#bill skarsgård x you

[hoteldreamss]

Imagine || Bill Skarsgård

Предупреждение: момент 18+; связывание/бондаж.

Тебе ужасно хотелось вернуться поскорее домой. Твоя учёба сегодня затянулась, а затем ещё и твои дела, на которые ты потратила больше времени, чем хотела поэтому и была такой вымотанной.

— Привет. — Ты подходишь к Биллу, который продолжает играть в приставку сидя на диване. Оставив быстрый поцелуй на его макушке, направляешься в свою спальню.

— Привет. — Скарсгард не успевает ухватиться за тебя, ты слишком быстро отходишь. Он ставит игру на паузу, поднимаясь с дивана и направляясь за тобой. — Как прошёл день?

Зайдя в спальню, ты кидаешь сумку в её "личный угол", и начинаешь доставать свои домашние вещи из комода.

— Неплохо. — В твоём тоне слышится небольшое раздражение, что Билл сразу замечает.

—Уверенна? Ты кажешься расстроенной.

— Я не расстроена. Просто немного устала.

Скарсгард облокачивается на косяк, пока ты размышляешь и изучаешь своё нижнее бельё, думая, какое взять. Твой парень наблюдает за тобой, поджимает губы и думает над тем, стоит ли ему сделать то, что он планировал, или вечер пятницы стоило перенести на вечер субботы.

— Я в душ. Закажешь что-нибудь? — Взяв нижнее бельё, ты закрываешь ящик и смотришь на Билла.

— Я приготовил нам ужин, — произносит он. — Картошка с курицей. И ещё я купил вино. Сегодня пятница, и я подумал, мы могли бы немного выпить.

— Круто. Я быстро. — Ты уходишь в ванную, надеясь расслабиться под тёплым душем и смыть с себя этот ужасный день.

Тёплая вода и впрямь помогает тебе. Расслабляет твоё тело и успокаивает разум.

Билл надеялся, что всё пройдёт хорошо, в конце концов, вы уже говорили об этом раньше, несколько раз вскользь. Он решил, что ты желала того же, чего и он. Пока он жил у тебя, и его квартира восстанавливалась после небольшого потопа, вы сблизились ещё больше, и это заставило его думать о разнообразии в вашей сексуальной жизни. Выйдя из ванной, с мокрыми волосами и в домашней, удобной одежде, ты усаживаешься за стол. Еда пахнет прекрасно, а вино, кажется, ещё одним соблазнительным способом расслабиться.

— Выглядит вкусно, — произносишь ты, поправляя волосы и смотря на Билла уставшим взглядом.

— Я надеюсь тебе понравится. Это то вино, что мы пили на 14 февраля, я, наконец-то, нашёл его. Оно же понравилось тебе, верно?

— Да. — Ты кажешься совсем не в настроении.

Билл внимательно следит за тобой, немного расстроенный тем, что ты слегка грустная и злая. Поэтому он думает, что ваш ужин может пройти в тишине. Скарсгард уже знал, что лучше оставлять тебя в покое, когда ты в таком состоянии.

— Спасибо. Было вкусно, — произносишь ты. Встав со своего места, ты убираешь тарелку, а затем направляешься немного пьяная в спальню.

Ты быстро вырубаешься, пока Билл чувствует себя слегка обделённым. Но вымыв посуду, он возвращается к тебе, ложась рядом с тобой и слыша твоё тихое умиротворённое сопение во время сна.

***

Ты просыпаешься раньше Билла, чувствуя себя лучше, чем вчера вечером. Сходив в ванную, после ты направляешься на кухню, чтобы сделать завтрак для себя и Скарсгарда.

Он выглядит сонным, когда выползает на кухню.

— Доброе утро. — Тепло улыбаясь, ты быстро целуешь Билла, подходя к нему. — Я сделала завтрак.

— Ты сильно рано встала? — Билл обнимает тебя, и ты чувствуешь тепло его тела, ощущая уют рядом с ним. — Как ты сейчас?

— Хорошо. Может посмотрим сегодня что-нибудь? Не хочу никуда идти.

— Как скажешь, красавица.

Билл любил иногда лениво проводить время с тобой. Ему нравилось лежать на диване, обнимая тебя, обсуждать с тобой всё произошедшее на экране вашего телевизора. И сегодня к тому же был пасмурный день, планы Скарсгарда должны были воплотиться в жизнь. Он был уверен, что если ты расслабишься, то станешь немного податливее.

Поэтому, когда заканчивается очередная серия «Сообщества», Билл решается поднять одну тему. Он надеялся, что сможет сделать это правильно. Ему не хотелось давить на тебя, и он никогда бы не желал принуждать тебя к чем-либо.

— Знаешь, я тут подумал... Может мы попробуем что-нибудь новое? Немного разнообразим наши выходные?.. — Он чувствует себя слегка нелепо и неловко. Скарсгард понятия не имеет как подобраться к этой теме. Несмотря на ваше доверие в отношениях, уважение и принятие друг друга, Билл понимал, как может звучать.

— Например? — Ты кидаешь на него заинтересованный взгляд, пока тянешься за своей кружкой чая.

— Помнишь, мы говорили о разных вещах... Чтобы мы хотели попробовать друг с другом. — Скарсгард смотрит на тебя, внимательно стараясь изучить твои эмоции, но ты кажешься всё ещё спокойной. — И я тогда сказал про... — Билл думает о том, как назвать это, просто связыванием или более научным термином. — Связывание.

Ты явно задумываешься, Скарсгард пытается понять, как ты реагируешь на это и что думаешь. Но хотя бы ты не смотришь на него с испугом.

— Ты хочешь попробовать бондаж? — Твои брови слегка поднимаются, пока ты стараешься обдумать его слова. Билл кивает, на самом деле, чуть заметно, но ты всё равно это подмечаешь.

Теперь ты в лёгком замешательстве, раздумывая и анализируя свои мысли.

— Прости. Если я не должен был... — Скарсгард чувствует себя идиотом и даже немного извращенцем.

— Билл, — ты стараешься правильно сформировать свои мысли. — Я не против. — Меняя позу, ты накрываешь руку своего парня своей и ласково гладишь его. — Давай попробуем. — Поцеловав Билла, ты отрываешься от него с улыбкой и с явным предвкушением.

***

Билл, сидя на кровати, продолжает перевязывать твои запястья у тебя за спиной. Ты терпеливо ждёшь, слегка в предвкушении. Твоё тело сковано верёвкой, которая сковывает тебя почти везде.

— Не туго? — интересуется Билл, поднимая взгляд.

— Всё в порядке, — твои губы искажаются в милой улыбке, после чего ты тянешься к нему, немного отклоняясь назад, чуть не сталкиваясь спиной с грудью Скарсгарда, желая оставить быстрый поцелуй на его губах, но Билл отстраняется, отклонившись назад. Твои брови хмурятся, а в глазах мелькает непонимание и лёгкая обида.

— Мы закончили с верёвкой, а значит, теперь без разрешения... — Он смотрит на тебя немного строже, кажется, раньше ты видела этот взгляд всего пару раз за все ваши отношения. Хотя Билл всё ещё старается быть мягким. — Ты не можешь вести себя так, как хочешь, ясно?

— Да.

—Да?

—Да, сэр? — Ты прищуриваешься, делая предположения о том, как он хочет, чтобы ты к нему обращалась. — Я не уверена, Билли. Это слишком резко, может оставим прозвища на следующий раз?

— Хорошо. — Он оставляет поцелуй у тебя на плесе, нежно и так заботливо. Ты чувствуешь его тёплую ладонь на своей талии.

Отстранившись, он помогает тебе лечь на живот, пока сам садится перед тобой. Кровать под тобой и Биллом прогибается. Ладонь твоего парня скользит по твоим ногам, он гладит твою кожу, наслаждаясь её бархатистостью, которая на самом деле была результатом твоего пребывания в ванной дольше нужного.

— Ты такая красивая. Ты знаешь это? Так прекрасна. — Голос Билла спокойный и чуть тише обычного, но ты всё равно чувствуешь прилив возбуждения из-за него. Жар между твоих ног начинает медленно растекаться, а узел возбуждения внизу твоего живота начинает затягиваться.

Лёгкий шлепок по одной из твоих ягодиц заставляет тебя вздрогнуть и вобрать в лёгкие больше воздуха. Теперь его тёплые ладони поглаживает твой зад, будто стараясь успокоить слегка раскрасневшуюся кожу.

Скарсгард не пробовал этого раньше, хотя он много прочитал и ещё больше просмотрел, второе было сделано на протяжение большей части его жизни скорее по желанию, нежели ради изучения.

— Блять. — Казалось, что теперь ему нужно немного времени, чтобы осознать то, что с ним происходит. Билл на самом деле, не сильно надеялся когда-то попробовать это и уж тем более с девушкой, которая так любима им и дарит столько любви в ответ. Поэтому он чувствует возбуждение и даже задумывается, не просто ли насладиться этим видом передёргивая на тебя. Хотя может это могло бы быть частью вашего «время провождения».

Ты чувствуешь, как Билл склоняется к твоему заду. И тогда происходит то, что ты не ожидала, зубы Билла впиваются в твою плоть, пока твоя попа вздёрнута вверх. Скарсгард слышит от тебя слабый звук, кажется, ты стараешься контролировать свои стоны и ему это никогда не нравилось, поэтому он решает, что его задачей является сделать всё, что он хотел долго и не решался.

Ты получаешь ещё один шлепок, и снова поглаживание. Это продолжается недолго, заставляя тебя слегка поскуливать. Но твоё возбуждение нарастает, а его похвала заставляет тебя становиться более влажной, и твоя сердцевина сжимается вокруг пустоты.

— Такая влажная, — Билл проводит пальцами по твоей обнажённой сердцевине. — Эта киска только моя, да?

— Да, — твой голос слегка ломается, когда пальцы Скарсгарда скользят по тебе, погружаясь внутрь. — Только твоя.

— Такая хорошенькая. Прелесть. — Билл склоняется к твоим влажные складочкам, и ты чувствуешь его тёплый язык, который заставляет тебя толкнуться бёдрами ему в лицо. Смешок Скарсгарда доносится до тебя и заставляет покраснеть, хотя из-за твоей позы кровь наверняка и так прилила к твоим щекам.

Билл умел доставлять тебе удовольствие. Поэтому ему не нужно много времени, чтобы ты брызнула. Теперь одеяло под вами слегка влажное из-за тебя.

— Как ты? — интересуется он, поглаживая твои бёдра, расставленные широко для твоего парня. Верёвки впиваются в твою кожу, что на самом деле нравится Биллу.

— Хорошо. — Скарсгард склоняется к твоему лицу, он берёт тебя за подбородок, заставляя слегка выгнуться, чтобы ему было удобнее тебя поцеловать. Это немного слюняво, но тебе нравится, и ты чувствуешь, как он гладит тебя по спине, а затем спускается к твоей попе, также поглаживая её для успокоения, и вот, его пальцы проскальзывают в тебя снова. Ты стонешь во время поцелуя, и Билл не собирается отрываться от тебя. Он помогает тебе подняться, теперь ты также сидишь на кровати, как и Скарсгард.

— Скажи, что ты моя девочка.

— Я твоя девочка. Только твоя. — Его пальцы погружаются в тебя глубже, пока он доводит тебя до очередного оргазма и заставляет скакать и тереться о его пальцы. И когда ты сжимаешься вокруг него, утыкаясь в его шею, чувствуя, как напряжение покидает тебя.

Твоё дыхание тяжёлое и глубокое, пока ты смотришь на Билла затуманенным взглядом. Его возбуждённый член упирается тебе в бедро, пока его рука поглаживает твой зад. Его губы расплываются в улыбке. Билл хотел бы продолжить тебя мучить оргазмами, слышать, как ты будешь умолять его перестать, но его возбуждение не утихает.

Он оставляет влажные поцелуи на твоей щеке, шее, он покусывает твою кожу, пока помогает тебе медленно перевернуться на спину.

— Ты в порядке? — интересуется Билл, устраиваясь между твоих ног. Он склоняется над тобой, внимательно следя за твоим слегка потерянным состоянием. Ты всё ещё не отошла от оргазмов, но Скарсгард не собирается делать тебе поблажки.

— Да. — Кивая, ты с трудом можешь собраться с мыслями, когда чувствуешь, как влажная головка члена Билла скользит по твоим складочкам и вздрагиваешь от излишней чувствительности. — Билл.

Ты стараешься отпрянуть назад, чтобы избавиться от контакта, но твоё положение с трудом позволяет тебе сдвинуться с места.

Скарсгард же проскальзывает в тебя без особого труда, благодаря твоей влажности и своему возбуждению. Его толчки быстрые и резкие, он тяжело дышит, утыкаясь носом в изгиб твоей шее. Твои стоны разносятся по всей комнате, пока Билл дотрагивается до твоего пучка нервов средним пальцем. Он гладит его, заставляя твоё тело снова натягиваться как струна из-за предстоящего оргазма. И ты сжимаешься внутри, вся напрягаясь, когда твоё освобождение вытекает из тебя.

Билл останавливается, испытывая свой кайф, погружённый глубоко в тебя. Его сознание постепенно освобождается от тумана возбуждения. Оторвавшись от тебя, он оглядывает твоё тело и оценивает твои эмоции. Но ты кажешься полностью довольной.

— Я люблю тебя, — Билл оставляет нежный поцелуй на твоих губах, поглаживая тебя по волосам. Его рука проскальзывает тебе под спину, к узлам верёвки, которые он намерен развязать.

Освободив тебя, его ладони проходятся по следам от верёвки, надеясь утешить твою кожу.

— Я тоже люблю тебя, — произносишь ты, положив свои руки на его щёки и даря жадный и долгий поцелуй.

Влажные волосы Билла спадают ему на лоб, его губы чуть припухли от поцелуев, как и твои, его щёки раскраснелись от жара, который начинал постепенно спадать.

— Как насчёт ванны? — предлагаешь ты.

— Я наберу. — Билл подрывается с места и направляется в ванную комнату.

[yup-thats-me]

— that's my wife • bill skarsgård

pairing: husband!Bill x wife!reader

summary: a man in the club thinks it a fun idea to harass you. What he didn't know was, your husband was right there to remind him his rightful place.

warning: harassment, language, anger | älskling = darling in swedish

note: don't hate. Just don't.

DON'T COPY/STEAL. NOT COOL

"You sure you're gonna stay here?" You pouted at your husband who was currently sitting on the bar stool with a glass of whiskey is his hands.

"No, älskling have fun. I'll just watch my gorgeous wife," Bill winked blowing you a kiss.

You nodded with a smile, stepping on the dance floor. There was "On the floor" by Jennifer Lopez was playing that really made you feel the beats and your hips and body began moving in sync.

Bill watched with heart eyes as you poured your heart out in your every move. Loving the way your hair bounced with your movements, the dress you wore perfectly accented our curves.

But the thing he loved the most was the diamond ring shining on your left hand ring finger. That ring reminded Bill everyday that you were his. That he was lucky enough to call you, a piece of art his wife. He knew he could never loose you not even in his dreams. You were his for eternity. And there was nothing that'd make him want to change things from the way that they are.

A call from his manager made him stand in a secluded area. He had to take it. When he came back, a man was dancing danced around you politely as everyone else was. Bill didn't see anything out of the ordinary. But he kept out an eye on the two of you. He had a feeling that guy near you did not have the best of intentions.

You still danced your heart out, moving your hips from side to side. Everything was going great untill the man's hand landed on your ass. You jerked away from him, anger burning in your eyes.

"The hell? Get away from me you perv!" You shouted angrily over the loud music. The man wore a disgusting look in his eyes that made you want to break his nose. And frankly you should but not wanting to cause a scene, you thought better of it.

"Now now, Doll. Don't pretend you didn't liked our little dance." You were getting more and more infuriated by this bastard. You lifted your left hand, showing him the diamond ring.

"See that, you asshole? That is an engagement ring and that means I'm married. Now fuck off!"

Meanwhile, Bill had come forward and was standing behind the man so that he was facing you.

"Let's forget about your husband, huh saxy mamá? Me and you—" Richard was cut off by Bill grabbing him by the collar.

He turned the guy around. Bill, with his tall stature looked down upon him with angry eyes. If looks could kill, that guy would have been buried 100ft by now.

"Watch your fucking mouth!"

"What the fuck? Put me down!" The man squirmed in his hold. Bill had lifted him off the ground by a few centimetres.

"THAT IS MY WIFE. Get lost before shit turns serious," Bill threatened with gritted teeth finally releasing his hold on his collar. The man fell down and straight up bolted for the door.

Bill returned to his normal loving self ina second and pulled you in for a hug. You breathed in the all familiar smell of his cologne and relaxed in his arms.

"You okay, Y/n? That ass didn't do anything right?" He asked, frantically looking all over you for any sign that said otherwise.

"No. I'm good. Let's go back home. That dick ruined the night," you said in a soft tone.

Bill put his arm around your shoulder and kissed your forehead, rubbing your arms up and down, comfortingly.

"No matter, baby. I'll make it up you," Bill sweetly.

[nyxvuxoa-writes]

Hello, my love... so okay... yes... would you kindly do.... Prompt #176. “I’m going to fuck you against the windows, i want everyone to see how good you are.” This prompt is for Roman Godfrey...

👉👈Thank you 👉👈

Imma go hide in a dark corner now...

Excited to finally write something for you that is tailored for you and not having you just appeal to my obsessions. I hope you like this.

𝑨 𝑹𝒐𝒐𝒎 𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂 𝑽𝒊𝒆𝒘

Roman Godfrey x Fem!Reader

#176. “I’m going to fuck you against the windows, i want everyone to see how good you are.”

◢ Genre: A touch of fluff, Kink, Smut ---- Suitable For Adults Only

◢ Warnings: PWP, dom!Roman, submissive!reader, exhibitionism, sort of window fetish, sort of public sex(?), some spanking, unprotected sex, p in v, sex from behind, hair pulling, biting, creampie, sexy time talk. slight praise kink, begging, mention of aftercare.

◢ Word Count: 2.6k

◢ A/N: Okay, so I have never written for Roman before, but I feel this will be pretty straightforward. I hope it hits all the right spots.

You have become accustom to how your relationship with Roman had grown. There was a sort of mutual understanding on how things are with him. He is in charge, and you had a 'place' to be in, for lack of better terms. In some small way you had control, but not in the normal sense of things; you had the control that a submissive in a bdsm relationship would have it.

This is your relationship with Roman. You are his submissive and he is your master. But when you are asked to strip down and stand in front of floor to ceiling windows, you hesitate slightly. Your eyes gaze to the window, watching as people walk past it. You would feel and be rather exposed to anyone who had possible wondering eyes.

After a moment though, and wanting to avoid correction, you slowly manage to strip down to nothing. Kicking your clothes to side, you look down at them like you had just lost your security blanket. Instinctually you want to cover yourself with your arms. It was natural for you to keep yourself covered, feeling rather unconfident, but you knew he would correct you. A part of you hated it.

Slowly you take in a deep breath through your nose, your fingers pressing into the palm of you hand. Roman was always one to push those boundaries with you. He like getting you to try something new, even if it made you a little scared or uncomfortable. He damn well knew this was going to make you uncomfortable. A part of him questioned if you would need to use your safe word. He hoped not.

Walking around you like an animal observing a cornered prey, he couldn't help but smirk slightly, a small chuckle escaping him. His finger reach over and the tips of them so gently graze your skin, moving from the side of your thigh and up around your body as he walked back around to stand in front of you. He fingers come to your nipple and he pinches and pulls at it slightly.

You tense a bit, feeling a small bit of pain. For a moment your lips push out and your brow furrows, almost as if you are pouting at him for doing that to you. At least he knows that he has your attention. You're focused and not zoned out, or withdrawing too much into yourself. This was going to be a big step for you.

“I’m going to fuck you against the windows, I want everyone to see how good you are.” He states, cutting straight to the point for the reason he had you here right now.

Your eyes go wide. "What?"

"I'm going to fuck you against the windows." He repeated, his tone slowing down slightly as he is allowing the sentence to sink into your brain for a moment. He licks at his lips as his hands reach up and he starts to take off his suit coat, laying it over the couch. He doesn't opt to take off his shirt, instead he loosens the tie and rolls up his sleeves to expose his forearms.

You could have used your safeword at that moment. You could have stopped him dead in his tracks and kept it from happening. The choice was right there and for a moment you considered it. But at the same time, there was something appealing about the idea. How many people would notice? How many people could stop to watch to see what was going on in the window.

Watching as Roman turned around and slid his hands into his pockets, watching you closely, you could feel as your heart started to pound in your chest. This wasn't how you were expecting your night to go. It was scary, but exciting. A small part of you remembered that you could stop this at any point if it became too much, and you mentally reminded yourself of that.

Letting your body relax, you looked at Roman with a small smile before you nodded your head, giving him that sort of consent that you were going to give it a shot. Roman smiles slightly, approaching you to cup your chin in his hand as he lifts your head to gaze up at him. He leans in and kisses you, pressing his lips roughly against yours before he spins you around to the window.

Gripping your arms, he brings your hands up to the window and presses your palms against it as he bends you over slightly. His hands move to your hips and he brings your hips out slightly, bringing you to that perfect level for him. His hand move gently over your lower back, grazing against your ass as he gently grips at your left cheek, his fingers pressing for a moment before brings his hand up and smacks it down against your flesh.

You tense and jump slightly. You had been expecting the motion, but it still had caught you off guard. This only caused your heart to pound in your chest a little more. Why did you have to face the window? Couldn't he have just lifted you up and pressed you against it? By his logic, sure, and maybe at some point he will. But this way people could see the faces you make as he presses his cock into the dewy folds between your legs. Bonus points if there happened to be an ex that walked by at that moment, but he doubt he would get that lucky.

A small chuckle escapes him as he steps back and takes a moment to observe you and the people that were already glancing into the window. This was going to be satisfying. His jaw clenches slightly, feeling himself starting to quickly stiffen in the restricting fabric of his pants. He starts to undo his belt, a sound that causes your ears to hyper-tune into it with clashing of the metal buckle. But he doesn't take it off, he simply starts to unbutton his pants, letting them drop just enough with his briefs to free his growing erect self.

Keeping his erect self in one hand, he reaches forward wit the other and bring his fingers to graze against your lower lips. Roman can feel the dampness spread as he presses his fingers into the folds slightly and runs them against your clit. This causes you to lift your hips slightly, a wave of excitement rushing over you with that feeling of anticipation and being nervous. It was a lot to feel at once and it caused goosebumps against your skin.

His finger press into your hole, as if he was preparing you to be ready for what would come right after them. He slowly pushes them deeply, reaching the full length of the fingers and starts to do a back and forth motion. You moan softly, your legs spreading a little bit as your juices start to coat them. Feeling satisfied with how wet you are becoming, Roman removes his fingers from you and positions himself behind you.

For a moment, your eyes glance up at the window and you can somewhat make out your reflections in it. Your lips part in a heavy breath as you watch, your vision going from his reflection and the people outside. A few stood by to watch, acting as though they were just leaning against something. Others simply shook their heads and walked on. This caused your heart to race further. Could you get in trouble for this? Technically speaking, yes.

Your toes curl slightly against the floor as you feel the head of Roman's cock pressing against your hole and then slowly sliding into you. He lets out a heavy groan, his hands quickly moving to your hips as he grips on and presses his entire length deeply into you. Your body grips at him, taking him deeply as your muscles felt around him slightly, almost as if to pull him in deeper.

Your slow moan and gasp for air felt louder than you intended, as if it bounced off the window in front of you and back at you. Your suck in your stomach a moment, feeling you body tense as his motions start in. First he moved slowly, bringing himself back to tip before he pressed his length into you again. He relished in the moment of how you felt around him. He was the reason you were tight. He was the reason you were wet. That is a satisfying feeling to him.

His hands travel against your body, moving from your hips up your side and resting against your ribs. For a moment his fingers dig into you, sending a little pain to mix with the feeling of pleasure, and that causes you to moan a little louder and press your hips back into his. When your ass met his somewhat open pants and flesh, he groaned, tensing slightly. You were letting that wall down, exploring something new, and he was eating it up.

Roman starts to pick up his pace as he grips at your ribs, allowing for just slightly quicker motions into your wet fold. He keeps himself buried a little more, no longer letting you feel the full length, but instead letting you feel the slightly faster, forceful nature of his hips. His breathing starts to pick up as he hears your moans and for a moment he leans forward slightly.

One hand reaches forward, gripping at your breast. He squeezes it in his hand as he presses his entire length into you, holding it for a moment as he allows his hand to fondle with your chest. His lips start to wonder against your shoulder-blade, kissing at your skin with a sense of passion. It hadn't been just a moment into hearing you moan more that Roman starts his motions again, pumping his hips into you.

"You feel so good." He mutters. "So wet. So tight. Are you my good girl?" He asks, while still leaning over slightly against your back.

You nod quickly, moaning and breathing heavily. You had forgotten what your hands were pressed against, the feeling of the glass more slick under your palms with sweat. He smirks against your skin slightly as he presses his teeth into your shoulder, biting at you a little, as his motions become more rough. Screaming out, your head drops a little more as your body tense out in both pain and pleasure.

Roman comes from the bite, lifting his lips and teeth off your shoulder-blade to see deeply purple markings and a faint bruise already starting to form. What's his, is his and he has no issues with marking his girl. Feeling pleased with himself, his cock twitches and hardens a little more inside you, which causes him to bring his hands back to your waist.

He started to give rougher, more forceful thrusts into you. Groaning and moaning loudly with you. The occasional fuck or oh god leaving someone's lips in a breathy moaned tone. The louder you became the rougher his motions started to get. Eventually, Roman's hands were in your hair and he was pulling on it. He pulled you back slightly, arching your back a bit, as his knees bent just enough to give himself a different angle.

He pressed himself into deeply, finding that right length to insert that would hit your sweet spot. He causes your legs to shake, trembling under you and you feel like your about to give way and lose your self of balance. He knew what that leg shaking meant, that tremble that ran through your body was something he had memorized. He learned how to work you, to help you achieve the finish that you craved from from.

"Good girl. My wonderful girl. Does that feel good?" He ask. "Y-yes Sir." You stammer, your fingers and palms red from how hard you were pressing them into the window. "Would you like to cum baby?" He coos at you, pressing his length in deeply as he says the word cum.

You moan and nod, hoping that he doesn't ask you to beg for it. But it was instinct, and before he could even say it, you were already begging for that sweet release.

"Please, can I cum? Please? I'm right there." You manage to get out between moans and heaving breaths. Roman looks amused, and rather proud of you.

"Ask me again." He mutters, almost growling as he's trying to contain his own moans for just a moment.

"Please. May I cum? Please let me cum." You insist. "Alright. Cum baby. Make a mess for me." He says, as both his hands go to grip at your sides.

You start to take some sort of small control as you rock your body back and forth a moment, starting to bounce yourself against Roman's length. He doesn't stop you and you cause his body to tense and the pressure to build more and more. "Oh fuck..." He manages to mutter. "Don't stop baby. Keep going. Keep going." He says, almost begging you. "You've got me right there baby."

You pick up the pace, feeling that release right on the edge there. And as he speaks, that begging and slightly needy tone coming from him, you find yourself trembling with a finish. Feeling like electricity was moving from head to toe, your body tenses and you start to have a heavy tremble work it's way through you. You cry out, moaning loudly as you keep yourself bouncing back and forth against him.

The feeling of your finish drove him. The way you tightened around him and moved against his length with desire and need, worked him to release that finish. He let go, his own legs trembling slightly as his fingers press into your skin. At first his head hung back in a moan before it drops down and he starts to give you short, hard thrusts, making sure to coat your insides with his seed.

For a moment, you both stood there, allowing yourselves to come down from the moment. He couldn't help but chuckle, feeling as you press back once more against him. Roman gives a small thwack at your ass and another grip at it for good measure, before he slowly pulls himself from you. It feels like you have lost your sense of legs, they shake under you with a heavy tremble and you wonder if you are even able to walk right now.

Roman smiles, helping you a moment as he turns you back to him and wraps his arms around your waist. His lips met yours and he kisses you deeply before pulling from it, allowing himself a moment to simply look at your features. This man adores you, with every fiber of his being.

"I'm proud of you." He comments. "Why?" You ask quietly, gazing up at him. "You didn't need to use your safe word. You went with it." He tells you honestly before he kisses you again. "How about we get you into a hot bath and I order some food?" He suggests, reaching up to touch the side of your face. You smile at him, feeling almost shy about being praised, but it felt good at the same time. Hearing that you have done good, that you have made him proud, it sort of drives you. It keeps you going. It gives you the motivation to care.

"A bath sound good." You state. It wasn't always easy to let someone take care of you, but right now, it felt right. It was going to be a good night and everything in your body told you that. Roman didn't hesitate, he takes your hand and helps you to the bathroom, making sure that you have fresh clothes and a big, clean, fluffy towel to dry off with. You are a good girl, and he was going to make sure you know it. After all, he's not the type of man to slack.

[ilongfor-the-arts]

Just read the museum marquis fic and I love it. I wonder what would a fanfic where the marquis de gramont met a ballerina reader?

Poetry in Motion

Pairing: Marquis de Gramont x fem! Reader

Warnings: mild language

Summary: A tall and handsome man has been watching you preform for a while. What will happen when he finally chooses to introduce himself?

Word Count: 2.5k

I got multiple reqs for this! So, here ya go! Enjoy!

“You’re late Y/N!”

I dashed into the locker room, tossing my bag atop the dressing room counter.

“I know! I know! I’m really sorry! My apartment door wouldn’t lock and there was traffic and then-”

My director held up a hand, silencing me.

“I don’t care. Please-just, be ready to go by showtime.”

I nodded vigorously.

“Yes, yes, of course. I will be ready, I promise.”

She quickly turned on her heels and began walking in the opposite direction. Her blue dress swayed gently as the dancers rushed around her. Her spine was straight, her posture rigid.

I don’t blame her. I'm just as nervous as everyone else to see how this performance goes. Unfortunately, I'm a dancer, so rigid posture isn't ideal. I'm forced to keep my anxiety bottled up inside my head.

“Y/N.”

My friend called my name, jolting me from my trance. She was fully dressed, with a full face of makeup. She stared at me, completely stunned.

“Y/N, you better hurry! Everyone else is ready to go!”

I moved rapidly, quickly opening my makeup bag, praying I had enough time.

“What took you so long?”

I slapped my palms against the table, annoyed.

“Oh, Clara, it’s been such an aggravating day.”

I stared at my reflection, watching as the foundation completely coated my face.

“Do tell.”

I took out my eye makeup.

“Well, first my apartment wouldn’t lock.”

I closed one eye and applied eyeshadow as quickly as I could.

“My key wouldn’t work! And of course I couldn’t just leave my apartment unlocked so I had to bother my neighbor to get the spare key I gave her.”

I moved on to the other eye.

“Then there was so much traffic. Then I couldn’t find a good parking spot because I got here so late. Then I had to walk almost six blocks.”

My eye makeup looked... alright. Sure, if I had an extra hour, I could make it look fantastic. But, due to my unfortunate situation, I had to settle for average.

“Wow girl, that’s rough. I’m sorry.”

I pulled out my blush.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I think that cute guy will be here tonight.”

I scoffed loudly.

“He’s always here. If he goes four days without seeing a ballet, just assume he’s dead.”

Oh my goodness, that blush color was really clashing with my eyeshadow. Shit! I didn't have time to remove it and start over. Perhaps I could just add another color to my eyes, creating a strange hybrid color that would blend well with the blush.

“I don’t know Y/N. I’ve been here longer than you, and he only started going regularly once you got here.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Yeah, right. It’s probably just a coincidence. I doubt he’d spend a shit ton of money on fancy ballet tickets just to see some pretty girl dance.”

I watched Clara shrug from the corner of my eye.

“I dunno. He always dresses like he’s ready to meet the queen, and he sits in a box. He doesn’t seem short on funds. He definitely could be the type to buy ballet tickets just to admire you.”

Okay, the blush and eyeshadow looked fine. I could handle "fine." I could work with "fine.”

“I don’t know Clara. You know, when you watch a performance, faces and names blend together because there are so many people on stage. I doubt he picked me out of the crowd and decided I was going to become the object of his affection.”

I put on some red lipstick, trying not to be distracted by the fact that all the dancers I saw in the mirror were fully prepared.

“Besides, a handsome man like that?... he probably has a girlfriend.”

Clara perked up.

“Oh, so you admit you think he’s handsome.”

I rolled my eyes for a second time.

“I mean, come on Clara, look at him!”

Clara let out a loud and obnoxious laugh. My face turned hot. Thankfully, the makeup covered most of the natural pink that had begun to appear on my cheeks.

“Oh my God you have a little crush on him, don’t you!”

I held up my hands in defense.

“I am not having this conversation right now!”

I stood, rushing over to the costume rack.

“I’ve never seen him with a girl Y/N! I think he’s single and ready to mingle!”

Clara’s loud voice drew some attention. I swiveled on my heels and placed a finger to my lips.

“Sh!���

-

The show was finished, and the final bows were taken.

The roar of the crowd washed over me like a wave. I was moved to know that they were all applauding for this performance. As the entire company gathered for one final bow, I observed the crowd's faces contort into bright smiles. I felt moved knowing that at least one person in the audience was thinking about what a wonderful job I did tonight.

I hoped it was the man whose appearance I had grown accustomed to over the past few weeks.

The gold theater sparkled. The red seats gradually vanished as people rose to pay their respects to the performers.

I was unable to avoid glancing around at the various people in the crowd. I started in the box seats, hoping to spot a tall man with a penchant for fashion.

No luck.

My gaze was drawn to the floor seats. I scanned them all as quickly as I could. Maybe he sat closer? If he truly came to see me, it wouldn't hurt to get the best view possible in the front row.

No luck.

I'm not sure why I was so desperate for him to be here. Nonetheless, I felt my heart sink slightly as I considered the possibility that he missed tonight's performance.

We finished with a company bow. We waved goodbye, and quickly scattered off the stage.

“Y/N!”

Clara exclaimed as we walked back to the dressing rooms.

“You did so well! Jesus, I thought for sure you’d be all scattered from coming in late, but you really pulled it off well!”

I didn't notice her hands cutting through the air as she spoke. I didn't even bother looking at her. I kept my head down, stuffing various cosmetics into my black backpack.

“Thanks Clara.”

I said flatly.

“Alright, what’s going on? Who’s got you bummed?”

I grit my teeth.

“He’s not here tonight.”

Clara leaned in.

“What did you say?”

“I said he’s not here tonight!”

I snapped involuntarily. Clara retreated.

“Woah woah, how do you know this?”

“I didn’t see him in the crowd.”

Clara furrowed her brow.

“Come on Y/N, there’s thousands of people in that crowd! There’s no way you could’ve checked every seat for him!”

My lips were pursed. Clara wrapped her hands around my shoulders, soothing me. She leaned into my ear, lowering her voice to a whisper.

“I bet he showed up tonight. And if he didn’t, it was his loss entirely.”

-

The cold Paris air bit at my exposed skin. The chill penetrated my tank top, chilling me to the bone. I drew the sides of my peacoat together, attempting to conceal my torso and thighs from the wind.

I began to stroll, trying to enjoy the lovely Paris evening despite the fact that so much was less than ideal.

After about thirty paces, I was struck by an uneasy sense that someone was watching me. I initially ignored it. There were numerous high-rise apartment buildings. I'm sure that feeling came from being a window away from someone's living space, and the possibility that someone was watching me inadvertently.

I couldn't shake the feeling even after another thirty paces. The buildings in this particular neighborhood were completely dark. That is, everyone was sleeping, and if anyone was watching me, it probably would go unnoticed by bystanders.

I took a peek over my shoulder to ensure my intuition was correct.

About thirty feet behind me was a tall, lanky man in a black coat.

Alright, probably just a coincidence-

Wait.

I did a double take.

Holy shit.

It was the guy from the ballet!

This all is just one big coincidence.

I kept my head down, trying to maintain my composure.

His footsteps became audible. I focused on them, noticing that they were becoming slightly louder with every step.

Shit.

Shit!

God, this guy is a total creep! How could I be so stupid?!

I’m about to get totally kidnapped!

I started to move faster, trying to appear calm despite being aware that my heart was pounding in my ears. My blood rushed to my heart, leaving my face pale and cold.

God, he’s getting closer!

Jesus my stomach is in knots!

“Don’t look so frightened, darling.”

The man’s velvety accent pierced the air like a knife. My heart jumped.

I’m fucked.

“Really, I just want to talk with you.”

No way in hell was I stopping. My calves burned. My eyes were wide. My hands trembled within my pockets.

My chest came into contact with something solid. I stumbled back, looking up.

Oh my goodness, he was right in front of me.

How did he get there without me hearing?

The heat left my body.

I stood, wide eyed and perplexed.

The man's neutral gaze softened as he noticed my anxiety.

“I am very sorry to have frightened you, madame. I am simply a fan wishing to pay my respects.”

He placed a hand on his chest.

“I promise, I mean no harm. There is no reason to be frightened.”

He was considerably taller than me. In two seconds, he could pick me up and throw me into the back of a shady white van.

Nonetheless, his luxurious accent and courteous eyes made me believe he was telling the truth. So I allowed myself to relax ever so slightly.

“Did you come and see the show tonight?”

A smirk played on the corners of his lips.

“But of course. It would be foolish of me to disregard the opportunity to observe such talent.”

Wow, I'm going to give credit where credit is due. He’s a smooth talker. He speaks with such elegance. I'm unable to ignore his words. With bated breath, I await each sentence.

“Well, that is very kind of you to say.”

He slipped his hands into the pockets of his black overcoat, shrugging nonchalantly.

“I only convey the complete truth. In my lifetime, I have seen hundreds of ballets, operas, and plays. It is uncommon to find such a passion for the arts in the hearts of the prefromers. Few people allow creativity to encompass every aspect of them. But, I have noticed fire within you.”

He glanced deeply into my eyes, as if he wanted to capture some of the "fire" within me and preserve it for himself.

“I can tell by the way you dance and command the stage.”

The gentle breeze rustled the end of his overcoat as his pale eyes shone in the pale moonlight. He exuded a sense of mystery that beckoned me to embrace the unknown.

“Your blood runs red with creativity.”

He came to a halt, his piercing gaze catching my lips before darting back to my eyes.

“And, your beauty is unmatched.”

Forget about my face being cold; it was now scorching hot. I just hope I kept enough blush on my cheeks to hide the natural pink.

He extends his leg, the buckle of his pricey loafer catching the moonlight. He steps closer, the wonderful aroma of whiskey and bergamot wafting into my nose. The scent cloud muffles my brain, making me dizzy with anticipation.

“How long have you been dancing for?”

I raise my eyebrows.

“Oh, well, my entire life. I started the moment I could walk and I’ve pretty much been in the dance studio everyday since.”

The enigmatic man nodded, pleased with my response. I took my hands from my pockets, as they were sweating despite the chill.

“And… Do you enjoy it?”

I nodded vigorously.

“Yes, I remember, um-.”

I took a deep breath, careful not to trip over my words and reveal that my heart was racing.

“I remember my first official dance class. I was- about four or five.”

I swallowed, a lump forming in my throat.

“All the kids were complaining. I mean, y’know, at that age it basically is just an excuse for the parents to get their obnoxious kids out of the house.”

He chuckled.

Yes!

“But I never complained, not once. I loved it from the start. And, it’s completely consumed my life since then.”

He took another step forward. The distance between us was almost non-existent now. To meet his gaze, I had to almost completely crane my neck back.

“I can tell. You don’t just dance, you float over the stage. It really is beautiful to watch.”

His voice dropped to a sultry whisper.

“You are beautiful to watch.”

My stomach flipped.

My breath caught in my throat as he cupped my face with his hand. His grip was gentle, as if he were coddling a baby bird.

My mind was empty, a void waiting to be filled by him.

He exhaled deeply, a breath fanning over my face. I instinctively leaned into him, craving his warmth, craving his scent, craving…

Him.

He ran his calloused thumb along my cheekbone. My face was burning. I knew he could feel it beneath his palm.

He grinned.

“You have a very bright future in the arts. Paris is only the beginning.”

I could sense the tension rising. I was on the edge of my seat, waiting for something magnificent to unfold.

A hug?

A proclamation of love?

A kiss?

“I hope and pray that you will allow me to be an integral component of your bright future.”

He slipped something into my empty pocket sneakily. He smiled broadly. My heart skipped a beat. His smile was enticing, so simple yet so effective.

“Call me, Ma chère.”

He took a step back, turned, and began to stroll away. My shoulders loosened. My chest gave way. My cheeks had lost their warmth. The tension had been released.

I could breathe.

I could think.

“Wait!”

I shouted. He glanced over his shoulder.

His figure looked very intriguing. Most of his ridges and curves were hidden by his long coat. It enticed one to venture into uncharted territories.

“What’s your name?”

He scoffed.

“When you call, I will tell you.”

[psychwxrdd]

tag, you're it

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

summary: roman's obsession grows to extreme points.

warnings: dark! roman (lol as if he wasn't dark himself), horror themes, kidnap, obsession, stalking, i just listened to this song after YEARS and i got so many memories from roman fmv's with melanie martinez songs 😭 honestly so nostalgic. also i'm still writing the chapters for the collector series and the requests y'all send me, i'll write all of them, i'm really trying my best to write in all the small free moments i have!! but i promise it's gonna be all done babes 💕

There she was, again. My sweet girl. My reason to breathe. She was heading to school, still very early in the morning, the sky still looked a bit dark. It was winter, it felt like the most cold in months, years even.

She couldn't be real. It didn't looked real. I've never seen anything quite this beautiful, i didn't knew anything could ever look this beautiful. Didn't knew any human being could be so ethereal. Her gorgeous face covered by almost no makeup at all, i would guess she had mascara on, at the most. Her cheeks and the tip of her nose looked pink due to the weather. Her hair looked so beautiful, healthy, shiny... I would die for a touch. She looked so sweet, so cute with the warm clothes around her, her scarf giving a "out of a movie" look. Actually, with or without scarf, she naturally had that look. Something out of a fairytale, too good to be true.

I was watching from inside the car, she probably couldn't even tell there was a person in it since my windows are dark enough. My hands were shaking a bit, but not from cold.

I had to do this. Had to have her, needed to. There was no other option, i'd much rather die than live a life where she's not mine forever.

God, she would look so gorgeous covered in blood.

"Hey! Good morning, Y/n!" I smiled, when she pass near to my door. My heart was running out of rhytm, i thought i would faint at any second. I knew she would cry, i knew i would ruin her life, i knew all of this. I knew nothing would stop me, tho.

"Hi Roman!" she smiled brightly, making me melt inside. Such a doll. I want to see this smile till my last breath. She would grow to love me back at some point too, i know. Her scent filled the air and it got me intoxicated, god, she belonged to me.

"You're heading to school?"

"Yeah!"

"Wanna a cab?"

She stared at the other side of the street, wondering what she should answer. What a good girl.

"C'mon we go to the same school, it's on my way already" I winked, with the sweetest smile i could do.

"Ok." she agreed, with a shy smile. I almost passed out with excitment, opening the door for her.

"I have some candy, if you want"

"I'd love one!"

I grabbed some and gave it to her soft hands. I was so happy to know that i could touch her soft skin forever from now on.

Didn't took long for her head to fall into my shoulder. There you go. My sweet girl.

[mynameis-noe-body]

Okay, for marquis de gramont we can get reallll toxic. Both the reader and Vincent are angry with each other and are tying to make one another jealous at the event. Because they’re very kinda delulu and possessive they kill the people they're using to make the other jealous and confess their feelings

Thank you so much for this request, my dear anon. I hope you'll love this. 🖤

I am your slave

Marquis Vincent Bisset de Gramont × you (F/GN)

Rating: Teen & Up Audience

Status: Complete (one shot)

Author notes: I used Google translate for the Russian and French sentences. Let me know if it's incorrect!

Obviously. You muttered the word under your breath, chewing its bitter taste, testing its sound on the tip of your tongue as you watched, disarmed, as the Marquis made his triumphal entrance.

The most influential families of the High Table had gathered at the Hotel Mademoiselle de Condé for a gala and business evening. Those weren't rare events, but that didn't make them any less sumptuous. Money flowed freely, as did the champagne, the drugs, the caviar. And the lovers. Yes, they were purchasable too. Women and men of supreme beauty, unattainable, sometimes sons and daughters who were given away, exchanged, lent — everything, in exchange for favors.

But the Marquis — Vincent — never had to ask anyone for anything.

With a gallant gesture he opened the door of his 1970 Cadillac DeVille and offered his arm to a woman. And not yet another high-class whore that he would have refused to touch even with the tip of his little finger, no. The woman who accompanied him that evening was a creature of rare beauty, perhaps someone's protégé. Perhaps his protégé. She was graceful, elegant, she flaunted a cascade of golden curls that would make Venus herself envious. And you, you felt flooded with anger.

"Champagne" you ordered, snapping your fingers. They served you immediately. You too had your power, and you had never hidden it. You knew, deep down, that it was one of the things that attracted him. Your shy elegance fiercely contrasted the anger that could ignite in your heart. The strength of your hands, the fury in your eyes, the power you wielded ruthlessly. Yet, in his arms and in his bed, you were capable of the deepest love, the most total devotion. He was bewitched by it, and inebriated. Therefore, he loved to instigate every jealousy in you, just to have you desperate at the end of the night.

Vincent didn't even glance at you. He shook dozens of hands, ordered food and drinks, laughed with his colleagues and friends. And he ignored you. At least until, from the door of the luxurious hotel, taking off his Armani coat and handing the keys of his Ferrari Portofino to the doorman, Mr. D'Antonio entered.

"Santino!" you exclaimed, with a smile so bright it lighted the entire dining room. Many turned, if only for a moment, to watch you gallop towards the man, with a hem of your beautiful dress grasped between your fingers to reveal crystal heels that echoed off the walls.

Santino opened his arms, and welcomed you with a loud kiss on the cheek. "Meraviglia! Look at you — beautiful, you are beautiful."

Santino was warm, welcoming, purely Italian. And charming, in every aspect of his person. He knew how to make any woman feel like the most beautiful in the world. He gallantly offered you his arm and ordered for you. His laugh was loud, contagious. His exuberant nature amused you. You had been friends for years now. You had worked together, sometimes — often you had worked for him. And he appreciated you. He was generous in his payments. And above all, Vincent was morbidly jealous, because D'Antonio had no qualms about making blatant advances on you, even in front of all those people.

Vincent was daydreaming about murder. God, how he hated him. And yes, he had planned to take that beautiful Parisian home with him, one of the new acquisitions of his organization, now that he saw you... you were his favorite. Oh, bullshit — you were the only one. Since he had met you he had no longer been able to keep faith with his numerous lovers. One by one, they had extinguished his desire, and you had ignited his. Or they were fallen dead, because you killed them. Many of them, to be honest. And every time he learned of one of your murders, his desire to possess you — body and soul — violently took hold of him. He didn't want to give in, not that easily. But now he understood how difficult it was to resist you, while your hand caressed the muscular shoulder of that penniless Italian. That coward. The mere thought that you could enjoy yourself under his fingers made him vomit — so much that he poured what was left of the wine into the boulle and twisted his mouth in a grimace of disgust.

With my bare hands, he thought. He crossed his legs and wrapped himself in his double-breasted jacket, brooding. I want to kill him with my bare hands around his neck. He would have done it. He was Vincent Bisset de Gramont, the Marquis and he could do whatever the fuck he wanted. He could have attached Santino D'Antonio to a pole and set him on fire to make him feel a tenth of the physical pain with which, due to that jealousy, he himself was now burning.

The young woman he had brought with him caressed his face. Or at least, she tried. But he grabbed her wrist before she could touch his cheek. He looked at her with the same hatred. "Go take off that lipstick" he hissed, through clenched teeth. "You look ridiculous."

She obeyed, humiliated, and reached the bathroom. Of course, she didn't expect to meet you anytime soon.

As soon as you saw her walking away towards the toilet, you took your chance, followed her and closed the door behind you with a sharp slam, waiting for her right there, outside her niche. She, surrounded by that shiny hair, those brilliant eyes, those scarlet lips, had raised a single eyebrow in an inquisitive manner.

"And you are?" she asked, passing a cloth over her lips, cleaning them from that bright color.

You inhaled deeply. "You know who I am."

She allowed herself an amused smile. "Ah," she had commented, smugly, "nomer dva."

You thought that, before speaking, she should have made sure that you didn't speak Russian.

▪️▪️▪️

"Dance with me." Vincent took your hand, intertwined his fingers with yours and dragged you before you could respond, or refuse.

He had chased you as soon as you left the bathroom. The Marquis had immediately noticed your flushed chest, your freshly washed hands, your disheveled hair pulled back with a mechanical gesture of your hand, your pupils as narrow as pinpricks. Magnificent. On the dance floor, he had first twirled you once, before grabbing you and holding you against his chest; one hand — the right one — on your back, the lower part, the other intertwined with yours and pressed against his chest, on the beating of his heart. And his face in the corner between your neck and your shoulder.

You huffed, trying to maintain composure. "They're all watching us" you whispered in his ear. He smiled against your skin. "You'll make us look ridiculous in front of the High Table."

"Mon amour. I am the High Table." Vincent left the ghost of a kiss on your neck before making you sway in his arms. Another pirouette, and there you are again in his inevitable grip. "I could order half the men in this room to lick the floor where you walk, and they would do it for me."

You barely held back a small smile. "I can not stand you." But you settled a little more against his chest. The soft, slow music lulled you gently. "And what do you think of Santino? Would he kneel for you too?"

His nails dug into your side, making you flinch. You met his icy eyes in mid-air. So cold, so beautiful. "The Italian. That's it then, you like him."

"He's a charming man."

"He is rude, and vulgar. So pompous."

"And you're not?"

You almost heard him growl. Vincent shot a terrible look at D'Antonio, across the room, who was watching you swing on the dance floor with dark, annoyed eyes.

"You shouldn't be here with me" you added, coldly. "Your woman? Where is she?"

He laughed heartily. "Oh, please. We both know she won't make it out of that bathroom alive. How long did it take you to kill her?"

But you didn't answer. You never responded to his curiosity... it was your game.

Vincent grinned. The kiss on your neck now became passionate. You felt his soft lips caress your skin from your bare shoulder to the tip of your chin with five deep, intense kisses. "You drive me crazy."

This time, you smiled happily. "You are sick."

Vincent looked deadly serious, hovering over you, his back straight and tall to tower over your beautiful figure. "I will have monsieur D'Antonio's raw heart served to me on a silver platter. I will kidnap you, lock you in a dungeon, make you die of hunger and thirst if necessary — anything, as long as you admit the truth."

He was scary. Exciting. Terrifying. Beautiful. You blushed, panting slightly. "What truth? What the hell are you talking about?"

He smiled. He leaned down and whispered in your ear. "That you love me, mon amour."

"I —" yes, you loved him. And you loved the way he made you feel. You loved that hateful jealousy you felt for him, and that he felt for you. You caressed his face with an unexpected sweetness. Your eyes were large, languid. Vincent felt his whole body tremble like never before... "I'll tell you. Not now, though. Tomorrow morning. Now, take me home, and make love to me."

He stopped. He smiled, looking younger than he was. So happy. With a ridiculous low bow, he offered you his hand. "Je suis ton serviteur."

[kruegerslov3r]

idk but bill and simon have the same energy to me.

[obexes]

CATALYSIS

PT. II

R.C x READER • R.G x READER

Warnings: Smut, Self-Sabatoging Reader, Manipulation, Small Amount Of Dub-Con (Fucking Rafe), Underaged Drinking, fingering

A/N: The next part will be longer, and this might end up being 10 parts bc the plot, oh I'm gonna let it cook. I tried to get this out ASAP, while juggling too much other shit. My mental health is sickly, so enjoy my degenerate fantasies. Feedback is so appreciated and encouraging y'all :)

Word Count: 7.5 K

Sundays were always your favourite thing about your parents being home. The smell of Italian sausage and carbonara had summoned you from your room to the living room, where your family sits spread out around the large room, with their dinner plates.

When you and Nicky were kids, your Mom would lose it if she caught you guys on the eggshell coloured living room carpet with anything darker than water. Ever since Henley and Patton were old enough to eat on their own, your dad has enforced mandatory family time, which was simply eating dinner while watching a movie together on Sundays.

To be fair, despite all the travelling, they tried really hard to be home every Sunday. You took your spot at the coffee table and picked up the only unoccupied plate.

“I’m feeling Marvel tonight.” Nicky commented, twirling his fork around in his pasta. “Or maybe Disney?”

“Turning Red!” “Inside out!” Your younger brothers both called out simultaneously. You bite the inside of your cheek to stifle a chuckle as your mom warily eyes the excited kids, or more accurately, the food balanced on their laps. She’s hopeless, you think freely.

“I’m thinking we should watch Euphoria. Bring some real world problems into this oasis.” you comment, earning a look from your Mom as well. Your older brother's idiot laugh doesn't go unnoticed.

Your Dad raises his wine glass to his lips. “I don't feel like having a stroke at 39. Peter Pan and Wendy it is.” Despite the child-like film, you all cheer as he hits play. Finally you start to dig into the meal your Mom, with the help of little Patton, made.

After you all finish eating, your dad pauses the film. You and Nicky carry the dishes to the dishwasher, load and start it, before making your way back to the living room. Your parents are curled up together and you take the spot on the other side of your dad, while he wraps an arm around you, the boys pile up on the mountain of blankets covering the floor.

As he plays the movie, you find your mind wandering to last night. To what you did in the hot tub at Tanneyhill. To Rafe fucking Cameron. Part of you felt guilty about messing with Roman’ s cousin and lying to your Mom, but the other part of you was burning. Burning to feel his hands on you again, burning to feel that intense pleasure over and over, and burning to know more. And then there was an even smaller part that wanted to know what such an intimate thing would feel like with Roman.

Even though you were still pissed at him for a number of reasons. You never made it back to Rafe’s room last night.

⊱✿⊰

“You're sleeping in my room tonight, gorgeous girl.”

You giggle quietly as he opens the back door and carries you the few steps across the kitchen, to plop you down on the island. “Want some water or something?”

You swing your legs back and forth, feeling the effects of the alcohol you'd been consuming since you got here. “Yes, please.” You turn your head momentarily towards the doorway as you hear light footsteps upstairs. You brush it off, enjoying your inebriated break from everyone else in the world but the man who just made you cum on his lap.

Rafe grabs two waters and comes back to stand between your legs. He moved nervously, you noted. He looked at you, like really looked at you, as he handed you a water bottle. “You okay? How are you feeling after... well- after everything tonight?”

“I'm good, Rafe. I had.. fun.” You reassure him with a small smile, unsure how to phrase it but wanting to reassure him. Which is still more than Roman bothered to do for you.

He gives you his signature panty dropping, schoolboy smirk. His tone is still nervous, however. “So it was okay? I mean, that it was me?” He slides his hands up your thighs coming to rest them on your hips. You could feel a flush of heat creeping up from where he’d just touched your thighs making its way all the way to your cheeks.

“Yes, Rafe.” You manage to say. His touch is intoxicating, his eyes captivating. You find your arms wrapping around his neck, hands burying themselves in his soft, dark blonde hair. “It was better than okay.”

He leans in to plant a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips before leaning back slightly and catching your eye. You tug him towards you and his lips meet yours devotedly. He pulls you closer to the edge, your bodies meeting again, chest to chest. He bites your swollen bottom lip and separates from you only to tilt his head and kiss you even deeper.

His hands move to grip the sides of your ass and you whine against his lips, causing him to grip you harder. Still chasing the feeling he gave you outside, you push your crotch against his as best as you can from your place on the counter.

“Y/N.” He keens,”I'm never gonna get enough of you.” Rafe buries his face in your neck, leaving warm and wet kisses, leaving his hands to grope your sides.

Lost in the lust washing over you, you both hear the telltale pad of multiple pairs of feet, too late.

“Oh shit” A giggle. “Dude!” Disgust.

“What the fuck?” Anger.

Your head whips over to see three shocked teens standing at the entrance of the kitchen with varying reactions. Rafe slowly lifts his head but doesnt look away from you. Your mouth opens and closes, floundering for words. You look between the three and Rafe as you push him away and jump off of the counter.

Nicky and Mia are slowly starting to snicker, but Roman is just staring at you with disbelieving eyes. The other girl is nowhere to be seen.

“Okay, now this. This makes more sense.” Nicky laughs, referring to this morning when your parents caught you and Roman in your bed, asleep.

“Looks like you have a date to midsummers now, Y/N.” Mia comments with a raised brow.

You remain frozen, aside from your bottom lip wobbling and you biting it in a second attempt to keep your tears at bay tonight. How many times can one girl be humiliated in a day? You don't even want to look back at Romans face.

Rafe eyes your wobbly lip and reaches for you, tugging your hand into his. “Hey, wanna go to sleep now?”

“What the fuck is this? What's happening right now?” You look up from your entwined hands, at Romans dubious tone.

“Roman-”

“Come outside, Y/N.” He walks past you both, through the doors you just entered from, ignoring Mia calling his name on the way out.

You inhale a deep shaky breath. Your brother casts Mia a clueless, questioning glance, which she ignores as she's focused on examining you and Rafe. “I should...” You trail off as Rafe squeezes your hand softly, meeting his eyes.

“Its okay. I'll talk to him later, yeah?” He places a quick peck to your head.

“Y/N, what's going on? I feel like I'm missing something.” Your brother comments quizzically.

Rafe moves to usher them out of the kitchen, “Later , man.” You hear him mutter quietly to Nicky, who meets your gaze one more time before turning back to the den area. Mia lingers a second as you squeeze and shake your hands out, nervously.

“He’s never gonna get it together. Not for you, princess. Listen to Rafe, maybe that way you can stop stepping on people's toes and you won't get hurt.” Mia says the words quietly, but her tone of voice makes it clear that it's a threat. She smiles at you and follows in the direction of two older boys, while you do your best to ignore her and choke down all of the unpleasant feelings building up and make your way to the patio doors.

When you open the door, you immediately see Roman sitting on the porch swing with his head back, looking up at the sky with his usual pout. He doesn't move, or say anything so you walk over to him and sit down. Anxiety wracks your body, as you prepare to inevitably have an uncomfortable encounter with the bipolar boy you called your best friend.

You risk a glance at him and are alarmed to see moisture pooling in his eyes, “Roman.” You whisper. “Hey, I-”

“What was that?” He sits up and turns to face you.”Just- what the hell was that?”

Your eyes widen a little at the intensity of his behaviour. He takes one of your hands in his and looks at you expectantly. “Was that just you guys being dumb, or was that -” He stutters for a second and then takes a deep breath. “Or was that something more?”

“I dont know.” The truth, you were too drunk to decipher your current feelings toward Rafe.

“What?” He scoffs. “I just caught you making out with my cousin,Y/N, and youre saying you don't know why?” He drops your hand, and faces forward, rubbing his eyes in frustration. Your eyes narrow at him. He was the one who'd failed to verbally recognize the fact that something definitely happened between you two. He's been avoiding it hardcore for the past month or so.

“No, Roman, I don't. Besides, you didn't catch me doing anything.” You snap. “The word ‘catch’ implies that i’m in trouble, and I can do whatever I fucking want, technically. Nobody else seems to give a damn about my feelings.” You run your hands through your messy hair. Maybe you shouldn't have thrown that in his face but at the moment, he was pissing drunk you off.

The lanky boy looks at you with ferocity lurking beneath his incredulous expression. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Use your fucking context clues.” You cuss back.

He just stares at you as you attempt to avoid looking him in the eyes. For a second it seems like he's going to finally acknowledge the kiss you shared, weeks ago. You see the recognition in his features for a fraction of a second before he’s up, pacing. “You're ridiculous. Seriously, if you think Rafe is gonna commit to you, or treat you well for that matter.”

Your mouth falls open in shock when you hear Rafes name come out of Romans mouth. He didn't just blatantly deflect the topic of conversation, did he? Bastard.

“Jesus, have you lost your mind? You know what kind of person he is, Y/N. I thought you were smarter than that.” He pinches the bridge of his nose as he spews his bullshit.

You take his dramatic, silent irritation as an invitation to add fuel to the fire, fed up with his week-long diversions from the underlying issue in your friendship. “Yeah, well, at least he didn't kiss me and then pretend it never happened.” You stand up and cross your arms defiantly.

Roman sighs a deep, shaky breath of air. “Y/N... Jesus. You really wanna do this, huh?” You look up, toeing the area of grass you'd just been staring at. His face, his eyes, his whole demeanour are pleading with you to stop. “It was my first kiss, Roman.”

He shuts his eyes for a second and you watch as his breathing becomes a little heavier. When he opens them, he starts toward your teary eyed figure but you step back and he stops in his tracks. “Y/N, i'm so sorry. I didn't know that.”

You nod, tears spilling over your waterline and cascading down your cheek into the ground. Where you wish you could disappear. You ignore the pain in your heart. You ignore the way this feels like a friendship ending argument. You ignore his own tears as they begin to meet yours in the soil.

“I know.” You sniffle, you didn't want to punish him. You don't even know what you want from this conversation. This isn't a good idea, you're drunk. You can't ignore the wave of anxiety that hits you, completely out of nowhere. “I just can't do this, Rome.”

You start to back up, but he follows you. “Do what?”

You squeeze your eyes shut and uncross your arms to instead wrap them around yourself. After a breath, you open them. Roman looks regretful. “Do what,Y/N?”

Be your friend, Is what you wanted to say.

“I can't see you right now.” Is what you say.

You turn around before he has time to see your face completely crumble. Panic, anxiety, and heart ache all fight for dominance over the sob working its way up your throat. You swallow it down and go find Nicky. You wouldn't be staying in Rafes room tonight.

⊱✿⊰

By the end of the movie, your two youngest siblings are asleep. With Olivia having every Sunday off, you and Nicky fold up the blankets quietly talking about the film. Meanwhile, your Parents had each carried a sibling to bed to be tucked in. You grab a stack of blankets and carry them into the hall to put away in the linen closet. When you come back to the living room, your Mom is refilling your parents wine glasses, preparing to watch another movie with your Dad.

Nicky makes eye contact with you and widens his eyes slightly, insinuating something up.

“Ah, the gangs all here. Good. Sit.” Your Dad walks into the den and clasps his hands quietly.

You and Nicky both sit down on a loveseat near the front door and exchange a look. Your parents only do these little meetings to drop big news.

“So, nothing major but Wednesday night you're both expected to be home early for dinner. We're having guests over and there's a surprise involved.”

Nicky groans,”Mom, please. If you're pregnant again, I'm getting emancipated.”

You scoff out a laugh at your brother's blatant statement, before covering it up as a cough when you get a look from your Mom.

“Dominique.” Your father deadpans. “If your mom is pregnant, I’ll take you all and run. It isn't that.”

Your mom downs her wine. “This is why they don't have respect, Joseph.”

Your Dad gives her a warm grin and wraps her up under his arm. “Like I said, just be home early for dinner. Understood?”

You and Nicky ultimately agree without too much prying for details. After bidding your Parents goodnight, you both make your way upstairs. Your brother stops at your door as you enter your room and leans against the doorframe. “So....” He trails off and you roll your eyes as you search through your dresser for a large Tshirt, settling on one that Roman left here.

“Yes, Nicky?”

“What happened last night? I saw you mackin’ on Rafe but why was Roman so mad?” He walks further into your room and plops on your bed.

“Nicky!” You whine, batting at him with the t-shirt in your hands. “Get the hell off my blankets, you went outside in that outfit!”

It's Nicky's turn to roll his eyes at your rules, as he dramatically rolls off of your bed onto a pile of laundry on the floor, stretching out like a starfish. “Whatever. So what happened? I noticed that you stayed at the house all day. And kinda have been for a while.” He adds.

You let out a dramatic sigh of despair and slide down your dresser so that you're sitting facing your bed. “I’m so dumb, Nicky. I think I fucked up.”

He sits up on his elbows, facing you. “Wait, what? What's the matter?”

You contemplate telling him everything for a moment. What's the worst that could happen? Then you think back to the last time you asked yourself that question, and any ideas of total honesty dissipate. “I don't know...” and then, you remember. “What did you mean when you said that me and Rafe made sense?”

He sits up all the way and musses his hair. “I don't know, I was drunk, Y/N. I guess I always just assumed you’d rebel against Mom and Dad. Rafe would make sense for that. More sense than your childhood best friend.”

"Me and Rafe are friends, too.” You point out, although you know it's not the same.

“Not like you and Roman.”

You contemplate this quietly. Nicky comes over to where you're sitting and plants himself beside you.

“Listen sis, I don't know what the hell is going on, but you can tell me if I need to kick someone's ass. I won't ask questions.”

You shake your head sadly. ”It's not like that. I just did a dumb thing and now I have to live with it.”

Your older brother stands up and ruffles your hair. “Well, that's nothing new, is it? Goodnight Y/N/N.”

“Goodnight, Nicky.”

He shuts your door and you change into your shirt before turning on your fan and hopping in bed.

After about 15 minutes of staring at your ceiling, trying to make sense of your feelings, you were over it. You were agonising over whether or not to check your phone for a text from Roman and beating yourself up over what happened with Rafe. You flip over and grab the TV remote. Deciding to listen to something scary, you settle on a rerun of the Paranormal Activity films and turn back over, letting the TV lull you to sleep.

Not 10 minutes later, when you're almost out like a light, does your phone begin ringing quietly on the nightstand. You register the noise and flail under the covers, frustratedly. You snatch your phone up and accept the call, barely registering the name on the screen.

“What?” You almost growl.

“Wow, hello to you too, beautiful.” Rafe’s deep voice rings through the speaker.

“Do not disturb means do not disturb, not call twice, Rafe.” You can't help your tone, your anxiety keeps you up most nights, and you were so close to ending the night on a good note, moments before.

“I'm sorry, I’d take any option that guaranteed your attention.” He laughs.” Did I wake you up?”

“Yes actually.” You sigh, readjusting your covers from the flail. “Did you need something?” “Can I come over?”

“Seriously, Rafe? Its-” You pull your phone away from your cheek and look at the time, faltering.

“Only 9 P.M.? Exactly.” You can hear his smug face over the phone. “So?”

You feel queasy at the thought of seeing Rafe, despite being so explicit with him the night before. It felt like a betrayal to Roman in a way because you two hadn’t spoken since the fight last night where he expressed his disapproval of Rafe and you together. Although a small part of you doesn't care about his opinion, after his blatant disregard for your feelings.

“I don't think that's a great idea, Rafe, my parents are awake downstairs.” You try.

He’s quiet for a second, and then there's an incoming facetime from him. You answer the call and you see Rafe sitting up, shirtless, against his headboard. He has to fight his smile, seeing you laying on your side, hair cascading around your shoulder like a waterfall of curls.

“Is it because of last night?”

You mentally smack yourself for answering a call where he can see your face. Rafe always knew when you were lying. When you guys were 12 and 13, you covered for him when he broke one of Wards Golf awards and he figured out that you had a tell. You couldn't make eye contact.

“W-what?”

“The real reason you don't want to see me.” He says in a bored tone. “Is it because of Roman?”

“No.” You roll your eyes.

“Dont lie to me, Y/N.” The dominant tone he's taking right now has you rethinking your previous statements.

“Fine, yeah. It Is, Rafe.” Pulling the covers up to your chin. “He’s one of my best friends, and you're his cousin. It feels weird that things are like this. I can't stop thinking about that stupid fight.”

You hear shuffling on Rafe’s end and then the sound of keys.

“What are you doing?”

“I'm comin over.” You start to protest but he cuts you off. “I'm gonna take your mind off of it.”

He ends the call and you're left staring at the screen dumbfounded. Now that he’s ended the call, you see a whole slew of texts and missed calls from John B and Kie, and even JJ asking you to join in on the boat day they had today. Nothing from Roman. He was usually always the first to cave after an argument, seeking you out almost every time. The lack of contact, admittedly worried you.

You sigh, sitting up in bed now. There are so many questions swirling around in your head. What was Roman thinking about? Was he still angry with you? What was Rafe thinking about? Was he going to try something? How were you supposed to hide yet another boy in your room without invoking your Mothers anger? More importantly though, how did you look right now?

You spring up and run to the ensuite bathroom. Your hair, once pinned up with a claw clip, now falls loosely around you with flyaway curlies everywhere and you wore only Roman’s T Shirt and a pair of boy short panties as makeshift PJs. You pull your clip out and stare at the excess tendrils of hair falling around you, trying to finger comb them down.

“Is it even worth it, for real?” You ask yourself as you eye the brush that would no doubt make your situation worse. Deciding that, no, it isn't worth it, you grab your mouthwash and gargle a mouthful before spitting it out, rinsing your mouth, and washing your face.

Back in your room, you realise how hot and stuffy it is. You unlock the balcony doors that face the ocean, so that Rafe can get inside. Then you pad across the floor and unlatch your bedroom window, going to open it for the breeze but nearly screaming out loud as it's pushed open, seconds later. “Ahh!”

Rafes hand shoots out to cover your mouth as he precariously balances himself between your windowsill and the branch he's perched on. He gives you an exasperated look. “Jesus, I literally live 5 minutes away. Move.”

You clutch your chest and take a step back just as he pushes off of the branch and pulls himself through the window. “Why didn't you just climb onto the balcony, you could've fallen.” You comment as he steadies himself.

Rafe examines your face, stepping closer. “Your Mom had all the trees near it cut down, remember?”

You’d forgotten about that. As soon as you turned 15 your Mom had to escape-proof your room because of an incident involving a party, a week prior. Which included cutting down the trees near your balcony and removing the garden trellis that crept up right beside it, leaving only an old oak tree beside the window that was across from your bedroom door. “Oh, right.”

You back up and sit on the edge of your bed, patting the spot next to you. Rafe pushes his hair off of his forehead as he takes a seat. The sound of the movie playing is all that can be heard as you both quietly observe each other. He looks really good in his simple blue tee and basketball shorts, and you can't help the natural, girly giddiness you feel.

“You look really pretty.” he starts.

Letting out a small laugh, “Shut up. I look like I was about to go to sleep. You look good though.” You go to smack his chest playfully, but he catches your hand.

“You're still the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever seen.”

Your heart flutters a little at his words, but you quell it and withdraw your hand slowly. One thing Rafe and his cousin had in common was their notoriety as two of the island's biggest playboys. “Don't say things you don't mean, Rafe.”

Rafe smiles at you knowingly, yet you don't know why. “Remember when we were like...” He thinks about it. “I was 9 and you were 8. We were playing hide and seek with a bunch of other kids at Olivia’s garden party?” He questions.

You remember. You’d gotten locked into the old outdoor cellar, while trying to use it as a hiding spot. You'd been locked in for what felt like hours as you plotted a way out, the music and ongoing party drowning out your cries. As a kid you remember thinking you’d be down there forever, You nod, telling Rafe to go on.

“You had all the other kids going crazy, we all thought you’d gotten kidnapped but we were too scared to tell anyone.” He chuckles at the memory. “But then you walked around the side of the house covered in dirt and I remember being so happy to see you. Even though you were crying and looked like a mess, running for your parents. You were the prettiest girl to me then. You're still that same girl, now.”

You make a face, scrunching your nose. “Why is my near death experience such a significant memory for you? I could've died, digging that little tunnel under the door.”

“But you didn't.” He laughs, ruffling your hair. “Jesus, you suck at accepting compliments.”

“Yeah, well, you kinda suck at giving them.” You smack his hands away, smoothing your mussed hair. His eyes shoot to your bare legs as your T-shirt rides up. Then they flick up to scrutinise the shirt itself and you wonder if he’ll mention anything about its owner.

Instead he tugs at the hem of it with a sudden mischievous glint in his eyes. “Anything under here?”

You blush. “Rafe, shut up.” You weren't expecting Rafe to be here right now in the first place. In fact, you'd tried to avoid it. Just because you guys got drunk and fooled around didn't mean you suddenly were into Rafe. That's just what teenagers do, right? Yeah, he may look like a god and he always smells good but you didnt wanna risk your friendship with him or Roman further.

“Make me.”

His fingers slip past the hem, teasing their way up your thighs. Your breath hitches in your throat, and you swear you stop breathing. But when his fingers brush too close to your clothed pussy, you snatch at his wrist and he looks up at your face, fingers frozen over your core.

“Rafe, what do you want?”

“Honestly?” You nod, matching his heavy eye contact.

“I just wanna make you feel good, baby. ” He inches his face closer to yours, while you slowly start to forget why you stopped him. “Right now I really want to make you cum on my fingers.” He only breaks eye contact as he presses his lips against yours roughly. You loosen your grip on his wrist, your inhibitions melting at his actions.

He takes the opportunity to press his thumb against your clit, eliciting a soft whine into his mouth. Your breaths mingle together, hearts beginning to race in sync with the electric tension that's filling the air.

Rafe cradles your face gently in one hand, fingertips tracing the delicate lines of your jaw as your tongues swirl against each other. His warm touch causes a shiver to go down your spine and he smirks into the kiss. You feel his heartbeat against your chest as he lowers you onto the bed, his fingers stroking you over your panties.

“Rafe,” You coo against his soft lips. “Keep touching me there.”

“Yeah, Princess? Like this?” Rafe drags his thumb around your clit in circles, increasing the pressure. Your hips grind involuntarily towards his hand as you nod, a moan escaping your lips.

“Shhh, be quiet.” He presses another short kiss to your lips, letting go of your face to yank your shirt up to your belly and focus his gaze on his handiwork.

Rafe continues to tease you, your panties preventing you from feeling his skin. He looks up at you, watching your reaction as he ghosts his fingers over your entrance again. You were suddenly filled with a longing for something more - an indefinable desire that was rooted in your core, and it made you shiver with pleasure.

Rafe smiles smugly as he watches you, his gaze tender yet smouldering. He leans forward and kisses you, your mouths exploring each other with an intensity that takes your breath away. With each kiss, your concerns about Roman faded away, replaced by something new and exciting and unbearably sweet.

When he finally pulls away, Rafe drags his hand away from your pussy to brush lightly against your hips, tracing a gentle line along the curve of your waist. You shiver again, skin prickling with pleasure as he moves his hands lower.

To your surprise his fingers lace between yours, and he gently tugs you towards him. “Do you want me to keep touching you, baby?” You nod desperately, extremely flushed. “Can you keep quiet?”

You nod again and before you can protest his fingers are in your panties. He teases you slowly, and his breathing becomes heavier. You're lost in a world of sensation as his thumb finds your clit again, beginning to create blissful, swirling patterns.

His fingers slowly trail lower, to your entrance, and you can feel your body responding to his touch, almost dripping over his fingers. Your skin is alive with a pleasure you've never felt before.

Rafe groans while you throw your head back as he begins pushing his index and middle fingers inside of you, the stretching sensation too intense for you to take it. You grab at his forearm as he begins pumping his fingers in and out of you, the heat from his touch making you moan.

”W-ait.” You attempt to push his arm away but he holds you in place with his free arm, his pace becoming more insistent. The painful stretch begins to fade into something much more pleasurable.

“Let me make you feel good,Y/N.”

Rafe moves his fingers at a quick pace, repeatedly stroking against your G-spot until you're a whining, moaning mess. As you begin to feel yourself nearing an orgasm, you silently beg him to stop before you could release, as if that would make this any better. Rafe, however, seemed to be enjoying your reaction and continued his assault, his fingers sliding deeper and faster.

You felt your entire body ignite with a pleasure that was both overwhelming and exquisite. Your hands find his shirt and you ball it up in your fists, feeling yourself release, squirting on his hand and your covers. You’re screaming muffled profanities into Rafes palm as your orgasm finally engulfs you. Your body goes limp with relief, your breathing ragged as you lie there, trembling.

Rafe withdraws his fingers and sits up, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. You lay there for a few moments, trying to process what just happened. You felt embarrassed and ashamed, but at the same time, you couldn't deny the pleasure you had just experienced. As you slowly sit up, fixing your panties, Rafe's smirk widens.

"That was quite the experience, hmm?" he says in a smug voice.

You could feel your cheeks flush and you quickly look away, your heart pounding with a mix of emotions. Rafe leans closer and puts his hand on your shoulder, turning you to face him. "Hey, It's okay," he says softly. "You don't have to be embarrassed. I'm just glad I made you feel that good. That was fun right?"

You nodded, your face still flushed with embarrassment. You look away again, not wanting to meet his gaze. ‘It's just that... I didn't expect it to feel that way. I'm kind of overwhelmed. Sorry if that sounds stupid.”

Rafe pulls you into his chest and wraps an arm around you. “It doesn't sound stupid. I get it, I've never seen a girl squirt before, either. I'm sorry if that was too much.”

You roll your eyes, as he can't see you, at his boyish thoughts. "It's fine, Rafe.” You pull away from Rafes hug and stare at your carpet awkwardly. Sensing your hesitance he looks away from you nonchalantly, “You tired?”

Seeing the question as an out, you meet his eyes and nod, feeling the atmosphere in the room change. His smile is small, disappointed. “I'll see you tomorrow then? Or Wednesday?” You furrow your eyebrows. “The dinner that your parents are hosting..?”

You remember your Dads statement earlier, the dinner and the surprise. “Oh, okay yeah. You're coming?”

“Yeah, So are Olivia and Roman.” Rafe replies as he stands up, wiping his cum covered hands on his shorts. You internally cringe at how awkward this interaction is turning out to be. It's your fault, you have to fucking ruin everything. You nod your head as if you aren't mentally cursing yourself out. “But hey, Y/N?”

You meet his expectant stare. “Yeah?”

He kisses your forehead before backing towards your window, smirking as he opens it once again. “I took your mind off of it, didn't I?” And with that he's gone.

⊱✿⊰

He did not, in fact, take your mind off of it.

Two hours later, you're still awake, staring at your ceiling fan trying to drown out the negative thoughts eating you alive. You had a tendency to overthink, and with that came anxiety. The best remedy for your anxiety was alcohol, which not only did you not have access too at the moment, but it also caused you to make dumb bitch decisions, occasionally. You couldn't help but crave it anyways.

You felt incredibly guilty and even ashamed that you let things go that far with Rafe, especially given the fact that he didn't seem to be concerned about your actual feelings about it.

As the minutes go by and sleep evades you, you give up rolling over to pick up your silenced phone. You have a slew of unanswered notifications but one name immediately catches your attention. Sitting up in bed you click on the notification, fast as shit.

45 Minutes Ago

Romeo: Jelli bbeen

Romeo: com to our beecfh

Rome: Plz im srory

Fuck, I'm a horrible person, you instantly hit the call button, knowing that he’s drunk off of his ass. When the call goes to voicemail straight away, you hop out of bed and throw on a pair of shorts and crocs, slipping quietly out of your room determined to go make sure he's okay.

You pause at the top of the stairs, listening for the sound of your parents, when you hear nothing you creep down the carpeted stairs slowly.

FInally reaching the back door, you slide it open as quietly as you can and creep outside. Shutting it behind you, you turn around to walk towards Romans house when you spot a figure, down on the beach, near your family's dock.

You curse under your breath and hurry towards the figure. As you near, you can clearly see Romans broad torso hunched over, one arm laying on his knee holding a bottle of Jack and the other stuck in his extremely messy hair.

“Rome.” You call softly so as not to startle him.

He raises his head slightly, back to you, but doesn't move otherwise. “Jellybean?”

“Yeah... it's me, what's going on Roman?” You put a hand on his shoulder, sitting down beside him. “What are you doing sitting out here? It's almost Midnight.”

Roman looks at you in a mixture of melancholy and clear intoxication. His lips twitch into a slight frown, as if he is going to cry, but only momentarily, before he takes a shot and hands you the bottle. You take it, gratefully. “I needed to see you, talk to you.” He’s slurring, dangerously. ”I really fucking hate what happened yesterday.”

Before you reply you take a shot too, and sigh. “Which part?”

“All of it. I really fucking hated it all, guppy.” He turns towards you, his demeanor slightly more defeated than a minute ago. He was naturally a manic person, but when he was drunk, he went from tough guy to busting out every pet name in the book in hopes of being babied. “Seeing Rafe touch you, seeing you like it.... us fighting.”

Your eyes widen, slightly. “What does that even mean, Roman?

Roman stares at you with his sad green eyes, dejectedly. “I want to fix it. I fucked up and I want to fix it.” He taps the bottle in your hand and you hold eye contact as you take another drink, passing it to him afterwards, him doing the same.

“It's not entirely your fault, Roman.” You let your eyes fall to the sand between you. You hated lying, but you didn't know what was going on in his head and telling him about Rafe being in your room, less than 3 hours ago, would possibly just serve to make him more upset. “I shouldn't have kissed Rafe.” You omit the part about you grinding and cumming on his dick, for Romans sake.

He grabs your hand in his and pulls you to scoot closer, you do. “Ya’guys only kissed cuz’ I never talked to you about us.” he says. “M’ sorry if I hurt you baby. I love you, Y/N. I really fucking love you.” He cups your face, dragging his thumbs across your cheeks.

You hold your breath, deja vu from a few weeks ago hits you square in the chest. This is exactly how he kissed you the first time. You've wanted to hear those words from him for weeks, hoping that he was secretly in love with you too, not while he was this heavily inebriated, however.

You gently grab his hands and squeeze them, lowering them so they are between you both. “Maybe we should talk about this in the morning, bubba?”

Roman's lip starts trembling, barely noticeable, at the nickname. “Y/N, no. You deserve an explanation, please let me explain.” He whines. “I do love you. It wasn't about you.” He looks at your joined hands for a moment before placing a kiss on your knuckles and peering hesitantly up into your eyes.

You couldn't help but want to hear him out. Your heart constricts as he begins speaking in a pained voice. “It's my Mom, Y/N. Shes fucking insane. Do you remember, 9th grade, I was with Allie Mcentyre?”

You nod, pensively. You'd been friends with Allie that year, because she was dating Roman, before she abruptly cut you off. Roman seemed not to care, so you didn't either. “Yeah before she ditched us.”

He grimaces. “She didn't ditch us, Y/N.” You furrow your eyebrows in question. “She was the first girl I ever brought around Mom, and the entire fucking time, she gaslit and- and lied an' manipulated both of us." Roman pauses as he hiccups, and gathers his words. "She would text her cryptic shit from my phone and then delete it so that it seemed like her angry texts were random, she’d tell her that she wasn't good enough for me and me the same. Allie told me she didnt want to see me anymore after my mom told her mom that I’d been having sex with multiple girls at a time.” He chuckles. “I was still a fucking virgin. She just wanted to ruin what I had. I realized she’s only going to let me be with someone that she chooses for me.”

“Roman...” Your mouth opens and shuts while you process your next words. “Im so fucking sorry, that I didnt know about that. That's literally insane.”

Roman chuckles drily, you pull him into a bone crushing hug. “It's okay, I didn't tell you.”

You squeeze him and pull away. "I shouldve been there for you, I'm sorry."

Roman shakes his head, placing a hand back on your cheek, thumb resuming its soft, delicate strokes. “No. I'm so sorry. You didn't deserve the way I treated you. I love you, jellybean, please don't be mad at me.”

You gently press your palm against his hand but this time you don’t remove it. “I could never stay mad at you, Roman. I love you too.” How could you ever be angry with this side of him? Nobody ever gets to see this side but you. The whiskey stupor you were beginning to feel caused you to zero in on the tall boy beside you.

His lazy, responsive smile is so boyish and sweet, it makes you buzz with desire, and briefly you recall wondering what it would feel like to do what you did with Rafe, with Roman instead. They are different in more ways than they were similar. Roman is hard and broken, but his pure heart radiates through the cracks, whereas Rafe was a tried and true asshole, though you had to confess you didn't know him as well as you knew the boy in front of you.

“Y/N?” Roman bites his lip and a slight frown forms between his brows as he glances down at your lips. “Can I kiss you?”

In lieu of answering, you tangle your hands in his hair and pull him to you, desperately connecting your lips. You caught Roman off guard but he quickly grabs ahold of your waist in his free hand, managing to hastily pull you onto his lap.

As your mouths slowly move together, a warm electrifying feeling spreads through you, time seems to slow down, allowing you to focus solely on his lips and the emotions they were making you feel. His hands find yours, intertwining them with his, solidifying the bond you two were experiencing.

You couldn't help but think about the way Rafe kissed you earlier, only in that his kiss was much less intimate, yet more hungry and physically intense. WIth Roman, it was a slow dance of tongues and lips meshing that made you soaked for him in a completely different way. You purposely rolled your hips over his and he groans, squeezing your joined hands. You break the kiss and lean back slightly, admiring the boy who has your heart.

“Hmm, baby?” His lips look a delicious, puffy red and his eyes are half lidded, he looks so sexy right now. Before you could help it, you’re grinding your pussy against his member again, both of you letting out satisfied moans at the friction. “Y/N, shit. What are you doing to me?”

The whiskey in your system has your body acting on its own, out of sexual frustration from the months of built up tension between you two, desperate to explore it with him. You just let his cousin finger fuck you. Fuck, two shots wouldn't be enough.

You pick up the bottle of Jack Daniels, resigned to the choices you were about to make, and downed two or three shots. You force yourself to ignore the burn, and Romans drunk, questioning gaze as you tipped his chin and poured some into his mouth. He shakes his head with a grimace, swallowing down the shitty tasting alcohol.

Without wasting a beat, you begin peppering kisses along his neck, and he lets out a spur of dirty, drunken noises from the back of his throat.

“Does that feel good?” You can't help but tease your clit along his clothed erection again, body moving intoxicatedly of its own free will, chasing the friction his shorts provided, as he struggles to answer and resigns to nodding. You move your mouth up to his ear, sucking softly on it before whispering, “Roman, I want you so bad, want you to fuck me.”

“Wh-” Instantly his hands are on your hips, pushing you slightly back. “Jellybean, what?” He seems almost instantly sobered as he examines your features. "I thought you were a virgin?” You flush at your own obviousness, feeling it even over the warmth of the alcohol coursing through you.

“Well... I mean, I am. But, I want you to be the first.” You grip onto the bottom of his shirt, glancing down, doing your best not to appear as the tipsy, desperate slut you feel like.

Roman sighs heavily, closing his eyes for a second, squeezing your hips gently. “Y/N, I dont know about you, but Im really fucked up right now.” You nod, still not looking up but he lowers his head, forcing you to meet his eyes. “I want it to be good for you. I want it to be special, not like this, pretty girl.”

Your eyes begin to well up quickly, in humility at the perceived rejection and you look out at the ocean, wiping at your tears before they can fall. “I'm sorry, Rome, I'm so stupid. I'm sorry.”

“Love, you aren't stupid. Believe me when I say I want this as bad as you.” Roman shocks you when he removes your hand, that's clutching his shirt, to place it on his hard length. “This is what you fucking do to me, baby. And when the time is right, I won't just be the first, I'll be the last too.” He gives you a lopsided smirk and a delicate kiss on the lips.

You offer him a small smile in response, he was being such sweetheart and you felt horrible. At the forefront of your clouded brain, you were desperate to replace Rafe's touch with Roman's as if it would erase your prior actions, but you shove it to the back, focusing on his reassurance. "Is that a promise?"

“Of course, it is. I know I've been so wrapped up in my own head, trying to keep everything...normal, but I don't want to do that anymore.” He pulls you close again and rests his forehead against yours. “I want this, baby. I want you.”

No, no, no. Roman, dont. Not right now. The guilt is going to crush you. You look down. “Will you be my girlfriend?” His hopeful eyes await yours.

You're quiet for a beat too long before you slowly look back into his expectant face. “I can't, Roman... my Dad. You know how he is.” It's bullshit, but he doesn't know it. Yeah your dad would have an aneurysm but you didn't care in the slightest. You had to make sure that Rafe wouldn't say anything about what you guys did, and break things off with him first, before you made an even bigger mess. Roman was wasted, he might not even remember this in the morning.

Romans face falls a bit at your words. He just promised to endure his mothers psychopathy for you and you wouldn't even return the favour? You hate the look that flashes across his face and hurry to reassure him. “I'll talk to him, okay? After dinner on Wednesday.”

He nods somberly, “Yeah, okay. If you want to.”

You grab his face and plant a kiss on his pouty lips. “I do, Romeo, don't worry. And I promise, I will.”

He laughs at that, loving the nickname. You made many mistakes, but you wouldn't let this be one of them. The feelings that the boy under you made you feel, compared to absolutely nothing else. At least that's what you keep telling yourself.

[stranger-nightmare]

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞 | 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐆𝐨𝐝𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐲

requested by 🎸😈anon

A/N: Roman Godfrey and blood kink? did you mean the literal most perfect pairing ever?? ugh this was so much fun to write, thank you sm for the request darling! I hope you like it

The smirk that adorned Roman’s face was deadly. The twist of his lips, the tilt of his head, the darkness in his eyes; it all had you weak in the knees. It left a flutter in your stomach that radiated through to your groin.

And Roman knew it.

But more than that he knew what it was that was really turning you on: the blood that leaked from his nose.

He’d known the moment your eyes strayed for a little too long to admire his lips as the crimson waterfall coated them. He’d known from the way you’d hitched a breath and bit your lip.

All signs you were anything but concerned about the fact he was bleeding. All signs that you were, in fact, aroused by it.

“You want a taste?” Roman hums darkly, his tongue darting out to swipe across his bottom lip, staining the tip of his tongue red with his own blood.

Your mouth hangs open with a silent reply. But Roman doesn’t wait for your answer. He grabs you by the back of the neck and slams his mouth down onto yours. Your whimper is lost in his mouth as he swiftly moves to open your lips with his own. His tongue quickly pushes into your mouth, coating your own with the tang of his blood.

You can’t help the moan that reverberates through you as your senses are overwhelmed by the small and taste of him, the feel of his body pushed flush against yours, his hand cupping your nape so tight it almost hurt. All the while his nose was still bleeding, the droplets landing on your lips as they continued to move against his.

You gasp and whimper pathetically when you feel Roman’s teeth sink into your bottom lip, pulling lightly as he moves back to look at you, his eyes impossibly dark and lust blown. His smirk grows as he quickly darts his tongue out to swipe across your bottom lip now, tasting the blood he’d just drawn. You instinctively do the same just after, hissing as you feel the sting of your torn skin.

Roman just chuckles darkly before latching his lips back onto yours, your mouths flooding with a mixture of both your bloods. Your body instinctively start to curve into him as he devours you with his hungry kiss. One of his hands holds you in place, splaying across your lower back, whilst his other hand crept up under your skirt. He wastes almost on time in letting his fingers tug your panties to the side so he could reach where you were already dripping and aching for him.

“Fuck baby,” he hisses against your mouth as his fingers rub between your folds. “You’re this wet over the taste of blood?” He teases darkly before winking and adding; “maybe you’re the upir...”

Main Masterlist // Kinktober 2022 Masterlist

[rosevette]

·.༄࿔ TAKE ME TO PARIS pt. 3 my mlist

𝒋𝒐𝒉𝒏 𝒘𝒊𝒄𝒌 & 𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒔 𝒅𝒆 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒕 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

📞ྀིྀི résumé : you want to get back at john, rebelling from his..recent advances, but was running away the right decision? (plot inspired by an ask! thank you for the thoughts, anon!)

1.6k words. tags: murder, death, violence.

୭ৎ thank you all for your patience ! this is a bit shorter than the previous chapters, but i finally finished part 3 of this fic. thank you all for the support ! (has not been proofread, so please excuse any errors!)

That phone call with Marquis…how inviting he was you thought, smirking at the fact that you were just about to go against John’s plans.

Payback.

Ignoring the voice of reason that whispered John's warnings in the depths of your mind, you slipped out of the Ritz hotel, a cloak of darkness enveloping you like a shroud.

“I’m going to go down to the lobby for some food,” You exit your room, announcing yourself to John. You tried to dress casual, so it wouldn’t raise his suspicions.

“Be quick,” His voice low as his gaze deadpanned at yours.

You bit your bottom lip in anticipation, your steps making their way out the door, again, trying to remain casual until you took the spiral stairs to the first floor, and eventually, out the door.

The moon hung like a spectral guardian in the night sky, its silver light casting eerie shadows across the cobblestone streets of Paris.

The taxi ride was short, Marquis had wanted to meet you just outside of “le jardin du Luxembourg,”

As you approached the park, a sense of foreboding settled over you like a suffocating fog, clouding your senses with doubt and uncertainty.

With cautious steps, you ventured into the hushed interior of the gallery, the air heavy with the scent of freshly painted canvases and whispered conversations. Yet, instead of the elegant splendor you remembered, you were met with a scene straight from the depths of your worst nightmares.

There, bathed in the sickly glow of flickering candlelight, stood the Marquis, his usually immaculate appearance marred by a savage intensity as he loomed over a prone figure on the floor.

Your breath caught in your throat as you watched in horror, unable to tear your gaze away from the grisly spectacle unfolding before your very eyes.

The Marquis’s movements were swift and precise, his hands a blur of motion as he plunged a gleaming dagger into the heart of his helpless victim. The metallic tang of blood hung heavy in the air, mingling with the sickening scent of death as the life ebbed from the victim’s eyes, leaving behind nothing but a hollow emptiness.

Desperation clawed at your chest as you struggled to make sense of the carnage before you, the reality of the situation sinking in with a bone-chilling finality. The Marquis was not the gentleman he pretended to be; he was a monster cloaked in the trappings of nobility, a predator lurking in the shadows of society.

Before you could react, the Marquis's cold gaze locked onto yours, sending a chill down your spine. In that moment, you knew that you were in grave danger, a witness to his unforgivable crimes.

“…you’re early,” He scolded, his tone followed with one of irritation and anger. He bores his piercing green eyes into yours, his face painted with annoyance.

“H-How could you..?!” You stammer, your words catching in your throat, you start stepping back slowly.

“I would stay here if I were you. We can talk,” he offered, trying to stay as calm as possible, keeping himself poised.

With a surge of adrenaline, you turned and fled into the night, the echoes of the actions of the Marquis ringing in your thoughts like a macabre symphony of madness. But even as you raced through the labyrinthine streets of Paris, a sense of impending doom loomed over you like a dark cloud, casting a pall over your every thought and action.

Meanwhile, John, ever vigilant in his role as your protector, patrolled the corridors of the hotel with a watchful eye. But as the hours stretched on and the night grew deeper, a sense of unease gnawed at his gut like a hungry beast. Something was amiss, a shadow lurking just beyond the edges of his awareness.

It wasn’t until the early hours of the morning that John’s worst fears were realized. A sharp pang of dread pierced his heart as he entered your room, only to find it empty, the bed neatly made as if you had never been there at all. Panic surged through him like a tidal wave, driving him to scour every corner of the hotel in search of any sign of your whereabouts.

With each passing moment, John’s worry mounted, his mind racing with a thousand dire possibilities. Had you been kidnapped? Or worse, had you ventured into the clutches of the Marquis, heedless of the danger that lurked within his shadowy realm?

Driven by a single-minded determination, John embarked on a relentless pursuit, his footsteps echoing through the deserted streets of Paris as he followed the faint trail of clues you had left behind, checking back at the private drivers that served the hotel.

“I’m looking for a young woman. She took one of your taxis around 11:30,” He says softly to the receptionist, and in response she clicked on the keyboard, checking the records and history.

Now that John knows where you are, his panic only grows.

Even as you sought refuge in the darkness, a sense of dread gnawed at the edges of your consciousness, a silent reminder of the danger that lurked just beyond the reach of the flickering streetlights.

Suddenly, a shadow emerged from the darkness, a menacing figure cloaked in the shadows of the night. It was Chidi, the Marquis’s loyal enforcer, his cold gaze fixed upon you with an intensity that sent a shiver of fear down your spine.

“You shouldn’t have run,” Chidi’s voice was a low, menacing growl, his words dripping with malice as he advanced towards you, his movements deliberate and predatory.

“I won’t let you take me!” you spat, your voice trembling with a fierce determination to escape the clutches of the Marquis and his ruthless minions.

But even as you braced yourself for the inevitable confrontation, a familiar figure emerged from the shadows, a beacon of hope amidst the encroaching darkness. It was John, his steely gaze locking onto Chidi with a silent warning as he stepped forward to stand at your side.

“Back off, Chidi,” John’s voice was a low, dangerous growl, his eyes flashing with a fierce determination as he squared off against the menacing enforcer.

As John stepped forward to confront Chidi, the air crackled with tension, the anticipation of impending violence hanging heavy in the night.

Chidi, a formidable adversary with a reputation as fearsome as his name, squared his shoulders, his eyes narrowed into slits of malice as he regarded John with undisguised contempt.

"You think you can stop me, Wick?" Chidi's voice dripped with disdain, his lips curled into a cruel sneer as he flexed his muscles, readying himself for the inevitable clash.

"You may be good, but you're not that good."

John's response was a low, guttural growl, his fists clenched at his sides as he braced himself for the onslaught.

"I don't intend to let you harm her," he spat, his voice edged with a steely resolve that brooked no argument.

With a snarl of defiance, Chidi lunged forward, his movements fluid and precise as he unleashed a barrage of lightning-fast strikes aimed at John's vulnerable points. But John was no stranger to combat, his reflexes honed to a razor's edge by years of relentless training and experience.

With a grace that belied his age, John danced nimbly out of Chidi's reach, his movements fluid and precise as he deftly parried each blow with a skill born of instinct and muscle memory. Each clash of fists and feet echoed through the deserted streets, a symphony of violence played out against the backdrop of the Parisian night.

As the battle raged on, the two men locked in a deadly dance of death, their movements a blur of motion as they traded blows with a ferocity that bordered on primal. The sound of flesh meeting flesh reverberated through the air, punctuated by grunts of effort and the occasional hiss of pain.

But even as fatigue began to weigh heavy upon their limbs, neither John nor Chidi showed any sign of backing down. For them, this was more than just a fight; it was a battle for survival, a test of strength and endurance that would determine the outcome of their fates.

With a final, desperate surge of energy, Chidi launched himself at John with all the fury of a cornered beast, his fists a blur of motion as he unleashed a barrage of strikes aimed at John's vulnerable points. But John was ready, his defenses impenetrable as he weathered the storm of blows with a calm determination that bordered on unyielding.

And then, in the blink of an eye, it was over. With a swift, decisive motion, John landed a devastating blow to Chidi's midsection, sending him crashing to the ground with a resounding thud. As Chidi lay sprawled upon the cobblestones, gasping for breath, John stood victorious, his chest heaving with exertion as he regarded his fallen adversary with a mixture of triumph and regret.

For a moment, silence descended upon the scene, broken only by the ragged sound of Chidi's labored breathing. And then, with a groan of pain, Chidi struggled to his feet, his eyes blazing with a newfound respect for his opponent.

"You may have won this round, Wick," Chidi's voice was gruff with exhaustion, his words tinged with a begrudging admiration. "But mark my words, this isn't over. The Marquis will have his revenge."

With that ominous warning hanging in the air, Chidi melted back into the shadows, disappearing into the night like a phantom of vengeance. And as the first rays of dawn broke over the horizon, casting a golden glow upon the city of lights, John knew that the battle was far from over. But for now, at least, he had emerged victorious, his resolve unshaken in the face of adversity.

[evren-sadwrn]

Hey! I appreciate you for appeasing my marquis hyperfixation. Could you do some headcanons with a gender neutral reader?

hiii!! of course i can!! (i love other people who are hyperfixated on him bc i am too lol)

warnings: none

only sweet things here<3

ʚ♡ɞ

‪♡ In the rare cases where he wakes up before you, he’ll make sure you’re not falling off the bed

‪♡ Well, it’s just rare for him to be waking up before you

‪♡ He’ll pester you to go to places

‪♡ Well it really just depends on your mood or what you’re feeling

‪♡ Sometimes it’s easy for him to get you to go somewhere with him!

‪♡ ….sometimes it’s not!

‪♡ “Please, amour, you know I’m not strong enough to pull you—”

‪♡ His love language is gift giving and just being overall really clingy

‪♡ He has a great memory aswell

‪♡ If you say something that you need or want, expect in the next two to three days

‪♡ Or maybe just in a few hours

‪♡ It depends really

‪♡ Vincent just really loves giving gifts since he gets to

‪♡ Literally amazing at gift wrapping

‪♡ If you’re an art nerd like him, you’ll definitely have fun talking to him when he’s half asleep or when he’s just reminded

‪♡ He loves art and if you’re an artist, he will not stop talking about it

‪♡ Vincent has a sweet tooth it’s honestly kind of obvious

‪♡ No matter how much he says it’s kind of childish for him to enjoy sugar

‪♡ He will still enjoy dessert

‪♡ And he’ll probably try and get you to eat some aswell

‪♡ “Can you make sure it’s not poisoned?”

‪♡ “Am I really gonna save you from poisoned vanilla pudding?”

‪♡ “Just one bite!”

‪♡ You two spend lots of time just talking

‪♡ In your shared place, outdoors, on benches, in cars…

‪♡ He likes to play with you by purposely pushing you back into your car seat

‪♡ Just so he can open the door of the car for you

‪♡ Of course, you do it back to him and it always catches him off guard

‪♡ Vincent is the one usually giving gifts to you

‪♡ So when you got him a gift for the first time(a painting you thought he would like)

‪♡ He was so happy!

[tangerinesgirl]

Masterlist

All fics are NSFW/18+ unless stated otherwise

Marquis de Gramont

The Hourglass

Sole-Mates

Fully Charged

Tangerine

Cigarettes During Sex

Buggy

For my next trick...

John Carver

Turfucken

Fowl Play - Chapter 1 (Reader x Mark Hoffman x Eric Newlon) //Chapter 2 *COMING SOON*

Mark Hoffman

Unravel

Fowl Play - Chapter 1 (Reader x Mark Hoffman x Eric Newlon). //Chapter 2 *COMING SOON*

Frank/Adam Barrett (Abigail)

Pull Some Strings

Miscellaneous

Aaron Taylor-Johnson X Reader - boat trip one shot

[sweet-as-an-angel]

John Wick Masterlist

John Wick:

Yandere John Wick Headcanons

Vincent de Gramont:

Yandere Vincent de Gramont Headcanons

Masterpost

[pascow]

Bill Skarsgård in the John Wick 4 trailer.    

[ilongfor-the-arts]

Could you do a fanfic where the marquis meets the reader in a museum and they bond over their live of art

Meet Me in the Hallway

Pairing: Vincent de Gramont x fem! Reader

Warnings: VERY mild language

Summary: *in req*

Word Count: 2.3k

The Louvre has maintained a particular place in my heart for as long as I can remember. As a child, I recall visiting during tourist season. The other children darted around, driving their guardians to the brink of insanity. However, I stood in front of the immense paintings, carefully analyzing each aspect of the art. I remember visiting The Louvre as a teenager during the winter, when the immense corridors were barren. I'd find a place to sit and ponder, observing faces and objects in the quiet halls. I recall taking advantage of any occasion to talk about art with friends and family.

My friends were perplexed by my preoccupation. When I rambled on, they would nod and appear to be attentive. But I could always tell by the look on their faces that they were eager for my rant to end.

I've always been drawn to art's beauty. One bad stroke, one outburst of rage, and the finished result may be jeopardized. Art is more than just a painting or a sculpture; it is a way of life. You must be able to look beyond what the eye can see in order to produce art. You must be able to view the world in a completely unique way. You must look for a message behind the eyes rather than simply viewing things analytically. Painters paint, artists interpret.

That is what separates the good from the iconic.

I enjoyed the near silence as I wandered through The Louvre. Because it being January, the museum was nearly totally populated with a sprinkle of wandering locals. I took a tour around my favorite section, French paintings 1780-1850. The gold frames stood out against the dark burgundy walls.

The atmosphere was serene. As night fell, the hallway was illuminated exclusively by a few fluorescent lights. The sensation that washed over me was one of sheer nostalgia and amazement.

The dimness of room 700, when combined with the massive displays showcasing the complexity of the human mind, gave off an ominous vibe. There was everything and nothing at the same time.

Nothing else on the planet can make you feel this way.

I proceeded to one of the most well-known works of art in the entire museum.

Ah, one of my favorites, Liberty Leading the People. Eugene Delacoix created this work of art in the year 1830. Delacoix depicts a scene during the July Revolution of 1830, when King Charles X-

Woah.

My gaze was drawn to a man sitting on a beautiful white couch.

I tightened my teeth to keep my jaw from dropping to the floor.

He was breathtakingly beautiful.

Was he a tourist?

No way, no how. No tourist would dress up in an expensive three-piece black suit to visit the Louvre. He's got to be a local.

He was staring at the enormous painting, his mind fixed in deep thought. Many locals stopped to look at the paintings, but he seemed to be examining every face and object.

Should I introduce myself? It would be the polite thing to do as I’ve been obviously staring at him for-

“Did no one ever tell you it’s rude to stare?”

My trance was broken by his velvety accent. I hid my gitters by slipping my hands into the pockets of my beige trenchcoat.

“I’m sorry,” I said smugly, “You caught my eye.”

He sneered, a slight smirk playing on the edges of his lips. He couldn't take his gaze away from the painting. I swallowed, unsure how to dispel the uneasiness. The man uncrossed his lanky legs and pushed himself up to his full height.

He's tall, Jesus.

He strolled over to the picture, decreasing the distance between himself and the work of art to a few feet. He cocked his head upwards, his gaze wandering over the magnificent painting's many intricacies. The man put his hand on his hip and pushed his jacket to the side, revealing an astonishing variety of golden buttons along his vest.

“What do you think of this one?”

He asked, motioning with his free hand towards the canvas. I followed his movements, taking in the painting I know and adore.

“It’s a beautiful piece of art.”

I said hesitantly. The man chuckled, turning his head to meet my gaze. Despite being only three feet away, I found myself completely engrossed in his captivating green eyes.

“That’s it? It’s beautiful?”

His smirk now more prevalent than before. I exhaled a shuddery breath.

“Well, it’s one of the most famous paintings in art history. I think it's wonderful how this artwork has become a universal emblem of liberty and freedom from oppressive dominance.”

The man raised his eyebrows and nodded.

“That’s excellent insight. It’s good to meet people with an appreciation for the finer things in life.”

He returned his gaze to the canvas, motioning with his fingers for me to come towards him.

“Come closer, look at this.”

I was hesitant to approach this intimidating man, but my curiosity was far too strong to ignore. So I narrowed the gap between us to a mere six inches. As I took up a place next to him, our sides nearly brushed against each other.

He raised his finger to the stunning representation of liberty.

Take note of her features, such as her straight nose, plump lips, and delicate chin. They all look like antique Greek and Roman statues. She pays homage to both Ancient Greece, the birthplace of democracy, and Roman republican culture.”

I narrowed my eyes, mentally applying his words to the painting.

“Here, look at this,” I began, pointing to the left side of the painting.

“See that guy with the pistol? He's wearing a shirt but no jacket. He belongs to the lower class. But look at the man next to him; he's wearing a top hat, jacket, and vest. He belongs to the upper class. Delacroix aimed to include all classes of people in the fight against royalist oppression.”

The man exhaled in amazement.

“How fascinating. Delacroix’s artistic vision is truly unmatched.”

“I agree. This piece is probably my favorite in the entire museum.”

The man shrugged nonchalantly.

“It is certainly impressive. But my favorite would have to be Venus de Milo.”

He shifted his head to face me, sweeping his gaze up and down my figure. I shuddered, his heated gaze making me feel like I was under scrutiny.

“However, I suppose that opinion could simply be mine because I enjoy the presence of a beautiful woman.”

Holy shit was he flirting with me?

Heat climbed onto my cheekbones. I hoped my flush wasn't too visible, as his gaze was still fixed on me. I chuckled awkwardly.

“I suppose that could certainly contribute to your fondness of the piece.”

He motioned towards the white couch.

“Here, sit, let’s talk.”

He sat closer than I had expected. Our thighs were almost touching, and the arm slung around the back of the couch was almost brushing my shoulders. Despite the color on my cheeks and my minor intimidation of the man's large stature, I felt strangely at ease. I was intrigued rather than nervous. He exuded mystery, and I had every intention of unraveling the web of secrets.

“Do you believe talent like this is given at birth, or developed as the individual grows?”

I licked my lips, carefully contemplating my next words.

“Well, I believe we are all born blank canvases, and if we find something we are exceptionally passionate about, then we can grow those specific talents.”

I swallowed, hoping he was satisfied with that reply.

“How about you?”

“Oh, I believe people with true artistic talent are born with promise. Because if we go by your logic, anyone who loves art has the potential to become the next Delacroix.”

Wow, he was certainly quite the intellectual.

“Well, allow me to elaborate. Anyone can become a mediocre artist if they try,” I began, “but yes, I agree with you, only a few are born with the promise of artistic greatness. I mean, someone like Coco Chanel could never become the next Van Gogh or Delacroix, it just isn't meant to be. That isn’t where her talents lie.”

The man's lips curved into a smile. I locked my attention on his lovely green eyes. We were closer than I had imagined. His breath was cascading across my face. I inhaled sharply. He smelt amazing, like an expensive floral fragrance. It crept into my head, confounding my already hazy thinking.

“I like you… Miss…”

“Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N.”

His smile widened even more, splitting his face to reveal a stunning row of white teeth.

“What a gorgeous name... It’s fitting, a gorgeous name for a gorgeous woman.”

His accent was dripping with charm. There was no way in hell this man didn't have a significant other. He was far too enticing and attractive to be single.

“You know, plenty of people wander these halls, knowing every name of every piece. Yet they don’t contemplate the true meaning of the art.”

His eyes were drawn to Liberty Leading the People. The man’s tone became somewhat agitated as he ran his tongue along his smooth bottom lip, his eyes narrowing.

“They only think about the art, they don’t contemplate it.”

He inhaled deeply, his chest softly rising and sinking beneath the pricey cloth.

“Thinking is simple, thinking is the most simple thing in the entire universe for humankind. Anyone can think, but not everyone can contemplate.”

I concur. It was pleasant to meet a thinker who cared so deeply about the beauty of art.

“Who’s your favorite painter?”

My face broke into a genuine smile.

“Paul Cezanne.”

“And why is that, Miss. Y/N Y/L/N.”

I adored how he said my name. It rolled off his tongue effortlessly, like butter on a hot pan. I could spend the entire day sitting next to him on a couch at the Louvre, listening to him utter my name.

“Well, because his distinct color-building technique and his analytical approach to nature had a great impact on the art of Cubists, Fauves, and many generations of avant-garde artists.”

I've never encountered somebody who would listen to my raving with such enthusiasm. And there was no one who properly comprehended my words and had the knowledge to respond intelligently. Not only on the subject of art, but also on the issue of life.

“Ah!”

He exclaimed, shooting a finger towards me.

“There it is!”

His hand fell to his lap.

“You, Miss Y/N Y/L/N, do not just think, you were born with the gift of careful contemplation.”

I'd dated a few men previously, but none had ever made me feel as great as this mysterious man. And I'd only known him for about 30 minutes. My eyes lit up with wonder when I heard his voice, and I hung on to every word with excitement.

“You have a dizzying intellect.”

His velvety tone dropped to an endearing whisper. My stomach flipped.

“It is very rare I meet a woman with such beauty, not only in her appearance, but in her demeanor as well.”

His long fingers pushed a stray hair behind my ear. I nearly flinched before realizing the gesture was benign. I could still feel his contact on my cheek after he removed his fingertips. He set fire to every nerve he came into contact with.

“Will you grant me the opportunity to become your acquaintance?”

His eyes were filled with anticipation. There it was, the date I'd been looking forward to throughout the duration of this conversation.

“I would like that very much Mr…”

“Vincent de Gramont.”

I hummed in delight.

“That’s a handsome name. It’s fitting, a handsome name for a handsome man.”

I said, slightly mocking his previous remark.

Vincent chuckled.

“Oh, you are a comedian as well. I like you more and more as time goes on.”

Vincent waited for a beat of silence before rising to his full height. Being the one seated while he stood certainly flipped the script. I felt small under his demeanor as his presence was felt throughout the room. He was comfortable in his own skin, demanding control of the atmosphere like a conductor.

“My bodyguards will ensure that you have all the information necessary to find my estate.”

Bodyguards?!

He indicated to two men in gray suits who were standing with their backs against the nearest maroon wall.

Wow.

I surely hoped they wouldn’t be hanging around when I finally seized the opportunity to speak with Vincent in private.

“Wonderful.”

“My estate is beautiful if I do have to say so myself. You will enjoy it.”

I can only imagine how magnificent his house was if this was the suit he decided to wear for a chance visit to a museum.

“There is lots of space, plenty of rooms to explore and places to sit and talk for hours.”

I couldn't keep a smile from breaking my face. Who would have guessed that when I walked into the Louver today, I'd walk out with a lovely new date?

“That sounds like a dream come true. I can’t wait to see it.”

Vincent returned my grin.

“I can not wait for you to see it. You will melt.”

He extended his hand. I hesitated for a moment before realizing he wanted me to lay my palm in his. Vincent leaned down and kissed the top of my hand in an exceedingly trendy gesture.

Wow, very gentlemanly.

If my cheeks weren’t pink before, they surely were bright red now.

“Thank you for granting me the pleasure of becoming your acquaintance, I look forward to seeing you around my estate.”

After his departure, I remained seated on the couch. I was unable to move, wanting to preserve the moment for as long as possible

[psychwxrdd]

crazy

summary ౨ৎ - you have to sit on roman's lap inside peter's car.

warnings: pure smut, 18+, minors dni!

🎀 - was listening to crazy by aerosmith and ended up with this. also anon who asked for a smut with roman, this is for you but i lost your ask 😭 i hope you like it!!

not mine gif

why did he even suggested this in first place? did he really thought it was a good ideia?

peter was driving, right beside his MOTHER and you and roman were both sitting in the backseat. there was a few boxes in the seat you were supposed to sit, so roman had the brilliant idea of making you sit on his lap. and now you couldn't stop grinding against his hard on.

his grip on your waist was getting tighter and you could hear his breath getting heavier. the skirt you wore and the way your hips were moving slowly maked it seem like you were giving him a lap dance. he lifted your skirt a bit, so he could watch your ass, biting his lips to control his lust.

peter and his mom were talking about something serious, and you felt bad for not being able to pay attention. you just couldn't resist.

"shee-it" roman murmured.

"shut the fuck up" you murmured back.

"peter, stop here" roman said sternly.

"what? why?" peter's mother stared at you both with a concerned look.

"just fucking stop the car she's about to throw up"

you stared at him and he blinked at you.

"i think she's pregnant, peter"

your eyes widened at his lie. that son of a bitch.

literally.

when peter was about to ask you something, roman grabbed your arm and took you out of the car, heading to inside the forest. you were unsure about what was gonna happen; would he fuck you? drink your blood?

"fucking tease aren't you?" he pinned you against a tree all of sudden, making you gasp. he was so tall that it made you a bit scared. "want my dick that bad you almost made me fuck you in front of them? filthy slut"

"please..."

"beg for me." he wrapped his hands around your throat, kissing you harshly. his tongue was exploring your mouth in the most disgusting, hot way possible. you felt desperated for him to fuck you.

"please, roman"

"please, what?" he asked in that annoying usual tone.

"please fuck me"

"please fuck me what?"

you rolled your eyes, and he slapped your face softly.

"don't fucking roll your eyes on me"

"please, fuck me... daddy" you cringed at the last word. roman smiled.

"thats my girl. bend over"

you immediately did and he didn't waited for you to be ready or adjust, only putting all his thick and huge cock inside you.

"ROMAN!"

you moaned in pain, it felt like you were being ripped apart. he stayed still and let out a groan.

"would you look at this" he chuckled, admiring the way your pussy was suffocating his dick. "i don't think i'll be able to stop"

you had a few tears in your eyes, but it was starting to feel really fucking good. your wetness made the pain quickly disappear.

"move... you can move now"

didn't needed to tell him twice. he thrusted out and inside you like a mad man, like he was hungry and wanted to devour your soul.

he first started slow, enjoying the feeling of being inside you. but you were driving him insane, all that tease, your little gorgeous body, that pretty face and all the desire he had for you, mixed to the way you would away turn him on and then go away.

"harder, roman"

"what's my name again?"

he held your wrists behind your back, pounding into you in a mind numbing speed.

"d-daddy... go harder, daddy. fuck me dumb"

his groans were so fucking hot.

"who owns you?"

"you, daddy"

he used one of his hands to held your head against the tree.

"ouch!"

"y/n..." he moaned, "tightest pussy i've ever fucked. can i cum inside you?"

"yes... please, cum inside me"

hearing that was it for him.

"fuck..."

you felt his hot liquid inside you, and it felt so good you kept your hips hitting against him.

"yes, just like that... keep fucking yourself on my cock, darling"

he kissed and licked your neck, holding your throat, arching your back against his chest. the way your pussy was clenching around him was enough for him to cum once again, this time, you came too.

"you're mine after this"