NSFW Timothée Chalamet One Shots

Bagel

Pairing - Timothée Chalamet/Fem!reader

Warnings - smut, use of safe word, rough sex, oral (female receiving), injury, panic attack

"It. Is. For. Fucking. Work. Timothée," I punctuated each word. He rolled his eyes, they were dark with anger.

I was a music artist. After a couple studio albums I was ready to do a Christmas Album. I'd invited Timothée to a celebratory party for just having finished the first music video for the album. The whole place was decked out in Christmas decorations. My Twitter and insta were full of sneak peeks to drive up excitement.

Timmy had been fine until, Conner, the boy who played my love interest in the music video, had pulled me under a mistletoe. Timothée understood I had to be romantic with others for work, but he didn't consider this work. I had kissed Conner's cheek and one of the producers had caught it on camera. They'd posted it to my company's Instagram with the caption "Christmas in June? Xoxoxo."

Timothée was furious. He'd demanded I tell the producer to take it down. I'd told him it was platonic, and it would look good to have a positive relationship with people behind the scenes. He didn't agree and so we had started a fight in the car that had lasted as we'd slammed our way into our house.

"That doesn't qualify as work!" Timothée snapped.

"It was platonic! Conner is my friend."

"Oh, whatever," he scoffed. "You'd be furious with me if I did the same for work."

"Speaking of that," I whirled around. "I've been meaning to say. You're never fucking home. We haven't had a date night in weeks. Why are you never here?"

"It. Is. For. Fucking. Work. Y/N," he mimicked my words.

"No, because you had a weekend off last week and you weren't here at all!"

"You're not the only person I spend my time with," he retorted. "I'm allowed to do other things on my day off!"

"Yes, you are," I agreed. "Just like I'm allowed to promote my album."

"Fuck you!" Was the only response he could come up with.

"I wish you would Timothée, but it's been me and my vibrator for weeks now," I scoffed. I turned to go to our bedroom to peel off the insanely tight dress I wore, but I was stopped.

Timothée whirled me around, lips crashing onto mine. His hands were everywhere on me, squeezing my skin in an almost painful manner. I bit his lip harshly and he hissed, backing me up so I was against the wall.

I pulled his hair, and he pulled mine back. We poured our frustration into our movements.

"You're an idiot," I whined as he mouthed down my neck, leaving purple marks in his wake.

"Yeah, well, you're a piece of shit," he chuckled back darkly.

"Fuck me," I demanded. I was already wet for him.

He whirled me around so that I against the wall. He lifted up my dress and I heard the jangle of his belt. I rubbed my thighs together in anticipation. His fingers swiped through my folds.

"So wet for me, you like it rough? You like it mean?"

"Get on with it," I snarled.

"So demanding," he chuckled.

I felt the tip of his cock teasing my entrance. He moved in at a torturously slow pace so I could feel every vein of him. I held back a groan so he wouldn't get the satisfaction of hearing me.