SFW Timothee Chalamet and Reader Imagines

Cursing

Warnings - lots of cursing, allusions to smut

"You really can't do it this time you two," the director snapped. Timothée and I snickered, looking at one another.

"It really isn't intentional," Timothée said, palms up.

"It's bad for press," the director said, rolling his eyes.

"We do it all the time in our personal lives, it's hard to turn off," I said.

"Well try. I'm getting really tired of the constant flirting. Maybe if you two would fuck and get it over with, you'll be easier to deal with."

Timothée and I were mortified at the directors words. I couldn't look him in the eye.

"Now you've got me doing it too," the director threw his hands up.

Timothée and I went out to the crowd heads held low. We had to turn on the charm for the interviewers. I decided since the director had humiliated me like that, I was going to curse as much as I fucking pleased, and maybe a little extra.

"How has it been working with Timothée," asked the interviewer.

"Fucking amazing," I said with a Cheshire smile. I saw the director face palm. I looked at Timmy and winked.

"Oh, Um, that's great," the interviewer said.

"So Timothée how did you get into character for this part?"

"I mean I read the book, which was cool as shit. Then reading lines with y/n worked like a fucking charm, because she's so good," Timothée elaborated.

"Maybe you should ask me some questions," requested the director, trying to salvage the interview.

"You should, he's a damn great director. He really made this movie his bitch," I said and watched Timmy try hard to stifle his laughter.

We went on like that the whole time. At the end Timothée and I were falling over each other laughing.

"That line about making the movie his bitch, you're amazing," Timothée cackled.

"No you're amazing, what about when you said I was the coolest mother fucker you knew," I sputtered.

"Nah, yours was better," Timothée said leaning against the wall next to his hotel door.

"No way," I said. Then all of a sudden he was lunging for me. Our mouths were slammed together. Our tongues did a wild dance as I moved my hands all through his hair.

"Yours or mine?" He panted.

"Yours is closer," I moaned, as he lead me into his room.