Timothèe Chalamet Imagines

✩after the premiere✩

Dropping our hands, he continues holding mine as we walk over to a few people, saying goodbye.

Twenty minutes later, when we're finally, finally back to his apartment, we hurry inside, panting. He's on the top level, so we practically ran up the stairs. He unlocks the door and opens it quickly, pulling me in and slamming it shut behind us. He kicks off his boots and strides over to me. I throw my heels, (which I took off down in the lobby so that I could run up the stairs), on his living room floor just before his lips collide with mine. He holds my face in one hand, his palm and fingers covering the entire side of it.

We stumble our way into his bedroom. The window is open, and the drapes flutter in the summer breeze. The air is warm and smells sweet, and we have a perfect view of the lit up Eiffel Tower. I turn away from the view and back to him. He's standing only a few feet past the doorway, panting lightly and staring at both me and the view.

"My life is so perfect," he says, with a small smile. He walks over to me and starts kissing me gently, which doesn't last because of how desperate we are for each other. It was really hard to keep it platonic tonight.

I tear off his beautiful, silky suit in a frenzy, tugging down his pants while he twists his fingers around the zipper of my dress, starting to yank it down.

"Fuck, I've been waiting to tear this pretty dress of of you the whole night," he mumbles between pants against my lips.

He pushes me lightly onto the bed so that I'm laying on my back, and crawls over to me, only in his boxers now. He pulls my dress of completely, throwing it on the floor, and grins at the fact that I'm not wearing anything underneath it. The dress was incredibly expensive - but right now I couldn't care less that it's crumpled up.

He crawls up to my face, supporting himself with his arms on either side of me and lowering himself to kiss me again. One of his hands meets my waist and he slowly drags his long fingers up my side, lightly running his hand over my breasts exactly the way I like it.

I moan with pleasure when he trails his soft lips down my neck, between my breasts, over my stomach, and to my center, positioning his head between my legs.

"Is this okay?" he asks, before doing anything.

"Yes, please," I moan, closing my eyes and throwing my head back against the pillow. The feeling of his breath so near me almost sends me over the edge right there.

He kisses my inner thighs gently before leaving small kisses over my throbbing heat, running his tongue between my folds.

"You're so fucking wet," he almost growls, pulling away slightly. I reach down and wrap my fingers in his curls, pushing his head and urging him to continue. I feel him grin against me as he does, smirking at my desperation. When he trails one long finger up my thigh and starts circling it around me, my legs start to shake. He enters his slender finger into me, pumping it in and out slowly.

"Timothée," I moan, twisting my fingers harder in his curls. I can barely take the tense knot in the pit of my stomach anymore. I need him. "Please fuck me now," I say breathily. He pulls away from me completely and shifts himself back up so that he's hovering over my face again.

"Look at you... I can see your cheeks all flushed even in the dark," he whispers, his glistening lips only inches from mine.

"This is just what you do to me," I whisper back. He connects our lips, sliding his tongue against mine.

"See how sweet you taste?" he asks, breaking the kiss. I don't answer, I just wrap my hands around his neck and pull him back to me. I trail my hand down his bare, smooth chest and over his boxers. He inhales deeply through his nose when I run my fingers over his hardened length, palming him. I slip my fingers through the top of his waistband and begin to jerk him off, tugging his boxers all the way down with my other hand. He kicks them off, never breaking our kiss.

Pre-cum beads at his swollen tip, and I swirl it around him with my thumb.

His breath hitches and his kisses get sloppier and more desperate at this.

"I need to feel you around me," he grumbles against me.

"Please," I say. I am practically dripping for him.

I move my hands up to his shoulders, gripping him tightly. He guides himself to my entrance

"Are you ready?" he asks me. His breath is heavy, and I place my palm against his chest. His heart beats a mile a minute under my hand.

"Yes," I say, needing him to break the tension in me.

He slowly plunges into me, his length filling me up completely. I moan loudly, unable to contain myself. His eyes flutter shut and his lips part before he sinks his head down and into my neck, leaving kisses there.

He gives me a moment to adjust to his length before he speaks into my ear.

"Can I move?" he asks, his voice raspy.

"Please do," I say.

He slowly thrusts into me again, and again, and again.

"Fuck, you feel so good around me. I love you so much," he tells me. My hands are still squeezing his shoulders, and I tighten my grip on him in desperation.

I start moving my hips in rhythm with his thrusts, which quicken.

"You're so wet just for me," he moans into my neck.

"Feels... so... good..." I manage to say between deep, ragged breaths. He holds himself up again, pulling his head away from my neck so that he's hovering over my face again. He hungrily presses his lips to mine, bucking his hips into me.

I feel myself start to quiver as he pounds into me, hitting me in a deeper spot than ever before.

"Oh Timothée... I'm going to... cum if you keep doing that," I say.

"Good," he almost growls, his voice low. He presses his lips back to mine for the thousandth time tonight and I feel my legs start to shake. I reach my high, moaning against his lips and clutching his curls as if my life depends on it. Waves of pleasure crash through my body, and a feeling of pure satisfaction takes over my desperate need for him.

"S-shit," he says, still pounding into me. A tear escapes one of my eyes and rolls down the side of my temple at the over stimulation. His eyes flutter shut, his long eyelashes casting shadows over his hallow cheeks as I feel him still and twitch inside of me, filling me with his cum.

He crashes down against my chest, his head resting just below my neck so that his curls tickle my chin. We both lay there, panting together and feeling our hot skin pressed against each other for a moment.

"That was... so good..." he says, still panting, his head turned to the side, looking out the window that gives us a full view of the lit Eiffel Tower.

"It really was," I say. I bring my fingers up to his hair, toying with it while we lay.

"I'm gonna pull out now," he says after a while. With effort, he holds himself up again and pulls out of me slowly. I instantly miss the feeling of being so full.

He looks down.

"That's a lot of... mess," he says, with a small grin. "One second." He rolls off the bed, still completely naked, and leaves the bedroom momentarily. I stay on my back, motionless, just staring out the window at the beautiful view.

He comes back seconds later with a damp washcloth in hand.

"Here," he says. He kneels over me and presses the damp washcloth against me, wiping everything off. I hiss at the pressure and the coolness of the cloth. "Sorry," he remarks, wiping me off completely and tossing the washcloth haphazardly onto the floor.

He climbs back up to me and lays next to me, extending his arm on the pillow above me. I move my head up and lay on his arm. I wrap my arm around his bare torso, and kiss him gently on the lips.

"I love you," I whisper to him.

"I love you too," he says, wrapping his free arm around me and tugging me close.

This is how we fall asleep, the night, summer breeze dancing against our bare bodies, holding each other close and whispering as we drift off.

I'm going to hell.