#Timothee Chalamet x y/n | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ijustwantogohomehogwarts · 8 months

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l o o k | a t | m e

l o o k | a t | m e

Y/n and Tim are sharing a very intimate moment, and he wants nothing more than for her to look at him. Let's be honest, who doesn't want to look at him?!

Warnings and such: ummm yeahhhh....absolutely smutty...soft smut, but still smut! 18+ no minors. Some swearing and mentions of spit...definitely not proofread! let me know if I missed something?

A/N: I have a lot of smut written in general and I like it better than the soft stuff, but i like soft stuff! Not sure how I feel about this one so lmk!

ALSO: lmk what other tags i should add to these posts!

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"Look at me."

His voice was gentle but demanding, the echo of his words like a lifeline to drag me back to reality, out of this incoherent but beautiful headspace.

Look at me

Like a soft echo, something to focus on. His voice.

My back arched and hips rolled. I felt like I was on fire, and I was loving every moment of it. As I tried with any strand of willpower I had left to open my eyes, the vision of Timothée came into focus. He was beautiful. He was always beautiful, but this was a different kind of beautiful.

"Look at me," He repeated, smiling softly down at me.

With pleasure.

A few moments passed, or maybe a few hours, before my eyes grew heavy again, vision blurred as I fought against rolling my eyes back with pleasure.

I gasped loudly, a string of groans following instantly as he bent over me, his hips burrowing into mine as he thrusted deeper into me. My legs wrapped tightly around his lower back, hands clawing desperately at him. I thought, for a moment, I would die if I lost the feeling. He dropped to his elbows, caging me below him and began trailing sloppy kisses across my neck and chest, interrupted only by feverish pants and profanities which presented themselves as deep groans through gritted teeth.

"T-Tim," I gasped again, feeling his hips roll in an effort to get impossibly further inside me. My nails dug into his back before reaching for his shoulders.

I was desperate. I could feel it coursing through my body. Close wasn't close enough.

Sweat dampened curls bounced in front of my eyes and tickled my nose when he took a moment to look down at where our bodies met. That was one of his favorite sights in the world. My hand reached higher, tugging the hair at the top of his head- I needed his eyes on me. I needed him to watch me come undone beneath him. He obliged.

One hand snakes it's way under my shoulder, pulling me down to meet his thrusts. There was no way of possibly being any closer, but everything was worth a try. My hips rolled up again, head back and my shut tightly. I opened my mouth, desperate to scream out the tingling sensation that rumbled in my stomach, but nothing came out. My breath quickened and I managed a moan, but nothing near what I was feeling on the inside.

"Look...at me," Tim repeated, panting between thrusts. His arm left my shoulder, finger trailing lightly down my stomach until he reached the bundle of nerves I had between us. I didn't need to open my eyes to see the smirk on his face, but my eyes opened quickly at the warm feeling of fluid that wasn't my own landing just above where I needed him to touch me. I looked down and watched as he spit drooled again, thumb collecting it and pressing harshly against me.

I was done.

I screamed, legs shaking around him as my orgasm washed over me. He continued to fuck me through it, wave after wave of pleasure consuming my body. It was almost too much. Almost.

"Fuck!" He grunted loudly, fingers digging into my hips as he chased his own release.

The room was silent, aside from the two of us desperately trying to catch our breaths. There was no more moaning, groaning or echoing of skin against skin. I whimpered as he pulled out of me, the empty feeling consuming all of my thoughts. I hated it. Tim ran a finger up my slit, collecting whatever juices spilled out on the tip of his finger.

"Open,"

I did as I was told, the salty taste in my throat sent a new wave of excitement through my. I fought, again, to open my eyes, to take in the sight of him- sweaty and restless and fucked. Though heavy eyelids I watched him stand, pull on a pair of long forgotten boxers and run his hands though his hair. He smiled when he caught sight of me staring.

"Pretty baby," He whispered, climbing back in bed and straddled my still shaking hips. "you alright?"

"Mhmm," I mumbled, not sure if I could remember how to talk.

He smiled and bent over me, feather light kisses trailing across my face, down my neck and across my collarbones. His hair, once again, ticking my nose. I ran my fingers gently up and down his back, soothing the raised lines and crescent shaped bumps I had left against his skin. They'd be gone my morning, almost entirely anyway, but for the rest of the night, each touch was reminder and heated my body with excitement and anticipation.

"Come on," his voice echoed in my ears again as he spoke, climbing off of me again. "Let's get cleaned up."

I didn't move. I couldn't. I wanted more.

"Y/n," He cooed again. "Look at me..."

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andy-15-07 · 1 month

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If you’re inspired could you do a fic about Paul Atreides and Y/N’s first night as enemies to lovers? Like they hate each other but they’re in an arranged marriage? Maybe Y/N is scared of the pain she’ll experience during sex? Would love fluff at the end…

Thanks!

From Enemies to Lovers

masterlist ! pairing: Paul Atreides x reader

Dune Masterlist

In the grand halls of the Atreides palace on Arrakis, a tense atmosphere hung in the air as Paul Atreides, the young heir to House Atreides, stood before his bride-to-be, Y/N. The marriage between their families had been arranged as a political alliance, a union meant to strengthen their houses in the turbulent times ahead. But for Paul and Y/N, the prospect of marriage was fraught with tension and resentment.

As they stood face to face, their gazes locked in a silent battle of wills, Paul could sense the fear and apprehension emanating from Y/N. He knew that she harbored doubts and insecurities about their impending union, just as he did. But duty and honor compelled them to carry on with the charade, to fulfill the obligations thrust upon them by their families.

"Y/N," Paul began, his voice tinged with a hint of resignation, "I understand that this marriage is not of our choosing. But we must make the best of it, for the sake of our houses."

Y/N's eyes flashed with defiance, her resolve unyielding. "I will do my duty, Paul, but do not expect me to pretend that I am happy about this arrangement."

And so, on their wedding night, as they found themselves alone in the opulent chambers of the Atreides palace, the tension between Paul and Y/N was palpable. Neither knew what to expect, their hearts heavy with the weight of obligation and uncertainty.

As they stood on opposite sides of the room, their silence filled with unspoken words and unresolved emotions, Y/N's fear threatened to overwhelm her. She had heard stories of the pain and discomfort that awaited her on her wedding night, and the thought sent shivers down her spine.

Sensing her apprehension, Paul approached her slowly, his movements cautious yet determined. "Y/N," he said softly, "I understand if you are afraid. But I promise to be gentle with you. We are in this together, whether we like it or not."

Y/N met his gaze, her eyes searching his for any sign of deceit or malice. But all she found was sincerity and understanding, a rare glimmer of compassion in the midst of their tumultuous circumstances.

With a shaky breath, Y/N nodded, her walls beginning to crumble under Paul's reassuring presence. "Thank you, Paul," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... I will try to trust you."

And so, as they lay together on the bed, their bodies trembling with anticipation and uncertainty, Paul and Y/N embarked on a journey that would forever alter the course of their lives. With each tentative touch and whispered caress, the barriers between them began to fade, replaced by a newfound connection forged in the fires of adversity.

As their bodies moved together in a dance of longing and desire, Paul and Y/N found solace in each other's arms, their fears and doubts melting away in the heat of passion. In that moment, they were no longer enemies bound by duty, but two souls united by love—a love that had blossomed from the ashes of conflict and resentment.

And as the first light of dawn filtered through the window, bathing the room in a soft golden glow, Paul and Y/N lay entwined in each other's embrace, their hearts overflowing with a newfound sense of peace and belonging. For in each other, they had found not only love, but also the courage to defy the expectations of their world and forge their own destiny together.

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bonesandchalamet · 10 months

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slumber party - t.chalamet

masterlist

requested: y - “Hii, could you make one about Timothée and reader having a toddler,and just pure fluff please 🫶🏻”

pairings: dad!timothee chalamet x mom!reader

warnings: fluff + child has been given a name + established relationship

a/n: this is short I’m sorry love!

silence never fills the walls of your New York apartment anymore— at least not since aurora, your daughter, was born.

her presence has been a blessing, there’s no doubt to that, but when the silence exists it’s deafening. which is why you’re concerned at six am when the pitter-patter of little feet against the hardwood floor is nonexistent. she’s only four, you think to yourself, there’s no way she’s learned to sleep in yet.

Timothee, your husband, is dead asleep beside you. he couldn’t of heard a tornado hit with the way he sleeps, and you don’t blame him. work and production of the upcoming films he was in were beginning to start, and sleep was lacking with not only a toddler, but work.

so yes, he had his reasons to sleep in, but aurora didn’t.

you heave out a worried sigh, throwing the blankets off your body, exposing you to the cool air of the room. you slip on your slippers and trudge down the hall towards her bedroom. the homemade sign of her name Timothee made hangs loose on the door, the stickers her and Pauline stuck to the wood were fading, but stuck like glue. you push open the door carefully, to see her blinds are pushed open already, and she’s dressed herself.

“aurora,” your groggy voice jolts her head from the book in her lap, it’s timothees copy of dune that she stole because it reminder her of him. he spent months in the desert thinking of you two, and she spent months pretending the fat book in her lap was readable.

“mommy, is daddy awake?” she slips off the bed, book falling open onto the ground, she brushes past you headed straight for your bedroom door that’s closed. she doesn’t give you a second to reply, the man in the cozy bedroom is all she cares about and you don’t blame her. his presence was absent due to filming, any chance she got cozying up with him was a win in her book

you don’t have in your heart to warn her that he’s sleep. she’s already pushed open the door and by the time you slip into the dark room, she’s made herself comfortable in his arms. he’s barely awake, but when he felt her finger poke his chest, he unconsciously lifted his arms up.

you slip back under the sheets, turning in bed to look at the two. their mouths part the same way, their strains of curly brown hair fall over their faces in the exact same way.

you watch his eyes flutter open for a brief minute, he takes a look down at her, and then at you. your eyes are shut once again, forehead touching auroras, the two of you are sound asleep, and he doesn’t hesitate to sink further into the mattress and let sleep wash over him.

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lola-la-cava · 11 months

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Met ‘23

Timothée Chalamet x Reader

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

“Y-yeah, don’t even worry about it. Who needs air?. Just… keep going” I say as they continue to tighten the corset. I grip my waist, sucking up as much air as I can.

All of a sudden, I hear a familiar voice tsk. The women helping me with my dress backs up, causing the piece of clothing to loosen.

“Did she put you up to this?”, he asked the woman. She nodded.

“Traitor!”

He laughs at my quip and comes up to kiss my cheek. “You look beautiful”

Timothée looks me up and down, examining the dress and taking my hand to twirl me. “You don’t look half bad yourself.” I giggle.

The curly haired boy gasped, “Half bad? Come on! Give me a little more credit!”

“Ah fine! You look gorgeous!” I praise, getting my body close to his to pull him in for a needed kiss.

“Ah, ah, ah. I’m not done yet! Couldn’t keep your hands to yourself, huh, lover boy?” my make-up artist comes to pull us apart and retouching my lipstick.

“How could I?” he stared at me with a love sick stare that I didn’t quite notice at the time.

Timothée hears a quick snap!from the camera. He whips his head around to see one of the photographers catch the perfect moment.

“Whoops” the guy shrugged.

“You people are sickening!” my assistant screamed from the other side of the room.

Timothée answers back, “Jealous much, Meg?”

“Ha. ha.” she teased. “I happen to enjoy being all alone, thank you very much”

I playfully roll my eyes at her antics. “Yeah, sureee”

“Aaalright, Y/N you’re set!” She pats my cheek as I look at her with grateful eyes.

Timothée’s arms wrap around my front once again as soon as she let go. His head resting on my shoulder, kissing my neck

“I just hope lover boy here doesn’t ruin your make-up”

“No promises” he giggles as he playfully placed wet kisses on the side of my head.

“I swear, you will never hear the end from me if you do” she warns him.

“Now, get on out there. Tons of people are expecting you”

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

Ah, the calm before the storm.

Well, as calm as it can get. Which was not very.

They stood in the line before getting their pictures taken. Celebrities in extravagant clothing surrounded them. Some familiar faces present that Y/N took note to say hello to later on.

Y/N smoothed over her dress and brought her hand up to fix her hair again. Timothée noticing this, he interrupted her movement and took her hand. He squeezed it three times before kissing it.

I love you.

She took her hand back and grabbed her phone from a discreet pocket on the dress.

She scrolled aimlessly through social media, trying to get feeling of impending doom of my mind.

Her eye catches a random headline from an entertainment news update account. It read:

‘Timothée Chalamet and Kylie Jenner hard launching their relationship at tonight’s Met Gala? Y/N Y/L/N left in the dust?’

She lets out an obnoxious scoff. Timmy hearing it, he looks at her screen, reading the obviously made-up headline.

“God, they’re still on that?”

He notices his partner’s silence. “Come on. You’re not really bothered by this, are you?”

She opened her mouth to say something. No words came out. She merely shrugged.

He gripped her shoulders and pulled her in for a bear hug. Timothée rested his head on hers as she got close to his chest, hearing the comforting beat of his heart that never failed to comfort her.

The couple stayed like that. “Trust me, mon coeur. I wouldn’t have this any other way. I’m perfect where I am and who I’m with”

“Shit, I actually might cry. I never know what to say when you say this sappy shit”, Y/N chuckles as she puts her hand up to mess with his styled hair.

Feeling her hand creeping his back, Timmy pulls away and bows. “I aim to please you. It’s my sole purpose in life”

A smile instantly appeared on her face and butterflies in her stomach. Nothing had definitely changed from when they first started going out. Same sparks, same chemistry, same tension. Whatever you wanna call it. It was there. They had it.

She tugged on his hand, pulling him in for one more kiss. Y/N looked at him, looking over the features she admired so much that she practically memorized them. Her gaze lands on his lips.

Some of her lipstick and gloss had transferred to his lips. She quickly tried to get the makeup off. “Shit, wait hold on. You have some-“

He smacks her hand away. “No, no. Keep it.” He rubbed his lips together getting the substance to cover all ground.

“Y/N Y/L/N and Timothée Chalamet? They’re ready for you.”

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

“Right now, I’m here with everyone’s favourite couple, Timothée Chalamet and Y/N Y/L/N” Emma, the interviewer, spoke with enthusiasm.

We’d just finished the carpet and were almost home free. Camera flashes blinded my vision as I tried not to close my eyes throughout the whole thing. Screams of my name were heard throughout the venue. Meddlesome questions and controlling demands to pose a certain way were yelled. To which, I didn’t respond to. Why should I? I maintained my balance by holding onto Timothée. You’d think after a few years, you’d get used to the bordering aggressive personalities you have to deal with every single day.

It turns out not really.

“How does it feel to be back? I mean, you guys have gone before, but how does it feel to be here as the quote-unquote, it couple?”

Me and Timmy both give awkward chuckles as we heard the last two words.

“Uh- I really don’t know about that last part, but it just feels great to share such a meaningful moment with him. I’ve personally dreamed of attending since I first saw it as a kid and to be invited for the second time… It’s just… yea”, I answer, not being able to expound on the statement.

Emma hums and gains back the mic.

“So, rumors have been swirling about the internet that actually said othewise. Do you have anything to say about that?” She points the microphone at Timothée this time, definitely hinting at the Kylie rumors.

He seems taken aback by the question, not knowing what to say and the only thing I’m able to do was squeeze his hand. Three times.

I love you.

Emma realizes this with a regretful look on her face. She leans toward both of us as she moves the mic away.

“It’s totally fine if you guys aren’t comfortable. We could just mov-“

He takes the mic, she gives him a grateful small smile.

“No, I uh, me and Y/N have actually seen a handful of tweets about this and I just wanna set the record straight and say we are very much still together”, he nods as he hands the microphone back to her.

“I think I’m right by saying that this has definitely relieved viewrs at home and me.” We laugh genuinely at her quip.

I imagine people on Twitter have stopped adding fuel to the fire after what he said and can have a better goodnight’s sleep later in the evening.

“And that’s our time. I’ll see you lovebirds inside! Have a great time together!”

We both shook her hand and left with an indebted expression for keeping it mellow (for the most part) after such a nerve-wracking red carpet.

“Very professional with that answer, Chalamet”, I hook my arms with his and leaned on his shoulder.

“Of course, ‘gotta remind everyone you’re still my girl”, he says with a smug smirk.

I laugh, “Your girl? I suppose that means you’re my boy?”

He playfully rolls his eyes. “Come on! As if you didn’t know that from the beginning”

“Ohhh, I know. I just wanted to hear it from your mouth!”

#timothee chalamet fic #timothee x reader #timothée chalamet imagine #timothée chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet x y/n #timmy chalamet #timothee fanfic #timothee imagine #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet x you #timothee chalamet fanfic #timothee x y/n #timothee x you #timothee chalamet fluff #timothee chalamet imagines

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houseofchalamet · 1 year

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Biggest Fan

Pairing: Timothee Chalamet x f!Reader Summary: Reader has been absolutely filthy in the DMs and when she meets Timothée unexpectedly, he wants her to make good on her promises. Warnings: Smut (oral - male receiving), sexualizing a celebrity, technically a power imbalance, curse words. Word count: 2k

There was no way he’d ever see your DMs. He probably got thousands of messages a day; yours would get lost in a sea of countless others. And he was rarely ever on Twitter…

Still, you’d occasionally send some DMs anyway, just for the hell of it. It started tame. Telling him how much you loved his work, how excited you were for the next Dune movie… Small things like that.

And then the thirst started.

It was all because of the Oscars… The damn Oscars. God, he looked so good. You felt like you were going to explode the second the shirtless image of him appeared on your TV screen. In the heat of the moment, you whipped out your phone and began typing every lewd thought that popped into your head.

Everything about him was perfect, from his hair down to the smallest details, like the rings on his fingers. You drank in every image you could find of his bare chest. Before you knew it, you were composing the nastiest paragraph you’d ever written in your life (up until that point, at least) and hitting send without a second thought.

God, it’s almost unfair how perfect you are. You’re so fucking sexy in your sparkly little jacket. I wanna taste every inch of you. I want you to fuck my mouth and make me gag on your cock. I want your cum running down my throat. I want you to fuck me so hard and fast that all I know is your name. I want you to absolutely obliterate me. I wanna be your personal fuckdoll… I’m fucking dripping just thinking about it. I need you inside me so fucking bad. I’m such a needy slut for you.

That was just the first one, and as time went on, they grew more graphic. It became an outlet, a way to get all of this sexual energy out. Your messages ranged from short, innocent sentences to long, erotic paragraphs detailing all of the depraved things you wanted him to do to you.

But he’d never see it.

Right?

***

The club was full of drunk, sweaty bodies. You were perfectly content to stand in the corner all night with your best friend, Jess, and sway to the music, feeling the bass vibrate through the floor.

“Hey, isn’t he that guy you’re so obsessed with?” Jess asked, pointing discreetly to a group of guys in the corner.

Your jaw dropped as you realized you were standing in the presence of the Timothée Chalamet. He was with a group of friends and appeared to be having a good time. Your heart began to race in your chest.

“Come on,” Jess said, taking in your stunned appearance. She tugged your hand, starting to lead you in his direction, but you pulled back.

“Are you fucking insane? I can’t just walk right up to him, I’ll literally drop dead on the spot.”

“Okay, fine, don’t talk to him.” She held back a laugh at your outburst. “But you know if you don’t at least stand in the same general vicinity as him, you’ll hate yourself forever.”

Damn. You hated when she was right.

You both weaved through the crowd, strategically placing yourselves closer and closer every few moments without making it too obvious.

You fought the urge to keep glancing at him, though all you wanted to do was drink in his appearance. You weren’t sure you’d ever get the chance to see him in person again.

Jess was talking about something Britney had said to her earlier - you weren’t really paying too much attention - when you tried to steal a glance at exactly the wrong moment.

His eyes met yours.

And instead of looking away and pretending nothing had happened like a normal person would in this circumstance, you froze. Your eyes widened, giving you a slight deer-in-the-headlights expression. He broke into that adorable, lopsided smile you loved so much.

Then, to your surprise, he started moving toward you.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” you whispered to Jess.

“Wha-”

“Hey, I’m Timothée,” he said. Jess’s eyes widened, too, as she processed the situation. Holy fuck he was so close, you could smell him now. And he smelled good.

“I… I know,” you replied stupidly, the awe evident in your voice.

“I’m Jess, and this is (Y/N),” she stepped in for you. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

“You too,” he smiled. His eyes flicked back to you. His brow furrowed and his head tilted to one side as he took you in, but after a few seconds, he shook his head. “Sorry, have we met before?”

“Umm…” You pretended to think for a second, even though you’d definitely remember if you’d met this literal god before. “Nope, I don’t think so.”

“Hm… Weird. I thought I recognized you from somewhere.”

You shrugged this off; he’d probably met so many fans in so many countries, there was bound to be at least one other girl somewhere who somewhat resembled you.

He was extremely nice and offered to take photos with you. He hung around to chat for a few minutes before excusing himself back to his friends. Besides your general awkwardness - which he was probably used to, judging by the way he easily brushed it off - the interaction couldn’t have gone any better.

“He’s literally my future husband,” you told Jess dreamily as you both watched him walk away.

“Not if I marry him first,” she joked.

“Hey! At least share!” You pouted.

She jokingly stuck her tongue out at you, and then her eyes scanned the room. “Well, if my marriage to Timmy doesn’t pan out, I think I just found his replacement. Mind if I go dance?”

“Nah, go right ahead,” you replied. You leaned against a wall, focusing on your phone. You posted your photo with Timmy to Instagram, and then popped onto Twitter to make the photo your profile pic. Your moots were about to go feral. For a moment, your thumb hovered over the messages icon.

Ah, why not?

Hot sweatpants, cutie. I’ll make you sweat and pant;)

You chuckled a little to yourself. God, that was a cringey one. Still, it was just for your entertainment, so why not?

You continued scrolling through Twitter, enjoying your fifteen minutes of fame as you were bombarded by a million questions, each more unhinged than the last (‘What did he smell like?’ ‘Who was he with?’ ‘Did you lick his hand? I would’ve licked his hand’ etc). You were in the middle of replying to someone when you heard a voice beside you.

“I know where I recognized you from!”

Your eyes met his green ones and your breath caught in your throat. You weren’t expecting any more attention from Timothée, but obviously welcomed it.

“Where’s that?” you asked, trying to be nonchalant. He pulled up his phone and showed you the screen.

Your eyes widened and your mouth dropped open. You were horrified as you took in Timothée’s view of your DM’s. He must have turned his read receipts off. He didn’t seem to notice your embarrassment as he scrolled up in the conversation a little.

“This is one of my favorites, ‘My ass is grass and I want you to mow it.’ Or that time you just sent the link to Deep Throat by Cupcakke.”

“Oh, god,” you said, putting your head in your hands. You couldn’t even deny that it was you; the profile picture gave you away. You wanted to spontaneously combust. “I didn’t think you’d actually see that.”

“I could tell…” he chuckled. Thankfully, he scrolled past your more… needy messages and focused on the ironic ones. “‘I would let you break my back in half, spit in my mouth, dislocate my jaw, pee on me, rip out my intestines, and then hit me with your car and I’d still be your biggest fan.’”

“Ugh, God,” you groaned.

He smirked at you and you swore his eyes flicked down to your lips for a split second. When he spoke again, the joking tone had disappeared. “You think you’re my biggest fan?”

Your mouth opened but no words came out. You drew in a sharp breath. “I- uh… y-yeah.”

His voice dropped dangerously low; you were sure no one else could hear. “Would you be willing to prove it?”

His words swam around in your head and you struggled to make sense of them. Surely, you had misunderstood… You blinked, watching as his tongue swiped over his lips.

“Absolutely.”

Before you could even process what was happening, he had taken your hand and led you down a hallway, somehow unseen by anyone else. He slipped you into a bathroom and shut the door behind you both.

Pressing you against the door, he attached his lips to yours.

You felt yourself relax into him as he kissed you deeply. Suddenly, your shy side had disappeared and in its place stood the horndog who had written all those DMs. You gently bit his bottom lip and he wound his arms around your waist, pulling you even closer. You slipped your tongue into his mouth and he ground against you. You practically moaned; he was already hard. You reached down, stroking him through his pants. He was just as big as you’d imagined.

You pushed him back until he was leaning against the sink and were on your knees in an instant, tugging down his sweatpants. You licked your lips as his dick sprang free.

“Love reading your desperate little messages over and over again…” he sighed, his head dropping back a little as you stroked him slowly.

“Mmm… Yeah?” you smirked, taking the tip between your lips and sucking lightly. His eyes rolled back and his mouth dropped open as he gripped the counter for support. You could tell he was restraining himself from bucking his hips up into you.

“Fuuuuckkk yeaaah,” he hissed. Slowly, teasingly, you began to descend on him. “God, I jack off nearly every day to them… Love seeing how needy you are for me.”

Your brain practically stopped working; the situation you found yourself in was too good to even begin to comprehend. Timothée Chalamet had just admitted to enjoying your depraved fantasies while his dick was in your mouth. Your pussy was dripping.

You hummed in response, hollowing your cheeks and bobbing your head torturously slow. He seemed to understand the game you were playing and was happy to give you more.

“Sometimes I go onto your profile and scroll through your selfies and imagine fucking you just like you want me to.” One of his hands weaved into your hair, but he didn’t apply any pressure just yet. You took all of him in your mouth now, his tip nudging the back of your throat. You came back up slowly, running your tongue along the bottom of his shaft.

“Fuck,” he hissed again. You started to bob your head faster now. After a few moments, his restraint wavered and he began to thrust into you. You blinked up at him, eyes full of nothing but pure adoration as he fucked your mouth. “Fuck, (Y/N), you’re so fucking good for me… Gonna be a good girl and swallow my cum?”

“Mmmhm,” you hummed and he gasped at the feeling of your throat vibrating. He released another string of curses before you felt his hot cum shooting down your throat. You absolutely savored the moment, taking in every drop you could. You never wanted to forget this feeling; this taste.

You bobbed your head a couple more times before pulling off, causing his legs to tremble. He caught his breath, pulling his pants back up. He looked down at you, knelt on the floor before him, eyes glazed over, cheeks flushed and lips swollen.

He held out a hand to help you up, which you took. You frowned, unhappy that your encounter was over.

But as if reading your mind, he took your face in his hands. “Don’t look so disappointed. I’m not finished with you yet, love.”

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tttchalamettt · 2 months

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Pretty Boy

Summary: Reader makes Timmy use his words to ask for what he wants. Content Warnings: Smut (p in v), sub!Timmy/dom!reader, extremely short. Word count: 460

A tiny whine escaped his throat as I kissed around the sweet spot on his neck. I was being particularly wicked tonight, avoiding all the spots I knew he needed me most.

“Please…” he whimpered.

“Please what?” I purred, flicking my tongue over the sensitive spot on his neck.

“Please,” he tried again. He didn’t like to beg. Thought it made him sound less masculine. I, however, loved hearing his little whimpers and pleas; the cute little noises he made when he needed me so much that he just couldn’t contain it anymore.

“Tell me what you want,” I coaxed, my hands roaming his chest.

“Want youuu,” he whined, his hands running down the curves of my body and finally resting on my hips.

“I’m right here, baby,” I replied innocently, gently biting the spot between his neck and his shoulder and then soothing it with my tongue. He squirmed beneath me, uncomfortably needy.

“Please, (Y/N).”

“I can’t read your mind,” I said. One of my hands drifted up into his beautiful curls. I tugged a little; he always loved that. “I’ll be happy to give you whatever you want. You just have to tell me, baby.”

He let out another frustrated whimper. I could feel his hardness against me. He bit his bottom lip as if it were the only thing holding the words in. I brushed a rogue curl off his forehead, taking his face in my hands and looking deeply into his eyes.

“Tell me,” I whispered.

“I want you to ride me!” he finally burst. “Want you to ride me and call me your pretty boy and let me cum inside you. Please, (Y/N)!”

I smiled, pressing a light kiss to his lips. “That wasn’t so hard, now, was it?”

I pulled his cock out from his boxers and descended on him in an instant, more than happy to give him exactly what he wanted. His head dropped back onto the pillow and he let out a sigh of relief. I set a slow pace, leaning over him. He let out another little moan.

His hands gripped my hips as I began to move faster. I could tell he was trying not to buck up into me and fuck me himself; he wanted me to do it.

“Does that feel good, pretty boy?” I asked.

“So fucking good,” he replied, another moan escaping his lips. “Fuck,” he groaned as I clenched around him. “Gonna cum, (Y/N).”

“Cum inside me,” I whispered in his ear. I felt him explode, the feeling of his hot cum pushing me over the edge.

“Thank you,” he whimpered, his eyes glazed over in post-orgasmic bliss.

I smirked, running my fingers through his hair again. “Any time, pretty boy.”

#timothee chalamet imagine #timothée chalamet #timothee #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet x you #timothee chalamet x yn #timothee chalamet x y/n #timothee x you #timothee x yn #timothee x y/n #timothee imagine #reader insert #timothee fic #timothee smut #timothee chalamet smut #timothee fanfic #timothee x reader #timothee chamalet

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justsomerandomfanfic · 5 days

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Bright Lights - Timothée Chalamet X Female Reader

Title: Bright Lights

Timothée Chalamet X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Zendaya (Mentioned), Denise Villeneuve (Mentioned), Cynthia: your manager (Mentioned), Jody: the interviewer, and your adoring fans (Mentioned)

Requested by: Anon!

WC: 2,363

Warnings: Reader is mentioned wearing a dress, celebrity Reader, Reader is mentioned to have anxiety, nicknames, secret relationship, slightly suggestive, very small angst, and fluff

Your eyes were closed, your breathing slow and deep as you concentrated on your said breathing. You fiddled with the fabric of your attire, a black dress that you were wearing for the red carpet premiere of ‘Dune: Part 2.’ You had played the lead alongside Zendaya and Timothée - your boyfriend. Well, secret boyfriend. You both treasured privacy and liked to keep both your private life and life in the limelight separate. This had been something you both wanted, and so far it had been working out pretty well for the both of you.

Yes, there had been times when the tabloids would assume and make assumptions about the two of you; digging way too deep into the relationship and scrutinizing the simplest of paparazzi photos. It was stressful, as it was for any celebrity couple, but you both got through it; it helped to communicate and talk things out when one or the other was upset by anything. But you'd deal with all the stress and paparazzi over and over again if it meant that you were with Timothée. He made everything worth it.

Letting out one more breath, you flickered open your eyes and stepped out of the car as the door opened. The roaring and the screaming from the many, many fans seemed to be coming from everywhere as you stood up. They rushed to the rope, arms reaching out, holding things for you to sign or pictures to take. You gave them all your best smile, thanking them and signing as many autographs before you were sent to the carpet.

Going to your first interviewer, you gave the young woman a smile before she spoke, "Y/N, it is so lovely to meet you, my name is Jody, and I'd just like to start out by saying that I love your dress." She complimented, making your smile widen.

"Thank you! I love your outfit too." You replied, seeing Jodi was wearing a simple black suit. Clasping your hands before you, you held onto your bag tightly, feeling a little bit overwhelmed.

"Thank you!" She gushed before getting into the real questions, "Do you mind telling me who made this particular outfit tonight?"

Clearing your throat lightly, you spoke, "Well," You began thoughtfully, looking at your dress. "The dress was made for me by Valentino, and I just have to thank them for doing such an amazing job. I was stunned when I first saw it." You answered, “The jewelry and bag is Gucci, and my shoes are also Valentino.” Jody seemed impressed, nodding her head slightly before she went into her next question.

"How did you get cast into the movie, if you don't mind me asking?" She asked, and you felt yourself become more at ease.

"My manager called me up one day and told me that Denis wanted me to come in for auditions. Cynthia, my manager, never told me what it was for, though I did have a feeling that it might’ve been for the second Dune movie. But it seemed that I did a good job since I was cast." You let out a small laugh, and Jody gave you a smile and a nod, bringing the mic back over to her.

"So, Denis Villeneuve specifically asked you to be in his movie?" She asked, bringing the mic back over to you.

You nodded, shifting your weight slightly, "Yes, he had told me once when we were filming for ‘Dune: Part 2’ that he loved my work in the ‘Transformers’ series and ‘Barbie.’" Your lips quirked upwards into a grin. It was simply phenomenal working on the movie with Denis and the rest of the cast. And I feel very honored to have had the chance to be a part of this, honestly, groundbreaking movie."

"That's amazing, I love those movies, and I have no doubt you are incredible in this movie as well." Jody spoke, "So, I wanted to bring up a little something." Her words made your stomach twist unsurely, you knew what was coming, "There have been rumors that you and Timothée Chalamet are involved in some way, and I'd just like to ask if that rumor is true?"

You could feel your cheeks grow hot, as your eyes glanced down the carpet, seeing Zendaya and Timothée further down. You couldn't help but let your eyes wander over Timothée, wearing a black baggy top, and silver shiny pants. Zendaya wore an amazing robotic-eeque suit, which was mighty impressive. And Timothée looked absolutely handsome, the lights of the multiple cameras flashing as he smiled with Daya by his side.

You let out an awkward, breathy laugh, turning back to the interviewer, "Well, we're just really good friends. Timothée has been my biggest supporter through everything, the same goes for Zendaya, and I feel really lucky to have worked alongside them in this movie." You said as professionally as you could as Jody gave you and nodded in thanks before you were asked to go to your first mark.

Standing before the flashing cameras and paparazzi yelling out your name, you posed and looked at the many cameras as best as you could. Your eyes burned from the constant flashing but your smile never wavered. You had been doing this for a long time, so you were pretty used to it. You were snapped out of your thoughts though when you felt a familiar hand wrap around your waist. Your faux camera-ready smile quickly turned into a real one when you looked over to see Timothée, already looking down at you. His green eyes were soft as they took you in, and you felt yourself melt under his gaze as he gave you a soft, loving smile.

"Hi, Timmy," You greeted your boyfriend, leaning in more toward him subconsciously, hoping he could hear you over all of the people; you felt his grip on you tighten.

"Hello, mon amour," He muttered, his voice deep. His eyes flickered to the cameras, then back to you, "I've missed you," He then said, and you looked up at him once more, giving him a smirk with a small tilt of your head as your eyes glanced from his eyes, to his hair, and back. You had to suppress the urge to run your fingers through his hair. But, you know that you'd have him all to yourself after the premiere was over.

Timothée was feeling ever-so-much the same, the urge to just lean down and kiss you was strong. His hands itched to pull you close, press against your body, and kiss every inch of skin that you could offer until the world fell away. But Timothée had to hold off on doing anything of the sort. He felt his smile widen, his eyes gazing from your eyes, the soft slope of your nose, and down to the smile on your face. He loved your smile. Your smile was breathtaking. He couldn't believe that he was dating you. You. He was so in love with you. He felt so lucky to get to wake up and see you beside him, to share his moments with you, to just be with you. He had no difficulty imagining spending the rest of his life with you.

"We saw each other no more than four hours ago, Timmy," You laughed lightly, breaking him from his thoughts of you as you felt your cheeks heat up from his intense gaze.

Timothée only returned your smirk, “And I’ve been missing you the moment we left the hotel," He turned back to face the cameras, looking like a complete natural. You felt your heart skip a beat at his comment, admiring the way he looked as he smiled at the cameras. You were so proud of him. You felt his hand tighten once more on your waist, his thumb brushing against the soft fabric as he waved to the many cameras with his other hand, "I'll see you inside?" He asked, and you gave him a nod.

"As always," You watched as he looked down at you once more before slipping his arm from your waist and taking your hand in his. Raising your hand to his lips, Timothée kept his beautiful green eyes locked on yours as he pressed a lingering kiss to the back of your hand; leaving you breathless. Reluctantly, he let go, your hand dropping back to your side as he headed to his mark. He got his kiss, and you got yours.

Letting out a happy sigh, you knew there were going to be rumors, tabloids, and whatever else talking about what had transpired but you didn't care. You were just content with having Timothée with you tonight, even for a little while. You could still feel the warmth that his arm had left, and it gave you butterflies in your stomach. You knew when this was all over, you’d be with him again, cuddled in your hotel room, and you couldn’t wait.

Finally, you made it inside the theater, finding Timothée and sitting down beside him. He quickly turned his head when he felt you sit down, giving you that stunning smile of his. You returned the gesture happily, your heart swelling at just the sight of him. As the lights dimmed and the many celebrities around hushed, you felt Timothée's hand land on your thigh; your hand swiftly moved over to cover his. You bit your lip lightly as you let the soft pad of your thumb brush over his knuckles, he then interlocked his fingers with yours just as the film began to play. The intro music echoed throughout the theater, and the first scene began to play out.

How did you get so lucky?

Around more than halfway through the movie, your eyes began to droop. Your head fell to the side and landed on Timothée's shoulder. You tried to fight it, you really did, but you were tired and slightly overwhelmed by the paparazzi and flashing cameras. Timothée turned his head slightly, his nose brushing the crown of your head, a small smile on his face as he gently squeezed your hand.

"I'll wake you when it's over," He whispered to you, gently rubbing his thumb against your wrist, and you hummed quietly in response, "Go to sleep, sweetheart."

You slowly nodded, letting your eyes flutter close. How did he get so lucky?

~~~

When you opened your eyes, you frowned deeply, confused. You sat on your bed, phone in hand, on Tumblr. You looked around your hotel room, saw your TV playing some YouTube video, your clock on your bedside table read ten in the morning, and the sun was sitting high in the sky outside. You felt your shoulders drop, a deep breath falling out between your lips. You dropped your phone onto the mattress, rubbing your tired eyelids with the palms of your hands before you looked around your bedroom.

You were a bit confused, not remembering how you got into bed in the first place. You shut your eyes as you tried to remember the night before, remembering the premiere, but the memories from that event were blurry. It was hard to tell if you actually went to the premiere or if it was all a dream. Such large and public events were a bit stressful for you, and you often had to sleep the overwhelming sense of anxiety away before you could function properly.

But as you opened your eyes, you brought your gaze to the closet door, you spotted the garment bag that hung there; you could see your tan dress inside through the sheer fabric of the bag. Sweeping your gaze back around your room again, you spotted Timothée’s black premiere shirt draped over the hotel room chair; his black shoes were next to your heels by the closet. You sighed heavily, running your hands through your hair. It wasn't a dream, you had gone to the premiere. You knew that your anxiety sometimes caused you to forget details from these big and stressful events, and the more you sat there, the more you began to remember the events of the night before.

Letting out a small sigh of relief, you turned your attention to the other side of your bed, frowning slightly as Timothée wasn't there. Before you got out of bed to get ready for the day, your eyes spotted a small pink sticky note on Timothée's bedside table. Reaching over, you pulled the sticky note from the wooden surface, your small frown turning upside-down at the sight of Timothée's handwriting.

'I got a call from my manager, I didn't want to disturb you. Ordering breakfast whenever you’re ready. Forever yours, T.'

Kicking off the hotel covers, you felt your stomach rumble at the mere thought of food. With a smile, you jumped from the bed and slipped out of the room, your eyes immediately spotting Timothée as he lightly paced around the main area of the hotel suite, phone to his ear as he spoke to his manager. You leaned against the doorway, crossing your leg over the other, your arms crossing as you smiled; watching as Timothée's eyes darted to where you stood, his expression changing instantly as he gave you a second glance.

His face softened as soon as you smiled at him, pausing his pacing, unable to look away from you. Timothée finished whatever he was saying to his manager before hanging up the phone and walking towards you, "Good morning, mon amour," He greeted, stopping in front of you as he tucked your hair behind your ear and cupped your cheek with one of his hands, dipping down slightly to press a loving kiss to your lips, "Sleep well?"

You hummed softly, nodding your head, "Very much so, yes." You replied, pressing your hand against his hand on your cheek, his skin warm and soft under your fingertips.

He chuckled softly, pulling away from your touch and taking your hand in his, leading you backward into the suite. "Ready for breakfast then?"

"Absolutely," You nodded, your chest warming from the overwhelming happiness and adoration that you were feeling, "I'm starving."

---

Main Masterlist | Celebrity Masterlist

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siriustaylorsversion · 1 year

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timothee chalamet x reader social media au

all that you ever wanted from me was, sweet nothing.

summary- you reveal your celebrity crush on the jimmy fallon show and the internet goes wild tagging him and telling him to make a move since his feelings are the same.

yourname.official

yourname.official tune in to watch me completely embarrass myself on the jimmy fallon show while talking about marvel, taylor swift, hamburgers and celebrity crushes at 8pm est... liked by taylorswift, vancityreynolds and 3,14,900 others.

taylornation she can make the whole place ✨shimmer✨ *liked by yourname.official

chrisevans Should we tag him?

yourname.official DON'T YOU DARE chrisevans hey, tchalamet robertdowneyjr something for you tchalamet chrishemsworth hey mate, tchalamet paulrudd is this a new trend? tchalamet scarlettjohansson guys, leave her alone.........tchalamet

yourname'sfan.forevermore as paul rudd said, hopping onto the trend tchalamet

haileesteinfield i'm on your team yourname.official but WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?

yourname.official damn this is not how i thought this post would go...

yourname.official

yourname.official thank you everyone for tagging him! (i'm being sarcastic paulrudd) but at least you got us talking? liked by tchalamet, taylorswift and 2,80,999 others.

tchalamet to all who want to know... the way to get this girl is using taylorswift lyrics.

yourname.official facts. tchalamet what are you a rapper now? yourname.official LIL TIMMY TIM IN DA HOUSE. tchalamet forget i asked.

taylorswift i say that's my baby and i'm proud...

yourname.official I LOVE YOU. yournametaylorsversion HE USED YOUR LYRICS OMG

tchalametdaily

tchalametdaily guess who did the paps spot today in NY?

liked by haileesteinfield and 10,890 others.

yourname.forevermore SCREAMING.CRYING.THROWINGUP.

haileesteinfield is this how i'm gonna get information about you now youname.official... is it?!

timotheefanclub WAIT WTF IT HAPPENED ALREADY?

yournamefan.69 that's what she said?

tchalamet

tchalamet do you really wanna know where i was april 29th? hint: it was 8pm est... liked by yourname.official, chrisevans and 2,02,309 others.

yourname.official stop with the blondie lyrics.

tchalamet afraid you'll say yes? timmyfan WAIT WTF?! paulrudd I... what do you call it?? paulrudd ship! I ship! yourname.official paulrudd no one says that anymore, grandpa

yourname.forevermore I LOVE THIS. I LOVE YOU BOTH. I'VE FINALLY STARTED LOVING LIFE.

blakelively so... do we keep on tagging you in her posts?

yourname.official i love you, but NO

yourname.official

taylorswift can i keep her? happy birthday, my love 🩷 liked by tchalamet, joealwyn, yourname.official and 4,05,690 others.

yourname.official thank you for *everything*!

tchalamet is that a beautiful boy reference? yourname.official i told you i loved it.

blakelively happy birthday sweetheart!

yourname.official thank you!!! tell vancityreynolds you're the funnier one!!

tchalamet

tchalamet happiest birthday mon ange, thank you for all your support, love and just for... existing. wherever you stray i'll follow, here's to a new chapter in your life. liked by yourname.official, taylorswift, and 3,09,700 others.

comments on this post have been limited

yourname.official WOWZA you have a way with words. i cannot thank god enough that you're here in my life and i hope you know i'll be with you forevermore.

yourname.official

yourname.official thank you everyone for ALL the birthday wishes, i love you all a lot!!!!!!! manifesting for more happiness, strength and love till the next one!

liked by tchalamet, taylorswift and 5,06,690 others. comments on this post have been limited

tchalamet love the shirt!

yourname.official you would because it's YOUR gift.

taylorswift 🥺🖤

yourname.official it's you and me, that's my whole world.

spread love and kindness <3

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skyebounded · 2 years

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Tangled

Masterlist

premise: There are plenty of things that you admire about your boyfriend, and his hair happens to be a big one.

Pairing: Timothée Chalamet x Fem!Reader

Warnings: oral (f-receiving) fingering, swearing, Timothée’s hair! . (I think that’s it)

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: Hello Lovelies 💙 I don’t really know what is happening to me, but I saw this pic and a few others, and his hair is just wonderful, and I really just want to tug on it, respectfully.

You could feel his breath fanning across the back of your neck, his arm wrapped lazily around you. He was always so peaceful when he slept, soft sounds falling from his lips. You can’t help but turn yourself just enough to catch a glimpse of his sleeping figure.

His face is a complete picture of peace as half of his face lays pressed against the white linens. His hair was all tousled, a wild mess atop his head, with an out-of-place few curly strands that framed his face, that was what you loved the most. His hair. Well, not the most, but right now, it was. You couldn’t particularly help the way your mind insisted that you needed to tug on it, to hear the sounds that he would make when you would do just that, nor could you help the new sudden ache that grew between your thighs at the thought of doing it. You always loved the way that it felt tangled through your fingers, the way his eyes would roll back with each tug. You reached out, brushing a few strands out of his face.

You knew that he wouldn’t mind if you woke him, took what you needed, but you couldn’t, he was far too peaceful, and you didn’t want to ruin that, not yet at least.

You turn back, trying to be careful not to wake him. You let your fingers graze the skin of your stomach, dancing lightly down towards the band of your panties, your fingers looping around the elastic. You dip them down to your core, your fingers gliding through your soaked folds. A soft gasp escapes your lips, as you press them to your clit.

You knew nothing felt as good as he would, knowing the amount of pleasure that you received from your own fingers would never measure up to the pleasure he can give you with just his tongue alone.

Shifting your fingers back and forth against yourself, soft moans at the pleasure it was giving you. Your free hand finds your breast, palming at it the way he does, pinching down on your hardening nipple, the sensation bringing you higher and higher. You needed something to ground you, something to anchor you back to reality, and all you could think of was his hair, that was your tether.

Your eyes flutter shut, thinking about the way your fingers would find refuge in the depths of his curls, pulling on them with every jolt of pleasure that overcame you. Or perhaps the sounds that he would make when you did, all sorts of lewd sounds that would leave his lips.

Your pace begins to grow, absentmindedly, as your fingers slid into your entrance, grazing that spot inside you. You knew that he could do it so much better, hitting that spot perfectly with his slender fingers. “Fuck” you gasp.

You feel the mattress shift beneath you, Timothée becoming restless. You stop your movements, intent on not waking him. Once he stills, you continue. Teetering your fingers, whilst working them.

You feel him closer behind you, grinding his cock into your ass, slowly, lazily. The arm that he had draped around you, moves, his hand sliding down your panties to meet yours. His fingers work in the same movement as your own, putting a sweet pressure on your clit, teasing your entrance.

His lips brush against your exposed neck, reaching your ear, “Without me, mon amour?” his voice deep, laced with sleep, making your stomach flutter. Your fingers curl into the sheets, as he replaces your small hand with his, your fingers with his, not missing a beat. His hips still rutting into you. Timothée places soft slow kisses along your neck, biting at it, and then smoothing it over with his blessed tongue. You grind your ass, back against him, listening to the way he groans at the friction.

“Want to tell me why I find you like this?” he asks. His other arm slips under your frame, sliding up your form to take the place of your own hand. His fingers wrap around your nipple, pinching down hard on it when you don’t respond.

You moan out, his hand kneading your breast. “You” you breathe out. A dark chuckle graces your ears.

“Was it the hair? did the hair do it for you?”

You could hear the smile in his tone. He knew your weaknesses, knew that his hair was one of them, this wasn’t your first offense. Heat fills your face, burning your cheeks, you’d been caught. His fingers stop, his form moving to lean over you, letting his eyes meet yours. Hooded and filled with a sense of amusement. His brow knits up, as you try to bury your face in the pillow, avoiding his gaze.

“Don’t you hide that cute face of yours, I want to see it.”

It wasn’t lost on you, the mess you looked in the morning, it was nothing compared to the work of art he was. You bring yourself to look at him, a grin on your face, as he winks.

“So tell me, mon amour, why didn’t you wake me..?” he smirks.

He knew what you wanted, all you had to do was tell him. He moves, letting you lie flat on your back. You bring your hand to cup his face, your thumb grazing over his cheek. God was he beautiful. His hair was even more perfect, draped across his face, a disheveled mess.

“For that very reason, I didn’t want to wake you..” you respond, a sense of false innocence in your tone. Timothée’s hand traces back up your torso, gliding along your bare skin.

“So you figured, you’d do it yourself..?”

Timothée shakes his head slowly, feigning disappointment. His eyes narrow and his brows draw together.

“Yeah..” you say, barely above a whisper. You watch his tongue glide along his bottom lip, and instinctively take yours between your teeth.

“I’m disappointed,” he sighs.

You knew he was just merely teasing, but even so, it still excited you.

“I’m sorry baby.”

Timothée quickly moves to top you, caging you in with his arms. You position your legs to let him rest between, he leans down, pressing a kiss to your lips, one you welcome. Opening your mouth to let his tongue in to collide with yours. His hand comes to cup your breast once more, kneading it in his palm, toying with your nipple. Jolts of pleasure ripple through you at the subtlest of touches.

He breaks from you, kissing down your jaw and neck, spending extra time tending to each breast, gently sucking your nipple into his mouth with a moan.

There was nothing more that he liked than early mornings with you. He descends down your body, his lips tracing your skin, every blemish, every detail, pushing the covers off the bed in the process.

“I forgive you,” he mumbles between kisses.

He meets the apex of your thighs, looking down at the soaked fabric that separated your dream from your reality. He loops his slender fingers around the band, and pulls them down, tossed to the floor to be forgotten.

His eyes glazed with a mad sense of lust as he looked down at you, bare and spread out for him, a beautiful sight. He wets his lips, leaning down to place a few more kisses on your stomach, working purple splotches into your waist, knowing that only he would see them. He loops your legs over his shoulders with a smile, and your head falls back against the pillow, a sinful sound leaves your lips at the feeling of his mouth on you. He licks a stripe up your center, tongue flat, lapping at your entirety, moaning at the slightest taste of you. His eyes meet yours, dark and prudent. He flicks his tongue across your clit, loving the way your body jolts at the sensation.

Pushing his nose against your clit, rubbing it up and down, as he teases your entrance with his tongue. Your hands find his hair, the one thing that would tether you, sinking your fingers deep into his dark curls. Timothée takes to sucking harshly on your clit, sending your body reeling with tingles of pleasure.

You look down, in awe at the way he looked between your legs, picture-perfect, one that you would never get used to seeing. His hair was still a beautiful mess, dark curls complementing his fair complexion, begging to be pulled. His eyes glazed over and still tired as they find yours in the chaos of everything, dark and sinful, and yet full of adoration. Your grip tightens on his hair, pulling on it as he brings his tongue to lap, against you, once more.

Your eyes fall shut, as you grind yourself against him, his palm presses firmly against your abdomen, holding you in place, and the gesture sends shivers down your spine. With another tug of his hair, he groans, the vibrations of it radiating right through your core.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, eyes glued to the way you were coming undone before him.

His fingers add to the mix, coaxing moans to push past your lips as he curls his fingers just right. Shamelessly, you grasp his hair tighter as you feel yourself nearing the edge.

“Oh shit..Timmy-”

“Come for me, darling, go ahead.” It was the only push you needed, to fall apart at the seams. Utter bliss courses you, as you cling to him, his hair, a quivering mess. He removes his mouth from you, his fingers slowing only to allow you to ride your wave until you collapse, eyes closed reeling in it all. His fingers leave you, aching, longing for more. He moves to hover over you, brushing the hair from your face as your eyes flutter open. He presses a soft kiss to your nose, then to your lips.

“Breakfast? For you at least?” He asks with a wink. You give him a playful shove, with a roll of your eyes. He kisses you once more, before climbing off the bed and heading for the kitchen.

#Timothee Chalamet #timothee chamalet #timmy chalamet #lil timmy tim #timothee chalamet goodies #Timothee Chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet x you #Timothee chalamet x y/n #smut #timothee chalamet smut #timothee chalamet fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #timothee chalamet fanfiction #Paul Atreides #timmy tim #timmy t #Timothee #timothee chalamet

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timottea · 2 years

Note

Could u do an angst t x reader in which like yn n him broke up months ago but like they kinda run into eachother n talk if that makes sense

HI oh my god this was buried embarrassingly deep in my reqs but if you're still around i hope you like it my love 💗

cw: swearing, angst, one guy being a creep on the street but other than that we good fam

“could i have that to go?”

your head snaps up from returning your wallet to your bag, ears piqued as you wait for more conversation, for the french undercurrent, for the way he – and only he – will thank the barista a thousand times before exiting.

“thank you, thanks so much, man,” timothée says, and it’s too late to bow out gracefully.

scanning the coffee shop quickly, it’s a damning conclusion: either you make a break for it out the front door and pray he doesn’t notice, or you hide behind that particularly leafy fern in the corner. either option is mortifying, but wouldn’t it be just as mortifying for you to make small talk with your ex that steers clear of oh timothée you broke my heart by the way there’s still a ton of your shit at my place which definitely doesn’t still hurt to look at.

timothée takes his coffee and croissant and turns for the door and there it is, that unmistakable walk, and you’re eyeing up the fern when all of a sudden he’s standing right in front of you.

his green eyes are clouded with emotion as he looks at you, eyes flitting across your face. as if he could ever forget your features.

you duck your head quickly, but the damage is done. the feelings come rushing back, and you’ve no choice but to steady yourself against the counter of wooden stirrers and sugar dispensers.

you hand him the sugar instinctually. he’s in you. every detail lives on, even one month later, right down to how he takes his coffee.

he takes a breath, nodding his thanks as he quietly takes it from you, fingers brushing against yours and it hurts, it hurts so much, this thing that you used to do together.

“thank you,” he mutters, stirring the sugar into his cup. “and i’m sorry. i’ll find a different coffee shop.”

“that’s not gonna help,” you laugh bitterly, handing him the creamer. you’d give anything to forget.

timothée nods knowingly, laughing brokenly, and swirls the creamer into his coffee with another thank you. too polite, too stilted, too painful.

“it doesn’t help that you’re everywhere,” you force yourself to say it, heart aching at the pain in his eyes. but if the universe isn’t sending you some sign for closure, then why are you both standing in this coffee shop at 2pm on a random tuesday?

he stirs his drink once clockwise, then twice anti-clockwise, and you wait for him to tap the stirrer against the rim like he always does, but he doesn’t and it’s new and why is it suddenly blurry in here?

you blink rapidly.

it’s been a month. he’s making new habits now. he’s made new habits now. probably with somebody new. definitely not with you.

you move abruptly, snatching up your coffee and pushing the exit door when it’s screaming at you to pull, but timothée’s faster and he yanks it open for you.

“i thought i could do this but i can’t,” your words smush into his shoulder as you brush past him. you’re already halfway down the street when he catches up, his long strides doubling yours.

you stop suddenly with sudden intent to rip the bandaid off and he skids to a halt, nearly colliding with a stop sign.

sheltered under a scaffolding, you wrap your arms protectively over your chest in an attempt to hold together your broken heart.

“timothée, i can’t do this,” you repeat tearfully, looking up at him. he swims in front of you and you blink back tears only for them to splash onto the concrete. traitors. you knew you should have hid behind the plant.

at your tears, the weight on his chest doubles, a desperation so impossibly heavy he’s certain he won’t breathe right ever again.

“i’m sorry,” he croaks around the lump in his throat, and you can tell he means it. really means it. he’s aching with it, earnest eyes baring his entire soul as they blink back their own tears. “i know this is selfish and just a really shitty thing to do but i can’t see you again and not tell you – i have to tell you—”

“you mind not taking up half the sidewalk?” a stranger shouts, shoving his way past timothée but not before scanning your body sickeningly.

you shudder, tightening your arms around yourself, but when timothée goes to call him out, you grasp his arm. electricity pulses through you as if you touched a livewire, lighting every cell of your body. you flinch as if shocked, clasping the hot coffee cup in your hands as if it could somehow ground you.

“i have to tell you how unbelievably fucking stupid i am,” timothée tries again. you watch the way his hands shake around his own coffee cup, how the bag containing his croissant rustles against his nervous fingers. it takes everything in you not to reach out, to stop the shaking.

but that would mean one month of hard work down the drain.

“look, i really can’t do this,” you sniffle, looking just over his shoulder. you can’t meet his eyes. he’s standing right here, looking at you so tenderly. “we broke up. you broke up with me.”

timothée shifts his weight from foot to foot. his hands long to reach out, so he slides them into his pockets, anxious fingers twisting those rings around and around.

“i just wanna talk,” he says over the city noise.

shaking your head, you push yourself forwards.

he follows. of course he follows. he was the one who taught you this neighbourhood.

“i…” timothée falters, worrying his lip between his teeth. “i really miss you.”

you meet his eyes and it’s a mistake.

“you’re making it worse,” you wince, wiping under your eyes. you turn away and he lets you, and that really hurts.

“i’m sorry, i’m a dick, i know this is impossible,” timothée speaks so gently it almost shatters you.

you look back.

“i can’t go anywhere,” you choke, desperate for him, desperate for reprieve. “i can’t walk down the street, i can’t watch tv, i can’t go get a damn coffee without you being there.”

he deflates as your words sink in.

“and even if you’re not actually there, you’re still there,” you rant, gesturing to the buildings around you, the backdrops to the first time he showed you the best place to get bagels, and the best shutter to make out against, and the best street to dance in the rain on.

“you say shit like you miss me and i can’t move on,” you sniff, scrubbing furiously at your cheeks as more tears fall.

“i can’t move on,” he stresses, laying his heart bare right there on the dirty, messy street. “you think i wanted to end this?”

eyebrows furrowed, you stare at him in confusion. “you’re the one that did!”

“because i was hurting you, not because i stopped loving you!”

“what, timmy—” you balk, incredulous. “you never hurt me!”

he steps closer. “all those times i had to leave you, months at a time, with shitty phone signal, when all i could give you was a fucking hoodie to sleep with.”

you step closer. “that’s why you ended it? man, didn’t you see it? i was so close to loving you. the only time you’ve ever hurt me was when you ended it, you asshole.”

timothée can’t help it. he grins. smug bastard.

closer, toe to toe, you’re convinced he can hear your heart thumping inside your chest. desperate to fight the smile playing on your lips, you shake your head, stubborn to the very end.

“wait, wait,” his voice drops, serious again. “yn, i need to tell you how sorry i am, truly, i never intended to end it, i just thought that would be the least painful thing moving forward—”

“screw you, timmy,” you laugh happily, still shaking your head even when he closes the gap, and, oh, his hands still cup your face. guess some habits die hard.

“say it will be different this time,” you whisper against his lips. “say you’ll give me every damn hoodie you own.”

“and the best phone signal in the world, i’m talking all the fucking bars,” he adds, thumbs stroking over your jaw.

you’re still laughing against his lips when they find yours.

#timothee chalamet #timothée chalamet #timothee imagine #timothee chalamet fanfic #timothee fanfic #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet blurb #timothee chalamet x y/n #timothee chalamet fic #timothee chalamet x you #timothee chalamet angst

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infernalodie · 2 years

Text

𝐔𝐍𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 || 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡é𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐭

“𝘚𝘦𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘦 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘢 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘸 𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘊𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘦 𝘥𝘰 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺?“

Inspo: DESTIN CONRAD - UNPREDICTABLE

Pairing: Timothée Chalamet x Black!Male!reader

Summary: You liked having control in your life. When Timothée shows up and destabalizes that, you put him in his place.

Warnings: Heavy smut, rough sex, bulge kink, and brat taming

Words 1323

DNI IF YOU’RE YOUNGER THAN 18!

Unpredictability wasn’t something you could say you were fond of. Having a clear base of what to expect and such helped you feel some sort of assurance. Perhaps it has just been something you preferred over chaos. Or maybe it was something you hated being a witness to just judging by your past. Constantly being picked up and dropped from projects or friends when you believed things to be well. But instead of you making the possible assessment of you being naive, you blamed it on unpredictability. Now, when that came into the form of a person - the specific pet peeves you had, you knew you were doomed.

Timothée had been a different type of refreshment when you joined a movie project. A romance that seemed far more graphic and thriller-esque than you would’ve expected your co-star to take. But when you saw him wielding an axe, swinging down on the dummy corpse, you were very much proven wrong. Again, his unpredictability and his skill of acting had taken your life in full swing. How he seemed to harness the complete psychotic boyfriend your character was with, it had done some other things to you as well.

Specifically in the way that Timothée’s character had just killed someone and your character might’ve been nothing less than turned on. And when you read the script, it wasn’t supposed to be as intense as it had been. But Timothée improvised and kissed you. The cameras continued to roll and the director was shocked to practically catch a full-on one-take of you two making out with a body laying on the floor behind Timothée.

The hype around you two being in a movie together was already pretty crazy. But when the trailer came out and the director made sure to have a brief snippet of that scene in the trailer, the world went ballistic. Paparazzi were searching for every scoop they could get on you and Timothée. And in the middle of the chaos, there you were trying to gain a grasp of some sort of control you needed. If it was to be the smallest thing, you would be glad.

But you were subjected to attending the red carpet and premiere for the movie. Made to answer questions about Timothée instead of directing them elsewhere. Which made you justifiably flustered in certain moments.

And then, the living embodiment of unpredictability arrived, shocking you, of course. Wearing what seemed to be a shirt with the entirety of his back open. Sleek and tight pants that persuaded your eyes to stare at his ass longer than needed. There was no doubt in your mind that over the time you two had been working together, there had been a mutual attraction shared between the two of you. Often times ignoring the fact that in any intimate scenes in the movie that you had felt Timothée’s cock hard against your body.

It was those times when it felt like the make-out or “sex” scenes felt extremely real. Creating a sense of unknown whenever you came onto the set knowing that you and Timothée would have to go and do something intimate.

“Did you make the decision to wear this?” You inquired, walking over to your co-star.

The sound of your voice had made Timothée’s lips curl into a large grin with him turning to you. Your hulking height and figure overshadow him from all the cameras and fans watching the two of you. Timothée had been poking and prodding at you since the moment you two did the read of the script together. Flirting on set, whilst trying to keep it minimal so you didn’t exactly catch on. Because you were genuinely the most gorgeous guy he had ever seen.

You stood a good 5 inches taller than him with muscles that could absolutely break him in half. Brown skin so soft to the touch it would be hard to believe you had a normal 9 to 5 job before you made it into Hollywood. And finally, you were charming in all the right ways. But Timothée quickly discovered how you didn’t like sudden things, so that would be the reason for him teasing you every chance he got and hoping some of his action knocked you off balance.

And for today, he seems to have been successful when finding your eyes constantly running up and down his body. But you had reached your breaking point with the man. From the world being ballistic, stardom seeming to finally hit you, and Timothée being under your skin, you were finally at your precipice. “Do you like it?” Timothée asked, lips having taken a smirk, as you continued to stare at him.

“Oh, yeah, totally,” you answered, an arm wrapping around the man’s waist. Timothée suppressed the surprise when feeling your hand grip his hip tightly. “But I’ll definitely like it off when we get inside.”

Timothée’s eyes widened as he looked up at you. Instead of finding that usual soft smile that you usually wore, he was greeted by a deadpan. Your eyes are unwavering from his and a complete contrast of colour and brightness. You were pissed, that wasn’t hard to see.

But Timothée still felt his cock slowly begin to awaken with the dirty thoughts of how you would be with him when you were angry. Maybe how you would fuck him stupid. Or maybe how you would leave him high and dry; your own personal toy.

Turning his attention to the paparazzi that begged for both of your attention, Timothée muttered, “Then maybe we should hurry up here, huh?”

Timothée let out groans and quiet moans as your hips snapped into his. Watching the reflection of his flushed face contort in pleasure as he was bent over the sink. Unbothered by the fact that the two of you had taken a public bathroom and had locked the door. Wanting this space to be only for the two of you, especially you who would control this entire situation.

Your hands held his waist in a firm grip. Each stab of your cock into his delicate and sensitive hole made a noticeable bulge in Timothée’s stomach. Rearranging his guts and stretching him to lengths that he wasn’t at all expecting.

“Fuck- Y/n!” He moaned, head falling forward.

It fell short with your hand grabbing his hair and yanking on his head. He cried, eyes half-lidded and filled with an unrelenting amount of lust that you could only deliver. And he was not afraid to show it with his hips often bouncing back to meet your thrusts.

But he wasn’t allowed to have any form of control now. No, that wouldn’t do. “No looking away,” you growled. “You asked for this, dumbass.”

Wrapping a hand around the nape of his neck, you pulled him up flush to your exposed chest. Using your other hand to press to the bulge of your cock. Causing Timothée to mewl and groan, wiggling his hips to get free from the extra pressure on his insides.

He was a complete and utter mess. Body dripping in sweat, blush from the multiple places that you had sucked and bitten at. In the very few make-out scenes in the movie, you rarely got to see this side of him. The submissive side of him that seemed better than the little brat he always was

So, with your eyes focused on his through the mirror, you pressed your hips against his ass. The instant of you fully sheathed inside of him, he gasped and tried pulling away. A growl vibrated through your chest as you reached around and grabbed his cock, beginning to pump it. Thumb brushing over the slit and feeling him tremble in your grasp with a moan.

You smirked in amusement. “There’s still a few showcases before us,” you pointed out. “I wonder how many times I can make you cum before we’re needed.”

#timothee imagine #timothee chalamet smut #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothee chalamet x black!reader #timothee chalamet x black!male!reader #timothee chalamet x male!reader #timothee chalamet x you #timothee chalamet x y/n #x black!reader #x poc reader #x black!male!reader #x male!reader

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ijustwantogohomehogwarts · 8 months

Text

m i n e | (s e c r e t l y)

Y/n recounts the struggles of Timothée going back to work after spending time with her, knowing there's nothing she can do about it because, to the eyes of Hollywood, she doesn't exist. There's nothing she can do...as a girlfriend-

Warnings and such: established relationship, secret/private relationship, sad reader but major fluff points!

---------------------------------------------------------------------

I rolled over in bed, the gut wrenching realization that I was, once again, alone hit me before I even opened my eyes. The spot beside me was cold, covered pulled up and long abandoned...but his scent lingered. The warmth of his embrace, the feeling of his skin, his lips on mine...he was gone, but the memory burned in my mind like it was brand new- present.

I had myself convinced that I was handing this whole situation very well, he even gave me credit for how well I was 'holding it together,' and keeping everything a secret. Oh the irony in having secrets in Hollywood. I knew it was going to be hard, there was no way to make it any easier, but the façade shattered like glass each morning after he left.

It never mattered how long he was here; 12 hours or 12 weeks, it never felt like enough time. Who am I kidding- the rest of my life wouldn't be enough time to spend with him. We never wasted a moment, and made up for all the lack of physical touch until reality ripped us apart again. I'd fall asleep and convince myself that the next morning would be just the same, but nothing ever prepared me for his absence.

God, it was such a cliché thing to think! I could call him 10 times a day if I wanted, I could send him 100 text messages and FaceTime just to stare at his face! We live in a world where technology makes it almost impossible to miss someone...almost. Close isn't good enough...

I trudged around the empty apartment, the sound of his voice, the echo of his laughter; played loudly in the back of my mind. There was no trace of him. Keys, shoes, coat...all gone.

"Stop whining, he'll be back in a week!" I scolded myself in a desperate attempt to pull my head out of my ass and carry on with my life. "He's not dead!"

I made breakfast, cleaned the apartment and played music so loudly I couldn't hear my own thoughts. No thoughts, no tears. Besides, it was selfish for me to be upset: this was his life, I'm just a small part of it. He's got work to do, projects to finish and I'm so proud of him, truly I am! Who am I to hold him back from any of it because I miss him?! I turned the music up louder. No thoughts, no tears.

The afternoon rolled around and I dragged myself into the patio to enjoy the city. There was something magical about the time between when the work day ends, and the night life begins- there was a sense of calm amidst the chaos, something you only got to experience once a day. This is normally the time where I get to call him, or where he calls me, and we talk about the 9-5 grind as if either one of us had one, but I remember his speaking, as he drifted off to sleep last night, that today was going to be different. Busy. Demanding. Attention and time consuming. But he was excited, so I was excited for him.

There was no call.

When the noise started up again on the street below, I resolved myself to spend the rest of the night on the couch, watching movies and wallowing in my own self pity. I knew this feeling wouldn't last, that in the next day or two life would go back to the way it was before he was here, and the cycle would repeat itself. The thought of giving it up never crossed my mind...the days we were together made it all worth it. I was just a person who got too attached and I know that I would eventually learn to handle this better...good things take time after all.

I turned to shut the door, my eyes glancing over the table for the first time all day. It took another glance to notice that something on it didn't belong to me. The undeniable sparkle of designer diamonds. A ring. His ring. One of them anyway.

Maillon Panthere Ring. Cartier. $12,000. Maybe more.

Sticker shock is still very, very real.

He's left things here before, why wouldn't he, but this seemed like too much to simply forget. Shoes and t shirts were one thing, but he's never left something he wears regularly, something so expensive. I smiled, realizing that it was undoubtedly a mistake, and he had days where he would loose his own head of it wasn't attached.

"Missing something?" I texted him, though I didn't expect a response.

I set the ring down on the bathroom counter and indulged myself in a shower that lasted all too long. I threw on a pair of sweatpants and a t shirt that didn't belong to me and picked up the ring again. Funny, I had seen it so many times since he bought it, but it looked much different not wrapped around his fingers. I spun it around my own, blushing feverishly when I realized the only one it fit was my ring finger.

My phone chimed, drawing me quickly out of my thoughts.

"You. Filming on Astoria Boulevard probably until midnight...it's beautiful here. I'll bring you sometime! Call you tonight? xoxo"

Would it really be so wrong...

I jumped off the couch, giddy like a child on Christmas with a plan that would either end horribly or wonderfully, but if I was careful, the latter was the only option. I made myself presentable, without putting in too much effort for the sake of time constraint, pulled on a pair of shoes and a sweatshirt (which also didn't belong to me) and headed out the door.

I walked quickly towards the subway station a few blocks away, my knuckles turning white as I gripped the ring still on my finger. Astoria Boulevard in Queens was about an hour away, and I could only hope he was serious about being there well into the night, or this would be an all for nothing excursion out of the house.

There was a small group of people, only about 12 maybe and mostly girls, giddy with excitement and staring through their phone screens. If that wasn't enough to give away that they were all still there, the sidewalk closures, flood lights and film equipment was. I stepped over the barrier and slipped in with the group when no one was looking, though it didn't appear to be a big deal that they were there so what was one more? I made my way to the front, stopping when my fluttering in my chest became near overwhelming.

"Isn't he dreamy?" Someone whispered beside me.

"I hope we get to meet him!" Someone else replied.

"QUIET ON THE SET!"

Like a light switch, the world fell silent around us. The people beside me all hit record simultaneously and watched the magic unfold in front of them.

"ACTION."

There wasn't a whole lot to see from where we stood, but for a moment, I saw a mess of dark curls. I didn't need to see the face that they belonged to to instantly recognize him.

Him.

Everything came flooding back: the sound of his raspy voice, his lips on my neck, bare skin on bare skin, his fingers laced in mine. The smell of his skin, damp with sweat as he fought to catch his breath. I wonder if anyone had caught sight of the faint red lines down his back, or the dark purple bruises on his hips. My fingers instinctively traced my collar bone, knowing that I had matching bruises just below the fabric of this sweatshirt. My cheeks felt warm- warmer still when the train doors open and my eyes instantly fell to him.

I took in every inch of him; savoring the fact this was one of the very few times I was able to do so in public. There was an overwhelming feeling of excitement, a fear of being caught, though to anyone else I was a fan, nothing more. I felt my pulse quicken as adrenaline coursed through my body:

"I've kissed him. I've ran my fingers though his hair. I've shared a bed with him. I have his number saved in my phone. I'm wearing his clothes. I've seen him naked. I-"

Okay, simmer down.

"CUT!"

"That was great guys! Let's take 5 and we'll try to wrap this up."

There was a commotion of equipment moving and people shuffling around, but through it all I caught glimpses of Martin Scorsese (which was awe inspiring on it's own) and his muse. His beautiful, beautiful muse. The people beside me grew louder, desperate to capture his attention.

"Guys," The man who appeared to be assigned 'Crowd Control' turned towards us. "He knows you're here, he'll come say 'hello' when we're all done. Please let him finish or you're going to have to leave." He was met with muttered apologies, but didn't seem to mind.

I've never gotten to watch him work before, but there was something about it that was so...intoxicating. I already knew he poured everything into his projects, but watching him make it come to life was stunning. He took direction, looked, moved, breathed as instructed. I smiled when the rain machine came out and watched him slowly get drenched, curls sticking to his head, his white shirt becoming sheer...

I stared, unabashedly, until the final 'cut.'

"He'll be out in 10 minutes." crowd control guy spoke.

Almost to the second, the official new face of Chanel jogged around the corner. Clad in heavy sweatpants, t shirt and jacket, his hair was still damp and there was music blaring from his phone. The fans around me were screaming, though defiantly not as loud as I'm sure they have before, seeing how few of us there was. He stopped just short of the barrier, eyes locked on me, and froze.

I bit back a smile, watching him do the same as a beautiful color painted his cheeks. I dropped my head and stared at my fingers when I couldn't control myself any longer. I pulled his ring off my finger and rolled it around in my hand. I stole glanced as he made his way down the line. He was a model (literally) celebrity: doting on his fans, signing every autograph, making small talk, taking pictures...he was genuinely happy to be with them, and I know without a shadow of a doubt he would act just the same if I wasn't there.

"Don't be shy," his voice washed over me, hand touching my arm quickly. "I'm Timothee Chalamet, what's your name?"

"I'm [The nickname he gave you], it's nice to meet you!"

I stifled a laugh as the color in his cheeks began to match my nail polish. I rolled his ring back and forth between my fingers, eyes flickering between his and my hand. In public he was quick on his feet; he ran his hand from my shoulder down to my hand, taking the ring from me leaving no one next to us any wiser. In private, this may have taken him quite a few minutes to realize.

"I like your sweatshirt," A shit eating grin was plastered on his face. "I have the same one, but I seem to have lost it."

"Well, I hope you find it! It's very comfortable!"

"Yeah. I know!"

"You looked great out there! I can't wait to see the final commercial. When does it come out?"

"Thank you! Yeah, I'm not sure, but I'm sure you'll all see pictures soon!" He turned to everyone else who began cheering. "Say cheese!" He called, holding his phone above his head.

We all huddled together and he snapped a picture. I've seen a few like this on his phone- he never deleted them. He looked at me for a moment longer before asking, shyly, if i wanted a picture too. It would match the ones I already have, sure, this felt different...like a risqué little thing I wasn't supposed to have. Of course I said yes!

"Everybody get home safe, okay? Thanks for coming out and I appreciate your cooperation! I hope to see you guys soon!"

Tim turned his back towards the crowd and whispered something to crowd control guy. He turned back and waved enthusiastically at everyone who was being escorted away, though I couldn't help but notice the ring that suddenly adorned his finger was gesturing towards the ground, the same way you would tell a dog to 'stay.'

I walked impossibly slow behind everyone else, and as they rounded the corner, I fell back, following Mr. Crowd Control. He must know...right? Does everyone who works on these types of projects sign nondisclosure agreements? They must, right?

"Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" Tim laughed, falling in step with us as we made our way through what was left of the make-shift set.

"You're young, you'll be fine!" He tried to act offended and even made Crowd Control chuckle.

"Wanna meet Scorsese?"

"No! I look like a bum!"

"Excuse you!" He laughed, tugging on the sleeve of my sweatshirt. "Come on, it'll be quick, we gotta clear out anyway."

Martin Scorsese was a very nice man, though firm and to the point. He admired Timothee and told me, very sternly, to not let him doubt himself. 'He's going places, just you wait!' All of this I already knew, but nodded along enthusiastically. To Scorsese, I was just a 'childhood friend,' which isn't a lie, and though I don't think he would care who I really was to Tim either way, perhaps it was best that the less people that know the better.

"Thank you for the delivery," Tim smiled, wiggling his fingers in front of him. "but you didn't have to come all the way down here to do that!"

"Fine, give it back!"

"Wait- no!"

We stood quietly in a corner while everyone was packed up, finding any excuse to touch or otherwise look at each other. It wasn't long (enough) until Tim's driver came. The feelings which I had first thing in the morning, that lingered through the day began to return...loneliness began to wash over me as I was desperate to hold him. Regretfully, Tim had a redeye flight to catch and had to be to the airport in a few short hours- there was no way I could ask him to come back home for one more night.

"It's not long this time," I reminded myself. "9 days and he'll be back for 3 weeks!"

Still, I couldn't help myself and I watched as my fingers reached for one of his own.

"Do you mind if we take her home first?"

"Tim-"

"Not at all! We should get going though..."

His driver pulled the car around and I got in on the blindside, just in case. There was a strategy to doing- and therefore getting away with- just about everything in Hollywood. I had so much to learn! I rested my head on his shoulder, fingers interlaced as we rode in silence back to my apartment. It was nice. THIS was the kind of intimacy I was going to miss with him.

9 days, I reminded myself.

The rest of the night was a blur, even more so when the headlights disappeared down the road, and I could no longer see my hand in front of my face though the tears. I could feel the pleasant sting on my lips where they began to swell slightly, and I groaned audibly, desperate to have him back already. This of course made me frustrated because I had no logical reason to cry, so I cried some more and the cycle continued.

I woke up the next morning with a splitting headache but immediately reached for my phone. 10 text messages, 1 missed call.

-I love you! -I'm so fucking lucky to have you in my life! -I'll call you when I land, but it will be late, please don't wait up for me! *1 missed call* -Thank you :) -I miss you already :( -You have no idea how happy I was to see you tonight! -Like, OMGGGG that's my babbyyyyy -Fucking beautiful! -I'm going to go to bed....but I wish you were here! -I love you! I love you! I love you!

I smiled to myself and began reading over the messages before they dropped to the bottom.

-Bien matin, mon amour :)

-TIMOTHEE HAL CHALAMET

-I literally just woke up, there's nothing I could have done yet-

- I FUCKING LOVE YOU

-lol I love you more!

*Incoming FaceTime call*

"Good morning," I yawned at the boy who was still in his own bed.

"Good morning...I don't have to go anywhere for a few more hours...If you want to go back to sleep..."

"Not without you..."

"I'm not hanging up."

I'm happy the world doesn't get to see this side of Timothee Chalamet...this is the type of intimacy that I want to keep all to myself- all the intimate moments for that matter, but even when we're old and grey and celebrating 50 years of marriage, this is the type of thing I'll hold most precious. I am undeniably IN love with him.

My muse. My beautiful boy. My baby. My Timothee.

Mine.

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andy-15-07 · 1 month

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A sick Paul Atredias with fem reader as caretaker 🥺

Comfort in Sickness

pairing: Paul Atreides x reader

masterlist / Dune Masterlist

The dim light of the bedside lamp cast a soft glow across the room, illuminating the figure of Paul Atreides lying in bed, his face pale and drawn with illness. Y/n stood by his side, her heart heavy with worry as she watched over him.

Paul had been struck down with a severe bout of sickness, leaving him weak and bedridden. Y/n had volunteered to take care of him, wanting to repay him for all the times he had been there for her in the past.

She gently brushed a strand of hair away from Paul's forehead, feeling the heat of his fever against her fingertips. His breathing was shallow and labored, and she couldn't help but feel a pang of concern deep in her chest.

"Paul, how are you feeling?" she asked softly, her voice filled with concern.

Paul managed a weak smile, his eyes flickering open to meet hers. "I've been better," he admitted, his voice hoarse with sickness.

Y/n's heart clenched at the sight of him in such a weakened state. Paul was usually so strong and confident, it was hard to see him like this.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" she asked, her voice gentle and reassuring.

Paul shook his head slightly, a small frown creasing his brow. "Just having you here is enough, Y/n. Your presence alone is comforting to me."

Y/n felt her cheeks flush at his words, a warm feeling spreading through her chest. She had always cared deeply for Paul, but she had never realized just how much he meant to her until now.

"I'm not going anywhere, Paul," she promised, squeezing his hand gently. "I'll stay with you until you're feeling better, no matter what."

Paul's eyes softened at her words, a grateful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Thank you, Y/n. You don't know how much that means to me."

As the night wore on, Y/n stayed by Paul's side, doing everything she could to make him comfortable. She brought him cool cloths for his forehead, made him hot tea to soothe his throat, and read to him from his favorite books to help take his mind off his illness.

Despite his weakened state, Paul seemed to grow stronger with each passing hour, his fever slowly receding until he was finally able to drift off into a peaceful sleep.

Y/n watched over him as he slept, a sense of peace washing over her as she realized just how much she cared for him. In that moment, she knew that she would do anything to keep him safe and happy, no matter what.

And as the first light of dawn began to creep through the curtains, Y/n settled down beside Paul, her heart full of love and gratitude for the man lying beside her.

Together, they would face whatever challenges life threw their way, knowing that as long as they had each other, they could overcome anything.

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bonesandchalamet · 1 year

Text

lessons in french- t.chalamet

pairings: timothee chalamet x reader

warnings: google translated French

a/n: first post on this account 😁 my main is @thatsdemko 🫶 feedback is always appreciated xx

“and how do I say ‘I love you’ again?”

“Je t'aime.” he says, mouth full of a buttery croissant you fetched from the bakery across the street. it’s your morning ritual, the boy who lives across town comes to your apartment and you get him “New Yorks finest croissants”— at least that’s how he puts it as.

your recent discovery was of his ability to speak a different language, French that is, and ever since you’ve been begging for lessons due to your upcoming trip to Europe. you could say New York public school systems failed you, as you barely remember a lick of the words he makes you repeat.

“and what about stop making a mess of my sofa.” you scowl brushing the pastry crumbs that scatter the cream colored seats. he mumbled a sorry as he finishes his last bite, a delighted moan escapes his lips.

“why the sudden interest in the language again?” he asks brushing his hands on his pants rather than using the crummy paper napkin that’s already wadded up and disintegrating from the butter of his hands.

“because I’m going to Europe in three weeks! I can’t look like an idiot.”

“certaines choses ne peuvent pas être changées.” he lightly giggles shaking his head watching your face scrunch up trying to dissect the sentence, but you fail. some things can’t be changed

you huff an annoyed sigh, arms crossed over your chest, “I wish I never bought you that croissant years ago.” you joke watching his acting skills come to life as he pretends to be hurt.

“now you’re just being straight up rude, amour.”

—

“so when a nice guy offers me a drink at the club what should I say?”

“J'ai un petit-ami.” the same buttery croissant fills his mouth, he watches you saunter across your tiny New York City living room. he admits, you not knowing any French is fun for him. it means he has all control of what you repeat back and what you write in your journal for the trip. this one might’ve just been the icing on the cake. I have a boyfriend

“J’ai un petit-ami? doesn’t that mean something else?” you question, head cocked to the side watching him shake his head in response as he swallows the pastry.

“nope.” he replies, reaching for the hot coffee you’ve provided him, he slurps the contents watching your pen move vigorously across the page. he thinks it’s cute how focused you are, he loves how close you hold the notebook to your face and how you spell out the words in a way only you will know what they mean.

“so are all French people assholes? I’ve been reading up on your people.”

he laughs, “my people?” he watches the red hue light your face, hands up in defense, “that’s what the internet says!”

he laughs once more telling you to never believe the internet, although he did play you into thinking the words “I have a boyfriend” mean something completely different, so maybe he is apart of that collective group.

—

“repeat it to me once more, amour.”

“Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir?” do you want to sleep with me tonight

he chuckles a little to himself trying to find a serious tone, “that’s exactly what you should say to the cab driver.”

you chuck an orange at him watching his hands go up in defense as he allows the fruit to hit him the arm, two of you laughing, “this isn’t funny, Timmy! I leave in twenty-four hours!”

he watches you collapse against the cream colored sofa beside him, legs extending into his lap, “how am I supposed to order croissants for you across the world?” you bat your eyelids in an affection way, it’s your last hope to get help— the pastry was already the key to his heart. it gets him to do anything.

“what a dilemma that is.” he shakes his head, fingers tangling through his curls that fall in front of his eyes, “just don’t forget your notebook and you’ll be fine. do you remember how to order?”

“un croissant š'il vous plaît.” a croissant please

“tu est parfaite.” you are perfect

—

his phone buzzes in his pocket, it hasn’t even been a full day since you landed in Paris and you’ve been buzzing him like a mad woman. it’s his first time being in your place alone, he’s in charge of watering your plants. he notices you’ve left him money for his croissants and an extra key in case he misplaces the one you already gave him.

“bonjour mon ami how is Paris?” he picks up the phone plopping down onto your cream colored sofa and pressing speaker so he can listen and eat.

“did you know j’ai un petit-ami is I have a boyfriend?! you lied to me!”

he laughs, the familiar sound spreads a smile on your face despite your angry tone, it’s nice to hear him. even if you’ve been texting him, his voice is what you miss right now, “I guess you’re right my people are assholes.”

“damn right, chalamet! and I learned a little something from the bartender last night, tu es un connard!” you are an asshole

“Je t'aime!”

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growup-thatbeautiful · 2 years

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a/n: happy bones and all premiere!! i will not recover from this look anytime soon :))

summary: seeing timothee again at the Bones and All premiere after being away from him.

gravitation

Your knee bounces against the floor anxiously, rustling the skirt of the dress you’re wearing. Honestly, this isn’t where you want to be right now. Getting ready for a promo isn’t exactly your idea of a romantic reunion with your boyfriend, especially because it’s been a month since you’ve seen him.

Of course, you’re proud of him, and you’ll support him wholeheartedly no matter where. You just hoped that seeing him again would require less publicity and cameras.

It doesn’t really matter, though. Not when you’re so close to being in his arms, hearing his voice not distorted by bad signals and time zone hours.

Time moves in bursts and fits, flying by without your consent then deciding to slow down to match the pace of your attempt at even breathing. Finally, after what seems like hours in the hair and makeup chair after hours on a plane, you get the green light.

You don’t make a big entrance like the cast of the movie does: you’re only here to support Timothee. So, it goes relatively unnoticed when you sneak into the red carpet area, trying to get closest to the back as you can.

Immediately, you search for Timothee. He’s standing in the middle with Taylor, laughing at something together. It warms your heart to see him such good friend with someone he’s worked so devoutly with.

Then he sees you.

The cameras don’t matter. The screaming fans, the people shouting his name don’t matter. Not when you’re running towards him, looking angelic in a creamy white dress, gold bands around your arms, mouthing his name. The rest of the world goes silent as you touch his arm and look into his eyes, a dull ringing filling your ears. All you knows how to do is breathe in time with him and crush him right against your chest.

The flashes and shutters that capture your reunion are background to the sound of his heartbeat, his voice saying your name like a prayer.

“I missed you so fucking much,” he murmurs into your cheek, hand cupping your waist gently. “I’m never letting you go to work again, I swear.” You laugh and hold him closer to you, the skin of his back warm and smooth, uncovered by the red fabric.

Reluctantly, you let him go and turn to the crowd, shrugging with a grin and clasping Timothee’s hand in yours. You work together easily, posing and smiling for pictures, his hand on your back, supporting you.

“I’m going to go stand to the side,” you tell him after the pictures are taken. This isn’t your moments, it’s his and all of the other people who worked so hard on the movie’s. “I’ve already taken enough of the spotlight.”

He frowns and keeps you near. “You’re not stealing anything. I want you. Here. By my side.”

“I can be by your side metaphorically,” you suggest. “From over there.”

“But-don’t you want to to be with me?” You heart breaks at the crushed sound of his voice.

“I do, baby, I promise I do. But this isn’t my day, it’s yours,” you say softly, smiling at him. “Nothing would make me happier than watching you do your thing.”

“Are you sure?” he asks uncertainly. “I know we haven’t seen each other in forever.”

“Of course.” It’s easy, putting yourself aside for him. “We can catch up later. I’ve waited a month to see you, I can wait a few more hours. I promise.”

He still doesn’t look convinced, but you try your best to smile at him reassuringly. “I’m not going to keep you to myself, as much as I want to. I get to see you all the time, some of these people will never have the chance to see you again. Let me do this for you, for you.”

Finally, finally, he smiles and brings your hand up to kiss your knuckles gently. “Thank you, baby. You never cease to amaze me.”

“I hope I never do,” you grin, taking a step back. Before walking away, you add, “You look good, baby.” His smile widens and he clasps his hands in front of him, looking pleased. “I like the red.”

“I had to do something to catch your eye,” he responds with a grin, adding a flourish and gesturing to himself. “Do you think it worked?”

“I do,” you laugh. “But you don’t have to dress up to make me notice you. You’re hot shit, no matter what you’re wearing.”

“You really know how to make a guy feel special,” he deadpans.

“I try my hardest.” With that, you turn and walk away, leaving him to greet his fans.

He can call you selfless all he wants, but you would never complain. Watching him with fans is one of your favorite things to do; it’s one of your favorite things about him too. He’s always so enthusiastic and genuinely excited to see them. It’s refreshing and enduring as shit.

Eventually, he’s whisked inside, where food and drinks are waiting. You follow along behind, taking a champagne glass between your fingers.

You’re looking around, trying to find Timothee, when strong arms wrap around you and words are whispered in your ear. “Hi, honey.” You melt into him, going lax again his back, letting him take your weight.

“Hi, baby. How’s your night going?” You lean your head backwards against his shoulder, his hair tickling your cheek.

“Good,” he breathes, turning you around in his arms to face him. “Yours?”

“Perfect,” you smile, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. It falls right back into his eyes, and you leave it as is. “Can’t wait to see the movie. I know you worked hard.”

He hums in agreement runs his hands along your arms, sharing them up and down. “I’m excited for you to see it. Then, afterwards, I’m all yours, whatever you want to do with me.”

“Promises, promises,” you joke. The silk of his shirt is cool and smooth underneath your fingertips as you drag your hands up his chest. “Don’t rush because of me. Take your time and do all that fancy movie talking you like to do. I’ll be there by your side to listen to you, but no promises on chiming in.”

“Right now all I want to do is curl up in our bed and watch old movies all night,” he admits softly. You know that your eyes are soft and adoring, focused only on him.

“As fucking amazing as that sounds, I think we should probably see this to the end. You know, because it’s your movie and all.” You can’t keep the fondness from creeping into your voice as you continue. “It looks like you’re having fun, Timmy. I’ll be here when you’re done. Old movies and cuddles can happen any night, this only happens once. Enjoy it.”

“Why do you have to make so much sense?” he sighs, pouting like a little kid.

“Because one of us has to,” you say, matter-of-fact. “And it’s not you.”

With a grin, he accepts his role and brightens. “I have something for you.” He produces the pair of black sunglasses he was wearing earlier and holds them out to you.

“Your sunglasses?” you ask skeptically, the edge of a smile on your face.

“Yep,” he says, popping the ‘p.’ He unfolds them and places them on your head, smiling widely and looking pleased with himself. “There.”

You can’t help the way you smile at him. You also can’t help how you gravitate towards him the rest of the night, staying as close as you can without hovering. Timothee would never complain about you being close to him, but you want to give him his space, his night.

You’ll be here when it’s over, waiting with open arms for him to be just yours. But right now, the world is waiting for him, wanting to see him, and you’re happy to step back. Everyone gets caught in his pull, his gravity, yourself included. That’s something you’ve come to accept, you’ve grown to work around. It’s taken years, it’s taken effort, but it’s worth it to see him smile. To see him succeed.

At the end of the day, you’re the one he comes home to. The one he slow dances with in the kitchen and curls up with under heavy blankets.

He’s your gravity and you’re his orbital, chasing him around, happy to be a part of his life.

#timothee chalamet x y/n #timothee x you #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothee chalamet fic #timothee chalamet fanfic #timothee fanfic #timothee fic #timothee fanfiction #timothee chalamet x you #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet fluff

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