Very Busy

Very Busy

Pairing: Timothée Chalamet x f!Reader. Summary: Desperate reader rides Timmy’s thigh while he’s working. Warnings: Smut, Dom!Timmy, thigh riding, language, teasing, begging. Word count: 635 A/N: Idk this one is mild as far as smut goes but pop off ig.

“Hi, Timmy,” you said, trying to keep your voice as innocent as possible.

“Hello, love,” he hummed. He didn’t look up from his desk, but he sounded pleasantly surprised. Usually, you never bothered him while he was working.

But today, you just couldn't help it.

Today, you needed him.

You crossed the room until you were right next to him, leaning against his desk. “Do you want to hang out with me?”

Finally, he looked up at you. Glanced down at the skirt he knew you had allowed to ride up on purpose. His unamused eyes met yours again before flicking back to the script he’d been analyzing for the past few hours. He could read you like a book; he knew what you wanted.

“Come here,” was all he said. You smirked, knowing exactly how he wanted you. You straddled his right leg, facing him. Your arms wrapped loosely around his neck, your head resting on his shoulder. You began rocking your hips against him.

It couldn’t have been more than five minutes, but you were already frustrated. You weren’t even close yet, and he wasn’t paying any attention to you at all. You stopped moving and huffed out a breath. 

“Need you,” you murmured into his neck.

“Keep going.” That was all the attention you were afforded. His eyes remained focused on scanning the papers in front of him, highlighting all of his lines and occasionally writing notes in the margins.

“But Timmy…” you whined, pulling back. You sat upright as your hand drifted down to his cock. You were not surprised to find it rock solid beneath his pants. “Can’t you just take a teeny tiny break? Please?”

You knew begging was fruitless; Timothée was nothing if not devoted to his job. Still, you figured you’d try to sway him. 

He smirked the tiniest bit; the only indication of your failure to persuade him. Your jaw clenched.

“I’m very busy, mon amour,” he replied. His tone was even, giving no indication that you were affecting him whatsoever. Perhaps that was the part that infuriated you the most. “I need to finish this. But if you’d rather wait until later-”

“No! No…” You pouted. “I can’t wait until later.”

His smirk deepend wickedly. “Then. Keep. Going.”

You huffed again as you returned your arms to their place around his neck and rested your head back down on his shoulder. Your skirt had ridden all the way up to your waist, the moisture that had already gathered between your legs now being contained by only a thin strip of underwear. You hoped you wouldn’t make a mess on his pants. Last time you did that, he wouldn’t let you cum for a week.

You began moving your hips again, the friction relieving some of your tension, but not enough.

“I don’t hear you, dear.”

You released the whimper you hadn’t realized was stuck in the back of your throat. 

“Much better.”

You moaned into his neck again, a little louder this time. He loved hearing you express your pleasure.

You moved faster, really trying to focus this time. Your breathing quickened, your moans becoming more frequent. Timmy lazily dragged a hand up your spine and you gasped. Even the most basic of touches from him could make your toes curl.

Your heart (and hips) raced as you felt your orgasm building. “Pleasepleaseplease-”

“Go ahead, love,” he said gently; affectionately. It was enough to push you over the edge.

You dug your nails into his back and moaned as your orgasm crashed through you. Your entire body trembled. You could still feel him rubbing your back lovingly, his touch sending tingles up and down your spine. 

“Good girl,” he murmured as the aftershocks subsided.

You whimpered again, placing a light kiss on his neck.