale fur coverings—or at least had worn longer gowns.
You stared at them, now realizing that half of them were the daughters of spice smugglers and the other half were most likely some descendants from the nobles of the Landsraad Council. One girl in an unsightly yellow-gold dress noticed your eyes upon the even more unsightly group, which evoked whispers to protrude from their thin lips and resulted in you turning your head in the opposite direction to avoid conflict—or worse, another unwanted conversation.
You sighed again, looking down at your bejeweled hands and fingers. You were observant. Too observant. You noticed every little detail, blaming the fact you were locked away in a palace for half of your life due to your father’s overprotective nature. Because of him, you normally succumbed to the library instead of pursuing a thrilling nightlife like other girls your age. But he had a good reason. He is none other than the Emperor Shaddam Corrino IV, an extremely noble man who rules the entirety of the known universe. With you being the most beautiful of his many daughters, he felt he needed to protect you from the horrors of the Imperium. And to make sure you never had to rely on a husband in the future, he made sure you were very well educated in geography, politics, history, economics, and so on. Because of this, you were wickedly intelligent, which ultimately heightened your observant nature.
Looking down at your glass of wine, noticing how the dim lighting reflected off of the deep red color, you entirely miss the fact that someone sat down at your table. Maybe you aren’t so observant after all.
“I beg that you don’t talk to me,” a male voice muttered in your direction. You quickly looked up, slightly offended by his words. You then saw it was Paul Atreides, and he had not even looked at you yet. You guessed he was avoiding all forms of contact, assuming you were just some stranger, which was self-explanatory because you were, in fact, sitting in a corner by yourself. “This party is giving me a migraine; I feel as if a sandworm is burying into my cranium,” he whispered under his breath to nobody in particular.
You started laughing at his analogy but desperately tried to choke back the sound. You averted your eyes back down to the table, shaking your head as your lips remained curved in a smile. You found it humorous, the sight of a young noble of the great House Atreides so bored and agitated at a very important event he’d even taken part in hosting. You thought it was amusing that he’d decide to start a conversation with you, if you could even call it that.
“...You were not supposed to hear that; I apologize,” he said genuinely after looking up and ogling at you for a few long seconds. Shocked was an understatement; he was bewildered. He had been eyeing you since you arrived, noticing that you had been looking at him as well. He knew who you were; everyone did, but he hadn't realized it was you he had spoken so rudely to. Paul Atreides had seen plenty of pretty women in his years of living; however, none of them seemed to stack up to you in terms of the effect you had. You certainly lived up to the rumors he’d heard about you—you were every bit the desirable daughter of the Emperor. While he typically remained aloof to women in general—as you had observed earlier—he found himself a bit more engaged in your proximity.
“Relax, Atreides. I won't call my Sardaukar troops on you… yet.” You tease, turning towards him and looking into his green eyes. He had a terrifyingly charming face; his hawk-like features and emerald irises made it nearly impossible to look away from him. And his hair… His hair was perfectly tousled, his dark brown curls twisted and twirled in every right direction. Your smile widens; you are fully amused now, thrilled to finally converse with someone of interest to you.
“And when does your highness plan to call them?” Paul posed in a faux-serious manner; his eyes sparkled with tease. He found himself shocked by both the sincerity of your amusement and the boldness of your words, which instantly tells him that you are, in fact, the Imperial princess of House Corrino, and you damn well have authority over him. He leans forward, resting his chin against his hand as he presses an elbow onto the table, regarding you with more attention than he had given any of the other guests this evening. His head tilts to the side as he studies the ineffability of your beautiful face, a lock of his hair falling into his eyes in the process.
“I will call them the next time you refer to me as ‘your highness,’ and I’ll be sure that my troops slice you to bite-sized pieces with their lasguns.” You jest, dramatically clutching your chest, your lips subtly curled upwards in a snarling frown in an attempt at disgust. Your ‘seriousness’ only lasts a couple of seconds before a wide grin returns to your face. Unfortunately or fortunately, it was hard to decide; you were growing more interested in Paul by the second.
“And you seem the type to follow through with your threats… Independent and well-calculated, just like your father.” He mused; his compliment was subtle, but he knew you’d detect it. He smirked at your reaction, bewitched by how your soft lips twitched upwards as you smiled. Yes, he certainly found you intriguing, a bit more than he should have.
“Threats? No, no. Favors, Paul Atreides.” You note back with a sly smirk, directing your attention to four women who were whispering in a circle. You gesture for him to look as well before you lean in and whisper, “It seems that group has taken quite an interest in you, don’t you think? You see that girl in the disappointing yellow-gold dress? That’s a spice smuggler’s daughter, and when I was grabbing a glass of wine from the beverage table, I overheard her sharing all of the things she wanted to do with you tonight.” Your words were woefully true, but you were only speaking them to further tease poor Paul.
“How unfortunate for her, then. I’d rather not associate myself with women of that sort. I have more… discriminating tastes.” Paul replied after biting back a laugh when you mentioned the daughter of the spice smuggler, the last person he’d ever want as a potential betrothed. He turned his gaze back to you as he spoke, his eyes focusing oddly more on your eyes, as if he wanted to memorize the way the colors in your iris blended together and created a reflection of your mind and soul. His stare wandered to your body, noticing how well you’d adorned an elegant dress of the finest silk. The future Duke was so drawn to you he could almost swear that you were a Bene Gesserit witch playing tricks on his mind. You had him enamored. He never wanted this banter to end.
“Discriminating tastes? Oh Paul, do tell,” you replied, a smirk plastered upon your masterpiece of a face. You are definitely enjoying this encounter. Paul Atreides was the only man at this gathering you’d be willing to associate with. You can’t help but glance at his lips every now and then as he grins, the sight so precious you would’ve compensated a painter one million Solaris to replicate his smile. You were falling deeper into whatever this was with each passing moment, prideful to know that you were the only one who could match these discriminating tastes he spoke about.
“My tastes would have me avoid the… gold,” he gestures in the direction of the young lady, “and look towards more… priceless treasures.” He leaned back in his chair, directing his attention back to you. Paul held your gaze, a soft, proud smirk apparent on his face. He knows the implication of his words will be obvious, especially to you. It only took him a few seconds earlier in the beginning of your conversation to pick up on your wit and intelligence.
“Well, it seems you've unfortunately eliminated a hefty majority of the women in this room from your taste profile,” you murmur, a teasing smile lifting the corners of your lips. However, as his words sink in, it grows into a more genuine grin; it seems stars have even started to twinkle in your eyes. You have this Atreides ducal heir wrapped around your finger, and you are quite ashamed to admit that he has the same effect on you as you do on him.
“That must mean fewer opportunities for my taste to be satisfied,” he muses, the playful tone in his voice betraying the sincerity in his eyes. “Perhaps the one I'm speaking to will suffice,” he adds, his lips twitching upwards in a smug grin. Paul now looks at you, the princess of the Great House Corrino, like you're the only woman in the world. His stare is so intense, so prying and intimate, that you feel like a soft blue egg lying in a nest of your mother's feathers high up in a swaying tree, vulnerable.
“Perhaps,” you echo as a means of replying. You lean forward, almost instinctively, and place your elbow on the table, resting your head in your hand. Looking up at the handsome Paul Atreides, you try to dissect his soul through his eyes. Your eyes hinted ‘yes,’ but your tone lied and whispered, ‘We’ll see.’. Is Paul bright enough to pick the correct answer between the two? Hm. Perhaps this party isn’t so boring.
Paul notices the agreement in your eyes and the playfulness in your tone. His gaze holds yours a bit longer before drifting to your perfect, sensuous lips. God, he’d be lying if he said he didn't want more of you. But the most dangerous thing was that you wanted more of him as well. You two look into each other's eyes again for one moment… Two moments—before Paul decides to speak for the both of you.
“I find myself wanting to satisfy my more… carnal tastes,” he admits with no hint of shame; his voice drops to a lower tone, laced with one too many touches of desire as he looks at your lips once more, “if we’re speaking in honesty.” He smirks, his eyes flick back up to yours as he waits for your response.
“Well, Paul Atreides, if we are speaking honestly, I must admit that I would be more than willing to engage in satisfying both our carnal desires. But I… like you.” You whisper, leaning closer as a soft smirk paints itself across your face. “If anything were to happen between us after this party concludes, I wouldn't wish for it to be a one-time thing. However, given our family backgrounds, we’d have to keep this a secret, at least temporarily.”
His eyes widen slightly at your unexpected honesty. He smiles at the thought of your desires, the idea of satisfying them. He is more than intrigued, though slightly wary of your like for him. He leans toward you again, the distance between you narrowing.
“The feeling is shared. I find myself wanting more than just a one-time encounter with you, princess. But I understand your concerns. If we were to partake in… this,” he gestures between the both of you, “it would have to be kept quiet and discreet.” Paul leaned back, contemplating the situation. While his interest in you is undeniably present, he knows the risks and consequences.
“I must admit,” he continues, but his eyes linger on your perfectly sensuous lips, “your beauty is unparalleled. However,” he pauses, meeting his eyes with yours once again, “the implications for our respective houses are not to be ignored.” Paul raises his glass of wine to his nose, giving it a swirl as he observes your reaction. “I don’t want you to mistake my actions as mere carnal desire. I have a genuine interest in pursuing a future with you, he admits, awaiting your response.
You find it excruciatingly hard to hold back a smile as he speaks. Happy was an understatement; you were thrilled to know he really wanted more than just a night of pleasure. While listening to his words and weighing your options, you have settled upon a very unique and possibly crazy idea. After a few more moments of thinking and processing, you speak.
“Well, Paul, it enlightens me to know you'd also like this to go further. I want something meaningful with you. But, as you said yourself, there are some possible negative outcomes that could happen between our houses if anyone discovers… this,” you gesture between you and him. “However, I have a solution. An idea, a plan. With some moments of consideration, I have come upon the fact that the one and only way we can pursue a relationship is through political, strategic marriage between our allying houses,” you propose, still putting the pieces together in your head.
“Marriage,” he echoes; the thought has crossed his mind in his moments of talking to you, but he hadn’t expected you to bring it up so quickly, “that is the only way we could pursue something meaningful without causing scandal or upsetting our houses.” He pauses, his mind processing the consequences and possibilities. “Political and strategic marriages are common. However, there are still questions… What about our personal desires? The physical chemistry between us is undeniable,” he whispered, his voice growing more sensuous by the second.
“Our personal desires would most definitely be quenched if we go through with this. Tonight we shall decide if our desires are worthy of being upheld so we can further discover if we would like to keep this a one-time occurrence or a long-term commitment—if you so wish, of course,” you whisper, subconsciously leaning closer to him. With each and every word he had spoken, you found yourself more inclined to touch him. Paul wasn’t stupid like the other men your age at this party. He was well-calculated, incredibly intelligent, and thoughtful. Oh god. Paul Atreides is already making you fall apart without even touching you yet. You quickly decide, before he could respond, to take a mental step back.
“I pray you don’t believe I’m thinking too irrationally; too far ahead…” You add, “I just can’t help but stare into your green eyes and dream,” you admit, much more than you should’ve. You embarrassedly put a hand on your forehead right after the words roll off your tongue so naturally. You feel oddly vulnerable with him, even though you have just truly met him.
“No, I don’t believe you’re thinking too far ahead,” he reassured you, placing his forearms on the table to lean closer. “Perhaps it’s the wine, or maybe it’s something else,” he admits, his voice softer than ever before. He raises a hand, gently caressing your soft, warm cheek with two long fingers. “I’m also unable to look away from you. There is something about you that I can't ignore, a pull that I can’t resist. I think you know that, princess, he murmured, using your title in a strangely intimate manner. Your words had wrapped around him like a soft, seductive whisper. He could feel your physical proximity, and it was intoxicating; addictive, like spice. Paul couldn't ignore that; he couldn't shake the thought that he needed you in any way you were willing.
me as a kid reading Dune: I appreciate the detailed world-building that justifies why everyone fights with swords and has mental powers, but the idea of a Butlerian Jihad against computers is pretty silly
me in 2025, trying desperately to find the three (3) places you need to go to to disable the latest helpful AI assistant that's inserted itself into my work chat and is advising me to do things that would be a breach of federal law: Oh Now I Get It
You've had a long day at work, the kind that makes you want to kick off your shoes and collapse into bed. As you enter the apartment, you expect the usual quiet embrace of an empty home. But today, there's a sound that catches your attention - the soft scratching of a crayon against paper. Curiosity piqued, you tiptoe down the hallway, following the faint, comforting melody to the kitchen.
There you find Timothee, hunched over a coloring book, crayons scattered like a rainbow on the floor around him. The sight makes you smile, a gentle warmth spreading through your chest. He's so absorbed in his task, so focused on filling the page with bright colors, that he doesn't notice your presence at first. His eyes are wide with childlike concentration, his tongue peeking out from the corner of his mouth. It's a simple, charming scene that you wish you could capture and keep forever.
"Hey, babe," you call out, breaking the silence. He jumps a little, dropping his crayon before turning to look at you with a sheepish grin. "What's this?" you ask, nodding towards the book. He blushes, a hint of shyness playing across his features. "Just... something I found, dunno" he mumbles, avoiding eye contact as he gathers his crayons, his hand slapping the book closed in one go. The innocence in his voice is disarming, making you want to laugh and hug him all at once. You can't help but wonder what's got him acting so vulnerable. It's endearing, really.
As you approach, he quickly snatches up a ragged stuffed animal, a worn-out tiger with one button eye missing, and clutches it to his chest. The action seems almost protective, as if he's afraid you'll take it away from him. "You okay?" you ask, kneeling down to his level. He nods vigorously, but his eyes betray the lie. They're wet with unshed tears, and his bottom lip quivers. You reach out a hand, and he flinches away, scooting back against the cabinets. Panic flutters in your chest. What could have happened to make him so upset?
Without another word, Timmy bolts from the kitchen, stuffy in tow, and runs into your shared bedroom. You follow, heart racing with concern. When you enter the room, he's huddled on the bed, surrounded by his childhood toys. He's whispering to them, rocking back and forth. "Momma won't leave us," he says over and over again, clutching the tiger so tightly its stuffing bulges from the seams. The scene is so unexpected, so heart-wrenching, that you stand frozen in the doorway for a moment, unsure of what to do or say.
Finally, you force your legs to move, crossing the room to sit beside him. He looks up at you, his eyes wide and scared, and you realize that he's not just playing a game. This is something deeper, something he's holding onto with all his might. "What's wrong, babe?" you ask softly, trying to keep the worry out of your voice. He just shakes his head, burrowing into the pillows. "I don't want Momma to leave," he sobs, his voice high and small. You wrap your arms around him, feeling his trembling body against yours. "I'm not going anywhere," you promise, not quite understanding the depth of his fear, but willing to do anything to soothe it.
You pull out your phone, keeping it hidden from his view. You've heard of this behavior before, but only in passing. It's not something you've ever thought would affect Timothee. But as you read the articles, the pieces start to fall into place. The sudden mood swings, the need for comfort, the way he's been talking in the third person about himself. It's all adding up, and you realize that you might have stumbled upon a secret he's been keeping from you. You feel a mix of concern and tenderness, a fierce protectiveness welling up inside you. You're not sure what to do next, but you know one thing for certain: you're going to be there for him, no matter what.
You scoot closer to him on the bed, tucking the blankets around his small frame. He leans into you, his breaths coming in hiccups. "Mommy," he whispers, reaching for the sippy cup in the nightstand. You take it gently, letting his stuffies take your place before kissing the top of his head, walking silently to the kitchen and filling the cup with apple juice from the fridge. It's his favorite, the kind with the little cartoon animals on the packaging, which you never understood, until now. When you finish your trip up the stairs and into the room, you hand it back to him, watching as he takes a tentative sip, his eyes never leaving yours. "It's okay," you murmur, stroking his hair. "You can tell me anything."
He takes a deep breath, his grip on the sippy cup tightening. "I had a bad day," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "And Tim... needed to be tiny.. 'twas too much." The words come out in a rush, as if he's been holding them in for a very long time. You nod, your heart breaking a little at the pain he's been carrying around. "That's okay, Timmo." you say, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Sometimes we all need to be taken care of."
You hold him as he drinks his apple juice, his eyes slowly drooping with the weight of his emotions. His stuffed tiger watches over you both, a silent sentinel of his inner child's fears. You set the cup aside and pick up one of his favorite bedtime stories, the one with the knight and the dragon. "Would you like me to read to you?" you ask, keeping your voice low and soothing. He nods, snuggling closer. As you begin to read, his breathing evens out, and his grip on the tiger loosens. You continue, the words of the story wrapping around him like a warm embrace.
The tale unfolds, a gentle lullaby of bravery and friendship. You watch as the tension drains from Timothee's body, his features relaxing into the semblance of sleep. When the story ends, you tuck the book under his arm, making sure not to disturb him. He's so peaceful now, so vulnerable. You brush a stray tear from his cheek, whispering, "Mommy loves her handsome boy, don't ever doubt that, not for a second, my prince." And with that, you pull the covers up to his chin and press a soft kiss to his forehead, watching as he succumbs to slumber, his trust in you unshaken.
not sure if I like this very much, but you ask and shall receive <33
a/n it's lowkey pissing me off how nowwwww everyone wants to like timmy and they're barely realising how goofy his ass is 😭😭😭 like nah yall weren't here in 2017 gtfo !!!! anyways, im glad a lot of dudes are liking him now too but i still want him to be just for the girls !!!
warnings- cursing, smut, light fingering,dirty talk, if i missed anything let me know!
~~~
Y/n is still waking up when she feels Timothée stretch and pull her closer with his arm around her waist, he hums and kisses her cheek, his finger tracing up and down her arm.
She had spent the night at his place after a movie night, they ordered pizza and made out until they fell asleep.
So a pretty normal night for them.
“Good morning, beautiful.” He whispers, kissing the corner of her mouth as she fully wakes up.
“Good morning, baby.” She smiles, turning her head and softly kissing his lips.
He moans into it and squeezes her waist, sliding his hands down to her thighs, lifting her leg so his fingers can lightly graze her pussy. She moans and reaches behind her to hold his head against hers.
“I want to make you feel good, baby.” He says into her ear, sliding her panties to the side and grabbing his dick, rubbing the tip along her folds and slowly pushing in.
They moan together and he keeps himself stuffed inside her for a minute before he starts slowly thrusting into her.
“You woke up pretty needy today, huh?” She teases, moaning as he lightly touches her clit.
“I always do.” he grunts, kissing her neck, “You do this to me, baby. Every. Fucking. Morning.” He emphasizes each word with a hard thrust, her eyes roll back as she feels every inch of him.
His hand slides underneath her shirt and embraces her boob, playing with her nipple, soft moans leave her mouth and she grips the mattress with her free hand.
He lightly pushes her over onto her stomach, his hips now pressed firmly against her ass as he continues his slow thrusts. She moans as he kisses along her spine, up to her neck, “I love you.” He mutters in her ear, squeezing her ass with one hand.
“I love you too, baby.” She whines, “You always make me feel so good- fuck.” She moans as he reaches that spot inside her.
His hands are on her waist as his thrusts get deeper, “You feel fucking incredible, baby. You’re so tight.” She clenches around him at his words, her eyes rolling back as he hits her g spot again.
His moans are loud in her ear which she loves, it makes her wetter and helps Timothée slide in and out easier, “Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby.”
“Cum inside me, Timmy.” She whines and he thrusts a few more times before releasing inside her, moaning into her neck.
He pulls out and caresses her butt, squeezing it again as he looks at her, “Did you cum?” he pants, crawling over her as she turns onto her back.
She shakes her head, “No, but it’s okay, my love.” She replies, going to sit up but he pushes her back down.
“No it’s not, let me fix that.” He says, kissing her lips and pumping himself a few times to get hard again.
“Need me to do that?” She offers, and he chuckles and leans back for her. She wraps her hand around his cock and softly strokes him, leaning forward and licking the cum and her arousal off his dick.
He groans at that, “Ugh, fuck yeah, baby.” She slowly takes his whole dick in her mouth, slightly gagging as it hits the back of her throat. His cock hardens and her saliva coats it as she pulls it all the way out of her mouth. “You’re a fucking angel.” He sighs, wiping her bottom lip before kissing her.
He pulls away and nudges his nose against hers, “How do you want it?”
“I wanna ride you.” She replies, his cock gets even harder at her words and he moves them so he’s sitting against the headboard and she’s on his lap.
She giggles at his speed and kisses him gently, fully taking off her panties now, tossing them beside her. She goes to rub herself but Timothée stops her hand from its journey, replacing it with his own, he rubs his cum that was slowly leaking out of her around her pussy, and Y/n moans at that, looking down at his hand on her pussy. She reaches down and grabs his cock, rubbing it between her folds before she slowly sinks down on it.
They moan simultaneously, she comes up and slams back down on him, the friction from his pubic bone rubs against her clit, making her moan loudly into his mouth as he makes out with her.
“You feel so good like this.” She moans, her breaths getting heavy as she speeds her movements up. His cock slides in and out comfortably due to Timothées cum inside of her.
Timothée lifts her shirt over her breasts, sucking on one nipple and playing with the other between his fingers. She throws her head back at that, gripping his shoulder as she gyrates her hips against his, her moans get louder and more frequent at the change in movements.
Timothée breathes deeply at the motion and pulls away from her breasts to look up at her, marveling at how she fucks herself on top of him, with her red cheeks and a light layer of sweat now covering her as she moves, “Fuck baby girl, I swear you were sent here just for me. You’re perfect.” he pants, now holding onto her waist, helping her move on top of him.
She whimpers as he hits that spot inside of her, her head falling to his shoulder, “We’re perfect for each other, aren’t we baby?” She moves her hips back and forth against his, his cock repeatedly hitting her g spot, bringing her to the edge, her moans piercing his ears, “Only you can make me cum, my love.” She moves her head down to look between them, moaning again at how his cock is now covered in their mixed arousal.
He gasps, sucking a hickey onto her neck, “I love you. I love you so fucking much it’s actually disturbing.” He says, making her laugh, he slams his hips up into her, causing a yelp to leave her mouth and he grunts, “It’s not funny. I think about you all the fucking time, about your cute little face, your laugh, your pussy, your-” she clenches around him, “fuck- your cooking… everything, baby. I love every single thing about you. You’ve taken over my mind, body, and soul and I’m 100 percent okay with that.”
Her walls once again clench around his cock at his words and she brings her hand down to rub her clit, quickly bouncing her hips, “Fuck, Timmy! I love you. I love you. I lo-” Timothée cuts her off by kissing her deeply, she gasps for breath before returning to his lips, their tongues messily clashing together as she chases her orgasm.
“You’re my fucking soulmate. I’m gonna marry you, I swear.” He moans, moving his hips up to meet with hers. He watches as she rubs her clit and throws his head back as he nears his orgasm.
“Fuck, Timmy. Please-” She gasps, slowing both her hips and her hand down on her clit, “I don’t want this to end yet, baby.”
She usually doesn’t do this, she doesn’t ask for them to slow down. If anything, she asks for him to go harder, or she speeds up when she’s on top. She hates denying herself an orgasm… usually. He hums and eyes her carefully.
“You still wanna be on top?” He quietly asks as they slow their movements, she shrugs and he gently pushes her onto her back, never removing his cock from inside of her.
He hovers over her and begins to slowly move in and out of her, “You’re so fucking wet right now, baby. Fuck- god damn, you’re fucking soaked, honey.”
She moans and caresses his face, “It’s all because of you, Timmy. You and your needy cock.” he chuckles and slams into her for that, eliciting another loud moan, one that they’ll probably get a complaint about tomorrow.
He watches as her breasts bounce with every thrust and grips one of them in his hands, “You’re so gorgeous, baby. I’m so lucky,” she moans at his words, wrapping her hand around his wrist and bringing it to her face, sucking on his fingers, “How did I get so fucking lucky?” He pants, speeding up his thrusts.
“I’m all yours, Timo!” She exclaims, wrapping her legs around him, bringing him in closer and deeper, “Fuck me, Timmy!”
“All mine, darling. All fucking mine. I can’t wait to be your husband.” He grunts, kissing her neck. She clenches around him, moaning directly into his ear.
“You really wanna marry me?” She wonders, shutting her eyes and rubbing her clit once again.
Timothée grunts, slamming into her harder, “Of course I do. I love you more than humanly possible. Do you know how many times I’ve almost proposed to you recently?” He chuckles, looking her in the eyes, she grins and pulls him in for a kiss. A passionate one, one that conveys everything they’re feeling together in the moment.
“I’m so close.” She breathes against his lips, kissing him again as he grunts into it. He moves his hand and substitutes her hand with his, rubbing fierce circles on her clit, her moans now echoing throughout the room, “Fuck, Timmy, harder! Don't stop, please-” She begs and he speeds his hips up, also bringing him closer to the edge. He spreads her legs to the side, watching his cock repeatedly slide in and out of her.
“Your pussy is a blessing, Y/n.” He moans, “Cum around me, baby. Cum with me, my girl.”
She hurriedly nods, “Your cock is a blessing, baby. Fuck- cum in me again, okay? Please, Timmy, fill me up.” She begs, he groans and they cum together, his cock exploding inside her as her body shakes, an earth-shattering orgasm washing over her.
“Fuck!” They yell simultaneously, their foreheads pressed together as his thrusts slow down to a stop. He rubs her clit through it and stays inside her as her moans quiet down.
“That was amazing, baby.” She finally says, running her hands through his hair.
“I think that was our best round yet.” He sighs, kissing her cheek and slowly pulling out, she whines at the loss.
He looks at the mess they made as his cum starts leaking out of her again, “Fuck baby, you're so fucking stuffed, huh?” He can't help but trace his finger along her hole and pick up some of their arousal.
“Mhm.” She sighs, still sensitive. He smirks and brings his finger to her mouth, which she willingly accepts, swirling her tongue around his finger.
He watches in awe, “You're fucking perfect.”
She giggles and gets off the bed, heading for the bathroom, he follows her into it, watching as she brushes her teeth.
It's quiet for a minute until he speaks up, meeting her eyes in the mirror, “I really do think about it all the time... Marrying you.”
She blushes and spits her toothpaste out, turning around to face him, “Yeah?”
He nods, “The most recent time that I was gonna propose was literally last night.” He chuckles, avoiding her eyes as he says that.
She smiles and takes two steps forward, stopping right in front of him, “Hey.” She says quietly, her hand coming up and playing with his hair, he looks up, meeting her eyes, “I'm gonna say yes.” She assures him, he grins and rolls his eyes.
“I- I don't even know why- It- hold on!” He says and rushes back to the room, she giggles and waits in the bathroom, leaning against the sink.
“Babe, come out here!” She hears his voice a minute or two later and slowly walks out.
She gasps as she sees him on one knee holding a velvet box, a candle lit up next to him, and a love song quietly playing in the background.
“I- I know it's not-”
“It's perfect.” She cuts him off, walking up to him.
He smiles up at her, “Will you marry me?”
She grins and enthusiastically nods, “Yes, Timothée, of course!” She answers, tears leaving her eyes as he stands up and takes the ring out, sliding it into her finger.
“It's perfect.” He sighs in relief, wiping her eyes.
She smiles and kisses him with her entire being, wrapping her arms around his neck. He kisses her back with an intensity that she hasn't felt from him before. He pulls away after a minute, “I love you.” He says against her lips, a few tears now falling from his eyes. She kisses him again, not minding the salty taste on his lips.
“I love you more.” She mutters, not wanting to pull away from him.
He rests his forehead against hers and shakes his head, “Not possible, baby.”
feel like there’s overall a push in society to validate “lowbrow” art in a weird way. like the whole phenomenon of booktok defending the right to read trashy romance books (fine) but also wanting it to be seen as on an equal level with actual literature. the push for the oscar’s and other award shows to reward blockbuster movies because obviously how much money a movie makes is directly correlated with its artistic merits. i guess i will go to bat for being a pretentious freak!!!
timmy luvr @ifiguredyoudloveme - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
gracieabrams
origamiaround
gummygunk
germansingergirl
theartofmadeline
yousharknotpass
pixelskylines
amandla
prguitarman
