premise: Returning from a late night of dramatics, you wonder if Timmy is still up, waiting for you, ready to pick back up where you left off.
Pairing: Timothée Chalamet x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff, smutty goodness. Edging, teasing, fingering, Vaginal sex, slapping, choking, oral (F and M-receiving) Timmy himself (THAT’S THE BIGGEST WARNING) for the love of god:THIS FUCKING OUTFIT!!! I think that’s about it, but let me know..
Word Count: 2.8K
A/N: Hello Lovelies 💙 Sorry this took so long, but nonetheless, here she is! I hope you enjoy, let me know what you think! Love ya!!
Again, quick thanks to @gildedneon for the wonderful help she has provided.
After one drink you were fine, but after four, all reason was out the window. Watching Timothée all night, so close yet so far was killing you, not being able to be by his side, touch him, show everyone that he was yours, was torture. The thing was, it was your choice. You had made the decision that you weren’t ready to go public, and he respected that, and so you spent the entire time at the party, watching him from a distance until finally, you left.
Somewhere around four am, after several ignored calls and texts, too focused on being a drama queen, you finally made your way home to him. There was a good chance that when you opened that door, he would be fast asleep, tucked under the covers looking so content, but there was also a chance that it would be quite the opposite. He could be sitting in the plush white chair waiting for you. You would like to think that it was the latter, that he was waiting and ready to continue what he had started earlier, but who’s to say.
You grab your hotel key out from your bra and tap it against the door. As soon as it flashes green, you turn the handle and barrel inside, door slamming closed behind you.
You were correct in your assumption, he was in fact awake, waiting for you, but not sitting, rather standing, pacing. His eyes drift up your body slowly until they meet your eyes. There was no amusement on his face, just annoyance, perhaps a sigh of relief even, but mostly annoyance.
“I'm home,” you smile, trying to contain the giggles that overcome you.
Timothée scoffs, his arms coming to a fold, his stance becoming firmer. He wasn't pleased, that much was clear.
“Where were you?” He asks, keeping his voice level, calm.
He had always been protective of you, but only in the best ways, not the ways that would call for alarm. You sigh, kicking off your heels, pushing them into the hall closet.
“Out,” you shrug.
You were annoyed, annoyed at your own choices, annoyed that you spent what could have been a wonderful night, moping around. However, you weren’t going to admit that it was your fault.
“Out..?” he repeats, running his hand over his face, “You could have at least answered my calls.”
You roll your eyes, making your way closer to him. He could see it, see that there was something bothering you, something that you weren’t going to share unless he asked.
“What's going on? What's wrong?”
That one question was all it took to open the flood gates.
“What's wrong?! This is your fault! That's what's wrong!”
He looks at you in shock, a scowl on his face.
“I’m sorry, what’s my fault?”
You are borderline hyperventilating, arms flailing as you gesture wildly, trying to take all of your jumbled thoughts and put them into words.
“That I’m alone! You’re doing your thing and I’m just off by myself and we’re not together!”
Timothée moves closer to you, brow raised.
“What are you talking about, we are together...”
You begin to pace, words pouring out of you like a burst pipe “We weren’t, we weren’t together and that’s the problem-I know it was my decision, but I don’t like it, I don’t like this.. I don’t like-“
Timothée’s palm lands across your cheek, “look at me,” his hands come up and cup where he struck you, dark eyes looking down at you.
"We are together. Okay? It's you and me, and if you want to tell people, then we tell people." He doesn't give you time to respond before leaning down and pressing a kiss to your lips. Slow and sweet. Pulling away, he offers you a sweet smile. “I’m just glad you're okay.
All of the chaos whirling around in your head comes crashing down. A blush rises to your cheeks as reality seeps in. The flames of embarrassment may have died down, but a new one rose in its place.
“First you bite me, now you’re slapping me..darling, are you trying to turn me on?”
His eyes widen and brows raise at your question. Your hands find his chest, running over the leather. “It's working.” you wink.
Undoing the buttons of his top, you run your hand over the now exposed skin, letting your hand trail all the way down to the waistband of his trousers. Your eyes find his, his brow raised, intrigue on his face. You begin to kiss his chest, up his neck, and he moves his head to give you better access. As you kiss and suck marks into his soft skin, your hand toys with the waistband, slipping lower. You palm him through the fabric of his pants, smirking at the soft groan he gives you.
Reaching his ear, you whisper, “I want to taste you,” tugging his earlobe.
Timothée lets out a breathy sigh. You pull back to see his lidded eyes, full of lust. Leaning in, you ghost your lips over his, before pulling away. Slowly, you get on your knees in front of him, undoing his trousers, and pulling them down, just enough for his length to spring free. Thick, hard, and dripping precum. You lick your lips, looking up at him, seeing the way he melts at the sight of you.
“Hands off the hair, babe, kay?” You smirk. Timothée scoffs, rolling his eyes with a smile. “No, I want to hear you say it.” you continue.
“Hands off, I get it,” he chuckles.
You wrap your hand around his length working it slightly before you take him into your mouth. He tastes good and you make sure he knows it, moaning as you run your tongue along the underside of his shaft. Your jaw strains as you go to work. His head falls back and you clench at the sight of his curls, framing his face. Watching the way he loses himself in your mouth is mesmerizing. It’s a heady feeling, having that much control. Timothée’s hand winds its way into your hair out of habit. Allowing him to guide your head with his grip for a minute before you pull off of him, standing up, and licking your lips. His head is cocked in confusion, as he fixes you with a narrowed look. With a wink, you turn and head towards the bedroom.
“Are you serious?”
“I don’t make the rules, Timothée,” mocking his words with a shrug.
Smiling to yourself, you hear a scoff from behind you, and then all of a sudden your back is pushed against the wall, hand around your throat, holding firm. His eyes scan your face, resting on your lips, he moves closer, so when he talks you feel his lips brush against yours.
“You are such a fucking tease..” he growls.
His lips find yours, catching them in a hard, hungry kiss. His tongue pushes past your lips and into your mouth, exploring it. With his thigh wedged between yours, you roll your hips against it, chasing a high, friction, anything. At the feeling of you, he pushes his thigh harder against your cunt, causing you to gasp. The pressure begins to build inside you, as his lips break from yours, moving to kiss along your jaw, down your neck. The hand around your throat moves to caress your breast, rolling the perked nipple between its fingers. Shivers spread through you, racing along your spine, as you try to catch your breath. Gently palming your breast, his hand moves down the length of your body, down your side, stopping just below the hem of your dress. His hand moves up under your dress with fervor, inching its way straight to your throbbing core. He moves his thigh away and brings his fingers to flick through your folds quickly, not giving you time to register before he’s sliding two fingers deep into your cunt, stroking your walls as he thrusts and curls them, hitting that sweet spot. Your body is on fire, each nerve ending set a flame.
He is quick to add his thumb to the mix, sparking pleasure from your clit.
Pulling away, he licks his fingers and drops to his knees in front of you. Grabbing your leg, he swings it over his shoulder. Timothée hikes your dress up, before bringing his mouth to your needy cunt. A sigh of pleasure leaves your lips at the feeling of his tongue working against you. Your hands find his hair, tangling your fingers in the dark locks, tugging with every wave that hits you. The feeling of his tongue lapping against your clit, renders your legs weak. They beg to give out when you feel his tongue thrusting inside you, creating a sweet rhythm. Worked up from the night’s events, it’s a matter of minutes before your orgasm comes roaring in, legs trembling, head falling back against the wall for some sense of support. Your body weak, but begging for more, begging for him.
After a few more strokes of his tongue, he pulls away, coming back up to meet you, his thin frame towering over you. His eyes trail your blissed-out face, just before he kisses you. You can taste yourself on his lips, his tongue and it delights you. Desire flutters in your stomach, a need for him. Timothée’s hands pull the sheer dress off of you, discarding it, letting it get lost for the night. He pulls away from you, his hand coming up to grasp your face, leaning in.
“Get on the bed. Now,” he demands. Pulling you off the wall, he steps aside, giving your ass a proper smack, watching as you make your way to the bed. You crawl onto the mattress, wiggling your hips as you look back at, taunting him. Your eyes meet his, watching closely as he tries his best to maintain his composure. Stripping down, he moves to the bed. Finding his spot behind you, he grabs your hips. He runs his tip through your folds, letting it nudge against your aching clit.
“Use your words,” Timmy teases.
“Timmy please…” you breathe, pushing yourself back against him, chasing some sense of friction. His hands find your hips, the cool silver of his rings cutting into you in a delicious fashion.
“Thank you, that's what I’ve been waiting for. For you to use your words.” he goads. Lining himself up with your entrance, and with one deep thrust, he fills you completely. You sigh in tandem at the delicious ache that washes over you. Your walls tighten around him, holding on to him like a vice, a perfect fit. Even with the expertise of his fingers and tongue, nothing could compare to the feeling of being filled like this.
“Always so fucking tight,” He moans, drawing himself back, nearly pulling all the way out of you, before he thrusts back in, knocking the air from your lungs. You fall forward, chest flat against the mattress, arms outstretched, whilst your fingers clutch the blankets, your only tether to reality. Your mind is rendered drunk as you focus on the unhurried roll of his hips against your ass and the steady strokes of his cock inside of you.
Moans fall from your red-painted lips, along with breathy moans, each time he hits that spot inside you.
“Fuck! Timmy,” you gasp.
Pushing your hips back against him, you need to feel him deeper inside of you. Crude sounds and heavy breaths fill the room. Your body was burning. Your face flush at the desire coursing through you. Your nipples harden, brushing against the fabric of the blanket.
“Fuck, you feel amazing, taking me so well.”
Your fingers tangle tighter in the sheets, letting out a soft moan as he picks up his pace. The slap of his hips settles, as he starts to savor his thrusts.
“Get down here. I want to ride you,” you exhale.
Timothée sinks down onto the bed, and you quickly climb on top of him, straddling his waist. Like always, your heart flutters at the sight of him underneath you. He looked picturesque, beautiful dark curls falling against the contrasting white linens, pupils blown, perfect lips parted. Exquisite. You grab his length, smiling to yourself at the sharp inhale that he expresses at the contact. You line him up to your entrance, slowly sinking down onto him, watching his face contort, and the pleasure takes over. Your mouth falling open once more at the delicious stretch of him.
Timothée, far too impatient, grabs your hips, pulling you down onto the remainder of him.
“F-fuck, I thought I was doing this..” you huff.
“Taking too long,” he moans, pulling you so that he’s nestled deep inside you. Soon enough, you take back control, bouncing on his cock, agonizingly slow.
“Mon amour…” Timothée looks at you through lidded eyes, brows knitted. He looked as though he wanted more, needed more but wasn’t lucid enough to ask for it.
“Use your words, Timothée.. What do you want?” You tease, rolling your hips against his, you lean down, just enough to keep riding his tip. “What do you want, my love?” you kiss along the sharp edge of his jaw, and down his neck. Sucking, biting, and then soothing it with the brush of your tongue. You watch his eyes flutter shut in a moment of ecstasy as you continue your slow torturous tease. You wrap your hand around his throat, giving it a firm squeeze, urging him to open his eyes.
“I wan-,” he pauses, opening his eyes to look at you, “I want you to fuck me,” he breathes. With one more kiss, you sit yourself back up, taking his length fully. His hands are firm on your hips, aiding your movements, as you begin to set a steady pace, bouncing on his cock.
You never could last long like this, either of you. Timothée was at your mercy the moment he kissed you, but as soon as his cock filled you, he had surrendered, and you..you melted the moment he touched you.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” you sigh out.
His fingers grip your hips tighter, his nails leaving crescent-shaped indents in your skin, a delicious sting. His hand finds the apex of your thighs, his thumb adding to your pleasure as he toys with your clit. The coiling sensation in your stomach builds with each push of his cock. He was completely mesmerized, eyes full of lust as he watched you in your blissed-out states, seeking your high, breasts bouncing with every jolt of your hips. Your hair was a disheveled mess, a film of sweat glistened on your skin, perfect, you were perfect.
“God, you’re so beautiful,” he moans.
You look down at him, his pupils blown, chest heaving, and the biggest grin on his face. In your mind, he was the one who looked beautiful.
“Thank you darling, but I’m so close, so stop talking,’ you breathe.
Watching as his mouth opens to interject, your hand flies down, covering his mouth, your grip on his throat still firm. You pick up your pace, focused on the climax mounting inside you, crying out as you feel that coil snap. Your body reels, your senses grow blurry as shockwaves of pleasure fill you. White-hot lightning burns through you, as you reach your high. Your walls fluttering around his length is all the push he needed to follow right after you. Your hips continue their slow, sloppy roll, riding out the waves.
Timothée’s eyes roll back, as he empties himself into you. Letting a string of curses and sinful moans past his lips. His hands still gripped tightly at your waist, keeping you anchored to his pleasure.
The stimulation finally becomes overwhelming and you collapse onto his chest, relinquishing your grip on him. Timothée’s arms cradle you, holding you tightly against his slick torso. You can hear the beat of his heart racing in his chest, as he catches his breath.
Timothée gently lifts you off of him and pulls you to lay beside him. With your arm resting on his chest, leg thrown over his waist, you look up at him, “I’m sorry about that.” you sigh. Timothée lets out a soft chuckle.
“Don’t be, I enjoyed myself.” he winks, moving to press a kiss to your lips, and another to your forehead, looking down at you with a smile. “Now go to bed, mon amour.”
You nuzzle your head into his chest. “I love you,” you yawn, your eyes falling shut.
