#Marquis Vincent de Gramont x reader

[chiffxna]

A Love Too Dark Masterlist

The Marquis Vincent de Gramont x Reader

Summary:

She was working as a bunny-girl in a casino when a mysterious VVIP arrived to ruin the peace in her life.

It's scary when someone like the Marquis de Gramont - ambitious, rich, and highly influential - took an interest in you.

WARNING: THIS IS A DARK FIC.

This story will contain 18+ mature themes, blackmail, forced kissing, dark romance, toxic behaviour, blood, violence, stalking, manipulation, a lot of smut, dubious consent, non-consensual content, non-consensual creampie, breeding, yandere Marquis de Gramont, power play, and power imbalance, obsession, dark Marquis de Gramont, and abuse of power. The list will be added more as the story progresses. Minors, don't read.

This story is also available on Archive Of Our Own (AO3) site.

Link

Chapters

Chapter 01: A Deal With The Devil

Chapter 02: Chaos and Risks

Chapter 03: He Grabbed Her

Chapter 04: Insatiable Need For Satisfaction

Chapter 05: Dark And Primal

Chapter 06: Lives In His Hands

Chapter 07

If you’re interested in being on my taglist to be tagged in the next chapters, please leave a comment here and mention the taglist.

[elorday]

— ✪ valerie's may fic recs

thank you so much for all of these writers for making me smiling with a lots of butterflies in my stomach, making my mouth hanging agape, or crying so hard and sweating hot. i really can't thank you enough<3

some fics contain nsfw (✦)

𖥔. SCREAM—

⭒ — ETHAN LANDRY

✦ title taken : @astermath

20/20 vision : @echnated

slyther-in to my heart?! : @ghostfacd

✦ “it's okay, i'll show you.” : @messylustt

sleepy : @corpsebasil

bejeweled : @xyzstar

𖥔. ENOLA HOLMES—

⭒ — SHERLOCK HOLMES

we'll be alright : @love-strawberry

✦ exactly what you need : @delicate-moon-princess

bewitched : @cinebration

what happens after death : @hannibals-favourite-meal

𖥔. HOUSE OF THE DRAGON—

⭒ — AEMOND TARGARYEN

would you love me if i were a worm? : @chiss-and-crackers

valentine's day : @vhagarlovebot

you belong with me : @mybeautifuldelirium

⭒ — CREGAN STARK

among dragons and wolves : @fairysluna

✦ dissolve : @vermithorn

the snow fairy : @wackapedia

⭒ — HARWIN STRONG

✦ i am his and he is mine : @procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics

keep you save : @auroraborealyss

✦ princess : @faith-forgxtten-land

𖥔. BRIDGERTON—

⭒ — BENEDICT BRIDGERTON

drunk sketches : @delehosies

little things : @inpraizeof

⭒ — ANTHONY BRIDGERTON

✦ right in front of me : @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69

✦ melt away : @healmydesires

𖥔. F1—

⭒ — DANIEL RICCIARDO

meet me at midnight : @fleetwooods

don't wipe away my love : @avisgrace

memories hold me hostage : @libraryofloveletters

it's okay, i'm here : @norrisleclercf1

still into you : @starkwlkr

⭒ — CHARLES LECLERC

when you're missing me : @silverstonesainz

name(s) of love : @kiwisa

𖥔. SPIDERMEN—

⭒ — TASM!PETER PARKER

lean in, lean out : @literaila

i know : @vivwritesfics

✦ hold you here, my loveliest friend : @p3mybeloved

clingy : @bruisedboys

⭒ — MIGUEL O'HARA/SPIDERMAN 2099

i need you to stay : @intoxicated-chan

mid night : @eyelessfaces

⭒ — PAVITR PRABHAKAR

dance with you tonight : @foreverwiththeunknown

⭒ — MILES MORALES

cheesecake : @ichorai

first kiss : @moralesie

𖥔. DC—

⭒ — ADRIAN CHASE / VIGILANTE

five times vigilante definitely does not have feelings (and the one time he does) : @tropes-and-tales

now or never : @whirlybirbs

⭒ — BRUCE WAYNE / BATMAN

talk : @ichorai

𖥔. JOHN WICK—

⭒ — JOHN WICK

one-sided love : @desoolate

remember me : @arece

⭒ — MARQUIS VINCENT DE GRAMONT

stay : @unreliablesnake

✦ something wrong with me and you : @fonteyn

𖥔. LOCKWOOD AND CO.—

⭒ — ANTHONY LOCKWOOD

the language of longing looks and stolen glances : @fleetingvow

just another love song : @tangledinlove

public displays : @vi-trying-to-survive

ain't a life many splendored thing? : @wellgoslowly

[thedivinevera]

❦Alternative❦

Your basic yandere x reader story but he is transported in the body of his variant who happens to cheat on you.

Imagine working so hard to make your darling fall in-love to you and you suddenly find out that another version of you in an alternate reality is cheating and wasting the love you blessed to his variant. - yandere!

(This is the more "headcanon" like post than the other one where it looks like a script/ convo of my Au uni)

Part 1 and 2

Yandere!multiple characters x gn reader

Tags: yandere x reader, male characters, established relationship, alternative Universe (Au), no gender reader, yandere au, cheating au, multiple characters

Tw! : Yandere, toxic relationship (2 types), CHEATING, unhealthy obsession, MENTIONED OF SELF HARM, mention of death, mention of murder, using profanity (curse). OOC CHARACTERS

A/N hellooo this is my first time doing a multiple character post (and my first post after a long hiatus,). Honestly there are a lot of fandoms I really want to contribute so I decided to just do this!!! So as a reminder; since this is multiple characters post, expect a lot of OOC

Yandere x reader but he's transported into another alternative Universe, where his variant cheated on you.

Yandere x reader but rather than seeing a traumatized reader (mainly caused by him) he sees an either a begging reader who desperately asks him how he could do this to them or a reader who's cold and seems to just don't give a fuck about him but either way it's far more better than seeing you traumatized and lifeless

Yandere x reader but he's comforting and promising to you that he will never do it again and if that means he would need to be put in a leash, camera in his house, or kill himself if he did it again, then so be it.

Yandere x reader but he killed the person he cheated with and hurt themselves intentionally in the process because his variant (the body) and that person is the reason why his beloved is hurting.

Yandere x reader but he manipulated you to accept him again by letting you see the scars he put in himself because "he" deserves it and put on a show that he's guilty that he couldn't live knowing he hurt you.

Yandere x reader but he's now treating you far better than his variant, of course excluding the fact that he's too possessive and obsessed with you, but hey! Atleast he's not fucking some person behind your back.

Yandere x reader but he never wants to go back to his alternative Universe because as long as you love and care for him he would never want to leave you again.

Yandere x reader but he's so fucking angry because in his world he had done everything to have what his variant have; you and he just waste it for a fucking whore.

Yandere x reader but he almost put himself in self destruction because this body is the same body that hurts you.

Yandere x reader but now everything that he had plan for the future is finally can be put in place.

Yandere x reader but he loves you so much to even think about cheating with you because he thinks that your love is an extension of his life and no matter what happen, no matter how beautiful the person is he would never think of cheating with you ever again .

Yandere x reader but he's ready to be put in lobotomy just to show he would never cheat on you :))

Some meme :)))

[unreliablesnake]

Stay (Vincent de Gramont x reader)

Summary: Vincent would go to great lenghts to keep you by his side.

Note: Previously on... / I can't get enough of this dude. / If you want to know when I post new stuff, follow @unreliablesnakefics and hit the get notifications button. I don't have a taglist.

You gave Vincent the silent treatment for the rest of the day, even refusing to breathe the same air as him. You locked yourself in your room, although all you could do was lie in bed and stare at the ceiling since he had taken away your phone back in New York. It was hard to be all alone here, especially knowing that your friends were in the very same city at the moment.

He tried to come in. He kept his manners in check and knocked instead of barging in, but since you refused to answer, he eventually gave up and left. Then later there was a soft knock again, one which was followed by a letter being slipped into the room under the door.

With a sigh, you picked it up and sat on the edge of the bed to read it. He invited you for dinner, and he wanted you to wear a dress he had left in front of your room. It wasn't a long letter, but you could feel his adoration through every single handwritten word. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath. Why did he have to do this? Why did he have to be so nice to you?

After opening the door a little to make sure no one was nearby, you brought in the box with the dress to take a closer look at it. You hated to admit it, but Vincent's taste was impeccable. This was the perfect color for you, the perfect silhouette, the perfect fabric. And the matching nude shoes were heavenly too. Everything was great, and you hated that you loved it.

Two hours later you walked down to the hall where Vincent was waiting for you, wearing another phenomenal suit and looking as dashing as always. And when his eyes landed on you, you could tell his breath caught in his throat. He opened his mouth to say something, probably a compliment, but when you shot a warning look at him, he changed his mind.

He took you to a fancy restaurant, but instead of going to a table far from the rest of the guests, they led you to a private room in the back. Well, what were you expecting, really? That he would spend the evening among ordinary people? Vincent talked to a waiter in French once you settled down across from each other, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from smiling.

Silence ruled the room when you were finally left alone, but you didn't feel like breaking it. You wanted him to suffer. You wanted him to understand that he couldn't always get what he wanted. And he got the message. As those beautiful green eyes were glued to you, you noticed the change in his expression.

“Marry me,” he said out of nowhere while he pulled out a ring from his pocket.

You almost fell off your chair. This must have been a mistake. Something was definitely wrong with your hearing. “I'm sorry?” you asked hesitantly, even though you saw the ring that proved it was way too real.

Vincent flashed a charming smile at you. “You heard me.” He stood up and walked around the table to stop right in front of you. “Marry me.”

“No,” you gave him the only reasonable answer.

“Why?” he asked, sounding genuinely confused. “I would give you everything your heart desires.”

You couldn't help but laugh at him. Did he just try to buy your love? “I don't want to stay here, I already told you.”

“You would seriously leave me for your life in New York?” he asked, a hand finding its way to your cheek as he spoke.

“Yes.”

Suddenly he crouched down and steadied himself by putting his hands on your thighs. “Wouldn't you miss me? Be honest with yourself. Wouldn't you wish I was there with you whenever you felt lonely?”

“Don't,” you warned him.

“You want me, mon amour, why are you trying to deny it?”

“Stop projecting.”

His fingers dug into your skin through the fabric of your dress, moving towards your core painfully slowly. “You kissed me several times on your own free will. You slept with me because you wanted to. Why are you acting like you didn't feel anything?” he asked.

It was terrible and wrong and damn it, he was right. You had given in too many times for your liking in the past few days. Winston was right, he knew how to charm a woman. When his hands reached your inner thigh, you put your hand on his to stop him.

But he didn't react the way you expected, because he was quick to lace his fingers with yours, raising your hand to his lips. “Stay with me,” he whispered against your skin.

“John will win, and when he does, I'm going home,” you told him plainly, hoping he would finally accept it.

Vincent let out a sigh, clearly trying hard to keep his composure, and stood up. He didn't say anything, instead he sat down and pushed a button on the little device the waiter had given him. Soon the wine and the food began to arrive, and the two of you focused on that instead of talking about his ridiculous idea.

The next day you were livid. This son of a bitch appointed Caine to be his representative in the duel because he didn't even care enough to do it himself. Or he was just sure John would easily kill him so he chose a way that ensured he would stay alive.

“You're nothing more but a spineless cockroach, Vincent,” you growled at him when you returned to his home.

For a moment he looked surprised to hear you talk to him like that, but it didn't seem to bother him. If anything, he looked calm and sure of himself, as if he had made the right decision by getting someone to do the job for him. “Darling, you don't seem to understand,” was all he said.

But before he could give you a speech to defend himself, you raised your hand to stop him. “I don't care. I don't want to hear your excuses. I'll be in my room,” you told him before turning on your heels and marching in that direction.

Before you could leave the room, you felt his arm sneak around your waist and pull you against his chest. “Don't go,” he whispered into your ear. “Stay with me until the end.”

Inhaling and exhaling slowly to calm yourself, you thought about what to say. You didn't want to be near him, yet you wanted to be by his side. Your brain and your heart wanted entirely different things, and it confused you. Feeling his body heat made you melt into his arms, but your brain kept reminding you that he was a monster.

“Let go of me,” you told him threateningly, expecting to feel him move away from you. But his grip only tightened, and he rested his chin on top of your head. “Vincent, don't do this. Please,” you said, trying a different approach.

“Stay,” he asked you quietly.

Gulping, you put your hand on his and stayed like that for a minute or two. It was nice to feel this way, knowing he cared so much about you, but this feeling didn't last long because you soon pried his arm off of yourself.

When you turned around to look at him, you were met by his disappointed gaze. “Don't give me this look,” you told him as you pinched the bridge of your nose.

Vincent only watched you in silence, clearly trying to come up with a plan to convince you. But then he nodded and walked away with his phone already in his hand, giving you space as you wished. A part of you, a small, quiet part of you felt disappointed that he left, but once you shook your head and went in the other direction to your room, you felt a lot better.

Just a few more hours and you will be free. You will go back to New York with Winston and John, continuing your life as if this didn't even happen. Sure, Charon's death would always remind you of it, but the pain will fade away with time.

As the day passed by, you eventually crawled out of your room, but Vincent was nowhere to be found. One of his men said he was working, and when he led you to him, you found him standing by a table with an angry look on his face.

“Is everything okay?” you asked cautiously.

He finally noticed you when you spoke up, but he didn't say anything at first. Just when you thought he would shut you out, he reached out to signal you to come closer. With a sigh, you did as he wanted, and once you stopped next to him, he leaned down to kiss you.

You weren't expecting this. It took you by surprise and you wrapped your arms around his neck without realizing you were doing it. “No. No, no, no, stop,” you mumbled once you came to your senses and pushed him away. “What's going on?”

He told you everything. He told you about his plan to get John killed before sunrise. You shouted, you pushed him, you told him what you thought of this stupid idea. It wasn't fair, and you thought he was better than this. He wasn't a good person, but you believed he had standards.

This time he didn't even try to make you stay. He let you leave so he could focus on the ongoing manhunt.

Hours later you went to the location of the duel, patiently waiting for John and Caine to arrive. You and Winston exchanged worried looks when you heard gunfire nearby, only minutes before the deadline. If he didn't make it, you would have to stay here. This wasn't good. No. This was nerve-racking.

But he arrived and you felt like you could finally breathe again. That's until John ended up on the ground, slowly bleeding out. You glanced over at your boss, but the corners of his lips curled into a barely visible smile. Before you could understand what was happening, Vincent jumped up and took the gun from Caine.

Did he really wait until John was vulnerable? This was a low you weren't expecting, but apparently he felt like ending the duel himself. But there was a catch, as Winston was quick to inform him–John hadn't shot in the last round yet.

“I'm giving you a chance here,” John suddenly said. “I let you go if you give us everything we want and promise never to come after us.”

“John,” Winston warned him.

You couldn't decide whether or not it would be a good idea to let him go. After everything he had done, it wasn't guaranteed that he wouldn't go after John anyway.

Vincent looked over at you, and you could see that he was still shocked. “Will you stay with me?” he asked you quietly. “Or at least will you visit me?”

John didn't seem to understand, and even Winston raised an eyebrow. But by now you were quite used to him asking you to stay with him, although this was different. This time it felt like he would rather choose death if you said you wouldn't meet again.

“I won't stay here. But,” you added before he could say anything, “I like this place, so I might come back for a few days. That is if you keep your word.”

He nodded. “All right. Anything you want, my love.”

[endless-ineffabilities]

le marquis et le moineau

Marquis de Gramont x f!reader

themes: angst, twisted business associates(?) to lovers, dubious morals, the Marquis has his eyes set on you and only you (but you don't know that ofc)

a/n: this bloody Frenchman has been plaguing my thoughts (thanks to a very sinister portrayal by one Bill Skarsgård). Mind you, I still haven't even seen the film John Wick 4, but I'm a fan of the series, and the morsels I've seen of the Marquis have been more than enough to give rise to a new lil fixation.

word count: 932 ▪︎ more of moineau ▪︎ other works

It started as a little game.

Just some passing fancy between yourself and the Marquis.

Or at least, that was what it was supposed to remain. Only that. A game.

But you should have known better. You should have known that any game played with Marquis Vincent de Gramont may eventually turn deadly.

Your high-risk job at the Continental usually also reaped the highest of rewards.

Tip off the right person and receive a gold coin. Deliver a message, without any bumps or bruises to all parties involved, and your reputation would be given a much-needed boost or two.

This business was danger wrapped in deceit wrapped in glamour. And you knew how to deal the right cards.

Although it seems, things are not as easy when it comes to the Marquis.

Vincent was every bit a menace as his reputation decreed. The Marquis tasked with restoring the authority of the High Table, he was nothing short of cunning and ambitious, prepared to take down any and all those who posed a threat to his objectives.

Dangerous. Deceptive. Glamourous as well, mind you. He was perfectly suited to this world.

He was also brazen, pretentious, snobbish.

And beautiful.

He knew just how to tug at your strings and make you bend. Or at least, he always tried to.

Like he was doing then, in one of the bigger rooms in his palacial estate, wherein only the two of you stood with only a few feet in between.

"What did we agree upon, mon moineau?" His silky accented voice implored.

My sparrow, he called you. The reason for which remained undisclosed to you, not for a lack of trying to wrench it out of him.

Why couldn't he call you something sweeter? Of the more classic French romantic sobriquets?

Chérie, perhaps. Mon amour. Mon coeur.

But no. You were stuck with measly ol' "my sparrow".

Of course, not that it mattered. Perhaps the Marquis reserved his sweeter words for those he actually cared for. At the very least, well-regarded enough to be associated with. Those impossibly beautiful and refined members of European aristocracy that he was so often rumoured to be wining and dining.

Unlike you. Renegade, foul-mouthed vagabond.

You stared up at his pacing figure. "I am fully aware of what we agreed upon, Vincent. What I have done does not breach that. I am perfectly capable - "

His head snapped to you menacingly. "You could have been killed, moineau."

You shrugged. "Consequences. I did not enter this damned line of work without considering the risks. As it goes, getting killed would not exactly be an uncommon occurence."

"Don't jest." He shut his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose, in obvious annoyance.

You took a step forward, trying to find his gaze. "And if I were to... pass... so what? Everything would simply go on. The truth is that I'm already a ghost. Doing what I do in our world makes me some kind of spectre. I am already not there."

You knew this. You repeated this to yourself when you woke, and before you went to sleep. It was the only truth you could hold on to.

Until him. Until some buried, twisted part of you began hoping that he would care.

But hope is a dangerous thing.

You continued, as he kept looking away. "You would go on. Perhaps even find a new sparrow to play with."

You felt it. As your words hung in the air, his entire mood shifted. He straightened, and with both hands burrowed in the pockets of his impeccably tailored trousers, his eyes land on you.

He slowly took a step forward, and then another, until his figure loomed over you.

In all your shared moments, you learned to discern the quick switches in his temper and his expression. But not enough, not completely.

The look he was giving you then was impossible to read.

"You think..." His left hand drifted to the hem of your blazer, toying with it. "... that I..." His index finger then drifted upward over your silk shirt, stopping in between your collarbones. His tongue briefly darted out to wet his lips, catching your eye. "... would simply replace you?"

You finally felt his touch on your face, his fingers delicately caressing your jawline.

He made a fleeting tsk tsk sound with his tongue, as if in disapproval.

"I believe you underestimate just how much you matter to me, mon moineau."

You did your best to remain unfazed. This was the game, wasn't it? Whatever you might think it can become, what you hope it can unravel into - set it aside as delusion.

Don't fall.

It's just a game to play.

Don't fall.

You took a deep breath, then smiled sweetly. Mockingly. "What makes you think I would even pay any mind to how much I matter to you? That line of thinking doesn't work for people like us, Marquis."

"People like us," he repeated, amusement furrowing his brow. "Non, mon moineau. There are no other people like us."

He leaned in, eyes not leaving yours, all but eliminating the distance between your faces. You could feel his breath on your skin, could count the faint spotting of freckles around his nose.

You wished to ask him what he wanted, but held back.

No. There was something better to say.

"What are you waiting for?" You managed to voice the words despite your very heart lodged in your throat.

He smiled, proud of his precious sparrow.

"Mon coeur... I've been waiting for you my entire life."

Ahhh! 🖤 Everybody say thank you Bill Skarsgård and the on-set stylist for the visual treat that is the Marquis.

I'm not even sure if this will find the right crowd - seeing as my lovely followers are of the HotD persuasion. But oh well, I had to get it out of my system.

Could be more of this... idk 🤷‍♀️ Rest assured I haven't forgetten about all my series works, even the ones I haven't started but said I would do...

[kingkat12]

quelle jolie chose (marquis de gramont x reader)

WARNINGS: mentions of bodily harm, violence, intimidation, humiliation

summary: as the new owner of The Continental in Moscow, you should've known better before helping John Wick escape Russia-- what will the Marquis do when he finds out you've been in contact with the excommunicado he's been after all along?

word count: 1,714

a/n: this is chapter one of a quite long Marquis fic i'm writing, so don't you worry... there's much more to come!!! and there are some french words here and there, i am NOT french lol so do correct me if i'm wrong, and there is a vocab at the end!! enjoy<33333

I hadn't planned on facilitating John Wick's escape from The Moscow Continental-- nothing was going as planned, these days. That was truly dawning on me as the Marquis' guards gripped me harder, forcing me down on my knees in front of him as I glared up at the statuesque man before me. 

I was well-versed in the rules of the High Table, having grown up in the order. It was only recently that I had taken over the hotel, almost immediately after my father's untimely death. I had suddenly found myself at the center of the operation I had watched from afar my whole life, and had the truth about my father's work unveiled to me during a time when I should've been mourning him. It had been terribly hard, but I had gotten myself together for the sake of the hotel. For the sake of my life, my family, and our legacy.

However, nothing had been more important than the debt I owed John Wick. Funnily enough, that was exactly what had gotten me into this situation.

"You should've known better than to succumb to such foolishness," The Marquis took another step towards me, his eerily green eyes drilling into me with intimidation unlike anything I had ever seen before. "We know your father was weak when it came to Mr. Wick, but you? That you would be helping an excommunicado evade us? That was certainly unexpected from the newly instated owner of The Moscow Continental."

I hated that this was happening in my penthouse. Had I stayed at the hotel tonight to tend to business, I would've at least been sure he wouldn't kill me. The grip the guards had on me, the force in which my knees were being pressed against my newly polished wooden floors, nearly had me wincing-- but there was no way in hell I'd show him how scared I was. My gaze only hardened, trying to wry myself out of the strong hands holding me down; "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about!"

Letting out an exasperated sigh, the Marquis rolled his eyes. It was almost as though he was bored with me. "We have it all on video," he grumbled, unimpressed with my attempts of denial. "Him at the hotel, him in one of your cars, and videos from the shootout at Sheremetyevo airport. It seems you're good with a gun, miss... Actually, it's probably good to find out whether you have one on you right now." With a wave of his hand, the guard next to him stepped toward me, and it didn't take long before I was pressed face-down to the floor as I yelled out in protest.

With tears pressing upon my eyes, I could only curse as they managed to find the knife in my boot and continued to search me-- my eyes widened when they moved up my thighs, finding the gun I had stuffed down the side of my hip before having gotten dragged into this room, ambushed in my own home. I let out another yell, kicking with the best of my abilities, as my pants were dragged down my thighs and my hands were held tightly at my back.

I heard a hum coming from the Marquis, who had stepped away to make himself a cup of tea by the table I had set up a few weeks ago. Everything about his nonchalance angered me further-- I couldn't believe this was happening to me in the room I had set up to focus on the one thing that gave me a sense of purpose and peace; my paintings. They were hung up on the tall walls, and I caught a glimpse of Vincent admiring the one to his left.

My head pounded with fear, not used to this sort of humiliation. These feelings were new-- I knew I was the only one who could save me now that John Wick was out of the country. I looked away, pressing my forehead against the floor, still fighting my captivity. 

I didn't need to look at the well-dressed Marquis to know that he was watching the whole ordeal play out before him. Then again, I didn't know a single man who wouldn't watch a woman get undressed, unwanted or not. So there I was, splayed out on the floor of my atelier, the cold winter air of my penthouse hitting my bare thighs with my red panties on display. I wanted to cry, embarrassed beyond belief about being in my underwear in front of all of these men, but also scared like never before-- would they take it further than this? Would this be the moment where what I had dreaded all my life was about to happen?

Thankfully, my pants were quickly put on, but my favorite gun was confiscated. My cheeks were still bright red, remnants of tears pooling in my eyes as I was propped back up on my knees. "Aren't you supposed to be of nobility?" I asked, speaking through gritted teeth as my head hung between my shoulders in shame. "Did no one teach you to treat ladies with respect?" I couldn't remember a time when any other member of the order had been strip-searched-- sexist fucker. 

The Marquis let out a short chuckle, the arrogance evident even in his laugh. "What makes you believe you deserve my respect after helping John Wick? You're quite rightfully on your knees now, and hopefully, you'll start begging for your life soon. For your own sake, of course," 

"I would rather carve out my own eyes than beg you for anything," I said, a low growl building in my throat along with my anger. "And you know that you need me alive. The whole of Russia will go to war against you if you kill me, and you can count on Bratva and Rusko Roma to avenge me!"

It didn't take long for the Marquis to change his mood once more-- his pompous sneer disappeared off his face with one twitch of his eye, and within the snap of a second, he threw the cup of tea across the room, shattering the glass against the wall with a crushing sound that echoed through the halls. "You will obey!" he yelled, coming towards me with loud, booming steps. Blinded by anger, he crouched down to grab my face in his hand, his grip on my cheeks making me wince. "It doesn't matter to me who your father was or how important you think you are, because you work for me!" 

"And that is where you're wrong," I continued to struggle around the grip his guards had on me, wanting nothing more than to be freed and strike him right across the face. However, a sense of calm washed over me when I realized he wasn't here to kill me-- he couldn't. "I don't work for you. I work for the High Table. You're simply a code in the software, and right now you're pissing off the highest-ranking official in the biggest country in the world. Are you trying to wage a war on Russia, Vincent?"

The mention of his first name had him squeezing my face even harder in his large, rough hands. But this time, I didn't react-- I simply stared back at him, watching the way his pupils shrunk as he focused on me like I was prey. Up close, I could see the deep scar on his cheek, the way his lips pursed with anger, and it suddenly dawned on me that he smelled like a mix of tobacco, amber, and leather. Very manly, very expensive; enticing. 

"War," he echoed, another twitch of his eye ensuing. "Pas de souci. That is not what I want. But what I do want, however..." The Marquis let go of my face, getting up from the ground. "I want John Wick dead, along with his allies. And since I can't kill you yet, it seems I have to make use of your friendship with the excommunicado." With another wave of his hand, the guards let me go-- I pressed my palms against the floor in relief, letting in a shaky heave of air. 

I looked up at him through my brows, feeling my anger pulsing through my veins. "He's long gone, Vincent. He's not coming back to Russia,"

The Marquis hummed; "Get him back, then,"

"He won't--"

"Do it, or I'll put your mother's head on a spike!" His voice boomed through the room, leaving behind an echo that made me want to wince once more. "If he's not here within a week, I will have you bound and forced to watch me rip her limbs apart!" 

My lips parted in shock, feeling as though my body had frozen over. Everything about his threat made me terrified out of my mind-- I couldn't risk it. I knew that the Marquis was dangerous and that he could easily follow through with his words; I needed to get myself together, for the sake of my family. It took a lot of power for me to get up from the ground, balling my fists as I met his threatening gaze. I watched as he stood before me, clad in a ridiculously expensive grey-ish suit, visibly ready for any fight I might want to put up. 

I wasn't stupid-- I realized I was surrounded by his guards with no other choice than to obey. I didn't even have my gun anymore, nor did I have my trusted bodyguard; I wondered whether his body still lay lifeless in the hallway, bleeding out all over my new carpet. 

I was cornered, and I knew it. Which is why I got down on one knee and put my hand over my heart, accepting my reality; "I will be of service,"

The Marquis snickered at my pledge, clearly pleased. He tilted his head to the side, his eyes rounding out in victory at the sight of me willingly kneeling. "Quelle jolie chose," he breathed, nodding to himself. "Good. Very, very good."

I wanted nothing more than to shoot a hole through his face. I couldn't wait for the day I'd get that opportunity.

vocabulary:

pas de souci: no worries

quelle jolie chose: what a pretty thing

[ashyyslashy]

faustian bargain - marquis vincent de gramont x f! reader (john wick: chapter 4)

synopsis: To clear your debts to The High Table, you agree to a proposal by the Marquis to live with him as his partner.

warnings: language, sexual content (p in v sex, choking), semi-toxic relationship dynamics

word count: 2.8k

a/n: the john wick lore makes my head spin!

You stared into the weathered face of the man on the portrait before you, tucked away in a private corner of the Marquis' expansive gallery. The wrinkles and creases bore the weight of years of suffering, the lines of his face hard set in permanent anguish. You often imagined them as a collection of sins etched onto his aged features. Sometimes, you found yourself likening the image to a Picture of Dorian Gray. You would wonder whether the Marquis' misdeeds had marred this painting instead of his own self, leaving his striking handsomeness intact, and he’d hidden it from view.

The portrait reminded you it was too late to regret the changes that had taken place; only to find a way to cope with them. You had become used to seeking refuge in your thoughts amidst the entrapment of your existence. You would conjure whatever you liked to make this engorged mansion seem less stifling.

You had made an off-hand comment to the Marquis once, that you felt like a cat in a cage without enough room to stretch its legs.

He had chuckled, with his own catlike eyes boring into yours. "Mon amour, you are only bound by your own pride and reluctance. Laissez-vous être libre."

In seeking freedom from The Table, you traded one form of enslavement for another. For some unknown reason, the Marquis had taken an interest in you upon your first meeting. So he offered you a choice: join the fruitless battle to kill John Wick or stay with him in his home until it was all over, in some sort of twisted romantic scenario. Whether he was driven by boredom, liquor, or pure schadenfreude, you were unsure. Regardless of his motivations, you knew there was really only one correct answer if you wanted to live.

"I'll live with you," you'd told him. "But what is it you really want from me? No bullshit."

"The companionship of a beautiful woman, is all. Is that truly so wrong?"

His full lips formed into a roguish smirk.

You should have known there'd be a catch. You didn't simply live in his mansion - you were confined to it. Even with supervision, you weren't allowed to leave the property. As a result, you desired his presence in order to fill your solitude, developing a sudden and unexpected connection to the man. It was shocking how quickly your resolve to spite him faded. He became your lifeline, your connection to the outside world. And despite your best judgement, the more time he spent away, the more you yearned for him.

You hated his brand of intoxicating hedonism, the luxury items and expensive food he lavished upon you to win your favor. But you wore the designer dresses he laid out on your bed and drank the aged wine that was served at dinner.

You felt like you were betraying what you stood for through your infatuation with him. You resented yourself for growing so dependent upon him. Every touch you shared, every pent-up moment of sexuality - and there were few and far between - sent a flood of guilt rushing throughout your body. You'd wanted to escape The Table, but had only gotten yourself in deeper by fraternizing with the enemy.

The worst part of all was that he assumed a total indifference towards you. He would only provide you with the occasional caress or kiss on the cheek and any coy allusion he made to romance or sex in conversation was carefully veiled. He was forcing you to make the first move, and you wished so strongly that you could shatter his confidence by refusing to make it.

But at the same time, your resolve was wavering - every part of you was consumed by a flaming desire for him, steadfast in its absolute power.

You knew you had to do something to extinguish it.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The clatter of silverware resounded throughout the dining room, forks scraping against fine china.

You'd been fixated on him all night. Your eyes were glued to the veins flexing in his hands as he grasped his utensils, the curve of his lips when he brought a forkful of food to his waiting mouth, the tensing of his sharp jawline as he chewed.

Every time he met your gaze, your nerves stood on end. The meal seemed to drag on, and no matter how much you ate, nothing could fill the gaping pit of anxiety in your stomach. It was just the two of you tonight, and the air felt charged with electricity.

"C'est fini," the Marquis commanded suddenly, pushing his chair back. It dragged across the polished floor with a squeal.

As you always did, you stacked the plates and carried them into the kitchen, starting to wash them until the staff refused to let you help any further. You wished they would allow you to do more- you hated not feeling of use, and you disliked others waiting upon you. Your sense of independence was unshakeable, even here.

When you left the kitchen, the Marquis had gone, likely retired to his chamber. You were counting on that. You hurriedly crossed the house, taking deep breaths for what you were preparing to do.

Standing in front of his door, you raised your right knuckle and rapped upon the wood. You heard shuffling within.

"Who is it?" he called.

"It's me," you replied sheepishly.

"D'accord. Come in."

You slowly pushed open the door and stepped into his room. His bare back was facing you, muscles rippling as he leaned over to unbutton his pants.

Your cheeks grew hot. "Um- you know, you could have told me to wait and gotten dressed first."

He turned around, stepping out of his pants and laying them next to his discarded shirt on the bed.

"I was not aware you were such a prude."

You scoffed and mumbled something under your voice about "public decency", trying to hide the anxiousness creeping into your tone. He strolled past you with an air of nonchalance, naked save for his boxers.

"So are you going to tell me why you're here?" he continued after several moments, folding his clothes with all the ease of someone who's never had to do their own laundry. He slipped a silk robe over his body before pivoting towards you, his eyes boring into yours.

You let out a breath of air. "Um... I need to ask. What's going on here? With us?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. What is it you want from this?"

He shook his head. "Déjà vu. You have already asked me this. My answer has not changed."

"Sure. My company, huh?" You replied in an insinuating tone.

"If you are implying that I expect you to do sexual favors for me, do not worry. I would have asked by now."

"What a gentleman."

"Mmm. When I say company, I mean company, chérie."

"Alright. Well..." you stepped towards him, shaking off any lingering feelings of hesitance. "I think you're a coward."

He moved closer, a dark look crossing his face. "Oh, do you?"

"Yeah. You know, I hear a lot around here. And I see how you pull the strings to ensure that everyone but you faces John Wick."

His jaw hardened. "It would be wise not to involve yourself in things that do not concern you."

"See, but you being a coward does concern me. I mean, it must be why you're just biding time until I make a move on you. Since you won't be the one to do it."

You were playing with fire, taunting him like this. You'd know him long enough to become immune to his attempts at intimidation, however.

He treaded backwards, barking out a laugh. It was strange to see him lose his perfectly-maintained composure even for a brief moment.

"You think you know everything, non?"

"I know more than you think," you countered. "You didn't deny it, after all."

"So this was the purpose of the visit? You have come to lecture me for not being man enough?"

"No. I came to ask you to be honest."

"I am not an honest man, chérie. You should know that. So what is it you want me to say?"

You were aware you were about to give away the upper hand, but fuck it.

"It'd like to know if you really do want me."

He shook his head, lips pursed together in amusement. "And did you not just boldly declare that I do?” 

"Stop toying with me."

He let out a sigh of exasperation. "I cannot understand why you ask me this. If I did not want you, why would you be here? I have given you space, and you interpret this as a sign of cowardice. I did not think boldly pursuing you would go over well. My mistake."

"That's not what I'm saying," you retorted, an indignant cry escaping your lips. "I'm alone in this house most of the time, and when you are here, you treat me as if I'm invisible. I feel like the fucking toy that the spoiled brat refuses to play with."

"You believe this is how I see you?"

"Yes, I believe it," you spat.

He laughed again, the sound not as sharp as before, humorless.

"How wrong you are."

"Then tell me your side of the story.”

He sat down on the edge of the bed, his hands resting on either side of him.

"I decided I would not send you to the front lines of this war with John Wick. I am confident I will win, bien sûr, but not without casualties. I did not want you to be one."

"Why?"

"J'sais pas. A feeling I had that I cannot explain. I just knew I wanted to give you a way out. I..." he trailed off. "I did not do it to taunt you, as you think. And I am not indifferent towards you. I thought that much was obvious."

"How wrong you are," you imitated.

"You are one to talk, chérie. You walk around as if you hate me and everything I stand for."

"I wish I did,” you replied ruefully.

His expression was unreadable. You approached him, standing over his form on the bed. Tentatively, you reached out to untie his robe, your movements slow in the case that he'd want you to stop. He stared up at you with unblinking eyes as you slid the folds of his robe to the side, revealing his bare chest. He shrugged the rest of the garment off, allowing it to fall to the floor. You slowly ran your hand across his abs down to his happy trail. 

"Do you like what you see?" he murmured, his eyes searching you for validation that you were surprised a man of his status would be asking for.

"I saw it before when you were walking around half-naked, but yes, I do."

Ignoring your sarcastic comment, as he tended to do, he gestured towards your own clothing. "Take it off."

You were too caught up in the headiness of the moment to protest that he'd phrased it as a demand. You pulled your nightgown over your head, and it joined the clothing pile on the floor.

Gazing at you intently, he placed his hands firmly on your waist and pulled you towards him. He took one of your breasts in his mouth and then the other in turn, swirling his tongue around your nipples. You dug your hands into his brunette locks as he peppered your chest with love bites, exercising his newfound lack of restraint. 

It was hypnotizing to see his guard go down, a hungry, animalistic fervor overtaking him. He was feverish with his movements as he pulled you to straddle him, his hard cock pressing against you. You tugged down his boxers and let the member spring free, admiring it for a moment before moving your hand in front of you to pump it up and down. You adopted a slow pace to offset his sudden frenzy, determined to leave him wanting more.

He slid backwards across the bed and you followed, your hands still working around his cock. He laid his head down on the pillow, looking at you lazily with hooded eyes.

"This must be how all of your fucks go, huh? You just lay down while the other person gets you off?" you teased while suspecting there was some truth to the notion.

"I'm simply fulfilling the role you've already carved out for me, non?" he retorted, reaching out his hand to smooth your hair back.

You spit on your hand and lubed up his cock, feeling the intensity of his gaze burning your face. You pressed down on his shoulders for support as you lifted yourself up into a crouching position, lining him up with your entrance. 

He sat up slightly, helping guide you onto his cock with eagerness. He sloppily buried himself inside you, and you began to create friction, bouncing up and down with your legs wrapped around him and your nails digging into his shoulders. 

You relished in the effect that your ministrations had upon him. He was a silent lover beside the occasional soft breath or inhale, but his pleasure revealed itself through his body language; his mouth gaped slightly open, eyebrows furrowed, head arched back. You couldn’t help but admire him.

The two of you moved in harmony, soaking in your collective loss of inhibitions as your pace grew faster. You’d caught yourself imagining this a few times late at night, cursing yourself as your hand crawled down to the hem of your nightgown. 

It felt so much fucking better when it was real. 

You scratched deep marks in his skin as ecstasy washed over you, climbing closer to your high, your walls clenching against his cock. Suddenly he was trying to move you off him, and the spell was broken as you looked down at him in confusion.

"Lay down on your stomach," he instructed, and again you bent to his will.

You felt his arm snake around you from behind, his hand clamping down around your neck. You went lightheaded from the sudden loss of oxygen, and a moan escaped your mouth as you felt him enter you again.

"Is this man enough for you, chérie?" he whispered, his breath hot against your ear as he rammed into you from behind.

He was pounding you mercilessly, and you knew that to tell him to stop was to reveal further weakness. You moved to brace yourself against the bed frame, but his hands were on your arms, pinning you down so you were entirely at his mercy.

"Tell me I'm a fucking coward now," he challenged.

"You're - not - a - coward," you managed to choke out, his thrusts continuing to increase in intensity, the sound of skin slapping against skin reverberating throughout the room.

He hummed his approval, before taking ahold of you and flipping you onto your back. His left hand moved to play with your clit as the other returned to your throat. Your back arched in anticipation, your body tingling from the combination of his cock thrusting into you and the movement of his fingers.

"I'm gonna cum," you cried out.

"Ouais, cum for me."

Your body trembled under the weight of your orgasm. As soon as you'd collapsed back down, he quickly pulled out of you, letting out a guttural groan as he shot his load over your tits and upper stomach.

He reached his index finger into the mess, drawing a heart in the sticky liquid and completing with an arrow through the center. The juvenile gesture caught you entirely off-guard until you looked up to see the amused, self-satisfied expression on his face. 

He pressed his finger against your lips, gently nudging for you to open it. You took his finger into your mouth, sucking it clean.

The Marquis laid down beside you, his eyes roving over your body. You surveyed his in return, unused to seeing the skin that he always had hidden under layers of a suit. You half-expected him to tell you to get out, maybe even toss you a twenty-dollar bill, but he said: "Do you want to sleep here tonight?"

It took you a moment to process the question. "Uh- yeah, I guess I will."

"Très bon. I will get you a cloth to clean up.”

He rolled off the bed. As you listened to him rifle through the cabinets, you were hit with the realization that you'd crossed a line you couldn't come back from. You'd fallen into his trap and given yourself over to him, just as he'd always suspected you would. 

He returned to your side, handing you a plush washcloth. You wiped off the evidence of your clandestine encounter, but as he turned off the lights and pulled you under the covers with him, you knew it stained you somewhere deeper. 

When you closed your eyes, all you could see was the haunting portrait. And all that lingered on your mind was a deal with the devil. The Table still had its claws in you.

[marquisedegramont]

I love your sub!marquis fic with the reader choking him with his pocket watch! Will you write more sub!marquis works?🥺

-🧸

Hi 🧸anon im going to use this as a reason to post a short drabble of mine okay? > w < -> dom!reader, blowjob, one line of dialogue, pillow prince!marquis

He can’t get enough of you, the way you suck him off. The warmth of your throat and mouth around his cock, and Vincent’s nothing more than a soft, sensitive mess around you. You hear him desperately trying not to let out those noises of him— and yet you can hear the short vocalizing of his pleasure. Short whimpers and his breathless panting.

His pale legs are around your head, with shallow bite marks and the edges of your nails pressed into soft skin. Vincent is tiredly grinding into your mouth, trying to find that release as fast as possible. You know that he likes it rough, and fast. You don’t intend to give him that pleasure.

“Ah,” he mutters, “ah…non…”

You go down on him faster, the tip of Vincent’s cock in the wet warmth of the back of your throat. You can see the curvature of his stomach and how the light bounces off of it, the sudden and quick movements of his stomach caving in from pure pleasure. Vincent hands grab a fistful of the bedsheets under him, messing up and wrinkling the pale beige fabric.

[dreamilymagicalhideout]

Coat

It has been a really long time since I posted something on tumblr. This was made from the bottom of my heart since I don't want to work, but I have to because I have to pay my bills *sad*. Here it is, I hope you guys like it.

Marquis Vincent de Gramont x f!reader

~

You take off your high heels and put it on the side. Your socks still cling to your feet. You were walking through your bedroom. Feeling the cold ties below you. You look around the fancy apartment, searching for Vincent.

You told him that you wanted to meet him to talk about something, which he did not reply as he seemed to be sulking at you because you were too busy with your work these days. He felt like you neglected him and yes, you have to admit that it is true.

This month was the last month of your contract. Your company wanted to extend it. However, you on the other hand, was not keen on the idea. You just worked there because you have bills to pay. It's not like it is your dream job or something. You just have to work because you need money. But all of it has changed since Vincent entered your life.

That tall handsome man with expensive suits managed to entered your life somehow, despite all the differences between the two of you. It has been a year since you met him. You still remember your first meeting with him. Your company was known to be a technological company who offered a course for a middle aged workers who happens to be lost in this digital era. And it turns out that your boss was an acquaintance of him.

:readmore:

You met him at the company's party. Which he attended and surprisingly you were invited too. Later, you found out that the reason that you and some of the workers were invited was just because of their good looks.

It was clear that everyone who attended this party was out of your league. You were glad that you were not overdressed, however it seems like it was a good idea to search for fresh air for a moment.

You were greeted by a cold air once you opened the glass door. Now you regretted choosing this type of dress where there is a low cut on your chest and a puffy shoulders. Which now make you felt cold. Even if you had a long skirt, it did not help a lot because your feet still have goosebumps.

Maybe it was not a good idea to step out here. However, going back in is not a pleasant idea either because you really loves solitude.

"You must be cold in that dress" Said someone behind you.

"Thanks for stating the obvious" you turned your head, wanted to see who was talking with you now.

"You're most welcome" He said with a smug smile on his oh-so-handsome face. You could see his face as he stood next to you. His tall body towering you even with those high heels on. You can tell that everyone here has expensive suits. However, his was seemed to be on a whole different level. His hair was styled neatly, making his forehead visible. Those long legs bent a little as he was talking to you. 

"I am sorry if I interrupt your space here" You said with the intention of returning his rudeness.

"No problem" He said as he just standing beside you. You both were just standing there without talking, but it was not a comfortable silence when you see the scenery in front of you and he was just standing there while looking at you, making you felt agitated.

I mean should he introduce himself first since he was the one who interrupted your space?

"My mom said it was rude to just stare and not introducing myself. So Y/n" You introduce yourself first since you know he did not plan on introducing himself first.

"Marquis Vincent de Gramont" well that explains the accent.

"What should I call you?"

"Vincent would be fine"

You actually wanted to just enjoy your time here alone. However, this tall person did not support your idea as he kept staring at you.

"Do you perhaps needs something?" You asked politely.

"Yes"

"Is it possible for me to help you?"

"No"

"Okay"

"I need a coat actually because it is cold here. And from what we have seen here, it seems like you dont have any coat at your disposal"

He was just being a brat.

"Forgive me for not being able to fulfill the things that you need" You said sarcastically.

"That's fine actually, you don't need to feel bad" He said playing along with you.

"You are so ungentlemanly" You said while looking at his face.

"That was my sex appeal"

"…"

You are just keep staring at anywhere but him, but those eyes still clings into you somehow. You pretend like he did not have any affect on you. As if those green eyes did not make your face burning.

"It seems like you have felt warmer somehow" He could see that your face turns redder than before. You open your mouth to say something, but your brain just freeze, so you closed your mouth. Then, you can feel someone coming, you saw someone in a black suit walking closer. You looked at Vincent while he just looking at you. Clearly did not care about the guy who was approaching you.

"Sir" The guy is the black suit gave him a white coat. He take it without looking at that guy, he did not even say thank you. His eyes were locked on you. He put the coat around you. You knitted your eyebrows. So when he said he needed a coat he meant this? For you? When did he even get it?

"Searching for a fresh air in the middle of a party where you meet a tall handsome stranger, then he gave you a coat. What could be more cliché than that?" You just stare at him in dazzlement. Literally don't know what to say. He was delighted when he saw your reaction.

"See you later" And then he left. Just like that. Leaving you all speechless. You don't even say thank you to him.

It was such a scene from a movie, however he did not ask your contact or something that could keep both of you stay connected. But somehow, he managed to find you again and make another cliché moments with you until both of you were officially a couple.

Now that you are in your apartmrnt with Vincent. You called out his name, but no one answered. You thought that he might not come since he was still mad at you, so when you saw that there is a 6'4" man sitting at the couch in front of the plasma TV you were a bit surprised.

Here is the sulking man sitting there without any intention to move or answering you. He was in his usual three piece suits. His sleek hair was pushed to the back making his forehead could be seen. He was leaning to the couch, his elbow is on the arm rest while his fingers is on his forehead. Seems like someone was bored and angry.

"Well, hello there" You greeted him while you sat next to him. You've got no response from him.

"Did you wait too long?" He was still silent.

You wrapped your hands around his arms. He swayed a little but he held himself from doing so.

"I have a news that I would like to share with you" You tried to be clingy at him, batting your eyelashes as you soften your voice. He seems to be insterested as his eyes were looking at you.

"What is it?" Oh! It speaks!

"You must be pleased to hear it" he arched his eyebrows, waiting for your next words.

"I am no longer working because my contract has ended" You were looking at him in the eyes while you said that. You could see the glimmer in his eyes as you said those words.

"WelI, I have you all to myself then" He said as he starts to wrap his arms around you. His body which seemed to be unmoved was now moving to you.

"What do you mean? I'm always yours" You said with the smile on your lips. You could tell that he was amused when his lips turned into a smile too.

"I like where this conversation is going" he studied your face as you look at him.

"I see that you are now unemployed. Now I hired you as my Personal Assistant"

"Is this serious?"

"Deadly serious. Now come on" He held your hand as he guided you through the front door.

"Where are we going?" You realized that he has changed now, back then he was just dragging you around anywhere by your arms or wrist. Now he he did not do that anymore, he held your hands and pull you with him slowly.

"Your first job, darling. We are going to Paris" he said with a lopsided grin on his face. You could tell that he was no longer mad at you.

"I haven't even packed my things"

"You don't have to do that, it's fine"

"We haven't signed the contract yet"

"There is no contract, you are already a permanent workers" Now you know that he was just joking.

"Wait, my shoes" You are now in front of your apartment without any shoes on. The height difference between you and him are now palpable as he walked in long strides and your short feet need to catch up to them.

"You don't need those shoes"

"It seems more like a kidnapping than a work"

"Either way you love it" his smile got wider as he said that.

"Tu es un morveuse mais heureusement je t'aime" He said smugly.

(You're a brat, but luckily I love you)

"Speak English" You protested.

"Oh wait je t'aime means i love you, right?"

"I don't know. What do you think?" He asked back.

"You should teach me more French"

"Say 'je veux te baiser'"

(I want to fuck you)

He said that with a glint on his eyes and a smirked that fully morphed on his lips. He was still looking at you while walking. Really waiting for you to say those words.

"I got a feeling that somehow it was not the right thing to say"

And just like that you are now on a plane to Paris. You currently have nothing to worry about. The days of having to get up early in the morning to pay your bills were gone. The man beside you could take care of that as his outfit right now costs even more than your salary in one year even with bonuses on.

*fin*

Yes! I fell deeply in love with bill. By the way, I apologize if the French was wrong because I use google translate:). I hope to see you again in my next writing soon. Until then, take care.

[writingbyshiloh]

Cautious yet Optimistic and Graceful Part 2

Part 1 & Part 3

CW: Morally gray reader, F!Reader, John Wick-type universe (ie, killing, the reader thinks about past injuries from fights. training not descriptive). Not smut but suggestive thinking from both Vincent and the reader, mutual pinning, and worldbuilding but no description of the reader. Smoking, a nonsexual cigarette burn on the reader, brief drinking. MAYBE OCs (Fictional staff for the fictional hotel). NO BETA

Summary: The Marquis de Gramont still annoys you. But he needs help from you(r hotel). Like a good manager, you help. 

AN: PART 2 everyone!!! Thank u for the likes/comments/reblogs! This takes place a few months after part 1. IDEK if this is ooc the man had like 30 minutes of screen time overall and I’ve been writing this for a week. I read it a few times for spelling but something got messed up copy and pasting and a para or 2 got dropped. Part 3 will be out ???? soon(ish)

Something about today had his words bouncing around in your head. Out of all the ways to describe someone, he narrowed it down to three (well technically he used six). 

Cautious. Sure, you can see that. Out of a love of being alive, you tried not to take any unnecessary risks in your fighting days. You also tried to avoid having a marker whenever you could. There was one in existence with your blood on it. A favour for someone you thought was a friend. You held up your end, the bloody fingerprint stored in the New York Continental as proof. 

Optimistic. That also makes sense. You actually enjoy what you do, loving being part of the criminal underworld before and now. You haven't been the manager for too long but would already die for this hotel. 

The part that was throwing you was graceful. You didn't think you were that graceful physically. You have scars to prove that you've taken a hit, slash, or burn many times. Did he mean gracefully with people? Camille did so much for the hotel, you just deal with regular hotel things (like getting Monument Historique status for a collection of French weapons, take that, Vincent). The other part was implanting rules from the high table. Maybe just being graceful and polite when you were resisting the urge to claw your eyes out. 

It could also be flirting. You felt he wasn't the type to hit on someone out of the blue. Sure he was smart and confident, but it seemed like too big a risk for him to take. Unless he is just a playboy, which is something you find yourself tempted to google twice a day. 

You would rather die than admit it, but you almost like when he called you Mademoiselle. Almost. It was like a nickname, plus it brought out his accent more. When you found yourself enjoying.

To make things worse Camielle caught on to your crush immediately. While embarrassing, it did show how clever she was and you were glad she was the concierge. Her knowing also gave you an excuse to just tell Vincent your direct number, so Camille would stop reminding you how frequently he called.

You love the bar in the hotel. It is beautiful, decorated in an Art Nouveau style, with large windows allowing for the sun to filter in during the day. You were almost pleased that Vincent asked to meet you there, allowing you to subtly show off your business. 

Finding him at the bar wasn’t hard, no one else was wearing a dark green three-piece suit, complete with a complexly tied tie and their coat of arms pin. He looks good but tense, one long leg crossed over the other. Plus, you could see Chidi and another guard in their gray suits keeping an eye. You were thankful that you took extra time this morning on your outfit. 

You slid into the chair next to him, after shaking a few hands with other big names down in the bar for a late-night drink. 

“I hear you have a problem.” You say, while not knowing the full details, just that he wanted to meet you in the bar and something was wrong. It kicked your heartbeat up, even if you only told yourself it was the stress of him being here. 

“Correct.”. 

“I’m sure you know because of your love of rules, but I can only help those who are using the hotel services.” 

You didn't care that much, and would absolutely bend the rules to do him a favour, but couldn't resist a chance to get a dig in.

The Marquis pulls out two gold coins and slides them across to the bartender. He orders a top-shelf spirit before his eyes cut to you. Now he's buying you a drink in your own hotel. You would want him to buy you a drink in a different situation but at least he didn't order for you. That may cause you to actually kill him.  

Clearing your throat you order your usual, quietly thanking the bartender when the drink was placed in front of you. 

The bar wasn't loud, but he dropped his head towards you so you could hear him better and to give the conversation some privacy. 

“You have a cartographer here, no?”

You nodded. The cartographer is excellent. He had blueprints for buildings past and present, as well as the catacombs. He also had knowledge and keys to abandoned buildings if something had to be desponded and not be found. 

“How soon do you need him?” While one of the best, he was away for his daughter's wedding

“Tonight.” 

You took a small sip of your drink. You could probably get the information he was looking but you wouldn't be as efficient. 

“While we do have a cartographer, he's gone to a family event. If your plans are that urgent I can try my best to fill in.” 

Content with your answers, Vincent leaned back into his seat taking a swig of his drink. You took the finishing sip of yours before pushing out of your chair. 

“I have spare keys in my office. I’ll meet you back here in five.” 

For how commanding and prideful he is, you never expected him to need the services from your hotel.

The maps room was fairly boring. Three out of the four walls were filled with lockboxes to various maps. Blueprints, and documents for France and even some other countries nearby. 

“Are these your beloved catacombs?” The Marquis asks, studying the paper taped to the wall. You asked the map maker for more information and for ideas on what you could do with them. 

You hum in agreement, deep down thrilled that he remembered such a small part of your conversation ages ago. 

Your eyes jump over the numbered lock boxes in front of you, trying to find the one he needs. 

You half expected him to help you pull out maps and building plans, a blend of chivalry, showing off his height, and getting under your skin. He didn’t, letting you struggle with the lock instead. 

Vincent knew he should help you, but the way your back was arched as you tried to open one of the lockboxes out of the dozens was more interesting. His gaze moved over your legs, before looking at your ass in your skirt. 

Feeling the lock give a turn to the side, you peek inside the box to make sure the plans were there. Hand sliding in, you pulled the thin tube out, double-checking the label on the front to make sure it is the one you need. Leaving the box unlocked you turn to face Vincent, a triumphant grin on your face.

Maybe your grin and pride in getting the correct documents were a bit unprofessional but he didn't care. Not since the small room amplified the smell of your perfume and how the spent the better part of the last five minutes checking out your legs. 

Uncapping the tube, you pulled out the blueprints and spread them on the backlist glass table in front of you.

“Here are your prints,” you state awkwardly. You're not sure why he needs them, and why he personally came here. Chidi is keeping guard outside the map room, despite you repeating the hotel policy of no business. 

The Marquis nods in response already focusing on the table. You flatten a small map from the tube in case he needs context on the area. Not likely since he already knows what to look for, proven by his notebook and the constant sound of his pen against the paper taking notes. 

Watching him study the map may have been alright at first, but three hours later you are tired. There are only so many times you can look at his hair and wonder if he would get mad if you run your hands through, or gently tug it. Or what his hands would feel like, especially with his signet ring. 

The grandfather clock tells you that it's only 2:36 am but you feel like it's later. Even Vincent looks slightly less than perfect, hair falling out of place from where he had gelled it that morning.

He is a guest of your hotel so you're going to keep helping him no matter how long he stays. Just with a bit less optimism. 

“Mademoiselle?” Your eyes snap to his face at the sound of his voice, pulling you from your thoughts. 

“You look tired. You should go to bed,” he comments. 

Wow. Thanks, you think. 

“I’m okay. I’m happy to stay here as long as you need,” you say while hoping he leaves soon. “How are the plans going? The cartographer can help you with the finer details when he gets back.” 

“That is not necessary. I have all I need here.” He slowly stretches and starts to stand. You never considered it but being hunched over the table must have been hell on his back given his above-average height. Finally seeing your chance to go to bed, you quickly make it over to the door, opening it for him. 

“Merci, again.” He thanks you as if this is not your job. 

“Do you want me to walk you to the main door?” You have all your floor plans memorized. 

“We are fine.” He replies. 

He looks at you and you can't read his expression. He's less tense, obviously getting what he needed from the plans. 

“The high table did a good job making you the manager.” 

You feel pride swell in your chest, despite the exhaustion you feel behind your eyes. 

“Bonne nuit, Mademoiselle” 

“Bonne nuit. Bon matin.” You quietly wish him as he leaves, wasting no time putting the plans away and locking the map room door. 

You let out another exhaust of bitter smoke, watching it curl away on the cool night air. You didn't start smoking in Paris, but dropped and picked the habit a few times.

“Fumes-tu, Mademoiselle?” a voice behind you makes you flinch. You didn’t tell anyone that you have a secret smoking place, let alone that you went out to smoke. 

You spin around before relaxing at the sight of the Marquis, clad in a dark suit, his signature pin on the lapel reflecting the light. 

You nod, before realizing he probably can't see you well under the lights in the alcove. He is by your side quickly, long legs carrying him the short distance. 

You tip your head to the small table, where your rolling papers, tobacco and other smoking paraphernalia sit in a silent offer. Vincent looks at the table before facing you again. Guess he's too fancy to smoke you assume while taking a drag.

You turn your head to blow out more smoke, careful not to blow it in this direction, a hard feat considering he was extremely close to you. The smell of his cologne drifted under the smell of smoke. 

You move your cigarette down and out to the side, fully ready to see why the Marquis interrupted you. Watching his face, his eyes dipped down to your lips and then back to your eyes almost a silent asking. The smooth and sophisticated era was still there but there was uncertainty under it. 

You slowly leaned closer, not wanting to make the first move, but you want this to happen. He hand-cupped your face, the cool metal of the ring nice as he shifted closer, leaving a small gap for you to make the final push to kiss him. Just a few more inches and then -

Pain. A sharp burning pain on your pinky finger. 

You jerk back, trying to examine what happened. Your cigarette slipped while you were distracted and the glowing embers of the end dropped only to land on your pinky. 

“Shit. Sorry,” you apologize, letting out a nervous huff of a laugh while holding up your burn. The Marquis was unreadable, hand withdrawn. Does he think you rejected him? 

He reaches for your wrist and you let him take it. Slowly he brings your hand up to the outdoor lamp to inspect your burn. The stinging has subsided but you are sure the flesh is a bit swollen. 

With his free hand, he takes the offending cigarette and brings it to his lips. You can't help but stare, cigarette burns long forgotten as you watch him take a deep inhale, before exhaling over your head, so no smoke blows in your face. Part of you regret not making the final push to kiss him, while another hopes he takes another puff. 

Vincent brings your cigarette down to examine it in better lighting before placing it back in your hand, still firmly in his grasp. 

“It is not a well-rolled cigarette. It is too tight.”

There it is you think. The classic Vincent snark. But you secretly hope he rolls one so you can watch his hands and watch him smoke it. 

“You don’t have to smoke it.” 

“I just wanted to give you this.” He reaches into his suitcoat pocket, retrieving a white envelope. His hands brush yours while you grab it. 

You know his handwriting from the time with him in the map room, and you could easily tell he wrote your name on the front. 

“Thank you?” you weren't sure what was inside but you were being all the things he described you as. 

“I will go, and let you read it.” 

You watch him leave, thoughts racing too fast to try and save the situation.

Do you call out after him? Does he think you rejected him? Maybe not because he still gave you the envelope. 

You ash your cigarette before collecting your things and going back to your office. Maybe things would make more sense there.

Taglist: @heartrot666

[siren-sashimi]

Sweet spot HC Scenario; [Marquis Vincent de Gramont x pastry chef!reader]

notes: Based on an anonymous request. They meet before Vincent owns the title of Marquis. Assumed the reader and Vincent speak French with each other.

☞ So here it goes: It's the time shortly before Vincent intrigues himself into the position of the Marquis de Gramont. Still working as practicing assassin, starving for luxury, well and a breakfast after this shit night, he drags himself through the dawn, through the streets of Brussels. There're a few bakeries open, here and there but none look good enough for his taste, nothing hand made, too fatty and sugary ready mades just shoved in the oven. No he looks for something in which the balance of butter so well beaten it's almost creamy white, the flour, taste thick, the caster sugar a compliment to not a compensation for taste. He passes by a more highclass looking establishment, the fancy one with glass windows installed with the intend for the passerby's to see how the baker's are baking fresh bread, sweets, baps, cakes, and anything else human hands are capable to make out of flour. It is the bakery in which you start your formation as pâtissier, as apprentice relegated to cover the (too early) hours. You just tried out your new variant with you're still critical about: A croissant with pistachio-cream-filling. The cream tastes too strongly against the unique yet delicate nut flavour, overpowering instead of transporting the flavour.

☞ Just one minute, a single minute after the shop officially opens a roughed up looking guy stares (good grief, his big eyes and gaunt features make for a unsettling stare) at the displayed goods. Expensive clothing is nothing uncommon in Brussels (after all, not incorrect joke has it that Belgium's population is by half only European parliamentarians) but in this state, you really hope that you don't have to take care of an entitled rich prick at 6.02am... ☞ So far he orders a coffee (one of the pricey Middle Americas blends, two spoons of sugar) and your pistachio croissant variant. In spite of your initial hesitance... you would be curious how the guests like it. ☞ From the corner of your eyes you see him closing his eyes in a relaxed manner after his first sip of the coffee (good), slightly nodding when he bites of the tip of the croissant (good too, a good croissant should be something you can bake in your groggy half sleep), he bites closer to the middle, where the filling is. A crease between his brows (not good). ☞ "Pardon ? Qui l'a fait?" (Excuse me? Who made this?) "C'était moi, monsieur. Comment pourais-je vous aider?" (That was me, Sir. How can I help you?) His face contorts for a bit. "For this price..." he starts, you can smell the trouble from 5 miles ahead "this is not worth it, just mashed together." Quick deep breath. "It is still in development..." "And you offer this to guests?" (Well, you're not Neuhaus here and your chef deemed it good enough for selling.) He stands up, ready to leave, and you notice without paying. "I'm sorry, Monsieur" you intervene quickly "I can offer you anything on the house - as an excuse. Everything else is our regular offer." Speaking these word hurts your own tongue. Prick.

☞ With a quick raise of eyebrows and a shrug he sits back down, orders a chocolatine. Now you feel feisty. You choose darker, almost too bitter chocolate which the butter smoothes down, tames within the dough, while the deep cocoa flavour unfolds to dark bloom, passing the comfortable warmth of the pastry to a dark floral aroma. You'll make him get something to taste for sure. ☞ One bite of his. Eyelids collapsing in delight, chest heaving, nostrils blowing slowly, while his jaw moves slowly. You got him. Somehow his visible satisfaction feels like sweetest revenge. When he pays you can't help shooting him a quick: "This one of mine too." Prick leaves with no reaction*. You're still feeling a bit triumphant.

☞ What have you done wrong? Some mornings he returns, ordering the pricier coffees (always two teaspoons of sugar, preferably brown sugar - damn he has good taste) yet he rotates between different baked goods, tries out different things. You two barely talk. Most often he looks tired, sometimes a bit dishevelled, other times just like he's been up all night (bags under his eyes not helping to make his face look less haunted) although not as bad as he did when he first set foot into the place. Sometimes he comes with bags, probably he travels a lot, always wears good materials. At some point you wonder if he's either a callboy... or maybe a spy? You wouldn't be wondering if many of them shuffled around Brussels too. Maybe you shouldn't read so much Largo Winch before bed time.

☞ Some day, early December, certificate awaiting you within a few months, he walks in again, no hair straying out of place, new coat, even with... could it be? Real fur on the neck hem. "One Jamaica Blue Mountain-" "Two spoons of sugar, Monsieur?" (question out of courtesy) "Certainly. And..." Green eyes narrowing down on you "one pistachio croissant." Somehow this feels like a test... he hadn't ordered this croissant since his first visit. You think, over the time passed, you nailed it, almost pure nut flavour, cream carrying the taste, ideal medium for cream, canvas for the nutty, almost salty flavour. For whatever reason, serving this sleek peacock your croissant wakes excitement in you. Actually, apart from thinking that he too visibly displays wealth, there hadn't been too much to stir your ire against him anymore... Trying to keep yourself from following his reaction, your try to busy yourself, sorting trays, setting timers for the next baking time - kinda difficult to discreetly shoot an observatory glance when this early he's your only costumer. ☞ You heard the last crunch, you can't help but eyeing him. A smile spreads over his lips. It suits him, the way he's so well dressed, the upright posture, legs folded properly, thoughtful look, slight smile. As if he noticed you staring he looks and asks straight through the empty room: "Why are you stuck here in Brussels?" "Pardon?" He gestures around. "That's a very good place, splendid even, I would say but aren't the true masters not in France?" You have to hold back a laugh. Twat. His French is so clearly Français de l'Hexagon, it would be too easy to assume him having reservations. "I've been to France." you reply with a shrug "Paris even. It was okay." "Okay? Isn't it one of THE capitals of fine cuisine?" "Êtes-vous Parisien?" you mock "I'm afraid to say, that yeah, indeed one really learns excellency in Paris, most reputable places but... even here in Brussels you're given room to breathe. Excellency yes yet you're allowed to take time and experience, refine by reflection. By the way both, Paris and Brussels aren't actually what the countries actually are like. Too clean." He leans back, now looking at you, that comfortable smile on his face. "Not, Parisian, no. Not yet. I see you have thoughts on this matter." "Better call it experience. Here I can dabble a bit in chocolatery as well." "Aren't the best chocolatiers in France as well?" (Not wrong but more like among the best…) "The Swiss would heavily argue against it. And guess what, Jean Neuhaus was Swiss, he emigrated to Belgium." ☞ At that he laughed, baring his teeth. Strangely, for a man this tall, with such intense eyes, large teeth, broad hands, pouty lips… it gave something nice to look at. He stands up, walking up to the counter, reaching out his right hand. "Vincent." You shook it and replied in return. Vincent's hands are enrapturing, callused at the fingertips and palm, lukewarm, a bit of cold from the outside weather on the back of his hand can be left when your hands part. "I will miss this place…" he announces, giving everything around him a quick look "Things played out that I won't visit this city for a while. Yet I will miss the quality here. At my working hours it's difficult to find a decent place." Quick hesitance on your part. Judging from his calluses the possibility of a callboy-occupation diminishes. "If you want, I still got some contacts of my senior apprentices, and some from Paris even. They landed mostly good jobs or opened their own shops. I can give your their addresses, if you want to. Tell them you know me, they give you something to try. Also, it's nice to have someone who appreciates our work and isn't taking the next best thing."

Vincent huffs. "If you vouch for your friends' good craft." He takes your notes. Before he leaves he turns around and tells you: "That pistachio croissant…. Finally worth it's price." Jerk.

*In the Netherlands and Belgium people rarely tip since tipping is included in the prices. (And something, something minimum wage even in food service.) For once Vincent isn't entirely a rich jerk

[chiffxna]

A Love Too Dark (05)

The Marquis Vincent de Gramont x Reader

Chapter 05: Dark And Primal

WARNING: THIS IS A DARK FIC.

This story will contain 18+ mature themes, blackmail, forced kissing, dark romance, toxic behaviour, blood, violence, stalking, manipulation, a lot of smut, dubious consent, non-consensual content, non-consensual creampie, breeding, yandere Marquis de Gramont, power play, and power imbalance, obsession, dark Marquis de Gramont, and abuse of power. The list will be added more as the story progresses. Minors, don't read.

Story Masterlist

PREV : Chapter 04

NEXT : Chapter 06

Chapter Summary:

After enduring a little more of the Marquis' lust and receiving the compensation, she finally quit. But will that stop the Marquis de Gramont and his unhealthy fixation on her?

The next morning, Yn awoke as the light of dawn hit her through the curtains. She grimaced before she forced her eyes to open. The first thing she saw was the walls of a bedroom - deep burgundy, richly decorated with accents of golden trim. She glanced to see the bed she was lying on and finally registered in her head that the bed was the largest she had ever seen, with a thick mattress and comforter of the finest down, embroidered in intricate patterns of gold thread. The sheets were made of a delicate silken fabric, soft and inviting against her skin so that she felt like she was in heaven.

She looked down and realized she was naked and under the covers. She shifted and finally felt them - a pair of long arms with bulging veins wrapping around her waist from behind. It was at that moment she finally remembered everything that had transpired last night.

She took a glance over her shoulder and confirmed that last night was not a nightmare. The Marquis de Gramont was asleep and spooning her from behind, his arms wrapped around her waist as if it was a very normal thing to do between them, when in fact, they hardly knew each other.

She carefully lifted his arms off of her and scooted away from him till she sat up on the edge of the bed. The dried semen, juices, and blood between her legs did not go unnoticed by her as she gazed at them with disbelief and slight horror. She then looked to the side, noticing more of these dried liquids smearing the bedsheets visibly.

She frowned, feeling disappointed and repulsed in herself for what happened last night. She felt sick and disgusted for being so weak and not fighting him that well. She believed she was partially at fault for allowing him to violate her.

But, one thing for sure, the Marquis was a demon in disguise, she thought. She was no longer a virgin; she had been corrupted and taken advantage of. She was used by him like a cock-sleeve by a ruthless man. The worst part was she knew that she had enjoyed most of it, orgasmed at least three times, and it disgusted her.

However, she really abhorred that he had come inside her two times and he was so unapologetic about it. He did not even show any bit of remorse too after fucking her into the bed. She thought: Does he not care that he would get her pregnant? With his child? Wouldn't any typical rich man hate it if a commoner like her got pregnant by him?

She shook her head as she began to mull over her situation in her nakedness, disregarding the cold air brushing against her skin. The first solution she could think of was that she would run to the nearest pharmacy or healthcare store and buy the morning-after pill. She had heard that the pill could be effective if one takes it within 24 hours of unprotected sex, but it's not guaranteed.

She signed inwardly. She wished she wouldn't have to undergo this kind of issue. The mistake was having unprotected sex in the first place. No. The first, major mistake was having sex in the first place. But how could she avoid that when he... when the Marquis...

She glowered and shot a hateful glare at the sleeping man behind her before she gathered her wits and stood up, rising from the bed with shaky legs, and felt the carpet beneath her feet and the sheer impression of softness against the soles of her feet. The floor was of the finest polished wood and she felt like she was in a fine palace. She was naked and alone in an unknown place with a man she barely knew.

Moving her legs cause her to feel more of the dried juices in between her legs and she felt revolted yet again. She couldn't bear to put on her underwear and dress without washing them off, so she made the decision to look for the bathroom first.

Glancing around the bedroom, she searched for a door or pathway that might lead to the Marquis' personal bathroom. There's no way this room wasn't attached to its own bathroom, she thought.

She perceived a door other than the main door of his bedroom to the hallway. Inside the bathroom was a luxurious sight to look at. Cream walls and marble flooring shone in the light shining from the beautiful chandelier above. The jacuzzi was a deep, inviting pool of clear blue water. Besides that, there was a wide clear space with a modern ceiling shower attached above. There was a large, plush vanity with a full-length mirror, and counters lined with expensive toiletries. The room was filled with everything one would need for a home spa experience.

She was mesmerized by everything inside it until she felt yet again the dried semen dribbling from her sore pussy. She immediately grabbed several tissues and sat on the wall-hung toilet. After peeing, she used the water hose beside it to wash off the dried liquid between her inner thighs.

"Ugh!" she grunted as the cold water touched her sensitive skin. She winced and let it flow, washing the residue of the Marquis' ejaculation away.

Her fingers were delicate as they rubbed her private area with light, quick motions, cleaning the sore spot. She whimpered quietly while her hands cleaned her most private area, trying to forget what happened.

The water turned a pinkish hue as the cleansing water swirled around the toilet bowl. She cleaned herself up thoroughly, but there was only so much she could do when she could feel that some of them were still inside her pussy. She thought: She has to take a thorough shower if she wants to clean up as much semen as she could from inside her pussy.

But no. She could not take a shower in the home of the man who had taken her forcefully - who had to threaten her to get what he wanted. She knew in an instant that she had to get out of this place immediately and if possible, leave without waking up the Marquis.

She had just flushed the toilet when a familiar voice, thick with a French accent, enacted behind her, "Good morning."

She shrieked, swiftly turning around, covering her breasts with her arms and pinching her thighs together in an attempt to obscure her full nudity from the Frenchman. She felt her heart beat faster and faster in her chest, making her feel so vulnerable, as she stared up at the tall Marquis.

He stood tall and imposing in the doorway, blocking her escape. His body was accentuated by his toned arms which were folded over his bare chest. His dark eyes were smug and arrogant, as he looked down at her with a smirk. He appeared to be enjoying the heightened tension in the room, relishing in the power he held over her.

Yn then scowled at him which plainly showed she was angry and disgusted by him before she headed straight for the sink to wash her hands. She remained in silence, not giving him any response to his greeting. Now that he had awoken, she decided to just get out of the mansion with her promised 50 thousand dollars.

"I take it you slept well?" he asked, his voice telling her he still had that smug smile on his face.

He did not show an ounce of remorse for what he did to her and that made her feel even more angry and disgusted. She splashed some cold water on her face, trying to freshen up her face, when the Marquis spoke up, "Why are you in such a rush? We have all the time-"

Yn whirled around sharply to look him in the eye - despite the intimidating height difference between them - and said with a firm tone, "I'm going home. I have done my part and the deal is settled. Now give me my 50k."

The Marquis let out a brief laugh as though it was amusing to watch her like that. He replied, "Don't be hasty, ma lapine. I've asked my chef to prepare breakfast for us."

Yn's eyes blew wide, knowing this was his tactic to get what he wanted. She almost instantly answered back, "I'm not hungry. I am leaving now!"

She stormed towards him, intending to brush past him and exit his lavish bathroom. However, just as she was about to reach him, one of his hands suddenly rose to flick a switch on the wall next to the door.

In an instant, the ceiling shower inside a wide empty space inside the bathroom turned on. Yn halted in her tracks and glanced at it while the Frenchman stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Once she cast her eyes back on him, he pointed towards the shower and said, "We can't let you go home in that state."

"I'm not staying any longer," stated Yn with a firm voice, slowly feeling agitated that he did not listen to her or at least give an effort to understand her.

The Marquis slowly stepped closer, his dark eyes never leaving hers as he said, "I was not asking."

Suddenly, he grasped her arm and yanked her with him towards the running shower. Yn immediately struggled against his grip but her feet ended up skidding across the floor as the Marquis never relent or at least loosen his hold on her.

Meanwhile, Sydney had woken up as usual and came out of her bedroom to search for what she always looked for first thing in every morning - her big stepsister, Yn. However, after scouring the living room and the kitchen of their dingy apartment, she gloomily dragged her legs towards the couch in the living room where Barbara was sound asleep.

"Wake up! Wake up!" the little girl cried out.

Even Rosie, their cat, had come into the scene and meowed at the babysitter. Sydney continued wailing at the babysitter, hoping she would wake up any moment now. She was in too much of a dreary mood, especially after she found out that her sweet, big stepsister still had not yet returned.

Soon enough, Barbara slowly stirred awake and drearily opened her eyes. After seeing the small child leaning over her, she let out a small yawn and drawled, "Is Yn back already?"

"No!" the little girl cried out. "She's still not here!"

Barbara searched for her smartphone which happened to be pressed into the couch beneath her bum. She unlocked the phone and noticed that Yn still had not replied to any of her messages. That got Barbara concerned about her cousin, yet she still remained calm since she did see Yn going out in a pretty dress.

Barbara told her, "She's gonna be fine, Syd. Do you have school today?"

Sydney nodded, "Yeah."

Barbara glanced at the time in her gadget and asked, "What time does the school start?"

"Eight-thirty."

In Barbara's phone, the time was 8:15 in the morning.

Barbara suddenly shot up from the couch and began to blabber about the little girl being late for school and whatnot. She sent Sydney to the shower and began to muse. She knew she couldn't prepare breakfast in time for her so she decided that they could buy some sandwiches on their way to school.

Meanwhile, back to Yn...

Obscene noises of moans, groans, and wet slapping of skin against skin erupted from the bathroom of the Marquis de Gramont. The man was having his way with Yn in the shower, fucking her deep and rough under the endless shower, uncaring that he had forced himself on her. He smirked as he towered over her. His powerful arms held her legs in the air, wrapping them around his waist and pushing her against the shower wall with his body.

Yn felt helpless as she was held in the air and pinned to the wall. Her heart raced, her breathing coming out in short, shallow gasps. Despite her mind screaming for her to get away, her body could not escape from the insatiable lust of the Marquis. The man had her wrapped in a tight grip that seemed impossible to break free from. She felt powerless and trapped between the wall and the beast that was possessing her body for his own pleasure.

The Marquis seemed to take pleasure in seeing the fear in her eyes and he continued to thrust into her harder and faster with each passing second. She whimpered in pain and pleasure as she started to push her hands against his chest, signaling him to stop. The man seemed relentless as he kept pushing himself onto Yn's body, forcing himself deeper and deeper into her until she felt like she would break apart any moment soon.

The pleasure she had initially felt was quickly replaced by aching exhaustion from being constantly pounded against the wall by his cock like she was a mere fucktoy to him. Tears stung at her eyes but she refused to let them fall - she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing how broken she was feeling at this moment.

Their skin and hair were utterly drenched under the running ceiling shower. The steamy water from the shower continued to cascade on their bodies, the heat radiating off of them as the Frenchman held her to his liking. Yn's body ached and her strength seemed to have left her; making her lay there and let the man take his pleasure from her. But then he suddenly stopped, and Yn felt relieved that it had all ended - until he started to grope her body, exploring every inch of her skin with a possessive caress.

She tried to push his hands away, but he held her tight against him. His hands wandered around her curves as if mapping out his property and claiming it for himself. She gasped at the sensation, feeling completely violated at this moment.

But then he started to kiss her. His lips were rough and demanding against hers, his tongue exploring every corner of her mouth with a passionate intensity that demanded a response from her own body.

And before she knew it, he pressed her firmer into the wall, ramming balls deep, as he climaxed inside her under the shower head. Skin against skin, their slick bodies, and bare nipples slid together as he explored her with open mouths and yearning hands. She could feel his warm seed filling her womb in large spurts. Every touch seemed like a possessive caress as the man held Yn close to him while his hands held her ass to keep her upright against the wall.

Two minutes had passed and he tenderly let go of her, letting her stand on her feet before he withdrew. Yn felt her legs turn to jelly and she slowly collapsed onto the floor, completely spent and used. Embarrassment crept up on her as she scrambled to cover herself with her arms, desperate not to be left exposed in this state of shame despite how he had just used her like a fucktoy.

"My apologies, ma lapine. I could not resist," the Marquis spoke up, the apology seemed sarcastic and mocking. It was crystal clear that he was not feeling remorseful at all for keeping her in the shower and taking advantage of her. He added, "We have to take the shower again and get ready for breakfast."

Yn wanted to protest. She wanted to shout at him, hit him, or yell at him. But the strength she had felt during the forced intercourse upon her was gone and she felt too tired to even form a coherent thought anymore. Her body was sore in places. Her skin felt tender from the way he had used her. Her mind was still flooded with thoughts of disgust and humiliation.

The Marquis ended up lifting her from the floor by the arm and washed her body with bubbly soap willingly. It's as if they were both a married couple. He even took care of her hair with what appeared to be a unisex shampoo.

When it came to drying themselves off, Yn did it herself and was quick to dress up, wanting to obscure her nudity from his eyes as soon as possible, fearing that he would get aroused and force himself on her again.

The Marquis de Gramont appeared to be completely unaffected by their earlier activities. He showed her a smile - one of satisfaction and confidence - and looked entirely composed and ready for the day while he sat across from Yn at the dining table.

On the table was a variety of fine French breakfast dishes. There were croissants, jams, jellies, and other sweet treats to start the day off. There were also savory dishes like omelets, bacon, sausage, and ham. An array of fruits was laid out in a colorful fashion to bring color to the table. There was a variety of freshly brewed coffee and tea, with cream and sugar to get the day started. Everything looked warm and inviting, and there was an air of elegance in the way it was all laid out.

Yn ate with no appetite, but she forced herself to eat as she needed the energy to start her day. Her mind raced with questions and confusion. She had been promised $50,000 by the Marquis de Gramont, but the events that had unfolded in the past few minutes made her doubt his sincerity. He had the tendency to do whatever he wanted regardless of the other person's consent. She feared he would do the same to the deal they made and break it.

Gathering her courage, she mustered the strength to break the uncomfortable silence. Her voice trembled slightly as she asked, "Umm, sir... you had promised me 50k dollars. What about that?"

The Marquis paused for a moment, his gaze fixed on Yn, his expression unreadable. Then, he leaned back in his chair, a smug smile playing on his lips.

"Ah," he replied, his voice dripping with arrogance, "Do not worry. I am a man of my word. You will receive your payment, as promised."

He suddenly raised one hand into the air and flicked his fingers with one loud snap. Chidi came into the scene and approached Yn. He stood beside her and placed a thick envelope on the table. As if to ensure it was not another scheme of his, Yn grabbed it and checked the content.

$50,000 was indeed inside the envelope. She inwardly exhaled a long breath of relief. When she looked up at the Marquis de Gramont, he was smiling as if he was amused at how distrustful she was about him.

"Had you given in without resistance, I would have given you double the amount," he said, smugly.

"What?" Yn blurted out, shocked beyond belief and incredulous.

"I'm joking," the Marquis said while chuckling at his own joke.

"But why?" Yn asked, her voice quivering with a mix of anger and vulnerability. "Why did you do that to me? Why do you seem so... focused on me... when there are other girls who would do anything to entertain you?"

The Marquis' face lit up with amusement and admiration, his eyes twinkling as he studied Yn, his lips curling into a mischievous smile.

"Yn," his smirk widened as he spoke her name as if relishing in her vulnerability, "There are things about you that have captured my attention. There is a certain quality, an essence, that sets you apart from the others."

Yn's brows furrowed in both curiosity and suspicion. She couldn't comprehend what the Marquis found so compelling about her, especially when there were countless other women who would love to have his attention, like Sabrina from the casino, for example. Yn was certain that the Marquis also knew of Sabrina's lust for him, but he seemed to disregard her or did not reciprocate it.

Nevertheless, Yn chose to ignore the Marquis' mysterious fascination with her. With this 50 thousand dollars of cash in her hand, she could finally quit the casino for good. But first, she had to do a couple more things to make sure she was good to quit.

Eager to start her day, Yn stared the Marquis directly in the eye and stated, "I have to go. I really should be leaving now."

The Marquis stared at her a while longer with an unreadable look on his face. His eyes still held that glinting fascination for her. It's like he was cherishing the picture he was viewing before it was gone. Yn was donning her previous, same dress. She was insistent on wearing it again despite his offer to wear something else she could find from his wardrobe.

"Of course," he finally spoke with a half-smile, "I am sure you have much to do. My best bodyguard, Chidi, will send you home in my limousine."

Yn got up from the table slowly, her eyes still fixated on the Marquis de Gramont as if expecting he was this insatiable beast that would pounce on her over the table again. But he simply smiled and stood up in a relaxed manner. He began to lead her to the entrance of the mansion and told her, "I wish I could take you back home myself, but I have a duty that needs my attention elsewhere."

The both of them followed Chidi out of the mansion where numerous bodyguards lined up from the main door to the limousine parked by the road. Yn stepped out of the mansion, feeling a mixture of relief and apprehension. She had just received the promised cash from the Marquis, and yet, she still couldn't help but feel a bit wary of him. He had this aura about him that made her feel like he could twist every word to get what he desired.

Yn took slow breaths, hoping to control her racing heart as she passed each guard. Once they reached the car, Chidi opened the door for her. She was about to sit down inside it when the Marquis halted her by speaking up, "We will see each other again at the casino, Yn. Perhaps tonight."

His voice was smooth and filled with a certain promise that made her heart squeeze. She looked up to meet his gaze and felt her skin erupt with goosebumps as she saw the intensity in his eyes.

"Until then," he said before he stepped closer to her.

That was when he leaned his head closer to hers. Yn's eyes blew wide as she perceived that he was intending to kiss her on the lips. She swiftly turned her head to the side, causing him to brush his lips against her cheek.

Yn quickly spun around and practically jumped into the limousine, eager to escape from the Marquis' presence. She took a shy peek at the man and noticed that he was pursing his lips, his right eye twitched in silent anger, as he kept his silent yet fiery gaze on her figure inside the vehicle.

Chidi glanced at his master, still holding the door open. With his eyes locked on her, the French aristocrat nodded to his loyal bodyguard. Chidi then shut the door to the limousine before he walked to the driver's seat, sat inside, and started up the engine. Yn looked away in slight fear and cast her eyes to her hands which were gripping the envelope of cash.

The limousine finally drove away from the mansion. It moved slowly through the streets, past tall buildings and busy roads until it reached the city. It was then Chidi first spoke to her, "Where is your home, miss?"

Yn hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much she could trust Chidi. She didn't want to reveal the location of her humble apartment, as she valued her privacy and safety. The casino seemed like a safer option, a familiar place where she could go home from there.

"I would prefer to be dropped off at the casino, please," Yn replied, her voice steady but cautious.

Chidi's brows furrowed as he glanced at her through the rearview mirror. He seemed torn between following her request and fulfilling his duty to ensure her safety.

"Miss, it would be best I drop you off at your home," Chidi insisted, his tone gentle yet firm. "It is my duty to see that you arrive safely."

Yn's heart raced as she weighed her options. She didn't want Chidi to know where she lived, but she also didn't want to raise any further suspicions. Finally, she decided to lie.

"Okay," Yn relented, forcing a nervous smile. "Drop me off at the Silver Crest Apartments."

Chidi nodded, accepting her answer. He adjusted his course, maneuvering through the city streets toward the designated area. Yn stared out the window, her mind racing with both relief and anxiety. She hoped her lie would be enough to protect her privacy.

As the limousine pulled up near the apartment complex, Yn thanked Chidi and stepped out of the vehicle. She watched as the car slowly and hesitantly drove away. It's like Chidi wanted to watch if the apartment was really her home. Her eyes lingered on its retreating form until it disappeared from sight, finally making her feel safe and away from any trace of the Marquis de Gramont.

However, she was not at peace yet. She glanced at every direction in the crowded city before she began to rush off to her next destination - the pharmacy.

Yn's heart raced as she stepped into the nearest pharmacy, her mind still reeling from the fact that the Marquis had come inside her many times and that her getting pregnant was possible. She approached the counter, her eyes scanning the aisles for the packaging of morning-after pills.

The pharmacist, a kind-faced woman with a warm smile, greeted Yn and asked if she needed any assistance. Yn mustered a shaky smile and requested the morning-after pills, trying her best to appear calm despite the turbulent emotions churning within her.

The pharmacist nodded understandingly and retrieved the requested pills from behind the counter. As she handed them to Yn, her gaze turned sympathetic.

"Would you also like to consider using birth control pills?" the pharmacist gently inquired. "They can offer additional protection and peace of mind."

Yn hesitated, her mind filled with conflicting thoughts. She had never considered using birth control before, but the recent events had left her feeling vulnerable and unsure of what the future might hold. After a moment of contemplation, she nodded and decided to take the pharmacist's advice.

"Yes, please," Yn replied softly. "I'll take a pack of birth control pills as well."

The pharmacist smiled warmly, appreciating Yn's decision. She retrieved a pack of birth control pills and placed it alongside the morning-after pills on the counter. Yn paid for the items, the weight of the situation becoming all too real as she watched the cashier process her purchase.

Leaving the pharmacy with the pills safely stowed in her bag, Yn felt a mix of relief and uncertainty. She knew that taking precautions was essential, given the circumstances she had found herself in. However, the decision to use birth control also served as a stark reminder of the control the Marquis had exerted over her body.

Determined to regain her agency, Yn walked briskly through the city streets, her mind focused on her next steps. She needed to find a safe place to regroup, gather her thoughts, and chart her path forward. And that was home. Her apartment.

She quickened her pace, navigating the busy sidewalks with ease, her thoughts consumed with the events of the past few days. Despite her best efforts, she couldn't shake the memory of the Marquis's touch, the feeling of his hands on her skin, the way he made her... feel disgusted with her own body.

By boarding a bus, she arrived at her apartment as soon as she could. Once she entered her humble abode, she almost ran head-on into Barbara, her cousin. Both of them were astounded to see one another that they almost yelled.

"Barbara!" Yn said in surprise.

"Yn!" shouted Barbara, "Where were you, girl?! I called you many times! Spammed you with messages too! You didn't reply at all! I know you're getting dick but at least answer!"

Yn's brain almost shut down because of what her cousin said. She was flabbergasted that she asked in subtle disgust, "What?"

A naughty grin curved Barbara's lips and she said, "I saw you in your pretty dress yesterday. You had dinner with some guy, right? And then you got laid with him. Had some mind-blowing sex that you couldn't even answer your phone."

Yn began, "No, it was just-"

"And you came back with the same dress as yesterday!" Barbara pointed out, "You need to tell me the truth, sis! At least don't get me and Sydney worried!"

Upon hearing the little girl's name, Yn remembered instantly where she was supposed to be and she inquired instantly, "Sydney! Where is she?! Is she at school?!"

"Yes! I sent her and just came back here!" stated Barbara, "And don't change the subject, Yn! I want to know the guy you're hooking up with! Is he rich?! Oh wait, first of all, did you use protection?"

Again, she was reminded of another thing that she had to take care of immediately. With her hands holding the plastic of pills, she zoomed toward the bathroom. Barbara also followed her.

As Yn reached the bathroom, she closed the door behind them and leaned against the sink, her hands trembling. Barbara's concerned gaze met hers, and she immediately noticed the package of morning-after pills in Yn's hands.

Barbara approached her cousin, her expression filled with empathy. She gently reached out and took the package of pills, her eyes scanning the instructions printed on it.

"These are morning-after pills," Barbara explained softly. "They are most effective when taken as soon as possible after unprotected intercourse, preferably within 24 hours. Let's make sure we follow the instructions correctly."

Yn nodded, grateful for Barbara's support. She watched as her cousin carefully read the instructions, absorbing the information. After a moment, Barbara looked up, her voice steady and reassuring.

Barbara guided her the entire time, giving her instructions on consuming these emergency pills since she had experiences in this before. She continued, "Remember, these pills are intended for emergency use only. They are not meant to be used as a regular form of contraception. If you have any concerns, you should consult a healthcare professional."

Yn nodded, grateful for Barbara's guidance and the accurate information she provided. Together, they carefully followed the instructions, ensuring that Yn took the pills correctly.

After taking the morning-after pills, Yn felt a sense of relief wash over her. She knew that she had taken the necessary steps to protect herself and minimize the risk of an unplanned pregnancy.

Barbara stood by her side, offering a comforting presence. "You did the right thing, Yn. If you have any questions about this, just ask me. I'm here for you."

Yn's eyes filled with tears, gratitude shining through. "Thank you, Barbara. I don't know what I would do without you."

Barbara smiled, noticing how this issue was big for her cousin. She asked her, "Did you get birth control pills? We might as well take care of that too."

Yn nodded swiftly, "Yeah. Could you guide me on that too?"

"Oh, Yn, what kind of sex-positive cousin would I be if I don't help you with that," said Barbara before she guided her on the birth control pills as well.

After several minutes of discussion, Barbara was confident that Yn understood the proper dosage and frequency of taking the pills, as well as the risks of using them. After taking a deep breath and opening the pack of birth control pills, Yn carefully removed one pill and held it in her hand, her fingers trembling slightly. With Barbara by her side, she swallowed the pill and then took a sip of water to help it go down.

Once everything was done, Barbara couldn't help but lightly reprimand her, "But seriously, Yn. You had sex without protection? That is so risky."

Yn sighed. She did not want to tell Barbara that she got threatened with having sex with a man who turned out to be so influential in a foreign country - the Marquis de Gramont. In other words, he forced himself on her. She didn't want to tell anyone about that. What matters most was that she prevented a pregnancy, got a lot of compensation in return, and that she could finally handle the matter with her mother's medical bills.

Yn took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to respond to Barbara's question. She knew she couldn't share the full details of what had transpired with the Marquis, but she also didn't want to lie to her cousin.

"I made a mistake, Bar," Yn admitted, her voice tinged with regret. "I found myself in a situation where I... couldn't think clearly. Now, I just want to forget it."

Barbara's expression softened as she listened, understanding that there was more to the story than Yn could reveal. She reached out and squeezed her cousin's hand, offering her support and reassurance.

"I'm here for you, Yn," Barbara said gently. "I won't pry. Just know that you have me, okay?"

Yn smiled in gratitude as she looked at her cousin. Despite not knowing the full extent of what had happened, Barbara's unconditional support meant the world to her. It reminded her that she didn't have to face this alone.

Nodding her head to her, Yn told, "Thank you so much. And for everything. You helped me a lot with babysitting Sydney."

Barbara smiled back and replied, "She is such a joy to handle. Will you be working again tonight?"

Yn started to contemplate her options, realizing that with the substantial compensation she had received, she no longer needed to continue working at the casino. She could finally fulfill her responsibilities towards her mother's medical bills and provide a stable life for Sydney without having to rely on late-night shifts.

She turned to Barbara with a bright expression, eager to share her decision with her cousin, and said, "No. I won't be working tonight."

Barbara's eyes widened in surprise, a mix of concern and relief crossing her face. "Really? You've been working so hard to support Mom and Sydney. If it's about Sydney, don't worry! I can take care of her again tonight!"

Yn smiled wider and shook her head saying, "There's no need. I'm going to rest up tonight and spend more time with Sydney. But thank you for taking care of her all these times, Bar. I truly appreciate it."

Barbara's eyes lit up with understanding and a hint of relief. "That's great, Yn! You deserve some time to heal, and I'm sure Sydney will be thrilled to spend more quality time with you. Just let me know if you ever need my help again, okay?"

Yn hugged her cousin tightly, feeling a surge of gratitude for the support Barbara had provided. "Thank you, Bar. I'll definitely keep that in mind. Take care, and I'll see you soon."

After bidding her cousin goodbye, Yn took a moment to collect herself. She knew she had made the right decision to prioritize her well-being and her family. With renewed determination, she showered, got ready, and prepared to face the day ahead.

As she stepped out of her apartment, a sense of purpose guided her steps. She went to the nearest ATM to withdraw cash. Once she took enough money, she hailed a taxi and directed the driver to take her straight to the hospital. Today was the day she would finally pay off her mother's medical bills and ease the burden that had weighed on her shoulders for so long.

Upon arriving at the hospital, Yn approached the billing department with the envelope containing the funds she had saved up and also some funds she got as compensation from the Marquis. She felt a mixture of nervousness and anticipation, but above all, a bright hope.

"It's done!"

Before she knew it, the nurse from behind the counter was already grinning at her, placing documents and a small piece of paper on the table and sliding it towards Yn. The nurse started, "The payment is complete! Here are the documents for your record and this is your receipt, Miss!"

Yn stared wide-eyed at the documents before her, especially the receipt which plainly showed that the huge amount of money she had collected was accepted and was exchanged back to her in that tiny piece of paper. She couldn't help but ask the nurse again, "Then, my mom, will she...?"

Yn's heart raced as she eagerly awaited the nurse's response. The weight of her mother's condition and the hope of a possible treatment hung in the air. The nurse looked at Yn with a warm smile, understanding the significance of this moment for her.

"The payment has been received, Miss," the nurse said kindly. "We will now proceed with assessing your mother's current condition and determining the next steps. The doctor will evaluate her and determine if she is fit enough to undergo the surgery soon enough."

Relief flooded over Yn, mixed with a surge of nervous anticipation. She knew that the outcome was still uncertain, but the fact that she had fulfilled her part by paying the medical bills gave her a glimmer of hope.

The nurse continued, "We will need to conduct a thorough examination and perform some tests to assess your mother's overall health and suitability for the surgery. This will include checking her vital signs, reviewing her medical history, and possibly conducting diagnostic tests. Don't worry, miss. We will handle everything from now on."

Yn nodded, her emotions intertwined with anxiety and optimism. She understood that there were still challenges ahead, but having taken this crucial step and having taken off a huge burden of expensive medical treatment, she felt delighted and hopeful. She felt like she was on cloud nine.

"I hope everything goes well," Yn whispered, her voice filled with both gratitude and trepidation.

The nurse offered her a reassuring smile. "We will do our best, Miss. Our medical team is experienced and dedicated to providing the best care possible. For now, you may visit your mother while I notify the staff about the next step."

Yn nodded gratefully, appreciating the nurse's kind words and guidance. With a mix of nervous excitement and relief, she made her way to her mother's room. As she entered, her eyes fell upon her mother lying in the hospital bed, frail and weak. She was quick to notice her daughter and she greeted her with a weak smile, "Yn, my heart. You are here."

Yn approached her with a gentle touch, a mixture of love and concern evident in her expression. After taking a chair and sitting down next to the bed and holding her mother's hand, Yn stared at her with a loving yet relieved smile. Her mother was bewildered by the look she gave her, but she did not have to express her question because her daughter finally told her:

"Mom," Yn whispered, her voice filled with tenderness. "I did it. I took care of the medical bills."

Her mother's eyes widened and a glimmer of hope flickered within them. It was then Yn noticed her energy rising back up as her mother began to sit up in the bed. Yn helped her, and once done, the older lady gawked at her with astonishment and elation. She was silent for a while as if she half-expected Yn to say it was a joke. But Yn kept smiling at her assuredly.

To Yn's surprise, tears brimmed her mother's eyes as she asked with a shaky voice, "Really?"

"Yes, really," Yn's smile became brighter and more confident. Her mother was now filled with excitement, her frail body shaking as she spread her arms toward her daughter. Yn knew what she wanted and instantly came forward, going into her mother's open arms and embracing her.

Her mother patted her as she squeezed her tighter lovingly. "You did it, Yn. I couldn't be more proud of you. Thank you. Thank you so much!"

Yn's eyes filled with tears as she held her mother tightly, feeling an overwhelming surge of love and relief. The weight of their struggles seemed to lift momentarily, replaced by a profound sense of accomplishment. She had completely let go of how some of the money she collected was actually compensation she got in exchange for her body to the Marquis. No. She did not have to worry about him now.

"Be strong now, mom," Yn whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "I did it so that you could receive the care you deserve."

They pulled back and her mother nodded, her eyes still brimming with tears as she tried her hardest to not make them spill. She answered, "I will. What you did for me will not be wasted."

Her mother's hands cupped Yn's face as she looked into her eyes with unwavering love. Tears streamed down Yn's face as the mother asked, "Does Sydney know? She must be at school now, right?"

Yn shook her head and replied, "No. And yes, she's at school."

Her mother nodded with a warm smile and said, "Then I want to surprise her. By coming back home."

Yn's heart swelled with joy at her mother's words. The idea of surprising Sydney with their mother's return filled her with an immense sense of anticipation and happiness. A radiant smile spread across Yn's face as she imagined the sheer delight that would wash over Sydney when she saw her beloved mother waiting for her at home.

Laughter bubbled forth from both Yn and her mother, mingling with tears of relief and love. Their laughter danced through the hospital room, carrying with it a resounding symphony of triumph and gratitude.

Yn's heart swelled with determination as she focused on the future and the steps she needed to take to create a better life for herself and her family. She pushed aside the memories of her encounter with the Marquis de Gramont, choosing not to let it define her anymore. The compensation she had received, tainted though it may be, had served its purpose in securing her mother's medical treatment.

Now, with the medical bills paid and her responsibilities fulfilled, Yn knew it was time to move on from the casino job. She had endured enough. She did not have to see the Marquis again and it was time to prioritize her own well-being and seek a new path.

As she made her way back home from the hospital, a surge of determination coursed through her veins. Yn's mind raced with thoughts of her resignation letter. She knew it was necessary to formalize her decision and bring closure to that chapter of her life.

Upon arriving at her apartment, she wasted no time. Yn settled herself at her small desk, grabbed a pen and a fresh sheet of paper, and began to write. With each stroke of the pen, her words carried a sense of conviction and liberation.

In her resignation letter, Yn expressed her gratitude for the opportunity to work at the casino and the experiences she had gained. However, she firmly stated her decision to resign, citing personal reasons and the desire to pursue new avenues in her life. She kept the letter professional and concise, yet it resonated with her determination to reclaim her agency and forge a brighter future.

After carefully reviewing and signing the letter, Yn sealed it in an envelope. As she held the envelope in her hands, a weight lifted from her shoulders. Now she had to take care of another matter - How to send this letter without going to the casino?

The next thing she knew, she found herself standing before an unfamiliar door. After knocking, the door was soon opened from the inside and revealed Emily, her close friend from the casino. Emily was not as shocked to see since she had expected her. Yn had told her through texts that she would come by.

"Yn!" Emily smiled brightly and she immediately opened the door wider, "Come in! Your text surprised me!"

Yn returned Emily's smile gratefully, stepping inside the welcoming embrace of her friend's apartment. The air was filled with a sense of familiarity and warmth, a stark contrast to the high-energy atmosphere of the casino they had worked in together.

"Thank you, Em," Yn said, her voice laced with gratitude. "Sorry for surprising you like this."

Emily shut the door and replied, "Hey, it's okay. I'm actually excited to have you here. You've never been to my apartment, right?"

Yn chuckled, "No, I haven't."

"And I haven't been to yours," added Emily with a grin as she disappeared into the kitchen.

As Yn settled into a comfortable chair, Emily offered her a hot cup of tea. Yn accepted it gratefully, holding the warm cup in her hands and savoring the soothing aroma. She took a moment to compose herself before sharing her decision with Emily.

"I've been thinking, Em. I'm quitting my job at the casino," Yn stated firmly, her eyes filled with determination. "I've collected enough money for my mother's medical treatment."

Emily's eyes widened in surprise, but then her face lit up with admiration. "Yn, that's incredible! You did it! I'm so happy for you and your mom!"

Yn's smile grew wider as she felt the support and encouragement radiating from her friend. It was moments like these that affirmed her decision to leave the casino behind and embrace a new chapter in her life.

"I've written my resignation letter," Yn continued, reaching into her bag and retrieving the sealed envelope. "But I don't want to set foot in the casino again. Do you think you could help me deliver it to Mr. Malone?"

Emily's eyes sparkled with excitement as she enthusiastically took the envelope from Yn's hand. "Absolutely! Consider it done. I'll make sure it reaches his hand only, and you won't have to worry about a thing."

Relief washed over Yn as she entrusted her resignation letter to Emily. She knew that her friend would handle the situation with professionalism and discretion. With this weight off her shoulders, Yn felt like she was truly free. She felt her shoulders become much lighter.

"Thank you, Emily," Yn said, her voice filled with appreciation. "I will definitely miss you."

Emily smiled warmly, placing a hand on Yn's shoulder. "I'm so happy you got to quit the casino, Yn. And remember, even if you're not my colleague anymore, we're still friends, okay? Just text me whenever you want. Come over too!"

Yn chuckled lightheartedly and nodded, grinning at her close friend whom she could trust. Suddenly, Emily's smile dropped and she asked, "Oh, Yn, what about the Marquis?"

Yn's smile faded slightly as Emily mentioned the Marquis. She took a deep breath, her gaze focused as she considered her response.

"I don't want to dwell on him anymore, Em," Yn replied, her voice filled with determination. "I've made the decision to leave the casino, and with that, I believe I won't have to see him again."

"But..." Emily started, "I don't know. It seems like he likes you. By the way, I know."

Yn raised an eyebrow and quizzed, "Know what?"

Emily stared at her pointedly and revealed, "I know you went on a dinner date with him last night."

Yn did not respond as she turned her head to the side and mulled over. Emily continued, "Amelia told me. She told me, Sophia, and Emma. That the Marquis took you out after Amy tried to apologize to him. Something about you taking the consequences on her behalf. When Amy said you were all dressed up, we figured it was a date."

Yn's heart sank as Emily revealed that she knew about the dinner date with the Marquis. She felt a mixture of frustration and vulnerability, not wanting to disclose the truth about what had transpired between her and the Marquis.

"Yeah, a date... umm..." Yn was clearly feeling uncomfortable talking about the Marquis, and Emily noticed that. Yn added, "He did ask me like that. A dinner date with him and he would not fire Amy. That's all."

Emily observed the unease in Yn's voice and expression, realizing that there was more to the story than she initially thought. Sensing her friend's discomfort, Emily decided to tread carefully and respect Yn's boundaries.

"Hey," Emily replied gently. "You don't have to say more if you don't want to. I'm here for you, no matter what."

Yn's eyes met Emily's, filled with gratitude for her understanding. She took a deep breath, feeling a sense of relief that Emily wasn't pressing for further details.

"Thank you, Em," Yn said, her voice tinged with vulnerability and appreciation.

"Yn!"

Yn turned around, disregarding the little kids dawdling around her, as she looked at the entrance of the preschool. There she saw Sydney skipping towards her with eagerness, her radiant grin was so infectious it caused Yn to smile widely as well.

Once Sydney reached her, the former effused, "Yn! You're here!"

"I'm here, Syd," Yn spoke up as she held out a hand for the girl, "Let's go home."

On the way to their apartment, Sydney - just as Yn expected - asked her, "Where were you this morning? I was scared you got taken by bad guys, sissy."

"Aw, Sydney," Yn lied, "I'm so sorry! I had too much fun with my friends last night and I fell asleep at their house."

"Oh," Sydney looked up at her with her wide, doe eyes of innocence, "Okay!"

That was all her young stepsister could say before she started chattering about what she had learned from preschool. Soon enough, they arrived in their apartment. Yn prepared a delicious lunch for herself and Sydney, their shared laughter filling the cozy apartment. The aroma of home-cooked food wafted through the air, creating an atmosphere of warmth and comfort. Yn couldn't help but feel a deep sense of fulfillment as she watched Sydney's eyes light up with excitement.

As they sat down at the table, Yn served the food and they began to enjoy their meal together. Sydney's animated storytelling and Yn's attentive listening created a bond that transcended the mundane, filling their small apartment with an undeniable sense of joy and love.

In the midst of their conversation, Sydney paused for a moment and looked at Yn with hopeful eyes. "Sissy, can we buy a new Barbie movie today? I'm tired of watching the same one all the time."

Yn smiled affectionately at her stepsister and replied, "Of course! We can buy a new Barbie movie. And you know what? I'll watch it with you tonight."

Sydney's eyes widened with surprise, her face glowing with delight. "Really, Yn? You'll stay at home with me tonight?"

Yn nodded, her heart swelling with a newfound sense of purpose. "Yes, Syd. I will stay and I have a movie night with you. How does that sound?"

Sydney's joy was palpable as she clapped her hands and exclaimed, "Yay! I can't wait! It's going to be the best movie night ever!"

Yn couldn't help but share in Sydney's excitement, knowing that this simple act of being present meant the world to her young stepsister. It was a small but significant step towards rebuilding the bond they had lost during the difficult times.

After finishing their lunch, Yn made sure to give Rosie, their affectionate cat, some treats. The contented purring of the feline added to the comforting atmosphere, filling the apartment with a sense of peace and companionship.

As the afternoon stretched before them, Yn and Sydney engaged in various activities, painting pictures, playing games, and immersing themselves in imaginative adventures. The walls echoed with their laughter, filling the space with an undeniable sense of joy and love.

In the evening, as darkness descended, Yn prepared a cozy movie night setup. They snuggled up on the couch, surrounded by blankets and pillows, eagerly awaiting the start of the new Barbie movie. Sydney's eyes sparkled with anticipation, while Yn's heart swelled with a profound sense of gratitude for this precious moment.

Together, they embarked on a journey of imagination and wonder, the colorful world of Barbie unfolding before their eyes. As they watched the movie, their shared laughter and whispered commentary filled the room, creating an atmosphere of pure happiness and connection.

At that moment, surrounded by love and the innocence of childhood, Yn realized that she had made the right decision. By stepping away from the casino job and prioritizing her family, she had found a newfound happiness and purpose that money could never buy.

As the movie played on, immersing Sydney in its enchanting world, Yn couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. A lingering thought nagged at the back of her mind, reminding her that the life she had left behind at the casino might not be so easily forgotten. The ominous message from a certain Frenchman about consequences and haunting repercussions lingered in her thoughts.

Just as the tension was building within her, Yn's smartphone buzzed with an incoming call. Glancing at the screen, she saw it was Emily. She then stole a quick look at the wall clock and realized that Emily was supposed to be working at the casino at this moment.

With a quick apology to Sydney, she excused herself and stepped into her bedroom to answer the call, a sense of trepidation gripping her.

"Hey, Em," Yn greeted, her voice filled with a mixture of anticipation and concern. "What is it?"

Emily's voice on the other end of the line sounded urgent yet hushed, "Yn, sorry to disturb you but it's about the Marquis."

Yn's heart skipped a beat. She had hoped that leaving the casino and cutting ties with the Marquis would distance her from his influence. But now, it seemed that he had resurfaced in her life, bringing a wave of uncertainty and fear.

"What about him?" Yn asked, her voice trembling slightly.

Emily hesitated before responding, "He found out about your resignation from Mr. Malone. He's... not happy, Yn. He's quiet but... I saw his face."

Emily still had not finished but Yn immediately became pale as blood drained from her face. She stared into space as she remembered a flashback of what had occurred this morning. That time when she evaded his attempt to kiss her lips...

Yn quickly spun around and practically jumped into the limousine, eager to escape from the Marquis' presence. She took a shy peek at the man and noticed that...

Emily's voice continued from the other side of the call, "He was pursing his lips tightly."

He was pursing his lips...

Emily added, "His eye twitched and he just stood there."

His right eye twitched in silent anger, as he kept his silent yet fiery gaze on her figure inside the vehicle.

"I swear I felt his anger bubbling around him. It's eerie," ended Emily.

Yn felt her hands tremble slightly in fear and trepidation at the thought of the infuriated Marquis. She then balled them into fists to stop the tremble, but it was futile. That was when Emily appended, "Sophia noticed it too, and she wanted me to tell you to be careful. She has suspicion that the Marquis is involved in the underworld, and we don't know what he could do with his immense power and influence if provoked. Just let us know if you see any sign that he's stalking you."

Yn's heart sank at the revelation, a sense of dread creeping over her. She had always known that the Marquis was a dangerous man, but to have a notion that he was involved in the criminal underworld only added to her fear. She knew that she needed to be careful.

"Thank you for letting me know, Em. I'll be careful," Yn replied, her voice determined yet tinged with fear.

The phone call with Emily left her with a deep sense of unease. She couldn't shake off the image of the Marquis' angered face and the implications of his reaction to her resignation. Fear coiled in the pit of her stomach as she considered the dark possibilities that could unfold.

As the evening wore on, a foreboding silence settled over Yn's apartment. Sydney had drifted off to sleep after the movie, and Yn had tucked her into her bed. Shutting the TV and ensuring the locks were secured, Yn was allowed a moment to gather her thoughts.

A chilling silence hung in the air as Yn absorbed the gravity of the situation. She had hoped that by leaving the casino, she could sever her ties with the Marquis and find a safer path for herself that wouldn't damage her dignity anymore. But now, it seemed that she had only awakened a sleeping beast, a man consumed by anger... and revenge.

She began to ponder: Had she ever revealed her personal information to the Marquis?

When it comes to where she lived, she did not tell him an inkling at all, including Chidi who had sent her to the Silver Crest Apartments this morning, which was actually another apartment complex located a few blocks away from hers. So she was certain that at least the Marquis had no idea where her humble abode was. Perhaps Chidi had already given him false information about her living at some apartment.

Other than that, the Marquis did not know her phone number, unless he coerced Mr. Malone into giving him. She had to be prepared in case a mysterious caller contacts her phone in the future.

As the night grew darker, Yn couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Shadows seemed to dance menacingly outside her window, and every creak of the floorboards sent shivers down her spine. The air felt heavy with a sense of impending danger. She even went and double-checked the locks on every door and window, yet the fear persisted.

That sense of terror continued till the next morning and Yn did not sleep well because of it. She was on alert the whole night and morning that she couldn't get enough sleep, resulting in dark bags under her eyes. She had to wave off Sydney's concern when the little girl mentioned about it.

As the two of them left the apartment, Yn double-checked the lock again and went out of the apartment complex. That was when her fear and vigilance caused her to survey the surrounding and noticed a mysterious car parked outside the building, its dark-tinted windows concealing the identity of its occupants.

She became paled right away, feeling coldness surge through her body, as she gaped at the black car in horror. She couldn't take her eyes off of it as she wondered who was or were inside it. She even had a thought to confront it and make the occupants roll down their windows. But what if it's just some innocent people who were waiting for someone?

Yn ended up shielding Sydney from the car's view and walked faster to her preschool. After sending her off and ensuring she entered the building, Yn looked around again. This time, the car from before did not show up anywhere. She thought she was going crazy for suspecting anything as a trail of the Marquis.

She then boarded a bus to head for the cafe she worked the morning shift at. As the bus made its way through the city streets, Yn couldn't shake the feeling of being followed. She kept glancing over her shoulder, searching for any sign of the mysterious car she had seen earlier, but there was no trace of it. She told herself that she was being paranoid, that it was just her imagination running wild after the events of the previous night. But deep down, she knew that something wasn't right.

As Yn walked into the cafe, she was still feeling uneasy and kept glancing over her shoulder. Edric, her coworker who had a crush on her, immediately noticed her tired and anxious demeanor.

"Yn, are you alright?" he asked with a concerned look on his face.

Yn hesitated for a moment, unsure of whether or not to confide in him. However, the events of the previous night and the mysterious car outside her apartment had left her feeling vulnerable and exposed. But it was a matter that couldn't be talked so easily to someone. She did not want anyone else to get dragged into this mess involving a powerful French aristocrat.

"I'm okay, Edric," she claimed, "I just... did not get enough sleep last night."

She could not help but once again look over her shoulder and outside the cafe's large windows, searching for any suspicious car parking outside the cafe ever since she came in.

Out of nowhere, a large hand landed on her shoulder unexpectedly, causing her to flinch with surprise and fear, as she gawked at the owner of the hand - Edric. He noticed the terror in her expression and was filled with more concern for her.

"Yn," he queried again, this time massaging her shoulder as a comforting act, "Are you really okay? You know you can tell me anything."

Yn took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. She appreciated Edric's concern, but she couldn't burden him with the truth. It was too dangerous, and she didn't want to involve anyone else in this mess.

"I'm fine, really," she said, forcing a smile. "Just a little on edge today."

Edric eyed her skeptically, but he didn't push the matter further. Instead, he offered to make her a cup of coffee and told her to take a few minutes to sit down and relax before starting her shift.

As Yn sat at a small table, sipping her coffee, she couldn't shake the feeling of danger that loomed over her. She couldn't believe how much her life had changed in just a few days. She used to be a simple bunny girl in a casino with no worries other than saving money for her family and collecting money for her mother's medical treatments. But now, she found herself constantly looking behind her back in fear of a French aristocrat who had taken an unhealthy interest in her - who had taken her virginity mercilessly.

She took another sip of her coffee and closed her eyes, trying to calm her nerves. Soon enough, Yn tried to push her fears to the back of her mind and focus on her work. She greeted the regular customers with a smile and took their orders, all the while keeping an eye out for any suspicious activity.

The next thing she knew, her morning shift ended and she was free to leave the cafe. Yn's heart pounded in her chest as she boarded the bus, her mind consumed by thoughts of the Marquis and the ever-present sense of being followed. She glanced out the window, scanning the passing streets for any signs of the mysterious car or the looming figure of the Marquis. But everything appeared normal, the city bustling with its usual activity.

As the bus neared the preschool, Yn's anxiety grew. She anxiously stepped off the bus and walked briskly towards the school, her eyes darting around, searching for any indication that the Marquis was closing in on her. The weight of fear settled heavily on her shoulders, making each step feel like an eternity.

Finally, she reached the preschool and hurried inside, her heart racing with a mixture of relief and trepidation. She found Sydney among the crowd of children, her bright smile a welcome sight that momentarily eased Yn's fears.

Yn and Sydney walked hand in hand toward their apartment building, their footsteps echoing in the quiet street. The weight of the day's events lingered in Yn's mind, her senses heightened, and her instincts on high alert. She couldn't help but feel a constant prickle of unease, a nagging presence that seemed to follow her every move.

As they approached their apartment door, Yn's eyes landed on the bouquet of tuberose flowers and the square-shaped box of Ferrero Rocher chocolates placed on the floor mat. Her breath caught in her throat, a mix of curiosity and apprehension surging through her veins.

Sydney's eyes lit up with excitement, tugging on Yn's hand as she pointed at the gifts. "Yn, look! Someone left us flowers and chocolates! How sweet! Did a prince drop by?!"

Yn's heart raced, and her mind flooded with questions. Who had left these tokens of affection? Was it a kind gesture from a well-meaning neighbor, or was it another calculated move by the Marquis to unsettle her? If that's the case, then that means the Marquis knew for certain where she lived through some means. This also meant that her home was at risk. She and Sydney were at risk.

With trembling hands, Yn picked up the bouquet of tuberose flowers, their delicate fragrance enveloping her senses and making her feel... odd. The fragrance caused her pussy to throb subconsciously, but she paid no mind to it. The white blooms stood in stark contrast against the somber darkness of the hallway, their beauty tainted by the weight of uncertainty.

Besides the flowers, the golden-wrapped box of Ferrero Rocher chocolates beckoned, tempting yet foreboding. Yn's mind swirled with a mix of caution and curiosity. She couldn't help but wonder if this was a twisted message, a reminder that the Marquis had found out where she lived and that he still had power over her life.

Suppressing her unease, Yn put on a brave face for Sydney. "Yes, Syd, it seems someone has left us a surprise."

Sydney clapped her hands in delight, picking up the box of chocolates and shaking it enthusiastically, "Who is it? Maybe it's a secret admirer!"

Yn forced a smile, her mind racing with possibilities, none of them good. She knew that she couldn't take anything from this, not when the probability that the Marquis was involved was huge. The timing was too great. Her apartment door had never received gifts like this before. But she also couldn't let Sydney know how worried and alarmed she was.

"Open them, Yn! I want to eat the chocolates!" Sydney said, hugging the box of chocolates close to her body.

Once inside, Yn placed the flowers on a table and carefully opened the Ferrero Rocher box, tearing off the wrapping paper. Sydney was by her side, eyes glinting with excitement, and was eagerly awaiting her turn to devour it.

As Yn observed Sydney consuming the chocolates with no worries in her mind, her head raced with questions. Other than the Marquis, who could have left these gifts? And more importantly, what were their intentions? She was trying to look at this situation positively and try not to suspect the Marquis in everything but... If it's not him, then who?

As the hours ticked by, the apartment remained cloaked in an unsettling silence. Yn couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched, that invisible eyes were peering into her private sanctuary. Every creak of the floorboards, every gust of wind outside, sent a shiver down her spine.

As night fell and Yn prepared Sydney for bed, the weight of the situation bore heavily upon her shoulders. She tucked Sydney in, ensuring her safety and comfort, all the while knowing that she couldn't let her guard down.

Yn couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, not even as she slipped into her own bed. The darkness enveloped her, and she could hear nothing but the sound of her own breathing. She knew that she had to be vigilant, that she couldn't let her guard down even for a moment. Because if it was indeed the Marquis who was behind the gifts, then she was in grave danger.

The thought made her heart race, and she tried to calm herself by taking deep breaths. She closed her eyes and tried to picture a peaceful scene, but her mind kept going back to the Marquis and his endless games.

Suddenly, her phone beeped, causing her to jump in surprise. She picked it up from the nightstand, her heart thumping in her chest. It was a message from Emily. She opened it and paled in an instant.

[Emily: Yn, sorry to disturb you again. But I just want to tell you that tonight, the Marquis did not appear in the casino at all.]

[Emily: Just wanted to inform you.]

Yn's mind raced as she read the message from Emily. If the Marquis wasn't at the casino, then where was he? That sort of proved that he was the one behind the bouquet and chocolates, right? Or perhaps not. Maybe she was overreacting, she thought.

Those texts kept her up at night, tensing up every time she heard something out of the ordinary, or practically any noise at all. The stray dogs' barks and howls outside the apartment complex added to the eerie atmosphere, heightening Yn's unease. The sounds seemed to echo through the night, a constant reminder of the lurking danger that awaited her.

Every creak of the floorboards and gust of wind outside seemed to whisper the Marquis' name, a chilling reminder that he was watching, waiting, and planning. The sense of being trapped in a web of his making grew stronger with each passing moment.

As the night wore on, Yn's exhaustion began to take its toll. Her eyelids grew heavy, and her mind became foggy with fatigue. Yet, every time she started to drift off, a jolt of adrenaline shot through her, jarring her back to full alertness.

Hours passed, and Yn barely got any sleep that night. The first rays of sunlight peeked through the curtains, casting a pale glow in the room. Yn's body was weary, her mind overwhelmed by a mix of exhaustion and apprehension. She knew that she couldn't continue like this, on the brink of exhaustion and paranoia.

She thought she would be done with the Marquis de Gramont upon quitting the casino, but apparently, it made her remember about him even more than before. It felt like she was going to live her life like this forever - always on edge and wary of everything as she had to look over her shoulder for any trace of the Frenchman.

She could not stay like this. She had to do something, but what? She couldn't confront him or else, he would make her life a living hell using his influence, power, and resources, and possibly rape her again as a consequence for any wrongdoing he thought she had done to him. She couldn't see him again.

It was Saturday that day, so Sydney did not have any preschool this morning. Not only that, but Yn did not have any morning shifts at the cafe on weekends, so she and Sydney were completely free on weekends. Yn then decided to bring Sydney and visit their mother together at the hospital and get some information regarding her treatment and upcoming surgery.

Yn and Sydney got ready for their visit to the hospital, hoping to find solace and support in the presence of their mother. Yn dressed Sydney in her favorite outfit, ensuring she looked presentable, and chose an outfit for herself that showed her modest yet confident, despite the turmoil she felt inside.

As they made their way to the hospital, Yn's mind swirled with a mix of emotions. She longed to see her mother, to feel her reassuring touch and hear her comforting words. She yearned to not worry a single thing about the Marquis, and she had hoped that seeing her mother would give her that peace. After all, she did see her mother's hospital room as a sacred place of serenity for her.

Upon entering their mother's room, Yn and Sydney were initially relieved to see her smiling and in good spirits. However, as they took in the scene more fully, Yn's relief turned to shock and disbelief.

Their mother's laughter echoed in the room, and Yn's gaze fell upon the Marquis de Gramont, sitting by her mother's bedside. He had seemingly made a joke that had elicited her mother's laughter. The sight of the Marquis in such a familiar setting sent a wave of panic crashing through Yn's body.

Yn’s body stiffened and her gaze froze on the Marquis. The color drained from her face as a chill ran through her spine. Her mind raced with questions and worries as her heart raced too quickly to keep up with it. Her mouth felt dry and her breathing quickened, though she could not move for the fear that had taken over.

Her mother finally noticed Yn's presence and a mischievous twinkle danced in her eyes. "Ah, Yn, my dear, why didn't you tell me about your dashing boyfriend?"

It was at that moment the Marquis turned his head around, looking at Yn with a tender smile. Despite his attempt to look loving and warm, his eyes betrayed it all. They bore darkness and self-satisfaction, and they were filled with a smugness that spoke of secrets - her secrets. His gaze was piercing and steady as they gleamed with sinister energy.

It's as if he loved seeing her again yet he desired to devour her in the most filthy way again and again upon laying his eyes on her.

Yn's heart sank, her mind struggling to process the situation. How did the Marquis know about her mother in the hospital? How did he manage to infiltrate even this sacred space? How did he deceive her mother into believing that he was anything more than a dangerous man?

Sydney skipped into the room and looked up at the tall Frenchman and asked innocently, "Mom, who is this?"

Her mother replied almost proudly, "His name is the Marquis Vincent Bisset de Gramont. He is from France, and your big sister's close friend, you see."

Yn frowned in bafflement at how her mother knew his name - his full name, even. He then stole a glance at the Marquis who was somewhat smug to know that her mother had remembered his name correctly.

"Wow!" Sydney inched closer to the Marquis and pointed at his three-piece suit, "I like your clothes! You look like a prince!"

The smile on the Marquis' face widened as he grinned at the little girl and said in his thick French accent, "That is sweet of you. Thank you, little mademoiselle. Do you want chocolates?"

He fetched something out from the inside pocket of his jacket and revealed it to be a Ferrero Rocher ball. Yn's eyes widened in alarm while Sydney squealed in delight before she took it excitedly. The little girl spoke, "My favorite chocolate! Were you the one who put gifts on our door?"

The Marquis chuckled, "Yes, I did. Do you like them?"

"I love them!" effused Sydney, "I ate all of the chocolates while my sissy took care of the flowers!"

Yn's mother then laughed lightheartedly and chimed in, "Oh my, Vincent. You even gave them gifts? How nice of you, really."

Yn’s mind raced as the Marquis charmed her family members, she knew that he was playing a dangerous game. She knew that he was capable of unspeakable things, and the thought of him being so close to her mother and sister made her skin crawl. She couldn't shake the feeling that he was plotting something, and she needed to find a way to get away from her family. Her precious family.

She could tell that the Marquis was up to something sinister, but she couldn't cause a scene here. What if she exposed him to her mother and sister? Would he reveal who he was and threaten them all, putting them in grave danger because of her mouth? Maybe he already had a pistol inside his pocket. No. She would not let him point that at her family.

She had to play along and act like everything was fine.

Yn could feel the Marquis' gaze on her, and she knew that he was enjoying her discomfort. She could see the way that he watched her when no one else was looking, and she knew that he was trying to intimidate her. He stared at her longingly, like a wolf would stare at a deer.

Yn began to ponder on how to ensure the safety of her family when the Marquis spoke to her out of the blue, "Yn, you seem pale."

He rose from his seat and went to stand in front of her before he placed his open palm on her forehead, stunning Yn to silence, while her mother was wearing a restrained grin at what she thought was a cute display.

The Marquis then turned to her mother and sister and said with a fake, charming smile, "Excuse us for a moment. Yn needs some fresh air."

He took Yn's hand and led her outside of the hospital. The air was cool and crisp, a welcome relief from the stifling atmosphere inside. Yn's heart was pounding in her chest, and she was sure that the Marquis could feel it through their connected hands.

They walked through the semi-busy hallway of the hospital in silence until the Marquis was the one who broke it by saying, "You did not tell me you have a sister."

Yn yanked her hand out of his hold and she inquired with mild fury, knowing she had to keep her voice down in the middle of the hallway to not cause a scene, "What are you doing here?"

"Is it wrong to meet the family of my lover?" he countered with his heavy French accent and his usual triumphant smile.

Yn hissed, "What did you say to my mom?!"

Instead of responding to her, the Marquis said, "You never cease to amaze me, ma lapine. You quit your job at the casino after I gave you that 50k. You used that for your mother's treatment. Nice use of the compensation for your body and virginity."

"Don't say that," Yn hissed, "People will hear you."

The Marquis smirked, "Then let me find an empty room for both of us."

Without waiting for her response or consent, he grasped her hand and tugged her toward a direction.

"Where are we going?" she whispered as they entered a narrow, empty corridor.

"We need to resolve something somewhere," he said as he pushed her into a room.

The hospital room was white with brightly lit fluorescent lights that illuminated the interior. The bed was crisp and white with thin blankets and a pillow, making it look inviting. There was a small wooden table with a couple of chairs for visitors to sit on, as well as a personal bathroom equipped with a toilet, sink, and mirror.

The Marquis then pushed her against the wall and pinned her down with his body. He pressed his lips close to her ear and said with a sensual voice, "You seem to be forgetting a lot of things after I gave you that 50k. You cannot escape me, ma lapine. I will make you remember that."

Yn struggled against him and the wall and cried out, "Stop! You're not doing this to me again!"

Before she could scream more, he captured her lips with his and ravaged them with his tongue. Suddenly, she managed to break free and slap him angrily. That caused him to back off in shock and held his stinging cheek in an instant.

Yn stared at him wide-eyed, eyes blazing with rage and indignation, with slight fear, before she immediately spun around and rushed towards the door.

However, just before she could grab the doorknob, a pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist from behind and tugged her back into the room. She was thrown onto the bed and he crawled over her and pinned her down by the wrists, straddling her thrashing thighs roughly. She tried to scream, but he muffled her mouth with his.

"You think quitting your work at the casino will set you free from me," the Marquis said, his eyes ablaze with fury and dark lust, "You are mistaken. I will make you remember your duties, ma lapine."

One hour later, Sydney was lying with her mother in the latter's bed as they chattered away about the difference in their daily lives. Her mother had known all along how much time had passed, but made no mention of it, until Sydney spoke up:

"Hey, mom. Where is Yn?" the little girl looked up at her mother with wide eyes of curiosity and child-innocence.

The mother smiled warmly and brushed her daughter's hair back, "She is with her boyfriend. She's gonna be fine, Sydney. Maybe she is bringing him around the hospital."

The two of them were clueless that the man - who claimed to be Yn's boyfriend - was fucking her senseless at the moment in an unoccupied patient's room. He pinned her in the inescapable mating press as he rammed into her mercilessly. Her pussy was overfilled with the semen he had filled her to the brim previously, but he was not done yet. He drilled his cock into her cunt with unrelenting vigor - as if she was truly his cumdump.

His hard cock was completely coated with his semen and her juices, creating filthy squelching noise as he fucked her cum-filled cunt as if he was really aiming to breed her womb.

His eyes were ablaze with a dark and primal lust as he held her down, her arms pushed down to the bed as if she was chained. She was utterly at his mercy as his hips pistoned in and out of her, each thrust pushing her further and further toward the edge of pleasure and pain. The smell of sweat and sex filled the air as he fucked her with animalistic intensity.

He was grunting with each thrust, his groans of pleasure echoing off the walls as he thrust harder and faster. The sound of flesh slapping together was almost deafening in the small room as her muffled whimpers mingled with the sound, echoing off the walls around them, tarnishing the fact that the hospital was a safe haven for Yn.

PREV : Chapter 04

NEXT : Chapter 06

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marquis de gramont P1

Have you watched Bill in John Wick 4? Because the way you write Roman… I think you’d do Marquis Vincent de Gramont justice🫣 He’s like Roman but older, a little more evil and French 🤤sooooo… guess what i did last night because of this. i finally watched JW4, and let me tell you i got INSPIREDDDDD!!!

"Oh."- you exclaim a little but Vincent de Gramont never acknowledges it, smirking behind you as he gently massages your lower back.You start feeling a bit hot, aroused even as he continues his ministrations, fingertips barely dipping to the swell of your ass.Your breathing is slow and deep, your body completely relaxed as you left yourself in Vincent de Gramont's precious hands.Vincent de Gramont shuffles a little, you hear more oil being opened before you feel his hands on your foot. "Good?"- he checks in on you and you whimper as he presses and continues bringing you relaxing touches."Perfect."- you half-whisper, your mind floaty, all the stress from the week forgotten, no thoughts, just Vincent de Gramont.Vincent de Gramont, with his soft hands and deep voice, his pretty smile and adorable freckles.Wait.Why are you thinking of him like that?You don't know why, and you don't care as his hands slide above your ankle, he presses four fingers on your skin as if he's measuring something on the inner side before he finds a pressure point and starts working on it.As soon as his finger finds that spot, you shiver, feeling yourself getting aroused the more he keeps circling that spot.You would feel embarrassed but you're so relaxed that you couldn't care less, your body melting even further into the bed, your arms coming up on either sides of your head as you gently fist the sheets beneath you.Vincent de Gramont smirks, massaging the point harder, making your arousal drip between your folds, your cunt clenching around nothing.He notices your slight squirming and that lets him know he's got you right where he wanted you. He lets go for now, hands sliding up to massage your tired muscles.At this point, you're aroused, wishing he would touch you where you need him the most and you want to press your legs together but you don't want him to notice that.Vincent de Gramont already knows, after all, his touches were purposeful and he has wanted you for so long, wanted to be the one to make you feel good. "Lix."- his nickname almost sounds like a whimper as he runs his hands on the back of your thighs."You okay?"- he asks, his fingertips dipping between your legs, touching your inner thighs as he gently starts massaging the flesh.This is the last straw, your slick is now gushing out and you start feeling embarrassed, wondering if he can see it or smell it."I-I'm fine."- you whimper as he keeps massaging your thighs."You sure?"- he asks, hands sliding up, close to your core and you lean into his touch as you grip the sheets."N-no."- you whimper."What's wrong?"- Vincent de Gramont smirks, fingertips brushing your asscheeks."I- um… I'm horny."-

[cillivnz]

𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐜𝐞𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐮 𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐬 [𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐬 𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐝𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭]

CHAPTER ONE —— AFTERMATH

warnings. angst, gore descriptions, torture, mentions of death, stabbing, shooting; basically your average 14 minutes into a john wick movie.

a/n. occasionally updating the preliminaries post of this series as deemed necessary. all warnings and details would be mentioned in that post. note, this is a slow burn (emphasis on slow). i hope you enjoy reading this short chapter, i promise it’ll get better. this one’s for the anon who wanted angst, i owe it all to you, honey. <3 pardon any inaccurate translations.

notes. Rehneyr Corsioni [OC] — ex-associate of reader’s father. Edgar Corsioni [OC] — Rehneyr’s son.

TRANSLATIONS. mon ange — my angel; tenez-moi — hold me; va te faire foutre — fuck you/fuck off; “Écoute, si tu parviens à répondre, tu seras libre de vivre ce qui reste de ta vie pathétique.” — Look, if you manage to answer, you will be free to live whatever is left of your pathetic life; “Sing, pute.” — Sing, bitch; “Je ne ferais jamais ça.” — I would never do that; “Laisse moi ici,” — Leave me here;

Clustering sounds beside you were your alarm. Your eyes fought to get adjusted to your dimly lit surroundings, in a panic, you shot up from the bed. Bed? You were uncertain of where you were, until you saw a tall figure hulking, with his back towards you. As if sensing your inquisitive eyes on him, he turned around, a solemn expression on his face, plump lips sealed tight, yet his gaze softened at the sight of you. “Good… morning.” He said shaking his head, it seemed like he wasn’t too fond of his words, considering the sun set a few hours ago. You took a moment to look down at yourself, wearing an oversized, white silk shirt, and your panties. “I took the liberty of cleaning you, I’m sorry, ange.” He was avoiding your gaze, looking at the foot of the bed. “It’s okay, Vince.” “I appreciate you.” Your voice was soft, just a whisper lingering in the breeze.

“You need to rest.” He spoke with an authoritative concern. “I can’t, I just woke up.” You let out something along the lines of a chuckle and a scoff. “Lie down.” He raised his brows, a pleading look on his handsome face. “Lie down with me.” You quirked a brow, not anticipating the flush on his cheeks to be so prominent. “If, uh, if that’s what you want, ange.” He dare not look at you while discarding his jacket, slowly climbing beside you in the queen-size bed, long legs almost swinging out of it; the long bed that sufficiently accommodated you, failed to do the same for him.

Perplexity. Life had a way of arousing it, for life is a gland and these shitty plotholes are the hormones it secrets into your bloody life. A day ago, you mourned the loss of your family, this man, one who vowed service to your father, abandoned him when he needed him the most; when you needed him the most — but he’s here now, isn’t he? You should’ve been mad, hell, he of all people knew the degree of your wrath once unleashed, but you couldn’t be mad at your Vince, not when he sank into the mattress, beside you, pressing himself against you, tauntingly gently, reluctant on whether to be a bit selfish and let his arm rest on your waist, close all humane proximity between you two, and let whatever warmth he still possessed, even if it came from the fiery depths of hell he was certain to burn in, creep onto you.

You noticed this reluctance, despite not facing him. You couldn’t, you feared what you’d do once you’d catch those ocean eyes of his staring into the depths of your soul, digging an abyss into it with his piercing gaze, creating his personal hell inside of you.

“Vincent,” you whispered. “Yes, mon ange.” His soft voice whispered. “Tenez-moi.” Finally, the hesitant arm found homage, snakes around your waist, pressing his godly body against yours. The grip was possessive, permanent, and above all, right. Nothing has ever felt so right, to both of you. In that moment you knew, Vincent would fight heaven and back for you, in your name, whatever it takes.

Amidst your sleep, you heard agonising whimpers from behind you. Both of Vincent’s hands were on your hips, like the fullness of them was comforting. “Ange,” He shivered a whimper, grip tightening around your hips, squeezing them in fear, fear of whatever horror he saw behind those eyes shut tight.

“It’s okay, Vince. I’m not going anywhere.” You whispered, fingered grazing the veins on his large hands. He seemed to lean into your touch, crouching so his head could rest on your shoulder. ‘Not now, not ever.’ You meant to say, but you’re never had a way with words, a knotted tongue and a betraying body.

When morning came, so did the hellhounds. Jolting up at the sound of gunfire, your first thought was if Vincent got hurt, but not seeing him in bed with you as you’d requested, somehow, hurt more than what you’d knew a shot to the heart would. Getting up from the sheets in a frenzy, you reach for your 9mm and rush to the window. The sight below was three men circling in on one Vincent. Three armed men, and one Vincent with his weapon on the ground. You aim at the thug on the left — headshot; right, headshot, leaving the big boy with one man to knock down, a piece of cake, considering the boy was 6’4. He looked back at you, a grin plastered on his beautiful face, before he turned to the man in-front of him and tackled the shooter to the ground. “Atta boy.” You yelled out the window, before heading down to assist him.

‘Torturing’ is what an amateur would call it. You, on the other hand, say it like it is. ‘Information extraction’, it is. That’s truly how simple it is, the good ol’ human compliance, cooperation. You wouldn’t want to be a sinful Pinocchio and say you didn’t enjoy it when they didn’t, however. A challenge, hellions and rascals, and you loved brat-taming. Foreseeable, was this sight. A man stripped to the bone, tied in razor blade ropes of bondage, bleeding rivers of crimson at the hands of you and your beloved. Friend. Beloved friend.

“Tell us who sent you.” Vincent demanded, the tone of his voice was enough to snap you out of your sinister daze and let gooseflesh arise. “Va te faire foutre.” The son of a bitch had the audacity to retort. “Écoute, si tu parviens à répondre, tu seras libre de vivre ce qui reste de ta vie pathétique.” You sigh, rubbing the bridge of your nose in annoyance. The bastard spitting on your face was the last straw for Vincent, who conjured a knife from an apparent holster and grabbed the perpetrator by his short hair. “If you won’t talk,” he said, slashing the man’s throat in one swift stroke, “Sing, pute.”

Fear, for the first time, as the evening sun made feeble attempts to paint the perpetrator’s etiolating face a hue of tangerine, gargling on his own blood, he managed to weakly reveal, “Corsioni,” before leaving this realm, leaving behind no legacy in a maggot’s world, but a mess for you and Vincent to clean.

Rehneyr Corsioni, an associate of your father’s. You remember talk amongst your mother and his wife of a marriage (of convenience) between you and his son, Edgar. “Je ne ferais jamais ça.” You’d scowl at the sound of his name. He had his Russian mother’s face and his Italian father’s eyes, his skin and her hair. A lethal combination, something many a woman has succumbed to in the past, but not you. You had your own plans involving a very mercurial and brooding Parisian boy. His fawn hair, his blue-green eyes; you’d decided to call the colour a shade of Turkish blue. Looking at him now, dried blood splatters tainting his face, you noticed he hasn’t changed much. He was still your Vince, right?

After ridding yourselves of the body, Vincent and you stayed outdoors, staring into the wisteria horizon; at the ravens flying into the greenery and at the bats flying north. “How are you holding up?” He asked you, breaking the silence after minutes of staring at you, a habit you’ve noticed him picking up. “All things considered…” you paused, peering into the sky as if the clouds were etched in your answers. “I’m just glad you’re with me, Vince.” You turn to him, resting your head on his shoulder.

May you be damned for finding solace in this state, but were you really to be blamed when tonight’s the first time he’s lowered his walls? Just enough for you to hop over, or sit atop them prettily. “About that,” he inched away a little, causing you to raise your head, tilting in confusion. “I think you should leave.” He spoke, his words were choked by uncertainty and his brows furrowed at how pathetic he sounded. “What?” Your voice was barely a whisper. “America. Stay there for a bit, lay low, or even find contracts. Laisse moi ici, just until things pacify.”

Pacify? What was left to assuage in this city of ruins? “Vincent, there’s nothing left for me here — for us, here.” You began reasoning, eyes flickering from his face, to his hands. When he blatantly refused to meet your gaze, you grabbed one of his hands, the whole of your hand seemingly elfin in his large ones. This act forced him to stare you down, unlike he does voluntarily, from time to time; this instance, you had to force him to look you in the eye.

“I’ve already booked a ticket, an apartment, clothes, everything— you don’t have to worry about none of that.” He tightened his hold on your hand, grabbing the other, too. “Please, Ange. I need you to do this.” He beseeched. Never had you ever seen such a pleading look on his face, agony whirling in his eyes. “For me?”

For him you found yourself on a plane to New York, tears threatening to break the dam of dignity in your eyes and flood away as you reminisce about his arms that wrapped around you the night before, and the way he leaned in but pulled away in the blink of an eye, muttering curses, unheard of by you, but the twitch of his mouth and the tearing up of his eyes didn’t go unnoticed by you.

If your departure meant more to Vincent than he was letting on, why was he adamant on sending you away, and what wrath will the city of Paris go through now at the hands of a man apoplectic with provoked rage? Unfortunately, you couldn’t see for yourself, so, you let sleep cradle your being and drift off to some unconscious safe haven.

[unreliablesnake]

Pregnant (Vincent de Gramont x reader)

Summary: You find out you're pregnant, and this little piece of information soon reaches Vincent as well.

Note: Part of the Vincent takes a liking to you series. Find it here. / If you want to know when I post new stuff, follow @unreliablesnakefics and hit the get notifications button. I don't have a taglist.

Warnings: afab!reader, pregnancy

It couldn't be. It must be the stress from the wedding, you kept telling yourself, although you stopped believing it hours ago when you went to the pharmacy to pick up a pregnancy test. With each passing second it was getting realier, the possibility that you were pregnant.

Marrying a man like Vincent was one thing. You could always get a divorce and live the rest of your life free of him. But giving birth to his child, his heir, was a completely different matter. It made you feel uneasy, and you didn't know what to do to calm down a bit.

“Is everything okay in there?” the employee of the pharmacy–who kindly let you use their bathroom–asked worriedly.

By now, as you were sitting on the cold tiles with two identical tests in front of you, you were already sobbing. You didn't want them to be positive. No, they couldn't be. That would be too much to handle right now.

“Yeah, I'm fine. Give me three more minutes, please,” you called out, trying your best to sound calm.

The time displayed on your phone seemed to have frozen some minutes ago. It couldn't take this long to get the results, you'd been sitting there for what felt like at least half an hour. But according to the clock it had only been three minutes, and by now you'd already been through a nervous breakdown.

It must be a new record.

Then the alarm went off, and you finally got yourself to take a look at the tests lying in front of you. They were positive. They were fucking positive, meaning you were pregnant with the child of a man you weren't even sure you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.

Sure, sure, a few years of marriage sounded like fun, but the whole 'til death do us part thing wasn't something you wanted. Fun's fun, but who needs that in the long run? You sign the divorce papers maybe five or seven years from now and get on the first flight to New York.

Now your plans have begun to slowly slip away. You could never be able to leave your child behind, but you were also sure Vincent wouldn't let you take his only heir away from him. There would either be a nasty custody battle he would win with the army of lawyers he could afford, or you would be stuck here with him at least until the kid is old enough to go to college.

With a heavy sigh, you picked up the tests and tossed them into your purse, then looked in the mirror and took a few deep breaths. You were okay. Everything was okay. You couldn't let anyone see that you were upset, especially not the driver who was waiting for you outside.

If he noticed something was wrong with you, he would immediately report it to Vincent, and you hadn't figured out how to tell him the truth yet. You didn't even know how he would react, after all you couldn't just waltz in and start the conversation with it.

The drive home wasn't helping you. He knew. The damn driver knew something wasn't right, and you didn't miss the way he kept looking at you through the rearview mirror.

By the time you got home, you knew your dear lover would be there as well. And just as you expected, he was waiting for you outside, opening the door of the car to help you out of it. He didn't let go of your hand, and he didn't even say a word. He was just watching you with a quizzical look and waited for you to explain yourself.

“Mon amour?” he asked with an expectant look.

“Yes?” you replied, playing dumb.

Shaking his head, he swept a strand of stray hair behind your ear and said, “Something's wrong, I can tell.” But you remained silent, and the only reaction from you was a small smile as you looked up at him. “You do know you can be honest with me, right?”

Sure. Just not about this. “Of course I know. But there's nothing to worry about,” you lied. Oh, if you only knew. He would be livid, you were sure about that.

So you moved past him and walked inside, hoping he would finally stop bothering you with this. You had a lot to think about now, preferably somewhere away from. So you put your purse in the bedroom, then went to take a long, hot shower to clear your mind.

Things would be okay. First, you needed to see a doctor to find out how far along you were into the pregnancy, and to make sure the baby was okay. Everything else came after this. You had time to figure it out. You hadn't had any symptoms yet apart from being a little nauseous, so he sure wouldn't notice.

After you put on your super soft robe, you walked out of the bathroom as you dried your hair with a towel. But you came to an abrupt halt when you found Vincent sitting on the edge of the bed with the two positive tests next to him.

“Care to explain these?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

You were mad. You were really, really mad at him right now. “You seriously went through my purse?” you asked angrily.

He took a deep breath that he let out slowly, his green eyes never leaving your face. You couldn't read his expression, you had no idea if he was angry or happy or totally indifferent. It was hard to tell what was going through his mind and what he was about to say or do.

But after long minutes of deafening silence, he finally looked down at the tests and spoke up. “I was told you went to a pharmacy. I was worried about you so I sent someone to find out what you bought. When I heard you bought these, and that you used their bathroom to do the tests, I asked my man to check the trashcan in there. And what did he find? Nothing. I guessed you had them with you.”

Vincent signaled you to come closer, and you did as he wanted, taking enough steps in his direction to close the gap between you. He reached out to take your hands, pulling you between his legs. You didn't dare to speak up, instead you just watched him cautiously and waited for him to say or do something.

“You should have just told me, love. What did you think? That I would be mad at you?” he asked, his voice sickeningly sweet all of a sudden.

“I don't know,” you admitted.

Suddenly he let out a laugh, then pulled you down so your faces were on the same level. “We're getting married, and now we're starting our own family. Why wouldn't I be happy?” He placed a soft kiss on your lips while he waited for your reaction. “Are you happy too?”

What were you supposed to say to this? You were many things, but at the moment happy wasn't one of them. Confused, scared, uncertain. These words were better at describing your current feelings.

“Listen, I'm here by your side. I'll keep you safe. I'll keep our child safe. There's nothing to worry about,” he assured you before pulling you into his lap. “We're gonna be happy together, I promise you that.”

You rested your forehead against his, and he absentmindedly drew circles on the skin of your thigh. You believed him. You always knew he would protect his child, but he said you first. He really must have loved you.

Maybe him finding out so soon after you was for the best. You weren't sure you could have lied to him for weeks, making it look like everything was okay when it wasn't. But now that you knew he was happy, you knew things would get easier.

Maybe he would raise security whenever you went somewhere, but it would all show you that he truly cared about you. You could handle that. You could learn to handle that.

[endless-ineffabilities]

le marquis et le moineau - first dance

Marquis de Gramont x f!reader

synopsis: one of several short stories, set up as a prequel to this oneshot of le marquis et le moineau. This is set in the early days, depicting the beginning of what would turn into a dangerous mutual infatuation.

more of moineau: le marquis et le moineau ▪︎ (ill)fated ▪︎ other works

themes/warnings: slow burn, mentions of violence (it's the John Wick universe ofc), language, the Marquis is a manipulative asshole (to be fair, so is the reader) so don't expect a gooey romance!

The dinner was not what you expected.

First of all, you are surprised that you are actually enjoying yourself. Of all things to find pleasure in, you did not think it would be this - sitting across the man regarded as the most stupidly imperious beanpole in your profession.

Well, no one has ever called him a beanpole, but you think it appropriate. So pompous beanpole it is. He towered over everything- the fucking giant - blocking your line of sight when you had followed him into the dining room.

Why did you follow him? It might have been fear for your head, deferrence to who is currently the most important guest in the Continental. But with how it's going now, you think that you would have agreed regardless.

Maybe it's the way simply being there feels like there's a hundred mini electric shocks going through your body, like you're on high alert the whole time. His eyes would rake over you as the two of you converse, scrutinizing, and you would return the favour.

It's strange, for someone already living in a highly demanding and dangerous world, to take particular notice of any thrill. It is constant, akin to breathing.

But this... why does this feel different?

"Do I have something on my face?" you hear him ask, the ego practically jumping out of his voice. Connard. He smirks at how you seem to have been staring at him for quite a while.

"Well, I noticed this little wrinkle you have between your eyebrows," you make a little gesture, and his expression sours a bit, but he doesn't look convinced. "It's a lot similar to what Winston has, which is strange since he is ahead in his years."

I spaced out, asshole, you wanted to say instead. Why the hell would I be looking at your face?

That's a lie. He's a sight, and he knows it. You know it. The thing, he never has to know that you know.

Or, something like that.

He prattles on, yet another probing question bubbling from his lips. "From everything you've said, it does not look to me as if you are satisfied with your position. Am I correct?"

"Not satisfied? Marquis, I am exactly where I want to be, doing what I want to do - "

"And what is that, hmm? Being an apprentice? Waiting on the guests of this fine establishment? Always at their beck and call like some... " He pauses, although he's well aware of what he means.

"Some what?" you say, keeping your tone civil through gritted teeth.

He appraises you, wondering why he is hesitant in dealing the final blow, and simply hurling the insult as he usually does. You are nothing to him, after all, are you not?

But no. If he is to use you - and this option is growing on him - he must stay on your good side. It would help in making you more pliable to his demands.

You straighten, after you're sure that he would go no further, taking a sip of your wine, "Why, Marquis, I didn't think you would be so... considerate."

He sneers, "I can be all kinds of nice to you, ma belle, if you please me well enough."

Ma belle. From any normal, warm-blooded admirer, the words can invoke amusement or gratitude. Maybe embarrassment at the other person's audacity, in your perspective. But from him? The coil in your stomach that unfurled brought forth a weird sensation of warmth, despite your job-mandated emotional regulation training.

More understandably, it raised your suspicion. What does he want? Is he just being... well, French?

"On behalf of the Continental, consider it our mission to ensure that you remain pleased throughout your stay," you recite like an AI automation, in an attempt to appear unaffected.

He titters, shaking his head, "Be that as it may, I only require you."

"M-me?" Smooth. Real smooth, super spy.

"Your services," he elucidates, basking in your surprise. "I would like to take you into my employ. I think you have immense potential."

"I don't think I understand."

He rolls his eyes, frustrated at how slow he thinks you're being. "You may just be a baby receptionist - "

You scowl at that, "Assistant to the Concierge, actually."

The prat ignores you, " - but you're a baby receptionist at the Continental New York. You have considerable training, and from your background, it is clear that you're plenty accustomed to this life."

"What do you need me for? I'm sure you have an array of specialists at your disposal. I happen to know of someone who can do anything you require. John Wick is - "

He scoffs, his eyes glinting in amusement, "I am not too inclined to assign John Wick as my date to the most important gala in Paris."

"Pardon me? Date?" you blanch.

Again, he makes his trademark insolent expression. Are you deaf, his face practically screams.

"Oui, my date," he gingerly wipes the corner of his mouth with a napkin, and you imagine stuffing his mouth with it so he stops speaking entirely. "You've heard of the Paris ball, have you not?"

"The one held in your honour, every year."

"In my honour," he repeats, disdain lacing his voice. "Around three hundred little ants who claim to respect and admire me. But the thing about ants is... they have the tendency to destroy their queen."

"I see," you exhale, understanding his implication. "So I won't be there to simply be your date."

He tilts his head, "Were you expecting any different?"

Yes.

"No."

He smirks, having pushed you into a corner as planned. "Instead of having some dolt of an heiress or model with me like I normally do, I am choosing to bring you. I thought you would be able to weave your way into the crowd, sort out which ones are the little rats and report back to me. No one would suspect you because they would think you're just there to look pretty."

He sure has a way of being flattering and demeaning at the same time.

"Why can't your men do that job?" you challenge him. Your answer is nearly fully formed in your mind, for various reasons, but if there is a way out of this, you'll take it as a sign to bow out for your own good. "I'm sure you don't need to go through all this subtlety. Pick out the bad weeds and crush them underneath your polished boot, as you do."

"My dear, we are not animals. I prefer to move with a bit more finesse than my lowly counterparts."

Finesse? Or is he just unwilling to get his hands dirty? To wade into the murky waters among the sharks?

"Besides," he stands, walking slowly until he reaches you. He casts a shadow over the table as he stops behind your chair. When he speaks again, he has stooped so low you can feel his breath on the nape of your neck. "You need me. I am offerring you an opportunity to advance quickly in our world. Do me this favour and there is no one who will dare doubt your potential."

When you twist around to look at him, he is close. Too close. There is an almost sadistic glint in his blue eyes, a mark of someone who is used to getting what he wants.

You nod, once, expecting him to back away after that. Instead, he leans even closer, his eyes never leaving yours. You clock him raising a hand to your face in your peripheral vision, "What are you doing?"

He sighs in annoyance, and his fingers graze your jaw. He makes a condescending tsk noise, before saying, "If you're going to be my date, you have to be comfortable with being close to me. I will have to touch you, you know."

Prick.

Why are his eyes so goddamn blue?

Asshole.

"Of course," is all you mumble after a while.

It is as if he decides that he's done with you after that, stepping back, and gesturing to the hall with a noncommittal "Off you go."

"Thank you for dinner," you say, but he does not even care to look at you. "Do let us know if you need anything else."

You confidently walk to the entrance of his penthouse suite, head held high as you pass by his lackeys and associates. Thinking that the Marquis stayed behind in the dining room, goosebumps erupt on your skin when he says your name, and he is right behind you.

Before you can wonder why on earth he would see you out himself, he rubs his thumb momentarily in the space between your eyebrows, smirking.

"Oh would you look at that," he teases, "you have that little wrinkle too."

You notice how his accent is more pronounced when he is relaxed, in this case when he is making fun of you.

"Mmm," you smile sarcastically, and the glee on his face deepens.

"À bientôt, petit moineau," he says in finality.

There it is again, and you're resolved to find out what that means.

"Be seeing you."

Here I thought I ran out of juice for this story, but then...