#sugar baby escapade | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thirtysomethingloser92 · 1 month ago

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Rule 1: If An Opportunity Falls Into Your Lap, You Take It.

There were five rules to being a sugar baby—or so you’d heard.

If an opportunity falls into your lap, you take it.

Everything is purely transactional.

Don’t let the lines blur between your sugar daddy and your personal or professional life.

Never meet anyone in his inner circle—no close friends, no family.

Unless it’s in writing, underlined, signed by two lawyers, and you get a new Hermes handbag afterward, don’t fuck your sugar daddy.

Rule 1: If the opportunity falls into your lap, you take it. If there was one thing you had learn throughout this whole experience, it was this: when the universe threw signs at you to just fucking stay home, you should probably listen.

It was supposed to be a normal Monday. As normal as a Monday could ever be for you, anyway—rushed, groggy, but doable. Still, you always made it work. But today? Today, the universe had clearly decided you were its personal chew toy.

It all started with the alarm—well, the lack of it.

You had stayed up way too late the night before with Anna and Ororo, convincing yourselves that one more movie wouldn’t hurt. Of course, that one more movie turned into a trilogy of bad decisions, complete with spilled popcorn, empty wine bottles, and the kind of belly laughs that shake the walls. The clock had crept up on you before you even realized it. By the time you flopped down on the couch, half-drunk on both wine and exhaustion, it was already 2 AM.

Your apartment, normally a place of calm and order, had become a reflection of the chaos in your life. Empty wine glasses were still perched on the coffee table, and the floral throw blanket you loved so much was crumpled into a heap on the floor, abandoned in the aftermath of last night’s impromptu movie marathon. The dim glow of the streetlights outside slipped through the blinds, casting long shadows across the room. It was quiet now, the kind of stillness that only comes in the dead of night, but it wouldn’t last.

The universe, as it turned out, didn’t care about your late-night escapades. So when your alarm finally did go off in the morning, you slept right through it.

By the time you actually opened your eyes, the sunlight was already pouring through the window, far too bright for the morning. That was your first clue that something had gone horribly wrong.

Your heart sank. You shot up in bed, your blankets tangled around your legs, and grabbed for your phone. 8:37 AM.

Shit.

You had thirty minutes to get to work. Thirty minutes, and you weren’t even out of bed yet. Panic surged through you, hot and sharp, as you bolted from the sheets. Your bedroom was a mess, clothes from the weekend strewn across the floor, and your dresser was cluttered with half-empty cups of tea and scattered earrings. The small, framed photo of your family on your bedside table seemed to mock you with its serene smiles as you scrambled around the room in a frenzy.

Your body felt heavy with the remnants of last night’s indulgence. Rubbing your eyes, you stumbled into the bathroom, where the mirror greeted you with a reflection that was, to put it kindly, a disaster. Your hair was a tangled mess, dark circles under your eyes told the story of your late-night binge, and the wrinkle lines from your pillow were still fresh on your cheek.

You didn’t have time to care.

You grabbed your toothbrush with one hand while attempting to shimmy into your pencil skirt with the other, already regretting every decision you’d made in the past twelve hours. The bathroom, like the rest of your apartment, was a reflection of your life teetering on the edge of chaos. The soap dispenser was nearly empty, and the hand towel you’d meant to replace days ago lay crumpled in the corner.

Half-dressed and with toothpaste still foaming in your mouth, you rushed back into your bedroom, yanking open your closet doors. The closet, normally your sanctuary of neatly hung clothes and color-coded hangers, was in disarray. You pawed through the mess, desperately searching for something—anything—that didn’t look like it had spent the last month crumpled at the bottom of the laundry basket.

You managed to pull out a white blouse, but as you jammed it over your head, toothpaste dribbled down your chin and splattered onto the fabric.

Perfect.

You let out a string of curses, tearing the blouse off and throwing it across the room in frustration. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and your pulse was loud in your ears as you yanked a plain black top from the hanger. It was wrinkled, sure, but you had no other options. You slid it on, grabbed your blazer, and tried to smooth out the worst of the creases with your hands, but it was no use. Today was already a mess. You just had to survive it.

When you made it to the kitchen, the sight of last night’s chaos greeted you like a slap in the face. Empty wine bottles and bowls still littered the counters, and the remnants of the evening’s snacks were scattered across the stove. The coffee maker, which had been your saving grace on so many mornings before, sat untouched and idle. There was no time for breakfast, no time for coffee, no time for anything. The simple ceramic travel mug you normally took with you to sip on during your commute sat lonely and abandoned on the counter, a silent witness to your rush.

Your apartment, once a cozy and organized haven, now felt like a battlefield. The little details you normally loved—the potted plants by the window, the mismatched cushions on the couch, the soft glow of the fairy lights strung along the walls—were lost in the chaos of the morning. It was a reminder that you were too busy chasing after time to enjoy the small comforts you’d built around yourself.

You grabbed your phone, your keys, and your purse, and bolted out the door like a woman on a mission, the sound of your heels clicking against the hardwood floor echoing in the empty hallway. You barely noticed the chipped paint on the doorframe as you rushed past it, the little scuff marks you’d always meant to fix but never had time for.

The moment you stepped outside, the crisp October air hit you, a sharp contrast to the warm, cluttered apartment you’d just left behind. The trees lining the street were shedding their leaves, golden and red, fluttering down like confetti celebrating your disastrous morning. The sunlight was too bright, too cheerful for how you felt inside. You were already late, already spiralling into the kind of panic that made your chest tight and your thoughts race.

The subway was a lost cause by the time you made it to the station. The train doors slid shut just as you arrived, the screech of metal on metal mocking your pitiful sprint. You stood there on the platform, panting and swearing under your breath, watching the train disappear down the tunnel, taking your last hope of getting to work on time with it.

As you waited for the next train, you leaned against the tiled wall, trying to catch your breath. Your reflection in the dirty glass across the platform looked like someone who had already lost the battle with the day. Wrinkled clothes, messy hair, smeared makeup. You hadn’t even made it to the office yet, and you felt like you were falling apart at the seams.

When the train finally arrived and you squeezed yourself into the crowded car, the smell of too many bodies crushed together in too small a space made your skin crawl. You clutched your purse tighter, your knuckles white with tension, and tried to focus on something—anything—other than the fact that you were late. You practically stumbled off the train, your pulse racing as you navigated through the throng of people. The station was a blur of hurried footsteps and muffled voices. You checked the time on your phone for what felt like the hundredth time, your heart sinking as you realized just how close you were cutting it.

I can make it, I can make it.

The mantra repeated in your head like a lifeline as you pushed through the turnstiles and broke into a brisk walk. Your mind was already at the office, imagining the look on your boss's face if you were late again.

A red light stopped you at the intersection just outside your office building, and you stood there, practically vibrating with stress, watching the seconds tick by. Each one felt like a hammer pounding away at your resolve. You shifted anxiously on your feet, willing the light to turn green.

When it finally did, you dashed across the street, your breath coming in short, sharp bursts. You barely registered the people you passed as you rushed through the front doors of the office building. The cool, air-conditioned air hit you like a wall, but you didn’t have time to appreciate it.

The elevator doors were just about to close as you sprinted inside, earning a few raised eyebrows from your fellow passengers. You tried to calm your breathing, smoothing down your hair as best you could, but the mirror’s reflection didn’t lie—your hair was a mess, and you could feel the sweat on your forehead. You glanced at your phone again, watching the seconds tick down.

By the time the elevator doors dinged open on your floor, you had mere seconds to spare. You rushed out, almost colliding with a coworker, and made a beeline for the office doors. Your heart was pounding, your nerves frayed to the point of breaking, but you were here. You had made it. That had to count for something, right?

Except, of course, the universe wasn’t done with you yet.

As you pushed through the office doors, the weight of the morning’s chaos still heavy on your shoulders, you realized you were in no shape to face the day just yet. You needed a moment—a breather, a mental reset before you could even think about diving into your work. And more than anything, you needed caffeine. Cccc c cc sfdffffffffffffffffffffffffffffZFDRFRZRDcs

Without a second thought, you changed direction, detouring toward the break room. The thought of hot, fresh coffee was the only thing keeping you from falling apart at this point. The office buzzed around you—phones ringing, keyboards clacking, coworkers already deep in conversation—but you barely noticed. All you could focus on was getting to that coffee machine.

When you stepped into the break room, it was thankfully empty. The fluorescent lights were harsh against your tired eyes, but the quiet felt like a small mercy after the chaos of the morning. You exhaled slowly, allowing yourself a moment to just breathe.

The coffee machine whirred as you set it to brew, and you stood there, watching the dark liquid drip into the cup. The smell of fresh coffee filled the air, and for the first time that morning, you felt a small sense of relief. It was a tiny victory, but you’d take it.

As you waited, you leaned against the counter, your mind still racing but slowly beginning to settle. You thought about the train ride, the rush to get here, the constant pressure of being on time, of staying on top of everything. It felt like you were always teetering on the edge, like one more small inconvenience would send you spiralling.

The coffee cup finally filled to the brim, and you pulled it from the machine, taking a tentative sip. The warmth spread through you, grounding you, offering the smallest bit of comfort. But as you stood there, allowing yourself this brief moment of calm, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the day had more in store for you—that the universe wasn’t quite done testing your patience.

The door to the break room swung open, and a coworker poked their head in. “Hey, they’re looking for you,” they said, a little too chipper for your mood. “You’ve got a meeting in five.”

You blinked, your stomach sinking. Of course you did.

“Right,” you murmured, taking another sip of your coffee and trying to mentally prepare yourself for whatever awaited you. You forced a smile. “Thanks.”

As they left, you stared down into your coffee cup, the fleeting peace you had felt quickly evaporating. The clock was ticking again, and you had no choice but to jump back into the fray.

With a resigned sigh, you straightened your shoulders and made your way out of the break room, coffee in hand, trying to mentally brace yourself for the day ahead. The ride to the office had felt like an eternity, but the day? The day was already shaping up to be a whole new battlefield. You could practically feel the weight of your tasks piling up before you even reached your desk.

You took another sip of your coffee, hoping the caffeine would kick in and magically transform you into someone capable of navigating the chaos. If only it were that simple.

You rounded the corner, your mind still chewing on the details of the upcoming meeting, when it happened.

The moment your body collided with his, time seemed to stretch unnaturally, like the universe wanted to ensure you witnessed every agonizing second of what came next. You barely registered the solid, unyielding presence of the person you’d run into before your coffee cup slipped from your hand.

It tumbled through the air in the most tragic slow motion, and you could only watch in helpless horror as the dark liquid arced, suspended for a split second, before splashing down all over him.

And it wasn’t just anyone you’d run into.

It was Remy LeBeau.

The CEO of your Fortune 500 company. The man whose face graced the covers of business magazines and who was regularly featured on Time’s ‘50 Under 40 Most Influential People’ list. The man who, if the tabloids were to be believed, spent his weekends jetting off to exotic locales with supermodels and starlets.

And now, that man—the one who could fire you with a single word—was standing in front of you, covered in your coffee. His perfectly tailored suit—a suit that probably cost more than your rent—was soaked, the dark stain spreading like an inkblot across his chest and down his sleeve.

Your heart stopped for a beat, then started again, pounding so hard you could feel it in your throat. You stood there, frozen, staring up at him, wide-eyed and panic-stricken.

Remy LeBeau—the man whose influence stretched far beyond this building, who could make or break careers with a simple glance—was looking down at his ruined suit, then slowly back up at you. His dark eyes gleamed, the expression on his face unreadable for a moment.

He didn’t look angry.

No, he looked amused.

Your brain struggled to catch up with the situation. You had just spilled coffee on the Remy LeBeau. The man who could ruin you with a snap of his fingers. The CEO. The most powerful person in the building. And there he was, standing before you, smirking like this was some kind of entertaining sideshow.

“I—oh god—I’m so sorry,” you stammered, your voice trembling. Your hands fumbled for the napkin in your bag, frantically trying to wipe the coffee from his suit, even though you knew it was a lost cause. “I didn’t see you, I wasn’t paying attention, I—”

Remy raised a hand, gently catching your wrist. His touch was warm, firm, and his grip was light but commanding. The sudden contact made you freeze.

“Easy, chérie,” he said, his voice low and smooth, with that unmistakable Cajun drawl that sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes—dark, intense, and glimmering with amusement—locked onto yours. “Ain’t no need t’ panic. I’ve had worse happen on a Monday.”

You stared up at him, your heart still racing, completely at a loss for words. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t yelling. In fact, he was smiling—smiling—at you, like this was all just a minor inconvenience, not the most humiliating moment of your professional life.

Your brain scrambled, trying to make sense of the situation, but it was impossible to think straight. You’d just ruined his suit—his suit—and he was standing there, calm as ever, like this was all just some forgettable hiccup in his day.

“I—I’ll pay for the dry cleaning,” you blurted, though you knew full well you couldn’t afford it. That suit probably cost more than your entire wardrobe put together.

Remy chuckled softly, the sound rich and smooth, like velvet. “Don’t worry ‘bout it,” he said, waving off your offer with a casual flick of his hand. “I’ve got plenty of suits.”

You blinked, still trying to wrap your head around what was happening. Remy LeBeau, one of the most powerful men in the world, was standing in front of you, completely unfazed by the fact that you had just drenched him in coffee.

Before you could say anything else, the sound of footsteps approaching snapped you back to reality. You turned your head just in time to see Yelena, your coworker, striding toward you with wide eyes and a look of barely-contained disbelief. Her blonde hair was pulled into its typical messy bun, and her sharp brown eyes darted from you to Remy, then back again, clearly processing the scene in front of her.

“Oh my god,” she said, her heavy Russian accent making her words sound even more incredulous. “You spilled coffee on the CEO?” She let out a short, breathless laugh, as if the sheer absurdity of the situation was too much to process.

You groaned inwardly. Of course, Yelena had seen the whole thing.

“Yelena, please,” you muttered, your face flushing with embarrassment. If there was any mercy in the world, she’d take the hint and leave you alone. But Yelena, being Yelena, had no intention of sparing you.

“You are joking, right?” she said, her eyes wide with mock surprise. “You actually spill coffee on Remy LeBeau? The Remy LeBeau?” She glanced at him, then back at you, a grin tugging at her lips. “You are disaster, yes?”

You shot her a look that screamed please, shut up, but Yelena just laughed, shaking her head in amusement. “No, no, this is too good. I knew you were mess, but this? This is... spectacular.”

“Yelena,” you hissed through clenched teeth, your embarrassment reaching new heights. “Not. Now.”

But Yelena, being the relentless force that she was, wasn’t done. She turned her attention to Remy, giving him a cheeky smile. “You see what I deal with? Every day, she is like this. One time, she trip and fall into glass door. Another time, she forget she have meeting, show up in gym clothes. Always something.”

Your face burned hotter as you glared at Yelena, praying for the ground to swallow you whole. But instead of being annoyed, Remy’s smirk only deepened.

“Sounds like she keeps things... interestin’,” he drawled, his dark eyes flicking back to you, clearly entertained by the exchange.

“Interesting?” Yelena snorted, crossing her arms. “That is polite way to say ‘disaster waiting to happen.’”

You wanted to disappear, to melt into the floor and never resurface, but before you could even attempt to salvage the situation, Yelena gave you a wicked grin. “Well, if he shows up with new coffee later, I am calling it.”

You shot her a panicked look, but she just winked at you and sauntered off, clearly enjoying your discomfort. The room seemed to ripple with the awkward tension she left behind.

You turned back to Remy, your heart hammering in your chest, your mind still racing. He was still smiling, his eyes twinkling with amusement, like this whole thing was some kind of inside joke that only he was in on.

“I—uh—I’m so sorry, again,” you stammered, not quite sure what else to say. You were completely out of your depth. The man standing in front of you wasn’t just your CEO, he was a legend, and you had just turned yourself into a walking catastrophe in front of him.

Remy held up a hand, cutting off your nervous rambling. “Don’t worry ‘bout it,” he said, his voice still that smooth, easy drawl. “I’ve got a meetin’ in...” He checked his watch, his expression shifting slightly as he sighed. “Fifteen minutes.”

Your stomach dropped. Not only had you ruined his suit, but you had also potentially thrown off his entire schedule. “Oh god, I’m so sorry,” you repeated, this time with more desperation. “If you’re late because of me—”

Remy chuckled again, shaking his head. “Chère, it’s not the end of the world. I’ve been late to plenty of meetings. But I’ll tell you what—” His eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint as he leaned in just a fraction closer. “You owe me one now.”

You blinked, confused. “Owe you?”

He nodded, a slow, easy grin spreading across his face. “How ‘bout you make it up to me with a proper cup of coffee? A fresh one this time.”

You stared at him, still trying to process exactly what was happening. He was supposed to be furious. He was supposed to be annoyed. And yet here he was, casually suggesting that you—you—grab coffee with him after you’d just destroyed his suit.

“I—uh—are you serious?” you asked, your voice slightly shaky.

Remy raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. “I don’t joke ‘bout coffee, chérie.”

You blinked, your heart pounding in your chest. “But... you have a meeting.”

He shrugged, glancing down at his suit again. “Gotta go change first anyway. And besides,” he added with a wink, “I think I’ll have time for a quick stop on the way. You in?”

You stared at him, completely thrown off balance. The most powerful man in the company—the Remy LeBeau—was standing in front of you, casually asking you out for coffee. After you’d just spilled it all over him.

“I—uh—thanks, but I can’t,” you stammered, your heart racing. “I have a meeting I need to get to.”

Remy’s grin didn’t falter for a second. In fact, it widened, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. He tilted his head slightly, studying you for a moment before letting out a soft chuckle. “Chérie, skip it. I’ll write you a late pass or whatever,” he said with a wink, clearly joking. “Tell ‘em the boss said you’re busy.”

You blinked, completely thrown by his offer. “I-I really can’t,” you insisted, trying to sound firm, but your voice wavered. “It’s important, and—"

Remy waved a hand, cutting you off. “Cher, there ain’t nothin’ more important than a cup of coffee after a spill like that,” he drawled, his tone light and teasing. “Trust me, I know these meetin’s. They’ll survive without ya for a bit.”

You hesitated, glancing at the clock on the wall. You did have a meeting in less than fifteen minutes, one that had been on your calendar for weeks. But this was Remy LeBeau, a man who could probably get you out of any meeting with a single phone call. And he was standing there, in his coffee-stained suit, telling you to blow it off like it was no big deal.

“Besides,” he added, his grin turning slightly mischievous, “how often you get a chance to have coffee with the CEO, hein?”

Your stomach flipped at the thought. You couldn’t believe this was really happening.

“I—uh—” you started, trying to come up with a logical reason to refuse, but your brain was still short-circuiting. “I don’t know if I should—”

Remy leaned in just a little closer, his voice dropping to that low, honeyed murmur again. “Chérie, I’m the one tellin’ you it’s okay. I think you’ll survive missin’ one meetin’.”

You stared at him, completely flustered by the way the situation had escalated. He was joking, sure, but there was something about his tone, his easy confidence, that made it impossible to argue with him. And wasn’t he right? How often did anyone get a chance to have coffee with the CEO?

You bit your lip, feeling your resolve crumbling under the weight of his charm.

“Okay,” you finally breathed, your heart still pounding in your chest. “I’ll skip it.”

Remy’s grin widened, and he gave you a little nod, clearly pleased with your answer. “That’s more like it,” he said, his accent thickening just a bit as he spoke. “I’ll meet you in the lobby in five.”

And with that, he turned and sauntered away, leaving you standing there, heart racing, mind spinning, and completely unsure of what had just happened.

You stared after him, watching as he disappeared down the hallway.

Did Remy LeBeau just tell me to skip my meeting?

The CEO. The most powerful man in the company. The man who could make—or break—careers with a single glance had just told you, with a smirk and a wink, to blow off your meeting… for coffee. Not just any coffee, but coffee with him.

Your heart was still pounding in your chest, a mix of adrenaline and disbelief coursing through your veins. You stared down the hallway where he’d disappeared, his last words still replaying in your mind.

"The boss said you’re busy."

For a moment, you considered following after him and telling him you couldn’t possibly skip a meeting. That you had responsibilities. That this was insane. But then you remembered the way he’d looked at you—those dark, mischievous eyes gleaming with amusement, his tone so casual, so confident, like nothing in the world could faze him.

And really, who would argue with the CEO?

You glanced at the clock again. Your meeting was in ten minutes.

A part of you wanted to rush to it, to play it safe, to stick to the plan. But another part—the part that was still reeling from the fact that Remy LeBeau had essentially just asked you out for coffee—was telling you to go for it. To take the risk. To see where this unexpected turn of events might lead.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, snapping you out of your thoughts. You pulled it out and saw a reminder flashing on the screen: Meeting in 10 minutes: Q3 Performance Review.

You groaned softly. It wasn’t just any meeting—it was the Q3 performance review with your team. One of those meetings where people expected you to be engaged, prepared, and on point. And now, you were supposed to just skip it?

You hesitated for a moment longer, your thumb hovering over the phone screen as you considered sending a quick excuse to your boss. How could you possibly explain this? Sorry, I spilled coffee on the CEO, and now I’m getting coffee with him instead. Catch you next time!

Your stomach twisted in knots at the thought.

But then, you remembered Remy’s parting words: “I’ll meet you in the lobby in five.” The way he’d said it, as though there was no question that you’d be there. As though it was a foregone conclusion.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. This wasn’t just some random encounter. This was an opportunity—a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, honestly. What were the chances you’d ever get to spend time one-on-one with the elusive, charismatic CEO of your company? The man who everyone in the business world seemed to admire (or fear, or both)?

You couldn’t pass this up.

With a resigned sigh, you tapped out a quick email to your team:

> Subject: Apologies - Unable to Attend Q3 Performance Review

> Hi Team,

> Unfortunately, something urgent has come up, and I won’t be able to attend the Q3 Performance Review. Please proceed without me, and I’ll catch up on the notes afterward.

> Thanks,

You stared at the email for a second, feeling a knot of anxiety tighten in your chest. But then, you hit send before you could second-guess yourself.

It was done.

You quickly stuffed your phone back into your pocket and took a deep breath. Five minutes. You had five minutes to pull yourself together before meeting Remy in the lobby.

Your mind raced as you tried to make sense of what had just unfolded. Was this really happening? Were you really about to meet the CEO for coffee like it was the most normal thing in the world?

Your feet felt almost heavy as you made your way toward the elevator, every step echoing in the empty hallway. The office was humming with the usual Monday morning buzz—people on calls, the distant sound of keyboards clacking—but it all seemed so far away now, like you were walking through some surreal version of reality.

By the time you reached the lobby, your nerves were in overdrive. You glanced around, half-expecting Remy to have forgotten or changed his mind. Maybe this was all a joke? Maybe he was just being nice because you’d spilled coffee on him, and now he’d realized how ridiculous this all was.

But then, as if on cue, you spotted him.

Remy LeBeau, standing by the entrance, his phone in hand, looking more relaxed and put-together than anyone had a right to be after being doused in hot coffee. He’d changed into a fresh suit—navy this time, perfectly tailored, of course—and he looked every bit as smooth and unbothered as he had when you’d first run into him (literally).

He glanced up from his phone as you approached, a slow grin spreading across his face when he saw you.

“Right on time,” he drawled, slipping his phone into his pocket. “Thought I might’ve scared you off.”

You let out a nervous laugh, your heart still racing. “I, uh... thought about it.”

Remy chuckled, his dark eyes twinkling with amusement. “Smart girl, but I’m glad you didn’t.” He gestured toward the door, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back as he guided you outside. “Come on, chérie. There’s a café down the street that makes a mean espresso. We’ll get you some proper coffee this time.”

You felt a shiver run down your spine at the casual touch. His hand was warm, and even though it was a small, light gesture, it felt... intimate—like you were sharing some kind of secret.

As you stepped outside into the crisp morning air, you couldn’t help but glance up at him, still half-expecting this to be some sort of elaborate prank. But Remy looked perfectly at ease, his long strides confident as he led you down the street, completely unfazed by the chaos he’d left behind in the office.

“So,” he said after a moment, his voice low and smooth, “you really skipped that meetin’ for me, huh?”

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your nerves in check. “Well... you did say you’d write me a late pass.”

Remy laughed, a deep, rich sound that sent another shiver down your spine. “True. Maybe I’ll draft one up later, just for the fun of it.”

You couldn’t help but smile, despite the butterflies fluttering in your chest. “I’m not sure ‘the CEO told me to’ will go over well with my boss.”

He raised an eyebrow, his grin turning slightly mischievous. “Trust me, it will. I got more pull ‘round here than you might think.”

Your cheeks flushed at the playful tone in his voice, and for the first time since this whole thing started, you allowed yourself to relax just a little. Maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t as crazy as it seemed.

As you reached the café, Remy held the door open for you, his hand still resting lightly on your back as you stepped inside. The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, instantly calming your nerves.

Remy glanced at the menu, then back at you. “What’s your poison, chérie? Something strong to make up for earlier?”

You bit your lip, feeling a small smile tug at the corners of your mouth. “I think I’ll leave the recommendations to the expert.”

Remy’s grin widened. “Good choice. I’ll take care of it.”

As he moved to the counter to place the order, you found yourself watching him, still amazed by the ease with which he carried himself. He was Remy LeBeau, the CEO of a multi-billion-dollar company, and yet, here he was, making time for something as simple as coffee with you.

Part of you still couldn’t believe it.

Minutes later, he returned with two cups, setting one in front of you before taking a seat across from you. “Here you go,” he said, his voice warm and teasing. “Let’s see if this makes up for the earlier... incident.”

You lifted the cup to your lips, the rich aroma enveloping you as you took a sip. The coffee was smooth, strong, and absolutely perfect. You let out a soft, appreciative hum. “Okay, I’ll admit it. This is good.”

Remy leaned back in his chair, his eyes watching you intently, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. “Told ya. Always trust me when it comes to coffee, chérie.” You took another sip of your coffee, savoring the rich, smooth flavor as the warmth spread through your body. It wasn’t just the coffee, though—there was something about the entire situation that was making you feel… comfortable. Relaxed, even. Despite the earlier chaos, despite the fact that you were sitting across from Remy LeBeau, of all people, the conversation felt easy. Natural.

Remy, for his part, was leaning back in his chair, his eyes watching you with that same amused glint, like this was the most normal thing in the world for him. He had the ability to make everything seem effortless—whether it was leading a multi-billion-dollar company or sitting in a café with a woman who had just drenched him in coffee.

“So,” he said, breaking the silence with that smooth, honeyed voice of his, “what had you so flustered this mornin’?”

You blinked, caught off-guard by the question. “What do you mean?” you asked, feeling a bit self-conscious as you set your cup back down on the table.

Remy’s grin widened just a little, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Come on, chérie, I saw the look on your face when you ran into me—before the coffee incident,” he teased, leaning forward slightly. “You looked like you’d seen a ghost.”

You bit your lip, feeling a flush creep up your neck. He wasn’t wrong. You had been flustered, but it wasn’t just about spilling coffee on him. It was everything—your morning, your nerves, the overwhelming pressure of trying to do everything right in a company where it always felt like you were one misstep away from disaster.

“I was just… running late,” you said with a shrug, trying to downplay your earlier panic. “I had a meeting. I guess I was a little... distracted.”

Remy raised an eyebrow, his grin turning slightly skeptical. “That’s it? Just a meetin’?”

You hesitated, not sure whether to admit the rest of it. But something about the way he was looking at you—genuinely curious, not judgmental—made you feel like you could be honest with him. You let out a breath, feeling the tension ease from your shoulders.

“Okay, fine,” you admitted, running a hand through your hair. “It wasn’t just the meeting. I guess it’s just... everything. You know? Trying to keep up, trying not to mess up, trying to prove myself.” You glanced down at your coffee, feeling a little vulnerable. “It’s overwhelming sometimes.”

Remy nodded, his expression softening as he leaned back in his chair. “Yeah, I get that.”

You looked up at him, surprised. “You do?”

“Chérie,” he said with a wry smile, “I run this place, remember? I know all about pressure.” He took a sip of his coffee, his eyes never leaving yours. “But I’ll let you in on a little secret. Everyone’s tryin’ to prove somethin’. Even the ones who look like they got it all together.”

You blinked, processing his words. It was hard to imagine someone like Remy LeBeau—Remy LeBeau—ever feeling the need to prove anything. But there was something in his tone, something genuine, that made you believe him.

“I guess,” you said slowly, “it just feels like I’m always one step away from screwing everything up.”

Remy chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Chère, if spillin’ coffee on me is the worst thing you do today, you’re doin’ just fine.” His smile was warm, reassuring, and for the first time all day, you felt the weight on your shoulders begin to lift.

“Thanks,” you said quietly, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the coffee.

“I gotta say though,” he began, his voice smooth as silk, “this mornin’ ain’t even close to the worst Monday I ever had.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh yeah? What could possibly top getting coffee spilled all over you before a big meeting?”

Remy chuckled, the sound low and rich, as if he were enjoying some private joke. He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. “Well, let’s just say, a little coffee ain’t nothin’ compared to the time an intern nearly lost the company $31 million in one day.”

Your eyes widened in disbelief. “What? How does that even happen?”

Remy grinned, clearly enjoying the look of shock on your face. “Ah, it was a wild day, chérie. Poor kid was new, only been with us for a couple weeks. He was supposed to be shadowin’ one of our senior traders, right? But somehow, he got access to the trading platform and thought he’d try his hand at makin’ some moves.”

You winced, already picturing the disaster. “Oh no...”

“Oh yes,” Remy said, leaning back again, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “He thought he was gonna be the next big thing, you know? A real wunderkind. But instead of makin’ us money, he nearly tanked one of our portfolios.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, even as you felt a pang of sympathy for the poor intern. “How did you not fire him on the spot?”

Remy shrugged, his expression softening a bit. “Well, I figured he’d already learned his lesson. No need to ruin the kid’s career before it even started. We caught the mistake in time, fixed the trades, and no real harm done. Besides...” He gave you a knowing look. “Everyone makes mistakes. It’s how you handle ‘em that matters.”

You smiled, marveling at how easily he could shrug off something that would have given most people a heart attack. “I guess that puts my little coffee incident into perspective.”

Remy’s grin widened, and he winked at you. “Exactly. Ain’t no need to be so hard on yourself.”

You took another sip of your coffee, feeling a little more at ease, though you couldn’t help but shake your head in disbelief. “I can’t imagine being that calm about almost losing that much money.”

Remy laughed again, the sound warm and easy. “Oh, don’t get me wrong, chérie. I wasn’t calm. Not at first, anyway. I had to step outside, take a few deep breaths, maybe yell into the sky a little. But once I was done with that, I went back in, fixed the problem, and we moved on.”

You looked at him, more impressed than ever. “I couldn’t keep my cool like that.”

He shrugged, though there was a glint of pride in his eyes. “Part of the job. Can’t let every little thing knock you off your game. You gotta be able to roll with the punches, you know?”

You nodded, feeling like you were getting a rare glimpse into the real Remy LeBeau, the one who didn’t just glide through life with that effortless charm but actually worked hard to keep everything running smoothly behind the scenes. It was... inspiring, in a way.

“So,” you said, leaning forward a little, “what happened to the intern? Did he survive?”

Remy chuckled again, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. “Oh yeah, he survived. He’s actually one of our top traders now. Turns out he had a knack for it, once we got him a little more trainin’ and a lot less access to the company’s entire portfolio.”

You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. “That’s insane.”

“Yep,” he agreed, his grin wide. “But that’s just how it goes sometimes. You make a mistake, you learn from it, and then you come back stronger.”

You couldn’t help but feel a little lighter after hearing that story. It was a reminder that even in a high-pressure environment like this, mistakes happened—and they weren’t always the end of the world.

“You’ve got a good attitude about it,” you said, smiling at him. “I think I’d be a nervous wreck if I were in your shoes.”

Remy’s gaze softened, and he gave you a small, almost serious smile. “You’d be surprised, chérie. You’re doin’ a lot better than ya give yourself credit for.”

For a moment, his words hung in the air between you, and you felt a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the coffee. There was something in the way he said it—like he genuinely believed it—that made you think maybe he was right.

“Thanks,” you said quietly, feeling a little shy under his steady gaze.

Remy’s smile returned to its usual playful curve, and he gave you a wink. “Anytime, chérie. Now, what do you say we get outta here before I start spillin’ my own coffee?”

You laughed, shaking your head as you stood up. “Deal.”

As you and Remy stepped out of the café, the brisk morning air greeted you, making the warmth of the coffee still lingering in your hands all the more pleasant. The office wasn’t far, but you couldn’t help wishing the walk would stretch out just a little longer. Something about being with him—Remy LeBeau, the CEO—felt surprisingly... normal. Comfortable, even. It felt like you were walking beside an old friend instead of one of the most powerful people in the building.

You glanced sideways at him, watching as he slipped his hands into his pockets and strolled along like he didn’t have a care in the world. It was hard to reconcile this version of him—the laid-back, effortlessly charming man beside you—with the high-powered executive you’d seen commanding boardrooms. The contrast made you smile to yourself, and before you knew it, you were speaking up.

“You know,” you began, your tone light, “I’ve just kinda realised something.”

Remy’s lips quirked into that familiar, lazy grin as he glanced over at you. “Oh yeah? And what might that be, chérie?”

“That you are, without a doubt, the least terrifying person I’ve ever spoken to in this building.”

His grin widened, and a deep, rumbling laugh rolled from his chest. “Well now, that’s a surprise. Most people tend to get a little nervous ‘round me. You know, the whole ‘CEO’ thing.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Trust me, you don’t even come close. There are way scarier people around here. Like Melinda in accounting. She is terrifying.”

Remy threw his head back and laughed, the sound full and genuine. “Ah, Melinda. Yeah, she’s somethin’ else.” He shook his head, still chuckling. “You know, even I feel a little intimidated walkin’ into her office. That woman could make a grown man confess to crimes he didn’t commit if she wanted to.”

You laughed harder than you probably should have, nodding in agreement. “Exactly! Last week, I had to ask her a question about payroll, and I swear she looked at me like I was interrupting a top-secret government operation.”

Remy grinned, his eyes lighting up with amusement. “Yeah, Melinda don’t mess around. But that’s why I keep her around. She’s the reason we stay outta trouble with the IRS.”

You shook your head, still grinning. “I guess I’ll take Melinda over an audit any day.”

“Smart girl,” he said with a wink, his voice full of warmth.

You couldn’t help but feel a little flutter in your chest at that. The way he looked at you—like you were someone worth paying attention to—it was surprising. You’d been so caught up in the idea of him being this larger-than-life figure, but here he was, laughing with you about office politics like it was the most natural thing in the world.

As you neared the office, the sleek glass building looming ahead, you realized you didn’t want this moment to end. The walk had been easy, comfortable. It was a side of Remy you’d never expected to see, and you weren’t ready to step back into the world of emails, deadlines, and intimidating supervisors just yet.

“So,” Remy said, breaking into your thoughts with that smooth, honeyed drawl, “if I’m not the most intimidatin’ person ‘round here, who holds that title?”

You pretended to think it over, biting your lip to hide your smile. “Hmm... I’d say it’s a tie between Melinda and Bucky, the security guy downstairs.”

Remy smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Bucky? Really?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you said, nodding seriously. “Every time I walk past him, he looks at me like I’ve personally offended him just by showing up for work. Like, sorry for existing, Bucky.”

Remy’s laugh was deep and genuine, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Yeah, Bucky’s got that ‘I’d-rather-be-anywhere-else’ face down to a science. I think it’s his default expression.”

“He could at least mix it up with a smile once in a while,” you joked, shaking your head. “It’s terrifying.��

Remy chuckled again, glancing at you with that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. “Maybe I’ll get him a ‘best customer service’ award or somethin’. See if that lightens him up.”

You laughed, the sound coming out more freely than you expected. There was something about him—about the way he could turn even the most mundane things into something amusing—that made you feel at ease. It was like the usual weight of the office, of trying to keep up and not screw up, just... lifted. And you weren’t sure if it was the coffee or if it was just him, but you found yourself enjoying this moment more than you ever thought you would.

As the office building came into full view, you felt a pang of disappointment. The walk was almost over. The moment was almost over. And you weren’t quite ready for it to be. You glanced at him again, wondering how someone like him—someone with so much power and influence—could make you feel so... steady.

Just as you reached the entrance, Remy slowed his pace, turning slightly toward you. There was a softness in his eyes now, something more serious, and it caught you a little off guard.

“You know,” he began, his voice quieter, “I wasn’t just messin’ with you earlier.”

You blinked, looking up at him. “About what?”

“‘Bout everyone tryin’ to prove somethin’.” He held your gaze, his tone sincere. “Even the folks who look like they got it all together—like Melinda, like Bucky—they all got somethin’ they’re dealin’ with. And you? You’re doin’ better than you think, chérie. Don’t let the pressure get to you.”

His words hit you in a way you weren’t expecting, and for a moment, you just stood there, processing what he’d said. It wasn’t often that anyone—let alone someone like Remy LeBeau—offered you reassurance like that. And it wasn’t just the words; it was the way he said it, with that quiet confidence that made you believe him.

“I... thank you,” you said softly, feeling a warmth spread through your chest, something akin to relief. “That means a lot.”

His lips curved into a slow, easy smile, the warmth returning to his eyes. “Anytime.”

With that, he stepped forward and held the door open for you, his hand once again resting lightly on the small of your back as you walked through. The touch, as before, felt intimate without being overbearing, like a quiet promise that he was there, that he had your back.

As you stepped into the lobby, the familiar hum of the office surrounded you, but it felt different now. Lighter. Like the usual weight of the day wasn’t pressing down quite as hard. You glanced back at Remy, who gave you one last grin as the elevator doors slid open.

“Well,” he drawled, his voice playful again, “guess I’ll see you ‘round, chérie. Try not to cause too much trouble, yeah?”

You smirked, stepping into the elevator. “No promises.”

He let out a soft chuckle, his eyes twinkling as the doors began to close. “I wouldn’t expect anythin’ less.”

And just like that, the elevator doors shut, leaving you alone with your thoughts—and with a small, secret smile tugging at your lips.

As the elevator began its ascent, you leaned back against the wall, the warmth of the encounter still lingering in your chest. Maybe this morning hadn’t gone as planned. Maybe you’d made a mess of things with the coffee incident. But somehow, in the span of a short walk and a couple of jokes, Remy LeBeau had managed to turn your day around.

And as the elevator dinged to a stop, you couldn’t help but think that maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t the last time you’d find yourself sharing a moment like this with him. <><><><> The next morning was a blur of routine. You sat at your desk, the hum of the office providing a steady background as you tried to focus on the never-ending stream of emails and reports. But your thoughts kept drifting back to the day before—walking with Remy LeBeau, laughing, teasing, feeling completely at ease with someone who should have been intimidating beyond belief.

Today, however, the magic of that morning seemed distant, and the reality of your workload was crashing back in. You were staring at your screen, half-reading the same email for the third time, when a familiar voice cut through your concentration.

“Ah, pen thief,” Yelena’s voice interrupted, her thick Russian accent layered with playful accusation.

You glanced up to see her leaning against the divider of your cubicle, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at her lips. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, and she had that mischievous glint in her eye—the one she always wore when she was about to start trouble.

“Pen thief? You’re the one who lost the last one!” you shot back, giving her a pointed glare. “That was my favorite pen, by the way. No other pen here hits that nice paper glide feeling ya know?”

Yelena rolled her eyes dramatically. “Pfft. You act like I lost Hope Diamond. It was just pen.”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Yeah, just a pen that I’m pretty sure you borrowed and then abandoned somewhere.”

Yelena pushed herself off the divider and slid into the empty chair beside your desk, making herself comfortable. “You know, you always so dramatic about these things. It probably rolled under desk somewhere.”

“Convenient excuse,” you said, crossing your arms. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you lost it. So you should be the one going to the supply closet to get more.”

Yelena sighed theatrically, leaning back in her chair with the air of someone deeply put-upon. “It always me? Always poor Yelena, doing hard work. I should get medal.”

You snorted. “A medal for losing things, maybe.”

Yelena leaned forward with a mock-serious expression. “Excuse me, I not lose things. They... disappear mysteriously.”

“Right,” you said, rolling your eyes. “And I suppose the stapler I lent you last week just vanished into thin air, too?”

Yelena waved a hand dismissively. “Staplers do not count. Everyone knows staplers have legs. They walk away on own.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Sure, Yelena. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

She grinned, clearly pleased with herself. “So, are you going to get pens, or do I have to drag you there?”

“No way,” you protested, turning back to your screen. “I went last time. It’s your turn.”

Yelena made a sound somewhere between a groan and a growl. “Ugh. Fine. You owe me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, amused. “I’ll make it up to you by not letting you lose my next pen.”

Yelena opened her mouth for what was undoubtedly going to be another snarky retort, but the phone on your desk rang, cutting her off. You glanced at the number on the display and felt your heart stop for a second. It was a direct line—Remy’s office.

Yelena noticed the change in your expression and raised an eyebrow. “Who is that?”

You swallowed, your stomach twisting with sudden nerves. “It’s...Big boss man’s office.”

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Oho, someone in trouble, huh?”

You shot her a look, but your nerves were too jittery to come up with a witty comeback. Instead, you picked up the receiver, hoping your voice didn’t betray your sudden anxiety.

“Hello?”

“Good morning,” came the calm, professional voice on the other end. It was Wanda, Remy’s assistant. You had never spoken to her directly, but her reputation preceded her. She was known for running Remy’s schedule like a tight ship, keeping his world perfectly organized. “Mr. LeBeau would like to see you in his office. ASAP.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Oh—uh, okay. I’ll be right there.”

The line went dead with a soft click, and you slowly lowered the receiver, your stomach doing anxious flips.

Yelena, who had been listening intently, leaned forward in her chair, eyes wide with curiosity. “What was that? Why does he want to see you?”

“I—I don’t know,” you stammered, feeling a rush of nerves. “Wanda just said he wants to see me in his office.”

Yelena’s grin spread slowly, like a cat who’d just cornered a mouse. “Oh, this good. What did you do? He probably fire you. Or fuck you.”

You groaned, shaking your head. “It’s probably nothing. I’ll tell you later.”

Yelena gave you a skeptical look, clearly not buying it. “Sure. But you better have good story for me when you come back,” she said with a wink.

You stood up, smoothing your blouse and trying to calm your racing heart. “I’ll be back soon.”

Yelena leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms behind her head. “Good luck, pen thief! Try not get fired!”

Before you could ask why, the line clicked off, leaving you staring at the phone in a mix of anxiety and confusion. What could he possibly want? Yesterday’s coffee incident had ended on a light note—you thought everything was fine. But now, the CEO was summoning you to his office, and your mind was racing with possibilities.

You stood up, smoothing your clothes, trying to quell the rising tide of nerves. The walk to his office seemed longer than usual, each step punctuated by the thud of your heartbeat in your ears. You mentally ran over everything you’d done in the past 24 hours, trying to figure out if there was something—anything—you might’ve missed or messed up. Was he upset? Had you made a mistake somewhere? Surely, you couldn't be in trouble over coffee?

By the time you reached the executive floor, your pulse was thrumming in your neck. Wanda waved you through without much fanfare, her usual calm demeanor doing nothing to settle your nerves.

You knocked lightly on Remy’s office door, and his voice called out from the other side. “Come in.”

You stepped inside, and there he was—Remy LeBeau, seated behind a massive mahogany desk, looking as composed and confident as ever. His suit today was charcoal gray, sharp and perfectly tailored, and his dark eyes gleamed with their usual amusement when he saw you.

“Morning, chérie,” he said, leaning back in his chair, his voice warm and relaxed. “You look a bit more put together today. No coffee spills, I see.”

You let out a nervous laugh, trying to shake off the anxiety that had followed you all the way up here. “Yeah, no disasters this morning. I’m trying to keep things under control.”

He chuckled softly, gesturing for you to take a seat in one of the plush chairs across from his desk. As you sat down, you noticed the way his eyes flicked over you, not in a judgmental way, but as if he was assessing something deeper. It made your stomach twist again, and your knee started to bounce under the desk before you could stop it.

“How’s Yelena?” he asked casually, his voice light. “She still givin’ you a hard time about yesterday?”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the sudden shift to small talk. “Oh, Yelena?” You smiled, relaxing just a little. “She’s... well, she’s Yelena. She hasn’t let me live it down yet, but that’s just how she is.”

Remy nodded, his smile deepening. “Figured as much. She’s got a sharp tongue, that one.”

You nodded, but despite the easy conversation, the tension in your chest didn’t ease. Your knee was still bouncing nervously, and Remy’s sharp eyes didn’t miss it. He leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the armrest as he let out a slow breath.

“Relax, chérie,” he said, his tone gentle but commanding. “Ain’t no need to be nervous. I called you in here for somethin’, but it’s nothin’ bad. In fact, I’d say it’s quite the opposite.”

You swallowed, trying to steady your nerves, but the way he was watching you only made your heart race faster. He leaned forward slightly, his dark eyes locking onto yours with that same quiet intensity you’d seen yesterday.

“I’ve been lookin’ at your employee file,” he said, his voice smooth and even. “All your work, your performance reviews, your history with the company.”

Your stomach dropped, anxiety flaring up again. “Oh?”

Remy smiled, but it wasn’t the playful grin you were used to. It was something deeper, more serious. “You’re good, chérie. Real good. But there’s more to it than just your work.”

Your eyes widened, confusion swirling in your mind. “More to it?”

He tapped his finger on the arm of his chair, his gaze never leaving yours. “Yesterday… I enjoyed our conversation over coffee. A lot more than I expected. You’re easy to talk to. Comfortable.”

You blinked, trying to process where this was going. “I, uh… I enjoyed talking to you, too.”

Remy’s smile widened ever so slightly, but his expression remained thoughtful, his fingers still tapping as if he were weighing his next words carefully. “That’s why I called you in here. I’ve got a proposition for you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “A… proposition?”

He nodded, leaning forward slightly, his voice dropping to that smooth, low tone that always seemed to make your pulse quicken. “I’m lookin’ for someone like you, someone I can trust, to accompany me on business trips. Personal trips. Events. Whatever comes up. Someone who’s easy to talk to, someone I can rely on to keep things… comfortable.”

You stared at him, your mind spinning. “You want me to… travel with you?”

He nodded again, his eyes gleaming with something unreadable. “In exchange, you’ll get full access to my black card. Anything you need, any expenses you have. Whatever you want.”

The words hung in the air between you, the weight of them pressing down on your chest. You swallowed hard, your mind racing as you tried to make sense of what he was offering.

“Wait,” you said slowly, raising an eyebrow. “Like… a sugar baby?”

Remy shrugged one shoulder, his smirk returning, though there was a flicker of something more serious in his eyes. “That ain’t the word I’d use, chérie,” he said smoothly. “But yes, somethin’ like that.”

You blinked, your mind struggling to catch up with the situation. This wasn’t what you had expected—at all. Was this some kind of joke? Some kind of test? But the way Remy was looking at you, calm and confident, told you that he was completely serious.

“You want me to… accompany you. To events. And in return, I get access to… everything?” you repeated, still trying to wrap your head around the offer.

Remy nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. “That’s right. No strings attached, just you and me. I’ll take care of you, chérie. Anything you need, you just ask.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest, your mind spinning with a thousand questions. What did this mean? What would people think? How could you possibly say yes to something like this?

And yet… the way he was looking at you, the way his voice wrapped around you like silk, made it hard to think clearly. There was something intoxicating about the offer—something that pulled at you, even though you knew it was dangerous.

You met his gaze, feeling the weight of the decision pressing down on you. “And if I say no?”

Remy’s grin softened, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Then nothin’ changes. You go back to your desk, back to your work, and we forget this conversation ever happened.” He leaned back in his chair, his fingers still tapping lightly on the armrest. “But if you say yes… well, I think you’ll find it’s a pretty sweet deal.”

You sat there, staring at him, your heart racing as you tried to figure out what to do. This wasn’t just about the black card, or the trips, or the perks. This was about stepping into a world you had never imagined for yourself—a world where you were at the center of Remy LeBeau’s attention.

And that, more than anything, was what made your pulse quicken.

“What do you say, chérie?” Remy asked softly, his voice pulling you back to the present. “You in?” You sat there, staring at Remy, your mind spinning as you tried to process everything he’d just said. The offer hung in the air between you, heavy with implications. The room felt too quiet, too still, as if the world had paused, waiting for your response.

Your thoughts began to race, weighing the pros and cons as quickly as you could. On the one hand, this was Remy LeBeau, the CEO of the entire company, offering you a chance to step into his inner circle. It was exclusive and alluring, a position of privilege that few people ever even dreamed of. The access to his black card alone was mind-blowing—anything you need, any expenses, anything you want. Those words echoed in your head, almost dizzying in their possibilities.

No more worrying about rent or bills. No more stressing about whether you could afford that new outfit for a work event or that last-minute flight to visit family. You could have comfort, luxury, and security, and Remy was offering it all to you on a silver platter.

And the trips—business, personal, events. You would be riding in first-class, staying in five-star hotels, attending high-profile events with him. You’d be side by side with one of the most powerful, influential men in the business world. The opportunities for networking alone were staggering. Not to mention the experience, the places you’d see, the people you’d meet.

But then… there were the cons.

Was this really what you wanted? What would people think? You were no stranger to office gossip, and the moment anyone saw you traveling with him, attending events with him, the rumors would start. They’d whisper about you behind closed doors, about what you must have done to earn that position. About what kind of relationship you had with the CEO.

And then there was the question of you—what would this mean for you as a person? Could you handle being seen this way? Could you live with yourself if you accepted? There was something about the offer that felt exhilarating, yes, but also dangerous, like stepping onto a ledge without knowing how far the fall would be.

You glanced up at Remy, who was watching you closely, his expression calm but attentive. He wasn’t pressuring you, but you could feel the weight of his gaze. He was waiting, and while he was patient, you could sense he preferred not to be kept waiting for too long.

After a long moment of silence, he leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming lightly on the armrest. “I don’t need an answer right now, chérie,” he said, his voice smooth, understanding. “Take your time. Think it over. But…” His eyes darkened slightly, that playful glint returning as he gave you a small, knowing smile. “I’d much rather have an answer sooner than later.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the tension ease ever so slightly at his words. He wasn’t pushing you, but there was an edge of urgency, a quiet expectation beneath the surface. He wasn’t a man used to waiting—he was used to getting what he wanted.

“I—” you started, then paused, trying to gather your thoughts. “I’ll need to think about it.”

Remy nodded, his eyes softening. “Of course. I wouldn’t expect anything less.” He leaned forward slightly, his gaze locking onto yours with that same quiet intensity. “But just so we’re clear, chérie, this is a good offer. A damn good offer. And I don’t make it lightly.”

You bit your lip, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest at his words. Of course, it was a good offer. It was the offer. One that could change everything for you.

“I understand,” you said quietly, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. “I’ll think about it, and I’ll… let you know soon.”

Remy’s smile widened, a hint of satisfaction flickering in his dark eyes. “That’s all I ask.” He stood up from his chair, signaling that the conversation was drawing to a close. “Take your time, chérie, but like I said… I’d rather know sooner than later.”

You rose from your chair as well, your legs feeling a little shaky as you stood. “I will,” you promised, your voice a little firmer now. “Thank you.”

Remy gave you a slow nod, his eyes never leaving yours. “You’re welcome. And just remember—whatever you decide, we’ll keep this between us. No one else needs to know.”

You felt a small wave of relief wash over you at that. At least you wouldn’t have to worry about anyone finding out before you’d even made a decision.

With a final nod, you turned and made your way toward the door, your heart still pounding in your chest. As you reached for the handle, you heard Remy’s voice behind you, low and smooth.

“Take care, chérie.”

You glanced back at him, his dark eyes still watching you with that same unreadable intensity. “You too,” you managed, before stepping out of the office and closing the door behind you.

As you walked back to your desk, your mind was spinning with everything that had just happened. The offer. The implications. The opportunity. You couldn’t stop thinking about it—how it could change everything for you, how it could open doors you’d never even dreamed of.

But at the same time, that little voice in the back of your head kept whispering, reminding you of the risks. Of what people would say. Of how this might change how you saw yourself.

You sat down at your desk, staring blankly at your computer screen, your hands shaking slightly as you tried to process it all. You had a decision to make—a big one. And no matter which way you looked at it, nothing would be the same after this.

Was this really what you wanted?

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. You didn’t have to decide right now. But soon.

And you knew that whatever choice you made, it would change everything.

37 notes · View notes

maryangelex · 1 year ago

Text

Never Let Me Go (Pt. 5)

John Price x f!Reader

(Part 6)

Summary: After weeks away, Price comes back from deployment to a warm welcome.

warnings: nsfw!!, cumshots, praising, pulling out, p in v sex, fingering, some overstimulating

a/n: this is very much not as proofread as I’d like it to be but that’s what a 1 am burst of horniness creativity does

songs for this chapter are Kerosene by Yves Tumor but also Burning Desire by Lana!!!

Three weeks passed since then. John had let you know he'd be back home sometime soon if everything went as planned. During these last four weeks, you and he had remained in consistent contact, growing more and more comfortable with each other.

At first, you had been hesitant to send him more pictures of yourself donning the few other pieces of lingerie you owned, but John made sure you knew just how much he enjoyed you taking his mind off his current situation.

He didn't pressure you, he never would be capable of doing so, but he did encourage you by sending you messages that let you know when he was in need of you, when he couldn't get you out of his mind, when he was desperate for you to ease his mind off work.

You, being your gratuitous self, never denied him that pleasure; you got to the point that you were beyond comfortable with letting John see your body, nearly every bit of it that wasn't clothed by the sheer lace fabric of your garments. Eventually, it was even he who wired you money for you to 'get yourself something pretty' for him, as he said.

And you did just that by buying yourself sets you thought he'd enjoy seeing; teddies, rompers, garter belts, babydolls, everything you thought John would appreciate his money going to. You felt like his sugar baby, but you absolutely didn't mind, in a way you were flattered.

You'd make sure to model every single new piece and John made sure to praise you and commend you for picking out something so perfect for him.

And throughout all this time of waiting and being restricted to receiving John's affection through your phone screen, you couldn't help but count the days, the hours until he'd come back home.

But you also couldn't help but wonder what this, between you and John, could be labeled as, what he considered this thing between the two of you to be? Surely it had escalated beyond a friendship, that line had been crossed a long time ago past the point of no return. John seemed like a serious man, and you knew he was much older than you to be doing situationships or anything of the sort.

You guessed you'd enjoy it for the time being, whatever this was, even though deep within you the long talks on the phone, the attention, his praises and affection, the way he showed you how much he wanted you, all of that was getting to you.

You were in the cafe this Saturday morning, and it was a busy shift for once; plenty of people decided that breakfast at your and your cousin's cozy little cafe would be ideal, for finding a cozy, warm place to hide away from the weather that got colder and gloomier each day.

Your cousin had made her best efforts to not pry into your little fling with John but she could only do so much. You had kept some mystery to it, but of course, it was difficult to contain the exhilaration of your escapades with the stunning man you had eating out of the palm of your hand. Still, you didn't want to give too much away. As far as she knew, you two were just texting and calling while he was away every now and then.

The two of you were hard at work today, though, not much talk was being had except for the few jokes you two exchanged every now and then to take the weight of work off your shoulders, to alleviate the few entitled customers that walked in throughout the day.

One of them really got under your skin, though. A middle-aged woman with a sour face had walked in to order a latte, and even though you had done your job and fulfilled her order, she still had something to say. She decided that she no longer wanted oat milk and instead wanted soy milk, demanding that you remake her drink, then deciding it was still not fit for her to pay you, and of course, deciding to insult you before being on her way.

You were enraged at that, and that was your cousin's cue to tell you to take a break and go do some grocery shopping at the shops next door. With an exasperated sigh, you grabbed your purse and coat and stomped out of the cafe, repeating a mantra in your head to keep cool and not let some bitter bitch ruin your day.

You checked your phone briefly as you walked down the street, hoping to see a text from John, something that would cheer you up. But to your misfortune, there was nothing today yet. You thought about how much better your day would be if you had him around, even if it was just through a short text. Another heavy sigh left you, this one more mournful than irritated.

You walked into the small family-owned grocery shop that was a few blocks from your cafe, your mind already starting to ease away from the negativity of that interaction as you wandered around. You and your cousin frequented this place to buy ingredients for the cafe, and for your personal shopping as well.

As you walked around collecting the items on your mental list, you felt your phone vibrate twice in your pocket. When you reached in to look at your screen you saw your beacon of hope; John had texted you.

The first one was his usual morning greeting, followed by a second one that made your heart jump.

"Coming back home on Sunday. Dinner?"

You held back a squeal when you bit your smiling lip, biting the glove off your hand to be able to respond to him as quickly as you could.

"My place at 8, don't be late", you replied, adding a few emojis to decorate your invitation to John.

You thought about just how easily the man could single-handedly turn your shitty day around. Your shopping list just became longer as you sought out the proper ingredients for John's homecoming dinner.

When Sunday rolled around you were off work, so you dedicated the entire day just to prep for your dinner. You had a whole menu prepared in your mind, even went to buy wine that didn't cost only £10. And something had possessed you to be John's perfect housewife and slave away at making him a Sunday roast.

It was nearly 6 by now, and while you let the meat roast in the oven you hurried to get yourself ready. You showered with diligence, scrubbing the smell of cooking off your skin and hair. All you could feel was a mix of nerves and excitement to see him again. The thought of John's hands on you again, in the comfort of your own home where the two of you couldn't possibly have any disruptions, made your heart skip a beat.

You shook the thought away as you threw on the dress you had picked out, one that hung on your body in every perfect way possible. When you got back to cooking it was nearly 7:30, so you checked your phone for any sign of John being on his way, or worse, for any sign of him not being able to make it.

But you were pleasantly surprised when you saw a message from him letting you know he was in a cab on his way to you. Another moment of your heart fluttering. Now you were counting down the seconds till 8, not knowing what to do with yourself as you waited for the roast to reach its perfect temperature. Your mind was racing; you wanted everything to be perfect for John, you wanted to be perfect for John.

Twenty minutes passed of you pacing around your flat, fluffing cushions that didn't need fluffing, biting your fingernails, dusting surfaces that didn't need dusting, and moving items centimeters in the same spot.

You were snapped out of your fit of perfectionism by the sound of three knocks at your door, the sound of knuckles striking the old wood made you jump. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding before striding to open the door, and when you did so he was standing there like an apparition.

That kind smile you hadn't seen in a month was flashing at you, tugging at bearded cheeks and crinkling the sides of deep blue eyes. You gawked at John like it was the first time you had seen him, the realization that he was real and at your doorstep dawned on you and you couldn't help the stupid smile that cut across your own face.

"John," was all you could muster, and the chuckle that rumbled from his chest as he stepped closer to you made you realize that he was real, that he was really back, that he was just inches from you.

John's hands cupped the sides of your face as he planted a kiss on the apple of your cheek. You held your hands over his own, feeling the man's rough skin in comparison to your supple, delicate fingertips that had never known labor like his.

"Miss me, dove?" he asked, voice husky. Of course, you did, you thought, swooning at the sound of his voice, your eyes locking with his. How you missed those ocean eyes of his. You nodded in his grasp, your hands migrating to his shoulders as you stepped forward to place a soft kiss on his lips. Your pecks were gentle, shy even, as if the distance and time apart had you both starting back at square one.

"I missed you too, sweetheart," he said against your lips, to which you giggled and gave him a chaste kiss before pulling back to lead him inside.

"I hope you're hungry," you smiled.

John let out a sigh, "Starving," he confessed. He entered your flat and you noticed he was still lugging his backpack with him. Your face dropped; did he come straight to you?

John had a gift for reading your thoughts through just your expression, "Didn't wanna waste any time getting to you, dove," he said, gesturing to the backpack in his hand before setting it aside at your entryway.

Fuck, his dedication to you never ceased to amaze you. The fact that he had gone out of his way to get to you the second he got off the plane ride home had you feeling some sort of way like you were the most important person in the world, a feeling John never failed to elicit in you.

"You didn't have to, John, I could've waited for you," you gave him an apologetic smile.

"I couldn't," he quipped, flirty bastard as always. You rolled your eyes, pretending like his courting didn't affect you.

You took hold of his hand, bringing him along with you with a light "c'mere," as a command to follow you to the kitchen. John let you guide him, and when he caught a whiff of the cozy smell in the kitchen he practically melted. His expression was a mix of impressed yet embarrassed at the realization that you made all of this for him; you could see the blush painting his cheeks.

You urged him to sit at the table where you had set everything out for him, grabbing his plate to serve him the Sunday roast you had put your heart into making for him. He insisted on opening the wine bottle for you, it was the least he could do.

"Fuckin' hell, love, I should've at least brought you flowers," he cursed, a scowl pulling at his lips in dissatisfaction with himself.

"Well I'll give you a second chance for you to do so," you chuckled lightheartedly, already planning on this being a Sunday habit for the two of you. He liked your remark, evident by the approving hum he let out.

You sat next to him at the table and the two of you shared the meal. It felt like this wasn't the first time, more so it felt like this was customary for you two; for you to welcome him with a home-cooked meal and a pristine house like you were his wife waiting for him to come back home. You basked in the feeling of it, completely ignoring the doubt that had lingered in the back of your mind.

John was none the wiser, he was enjoying himself thoroughly. You think he felt the same way; he looked content and delighted by the food and company, his hand never leaving yours throughout dinner, making sure he was holding you or touching you in any way as if to not let you go again, to not drift off you like a log in a river's current.

There was a glow to him now that he was with you, it was almost angelic. And the way that he looked at you made you feel enveloped with endearment.

When you were finished, and John looked like he was about to enter a food coma from how much he'd indulged in your delicious food, you felt more than satisfied with yourself as you rose from your seat to collect the plates. Immediately, John got up from his seat to help you; you knew he was unable to be a bystander when it came to you doing absolutely anything, the man couldn't live with himself if he did.

He helped you carry nearly everything to the sink and insisted he did the dishes for you. The domesticity of it all made you feel warm inside. When you came back to the table to wipe it clean and put anything remaining away, you felt John's presence behind you, the heat of his body radiating against your back as he inched closer.

You felt his large hands on your hips, stilling yourself as you revel in his touch. His hands scaled up your body, massaging the tender flesh of your hips and waist, feeling the plumpness and curves of your frame like you were clay on a potter's wheel. He hummed to himself and you felt the wetness pooling between your thighs. One of John's hands migrated up to your hair, gently adjusting it over your shoulder to expose your back in the strappy dress you wore. Your body was filled with goosebumps when the hairs of his mustache tickled your bare skin, peppering warm kisses on your shoulder blades.

"Can't believe you made all of this f'me, sweetheart," his voice vibrated against your skin as he spoke between kisses. The hand remaining on your waist was sprawled on your lower tummy, pressing your ass flush against him. You could feel the hard mass of muscle behind you, the bulge of his crotch poking against you.

"My sweet girl, so carin'...so stunnin' in this dress," his hand on your belly pet the silky fabric, while the other caressed up your arm, up to your shoulder, your collarbone, and finally stroking down your sternum between your breasts. His mouth occupied itself with the exposed skin of your neck now, his velvety lips gently pressing against it.

The sound of him calling you his ringed in your ears, and you couldn't hold back the whine that brewed in your throat.

"I wouldn't mind comin' home to this every day f'the rest of my life," he professed, and now you really were a wreck between your legs, all for this man's simple words. You wiggled your hips against his crotch, feeling the hardness that was confined in his jeans. That was signal enough for him; a sign that you were just as needy for him as he was for you.

"Remember everythin' I said I'd do to you over the phone, love?"

You nodded as your head lolled to the side, John's lips scaling up your neck and up to your jaw. His hands were now firmly holding your breasts, fondling the soft mounds of flesh.

"Been thinkin' 'bout it all this time... thinkin' 'bout how good 'm gonna fuck you tonight, dove."

Maybe it was all the wine you two consumed throughout your dinner, maybe it was the dizzying effect John's presence had on you, but without even realizing it you wound up in your room with him tearing your dress off between panting breaths and sloppy kisses. His hands desperately and messily scoured your now bare body, making sure to not leave an inch without being touched.

Your hands got to work as well, clumsily working at the buttons of his shirt; he chuckled lightly at your nervousness and gently assisted you until you finally tore off the pesky shirt. Your tipsy mind took a moment to admire the man before you; burly physique with a comforting layer of fat adorning the taut muscles his career had provided him. Your hands caressed his hairy chest, thick and lush, and trailed down to his abdomen following the treasure trail of hair that trailed down his waistband.

John's rumbling chuckle interrupted your gawking before helping you take off his trousers but staying in his underwear.

He gently guided you to your bed, his lips against yours whispering for you to lay down for him, and you complied, sprawled out on your bedsheets like a work of art made just for his eyes. He sat between your legs, looking down at your naked form and swallowing you whole, wide pupils burning a hole through you. You could see the way his cock twitched in the confines of his boxers as he eyed you, letting you know the sight of you like this was a delight to him.

He dipped down to press his lips over yours, hands tracing the sides of your body down to take a handful of your hips and drag you down closer to him. You took a fistful of the hair at the back of his head as you kissed him deeper, your hips rolling up to find his clothed erection to rub on for some relief, but his grip only tightened on your hips and pressed you still on the mattress.

"Needy girl," he whispered, giving your bottom lip a light tug with his teeth. Your response was a whiny moan and all he did was smile at your evident impatience.

One of his hands scaled up your body, taking one of your breasts and giving it a squeeze before toying with the sensitive pebble. His mouth followed suit, popping the other unattended one into his mouth and sucking on it, making another pathetic sound come from you.

He nipped your tits lightly, scattering bites and kisses alternating between the two while his fingers trailed down the center of your abdomen and down to between your legs. You absentmindedly spread them wider for him, the coldness of the room only making your drenched pussy more sensitive before he swiped a finger between your folds. The contact made you shudder, and John feeling your wetness made him growl a gravelly moan in his throat.

"Like this for me already, sweetheart?" you nodded your head pitifully which only riled him up even more. The rough fingerpads of his ring and middle fingers applied pressure on your clit, rubbing tight circles on it. John propped himself on his free arm as he watched the way your mouth fell agape in silent moans and as you squirmed at the way he treated your delicate pussy.

"P-please," you started, your legs spreading impossibly farther apart.

"Please what, love?"

"Need you, John," your nails dug into his shoulders. "Want you...so bad."

John was too good of a man to deny his pretty girl anything, so of course he moved his fingers and slowly dipped them into your aching entrance, painfully slowly. A mewl came from your parted lips as you felt the pressure of his only the first knuckle of fingers inside of you. If just his fingers were this thick and invasive in your pussy you couldn't imaginejust how much his cock would split you open.

His eyes were fixated on watching the way your face contorted as he pressed further in, so so so slowly penetrating you, until his fingers bottomed out inside of you. And then a beat later, you practically sobbed when you felt the digits curl inside of you, seeking out the spongy, sensitive spot inside your walls.

Your hands gripped John's biceps to ground yourself as he fucked you with his fingers, alternating between curling inside and pumping in and out of you. His thumb joined in to rub at your throbbing clit, and his mouth busied itself with one of your breasts once again. You threw your head back and just about fell apart, hips rolling to match his movements as you selfishly got off on his fingers.

"Fuck, doll...love how I make you sound," John cursed under his breath, mouth never leaving your tit as he lapped his tongue and tenderly bit the soft flesh. His cock was throbbing and leaking pre in his boxers, the impossible hardness of it almost made him lightheaded.

His mouth moved to your neck now, lips sucking on your skin to make sure when you went out everyone knew you were not to be claimed by anyone else but him.

"J-John," you sobbed, feeling the tightness in your stomach that was only rising further the more his fingers fucked you.

"I know, baby, I know," he cooed, "be good and cum for me, yeah?"

You nodded your head desperately, a hand reaching to tug his hair once again, peeling him away from your neck to crash his lips against yours. But he resisted, opting to keep his gaze on your teary-eyed face, his pace never faltering as he knew you were almost at the edge of the precipice.

"Uh-uh, doll...wanna see your pretty face when you cum."

With only a few more pumps of his fingers, your walls were clamping around the digits, your legs spasming and your moans being sobbed out as you came on John's hand. His rhythm slowed down, his thumb on your clit being the only thing moving and overstimulating your abused clit as you rode out your orgasm. Your ears were practically ringing and your mind was in a haze as you climaxed.

John's piercing blue eyes took in the sight of you cumming from just his fingers which were now completely saturated in your slick. He whispered praises as you came down from your high, breathless and sensitive. His fingers retracted from your pussy, collecting the juices that were oozing from you, that had now covered the inside of your thighs.

"Good girl," he purred, "so fuckin' good... look at you, sweetheart."

He brought his fingers to his lips, sucking on them and closing his eyes as a delighted hum came from him at the taste of you. "Taste so fuckin' good...missed how this pussy tastes so much."

You whined at his words and at the view of him tasting you on his fingers. Your hand weakly reached for his boxers, tugging on the waistband in a silent request for him to finally take them off.

He looked at you and chuckled, "So greedy...want my cock even after I just made you cum?"

"Need it, John," you said shamelessly, your eyes pleading for him innocently.

He sat back on his haunches, tugging down his boxers with his clean hand while the other reached to stroke his aching cock, coating it in the mix of his spit and your juices. He moaned lewdly at the contact, slowly jerking himself off in front of you for a moment, lubing up his cock and preparing it for you.

You watched just how pretty he was in his hand, how he sat heavily on the palm of his hand, flushed red tip and veiny, with a hefty girth that you knew would tear you open.

You watched him intently and your desperation for him was anew; arousal and neediness for him overcoming you again. You weren't going to be satisfied until John's cock was in you.

"I did promise to properly fuck you," his unoccupied hand stroked your cheek and you melted in his touch, your sweaty skin felt like it was on fire.

"And I keep my promises, love." he purred, aligning his cock with your socked entrance that he had just so generously prepared. When he pressed inside you felt his girth stretch you wide, feeling the sting of the intrusion despite his prep-work; and yet, he fit so perfectly in you, like the last piece of a puzzle. You gasped in unison as he buried himself into you to the hilt. He took a moment to savor the feeling of you wrapped around his cock, like a perfect mold cast precisely for him. Your walls fluttered around him, begging for him to move. And after a beat, he rolled his hips, slipping his shaft out of you until only the tip was kissing your entrance, before slowly sliding back into you. He kept this pace, pulling out entirely just to bottom out to the point you felt the mound of hair at his base phantom over your skin. You choked on your moans, nails digging at John’s shoulder blades as he pistoned his hips into you. His pace hastened and the sound of skin slapping against skin filled your home.

John’s hand was cupping your jaw, holding eye contact with you as he bullied his cock into you. Those crystal eyes watched your tear-filled ones, watched the way you lost yourself at the feeling of his tip punishing that sweet spot inside of you.

The way he fucked you was becoming more and more primal each thrust. John was at the verge of giving into every ounce of desire that he’d had pent up since the moment he walked into your cafe. Since the moment he’d tasted you. You felt the way his thrusts became harsher, the squelching sound of your pussy was lewd and sinful as you took every inch of him. He held you impossibly close, his thrusts were shorter but impossibly deeper, making his pelvis rub against your needy clit.

His breathing was ragged, huffing past his parted lips.

“Fuck, baby…been wanting you like this…so fuckin’ long, so fuckin’ bad,” he tucked your sweat-damp hair behind your ear before lightly wrapping his hand over your neck, just to feel your pulse, feel that you’re really there, “you’re fuckin’ perfect, n’ you’re mine.”

Now he slammed his hips into yours, thrusting with reckless abandon, losing himself in you. You let out a cry and tears rolled down your cheeks. A hand gripped at the tufts of hair in the nape of his head and his forehead rested against yours. You were his, since the moment he walked through the door you knew you would be. And here you were, your heart racing and your pussy enamored by the way he fucked you and claimed you as his.

You babbled mindlessly about how you were his, about how you wanted him to use you, how you wanted to cum so bad around his cock. So shameless you wouldn’t recognize yourself if you really heard what you were professing. You only heard a groan come from John and a string of curses as he fucked you impossibly deeper and harder, any further and you two would merge into one.

One of John’s hands slipped between the two of you to rub at your clit. His mouth clashed against yours, swallowing the moans that were flying out of you at the added pleasure, before encouraging to be his good girl and cum for him a second time.

“I can feel you so close, baby, so fuckin’ close,” he growled, lips still against yours, “let go, baby, be good and cum for me again, yeah?”

And it was like his word was your command. John’s thrusts and the feeling of his fingers rubbing your clit made you cum once more. Your back arched off the mattress and you gave another sob as you clenched around the wide girth of his cock, body convulsing as euphoria consumed you, burning every single one of your senses.

“That’s it, baby, that’s it.”

John didn’t stop fucking into you, though. He slowed down momentarily to let you come down from your high.

But then his pace picked up and became sloppier as he chased his own high, pounding into you to reach his own climax.

“Please, John,” you mumbled drunkenly “Want you— want you to cum, too.” Your body went limp like a rag doll sprawled on the bed, arms falling over your head on the mattress, letting him use you as he pleased.

John let out a growl as he leaned back, holding your hips in place so he could relentlessly fuck you to his heart’s desire. Huffing breaths and grunts escaped him, chest puffed proudly as he took you and used you like you asked him to.

And soon enough, he pulled out of you, spurting ropes of cum onto your lower belly and pussy. He grunted as his hips faltered, cock pulsating as he painted your abdomen and entrance with his seed. You moaned at the sight of him coming undone, at the feeling of his hot cum all over you.

John supported himself on his arm beside you, panting breathlessly as every drop of him was let out onto you. You tiredly embraced him as he came down from his high, planting lazy kisses on his sweaty face. He gave you an appreciative hum as he slowly let himself lay beside you.

The two of you lay on your bed exhausted, messy and in a haze but basking in the afterglow.

After a moment, John reached for the box of tissues you had on your nightstand and cleaned up the mess of himself that coated your skin. You let him and gave him a smile that conveyed how out of it you still were, to which he chuckled pleased with himself.

Once finished, he wrapped his arms around you, lifting your tired body to lay on top of his hairy chest. You were both sticky with sweat, but you were too drained to care as you lay on top of him, absorbing his musk and heat of his body. You felt his lips give a chaste kiss to the crown of your head before your lids started closing.

John’s fingertips raked over the expanse of your back as you drifted asleep, the last thing you gave him was content sigh.

He chuckled to himself, inhaling the scent at the top of your head before he let himself doze off with the weight of your body on him.

That night you didn’t dream. Your body gave out completely. You had nothing to dream about since all you wanted was lying under you in the comfort of your bedsheets.

#cod mw2 #call of duty mwii #fanfic #cod fanfic #john price #price call of duty #price x reader #price mw2 #price cod #captain price #john price x you #john price x reader #captain price x reader #price x you #john price cod #john price call of duty #captain john price

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piedpiperslists · 9 months ago

Text

Jungkook One Shots (LXVIII)

* s - contains smut

Never Let You Go by @yeojaa s wc~7.6k / tattoo artist!Jungkook Summary: You do things without thought, making impulse decisions that’d make Freud proud. Sometimes they pay off, sometimes they don’t. (or: Jeon Jungkook’s just as impulsive as you.)

You’ll Let Me? by @honeytae s wc~2.9k / established relationship

Savage Love by @whatifyoulivelikethat s wc~3k Summary: We all make happy mistakes, right? And Jeon Jungkook’s was fucking Min Yoongi’s ex-girlfriend. Oops.

Still Want That by @whatifyoulivelikethat s wc~6.3k Summary: Fucking Min Yoongi ex-girlfriend? A terrible idea. Being hopelessly in love with her at the same time? An even worse idea. Knowing he was being used and still doing it anyway? Ah, Jeon Jungkook, what are you doing?

Hotel by @satnin-darling s wc~5.1k / ft PJM, established relationship, idol au Summary: Jungkook always comes to Jimin's room at odd hours in the day because he says it's boring to be all by himself, holed up in his own hotel room. The real reason, of course, is because you're there.

Late by @satnin-darling s wc~6.7k / ft PJM, established relationship, idol au Summary: Sometimes, it can’t be helped that Jimin and Jungkook are late. It’s no one’s fault, really, since that’s what usually happens when all three of you are together anyway.

[...] Trick or Treat by @satnin-darling s wc~5.9k / ft MYG Summary: The Joker, a Gray Pianist, and an Action-taker were supposed to walk into a bar on Halloween. Turns out they don't even make it past the front door because they were too busy fucking each other to partake in this year’s spooky season.

[LOVE - 40]/[40 - LOVE] by @satnin-darling s wc~11.5k / tennis player!Jungkook, journalist!reader Summary: At the end of August, Jungkook had to pull out of one of the biggest tennis tournaments of his career. His injuries were inhibiting him and he felt like he was back to square one. He returns to Busan for rehab and he gets interviewed by you for an article. But your twin brother had just died and you were shocked with grief. So you spend a couple of days talking about tennis but underneath the surface, you cover so much more.

Kismet by @satnin-darling s wc~14.2k / strangers to lovers, fantasy au Summary: In this life, you get to choose what to believe in, be it fate or chance. But little did you know that some people above are messing with you, in the most non- prearranged way possible. Enter Jimin, who works for the department of Fate, with his unlikely colleague, Taehyung, who works for the department of Chance. They quarrel to no end, pulling at the strings that hold up the universe to fashion something that resembles destiny or coincidence. As a result, you and Jungkook end up being mere puppets to their ploy, which begs the question: is it fate or coincidence?

The Arrangement by @jiminisnotavirgin s wc~5.6k / angst, sugar baby!Jungkook Summary: Jungkook’s dinner with you, his noona, is different than usual, leading to an interesting and sexual escapade… in the bathroom.

#jjk list #jungkook oneshot

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ohhcinnybuns · 3 months ago

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I saw spicy skk art that made me think of this: sugar baby Dazai.

LISTEN. He's gotta be broke as hell now compared to all the money he was making in the mafia. And he has shown that he has absolutely no qualms using his body to get what he wants.

So now here's my vision: sugar daddy Chuuya. Honestly, Chuuya would probably donate entire paychecks away to Dazai to get Dazai to just leave him alone without anything romantic or spicy being involved, but Dazai's like no, I signed up for this, and it's my duty to please you, so I'll hold your hand and tell you how much I pretend love you!

Like, he's really out to embarrass Chuuya about it, but Chuuya also has that $$$ leverage.

The ADA kinda squint when they see Dazai starting to wear nicer clothes, or maybe he gets a new watch. Instead of eating canned crab all the time, he buys more expensive fish (but also because Chuuya threatened him to put the money to good use and not waste it on dollar store crab and cheap booze or else the deal they have is off)

SUGAR BABY DAZAI VISIONS FROM SKK ART?!!!! 🙌 👀 Share linkkkkkk if you still have it lol

I would absolutely love to see him as a sugar baby. Chuuya would absolutely donate paychecks just to get Dazai to leave him alone, but I’d like to think that Dazai is also down bad for his SD Chuuya even if he won’t admit it.

Like, he’ll buy Chuuya extra tacky hats to gift to him (even if it’s all bought with Chuuya’s money… it’s the thought that counts!) or he’ll try to wear the prettiest outfits so Chuuya can do a double take and Dazai can gloat about how he’s seduced a mafia executive with his good looks and charm.

Chuuya would get all flustered by Dazai’s flirtatious ways but buys Dazai a penthouse for their once-in-a-while escapades because, let’s face it, Dazai going from being broke to having money again turns him on 👀 Now he doesn't have to worry about his bills, doing side gigs, or working extra long shifts at the ADA. He can swipe Chuuya’s card without fear of hearing the darn “decline” buzz on the prompter when he wants a snack and he can finally learn to take care of himself.

#bungou stray dogs #dazai osamu #chuuya nakahara #skk #i can see your vision #sugar baby Dazai would live out all of our fantasies #he would also do very dumb stuff 💀#Dazai in a dinosaur costume just to irk Chuuya #Chuuya kind of happy that Dazai can now focus on self-care

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tiny-merkitty · 6 months ago

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caretaker/dad jonathan crane hcs 𓅨₊˚⊹

ⓘ i do not consent to k!nk interaction! any nsfw account that likes, reblogs, or in any way interacts with this post or my blog will be blocked and reported.

under the cut !

okay to preface, batman begins is set in the mid-2000s therefore these hcs are set in the mid-2000s

whether or not that's important is irrelevant it's for the vibes. its 2005 ok

needless to say Jonathan Crane is on the less outwardly affectionate side,

sterile is a bad word. vapid is a worse one

he definitely tries to ease up around you, initially giving the usual one-off remarks and eyerolls whenever anything went slightly array——

once he realized that was probably not the nicest thing in the world, he tended to keep his tone less flat. sort of.

definitely a learning experience, after awhile you both have to realize that despite him looking like he's trying to set you on fire with his mind, he is genuinely being nice most of the time. or at least neutral.

he takes a big priority in ensuring you're doing well though, while his attachment doesn't show through words or facial expressions he tries to come up through gifts and small acts.

whether it be making you every meal or washing your clothes or doing your hair, his presence is almost always joined by careful hands and a quiet voice,

he did have to teach himself to keep things you actually liked in his office though—

Jonathan learned quickly that sugar free gum and altoids are not an appropriate snack for a kid cooped up in the psychiatric asylum he's busy working at.

he's not clueless with kids though, in all fairness he read about fifty different blog posts. he also got marketed a multitude of sippy cups and blankets and maybe a piece of furniture but that's unrelated

he can come off as a little crass as previously mentioned, he'll word things carefully and speak gently but if he says bedtime at 8pm he means bedtime at 8pm and no later.

maybe a little later if you ask him to make you hot chocolate but 8:30 at the latest.

maybe 8:45

his parenting methods are on the strange and unusual side, given that he himself is on the strange and unusual side—

having nightmares? don't worry, Dr. Crane will make vague threats at the imaginary monsters and claim he can create things five times worse. sleep tight ??

breakfast!! this pancake is shaped like. a rorschach test

don't ask him about work he will keep that as far away as possible from you,

the extent of the last question he got was 'I work with sick people.' and then he continued drinking whatever mixture of too-much-espresso and soy milk was in his mug.

it's not that he doesn't trust you, per say, but he doesn't want you meddling with things that will more than likely harm you.

definitely huge on alot. alot of self care stuff .

have you seen his face there's no way he's not pouring at least a quarter of his paycheck into skincare

this extends to you of course, extremely overly fancy bathtimes with matcha bubble bath and overpriced baby lotion,

candles that are up high enough to not!!! be a fire hazard. little lavender sprays for your pillow,

he'll even do those vaguely scary looking animal themed sheet face masks with you

he's not a sad beige mom. leave him alone he's just pretentious

his favorite activities with you involve staying indoors,

usually crumpled under a pile of blankets with store bought cookies and whatever movie you picked out to watch,

blu ray. obviously. do you take him for someone who does not own a blu ray player (he didn't until last week)

he likes things that are intellectually stimulating for you as well, whether that be numbered blocks or simple puzzles,

he's always around to tell you that you did a good job, or to help if you're stuck on something,

very involved overall -- he doesn't do great with playing pretend but he'll wear colorful band-aids and sit on the floor if you want to play doctor,

Jonathan's life before was somewhat methodical outside of his other ....... escapades

you're a welcome addition and if anything he enjoys having someone to look after.

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chaotic-mystery · 2 years ago

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Pink | Joel Miller

Pairing: Dbf! Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel let’s you paint his nails and you pick the color that matches yours.

Word Count: 1k

All of my dbf! Joel is pre-outbreak, but he’s not a father (I’m sorry!)

ꨄ Let me know what you think, feedback and comments are always welcomed as are requests/ ideas! ꨄ

“Baby it amazes me how well you do your nails. They always look so pretty.” Joel whispers as he kisses your hand and pulls you closer in your bed. “You should let me paint them, you can have pretty nails too” you mutter and look at him with a huge grin plastered on your face. His eyes quickly meet yours, his eyebrows raised and he lets out a breathy laugh. “You mean like right now? Won’t it take forever to dry though? How am I gonna piss or eat or anything?” Your face dropped as he finished his sentence and you grabbed his face, shaking him gently. “Oh sweetheart, you’re so cute” you coo sarcastically, “I’ll use my gel polish so you don’t have to wait for it to dry. Plus, I know your ass wouldn’t sit still long enough without fucking it up.”

He gave you a chaste kiss and tossed the comforter back, getting out of your bed. His toned back faced you as he rummaged around the clothes trail you had left from your previous X-rated escapades. Getting up and tugging on a pair of sweats and a shirt, you hear Joel's footsteps get closer to you and soon enough his arm wraps around your neck, your chin resting in the crook of his elbow. His lips press against the crown of your head repeatedly, “You’re so beautiful, lil lady.”

Your eyes closed in happiness and tapped his arm to get him to quiet down. “Flattery won’t get you out of this.” You wiggled out of his arm and squatted down in front of your shelf full of knickknacks and random shit you’ve collected over the years. Digging through your container of gel polish, you hold up one to Joel’s eyesight, “Do you like this one?”

“Mmmm no, pick anything but that one.” he shoved his hands in the pockets of his pants as he watched you rummage through the bottles until you settled on one and grabbed the rest of what you needed. “I’m so excited to do this with you baby!” your voice carried down the hall as you sprinted to the kitchen, immediately setting all your stuff out on the table. You pull the chair out for Joel to sit in as you pat the back of it eagerly, practically dragging him to the seat. “Oh I’m sorry Ma’am, was I not movin fast enough for ya?” He jokes as you take the seat across from him and start filing his nails, shaping them before you push his cuticles back and buff the tops of his nails. Your tongue poked out between your lips in complete focus. Trying not to hit his skin with the rough grit. “Ouch!” He hollered as he yanked his hand back quickly and you dropped the file, apologizing profusely. Joel quickly busts out laughing and holding his stomach as his eyes are squeezed shut, his laugh echoing off the walls. “Baby, Baby I’m sorry I won’t do it again, promise. I’m done” he begs and puts his hand back in yours after kissing your knuckles softly. “You’re an ass, I thought I cut you! Don’t do that, jerk face.” You tried hiding a grin but it was no use and soon your laugh was escaping your lips.

You brushed his nails off with the soft bristle nail brush before wiping them down with alcohol, and painted the base gel on one hand at a time and set them under the UV lamp for 120 seconds.

“I hope you don’t mind this color, but I thought it’d be cute if we matched”

“Yeah Sugar, I don’t mind black. It’s sexy, I think it’ll look good on me.” He seemed all for it until you glanced up at him with your lips pressed together holding back a giggle. “Black? Who said black? Are you forgetting I have two colors on my nails?” His smile dropped instantly when he realized he was not getting black nails.

“Hunny...really?”

“What? I think it’s cute!”

He watched as the sparkly pink gel polish quickly coated his thumb nail, contrasting against his beautiful tan skin. “What am I gonna do with you, huh?” he rhetorically asked and just shook his head, chuckling. “Oh shut up, you love me” you muttered as you put his hand under the lamp once again but for sixty seconds this time. He just stared at you in awe, a small glimmer in his eye. “You’re amazin, sweet girl. You’re my world.” The lamp turned off and the blue glow disappeared from his face but his smile was still there. “Oh, stop you don’t mean that” you stated and started on his other hand. He took the nail polish brush from your hand and put it back in the bottle, getting your attention. You looked back up at him and his face was serious this time. “Darlin’ I mean every word I tell you. You’re so special to me, you truly are my world. If I didn’t mean that do you think you’d be paintin’ my nails this sparkly ass pink color?” His head tilted to the side as he could see it clicking in your head he was being truthful.

“Well it’s about time you started catchin up to me. I’ve liked you longer than you have me, but it’s okay I’ll let it slide since you’ve come to your senses it seems.” You joked and grabbed the brush again, finishing his hand before setting it under the lamp again for sixty seconds. “Alright now, smart ass. Don’t get bratty on me now”

The last step was putting the top coat on which was fast, and Joel watched closely at the lights on the lamp as the timer counted down. He pulled his hand out when it shut off and he held them up in front of his face to admire your work. “Fuckin’ amazing baby doll, how much do I owe ya?” You stood up gathering your trash and he tugged you onto his lap, your legs straddling his waist. Joel's hands slithered around to your ass and gave you a pat as he kissed you.

“How much do I owe you, baby? Cmon, I wanna pay you for your hard work. Fifty dollars? A Hundred?” Your hand covered his mouth and you shook your head no. “Nothing baby. I don’t want your money. Just put those pretty fingers to use again and we’ll be even, how's that sound?” You questioned and that damn smirk grew on his lips, agreeing that’s fair.

#dbf!joel miller #dbf joel miller #dbf!joel #joel miller x f!reader #joel tlou #joel miller x reader #dbf joel blurb #dbf joel miller x f reader #tlou hbo #joel miller hbo #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal characters #my writing

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annachum · 12 days ago

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Angel Dust's sexual escapades with Valentino became a nightmare for him

At first it started off so good, Valentino was at first, a seemingly tender lover and everything Angel has hoped for

Yet as time went on...

Valentino becomes increasingly more abusive, cruel and manipulative behind closed doors. Each sexual escapade becomes more harrowing than the last, with Valentino deaf on his cries to stop as he kept pushing past his limits in the bedroom

Even worse Vox sometimes watches the whole thing while fapping himself over such inhumane torture

And then there was Husk - the sensitive Bar cat with a gruff demeanor

Angel Dust took one look at him and fell in love at first sight. Husk is nothing like Valentino - no fakery, no bullshitting, just straight up honest truth about most things.

And that's one thing Angel likes so much about Husk - he is everything Valentino is not

After Husk saved him from the shark gangsters, the two have gotten closer, testing the waters of their new budding romance, as Husk set Angel healthy boundaries, being a real gentleman to him and all that

It felt....nice. Not the thundering butterflies he once felt about Valentino ( whom he grew to loathe ), but a stable, secure kind of nice

Their first kiss after their first date was a tender and sweet one. Husk was the one to ask for consent, and Angel laughs and said, ' Oh, sugar, ya had me at hello. '

He gently held Angel's waist, flew up a little and tenderly kissed Angel's lip gloss mouth, as the rain poured outside of them, while they stayed in the shade outside of the Italian restaurant Husk took him to ( a month after the events of Loser Baby )

And their first time after their first time fighting the Exorcists together was truly special for both of them

Angel, being used to be a ' service ' in bed, is surprised ( in a good way ) that Husk strives to show Angel what it truly means to feel good in bed

' Let me make you feel good, Angel, ' Husk crooned in his ear. ' You deserve it, kid. '

And their first love making was a slow, sweet, and sensual one, far more passionate than any of the porn flicks Angel starred, far better than those times Valentino and sometimes Vox sexually assaulted him.

Angel sobbed in joy as he reached his first orgasm with Husk. It was one of the best feelings ever, for both of them

And as they lay there on Angel's pink bed, both feel luckier than ever, that they found love in a crapsaccarhine place

#huskerdust #husk and angel are each other's saving graces #fuck Valentino and vox #fuck the vees actually

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bonny-kookoo · 2 years ago

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𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐝 Part 2: Plastic Rhinestones

Jungkook just loves playing with you, while you think you've got the whole thing all figured out. But maybe, down the line, both of you have forgotten the rules to the game you're playing- and it's starting to make things more and more complicated.

Tags/Warnings: mc still hates kook, kook hates her too Angst?, enemies to ???, past regrets, miscommunication, Fluff?, slow burn, sugar daddy Jungkook vibes (they're getting stronger), minor age gap, sexual thoughts & suggestive talking over the phone, there's tension baby and it's getting worse

Length: ~3k.

-> Masterlist

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"So you're gonna fuck her and then what?" Jungkook asks, and Jimin chuckles a little, leaning back into the couch.

"Was thinking about it." Jimin shrugs. "She's cute and seems up for it, so why not?" He says while tapping away on his phone while Jungkook shoots him a glance through his long hair.

He's met up with Jimin at his own place, casually talking until his friend had brought up you, and his plans to woo you into his bed, no strings attached. Park Jimin doesn't do relationships after all- he breaks hearts casually, and enjoys living rather leisurely. And while yes, Jungkook does in fact participate in similar hijinks whenever he's got the time for it, he's not the same as the man in front of him. He's always upfront with whomever he ends up sleeping- it's only for pleasure, it's nothing personal, there's no chance for feelings after it. But Jimin? Jimin likes to play with people, and that's something that Jungkook just doesn't want to happen to you.

Usually, he would just tell himself it's none of his business. But if it involves you, it is his somewhat business.

"And then what?" Jungkook repeats his question, making Jimin scoff.

"Then nothing. Come on, you've got no right to lecture me on shit like that. You fuck them left and right and then? Nothing either." He says before he looks at his friend with a suspicious smile. "Or are you jealous?" He asks.

Jungkook clicks his tongue. He's not jealous- why would he be? If anything, he should pity anybody who's got to survive whatever boring escapades Jimin makes happen. He's protecting you from a disappointing orgasm, nothing else. "As if. Fuck her six days till Sunday for all I care, it's not like I'm gonna miss out on anything." He shrugs, words empty in their actual meaning as he himself doesn't even believe them in the slightest, adjusting his posture. He doesn't know why he even said them. Maybe just to put up that façade again, so he won't get teased for it to high heavens. "I just don't think you should." He shrugs, making Jimin scoff.

"And why not? Because you called dibs on her or what?" His older friend asks, before he seems to become more thoughtful. "You're worried she might talk." He says, crossing his arms. Jungkook feels somewhat offended by those words.

"No, but one day one of all of your flings will." He says with a bit of an irritated undertone- since his friend is missing the entire point. "I helped you get where you are today. Any of the shit you fuck up is gonna turn on me as well, and it feels like you keep forgetting that." He mentions, making his friend sigh.

"Hm. You've got a point." He shrugs, uncrossing his legs as he picks up his phone. "Well, I'll keep it in mind now though. Please don't think I'm not grateful." Jimin offers, ruffling the younger one's hair and making him groan out in annoyance at that.

And after he leaves Jungkook's apartment, he himself can't help but think about how odd it felt to hear his friend talk about you like this. He really isn't jealous, not at all.

So what's his fucking problem then?

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You honestly don't know how or when it started, but by now, occasionally, you'll drop by at his company building to eat at the cafeteria there with him whenever he asks via text. It's an odd habit you've both created for no reason other than boredom and the need for company- but man, does his attitude piss you off almost every single time you meet him here. If it wasn't for the free food, you wouldn't ever fucking talk a single word to him ever in that place.

The predator in his natural habitat, so to speak.

"I like you, yeah-" you shrug, answering a flirty question he had sneaked in during your meal with him. "-But you're no better than any other guy, really." You tell him, as he sits across from you, trying hard to keep his cool.

He agrees that Jimin probably only wants you as a trophy to show off, yes- but Jungkook himself? He doesn't. He doesn't care for that, doesn't see any worth in telling anybody about whatever you might indulge in behind closed doors. That's for himself only.

He wants you for himself only.

"Am I now?" He challenges, leaning back on his chair, one leg over the other as he relaxes in his posture. You feel oddly threatened by him in that moment, and not even in a bad way. He's more like a predator very much toying with his prey- confident he'll catch it no matter how far it runs.

And maybe you want to know how far he'll let you go before he starts the chase.

"Who cares." You say, taking a sip of your beverage in front of him, trying to appear unbothered by his words.

"You, apparently." He chuckles to himself, amused by your acting. He has already noticed the way you've started to shift around on your seat, legs restless as you evade any eye contact with him. "And there's nothing bad about it. I'm flattered, if anything."

You laugh. "Flattered by me insulting you?" You raise an eyebrow. "Boy, you must have some odd kinks. Not that I'm judging." You wave off.

"You really like barking like a little dog, don't you?" He asks, and you stop everything you're doing as your heated gaze finds his. "Its cute. Adorable, really, how you keep yapping at me." He smiles.

"I take back everything I said." You threaten, crossing your arms. "I hate you. You're so full of yourself, it's disgusting." You huff, and he grins with a wolfish grin.

"I mean.." he tilts his head a little, eyes dark as he licks the silver piercing on his bottom lip. "…you could be full of me too." He offers, eyes never moving away from yours, as you swallow thickly. "All you gotta do is beg." He teases, laughs when you turn a bit red across from him.

"In your dreams, Kook." You jab only, slapping some bills on the table to pay for your portion of the drinks and food, before you leave the company building.

Him still smiling to himself, satisfied as he pulls out his phone to send you the money you've left on the table back with a generous bonus on top- receiving an influx of angry emojis and even angrier insults from you only seconds after the payment is sent. He knows you'll use the money, even if you tell him you won't. He knows you just can't quite get a thank you out from between your lips when it's directed at him.

He just loves playing around with you- because he knows he's the only one who get's under your skin like this.

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Jungkook doesn't like parties.

Jungkook likes you going to parties with him even less.

The whole situation is quite ridiculous really- he had it long coming at this point however. He's almost thirty after all- people are constantly asking questions about potential lovers of his. He's good at hiding any escapades he might've had in the past; but the most annoying thing mostly for himself would be rather that there haven't been any. At least not since he's gotten closer to you this past year or so.

And he honestly doesn't even know why.

He's gotten over his stupid crush he'd had back when you were in your final year of school, staying over at his home every now and then when his sister was living with him during her final year. He's not who he was back then anymore, and he's glad he's not- but at the same time, some things feel like they're just stuck now.

Any girl he takes to bed (or on the couch, he's not really picky), always seems to warp into someone that looks like you- and it's just weird at this point. He doesn't have a crush on you. Of course, you're pretty- exactly his type, both personality wise and in looks as well, but that doesn't mean that he thinks about you as anything other than his best friend's friend who he kind of lusts over.

That doesn't make him special. You've got a lot of his friends licking their teeth for you like you're some prey to be caught. And granted, it pisses him off. You're a grown woman, not some piece of meat.

It's why he takes you out to so many of his company's events like these. He's taken you to Paris for a Dior show he'd gotten invited to, had brought you along to movie premiers, or private aftershows. He wants you to experience these things because you simply deserve it in his eyes- he can't explain it well enough for it to make proper sense, but that's just what he feels like. The look in your eyes of pure amazement at the paintings in the louvre museum in France, the stars reflecting in your eyes when you were drinking whine on the balcony of his hotel room in Dubai, or when you both walked through new York together.

It's weird.

When he's alone with you like this, in situations where you more or less have to rely on him to make sure you'll be fine, you get along great. You laugh, it's light and comfortable, relaxed even- no arguing, only playful banter and honestly good memories made. When in situations like these he does see himself even developing an emotional connection to you- but then you come back, you say your goodbyes, and the next time he meets you again with Taehyung or Jimin for just casual evenings to spend, he just feels like he's annoying you. Like you're annoying him. It just feels wrong, like a sweater that's itchy but you can't take it off.

It's horrible, really. And he doesn't even know who or what to blame.

Because again, right now, he couldn't be happier with you as his company- you're beautiful in the dress you'd picked, mature but naturally playful in the way you carry yourself. You always feel so fresh compared to all the faces he sees around him at times like these- it's all just so confusing.

"Do you think they'll write a dramatic article about me if they spot me eat all those fancy snacks there?" You ask him, fingers having tugged slightly on his sleeve to get his attention. It's small things like these, your giggling, the ease at which you seem to wrap him around your finger just by standing close to him like that, it's stupid how it always gets under his skin. All he can think about right now is how close you're standing to him, how you still hold onto his sleeve, how utterly mischievous you look right now as you eye the catering table. "I'm really hungry.. how long is this whole thing?" You ask, looking up at him.

That Dior lipgloss is really doing god's work, making the low lights of the hall reflect on your lower lip, while tinting them a subtle shade of warm pink. "Jungkook?" You ask, catching him from his thoughts.

"One more hour, then it won't look impolite if we leave." He chuckles down at you, before he takes a look around. "Though there might be a problem brewing over there. They've been talking to each other the entire time." He tells you in a bit of a lower tone. "Don't look." He orders- and you don't.

"What's the problem?" You wonder, and Jungkook sighs, clearly upset but trying to keep himself in check.

"I think they might've gotten the wrong idea about you and me." He explains. "We had to pay off three magazines last month because we've been seen together in Dubai, and now they want to gossip about you being my new 'toy'." he rolls his eyes, making you giggle.

He doesn't see the joke in any of it. You're not a 'toy' to anybody- it's insulting how they've been trying to paint you to the public.

"I mean, granted-" You offer, stepping a bit away from him before you brush something off of his tie. "-we do look like a couple sometimes, not gonna lie. Or. you know, like sugar-daddy and sugar-baby; god knows I'd never be able to bag someone like you." You laugh, before sneakily turning around to look for the group of people Jungkook had been referring to earlier. They're still talking, smiling to each other about something said amongst them, their eyes firmly on you. They're older men and women- but they honestly don't look too mean.

"Cut yourself some slack. I know a lot of guys who'd murder for a gem like you." He teases, and you cringe a bit, making him laugh. "What? Don't like my flirting?" He asks, brows raised.

"Oh I like your flirting- but not whatever the hell THAT was.!" You giggle, before you slide your hair off of your shoulder. "Just tell those magazines I'm like, your sister or some shit. Won't that clear up the air?" You ask, and he plays with his piercing for a second, before he shakes his head.

He wants to tell you that he doesn't want to lie and later be caught in a scandal if he does end up getting that close to you, if he does gain that courage and ask you out, if you do end up agreeing to trying out a relationship with him-

But he doesn't say anything, and just goes to grab your coat, ready to leave and bring you home.

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Jungkook has a bad habit.

Okay, he's got multiple if you're to be given enough to write them all down, but right now, his worst habit is his absolute lack of timing. Or maybe it's perfect timing if his goal is to just piss you off- in which case, his timing is always absolutely on point. "What?!" You hiss into the phone, turning your babypink vibrator off, letting it fall onto your bed.

You'll clean the sheets later.

"Oh wow, you sound like I interrupted some heavy workout there." He chuckles. "Though knowing you, you've been rather jerking off than actually hitting the gym." He teases, making you roll your eyes something he can't see, but surely imagines you doing.

"Fuck you." You bark at him, sitting up slowly, disappointment evident in every breath you take as you take a proper breath. "What do you want?"

"What were you using?" He asks, and you fall into silence at that, the question catching you off guard.

Jungkook is always pretty forward. He flirts, he teases, he uses anything he's got to get under your skin- but he's never been this blunt. And right now, you can't even deny what you've been doing, because he wouldn't believe you anyways- so should you actually answer him? You have to. Otherwise he'll think he's got you- and you won't give him that achievement, ever.

"A vibrator, you know, something I can trust with making me cum instead of being disappointed." You try to casually tell him, though his chuckle on the other end of the line makes you horribly weak in your knees. It's probably still the aftermath of your ruined session of self-love.

Yes, that's it.

"Cute." He simply comments. "Though I take from your sour attitude that it failed at it's task this time?" He almost sings, making you frustrated again because fuck him, fuck men, and fuck this one most of all ten times. "Poor thing. Guess I'm honored you picked up my call though, instead of finishing up." He laughs to himself, and you scoff.

"Fuck off, I thought it was something important." You bite at him. "I could finish myself off right now just fine, you do nothing to me." You try and jab at him, though you should've known he doesn't play by those rules. His own don't apply to him. He's cheating in his own game, and you know it- and yet you fall into his traps every single time.

"Oh?" He says, before he chuckles darkly. "Prove it." He demands, and you squeeze your legs shut as if on instinct.

If you deny, you'll never hear the end of it. If you agree, you'll never hear the end of it. You don't even know if he's serious- maybe he just wants to tease you as always, not putting a single ounce of truth into his demand- and yet, it also fills you with an odd shameful sense of excitement. You've never done anything like this. And his voice is pretty nice to listen to, so..

"Make me." You challenge, and you expect him to laugh, or say anything else than what he actually ends up saying.

In this moment, he's the voice of reason. This is dangerous territory you're both walking on, and while you might be completely clouded by lust in this moment, but he's still very much clear in his head. "Not like this." He simply tells you because of that, voice awfully sober, so much so that it makes even you sit up now, phone in your hand.

All until the shame hits, making you frustrated and embarrassed. "Just say you're fucking with me, asshole, no need to pull such a piss-poor joke like that.!" You angrily tell him- though his next words make a shiver run down your spine- and not a good one, in fact.

"I'm far from joking." He says, sighing. "I apologize for even.. letting it remotely get here. That was entirely my fault." He tells you, and you sigh.

"What did you even want in the first place?" You ask him, by now completely pulled from your mood anyways.

"Nothing. I actually don't remember it anymore." He chuckles a bit awkwardly. "Sorry for my bad timing. I'll leave you to it." Jungkook almost rushes out, before he hangs up.

And he doesn't know that for a good moment, you stare at your phone just as confused as he is.

What the hell was that?

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