Long Timothee Chalamet Stories

Our Style (The End)

Info - shaving, hair brushing, mentions of cheating, asking for forgiveness, toxic ex, unprotected sex

"Get back here right now," I demanded of Timothée. He was swaying in the hallway. He didn't protest as I grabbed his hand. I pulled him with me to the bathroom.

"What's going on?" He asked dismally.

"Stay here," I snapped and went and got a chair. I forced him to sit in it. I lathered up my wild berry shaving cream in my hand and got a new razor. I gently spread the cream on his face and rinsed my hand.

"You look better clean-shaven," I told him. He was staring at me with awe in his expression. I began to carefully, shave his face.

"You're always so nice to me, even when I'm not nice to you," he said as I continued.

"To be fair, most of the time you are nice to me," I said and showed him my ring with a wry smile.

"You're still wearing it?"

"Of course," I smiled.

"I'm sorry for how I've been acting, I realized I never said that," he said meekly.

"I forgive you, I can't say I get it, but I forgive you," I said as I gently wiped his face. I stood up next and got a brush. I began to work at the tangled knots.

"You skipped the red carpet last week," I said quietly.

"I knew no matter what I wore, it wouldn't be as good as something you designed," he said softly. We were quiet again for a bit.

"So you don't miss Alyssa I take it?" I asked, thinking of how dramatic he'd been.

"No, not at all, it's weird. I really thought I loved her. I think I loved the idea of her, and was afraid to be single. I've realized she didn't treat me very nicely. She was always talking about how certain things I did embarrassed her, and how lucky I was to date her because she was a serious artist and only teen girls liked me."

"Pfft, that's not even true," I said. "I'm sorry she was unkind."

"It's okay, I may have deserved it with how I acted to you."

"Hey," I said, going in front of him to look him in the eyes. "One bad choice isn't the same as abusing your partner okay?" I said, caressing his cheek.

"You're really nice," he said with teary eyes.

"Thank you, so are you," I said. "But you're all done. I couldn't have Timothée Chalamet coming out of my house looking like that, I have a reputation to uphold." I winked at him.

"So I go?" He asked.

"Wasn't that what you were doing?" I asked.

"I-I don't want to go," he mumbled.

"Well you're going to have to kiss me if you stay, Thats the rule," I joked.

"You'd let me after what I did?"

"Timothée I told you I loved you. It seems like you feel the same way. Let's forget all that not good enough, cheating, blow up shit huh? Let's just be together," I begged.

"So, all water under the bridge?"

"Water under the bridge," I nodded, moving closer to him.

"So it's okay if I love you, it's okay if I think your the kindest person I've ever met, and it's okay if I can't stop thinking about how nice your lips felt on mine?"

I straddled him again, and he looked mesmerized. His hands brushed my sides with reverence.

"It's all okay. Is it okay if I want you to fuck me like seven times in a row?" I giggled.

"Oh thank god I thought I was the only one," he laughed.

"Definitely not!" I said as I kissed him. We were smiling and our teeth were knocking together but I didn't care. His hands were all over me and I loved it so much. The feel of him was better than I'd imagined.

"Your lips are so soft and sweet, I feel like they've enchanted me," he groaned and sparks flew inside me.

He picked me up and I giggled as he carried me to the bed. He kissed my throat as he unbuttoned my top. I slipped my hands under his shirt and felt his skin. I shuddered in anticipation. It didn't take long for the both of us to be naked. He panted as he stared at my body with hunger in his eyes.

"I've never wanted to ravish someone more," he moaned.

"Then do it, in our style Timothée," I begged and he was sheathing himself inside me. He pulled my hips forward so he could fuck me better. He still stood but I watched his legs buckle a bit with the first thrust.

"And what is our style Mon amour?" He asked.

"A little French," I stuttered as he began to ram his hips into me.

"A bit Androgynous," he continued.

"Very special," I breathed, as I grabbed his arm to steady me. I felt like my world was spinning in the best way possible.

"Unique of course," he smiled and bent down to suck on my nipples as his hips continued working towards their goal.

"Never been done before, shit, you feel so good," I whined.

"Uhhhh, fuck, god-like, like this fucking cunt," he gasped. Then he was pushing me up further on the bed and was hovering over me as his hips rolled.

"I really make you feel good?" I asked.

"So good," he said breathlessly and began kissing me again adoringly.

"I like our style," I whispered to him as he pressed his forehead to mine.

"Me too," he agreed. We came together, clinging to one another as everything else shattered. We moaned each other's names only to roll over and begin again.

Our style took the fashion world by storm. Everyone was clambering for our creations. Being mind mates and soul mates really helped make our creations blossom.