NSFW Timothée Chalamet One Shots

Mine

Warnings - jealousy, smut, unprotected sex, knife play kinda, nipple clamps, oral (female receiving), possessive, writing on partner, secretly dating, reader with big boobs.

Timothée and I had recently been in a movie together. We had been talked about all over for our attractiveness together. No one knew we were secretly dating. We'd been asked to come on thirst tweets, and read the tweets to one another. I was so excited to see how red my boy would get.

I knew what the vast majority of mine would be about. I'd had big breasts since I was young. My double Ds had been the topic of many magazines, internet write ups, etc. Timothée loved them. He was borderline obsessed with them. I'd never had someone so content to suck on them for so long.

"Callmebyyourass says 'Timothée Chalamet really got his tiddies out, and you know what, I got my vibrator out. Evening plans cancelled.'," I read aloud. Timothée was bright pink and laughing.

"I wasn't trying to ruin people's evenings," he choked out.

"Oh it sounds like her evening went just fine," I chuckled.

"KevinofTwitter says 'is there a place you can volunteer to be a bra for, Y/N Y/L/N? I need to hold those boobies.'," Timothée read out. I was laughing, but I didn't see him crack a smile. The tweet was so juvenile.

"I have one by Twinkforsale that reads 'Timothée Chalamet is the type of fine that would make me ruin my life, empty my bank account, and thank him for spitting on me.'," I chuckled.

"I think, I uh, have been called the Patron Saint of Twinks before," he giggled. However, I saw his leg bouncing. I knew him well enough by now to decipher the meaning behind his fidgeting. This was horny leg jiggling, and I gave him an odd look.

"User Ibiteback900 has written 'I would sell my soul to have y/n sit on my face, or just to get her to flash me her tits.'," Timothée growled out.

"I think your soul is under paying," Timothée remarked, to my surprise.

"That's high praise," I laughed, but he was not enjoying himself.

The rest of the interview went similarly. Timothée seemed to grow angrier with each tweet he read about me. He wasn't normally this possessive. I'd come prepared, I knew some people would say some pretty crazy stuff about my boyfriend. At the end of the day, it was me he was fucking.

When we exited the interview, Timothée took my hand harshly. It seemed he didn't care who saw, as he dragged me into the hotel. He didn't speak on the elevator. He promptly pulled me into his hotel suite.

Once in the room, I was being pressed against the door. His lips were ravishing mine. I let him take me over.

"Jealous are we?" I panted, once he'd moved back.

"I did not enjoy that," he snapped.

"It was all fun and games Timmy," I said. He was angrily going over to his bag.

"It wasn't, they're all salivating over you. All those mother fuckers with their dicks in their hands," he said, finally finding what he was looking for. I couldn't see what it was.

"Hey," I said reproachfully. "There were definitely some girls in there too."

"Well," he said simply. "You're mine."

"Yes, I know Timothée. That's why this all is a bit sill"

I was cut off by him cutting away my shirt. He had even managed to cut my bra off. I was now completely topless, and he had something else in his hand.

"Hey! I liked that shirt, and I really liked that bra," I snapped.

"I'll buy you new ones," he said simply.

"Alright, moneybags," I rolled my eyes at his drama. He was getting out the other thing. I gasped when he attached a mini clamp to my left nipple. Soon, he was putting one on the right nipple.

"Timmy," I gasped. He was leading me over to the bed.

He started with my breasts, they had gotten the most attention. He made eye contact with me as his tongue teased my now pebbled flesh. The extra sensation of the clamps made me moan.

"Who do these belong to?" He asked as he massaged handfuls of my breasts.

"You," I pledged.

"That's right, Timothée Chalamet, I'm the only one who gets to touch them. Im the only one who gets to lick them," he proclaimed.

I began to pant as he leaned down again and began to suck on my flesh. I knew he'd have to suck hard to create a mark on me in that spot. That was what he did, he suckled hard, sometimes using teeth. I was a moaning wreck, the clamps only increasing my pleasure.

After he had given both breasts a hickey, he reached to his bedside table. I saw him grab a marker. He bit his lip as he began to write on my stomach.

"Timothée Chalamet's property," it said, with two arrows pointing up at my boobs.

"You're so ridiculous," I chuckled.

He wrote "mine" with an arrow directed toward my heat, on my lower stomach. He seemed satisfied, and kissed me, long and hard.

Then he was lowering himself, so his mouth was waiting at my cunt. He was making eye contact with me, and it made me shudder.

"Who does your cunt belong to?" He asked.

"You," I told him.

"Who makes it wet? Who cums in it? Who makes you feel so good you scream?" He demanded.

"You, all you," I said desperately.

With that assurance, he dove in. His tongue was magic as it swirled inside me. I groaned, pulling his curls. His tongue flicked and glided through me. He was moaning into my heat as I yanked on his curls.

"Play with your nipples, and say my name," he requested, coming up for a moment.

I lightly tapped my sensitive nipples, creating a rhythm. I said his name as I massaged myself. His tongue was going faster. Finally, I felt myself falling off the edge into bliss. I screamed his name, as I ground my pussy into his face.

He came up with a dark smile, and wiped the back of his mouth. I was still quivering from my orgasm as he entered me.

He was rutting down into me as his mouth traced my caged nipples. I was meeting his thrusts, pleasure coursing through my veins as he fucked me. His cock slammed into me, making me whimper with every thrust.

"Who do you belong to?" He demanded, popping off my nipples.

"You, to you, only to you," I heaved.

"Would you ever take another cock, would you ever take another mouth?"

"Never, only yours," I promised.

"All those dead beats on Twitter don't even know what you taste like. They don't get to watch your boobs bounce while I plunge into you. But who gets to do that? Say my name! Who is it?"

"Timothée, oh, Timothée Chalamet," I moaned.

"That's right," he agreed.

"Who gets to suck on your breasts anytime he wants?"

"Just you, only you."

Then he was releasing my nipples from their clamps. I was shocked at the feeling of pleasure once the blood flow was no longer restricted. He dove down, taking my nipple in his mouth. The sensation had me falling into my orgasm. My walls were spasming around him. He cursed and then he was painting my insides white with six heavy, hot, ropes of cum.

"All mine," he murmured as he came down.