MiniSeries About Timothee Chalamet

Someone Else P3

Info - single mom reader, Timmy trying to earn love, mentions of love making, kid cursing, cock warming for comfort, rekindling relationship, using safe word, guilt and sorrow

"Mommy, Santa daddy!" Hal pointed to Timothée with soap bubbles on his face.

"Yes, he looks very handsome," I agreed.

"Will daddy be here for Christmas?" Asked Hal.

"I don't know, will Daddy be here for Christmas?" I asked. He looked horrified.

"Of course daddy will be here for Christmas," he said earnestly.

"Hanukkah!" Squeaked Hal.

"Both buddy," He said with a smile. He began to wet his hair so he could wash it.

"Shit, he really does look like a tiny me," he said in awe.

"Shit, does look like me," Hal imitated in a deeper voice. Timothée paled and I couldn't help but laugh.

"Look what you've done now Mr.," I said sternly.

"That's a bad word, daddy shouldn't have said it," Timothée said.

"Bad words, bad words, bad words!" He sung, slapping the bubbles.

"Alright Hal, beddy bie," he said, throwing him over his shoulder and putting him to bed. Watching Timothée parent made me extremely horny.

"Hey, Timmy, would you want to sleep in the bed with me tonight?" I asked.

"Really!" He asked excitedly.

"Yeah, I mean I did mention some intense silly time if you're down."

"Fuck yes, shit I need to watch my language," he said.

"Don't worry about it Timmy, we can just teach him to use it sparingly," I smiled.

"I like when you say we, because I'm not leaving," he said excitedly.

I pulled him into the room. He pressed me against the door and kissed me excitedly. His hands went up my shirt and I sighed happily. No one else had ever affected me like him.

"I adore you, I'm sorry it's taken so long for me to express it," I said, my hands sliding up his top.

"Take as long as you want as long as it ends with us," he said happily. We kissed some more, it was as intense as we'd been since that day in the street, When Hal had found his daddy.

"Mmm, I'm glad you're back. It's so much less lonely," I said, and I found it odd that he didn't answer. I slipped my hand down his pants.

"Fuck, fuck, bagel, bagel," he said our old safe word. I pulled my hand away immediately and backed away, holding my hands up in defense.

"I'm sorry, I just," he burst into tears.

"Timothée, oh, Timmy," I came to him, touching him lightly in case he didn't want it. He pulled me to him in a bone crushing hug.

"I'm so sorry. I feel like an asshole all the time. I can't believe how much I missed. I missed celebrating the pregnancy, I missed feeling him kick or the sonogram, I missed his birth. I missed spoiling you after. I missed his first word and step. Fuck, I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry. I can't do this. The first time we're truly together again I was to make passionate adoring love to you. I want to wine and dine you, I want to do everything for your pleasure."

"Okay, it's okay, I understand. But Timothée, just know I forgive you. You've proven you've changed. It's been months with no sex, and no work, and you're still just as attentive and sweet."

"You really do?"

"Yes, how about we do the thing you used to need when you were sad? We don't have to count it," I said and I removed my skirt. He looked at me with such relief I wondered if he'd cry again.

"Really, you'd let me," he said, holding a hand to his heart.

"Of course," I said, and took off his bottoms as well. We climbed into bed and he carefully entered me.

"Shit, I may cum on accident, sorry if that happens I just forgot how good you feel," he swore.

"That's okay, we still don't have to count it," I said as I combed his hair with my fingers. We fell asleep together for the first time in ages