Long Timothee Chalamet Stories

His Secret Job (The end)

Info - argument, being kicked out of apartment, job shaming someone, losing friend, poor mental health, drinking and being drunk, hypocrisy, confession, oral (female receiving) self doubt, quitting job, unprotected sex, afraid of future, unsupportive parents

"Love me?" He asked in confusion.

"Yes, I'm in love with you, and knowing you're still fucking other people and I'm basically a pawn to make you more popular, it's so hard."

"I'm not sure what to say," he said in a small voice.

"Because, because you don't feel the same way do you?" I asked softly.

"Y/n, you have to understand my job is my life," he said desperately.

"PORN is your life?" I asked him.

"Yeah, it is, judgmental much?" He asked.

"What about friends, family, hobbies?" I demanded of him.

"You don't know those things about me," he snarled.

"Are you kidding? You took me to meet Angelo, your best friend last week. We went clubbing and you danced with me. Last time I was in this room you talked to me about your favorite books, hell this room has practically been where most of our dates have happened, because you know what helps calm me down Timothée, talking to you. More than your cock, or your hands, or music, or fans or fucking massages, it's you and your personality is what gives me peace. You're always so kind and nice to me."

"I'm just good at my job," he growled, not looking in my eyes.

"Listen Timothée, the only reason I haven't met your parents is because you're estranged from them, but I overheard you telling your sister you wanted her to meet me."

"Just be fucking quiet," he said desperately.

"Why?" I asked getting off the recovery table. "Am I making too much sense?"

"Stop!"

"No, I fight for what I want, unlike you!"

"Unlike me? Unlike me?" He screamed. "Get the fuck out of here, I swear to God, don't say that shit to me ever again."

"Whatever Timothée," I said and got dressed. I left and walked home. I slammed the door shut not thinking of Ife. However, I didn't need to worry about her because she sat at the kitchen table.

"Where were you?" She asked softly.

"Huh?" I asked nervously.

"Where were you?" Her voice was suspicious.

"I-um, I went for a walk," I said, not looking in her eyes.

"Were you? Or were you lying to me again. I know y/n, I know it all. You and Timothée are fucking, not just fucking, making porn! Do you know how that could get connected back to me? You know I want to work with kids one day."

"I didn't think about that," I said honestly.

"Of course you didn't, I suppose you also didn't think about fucking him when you knew I liked him too. It'd be one thing if you let me know but instead you isolate me and hang out with him constantly."

"You can't have it both ways," I snapped. "You can't shame me for doing porn with him and then admonish me because I didn't tell you when you would've never touched him if you knew he did porn."

"I just wanted honesty, don't worry I'm pissed at him too. That sort of job can have dire consequences on the participants and people close to them. You made me feel like an idiot. Most of the time I worried the two of you were making fun of me."