Timothée Chalamet Imagines

-Storage Closet-

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''Shhh, Timmy, we can't get caught.'' I said in between kisses. We roughly bumped into a random table in the storage closet, making a few cleaning things fall down with loud thuds.

''Y/N, don't worry. No one will even notice we're here.'' He reattached his lips to my neck while his hands roamed around my body, squeezing every part he could. I moaned against him when his hands found my breasts, his thumb rubbing my hard nipple through my bralette.

I pushed him against one of the empty walls and grinded my body against his, my center rubbing over his hardening clothed cock.

''Fuck, keep doing that and I'm gonna come in my jocks.'' He groaned. His lips never left mine, and if it wasn't for the bell, we would've fucked right then and there.

I quickly pulled my head away and stepped back, the sudden cold of his absence hitting me. I smiled cheekily, and he knew I exactly what I was doing.

''You're seriously gonna leave me like this?'' He said disappointedly. He looked down at his utterly painful state with a grumpy look on his face. I smirked and gave his crotch a light squeeze before I pressed a quick last kiss on his lips.

''You're gonna regret this.'' He said, his voice dropping an octave. I was still smiling like an idiot, totally not impressed.

''Is that a threat, Timothée?'' I dared. I opened the door, hoping no one would see me leave the closet, before I turned back to Timmy one last time.

'Oh no, baby. It's a promise.''

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*Ben Hardy's voice* this is shit. ;)

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