" Stop Procrastinating."

" Stop procrastinating."

Oh. Thanks for the advice. I will totally stop procrastinating now. You totally made my life so much easier.

okay i know u were a in a hiatus just some days ago so feel free to ignore this but, i thought of this and for some odd reason it reminded of u and your writing? idk anyway i just thought it would be cute to do something like matching bracelets, or that change your painting every 5 minutes challenge from tiktok or any crafty romantic activities with timothée? it just gives me tiny apartment in paris smoking a cigarette naked in the morning vibes and in my head that’s literally him lol. love ur writing, hope youre doing well beb! <333

Mon Amour || Timothée Chalamet

a/n: i adore this request, u are creative as fuck and allowed in my inbox at anytime lovely :) psa, not my art! those two pics just sort of fit the vibe and the sketch is a reference, i switched up the request just a bit <3 also i listened to la vie en rose by edith piaf while writing, so i feel like it sort of fits the vibe :))

cw: nudity, language, suggestiveness

The white casement windows were slightly ajar, only a few inches above the floor with a bit of space before hitting the ceiling at the top. Through the space you could see the Eiffel Tower in the distance, a light breeze filtering through the small Parisian apartment.

Timothée had purchased it before you’d began dating, but it soon became a home away from home. Between traveling so much and several much needed breaks, you’d both spent a lot of time within the tiny space. It was like a step away from the outside, decorated in a way that could have been easily mistaken for a 90s interior.

Paintings were strung up on the wall, a white blanket skewed over the back of the sage green couch at the forefront of the room. There was no television, only a radio on the windowsill beside the balcony. It was old, lulling the tune to a French theme. The hardwood floor was always like ice in the mornings, clothes thrown all over the ground from the night before.

“Mon doux, mon tendre, mon merveilleux amour—bonjour.”

What a way to wake up, you thought.

Timothée’s voice rasped into your hair, his French accent thick when he fell into it carelessly. It was a good morning you’d never grow tired of, his curls tickling the apples of your cheeks as he leaned into you from his side of the bed. His arm was wrapped around your waist, tightening as you shifted to look at him.

Fortunately, you’d picked up on a bit of the language while staying in France so frequently. Timmy had helped tremendously, teaching you the basics and continuing to show you everyday. You listened to several podcasts in French now, retaining the intricacy of the dialect and articulation.

“Good morning,” you smiled at him.

The white duvet was nearly hanging off the bed, legs intertwined within the milky sheets. You were topless, all but a pair of light pink cotton underwear remaining on your person. He wore a simple pair of grey boxers, hanging low on his hips.

His head was laid on the pillow beside yours, hair spilled across the silk in a mess of dark brown curls. You took a handful of his hair in your hand gently, pushing it out of his face and leaning in to press a chaste kiss to his lips. It was a look you’d never get tired of, his pink cheeks and cluster of small constellations peppering his nose.

The air smelled of sex and vanilla, the hum of music only adding to the ambience. Leaning over to the side table, you planned to pick up your cellphone and snap a quick picture of Timothée. You caught a glimpse of your open sketchbook, though. The tan sheets of paper were littered in drawings, some truly very good.

“Can I draw you?” You asked him, grinning incessantly as he yawned and nodded.

“Draw me like one of your French girls, Jack,” he murmured, referencing the Titanic humorously.

Giggling terribly, you picked up the book and flipped to a clean space. He sat up, leaning back against the headboard and reaching to his own side table. He plucked a cigarette up and stuck it between his lips, lighting the end and inhaling dazedly as you sat up in bed as well.

Going to pluck his white button down off the floor, planning to cover your bare chest, he pulled you back up to him with a shake of the head. You rolled your eyes, leaving your breasts uncovered and maneuvering yourself to straddle his waist.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to seduce me,” you smirked, beginning to sketch out the curve of his jaw.

“You’re sitting on top of me naked, of course I’m trying to fucking seduce you,” he chuckled, taking another drag of the cigarette.

A rush of cold air left a shiver down your spine, his hands rubbing up and down your unclothed torso. You shaded around his nose with a charcoal pencil, it was hard to capture just the right angle of his fluttering eyelashes. In the sketch, his eyes were shut and a look of euphoria was dawning on his features.

He cupped your breasts, running the tip of his index finger along the perky bud of your nipple. This earned a slap in the arm from you, shaping his eyebrows and beginning that mess of wild curls. The song had changed, the buzz of another French melody filling the small space.

You leaned forward, letting him stick the cigarette between your lips and taking in a deep breath. With your non-dominant hand, you pulled it from your lips and flicked the ashes into the tray Timothée held out to you. Handing back the remainder of the stick, you finished shading his Adam’s apple and couldn’t help sitting forward a bit.

Bringing your lips to his bobbing throat, you kissed up his jaw and landed on his lips gently. Sitting up, you finished the last of the sketch and initialed the bottom corner to claim the piece of art. Spinning the pad of paper, you put it on display for his to see.

“I love it, mon amour,” he flushed. “But I can guarantee that my view is a lot better. Can I draw you this time?”

“I can think of at least ten other things we could do,” you whispered, setting the sketchbook back down onto the side table.

taglist - @moonythemilf @pradastardust @xxxlaura @ivegotthepetertingle @pogueslandia @peterparkerbae @beneskataa @reddir14 @cowboywrites @l0versstyles

I walked into my class already ready for it to be over, it was my second year at university and I still get lost as if it's day one. I was the only one in class at the moment and as I'm organizing my things a tall figure walks in catching my eye. 

I couldn't help but stare at the creature in front of me, the most beautiful green eyes, prominent cheek bones, a jaw handmade by God himself, his lips full and pink.. I wonder how they would feel pressed against my body. Before I could catch myself staring the pair of green eyes were staring back at me, a smirk playing on his perfect lips.

I look away, feeling the heat rise not only in my cheeks, as I quickly write anything at all into my journal to avoid further eye contact. I couldn't tell if it was butterflies from him looking at me or pure embarrassment from being caught eye fucking him. I'm so deep in my thoughts I don't even notice him standing right in front of me, I look up almost shocked.

"Do you have a pen?" He says so gently looking into my eyes, that same smirk across his face, I continue staring for a moment unable to make words come out of my mouth, just reaching in my bag to retrieve one. 

"Thanks." He grabs the utensil touching my fingertips as he does so, never breaking his intense stare, "I'm Timothée." He sends me a small smile and his teeth are just as perfect as he is.

"Y/n." I smile back at him.

As time passes the rest of my classmates file in and the lecture begins, all the while I can't help but steal glances at Timothée and every time he's already looking at me, a constant rosy tint across my face, every time. How was I so flustered by this boy I only met an hour ago? 

"Please remember class your essays will be due at midnight Wednesday, no exceptions." The professor finishes, I start packing up my things and get ready to walk out but a hand grabs my arm, I look back.

"Are you doing anything right now?" Timothée asks with a hint of mischief in his eyes. 

"No not at all." I lie knowing I have another class right now, he leads me to the art wing of the university.

"Where are we going exactly?" I look up at him. 

"You'll see." He says with amusement in his voice. 

Soon enough we come to a door 'DO NOT OPEN WHEN LIGHT IS ON' plastered on it. 

 "What is this?" I question, he gets a set of keys out and opens the door to a darkroom. 

He puts his hand on the small of my back ushering me inside the red tinted room and follows closely behind me shutting the door, he starts taking the straps of my bag off my shoulders. 

"You know it's not nice to stare Y/n-" He almost whispers and sits my bag on a chair, I can feel his breath on my neck, "I think you need to be taught some manners." He grabs my chin making me look him in the face inches away from mine. 

"Then teach me some." I challenge him, looking down at his lips which soon came crashing onto mine.

I wrap my hands around his neck gently pulling at the ends of his curly hair, making him moan into my mouth, he picks me up by my ass and clears the table behind us —everything clattering on the floor, and sits me down. He licks my bottom lip and I hungrily grant him entrance and our tongues fight for dominance, he puts a hand on my neck slowly roaming down my body, squeezing my breast. 

I can't contain the extreme tingling between my folds as he peels the cardigan off my body, kissing down my now exposed chest to the hem of my jeans, fiddling around with the button. 

"I need you." I breathe out now gripping his shirt keeping him as close as possible. 

"I'll have to teach you some patience as well, yeah?" He lightly grips my throat biting softly down on my sweet spot.

"Timothée please.." I moan out throwing my head back.

He then starts to undress himself and all I can do is stare, as if life is in slow motion watching him take his shirt off. I bite my lip, eyes hungrily roaming his exposed body. He's left in his boxers and is working my pants down and off my legs, his hands running up my thighs once they're completely discarded. He kisses my inner thigh, kisses the front of my lace panties and pulls them down with his teeth as I watch him with complete lust. 

"Look at how wet you are." He says moving his finger across my overly sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Oh my god." I cry out closing my eyes, he slips a finger inside me causing my breath to hitch, moving it around to make space for the second one he slides in. As he fingers me his tongue suckles on my clit and licks all around. 

"Please don't stop, please." I moan out feeling myself close to climax, my walls tighten around his fingers and he stops completely. 

"You don't cum until I tell you to, understood?" He growls into my ear and goes back to eating me out, I reach down to the large bulge in boxers stroking him through the fabric causing him to moan against my soaking heat.

Just as I feel myself about to climax he kisses back up my body to my lips, his fingers still inside me, slipping his tongue in so I can taste myself.

"You taste so fucking good baby." He mutters out against my lips, "Are you gonna cum for me?" He whispers gripping my neck once more.

"Fuck Timothée-" Was all I could get out before my eyes roll back into my head and I release all over his long fingers moaning out his name over and over.

"Good girl." He kisses my neck and begins stroking himself, lining up with the opening to my now pulsating pussy, "You're gonna keep being a good girl for me, right?" He teases my wet opening with his tip.

"Yes Daddy, I promise." I whimper out, he slowly slides his long shaft deep into me. 

"Fuck you're so fucking tight." He moans out. 

"Fuck, oh my god-" I almost scream out from the mixture of pain and intense pleasure, he continues teasing me moving slowly in and out.

"Fuck me harder, please, please." I beg him, he throws my legs over his shoulders, grips my waist and starts pounding into me hitting the sweet spot inside my body with every thrust.

"Right there, don't stop, god don't stop." I moan out breathless feeling the same warm feeling as earlier.

"You're gonna make me cum baby, fuck." He grunts, his strokes getting sloppier by the second.

"T I'm gonna cum, fuck I'm gonna cum all over you." I moan into his ear scratching down his back leaving trails of red.

“Such a good girl for me baby, so fucking good.” He continues pumping inside of me, my cries enough to send him over the edge as we both release with each other, my wetness dripping down his legs and over the edge of the table.

 Breathing heavy in each other's arms, his face in the crook of my neck leaving gentle kisses.

"Maybe now you won't stare as much." He chuckles out.

"If this is what staring gets me, you better get used to it." I mumble against his lips.

Johnny: My ass hurts.

Sue: [staring at Peter]

Reed: [staring at Peter]

Ben: [staring at Peter]

Deadpool: [also staring at Peter]

Peter: All of you literally just saw him trip and fall on his ass and laugh about it not even a minute ago, what are you looking at me for?

Je T’aime (T.C.)

Another request for the angel, @thestarsaregivenonceonly​ . This is sooo fluffy, but I think we all could use a bit of that right now. Hope you enjoy, doll 😘

(fluffy smut for the soul, jealousy)

Keep reading

I think we can all agree that the miscommunication trope is the fucking worst.

Like literally -9999/10. Would not recommend.

But the fact that Garrett and Hannah from "the deal" just had a conversation And didn't do the whole "avoiding each other after a big argument where neither of us got to talk because we're both dumbasses" just filled me with so much joy.