#john wick movie x reader

[writingbyshiloh]

Cautious yet optimistic and graceful

Part 2 & Part 3

CW: Morally gray reader, Fem!Reader, John Wick type of violence, drinking, Marquis is a bit of an ass, French is not the reader's native language but there are only 2 sentences in French. Both say “City of Lights” but the reader's French is off.(will update as the fic goes) 

AN: if the title is still messed up idk what to say I have been working too many hours. I have parts 2 and 3 planned if there is an interest! IDK French sunset times nor the weather so just roll with it. I also watched the entirety of community s4 so if he's ooc blame it on that. No beta

The other managers have it easier you think. If anything goes wrong in New York, that's okay because New York is gritty. Paris has such a large history and many different names that it is hard to include in one hotel. In Casablanca, Sofia has her dogs with her at all times so the hotel is a bit more laid back.  Maybe you are just bitter because your hotel in Paris is considered to be the epitome of class. 5-star dining, showing off the best French cheeses, hotel complete with a small vineyard for exclusive house-made wines. 

Maybe because you share the city with a very wealthy and powerful agent of the table. Marquis Vincent de Gramont was a thorn in your side. While never made explicit you felt like he had a hand in making you manager. 

Whether it was him wanting fresh blood running and influencing the Continental or your previous weapon (swords, often French by some weird coincidence) when you were still doing hits for the high table pulling on some patriotic thread in him.  The not knowing gave you small comfort.

You liked the concierge though, a woman named Camielle. You were given the option to fire her but declined wanting to make sure someone understood the hotel, at least during your few years running it. 

The gentle buzzing of your desk phone took you out of the work you were doing. Using the back end of your pen you punched the answer button. 

“Marquis de Gramont asked if you're free for dinner tonight. I said yes.” Camielle told her, her French accent coming across even on the phone. 

You bite back a whine. The threat of Marquis visiting always buzzed in the back of your head and you were sure that while not a member of the high table, he had enough power (in many senses of the word) to fully shut down your hotel. You also never spent time with him alone. You would occultly see him at some “business” even that was far and few between.  

You nod your head, before realizing that she couldn't see you. 

“What time? Did he say where?”

“Huit. Eight. He said the rooftop.” 

You thank her before she hung up, probably to help a guest.

Of course, he did. The location was formal, secluded and your favourite. Should you bring a guard? He won’t kill you, business is forbidden in Continental grounds you thought stabbing your pen against the notepad in front of you. 

While replaying the conversation in your head, the realization that he didn’t specify why he wanted to go to dinner hit. 

The rooftop was your favourite place in the hotel. Seeing other parts of Paris made the hotel feel small, like a normal business other than a safe haven for the criminal underworld as well as regular tourists alike. 

You went up early, earlier than the expected time. You could brainstorm what he wanted to talk about. New ideas that you decided to implement to various levels of success? You're planning on something to do with a section of the Catacombs, but no solid ideas yet.

You kept one security guard by the door, to the roof, while Chidi was someone skulking around somewhere. You talked to the chef before and arranged a menu for the evening. If the Marquis didn't like it you were sure that he would implore you to make changes.

His arrival was heard of before you saw him. A small nod from one of your guards alerted you that he was on his way up. You feel your nerves clawing in your stomach, back to fixating on why he wants this meeting.

While you hate to give him credit, he looks good. A suit that only seems to accentuate his long legs, a stunning red suit jacket, with a black tie and vest all over a white dress shirt. The chains across his vest and ring glinted in the light. He wouldn't be Vincent if not for dressing up like this. You slightly deflated realizing this was probably what he was wearing and not something special to see you. 

Bottle of champagne set in the ice bucket, stamped with the Continental embossing. He didn't change your menu so you assumed that he was content with it. Hoping you only had to so small talk with him until the food arrived or he decided to drop some sort of bomb on you.

“The view is beautiful,” he said, gaze burning into you. Wonderful. You have to make small talk before whatever he is here for is here.

You turned your head to see the Elifle tower situated against the evening sky. 

“It is.” you agree as you turn your face back to him, realizing that he never looked at the surroundings, but was looking at you. 

“C’est la ville du lumier”. Maybe the conversation would go faster if it was in french. 

“'La ville lumière'” he corrects you before switching back to English. “You do not use the 'du'”. 

Heat rises to your face after making a small mistake in French. 

“Sorry. My French is primarily used for business.” You let the last word hang in the air, both knowing what you meant. 

“How you do anything is how you do everything, Mademoiselle,” He says changing the subject. 

Like being annoying you think in reference to him choosing to call you mademoiselle, most show you respect by calling you The Manager, keeping with the sister hotels. You take a slow sip of your drink, stalling for anything to say. 

He places his hand on yours. 

“You approached dinner with me like you approach your hotel. Cautious yet optimistic Gracefully.” 

You sit in stunned silence. He gives your hand a small squeeze bringing your attention back to him,

“That is a compliment.” he continues. “It is good to see fresh ideas in the Continental.” 

You thank him quietly, thoughts racing as you try to pull everything together. He likes your ideas? All of the compliments, his hand on yours, the romantic location. Is he flirting with you? Does his speech about the way you do anything apply to him in the bedroom? What would that even be? Still annoying?

He takes a sip of his wine, the movement snapping you out of your perverted thoughts, finally, you find an opening for actual conversation. 

“I was thinking of something underground. With the catacombs? Or something inspired by them.”

You think he mumbled ‘tourist” under his breath but decided to let it slide. He tilts his head indicating you to keep going. 

“And something maybe like a speakeasy?” You saw him about to correct you but you kept speaking “Even though France only banned absinthe.” 

You expected him to be annoyed and you were only half right. Part of him was irritated, the other part proud that you are learning history. 

A slight clearing of the throat grabbed your attention. The food.

“Marquis de Gramont. Manager.” The server nodded toward you both before setting down the plates and leaving.  

The dinner a few weeks ago was the first time you spent time with him one on one (as long as you didn't include his guards). However, a quick mutual liking based on annoying each other took place. Almost like childish flirting, if you thought that he would date. Does he have an arranged marriage? You forbid yourself from googling Marquis traditions and rules. 

And maybe on the side of your friendship, you had a small crush. You tried to avoid it and push your feelings down to nothing, but a flash of his long legs in his exquisite style, or his voice pulls your feelings back to yourself.  

He could just be lonely. You didn't know his exact age but you guessed early 30s. Given the years of practice and training, those successful in your business were older. You were somewhat close to him in age, closer to him than some of the big names. 

Giving in you picked up your phone and punched in one of his numbers. While the phone rang you picture one of his staff bringing him the phone, probably on some kind of silver platter. On the few times you called him before one of his staff answered, asking you why you were calling. 

“Bonjour Mademoiselle. What do you need?” 

Oh shit. That's not his butler. That’s him. 

“Do you know much about wine? And are you free tomorrow night?” You try not to sound nervous and unsure on the phone, but his answering threw off your game. 

“Oui, and oui.”

Taglist: @heartrot666 (it will not let me tag you :-( )

[eternalslover]

WHY IS THERE NO WRITING FOR KEANU REEVES CHARACTERS IM ACTUALLY GOING BALLISTIC, I WANT HIM SO BAD WOOF WOOF GRRR, GOING ACTUALLY FERAL, PLEASE SOMEONE WRITE ABOUT HIM, MATRIX, JOHN WICK, BILL AND TED, CONSTANTINE, MATRIX, MATRIX, MATRIX DID I MENTION MATRIX PLEASE SOMEONE WRITE ABOUT HIS CHARACTER FROM THE MATRIX

WHERE DID MY CLOTHING GO?!?! I WANT HIM SO BAD HONESTLY HOW CAN YOU NOT WRITE ABOUT HIM?? ANGST, FLUFF, SMUT ECT ECT BIG ON FLUFF AND ANGST, THERE IS JUST SO MUCH SMUT IN THE WORLD BUT I WILL TAKE ANYTHING

[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.”

[the-abyss-of-fandoms]

John huffs as his hair falls into his face for the 5th time as he digs for his S/Os soon to be garden: For the last time….

Dog looks at John every time he huffs and mumbles:

Y/N notices John getting irritated with his hair as he works leaves the kitchen heading towards John

John notices their approach: What’s wrong

мое сердце? (stops moving their head as Y/N moves his hair back and puts something in his hair)

Y/N smiles happily at their work: There you go now you look cute and your hair won’t get in the way.

John looks at Y/Ns phone as they take a picture of him to see what they had done to him:

[b3ans0up]

THERE IS NOT ENOUGH JOHN WICK LOVE!🖤

[snowflakeanimelover]

Y/N: “at the clurb, we all fam.”

John: “what?”

Y/N: rolls their eyes, “At the clurb, we all fam.”

John: raises a brow and gives them a pointed confused look.

Y/N: sighs in defeat. “At the club, we are all family. Are you racist?”

John: “wtf is wrong with you? We’re in the middle of a fight.”

[feinv]

eeehehehe do you think you could write a short drabble or headcannons for being vampire! john wick’s virgin sacrifice (or fellow vampire girlfriend). i adore the idea of him playing with his food iykwim !

love and bloody kisses - 🦇anon

vampire!john wick x virgin!reader.

alright hear me out. imagine like in that world vampires need a sacrifice. they need to turn another human being into a vampire to become more powerful, more superior than their peers. but of course, there is a catch, it’s not that simple. they can’t just choose a random person. it needs to be someone who they love and are loved by, it needs to be someone who is willing to be turned AND a virgin. (i know too many boxes to check but that’s the deal stfu)

anyway. john wick was one lucky motherfucker cuz he hit a jackpot with you. obviously he wasn’t purposely searching for you, because true love isn’t something you can force or fake. so when he realized what exactly was happening, all his feelings towards you and his primal instincts just intensified. tenfolds.

he loved you dearly, and so he was patient. he gave you as much time you needed to open up, to trust him completely. he proved himself worthy of you countless of times, showing you that he is more than happy to spend the eternity worshipping your existence and giving you anything you would ever ask for, stars and moon be damned.

and of course, you loved him like you never loved anyone before, and his stupid attractiveness wasn’t helping either. so you were like ;) why not??

he often told you how exactly the so-called sacrifice would be, to prepare you mentally. you noticed his burgundy irises turning almost black at the mention of the immense power it would bring him, especially with you by his side forever, and you would crave it, just as much as he did.

yet, most importantly, the hunger in his eyes would be animalistic. deranged, when he thought of all the sinful things he would finally be able to do to you after the ritual. marking you as his in every way possible.

[sturid]

idk if anyone did this yet

[aranelp]

I Would *Love* an NSFW alphabet for

Duncan Idaho (dune)

marquis (John wick)

NSFW Alphabet

A/N: It’s looooong very long haha be prepared. Sorry for the delay and if sometimes I didn't write that much, two characters is long haha. Hope you appreciate it ! Forgive my english mistakes dear. ✨✨

Characters : Duncan Idaho (Dune) and The Marquis (John Wick)

Warning NSFW

Duncan Idaho

A = Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

Oh good he is so much in care. He will thanks you, giving you lot of hug and ask if you need anything, water ? eat? Whatever you want be sure I will give you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

He is really proud of his body, his musculature like he really works hard for it. if you compliment it he will be very happy.

Your thigh, like he really love that, touching it ect. And he also love your handzs tey are so sooooft he he loves it so much.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He prefered to cum on you like breeding kinks, he really love the fact of you caring his childs. And he doesn't want to make a big mess, so prefered in you.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He wants to fuck your thight, like having his dick surrounded by your thights. Please let him doing that, because one day he will ask you if he can doing that to you.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

He is not really THAT expirimented but Duncan knows what he is doing and he doesn't hesitate to ask you if everything is alright.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary, so he can look all over your body and kiss you. He really do appreciate that he can also whisper and says to you some words.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Clearly not serious, makes somes jokes with you but he will also flirt with you so much. He likes so much to teasing and flirting with you.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Oh he have lot of hairs he is really groomed particulary on his arms and legs. He is like a little bear.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Very very intimate, he really do likes to show to you his affections and how much he loves you.

J= Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He doesn't really masturbate himself like alone, he prefered to shared his love for you with you. He will only doing it if it been a moment that you doesn't see each others because he will miss you very much.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Like the breeding kinks, it clearly what he want the most, like cuming in you and gives you his semence in the hope that one day you will caring his kids.

L= Location (favorite places to do the do)

His favorite is definitely the bedroom. But you have propably making love with you on other place like the living room.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Tell him how much you loved him, and how much you have desire for him and you will be quick in the bed. Sometimes you didi innocent things but for him it feels hot.

N = No (something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

Anything that can hurt you more than spanking or choking and nothing with others fluids thant your cum.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

GIVING; he really likes to eat you. Trust his tongue he will gives you pleasure for sure. He didn't mind if you gives him of course but prefered so much to gives.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and

sensual? etc.)

Really depends on the mood, but most of the times he is really slow and sensual with you. Like for him he is making love not fucking you, that's an important difference for him.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how

often, etc.)

Not a big fan of quickies, he really prefers to take the time with you. He can doing it only if both of you are really really horny.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

No, he doesn't want to take risk or somethings. For him it's intimate and doesn't have to be 'shared'. He likes it on the private place.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Good stamina he can go for 2 rounds. With him one rounds is approximatively 30 minutes or an hour.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He actually didn't have toys he is not familiar with them, but if you ask him to add this in your sexuality he will not say no.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He really likes to tease you but not too much. Like it's a little game for him.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He is very loud, he moans and gruns a lot. He wants to make sure that you know how much he loves you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the

character)

Duncan do really like the idea of you wearing something of his, like a shirt of somethings. He finds it very sexy and hot that how much it's oversize for you.

X = X-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes)

Like he is not that much long but big, but clearly more than the average.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Like pretty good, he is not horny like everytime but he will love to makes out with you like two times in the week minimum.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep)

He will waits that you fall asleep and after he will go to sleep too.

The marquis

A = Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

He will make sure that you feel good and comfortable. Of course a hug and some kisses. Put some of your hairs behind your ear and whispering you some words of love.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

YOUR ASS. Driving him crazy. Like if you walk in front of him he will looks a lot… A LOT. So he likes touching it, squeeze it.

And he really also like a lot your hands. He likes holding it and kissing, it’s maybe a romantic side of him.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Obviously he likes to cum in you but je really do like a lot to cum on you. He doesn’t care if it can be a mess. He really love the views to you and his cum on your beautiful body.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

D.o.mi.n.a.t.e him, he wants to knows how it feels. Like every time he id dominant, possessive but in the bed he want to explore another things. And play says to him naughty things, in the bed or not. He fucking like that.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

I think he have some experiences, so you cant count on him for that. He knows and understands quickly how to give you pleasure.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggystyle for sure. He god he loves see your ass move because of his backstroke. He will takes gentle your hairs into one of his hands, pulling them a little bit.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Most of the timed he is serious in the moment, but well he wouldn’t mind from some jokes in the bed. But this is not very often.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He is not really groomed, he just have groomed under his belly and around his manhood. But that is not messy, he didn’t want his groomed to be messy right here.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Like despite what he represents, with you he is very romantic. The french romantism. But despite some romantic affections he wan be rough in the bed. Even if he degrades you, being rough ect… He is still that romantic. But if you ask it he can be more gentle and romantic in the bed.

J= Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Sometimes he is far from you but he is still horny, he wants you. So he will tell you like texting you how much he wants you and start to masturbate himself while exchanging horny text with you. ++ if you sense him intimate pictures. He will cum and thinks how much he would like to having you with him.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Mirrors. Oh god he likes that. He can see you in many angle as he fucks you. He fucking love that, so a pleasant view for him.

L= Location (favorite places to do the do)

Bed and sofa for sure. But you have probably fucked on every surface of his place and yours

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

If you have lingering on you, or having a big tee-shirt and juste under a little culotte. Oh you can be sure that it will turning him on. Like he will watching you with a hungry looks, even if you not doing something, you just walk ? Be sure he wills looking at you, your butt, your thigh. He can’t watch something else.

Talk naughty to himmmmm. He likes that so much, you being very naughty, saying to him how much you want him. And he is quickly yours to makes you scream his name.

N = No (something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

Not hurting you, no blood or things like that. He can be rough but never want that. I will refuse.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Receiving, he really like having you on your knees, his dick in your mouth and looking at him. Feeling how good your mouth taste, your hands on his balls. Oh damn he loves thats. Seeing your face like that while gently caressing your hairs. And the fact that he can receive in so many different places, he enjoys it.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and

sensual? etc.)

Rough most of the times, but slow. He gives a big coup of hips but he is slowly he will just accelerate to his own pleasure. He really like to feel all of you, your inside, arounds his dick. And he really wants to push it as deep as he can.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how

often, etc.)

Like he is not completely against that. Sometimes he will doing somes quickies. Bit he still prefers to not be. So he will giving your oral and receive a blowjobs. He preferes theses things to did for quickies. Or just if both of you are really horny he will kiss you deeply, see how much you are wet and put quickly his dick inside you, he wills ruins you faster, giving you quick and deep coup on your insides.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He doesn’t really care about risks. He didn’t really have experiment that but if he have with you an opportunity he wouldn’t minds. If you are a little more worried he will says "we don’t care if people seeing us. They just have to looked away". In reality he will makes sure that you are okay to experiment that with him.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Like in fact he have a good stamina, he cant stay for a very long time with you. He is little bit wild. He can go for 3-4 rounds if he is really

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He have a vibrator that he buy for you. So he clearly don't mind to used it on you when you are making loves, he do anything to add pleasure for you. He did'nt have toy from him and didn't really want one.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh he loves teasing you, most of the times. He is a real teaser, so I will continue until you beggin him to touch you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He is loud yeah, he will moans on your ear. He won't stop to making sounds and says to you dirty talk. Sometimes he do his best to stop making sounds just to heard you. Because he really likes that.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the

character)

Seeing you in lingerie is so much a turning on for him. He can't looks away from you. he loves so much your body, your shapes. Your body is so perfefct for him.

X = X-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes)

It's more large than the average. So yeah long but not htat much girthy.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

High sex drives, not his fault you are so hot for him. He is very horny for you. Maybe like 3-4 in a week.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep)

Waits you for falling asleep, he is a softie. And when you will fall asleep he will waits a little before sleeps too.

[matthew-gray-gublers-babygirl]

I’m not sure if you take requests but if you doooooo

Could you write a smutty fic w/ John Wick where the reader is Winston’s daughter and she visits him while he’s at the continental (just to check up if he needs anything and whatnot) and one thing leads to another…you know where I’m going with this 🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈

Muuuchhh loveeee 💕💕💕💕

Of course! Feel free to request anything else xx

Late Night Visitor - John Wick x Fem!Reader

Summary: Just smut. No story line really, but if you're interested in a mini-series for this I might write it! The reader is alone in the continental with John, and they fuck. (explained more in the request lmao)

Warnings: Smut (p in v), dominance, age gap (legal), swearing, mention of breeding kink

Word Count: 2.5k

Enjoy!

“Ah, Y/N. There you are, dear,” you hear your father say as you enter the lounge. “You remember Mr. Wick?” you hadn’t seen him in years. Your father, the New York Continental hotel manager, had tried to keep you away from his business. You met Mr. Wick a couple of times when you were younger. Your visits to the hotel were sparse because you were so young, but now that you’ve turned eight-teen, your father allowed you in the hotel more often. 

“Nice to see you again, Y/N,” he says. You swallow thickly. He was much taller than you and looked at you with piercing eyes. “Nice to see you, Mr. Wick…” You become quiet. You always stayed quiet around your father's clients, but you got especially quiet around Mr. Wick because he was undeniably attractive. 

You hear him laugh. “John is fine,” he tells you. You nod. You feel like you should bow. “Okay… John.”

He looks over at your father. “Well, I’ll be in my room if you need anything from me,” he says. “Winston, Y/N.” He nods with each name, and you feel the heat growing as you hear yours. 

Your eyes are still fixated on the ghosting silhouette of John when you feel a hand on your shoulder. “Y/N, dear,” your father begins. “I’ve got to go out for a small event. I’ll be back soon. Ask Charon if you need anything,” he explains. “Now, give your Papa a hug,” he tells you, and you give him a reserved hug before being escorted out of the lounge room and to your room.

John Wick was staying in the hotel tonight, and your father was gone. You lay in your bed picturing yourself knocking on his door. You laugh. Like you’d have the balls. You decide to wander the hotel corridors for a bit, hoping that you would cross paths with John. 

You saw John a couple of times every year. With every passing year and your body becoming more developed into a young woman, you noticed that Mr. Wick's eyes lingered for much too long. You liked it, though. It felt wrong to have a man triple your age looking at you like that, God knows your father would be furious, but you couldn't shake that feeling of yearning for his hands to grab you and never let go. The hands which have killed many.

You reach the tenth floor. John always preferred the view of the tenth story. You walk through the hall, reaching the end room. Mr. Wick always reserved that room for himself, if not directly to Charon, then it was reserved out of courtesy for his long-time commitment and loyalty to your father. 

With each step closer to the door, your heart rate raises a digit. Your hand ghosts the wood before you hit a few raps at the door. You don’t know what compelled you to knock; you don’t know what compelled you to even leave your room. You hear shuffling through the barrier. The door quickly opens and youre met with John. He was only in a white undershirt and his dress pants. They look wrinkled and poorly buttoned.

“Oh. Y/N.” he says. “I didn’t expect to see you. Everything alright, I assume?”

You gulp; thicker than before. “Yes, John. Everything fine,” you say, and his jaw tenses at your words. “Just wanted to check on you, that's all. Considering youre a good friend of my father,” you explain. 

There’s a small period of silence before you hear John begin to speak. “Would you like to come in?” he asks. You nod, and he moves out of the doorway for you to enter. He shuts the door behind you and locks it. You hear the lock but don't mention it to John. You prefer it to be locked.

You notice a small concave in the mattress as it slowly disappears with the absence of weight on the memory foam. John must’ve been laying down when you came in. 

You make your way to the small lounge area of the hotel room. “Is everything good with your room?” you ask, and John laughs. “You’re sounding like your father,” he says, covering his smile with his hand. 

Youre almost offended. “What is that supposed to mean?” you put on that annoying tone you used to use when you were 16. Your father hated it. 

John stands in front of you as you stay seated. “No, no. It's not a bad thing, I promise,” he explains. “Your father is very intelligent and wise.” where is he going with this? “You are definitely both those things. I’ve watched you become a beautiful young woman, you’re very mature.”

His hand moves in his palm, he forces it into his pocket to stop any movements. “You’re taking a big risk, you know?”

You put on your most innocent tone, breathy, almost Marilyn Monroe-like. “Risk? What do you mean by risk?” your doe eyes are accentuated even more as your head is forced to look up from your seat. 

John turns his gaze away from yours. If he looked any longer he wouldn't be able to control himself. He bites his lower lip, then swiftly looks at you again. “Being here is a risk. Being in my hotel room. Don’t you have any idea what your father would do if he found out you were in my hotel room at-” he checks his watch, “-God, almost 10 o’clock at night, Y/N. He’d kill me with his own to two hands.”

That still didn’t answer your question. “What if I want to take a risk?” Johns breathing gets heavy, and so does yours. The steady, yet contrasting movement of your lungs inside your chest made it almost impossible for John not to look at your breast which you had exposed for that very reason. 

Johns’ hand reached out of his pocket and gently lands on your chin, index finger and thumb cradling your jaw. “Are you sure you can handle something like that?” He asks. His thumb grazes against your bottom lip and you kiss the pad of his thumb; rough and callused. 

“I’ve never been more sure.” Suddenly, the gentle touch of his fingers turns rough. His entire hand cups your cheek as he brings you off the lounge chair. You stand up; even with both of you standing, the height difference was still noticeable. He kisses you. His touch is hungry and impatient. His free hand lingers down your waist, and you grab it, forcing it onto your rear. He squeezes your arse, forcing a whine out of you. 

John parts for a second. His breath hits your lips. He takes a moment to process what he just did. He didn't know if he should continue. You needed him to continue. 

“Kiss me again,” you tell him, and he does. His kiss is rough, yearning for more. He takes you to the bed and throws you onto it. He didn't ask if you ‘wanted to’. He already knew you were soaking wet for him. 

He almost rips off his undershirt. His chest was covered in tattoos and scars. You want to touch him; let your hands run over every muscle, but your hands were occupied with your shirt and the struggle of removing it. John assists you and almost whimpers at the sight of your breasts. 

Johns’ sore hands reach to your chest, fondling your young breasts. His thumb runs over your nipple, causing it to harden under the pad of his finger. The pool of arousal between your legs was growing irritable by the second. 

“John…” you whimper. “Yes?” he asks, and for a moment he sounds concerned like he’s done something wrong. You hesitate your words, because to tell the truth, you’ve never said anything out loud like that. Yes, you’ve had sex. You’re not a virgin, no matter how badly John wished he could have taken it. But you never had a proper fucking. The guys you have been with, which for the record was not pleasing for you, had no idea what they were doing. On the other hand, John was almost thirty years your senior, and you knew he was experienced. 

“Fuck me,” 

John freezes at the words. He hadn’t heard something like that in a long time, and he especially didn't expect to hear it from you. Once he snapped out of the distraction, he wasted no time removing your pants and panties. 

“Not gonna make it even, Mr. Wick?” you cock an eyebrow at his surname as your hands reach for his waistband. He helps with the buttons and zip, and removes them entirely, boxers included. 

Your mouth basically waters at the sight of his cock. It was much bigger than you have ever taken. 

“Are you- uh,” he gets distracted by the sight of your wet pussy. “Are you a virgin?” he manages to get out. You shake your head. “I’ve had sex before. Just not very good sex,” you explain. He takes his bottom lip between his teeth. “So you’ve never had a proper fucking before?” he asks, and you shake your head again. “I’m going to change that, then,” 

You feel Johns rough fingers touch your gentle clit. He slowly circles the bud, collecting a small amount of your arousal on his fingertips. His fingers linger for a moment as small whimpers come from you, then he ventures down further. He spreads your lips with his fingers, letting his digits slide between them. 

It was strange because the two men (if you could call them men) you’ve been with never focused on your pleasure as they did in the erotic literature you read. They just stuck it in and went until they came. John wasn't doing that, no matter how hard it was to resist. 

John retracts his fingers for a moment and licks them to add extra lubricant. He hums at the taste of your arousal on his fingers. He brings the digits back to your core, and with a nod of approval, he inserts them. You whine at the penetration. You of course had fingered yourself before, but your fingers were much smaller than Johns. 

He begins pumping them in and out. He starts slow because the last thing on earth he would want to do was hurt you. As your whimpers turn to whines, he moves them faster. You moan softly and reach a hand to circle your clit. John quickly swats your hand away, taking control of your clit. You moan out his name along with many more unprintable obscenities. 

John feels your walls clench around his fingers. Your moans grow louder, and just as youre about to feel your release, a sudden emptiness fills you. John licks his fingers clean as your high slowly fades away. “But-” you mumble, and John tuts you. “Just wait,” he says. “You’ll come in no time, and it will be fucking amazing,” he ensures you. 

He looks down at his cock, ready to fill you up entirely when he realized he didn't have a condom. “Shit,” he muttered. “There should be some in the bathroom. They’re pretty accommodative here,” you say and almost giggle. John nods, stands up from the bed and grabs a condom from one of the neatly organized drawers. He returns to the bed, rolls on the condom, then aligns his tip with your entrance. You give him a nod and less than a second later he was filling you up to the brim. 

You yell out as he stretches you. “Holy fuck!” you’d be surprised if the neighbouring hotel rooms couldn't hear. You quickly shake off Johns' worries. “No, no. Keep going-” you assure him. You never wanted him to stop. 

After you gave him the O.K, he began thrusting into you. His hands gripped your hips as his cock moved in and out of you. You grabbed his hands, forcing him to pin you down. 

“Dirty girl,” he grins, and you moan in response. He forces your wrists into the bed, tightly gripping them as he slams his pelvis into yours, rewarding him with another one of your sweet and erotic moans. “Don’t… don’t stop!” you breathe out, and John smirks. “Didn’t plan to,” he replies as he thrusts into you again. You beg him to go faster, and he complies. Your moans become uncontrollable as his cock plunges in and out of you, his length hitting every pleasure sensor to send you through the roof. 

John grips your palms tighter as his breathing gets heavier. “Fuck… Y/N,” he groans. “Gonna be a good girl for me? Hm?” you immediately nod. You were going to be a good girl. You wanted to be his good girl. “Gonna need an answer there, sweetheart.” you suppress your moans so you can get out a single phrase to please him. “Yes!” you say. “I’ll be – holy fuck! I’ll be good, I- I promise,” John smirks. You look so needy and helpless. “That's what I thought,” he says before kissing you hungrily. 

His tongue reaches untouched places in your mouth, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth and leaving hickeys everywhere he could lay his lips. You whine at his hot breath suctioning your skin. You knew your father would be furious that you had hickeys, but you couldn't care any less. 

John feels your walls clench around his length. You were close again. You begin crying out, begging for some form of release. “Gonna be a good girl and come?” you already know he needs a verbal response. “Yes, I’ll be so good and come for you…!” you moan. Your eyes roll back into your head; body numb like the familiar effects of an edible. 

John returns his mouth to your neck, sucking hot welts onto your delicate skin as he growls praises and demands into your ear. He was close too, and he couldn't wait much longer. The sound of his low, raspy voice in your ear, for you and only you to hear, was the thing you needed to push you over the edge. The pleasure rushes over you like a tidal wave, a completely unfamiliar feeling of ecstasy. Bells ring in your ears as your shout out obscenities, unable to hear them over the deafening sound of your body reacting to the orgasm.

John groans loudly as your walls tighten around him. “Fuck!” he yells. His hips shudder, hard thrusts becoming sloppy. He lets out a masculine moan, bucking his hips towards yours as he spills his arousal into the condom. He wished he could fill you up; watch as his come dripped out of you. He was already taking the risk of having sex with you, he wouldn't risk getting you pregnant, even if it turned him on like you couldn't imagine.

He pulls out, leaving you with an empty feeling, wishing for the overflowing sense to return. John removes the condom before collapsing on the bed beside you.

“John… holy fuck -” you huff, chest still heaving rapidly. John smirks at what he's done; proud of his work. “Bet that was way better than whatever guys you’ve been with,” he says, the cocky side of him coming out strong. You nod and laugh. “Way better.”

Read part two -> Here

[21stcenturyyfoxx]

My love for Johnathan Wick has been reignited. Might fuck around and write for him again.

[writingbyshiloh]

Cautious yet Optimistic and Graceful Part 2

Part 1 & Part 3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Correct.”. 

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

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

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

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

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

“You have a cartographer here, no?”

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

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

“Tonight.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wow. Thanks, you think. 

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

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

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

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

“We are fine.” He replies. 

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

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

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

“Bonne nuit, Mademoiselle” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pain. A sharp burning pain on your pinky finger. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t have to smoke it.” 

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

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

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

“I will go, and let you read it.” 

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

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

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

Taglist: @heartrot666

[layce2015]

John Wick Chapter 4 (John Wick x Female!Reader) Masterlist

With the price on his head ever increasing, legendary hit man John Wick and his wife, (y/n), take their fight against the High Table global as they seek out the most powerful players in the underworld, from New York to Paris to Japan to Berlin.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

[ilongfor-the-arts]

Tea and Music

Pairing: Marquis de Gramont x fem! Reader

Warnings: smut!, language, mild begging, choking, unprotected sex, use of “good girl”

Summary: Part two of Poetry in Motion! These are the events that happen after Marquis meets our ballerina reader.

Word Count: 6.7k

Read Part one HERE!!!

Taglist: @jiawalker

The limo crushed the small stones under its tires as it drove along the white gravel path. The entire estate was completely covered in trees and green once we passed through the golden gates. I couldn't see the sides of the gate from the car, so I assumed his estate extended for miles.

Not a blade of grass was out of place.

I would have flirted with Vincent sooner if I had known he was concealing a mansion.

Our conversation two nights ago was extremely straightforward. He introduced himself, and I asked him one question before he insisted on speaking with me in person.

His address was on a street I'd never heard of before. I thought that perhaps it was in the Paris slums. His fancy suits and elegant demeanor were just a ruse to convince people he was wealthy.

But, alas, he lives in a mansion. Who would’ve guessed?

As the car approached the large front doors, I tried to hide my surprise. His house was something out of a movie. To take it all in, I had to turn my head completely left and right. It possessed at least three levels. It was made of lovely white vintage brick and black shingles. Two poles supported an enormous balcony on opposite sides of the large double front doors.There were dozens of tall arched windows. The architecture was inspired by the French countryside, but it was elevated to the highest level.

It appeared vintage and loved, but not worn.

“Alright madame, we are here.”

My trance was broken by the posh driver.

“Oh, yes.”

He opened the door for me, offering his hand to ensure that I would not be inconvenienced in the slightest.

I could grow accustomed to this type of treatment.

I hoisted myself up by grasping his smooth palm.

“Have a pleasant visit, madame.”

He spoke with a classy accent. His elegance, however, couldn't compete with Vincent's. The elderly driver jumped back into the driver's seat and began bustling away, rocks crunching beneath the tires.

I cocked my head upwards, hesitant. I could feel nerves brewing within my stomach. The butterflies were flying free. I took a deep breath, steadying my mind.

I honed in on the rustling of the trees, waiting until the butterflies had completely dissipated.

I couldn’t believe I was about to enter the home of a man I had just met.

I knew his name.

I knew he liked ballet.

I knew where he lived.

And, that’s it.

I climbed the few steps leading to the glass double doors.

Should I knock?

No, he was expecting me.

I gently pushed open the door. The hinges didn't creak in the least.

The doors opened to reveal a large room with white marble floors and a double staircase that swirled to the top floor. The banisters were made of gold, the dark wood walls were covered in expensive-looking paintings, and each room was separated by a large, open arch.

“Hello? I’m here!”

The waves of my voice echoed around the large, nearly empty room. I felt dwarfed by the high ceilings.

“Welcome.”

my heart skipped a beat. Vincent appeared out of nowhere, sauntering through the archway on my left, hands in pockets.

He remained silent, waiting for me to break the tension.

“Uh-Thank you for having me… your house is beautiful.”

As the gravity of the situation became clear, my tone became somewhat shaky. Vincent gave a small smile.

“Thank you very much. I have quite a few estates-“

Woah, woah, woah. A few estates? As in more than one?

“But this one is by far my favorite. It’s lavish, and quiet.”

The trees gently rustled. In the distance, birds chirped. My heart was pounding in my ears.

“See? Nothing. No sounds except those of nature.”

My knees shook. Those two previous statements felt like one big, blatant sexual innuendo. I hoped that sex wasn't the sole reason for having me in this lovely estate that just so happened to have no neighbors for miles.

He leaned against the wooden arch, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his dress pants. Vincent furrowed his brow as he observed my concern.

“Please, don’t be worried. I know I was just given the pleasure of becoming your acquaintance. But, I assure you, I possess a sophisticated character.”

The corners of his mouth turned upwards.

“Come.”

He said this as he stepped away from the arch, motioning for me to follow him into the next room.

“I have something I believe you will enjoy.”

I returned his stare. His beautiful eyes shone with warmth. He seemed to have changed slightly now that I was in his house. He appeared to be... more at ease. Neither his gaze nor his tone indicated any discomfort. He was no longer concerned with maintaining any sort of facade.

I couldn't bring myself to be afraid of him.

I smiled.

“Alright.”

My short heels clacked against the marble. As I strolled past him, I captured his familiar scent and was overcome with nostalgia.

The room I entered was significantly smaller than the one prior. Rather than being adorned in paintings, there was merely one green landscape above the unlit fireplace. One wall was entirely covered in wooden shelves, each of which was crammed to the brim. When I looked closer, I noticed that each section was filled with vinyl records. Some are still wrapped in plastic, while others have clearly been loved for years.

“Oh wow! You have quite the collection!”

I exclaimed as I ran my fingers along the spines of various records. Marquis laughed, amused by my intense interest.

“Oh wow!”

I had to use a surprising amount of force to pry one of the vinyls off the shelf as it was jammed into a completely full rack.

“You have the music from Giselle!”

Vincent strolled over to me, leaning over my shoulder to observe what had captured my attention. It was a record, with a lady and man engaged in dance. The lady wore a blouse and bodice, while the man donned tights and a decorated top.

“Do you enjoy this ballet?”

His hot breath cascaded across my face and neck as he inquired. A shiver ran down my spine as I realized he had placed his frame directly behind mine.

“Yes, I do. I was in it a long time ago. And, ever since it’s been one of my favorites.”

“Ah, you were in it?”

I flipped the vinyl to the back, reading each track and reminiscing.

“Yes, I was Giselle.”

“But of course you were.”

I scoffed, dismissing his high opinions of me.

“It really was not that impressive. It was a small community theater, and it was years ago before I decided to pursue ballet professionally.”

“It makes little difference where you do it. I'm sure you danced as well as someone from the Opéra National de Paris. Your talent is just as visible in a small theater as it is in the world's largest.”

I pushed my finger between two vinyls to create a gap so I could slip the record back into its original position.

“You flatter me.”

Vincent dragged his fingertips along the spines. As he did so, I fixed my attention along his veiny digits, my brain beginning to slip into places it hadn't been in a long time. I closed my eyes, forcing my mind to return to the present. Vincent drew his gaze across the records, studying them and searching for a specific item.

“Ah!”

He discovered what he was looking for.

“Swan Lake, another one of my favorites.”

He pulled it from the shelf and began to study it.

“Tchaikovsky's music is a work of art. He manipulates the instruments, allowing them to move in a poetic manner. It truly is unparalleled.”

He cocked his head to the side, meeting my eyes.

“Do you enjoy this ballet?”

He raised his brows, inviting me to respond. I shuffled towards his hot body, nodding.

“Yes, of course, it’s a classic.”

This cover depicted a woman bending over a lake, with a swan at her side. Beautiful blues were used to paint the entire cover.

“One of my dream roles is the swan queen.”

Vincent's lanky fingers pried the record's cover apart, and he slid the vinyl into his palm.

“One day, that role will be yours. I have no doubt about it.”

He handled the record with extreme grace and care. Despite being a large and rather intimidating man, his touch was featherlight. He opened a small cabinet located in the middle of the shelves with his opposite hand, revealing a beautiful maroon record player.

“And when you appear as the swan queen, it will be your role for the rest of your life. The audience will know instantaneously that no performance before or after yours will compare.”

Vincent placed the needle on the record's edge. The sound of a rich oboe filled the entire room. He placed his hands on his hips and viewed the black circle spin in a circle. The atmosphere became cozy and inviting. Despite being in a secluded mansion in the middle of the French countryside, I felt oddly at home. My heartbeat was regular.

Vincent glanced over his shoulder.

“Do you drink tea?”

He inquired.

I was so enthralled by Vincent's lovely figure that I had to shake myself awake when he spoke.

“Oh! Yes, of course. I love tea.”

Vincent unbuttoned the cuffs of his white dress shirt, rolling his sleeves up to reveal lovely veins dancing across his forearms. I gulped, my face growing hotter as butterflies began to hatch within my lower abdomen.

“Would you care to drink tea with me on the porch as we indulge in this lovely music?”

I nodded, unable to hide the grin playing on the corners of my mouth.

“I would like that very much.”

-

Vincent brought out a large silver tray, atop which was a lovely china set with pink flowers and gold stems.

“I would expect a wealthy man like you to have help. Rich men don’t make their own tea.”

I said, my tone slightly mocking. Vincent chuckled, plopping down onto the cream colored cushions.

“I don't usually make my own tea. But I specifically requested that we spend the day alone. The bustle of people detracts from the peaceful energy.”

I put a sugar cube in one of the adorable cups and poured tea on top, watching the sugar break and dissolve.

I picked up the saucer and leaned back, my body relaxing against the plush cushions. I had a fantastic view. My back was to the house, leaving the entire garden open for inspection. The green stretched as far as the eye could see, interrupted only by a few healthy trees. The property had a gray gravel path that twisted and turned. At the horizon, the gentle hill of the land met the flawless blue sky.

The scenery was lovely. I wish I knew how to paint.

My hair was tousled by a gentle breeze. The soothing music wafted through the house, reaching my ears as a mere whisper.

“Are you enjoying the view?”

I closed my eyes for a brief moment, savoring the cozy energy as I sipped my tea. The steaming liquid poured down my throat, warming me from within.

“Yes, it’s beautiful.”

I rested the cup in my lap.

“Why don’t you tell me about yourself? I feel like we talk so much about me.”

I said, chuckling slightly.

Vincent sipped his tea while crossing his legs and gazing out at the horizon. His gorgeous side profile was highlighted by the gentle glow of the sun.

“My life is… not very interesting.”

His demeanor had transformed. Instead of being charming, he had become aloof.

“Oh, I’m sure your life is plenty interesting. I mean, come on, this house is ginormous! What do you do?”

Vincent grit his teeth, avoiding the question.

“I made all of my money in real estate.”

He returned my gaze, his fondness restored.

“Oh! That sounds interesting.”

I took another sip of my delicious tea.

“You must’ve gotten extremely lucky.”

He flashed me a tight smile.

“Yes, absolutely. I consider myself extremely fortunate to be where I am now.”

The birds in the distance chirped peacefully, blending with the music to create a cohesive energy that flowed through my being.

“Please, tell me if I am crossing any boundaries with this question.”

I perked up. He had piqued my interest.

“However, you are a very attractive woman. And you are constantly expressing yourself through the arts. I find it difficult to believe you don't have suitors flocking to you at all times.”

I gulped, my gaze fixed on the tea in my lap.

“Well, honestly, it’s difficult to keep a relationship when you’re constantly either in the theater, or searching for your next opportunity. The little free time I have almost never lines up with the free time of others.”

He fixed his gaze on me, listening intently to every word I said. I'd never had a conversation with a man who was so enthralled by me.

“I’ve had relationships, but it's difficult to make them stick. Lately, I’ve kinda given up. It’s stressful, y’know?”

Vincent hummed.

“Yes, I can imagine.”

He sipped his tea one last time, leaning back completely to display his stunning neck. He leaned forward and placed the china cup atop its saucer before assuming his previous position.

"Well, with me, you never have to worry about that, ma chérie." My few important obligations rarely interfere with my personal life. And, if they do, I promise to commit to our relationship and not let it fall through the cracks."

His dedication surprised me. I raised my brows.

“Well, that is very kind of you. I appreciate the reassurance.”

“That is, if pursuing a relationship with me is something that entices you.”

His statement piqued my interest. I suppose I hadn't considered the question, "What are we?" I was definitely interested in pursuing a relationship with him, despite only having become acquainted a few days ago. I felt a genuine connection, and I'd be a fool to pass up this opportunity.

Also, the reality that he was filthy rich drew me to him.

I finished the sweet tea, placing it on the black wire coffee table.

“Yes, I believe I would be interested in that.”

I gave him a genuine smile, which he returned.

“Good, I am glad to hear that.”

He folded his hands and tucked them into his lap, his gaze following. He was deep in thought, as if caught between reality and his thoughts. Vincent came to after what seemed like an eternity. He returned his gaze to mine. His attention had been drawn to a new emotion. He was looking at me with calculating eyes, as if he was carefully pondering what to say next.

This was unusual for him, as he always seemed to know exactly what to say.

“I don’t mean to sound creepy when I say this, but I have been admiring you for a while.”

To be honest, I didn't mind. And I didn't think he was creepy at all for expressing his admiration for me.

“In all honesty, I’m flattered. The way I see it, I wouldn’t put myself on the stage if I was afraid of extreme admiration. I mean, that is kind of the goal of a performer. Y’know, to make people fall in love with the performance.”

Vincent nodded, his smile widening. He was pleased with my response.

“I recall seeing you perform for the first time. It was about two years ago, in Coppélia. You played a minor role, but your beauty captivated me, and the more I sought you out, the more I fell in love.”

There was something sensual about the thought of Vincent admiring me from afar for years. It all seemed so forbidden, him watching me from a box, carefully calculating the best time to ask me out.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why didn’t you ask me out sooner?”

Vincent shrugged.

“I assumed you were in a relationship. I tried to forget about you, but you were always on my mind. Then I didn't see you at the Opéra national de Paris for a year. My job was particularly demanding at that time. It was best if I concentrated solely on that. So I didn't go looking for you. I assumed that chapter of my life had come to an end. Then I notice you're performing in La Bayadère. And I knew that whatever force governs our universe had given me the opportunity to become your acquaintance.”

I couldn’t stop my face from breaking into a grin. I’ll admit, it felt insanely good to be admired by someone.

“Are you a nostalgic person?”

Yes, extremely.

“Yes, I am.”

“Ah!”

He exclaimed, rising to his feet.

“In that case, I have one more thing I think you would like to see.”

I followed him through the house. If I didn’t have him, I would undoubtedly be lost. Each lavish hallway felt as if it extended for miles. I followed, and followed, and followed. Until eventually we reached a pair of black double doors. They were covered in beautiful flower designs. Vincent turned the golden knobs, pushing the doors open to reveal… a bedroom?

Wow.

It was a nice bedroom, to be sure. The floors were tan wood, and the walls were a dark brown color. A large, black chandelier hung from the ceiling with an expensive crystal thread. The bedframe, curtains, and dresser with a large mirror all looked like they were plucked from the queen's bedroom.

In fact, the whole place felt like it belonged to a king. The gold accents, intricate details, and visibly expensive fabrics all gave me the impression that I was in Buckingham Palace.

Vincent headed over to his dresser, which was located on the opposite side of the room as the bed. He began rummaging through various objects, searching for something.

“Ah! Here it is! I knew I kept it!”

He gave me... a leaflet? No, it's a program. It was the program from my first performance ever at the Opera Nacional de Paris, Coppélia. My eyes shot open.

“Oh my God! I can’t believe you kept this!”

I flipped through it, reading the names and contemplating all the wonderful people I'd had the pleasure of working with.

“Of course I kept it.”

I raised my eyes to him. He smiled, pleased that I had found enjoyment in this little bit of nostalgia.

“Um-”

I began.

“I-I don’t mean to take your memories from you.”

I said with a small laugh.

“But, would you mind if I kept this?”

“But of course! There is no need for me to keep a silly little booklet now that I have had the pleasure of meeting the object of my affection.”

We shared a moment of peaceful, happy silence.

“Besides, if it makes you happy, I'll gladly give it to you. We've decided to pursue a relationship. So, it is my responsibility to do everything in my power to please you.”

His gaze darted to my lips before returning to my eyes, implying something taboo.

His eyes grew dark. My posture became stiff. Vincent took a large step towards me, and I had to tilt my head almost completely backwards to look him in the eyes.

I was hit with a wave of déjà vu. I was no longer on the streets of Paris, but rather in Vincent's bedroom. This time, there was nothing preventing us from delving head first into our desires.

He cupped my cheek, running his calloused thumb over my cheekbone. My breath caught in my throat. My lower abdomen was in knots, more from anticipation than from nerves. There wasn't much that could happen on the dark streets of Paris. But suddenly everything was possible and within reach. All I had to do was reach out and grab them.

“The relationships you’ve been in… have any of them had the pleasure of…”

His voice trailed off, beckoning me to finish the thought.

I gulped, a lump forming in my throat.

“No.”

My voice quivered as I felt overpowered by his pressing gaze.

Vincent tutted crispy.

“Pity.”

He stated, his voice lowering to a sensuous whisper. I envisioned him whispering sweet nothings into my ear while thrusting mercilessly into my tight cunt.

My stomach flipped.

My knees shook.

All of the blood in my body rushed to my core.

Wetness began to pool in my panties.

I adjusted my weight uncomfortably, anticipating Vincent's next move.

He leaned forward, his lips inches away from mine. I desperately wanted to break the tension by pressing my mouth to his, thereby beginning the downward spiral of pleasure. However, my train of thought was derailed when I felt Vincent’s opposite hand glide up my thigh.

I squeezed my eyes shut, sighing in pleasure as his digits swiftly located my clothed clit. He tenderly massaged my sensitive bud. The subtle sensation was utterly euphoric. My head bowed forward, my hands anxiously clutching his white dress shirt.

Vincent jerked my head upwards, forcing my misty eyes to lock with his lust blown pupils.

“You’re already so wet, ma chérie. And I have barely even touched you.”

His velvety accent became 10 times more seductive now that it had fallen an octave.

“Oh, it will be so wonderful to watch you come undone.”

He pressed his plush lips to my jugular, applying gentle kisses to my neck as he continued to draw figure eights onto my clothed clit. I threw my arms around his neck, hanging onto his strong frame as my knees threatened to give out.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to bury my face between your thighs and taste your sweet little cunt.”

I couldn’t handle the erotic tone combined with the featherlight touches to my clit. It was far too much for my touch starved body to handle. needed something. I was ravenous for his mouth, his fingers, his cock. I wanted so badly to be destroyed by him, to be given such pleasure that I fear coming back to reality.

“Vincent.”

I said between heavy breaths.

“Yes ma chérie?”

My jaw hung upon, mouth unable to form coherent sentences.

“P-Please. I need you-I need you so bad.”

Vincent drew back, his lips slamming into mine. Our mouths matched like puzzle pieces. We were so glorious together that I swear I could hear angels singing in perfect harmony.

“What would you like me to do to you ma belle, hm?”

He said in between fiery kisses.

“Make me cum, Vincent, please.”

His tongue slid into my mouth, giving me a fleeting taste of his passion before he quickly yanked it back. I was flustered. Our connection had been severed, and I was unsure as to why.

Vincent grasped my chin, forcing me to keep my head still.

His hair was struggling to remain neat. The single, dangling strand was a great metaphor for his once well-kept demeanor now crumbling before my eyes.

“Beg. Beg me to fuck you. Beg me to make you cum.”

He demanded.

Mt jaw quivered. His hand had retreated from my core and now lay atop the swell of my hip.

“P-Please Vincent. I need you. I need you so bad.”

Vincent narrowed his eyes disapprovingly.

“Oh, ma chérie, I know you can do better than that.”

He placed his lips to mine, swiftly reigniting the flame before suffocating it once more.

“Be my good girl and beg.”

I locked gazes with Vincent, feeling his sexual energy course through my body in waves.

“Please-“

I began, my desire somewhat strangling the words within my throat.

“Please Vincent… Please, I need you to make me cum.”

I brought my palms to his chest, attempting to quickly unbutton his dress shirt. Unfortunately, my hands were far too jittery and the buttons were far too small for me to make any significant progress.

“What exactly do you want ma belle, hm? Tell me.”

His velvety accent wafted through me whenever he spoke, adding to the wetness that had begun to pool in my panties.

“Please, please. I need you.”

Thankfully, the sexual tension had subsided just enough for me to compose meaningful sentences.

“Please, please, I need you. I need your mouth between my legs. I need-I need you to fuck me. I need your cock so bad. Please, please make me cum it’s all I can think about.”

A devious smirk spread across Vincent’s face.

“Why didn’t you ask me sooner?”

He connected our lips, reigniting the raging fire of desire that burned between us. Vincent hoisted me off the floor, his large hands traveling up my short sundress and resting against my ass. He carried me with ease, his hands gentle but his lips aggressive.

Vincent tossed me onto the bed with little regard for tenderness. However, I was barely impacted by the blow, as the mattress quickly suppressed and conformed to my physique.

I lay, my gaze fixed upwards towards Vincent’s lanky frame. The dim yet sensual lights foregrounded the sharp curvatures of his face. His long digits located his top button and he began to leisurely undo his shirt without breaking eye contact.

Suddenly, I became aware that my dress had ridden up my thighs, exposing my evident desire. I grasped the hem, pushing it downwards in a futile attempt to conceal my yearning. Vincent ceased his movements, crawling over the end of the bedframe with haste.

His hand wrapped around my wrist, pinning my hand above my head.

My eyes darted upwards, the breath hitching in my throat as I perceived his close proximity. Vincent’s previously quintessential appearance was slowly dissolving. A few strands of hair had broken loose from their original location and were now dangling aimlessly above his brow. Furthermore, his shirt was halfway undone, exposing his prominent collarbone and somewhat highlighting his toned chest.

“Don’t cover up for me, ma belle.”

He murmured, his sultry accent sending a wave of desire to my lower abdomen. My cunt throbbed.

“I want nothing more than to see every inch of you.”

Vincent lodged his thigh between my legs, his clothed knee grazing against my hot core. I jolted, a wave of heat coursing through my body. My back arched instinctively, mouth falling open as I involuntarily ground my hips against his thigh in an effort to increase friction.

Unfortunately, he revoked his leg before I was able to procure further pleasure. His free hand followed the soft curve of my side, sending shivers down my spine. My body became cold with anticipation. Goosebumps rose along my skin.

Vincent’s calloused fingertips grazed against my clothed clit. Heat radiated from my wet core as I squeezed my eyes shut. My brow furrowed as he began to slowly draw figure eights onto my clit.

“Ah, you are so wet and I’ve barely even touched you.”

His soft lips connected to my jugular, peppering gentle kisses down my neck.

“I’ve thought about this moment for a long while.”

With his hands required to support his weight as he descended, his powerful clasp released my wrist. I entangled my fingers in his silky hair, further ruining his pristine image.

“Although I pride myself on maintaining a certain level of class, I can’t deny that I’ve often thought about how satisfying it would be to bring you immense pleasure.”

He continued to press his lips against my hot skin, his face now level with my clothed breasts.

Vincent leaned back on his knees. He dragged his eyes up and down my frame, running his tongue across his bottom lip. I suddenly felt small under his gaze.

His tender fingertips located the ball of my ankle, and he hastily removed both of my short heels, tossing them aimlessly to the floor. After he had discarded my shoes, he trailed his large palms upwards, caressing my calves, then my thighs. I watched intently as his veiny hands slipped under the hem of my dress. Vincent hooked a finger in the waistband of my panties, dragging them down my legs at a painfully slow pace.

Once I was fully exposed, he assumed a position between my legs. Thankfully, the bed was grand enough for him to lay comfortably.

All the blood in my body had rushed to my core, and I could feel my heartbeat throbbing vehemently within my lower abdomen.

Vincent trailed his moist lips along my inner thigh, gazing up at me devilishly through his lashes as he did so. He was well aware that his teasing behavior was propelling me into a state of lust filled desperation.

When he established that he had prolonged my suffering enough, he hastily buried his face between my thighs. I gasped, throwing my head back onto the opulent pillows. My thighs instinctively clenched around his head, but Vincent’s strong hands pulled my legs apart to free himself.

He flattened his tongue against my clit, taking his time to draw out his movements so as to not supply me with an orgasm too hastily. He was thoroughly enjoying the elongation of my pleasure.

After a brief moment of supplying delicate sensations to my clit, I felt the tip of his finger prod at my entrance. I threw my hands upwards, grasping onto the bed frame, my knuckles quickly turning white.

“Oh fuck!”

I exclaimed, grinding my hips against his gorgeous face.

“Vincent-Vincent your mouth feels so good, holy shit.”

I spoke in mangled cries, not caring to keep my voice down. After all, there was no one around for miles to be bothered by my proclamations.

His middle two fingers pushed into my entrance, thrusting upwards to stimulate my walls.

“You taste wonderful, ma belle.”

He uttered, continuing to fuck me with his fingers throguhout the duration of his praise. Vincent located my g spot. My nails dug into the bedframe, undoubtedly leaving prominent scratches. He took note of my non verbal cues.

Vincent increased the intensity of his fingers. Quickly, the coil of pleasure began to tighten within my lower abdomen. I bucked my hips against his face, but Vincent quickly stifled my movements by pressing my hips into the mattress.

“Are you close?”

He murmured against my clit. The gentle vibrations set my nerves ablaze with white hot desire.

“Yeah, yeah I’m so close.”

I mumbled, my arms beginning to tremble as I squeezed my eyes shut. I felt my orgasm begin to seep into the corners of my brain.

Vincent’s long digits expertly located my g spot with every thrust.

His warm mouth continued to duck and stimulate my swollen bundle of nerves.

The erotic sounds of his fingers fucking my cunt reverberated loudly throguhout the predominantly empty bedroom.

“Then cum for me, ma chérie.”

His endearing words proved to be the last necessary step in reaching my release. The tension that had built within my stomach exploded as I came gloriously all over his face. My back felt as though it had been rammed into a solid brick wall.

My chest heaved, and I found it arduous to supply my lungs with sufficient oxygen.

My eyelids began to flutter open as the movements of both his tongue and fingers slowed. When he removed his digits and mouth, I was overcome with a glorious sensation of complete satisfaction. Both my mind and body succumbed to bliss. I had never before experienced such an absence of disquiet.

Vincent climbed over me, his torso now bare.

I cracked a small grin, my palms flattening against the expanse of his soft chest. His lips shone with my arousal. I trailed my fingertips slowly downwards, halting when I reached his thick leather belt. I began to undo the buckle, however, Vincent caught wind of my intentions. With one hand, he engulfed both of my wrists, pinning them above my head. I gasped.

“Oh, no, not now.”

His gentle lips tenderly kissed the soft divot behind my ear. I took a deep breath, the scent of his pricey, heavy fragrance clouding my mind.

“I have waited far too long for this moment. It would be foolish of me to allow you to furnish pleasure when my desire has been consuming me for years.”

Vincent moved off of me and stood to remove the remainder of his clothes. With a pleasurable whoosh, he pulled his belt from the loops of his formal pants. Subsequently, he removed his shoes and allowed his trousers to gather about his ankles.

He met my stare, the mellow hue of the faint overhead lights collecting within his green irises.

“You look beautiful.”

Once again, the heat from my body began to travel downwards.

Vincent’s boxers were the final article of clothing to be removed. I gulped audibly, as his sizable cock was now standing fully erect.

Holy shit, I thought to myself.

He possessed one of the most winsome cock I had ever laid eyes on. I clenched my thighs together, my cunt eagerly clenching around nothing.

When he had finished undressing, he climbed back over me and our lips met once again. I melted into the kiss, exhaling sensually as I sunk into the plush mattress. Vincent’s hand grasped the hem of my dress, tugging it upwards until I was forced to raise my arms.

Thankfully, the supportive nature of the outfit allowed me to function in the absence of a bra. As a result, my entire body was now fully exposed for Vincent’s piercing gaze.

He discarded the dress and dropped his hips suggestively until his prominent erection pressed against my lower stomach.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, beckoning him to progress further. Vincent shuffled his hips, tip now dangerously close to my aching cunt. But, before he slipped inside of me, he raised a free hand and tenderly brushed a few unruly strands of hair from my damp forehead.

“If you wish to stop at any moment, merely apprise me and I shall cease.”

I gave him a nod, throwing my arms around his neck to provide an anchor. Vincent pressed his lips to my neck, applying a few gentle kisses before sliding his cock into my wet cunt.

My walls stretched, hastily conforming to his rather large girth. My back arched into his solid torso. I inhaled sharply as he buried the entirety of his length deep within me.

“Are you alright, ma chérie?”

His body stilled. I groaned in mild frustration.

“Y-yeah. I’m more than alright. P-please just fuck me already. I-I need you so bad.”

Vincent pulled back. His lips were plush. His hair was disheveled. His cheeks were a bright shade of pink.

His disarranged appearance was a stark contrast to the previously sophisticated man I had met at the start of this afternoon. However, I do consider the duality of man to be a topic of the utmost enticement. There is something captivating about the notion of commencing a relationship with someone who has a secret side that solely you have the pleasure of becoming acquainted with.

Without further words, Vincent began to roll his hips. The slight pain of his cock quickly dissipated to create room for immense pleasure.

My eyes rolled to the back of my head.

“Does that feel good? Hm?”

He spoke with a slight vocal fry. The raspiness of his tone elicited a visceral reaction. I dragged my nails along his smooth back, undoubtedly breaking skin.

He grumbled deep within his chest.

When I didn’t answer, Vincent pulled his face back, blown pupils meeting mine. I gazed at him through half lidded eyes. I found it difficult to ignite passionate eye contact when I was presented with the distraction of his cock expertly grazing against my g spot with every fervent jerk of his hips.

He wrapped a large hand around my neck. My pulse rose to the top of my skin as black spots began to cloud my vision.

“Come on, ma belle, be my good girl. Tell me how good I make you feel.”

I exhaled a shuddering breath.

“F-fuck… you feel so good inside me Vincent.”

I gulped.

“Y-your cock feels so good.”

Vincent’s skin began to sheen with a thin layer of perspiration. The unruly strands of brown hair deepened in color as they stuck to his forehead. I moaned pornographically as the grip on my neck constricted once more. My jaw dropped. The brief lack of oxygen only added to the flurry of incoherent thoughts bouncing around my skull.

“Oh, my, you’re such a good girl for me.”

He gulped, a soft sigh escaping his swollen lips.

“You’re taking me so well.”

The erotic words combined with his smooth accent contributed to the tightening of my lower abdomen.

I was close, dangerously close.

I could feel my body reaching the edge, and I would soon fall into a state of euphoria.

Vincent’s adjusted his hips ever so slightly, his tip now reaching deeper than before.

I instinctively turned my head away. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes as I buried my face into the bed. My brow furrowed. My eyes squeezed shut as I anticipated my release.

Vincent utilized his thumb to reposition my face.

“No, don’t look away. Be my good girl and look me in the eyes.”

I forced my eyelids open, meeting his piercing stare as ever so slightly increased the frequency of his thrusts. Every instinct beckoned me to throw my head back, but I fought the desire. And, I instead kept my eyes fixated on Vincent’s blown pupils that had almost entirely consumed his irises.

“I want to watch you. I want to see your face as you cum all over my cock.”

I gave him a slight nod, indicating that I could hear while trapped in my lustful stupor.

His hand traveled downwards, gently caressing my curves before reaching my swollen clit. Vincent applied gentle pressure, and, with that, I let go.

I kept my eyes fixated on him, allowing my face to contort as it pleased.

Vincent groaned loudly, his cum coating my walls.

He continued to fuck me throguh my orgasm. His movements gradually slowed as the fog of euphoria began to dissipate. My chest rose and collapsed with fervor.

When I deemed it safe to break eye contact, I allowed my eyelids to flutter shut. Suddenly, I became aware of the gravitational pull the bed exerted on my body.

Jesus, I was exhausted.

Vincent removed his cock from my core. However, he remained atop me, tenderly pushing my unkempt hair back to create mild uniformity.

“You may stay here, if you’d like, for however long you wish.”

His voice was as it had been prior to our physical encounter.

I giggled, my mouth breaking into a slight smile.

“Your house is magnificent.”

I met his gaze, his eyes now possessing a tender quality.

“I don’t know if I ever want to leave.”

I said with a scoff.

A smirk played on the corner of his lips.

“Then don’t, stay here for as long as your heart desires.”

[b3ans0up]

BABY GOT BACK!🖤

[snowflakeanimelover]

Relationship: John Wick x Female Reader

Fandom: John Wick

Warnings: John’s POV, attempted attack, slight force, self loathing, more fear, crying, non-con touching(not explicit), reader needs a hug, John is kind of delusional, John is depressed

Note: I made a really cool title banner for this story, but the gif was too big to put on here (T-T) so its just a regular boring pic. Oh well, it still looks cool. Anyway, thank you for the lovely support! Super happy people are liking this. Comments and reblogs are much appreciated :D

Also, I am aware I repeat things. I have a bad habit of doing that, and I am really trying not to. So, apologies if you see repeated stuff or info.

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Chapter 2 | …

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Never Again |3|

Seeing the dark grey Pit Bull did not seem to brighten John’s mood. His steps felt heavy as he walked down the spiral staircase and onto the main floor of his large, fancy home. The weight on his shoulders grew heavier as time passed. What the hell am I doing? he constantly asked himself. Yet, he didn’t seem to take any action to relieve himself of that burden.

John’s gaze landed on his slightly trembling hands, and he stared at them as if there were blood on them. Technically, there were years and years of blood on his hands from his grueling job, which he had now retired from. But now, all he could see was innocent blood. Although he hadn’t killed the woman and never would, his guilt lingered as if her blood were staining his hands. He had taken her without her consent, robbing her of her life. Her love for books, her love for talking to people—now he had her isolated, all for himself.

John reminded himself that he needed this; it was the only way for him to feel satisfied and to fill the void in his heart that Helen had left behind. Y/N was the only person who brought him peace of mind and warmth.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, he tore his gaze away from his hands and looked down at his new puppy. As soon as their eyes met, the puppy seemed happy—happy for the attention, happy to see his owner. If only Y/N responded that way.

She will soon enough.

“Hey, boy.” John slowly kneels down, grimacing slightly at his sore body and aching wounds, and rests his hand on the pit bull's head to pet him. “You’re a good boy, huh?” he says, as if the dog could respond.

After giving his dog a few minutes of attention, he pushes himself back up to his feet and straightens his black vest. It has been a few hours since he arrived home, and he figures it’s best to change into something more comfortable.

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By the time John had changed into his pajamas—dark grey sweatpants and a simple white T-shirt—and poured himself another cup of coffee, he could see the sun just beginning to peek over the horizon through his window.

The past few days have been hectic. He avenged the death of Daisy, the puppy his late wife gave him to help him grieve, and dealt with the theft of his car. In response, he had kidnapped a Pit Bull from the pound and a woman from her home. Now, he is finally back home. This time, he intended to stay retired and live a new life with his new dog and… new wife.

Well, maybe he shouldn’t call her his wife, yet.

John looks down at the Pit Bull he hasn’t thought to name yet, watching its tail wag back and forth in excitement. “Looks like I’ll need to train her too, huh, boy?” John chuckles, but the laughter lacks genuine feeling. It’s a dark joke, he realizes, considering Y/N as if she were his pet, too. However, that’s not the case. She may be a replacement for Helen, but she will soon become her own person whom he’ll love unconditionally.

Taking a sip of his coffee, John decided it was time to go back upstairs and check on her. He hadn't heard any loud noises—no crying, screams for help, thrown furniture, or banging on the door. It was too quiet.

Setting his mug down, John left the kitchen and walked up the spiral stairs with his puppy in tow. When he reached the bedroom door, which was now Y/N’s, he turned to his dog and pointed a stern finger. “Sit,” he commanded. To his surprise, the puppy obeyed. “Stay.” John was impressed but knew he would need to train the puppy further as time went on.

John unlocked the door, hearing it creak softly as it slowly swung open. The room was dark, but the large windows leading to the balcony let in enough morning light to reveal some details. As he took a few steps inside, he noticed that the bed was empty.

Before he knows it, something catches his attention from the left. Acting purely on instinct, years of training as an assassin and military service kick in. He swiftly grabs the arms descending towards him, his large, calloused fingers wrapping tightly around Y/N’s wrists. He forcefully moves them to the side, away from his head.

A loud crash sounds behind him, but he ignores it, shoving Y/N against the nearest wall with remarkable speed. Because she lacks training, he easily slams her back into the wall, caging her body with his own. He presses his arm against her chest to keep her there.

The pained gasp that escaped her lips caused his heart to ache as he realized what had just occurred. His dark eyes landed on her fear-filled ones. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were red from crying. She tried to fight against his strength but quickly gave up, knowing she wouldn’t win.

John hesitates as he glances to his side and sees a lamp on the floor. It suddenly becomes clear to him what happened. Y/N was hidden behind the wall near the door, and when he got within range, she attempted to attack him with the lamp. In a way, she’s clever. But she’s not clever enough for an assassin.

"I'm sorry," John hears her croak, and he looks at her face again. She is crying, mostly out of fear. Her apology seems to be instinctive; John can tell she’s worried that she may have angered him and that he might hurt her.

The thought alone made him feel nauseous. Now that he was calmer and assessing the situation, he slowly stepped back, easing the pressure he had been applying to her chest. He remained cautious, aware that she might attempt to attack again the moment he let his guard down. However, she didn’t make a move.

He watches as she slides against the wall, backing away to the far corner of the room, left of the bed, where she stands trembling. “Please don’t hurt me,” she sobs, her shoulders practically up to her ears as she huddles in the corner.

John furrows his brows at her words, then relaxes his posture, letting his arms hang by his sides. “I’m…” he starts, trying to find a way to reassure her. However, he knows it would be impossible. He kidnapped her, and she is terrified. She doesn’t understand what is happening or why she is there. She has no knowledge of his motives. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he finally says, taking another step back.

As John takes a step back, the heel of his foot brushes against something. Turning to look, he sees the lamp that she attempted to hit him with. It’s the lamp from one of the bedside tables. He steps over it to face Y/N while inspecting the damage. The bulb is broken, and one side of the lampshade is bent inward. Fortunately, it isn't completely ruined, so he can easily fix it.

The room was silent, except for the soft cries and hiccups of the girl hiding in the corner. Eventually, she slid down to the floor, sitting with her knees hugged to her chest. Was she scared that he would hurt her because she had tried to hit him? And because she had broken his lamp?

“It’s fine,” John mutters, picking up the broken lamp and forcing an awkward smile. “I can fix it. It’ll be an easy fix.” She doesn’t respond, just as he expected. His smile fades as he looks down at the lamp in his hands and the shards of glass scattered on the floor. “I’ll... be right back to clean this up. Please don’t step over here; there’s broken glass.” He felt so awkward, as if he had never spoken to a girl before. It was like talking to a scared child.

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It didn’t take him long to go grab a broom and a garbage bag. Y/N hadn’t moved once when he came back, and it…made his heart ache once more. Seeing her look so afraid because of him was starting to get a bit frustrating, but he knew he had to be patient. He couldn’t expect her to accept her new life. Hell, he was having a hard time accepting what he did.

Ever since he brought her here, his mind would constantly argue back and forth. About how kidnapping an innocent woman was wrong and he should let her go, while the other part of him wants her to stay because he deserves her. He deserved peace once more. Either way, he wanted it all to just shut off.

It felt like he was going insane just because of this one illegal action, when he has done many illegal things before.

It didn’t make sense. It was downright annoying the hell out of him.

John lets out a sigh, hearing the glass clink together as it's brushed onto the dustpan, and then dumped into the trash bag he brought. He made sure to sit where he could see her, watch her every move. After the stunt she pulled, he can’t say he trusts her right now.

Just as he finished cleaning up the broken glass, he noticed she had gotten quiet once more. Glancing up, John can see she had stopped crying, however still huddled up in the corner to keep the distance between them.

He wanted to scold her, be mad at her for trying to hurt him. But he never does, because he knows she’ll learn eventually what she can and can’t do. She’ll learn to love and respect him.

Again, he needs to be patient.

John stands up from the floor, the broom in one hand and the garbage bag in the other. “Are you, uh….” He clears his throat, not sure whether looking at her would freak her out or not. “Are you hungry? I can…bring some lunch or…” he gestures with his hands as he talks, despite them being full. His words ended openly, as if to invite her to answer or at least speak to him. When she continues to give him the silent treatment, he shrugs, giving up on trying for the day. It's the first day, she’ll come around eventually.

“I’ll just bring something up later,” he murmurs, desperate to get out of this awkward situation. Hesitantly, he stands there for a little longer, as if to wait in case she wants to say something. Then, he leaves the bedroom, locking the door right behind him.

Maybe food will make her feel more welcomed.