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iovesia · 9 months

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✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆ 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐁𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐒𝐒.

bodyguard!john wick⠀x⠀bratty!spoiled!fem!reader.

𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔. being notorious for your spoiled, bratty behavior— you have successfully scared off your all previous bodyguards. but you’re stumped when this one just won’t quit.

—⠀੭୧⠀warnings⠀· ˚ ༘⠀large age gap. hyperfem!reader. reader is a bitch. mean!john. oral (m!receiving). dubious consent. brat taming. size kink. face slapping. 2.4k words.

𝒙𝒐𝒙𝒐, 𝒋𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒆 ִֶָ 𓂃 ⊹ for all my hyperfem!reader enthusiasts— this one's for you! i lowkey hate this but i haven't posted a fic in ages ohmygod and i also started school so i might be less active..

#. keanu reeves masterlist. | main masterlist. | request rules.

NO.

It was the one word that was not in your vocabulary.

“No. My decision is final.”

Unfortunately, it was your father’s favorite.

“Daddy, this is so unfair!” You squeal like a petulant child, hot on your father’s trail as he walks through the lavish penthouse which you reside in. Your heels hitting the marble floors reverberate along with your high pitched whining. “I don’t need a babysitter!”

“Bodyguard.” Your father corrects.

“Same difference!” Your father lets out an exhausted sigh at your complaints, rubbing his eyes with his ring-adorned finger. The wrinkles on his face are prominent, displaying his ageing stress. “I can handle myself! I’m not a child anymore!”

“You behave like one!” Your father snaps. “It’s how you’ve managed to scare off the last two bodyguards. So help me God, if this one quits too, there’s going to be mayhem. You hear me, young lady?”

Your soft features contort into a nasty grimace when your father points his finger in your face. Resisting the urge to stomp your Dior, pink heel —ergo proving your father’s point— you let out a defeated scoff. “Fine.”

“Thank you,” Your father gives you a tight lipped smile. “Jesus, you’re just like your mother. God forbid things don’t go your way.” You try to ignore the sting in your heart at your father’s callous words, the venom in his tone as he refers cruelly to his ex-wife, and your mother.

You clear your throat, quickly wishing to change the topic. “Who even is this guy?!”

“His name’s John Wick. He’s highly specialised in martial arts, firearms, and other weaponry. He also has military experience—”

“So basically, you hired The Terminator?” You interject, snapping your gum loudly in between your lip gloss covered lips. “I still don’t understand why the hell he’s here. None of my friends have old bodyguards following them!”

“Your friends are also not daughters of a mob boss,” your father replied bluntly, his patience wearing as thin as his greying hair. Before you could conjure another witty retort— the doorbell rings through the apartment. You follow close behind your father, eyes shooting daggers into the back of his skull when he walks into the entrance area.

The penthouse was adorned with gold trim and marble floors, along with glimmering chandeliers hanging from the tall ceilings, accentuating your father’s immense wealth— your silver platter prison as you liked to call.

“Christ, give me strength,” Your father mumbles under his breath.

“It’s John, isn’t it?”

“I pray it is.”

“If he’s short, bald and old like the last one— I’m going to freak out,” you hold your hands up defensively, briefly admiring your manicured french tip nails. You pride yourself on your appearance— if you’re not complaining and bitching, you’re spending daddy’s credit card on all things girly and pink.

The door slowly opens. From the bottom of your new bodyguard’s Oxford shoes, you eye him up past his lean body under his tight black suit— accentuating his buff arms and chest, up to his slicked back black hair and piercing dark eyes. You stare in slight disbelief at the man ahead, who towered over you.

“Meet John. Your new bodyguard.”

AS ATTRACTIVE AND BROODING as your new bodyguard was, he was also quiet.

Too quiet.

Unlike your previous bodyguards, John was as still as stone, completely unresponsive to any of your nasty quips, bitchy comments or snarky commands. You were lucky to receive even a word of acknowledgement, let alone a sentence.

He was your silent shadow, always standing eerily close by wherever you went. At the mall. At clubs. At the library. Even when you go to public restrooms, he stands waiting outside the door, embarrassingly dragging attention to the both of you.

“Seriously?” You grumble to yourself, adjusting your pink tennis skirt as you walk out of the ladies restroom. The older man merely looks down on you, his unreadable expression only pissing you off more.

“It’s my job.”

That was his famous catchphrase. Like a broken record, or a poor man’s Princess Bride— it was his automated response for any of your complaints. It’s his job.

You huff, tongue in cheek as you lean against the doorframe of the kitchen, watching the brooding bodyguard read a book. John’s leaning against the back of the chair, his arm resting on the countertop of the kitchen island, his veiny hand holding the book upwards as he takes a sip of coffee with his other. The palpable silence was too much for you to bear. You’ve had enough. You needed a reaction out of him— anything— literally anything other than this monotonous apathy.

Your hips sway side to side as you stroll over to John, his attention unwavering from his book. You clench your jaw, tapping your nails on the marble countertop. You take a seat next to him, and lift your leg up, resting your foot on his thigh.

Shockingly, he raises a brow— but still doesn’t look at you.

“Lace up my heels,” you demand, a smug smile on your lips, gently digging the heel of your shoe into his thigh. But he doesn’t twitch. Doesn’t move. Doesn’t even produce a sound of pain.

“You’re not a child, you can do it yourself,” his voice is low, and raspy as he clears his throat. John flips to the next page of his book and your brows stitch together, a small frown etching on your lips.

“Lace up my heels, Jack,” you repeat firmly, the taunt in your voice disappearing as you purposefully get his name wrong.

“John.”

“Whatever.”

John’s attention to his stupid book never faltered, and your annoyance boiled like bile in your chest. Clearly you’d have to try a little bit harder. You remove your foot off his lap, and let out a purposefully loud sigh.

“I’m your boss, John,” you say mockingly, “you better do what I say.”

“Your father is my boss,” his tone is painfully monotonous, if he was anyhow irritated with your bratty behaviour— he didn’t show it. “I work for him.”

There’s another tense silence casted upon the door, and you huff, jumping off your seat before storming out of the kitchen. Blinded by your temper tantrum, you missed the older man’s leering eyes on your ass as you walked away.

YOU WERE FUMING.

A whole month.

A whole thirty days he’s been your bodyguard, and you still have not managed to find out what made John Wick tick. His silent, stoic demeanour seemed impenetrable to your girlish, spoiled wit. John has bested your previous guards by the duration of his stay— most, if not all of them would have packed their bags by this point.

The sun beamed on your soft skin, exposed by the skimpy pink bikini that barely covered your breasts and left little to the imagination. Lying across the sunbed next to the glistening infinity pool, the sun suddenly disappears from your face, and you open your eyes to see John hovering over you.

“Move, you’re blocking the sun,” You roll your eyes, pulling your Cartier sunglasses above your head.

“Get dressed.”

You furrow your brows in confusion at his command.

“Your father says there’s a gala in a few hours, your attendance is mandatory.” John affirms his previous command, before he stalks away from you, his long legs carrying him far as he re-enters the penthouse. Immediately, you sit up from your sunbed, not bothering to cover your skimpy figure with a towel as you chase him.

“I don’t take orders from the help.”

“But, you do take orders from your father,” John quips, quirking a brow as he turns to face you, his staggeringly tall body looming over you. “Get dressed.”

“I don’t take orders from you, I’m not going!” You sneer, and when you attempt to walk past John, his large arm wraps around your forearm, gently but firmly pulling you backwards in front of him. “Excuse me?”

“You’re excused. Get. Dressed.”

“Get fucked, how about that?” You retort, scoffing at his audacity to tell you what to do. “I don’t take orders from the butler.” Roughly tugging your arm back, you take a challenging step closer and you can feel the warmth radiating from his suit covered body.

“Bodyguard.”

“Oh, please— you’re a glorified babysitter,” you chuckle incredulously. “All that military experience is probably a load of crap— I have half a mind to get my daddy to fire you!”

“I have half a mind to shut that mouth of yours,” John’s low voice has goosebumps swimming across your skin. He finally cracked, and now you were just waiting for the pieces to come apart. John takes a step forward, closing the distance as his chest nearly touches yours.

“What did you just say to me?” You speak quietly, your confidence slowly decreasing. A small, devious scowl creeping on his face. “I said: what did you just—”

Your words die in your throat when a sudden hand clutches your jaw, fingers digging into your cherub cheeks. A weak gasp comes out, as John pulls you closer, your exposed stomach and barely-covered breasts pressing against his lean body. His stubbled face leans down, your noses almost touch as he whispers: “I think it’s time you got a taste of your own medicine.”

“GET ON YOUR KNEES.”

Jaw dropped.

“What?”

“You heard me,” John rests against the back of the leather couch, sitting as his legs manspreading with his elbows resting on the leather couch pillows. You stood like a deer in headlights in front of him, hands on your hips, looking down at him. “Get on your knees.”

“I’m not gonna do that, are you out of your mind?!” You squeal, offendedly. John merely licks his bottom lip, his eyes focused on your hips, and thighs. “You are so fired, John! I’m telling my dad!”

“Go ahead, let your precious daddy know you made another one of his staff quit..” John shrugs nonchalantly, scratching his beard. “Your father will be pissed, and will probably cut you off.. And then who will pay for those little bikinis?”

You kiss your teeth, lips pursed as your leg bounces anxiously. He was right.

“Asshole,” you hiss under your breath as you lower yourself down to the ground, your knees scratching against the rough carpet. His penetrating stare made you sweat, a chill tingling down your spine. God, you wished you had taken that towel with you. John’s voyeuristic gaze trailed from your breasts that barely fit in your bikini top, down the curves of your hips to the swell of your ass.

“Come here,” he says slowly.

Reluctantly, you abide his words, and your hands and knees graze the carpet as you crawl over to John— like an obedient little puppy. Sitting on the heels of your foot, you rest your palm on your thighs, an exasperated huff flaring through your nose.

“You are a spoiled little girl, you know that?”

You roll your eyes.

Suddenly, pain blooms in your left cheek as a firm hand smacks across your face— not enough to hurt, but enough to shoot down your attitude, making you mewl. “Ow!”

“Aw.. did that hurt?” John leans forward, his warm breath hitting your face as you look up at him, batting your long lashes. His fingers digging into your cheeks again, holding you in place. “You want me to kiss it better?”

Your face flushes at his question, as you roll your shoulders back. The diva inside you was screaming when you nodded— but you didn’t care. You eyed the older man hungrily, the sting on your cheek had you rubbing your thighs together. Unfortunately, John noticed.

“That’s too bad.” Pushing your face away, he leans back against the couch. John subtly spreads his knees further apart, signalling you to his shiny belt buckle. Eyeing the older man hungrily, the pads of your fingers touch the cool metal as you undo his belt.

His lowered slacks reveal his flushed, hardened cock, with pre-cum already leaking from the red tip. Your hand shakily wrapped around his shaft, your whole hand unable to fit around his full girth. You stroke him gently as his lips part, a soft groan escaping. You swallow nervously, his cock throbbing in your hand when you halt your hand. Spit gathering into a small glob on your lips before stretching down onto his mushroom tip. The saliva made your movements smoother, and more confident.

“I know that mouth does more than complain,” John taunts, his large hand softly caressing the back of your head when he edges your face closer to his thick shaft. Your mouth waters as you wrap your glossy lips around his cock, your tongue flat against his tip, the salty pre-cum satisfying your tastebuds.

Relaxing your jaw to adjust to his size, you lower your head, his cock nudging against the back of your throat. Whatever you couldn’t fit in your mouth, your hands covered, massaging the base of his cock. John grits his teeth, swallowing a groan as you begin bobbing up and down his cock. John’s hand is heavier on the back of your hand, forcing you lower on his cock till your nose is buried in his short, curly pubes— making you gag loudly.

“Does the spoiled brat need some air?” John chuckles raspily, his hand clutching your hair, pulling you back off his cock. A thick line of saliva dribbles down your chin, lips puffy as tears brim your waterline. Your jaw ached, but your tongue was desperate for more. His thumb swipes against your bottom lip, wiping away the pre-cum and spit, before shoving his thumb into your mouth. The pad of his thumb presses down on your tongue, and you gag once again.

“Spent the last month dealing with your little attitude problem,” John eyes squinted into slits, repeatedly patting your face with his other hand. “I think a little appreciation is in check.”

Like a cockdrunk doll, you nod ditzily as he switches his thumb out for the tip of his shaft.

Your father was surprised to see you wearing jeans the next day, as they covered those little bruises on your knees.

john wick taglist : @hamburgerslippers @alwaysinblck @emosludge @nwheregirl @beansricejc @sughcashsaiki @namjoons-crabssss @scream-queen-25 @slutforsoldierboy @hamburgerslippers @redhotelroom. @hearteyedbambi @ilovedilfs4ever @aerangi @spacemonkeyfitz

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#keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves imagine #john wick x reader #john wick imagine #john wick #john wick smut #keanu reeves smut #nsfw.josie #bodyguard au

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r4vn · 8 days

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—SNAKE'S TONGUE

farleıgh x reader 【1/2】

w.c: 4,148

disclaimers: nsfw, cursing, heavy sexual tension, teasing, versfem!reader, vers!farleigh, heavy kissing/making out, enemies to lovers, porn w plot, impatient farleigh, fighting for dominance, slight ignorance? (lol you'll see), sexual frustration, arguing

—synopsis: your friend venetia invites you to stay with her for easter weekend. while you do, you bump heads with a sharp tongued male, who is around every corner you turn and you eventually go up against his words.

a/n: this will have a second part!!!..im soo sorry the intro is long. the places mentioned are also real places i couldnt make up anything lol kdjddkks. im rlly excited for you guys to read..i just love tension ahh...enjoy! stay tuned for the second part !

— part ²: here

「divider by @/ cafekitsune」

you had been friends with venetia since secondary school. she was a year older, you were 15 and she was 16. were you two the bestest of best friends? maybe not. but were you two were one of the only friends to each other since then. sure you had a couple of above surface friends, but venetia knew things personal of you. venetia was labled "the black sheep" in her family. one of the very few family members that didn't paint the world full of luxurious, narrow-minded bliss, yet had to play along on her exterior.

how you two became friends wasnt a rather complex story. you were sitting outside at breaktime during secondary school, fumbling with the hem of your school jacket on a bench. you watched as other cliques happily chatted about going to a cafe after school or grabbing dinner. it wasn't really your strongsuit on making friends, because it was always a hassle. venetia had suddenly appeared next to you, and her hand held out a couple of cigarettes. you were appalled she was just holding out a cigarette on school grounds so carelessly.

"no one's going to tell, just take it." you stared at the two cylindrical-shaped tobacco stick's between her fingers before briskly grabbing it to take it out of open view. she shoots you a half smile before lighting hers. you darted your head around to see the teachers occupied by other students or teachers, forcing yourself to relax your shoulders. you held up the cigarette toward the blonde, silently asking for a light.

"venetia, you?" you answered with your name before inhaling smoke into your lungs slowly. she nodded in response. the two of you sat in a mildly comfortable silence and watched others interact. it wasn't long till teachers signaled it was time to head inside again, you and venetia putting out the cigarettes and grinding them into the ground with the heel of your shoes. throughout junior high, you and venetia would sneak off for a smoke and get to know each other. you learned her last name; catton. she had a younger brother who was your age named felix, and lived in a grand home with acres that touched the horizon of the trees. from the words venetia described, she was well off coming from an even more well off family with a mini mansion.

you didn't find it weird that you never stepped foot in or at her home. you were completely fine with being surface level friends that oddly share every bit about your social and home life. although it makes sense considering you moved away the first year of college. from northamptonshire to bristol, england. luckily you and venetia had kept in touch up to university. you had gotten accepted to oxford university, excited to finally have the freedom of a university student. you had just finished your first term and had an amazing jumpstart. you were staying on top of your studies and found a couple of surface friends to go out with occasionally. now it was summer break and you were ready to get out of the university itself.

before oxford, you lived with your mother in a nice victorian styled home in bristol. your mother was a successful attorney. though she was present in your life, that doesn't mean she spent time with you. she was either always held up in her office for days or not home all hours of the sunlight. your father, that bastard, was not present due to a divorce that happened when you were about 9, leaving you and your mom with half his values for being unfaithful. he had an affair with a coworker of his. it didn't hurt as much as it should have, though you know at the thought of him, you resent him. you didn't have to get a job, as your household was financially stable. you had the things you wanted, nice house, your own car, and you never went hungry. you weren't poor but you weren't as wealthy as venetia either.

in your text conversations whenever you two talked about her home, she would send pictures of only her room, the common area and the gardens. you never pressed for more than what you were sent. but you were curious to see this home you'd conversed about for years now, and you were going to.

this school break, venetia had spontaneously invited you to stay at her home so you wouldn't have to be driving nearly 2 hours back home. she had never invited you over before. you were curious and excited.

"oh its so lovely to see you after all these years!" venetia exclaimed as she hugged you at the door. you smile and return the tight hug. venetia lets go of you after a handful of seconds and grabs your luggage for you, gesturing for you to come in.

"how was the drive? better than driving home 2 hours right?" she joked, smiling back at you.

"yeah," you responded in awe as you looked all around you. the home was beautiful. none of the photos venetia sent did it justice. the carved wooden frames and panels, color assorted rooms, vintage furniture, and even chandeliers in every room. it was breathtaking. "way better than driving back to a nearly empty home."

you hear venetia chuckle. she was clearly amused by your awe of her home. you quickly switched to a poker face as you continued to follow her and silently admired. she gave you a quick tour of the house, showing you the common room you two walked through first, several lounge rooms, the dining room, library, the tv room and finally her room. it looked better in person to you.

"this, is your room, the room next to me so knock if you ever need anything. and, if you go into this door here," you follow her as she opens a dark wooden door to a red wallpapered lounge room, walking across it. she then opened another door and revealed a bathroom suite.

"and here is your personal washroom." the walls were made of dark green tiles that contrasted the white tile floor. in the middle of the bathroom sat a white tub. you look to the left of the tub to see the sink with 3 mirrors, bordered by a gold encasing. the house was truly beautiful.

"now, i will let you get unpacked and freshened up, dinner is in an hour and a half. i will be in the tv room but if im not there, meet me and the rest of us in the dining room. oh! and wear something nice. we dress up for dinner, remember?" you nodded and waved her off as she exited. it was good she reminded you to bring a few formal pieces of clothing for dinner. or else you would've felt like a bum in front of her family. you took a breath, finally taking it all in. you felt so small in such a grand house. for once it felt nice to feel like the lower class. to experience such awe of a luxury in person felt like a reward of some sort.

regarding the amount of time before dinner you had, you began to unpack, fold and hang up your clothes in the old aged wardrobe. you grabbed your toiletries and placed them in the bathroom before looking at your reflection.

"i should shower, i feel kind of gross." you mumbled to yourself. you started the water, letting it run to fill the bathtub as you undressed yourself. when full, you slowly stepped in, your muscles immediately relaxing at the contact of warm water. it felt nice to finally relax after studying for hours. you dunk yourself underwater with a big breath of oxygen. the muffled silence of the water calmed you. it felt like a warm blanket was wrapped around you. you didn't stay in the tub long, knowing you were in a slight time crunch. exiting your calm thought bubble, you unplugged the drain and stepped out the tub.

you quickly dried yourself off before wringing out the excess water in your hair. heading into your room, you grabbed your off the shoulder black dress and slipped it on over your body. it was too late to blowdry your hair so you made a last minute decision to wear it slicked back, content with how it accentuated your features. you wore light smokey eye makeup and simply rubbed clear gloss on your lips. nothing too flashy. you finally finished getting ready and slipped on some low heels before exiting your room.

you have never dressed for dinner before. you did feel a bit overdressed yes, but you knew you looked good. you wandered around for a bit before finding the tv room, slowly opening it to reveal only one person. he didn't look familiar. he also wasn't in formal clothing. you began to feel really overdressed now.

"can i help you?" he asked in a bored tone. by his accent, and his choice of style, he was american. it threw you for a slight loop, because you didn't know venetia had an american sibling. you ran a hand through your damp hair before clearing your throat.

"i was looking for venetia, im a friend of hers. do you know where to find her?" you asked, noticing his eyes looking you up and down. he suddenly stood and walked slowly towards you till he was about a foot apart.

you held his gaze, but he decided to analyze you. from your hair to your make up to your outfit. you didnt mind, considering you knew you looked good. the two of you shared a long silence before he sighed audibly with a faux smile.

"well if i didn't know any better, i'd say you were dressed for dinner. so, did you try the dinning room?" he queried, sarcasm lacing his voice. all you did was roll your eyes and turn your heel to exit the tv room. you made your way to the dining room now, the american lingering in your mind.

what an ass. who even is he?

you were nearing the dining room now, anxiety filling your chest. you exhaled deeply and looked at the butler standing near the door.

"erm—..am i presentable enough, sir?" you asked the butler, in hopes of getting some* words of encouragment. the bulter turned to you and scanned your dress, briefly nodding. it made you smile. it wasn't much but a little goes a long way. the 2 butlers simultaneously opened the door for you, revealing a moderately dim lit room, and about 5 people at the table.

"oh [y/n] we were just talking about you!" mrs.catton exclaimed with the brightest smile. you returned the smile before sitting next to venetia, greeting her.

"its so nice to meet you mr. and mrs.catton." you proclaimed. mrs.catton scoffs with a laugh and a wave of her hand.

"please, elspeth is perfectly fine. this is my husband, sir james, my son felix and his friend oliver. he is also staying for break." you greeted everyone, making sure to remember their names to their faces. you didn't feel as tense anymore to know that you weren't the only guest in the home.

"so, do tell me about yourself [y/n]. as much as i've heard from venetia i would like to hear it from you! you're from bristol, yes?" elspeth rested her chin on the back of her intertwined hands to give you her full attention. you glance at venetia, who subtly mumbled a 'sorry', most likely for talking about you. there were no hard feelings though. you remembered how venetia said her mother had absolutely no filter.

"yes, i am from bristol. i used to live here, which is how venetia and i met, back in secondary school. but i moved before i started my college education." elspeth hummed in an interested tone, taking a moment to eat a bite of her food.

"and you moved because of your mothers work, yes? an attorney?" you nodded at her words, briefly thanking the bulter who brought you your plate.

"yes, my mum moved to bristol for her job. and well, i followed suit considering she provides for me." you chuckled out, getting a soft laugh from elspeth and sir james. as soon as elspeth opened her mouth again, the doors opened again to reveal the american from earlier. this time, he was in a black suit and looked more cleaned up than prior to meeting him.

"farleiiigh, you're laaate." felix mumbled in a singy-songy tone with his glass to his mouth.

"sue me, golden boy." farleigh waved him off and sat down with a sigh. as the curly brunette sat down, his eyes landed on you, who was sitting right across from him. he let out another gentle sigh before signaling the butler.

"as i was saying," elspeth started, clearing her throat. "an attorney ..wow, what a brilliant profession your mother went into. and its just you and her, yes? venetia said your father is out of the picture. is that unfortunate?" the blonde women questioned. you were prepared for her unfiltered questions but it seems venetia deeply disliked it, taking a big swig of her wine filled cup. you only laughed again, nodding.

"unfortunate isn't the word i'd use but rather ..well, fortunate really. i mean who would want to keep a bastard whore in their home?" your words seemed to of caught some of the table off guard, hearing brief chokes from felix, elspeth and venetia. though elspeth was the only one to laugh.

"oh yes! i like her, venetia! very open with her thoughts, yes." elspeth giggled as she sipped her glass.

"oh yes, very entertaining really. im curious though," you turned to farleigh, listening to his words. "do you think you're going to follow your mom's ..or your dad's footsteps?" he asked, a faint smug expression occupying his face. you rose a brow, keeping your facial expressions to a minimum. you force a laugh, taking a bite into the piece of meat dressed on your plate.

"well i would hope to follow in my mother's footsteps. what about you, farleigh? do you think you'll follow in, well, either of your parents footsteps?" you questoned sweetly. farleigh didnt answer. you could see his eye twitch, proably from irritation. you didnt know much about him, but from a general standpoint, and simply knowing he was american, you could say it was written on his sleeve. it interested you though. to know his history, and who he was.

"oh don't mind him [y/n]. farleigh is a cousin of ours. sir james' sister is his mother.” elspeth dramatically placed her hand up to her mouth to block it away from farleigh, loudly whispering. "she left to the states and had farleigh. so yes, we are stuck with him. but dont worry! we treat him like one of our own, because he is!" you glanced to farleigh, who simply rolled his eyes as he ate silently. you, too, began to eat quietly quietly as small conversations occupied the room.

°°°

finally being able to breathe a little lighter, you lay back on your bed starting up at the decorated ceiling. every single inch of this place was dazzling to you. before you got too tired, you quickly stood up and slipped off your dress to put on black flowy pajama pants and a thin-strapped black silk top. as it got warmer throughout the month, you noted to pack light flowy clothes for both the day and night.

you headed into the bathroom to wash off your makeup and brush your teeth for the evening. you then took the time to brush your now fully dry hair, swooping it over your shoulder, looking at yourself with content in the mirror.

its still early evening, maybe venetia is still awake?

you opened your door to head over to the door down from you, knocking gently.

"venetia? are you up?" you whispered, hearing nothing in return. you try the door, the knob turning open for you to reveal the room. it was gorgeous, yes, but it didn't look the same like in the photos she sent. there were a few luxury brand posters on the wall and the bed that was in front of the window looked as if someone got up. the burnt orange duvet decorated with a paisley pattern matched the sheets and pillow case. there was a chair occupied with clothes that were clearly from luxury brands and a half-open wardrobe which sat to the left of the bed, sharing the same wall as the window.

you had a feeling this was not venetia's room, but it was so stylish you couldn't help but look. the room faintly smelled of fresh green lush, amber and sandalwood, like a fresh walk through the forest. you looked around, daintily touching the duvet and grazing the cashmere cardigan woven with intricate design. you never owned any cashmere. then again, you weren't a complex girl.

out of the corner of your eye you noticed movement outside the window, walking up to the glass slowly. you were careful not to touch the bed but leaned against the bed frame. there were two figures out in the grass. one was sitting and the other kneeled down in front of them. you squint to focus your eyes before covering your mouth.

venetia.

you kept your mouth covered, watching in shock as felix's friend, oliver, touched and messily kissed your friend before going down south on her. she had crimson stains that trailed from her mouth down to her neck. you couldn't even comprehend what you were watching.

"find what you were looking for?" you immediately whipped around to the voice only to be met with farleigh. he was wearing a silk, light blue pajama set, the buttons of his shirt unbuttoned halfway down. he leaned back against the door frame, seemingly being present for several seconds prior to speaking.

"i– i was just–" you faltered, pointing and darting your head back to the window before looking at the brunette in front of you again. technically, he was right. you did find what– no, who you were looking for, just not in the way you'd have preferred.

"right. may i ask what youre doing in my room?" you didn't know how to answer, because there was no right answer for his question. you could say you were looking for venetia but he wouldn't accept that because she clearly wasn't present in the room. you swallowed thickly, taking a small step back.

"hello? snake got your tongue? or maybe you're stalking me? is that it?" you scoffed and shook your head, still only saying vowels instead of words. farleigh stood up and walked slowly towards you now, arms crossed.

"oh, i know, you wanna run a background check on the american because i'm the only one with skin pigment here, right?" your back hit the wardrobe, making you quickly realize there was nowhere to go. you furrowed your brows at his words, frustration beginning to bubble up inside you.

"oh is that the kind of game you want to play? the race game? ugh i swear that's all you americans think about." you bit back, noticing subtle shock in farleighs face. "frankly, i don't care if you're american or if you're english. its easy enough not to be a fucking stuck up cunt to anyone who doesn't own luxurious clothing or lives in a mini mansion. prick..." you mumbled the last word loud enough for him to hear. the tall brunette stared down at you silently, biting down on his lip.

"what .." you muttered out. "snake got your tongue?" your words earned a low chuckle from farleigh, his fingers caressing a strand of your [h/c] hair.

"remember whose house you're in sweetheart." he stated in a soft but poised voice. he gently grabbed your jaw, causing your stomach to do a flip before he slowly guided you back to the window by your face, forcing you to look.

"you see, they've been at it for about 10 minutes," he started, not looking away from you. "i think, oliver sees how damaged she is. and he can easily puppeteer poor sweet little ol' venetia into whatever he wants because he sees her. her damaged goods in this grand blessed home, like a fucking antithesis," he stands behind you as he speaks, he other hand leaning on the wall next to the two of you. you wish you had a mirror just to see what the position of you and him looked like. "the worst things are found with the best things. like a beggar on the street outside a luxury store."

you clenched your jaw at his words. farleigh felt it at his fingers, chuckling next to your ear. "if you get my gist, im saying you don't belong here." having enough, you abruptly turned around to face the tall brunette.

"i belong here just as much as you do, if anything, more than you." you assured. immediately you felt slight regret in your words as farleigh stepped closers forcing you to fall back on the bed. as you leaned back on your elbows while he leaned forward with the palms of his hands pushing into the mattress. he tilted his head to the side, wearing a mischievous grin.

"you don't know me then if you think you, a working class girl, belongs here, over me." your heart twitched, looking at the new position you two were in. the moonlight lit up his face. his long eyelashes caught your attention first, then his nicely shaped brows. your eyes quickly made the tour around his features, briefly thinking how pretty his teeth were. white and perfectly aligned.

"i know enough. i have seen enough social butterfly pretty boy pricks to spot one out." you challenged, not budging for dominance.

"oh so you think im pretty?" farleigh suddenly asked, eyebrows raising out of curiosity. you suddenly flushed a warm pink and he taking notice of this. he began to lean down slowly, making you hold your breath. your eyes fluttered closed, opening again quickly as he kissed your flushed cheek, doing the same on the other side of your face.

"if i didn't know any better, i'd say you like to argue with me, sweetheart." he theorized. the tone of his voice dropped and your core felt warm, yet you didn't know if it was from aggravation or arousal. you looked away from him, fingers beginning to fidget with the fabric of the duvet.

"you're annoying to even be in the same room with, farleigh " you muttered, half lying to yourself. if anything, it was rather suffocating to be near him. the air was thick between the two of you and you couldn't handle it

"oh? i thought my name was prick." farleigh's smile became more prominent. he slowly interlaced your legs with his, sliding his knee right in between your thighs. you sucked in a slow breath between your teeth. you didn't know what to do with yourself.

fuck this.

you grabbed his jaw and pulled his face into yours, stopping just so his lips could brush against yours.

"no farleigh," a smile of arousal appeared on farleighs lips now, tilting his head forward to capture your lips. but you back up just out of his reach, and continued to tease him as he tried to kiss you again every few seconds. "i will call you whatever i want, sweetheart. and you will come when called." you whispered right up against his lips. a breathy laugh escaped past his lips and the faint smell of cigarettes occupied your nose.

you finally allow him to smash his lips against yours. your stomach filled with butterflies as he groaned softly into your mouth. his hand snaked under your silk top, his fingers roughly caressing the skin of your lower back and waist. you gasped into his mouth at his touch, arching off the bed for his arm to fully wrap around you.

the two of you mutually pull away, panting lightly. farleigh slowly licked across his bottom lip as he grabbed your chin, taking his hand away from your waist to tilt your head up to his. he leaned in again, planting another kiss on tour cheek before whispering in your ear.

"get out."

you chuckled gently in response to his command. you knew he didn't want to end. but alas, you complied and slowly pushed him off of you. you two both stood in close vicinity, staring at each other.

"with pleasure." you responded, before grazing his chest as you walked away, exiting his room.

a/n: stay tuned for more ! ty ♡ .

#raven writes #farleigh fanfiction #farleigh x reader #farleigh x you #farleigh saltburn #farleigh start #vers!farleigh #venetia catton #archie madekwe #saltburn #saltburn x reader #saltburn x you

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