#john wick x fem reader

[feinv]

inspired by @iovesia (she is one of those insanely talented writers you accidentally find on this goofy app)

john wick who despite being the most feared assassin in the entire underworld, is the sweetest gentleman to you.

john wick who is so rough with his actions, but gentle with his words. he is gripping your waist so firmly you can already feel red fingerprints tainted on your soft skin. he is biting down on your shoulder to muffle the groans that have been building up in his throat, leaving crescent shaped teeth marks. he is leaving red and purple bruises all over your neck, all over your body, pain and pleasure mixing together and overfilling your senses.

john wick who first eats you out like a starved man, using tongue and fingers in a way that makes you lightheaded, forgetting your own language and how to form words. he would be knuckles deep into you before having his tongue circling and lapping on your juices, his beard all soaked and as wet as you are.

john wick who then is thrusting so hard and deep into you that you swear you are about to black out. he hits that sweet spot over and over again, sending you into oblivion, not giving you a second to catch a breathe: hard, fast, and unforgiving. he manhandles you around by adjusting your body to his own liking, finding new positions to make you feel things you didn’t even know you were capable of feeling.

john wick who doesn’t plan on stopping even when you come more than two times, overstimulating and edging you again…again…and again, pressing his big hands on your hips and stomach to prevent your attempts of breaking from his grip. his mouth will then be latching on your nipples, biting and sucking down on them not so gently, pinching them harshly and making your whole body flinch.

john wick who has been mouthing nothing but delicate praises in your ear that entire time. “you are doing so good, sweetheart. such a good girl for me. taking me so well. fuckin’ beautiful.”

he can’t control himself. not when you involuntarily clench and pulse around him. not when you release those breathless moans and sweet whimpers. he wouldn’t be able to contain himself anymore and would absolutely snap his hips into yours with an animalistic rhythm, savoring the filthy sounds you make and pressing down his palm over the area where your belly bulges from him.

“i love you so much. so goddamn much, my sweet angel…” following up with him swearing that you are a literal goddess and he is most definitely in heaven, all while slamming harder and deeper.

john wick who always fucks you good and leaves you sore, while simulataneously showering you in sweet nothings and treating you like you are the only girl in the world. (you are for him!!)

[multific]

Obsession

Vincent De Gramont x Reader

Summary: He had one obsession, you.

Vincent liked the finer things in life.

Food, drinks, clothes, cars our houses, it didn't matter.

To him, quality was the most important.

He became so rich that now he was at a point where he didn't even have the time to spend it. 

He was obsessed with fine things. He loved his suits, had a nice collection of only the best.

He was obsessed with cars, old-timers and newer models both parked in his garage. 

Vincent was obsessed with his job, it gave him authority, something he always craved.

But lately, his obsession was you.

You being just a normal woman he saw one day, he was confused as to just why he found you to be so enticing.

There was something about you, something he couldn't quite figure out.

He found it weird how a man of his status found himself completely taken by a simple woman.

He wanted to know everything. He needed to know everything.

And he needed to have you. 

You were quick to learn that Vincent wasn't the sweet Prince type. Oh, far from it actually.

He was dangerous.

The moment you met him you knew this. You felt the hair on the back of your neck stand up as soon as you saw him. 

He was a walking red flag. 

But just why did you not run? Why did you find yourself intrigued by him? Why did you say yes every time he whispered sweet things into your ear? 

And just why did he have to have that sexy accent?!

The man was a walking red flag, yes, but aparently you were colourblind because you ignored it all. 

He was rich, elegant, sexy and dangerous. Truly an awful mix but what could you do?

Your first date was on top of the Eiffel Tower, he rented the entire thing out, just for the two of you.

You tried to figure out if he was romantic or if he just knew how to woo a woman. 

Maybe both.

Because when later that night, he dropped you off at yours, he kissed all the way from your shoulder to your neck, making you see stars as he whispered 'You are mine' in the most possessive and sexy way a man could.

Your insides were screaming at you, both from fear and arousal.

Why did he have to be so handsome on top of it all?

It would have been so much easier if he just rude but no, of course not, he had to be a gentleman.

It wasn't until a couple of months of dating that you saw his scary side.

One late afternoon, you went to his office while he was on the phone, he failed to notice you as he yelled into the phone the scariest things one could hear.

Promises of torture and a slow death, his gaze and body language said it all, he wasn't lying.

When he was done, due to anger he smashed the phone to the ground and this is when he noticed you as you jumped a little. 

Your eyes locked with his as he cursed at himself in French.

You long forgot why you were in there in the first place.

"I have never seen you so angry, Vincent."

"Mon Amour, I'm so so sorry that you had to see me like that. I prom-"

"Do it again." you said cutting him off as he suddenly froze. 

He didn't expect for you to say that, you didn't expect to say that to be fair. He thought you would run and hide or yell at him to never ever look for you.

But you didn’t.

"Something about the anger, you are always so collected and calm for most of the time. Even when you saw the guy flirting with me at the bar, you have never even raised your voice."

"Did you find it... exciting?"

"Yes." your answer was simple and immediate. “Do it again, Vincent.”

“Mon Amour,” He smirked, he knew you would be perfect.

Vincent truly found his other half in you. His obsession turned into love but his possessive tendencies never faltered. 

Even if you were only a simple woman with a boring job, you had no idea of the power you held in your hands, you had the great Marquis wrapped all around your little finger.

And on the other hand, you had the most expensive diamond wrapped around your ring finger.

Taglist: @fleursirvart @greenarrowhead @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo​ @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster @capsiclesdoll @puknow @alwayshave-faith @alex12948 @lxdyred  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @praline357 @trshngyn @avengers-r-us @violet-19999 @top1bbgloak   @manduse   @jacalineiscomingforyou  @mandoloriancookie @noname2246

@l4venderia

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS  

[6lostgirl6]

yandere john wick with “I would never hurt you. You know that, right?” he just gives off such over protective/possessive energyyy 🤭

Your Protector

Pairing: Yandere!John Wick x Fem!Reader

TW: Yandere themes, toxic themes, mentioned stalking, kidnapping, possessive behavior, obsessive behavior, pet names, dubious kissing (at first), slightly suggestive. Reblogs are highly appreciated!!

It was infatuation and obsession that drove him to take such drastic measures. Ever since he saw you, he was absolutely convinced that you were meant for him. His second chance at happiness and love since the passing of his wife, Helen.

It was also fear, fear that if he didn't kidnap you, you would be somehow hurt or even killed. John has spent many nights without sleep, worried over your safety. He knew that if he didn't take action, something was bound to happen.

You never met him before, never spoke with him, and it was a shock when he finally kidnapped you. A complete stranger. The last thing you could remember was walking home from another late-night shift and being grabbed from behind. In a millisecond, your mouth was covered by a cloth and your vision went black.

When you finally came to, you realized you did not recognize your surroundings. You were resting in a lavish guest room and you were still trying to wrap your brain around what was happening. While you were gathering your bearings, a man appeared. He was standing over you by the side of the bed.

"Good morning, sweetheart." The man said with a smile, greeting you in an affectionate tone. "I hope you slept well."

At first glance, he was a very attractive man and of great wealth. His towering stature, long black hair and wearing a seemingly expensive black tailored suit.

“Who are you?” You asked in fright, staring at him with wide eyes.

“W-What’s going on?” You scooted back against the headboard, trying to maintain some distance between you and the man. “What do you want?” You continued to stare at him, fearful of what he might do. 

His gaze held a disturbing mixture of kindness and menace as he looked down at you. "Don't be afraid, I'm not going to hurt you." He paused for a moment, as if weighing his next words carefully. "I just want to make sure that we're together. Forever."

“Who are you?” You were confused, having not ever met this strange man before in your entire life. You thought that this man was clearly delusional, could be mistaking you for someone else. He wanted the two of you to be together, but you could not understand the reasoning behind it. You needed to figure out who he is and hopefully find means of escaping. 

"I'm John Wick," he says simply, leaning over you. He has this strange, almost otherworldly quality about him that's difficult to explain. A sense of danger, but not necessarily violence. He's calm and collected, but you also feel the threat of his presence. It's like looking into the eyes of a predator, one who's just been waiting for the right moment to strike. It's terrifying, yet compelling at the same time.

Noticing your fear, he slowly moved to sit on the edge of the bed, bringing himself a little more to your level of height. However, he still continued to tower over you. With slight hesitation, he reached out and placed his hand on your cheek, his thumb brushing gently against your cheekbone. It's a gesture of familiarity and affection, yet there's a sense of darkness and danger to it.

"Don't be afraid, sweetheart." He said with a small smile, his intense dark-brown eyes locking onto yours. It was almost hypnotic, the way he was looking at you. Almost as if he truly knew you and for quite some time too. It left you feeling conflicted, complicated emotions infiltrating your heart.

His touch that was so gentle against your cheek, prompted your cheeks to grow a little warm. His affection was breaking down your resolve and leaving you quite nervous. Not nervous as if you were fearing for your life for feeling anxious, but rather the form of butterflies forming in your stomach and your heart in your throat. 

The warmth creeping onto your face seems to embolden John, and he leans in closer to you, his hand still resting on your cheek as the other trails its way down your thigh. He stared at you, his dark eyes taking in every detail of your appearance.

"You're so beautiful.” He whispers, his warm breath fanning across your face. There's an intensity to him that's almost frightening. He appeared like a wild animal, one that could snap at any moment. It was undeniable that there was something primal about him, something you can't help but be attracted to.

You couldn’t reply, unable to form any coherent sentences from the intensity and electrifying touch of his hand on your thigh. Slowly, you were feeling less uncomfortable but rather shy from his affectionate touches. However, your walls were starting to return when you remembered that you didn't even know this man.

“John…why are you doing this? You don’t even know me.”

"Because you're mine." He replied, his gaze was intense and there was undeniable heat in his voice. It was more than enough to make you feel a little dizzy. Almost as if you were falling into some dark abyss. There's no question that this man is dangerous, but you can't help feeling drawn to him. He exudes a primal, dangerous energy that is almost addictive, and you find yourself craving more of his attention and touch.”And I do know you, I know everything about you, (Y/N).”

You glanced towards the door, noticing that it was left open. Your logical side was screaming for you to wake up and understand that you were involved with something, someone, extremely dangerous. In that second, you were broken out of your spell. 

You hesitate before launching yourself from the bed in an attempt to escape.

John's smile fades as you attempt to flee, his expression turning dark and deadly. Without even seeming to move, he blocks the door, his body looming over you like a shadow of death. 

"Don't." He says, his voice low and dangerous. “You'll only make this harder for yourself, sweetheart." His eyes are cold and calculating, but there's also a strange desire behind them. 

One that's both terrifying and alluring.

With wide eyes, you backed away, feeling small in comparison to his looming figure and his predatory stance. The size difference between you two was incredible. You continued to keep your distance, placing yourself between furniture. 

With slow and deliberate steps, he follows you around the room, seemingly getting closer with each passing moment. He had the patience of an animal on the verge of a hunt. You can feel his eyes on you, tracking your every move. When he speaks again, his voice is calm, but there's something dangerous hidden beneath the surface. He's like a calm sea hiding the storm underneath. 

"You can't get away from me, sweetheart." He begins to move closer again, this time grabbing your wrist and holding it tight, his grasp like iron. "You belong to me."

“Yeah, right!” You struggled, trying to rip your wrist away from his grasp, he could only stare at you in slight amusement and anger. “I don’t belong to you or anyone! Nothing you will ever do will make me think otherwise!”

He raises an eyebrow and smirks at you, before he replies. 

"Alright then." 

Without warning, he pulls you towards him, kissing you passionately. His body is firm and strong, holding you tightly in his arms. His kiss is passionate and intense, like he's pouring all of his feelings and desires into it. The kiss was passionate and borderline possessive, trying to make you submit and accept him as your lover and protector. His grip around your wrist and waist is tight, becoming a little painful. You’re completely at his mercy and helpless in his arms.

You gasp from the sudden kiss, feeling intense emotions swirling within you and making your heart skip a beat. After a small moment, you began to return the kiss, thoughts of escaping melting from your mind. He also seemed to relax more into the kiss, it turning softer and loving, feeling that you were slowly but surely returning his affections. He pulls away after a moment, staring at you with a hungry and passionate gaze. 

"Are you convinced?" He asks, his voice low and husky, his gaze very heated and full of immense desire. He's still holding you tightly in his arms, not letting you go anywhere. He simply couldn't get enough of you. It's adamant that this animal has a lot of pent-up desire and passion. Now, he was looking forward to releasing it all onto you.  

"Y-Yes..." You muttered, your brain currently in a state of mush. You simply looked up at him with wide eyes, your cheeks warm from the intensity of his affections.

Slowly, he released your wrist, bringing his hand up to caress your cheek, his thumb brushing just underneath your eye. His touch was gentle and even a little soothing. He looked into your eyes, his heated stare now full of softness towards you. “I would never hurt you. You know that, right?” His voice, similar to his touch, was also full of softness. 

“Y-Yes…” Your resolve was completely demolished, he has successfully twisted your feelings around and made your heart scream out for more of his attention. Thoughts of finding a way to escape barely crossed your mind, your logical side slipping further away from your grasp. 

You simply didn’t care. 

"Good." He whispers, his voice was husky once more, full of want and desire for you.

With another powerful pull, he brings you into another kiss, one that is even more passionate than the first one. Knowing that you finally submitted left him with an animalistic excitement. He's hungry for you, almost starving for your touch and affection, and you can barely keep up with his ravenous desires. His excitement continued to grow, his grip on you tightening as he held you in his arms.  

"You're mine now, my love."  He continues, his eyes glistening with desire. 

Spam Liking W/O Reblogging = Blocked

Taglist: Comment to be added!!

@prettywhenibleed

[moon-my-beloved]

Dream a Little Dream of Me masterlist

A month. She had to wait a fucking month to recover despite her persistence to the chief of being just fine. Getting sent home was not how she wanted things to go. On the other hand, maybe Joseph was right, she probably needed a break. A time to relax and escape from the unruly reality of the world. It’ll be fine, right?

TW: mentions of death, and a bit of stalking but it’s harmless (i think) - xoxo

— September 18, 1996. Location: Minneapolis, MN

It will be an excruciating wait until Laswell can get back on her feet. Reluctantly, under her chief's command, Joseph insisted that she take this time to recover after returning scratched up, worn out, and not having any recollection of how she ended up in the middle of the woods when the helicopter arrived. The chief was more than desperate to give Kate a break.

Amnesia, they had said. Probably caused by the head injury she had sustained when she fell. At least that’s what the doctors at the medical wing kept telling her when she was asked various questions of what she could recall about the event. She had been running away from the attackers, grabbing everything she could before she was bolting into the woods, and after that– there was nothing. A painful ring in her ear could be heard every time she tried to hark back to what might have unfolded that fateful night. She came up blank with every try. It was torment, a hole of anguish making itself comfortable in her chest. A long list of paperwork, meetings, and more paperwork awaited her back at the agency upon her arrival, not even getting a chance to argue that there was no need for her to be on extended leave, that she was fine.

“You're a lucky woman, Laswell. A damn right good analytics as well,” The chief had told her back at the airport, "I need you to be in your best shape if I want you back on the field.”

She didn’t feel lucky at all. She escaped but at what cost? Although the people she worked with weren’t necessarily close to her, lives were taken away— families broken apart. There’s no time for grief, the mission comes first. It always does. She said nothing in return if the slight slump in her shoulders wasn't obvious enough. With that, the chief excused himself, lips pressed to a tight line just as he disappeared through the automatic doors.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she turned, suitcase in hand as she walked to catch her flight back to Minneapolis. It wasn’t a long flight from Virginia, her mind drifting away into a haze of thoughts she had been pondering about these last two days. She had fallen asleep midway through the flight and before she knew it, the plane had already landed. Rubbing the sleep off her eyes, she got up, grabbing her duffel bag from the storage bins. Dread filled her once she stepped out of the terminal building.

“Home sweet home.“ She sarcastically said to herself. It's anything but sweet.

It’s not like she hated coming back home. It worked as a good getaway from where she usually stayed back in D.C. No stacks of papers, no meetings, no missions, no calls to family members to break the news that their husbands, wives, daughters, or sons won’t be coming back home. A setting opposite to what she’s used to. It made Kate feel weird at times— out of place. Those were thoughts to dwell on for later on restless nights. In the meantime, she has to catch a damn taxi to get back to her old flat.

As soon as she closed the door behind her, the woman let out a groan, throwing her duffel bag carelessly on the wooden floor while rubbing the back of her neck. She was beyond exhausted. The painkillers she took on the way here must have kicked in earlier than she anticipated. The pain in her leg would come and go despite the gunshot wound only leaving her with a small scar besides the continuous ringing in her ear. It was odd the more she thought about it. Wounds like these don’t just heal in a week, especially if you are stuck in the middle of fuck-nowhere.

Shaking her head, Kate took a good look around her small apartment. It looked the same as how she left it months ago. A bit of dust here and there but it was nothing a good clean couldn't fix. She had taken some paperwork home regarding the mission and had looked through them a thousand times to find anything that could magically refresh her memory. It was useless. Fixing herself a cup of coffee she settled on the couch, spreading the documents on her almost too small table with furrowed eyebrows.

‘Why? Why couldn’t she remember?’

“Shit,” The sun had gone down by the time she stopped trying to get answers to her never-ending questions. Closing the folder rather angrily, she took the cup of coffee to throw down the drain. It had turned cold and left forgotten the second she sat down. She was fighting sleep at this point, dragging her body towards the bathroom and exiting it thirty minutes later with her skin feeling raw. Draping the towel over her neck, she made a beeline towards her room where she immediately let out a groan of content once her body hit the soft sheets. It felt nice as the woman ran her fingers through the fabric. She wasn’t sure if the antibiotics were the ones to lure her to sleep or the familiar scent coming off her blankets. She hasn’t washed them since the last time being here.

That night, Laswell dreamt of being in the woods again.

“How long are you going to be in town for?” Her mom said from the other side of the line.

She had been rudely woken up from the best sleep of her life to the sound of her phone vibrating on the nightstand beside her. Her first thought was to ignore it but the damn thing kept beeping. Who the fuck would be calling her so early in the morning? Letting out a huff, Laswell sat up from the confines of her bed, snatching the flip phone off the counter to see who it was. Eyes bleary and unfocused as she scanned the contact name on the screen. ‘Mom’ it read. Squinting her eyes in confusion, she pressed the left button and brought the phone to her ear.

She regretted making that decision now that she’s been on the phone with her mom for more than an hour hearing her nagging and complaining about how she should visit them more often, that they missed her. She almost lost count of how many times she had to remind her mother that it was a difficult thing to do when you work for the government. She stuck to just apologizing if she didn’t want to hear her mother go on a whole debate about how she had ruined her life. She has no time for that, almost letting out a scoff at her empty words. They did not miss her.

“ –ello? Are you there?” The older woman's voice had pulled her back to reality, blinking down at the spoon swirling around the dark liquid as she brought the cup to her lips, the taste of caffeine overtaking her taste buds. “Yes, Mom, I heard you. Joseph gave me a month-long leave.” She announced. Shaking her head at the possibility that she might be stuck with her parent’s continuous pestering. ‘She is really the greatest daughter in the world.’

“Oh well, that’s just wonderful! Maybe you can come by some other day for dinner, it’ll be great.” Her mom said. The excitement in her tone was a bit too forced for Laswell to believe her. She knew that if she did come by for dinner, it would just end in an argument and pile up with the other times their meetings have ended in complete chaos. “Maybe.” She answered, a tense silence making itself known between them upon her monotone response to her mother’s suggestion to ‘bond’. It was awkward after that, her mom making up a half-assed excuse that she had to get ready to meet some of her friends before the call ended.

She won’t be attending dinner with her parents or calling each other anytime soon. Not that she ever did anyway.

Soon, the cold air from the mornings disappeared and the warmth of the afternoons rolled in. It was a cycle. A restless cycle that kept itching the back of Laswell’s brain as the days passed. She had looked over the papers every day, in hopes of catching something she had missed, a singular clue that would create a spark of remembrance in the crevices of her hippocampus. She came up with nothing.

The only abnormal thing she has gotten out of her little ‘scavenger hunt’ was a damn migraine and the same dream every night. She’s in the woods, the same one from that day, following a ceaseless path that seems to take her nowhere but her feet seem to have a mind of their own as if they have been here before, as if they knew all along where this nameless destination is. She wakes up in a cold sweat before she finds out.

She had initially shrugged it off as a result of her fall but the more she went outside to simply enjoy the breeze of the wind, the cheers and cries of children running around the local playground, a woman walking her dog, or even to just grab a bite from the coffee shop across the street, a feeling had poisoned her brain that someone has been following her, watching her. With every glance she took over her shoulder, there was no one, even though she had no doubt and was positive that she saw a questionable shadow from the corner of her eye. Had they come back to get her? Close the deal and seal it shut so she can just be another piece of paper among others?

She wasn’t so sure anymore. She felt like she was going insane the more time passed.

It was a rainy day when the ringing in her ear became too unbearable, palms over her ears in an attempt to make the pain go away and curled up against the cushions of her couch beside the window.

Tap, tap, tap.

She was fine a few hours ago. Woke up at the usual time, made herself breakfast (a cup of coffee), and planted herself on the couch to go over documents, emails, and continued to ignore her mother’s calls. It wasn’t on purpose. She just had her hands full, that’s all. She must have overestimated her capabilities of spending long periods of time in the same sitting-hunched position. Her age was getting to her.

She had taken her medicine already but by the looks of it, it didn’t seem to be working out for her. Letting out a low groan through her gritted teeth, she moved her head to the side to get a better view of the outside. It wasn’t necessarily pouring down, the repetitive noise of droplets hitting wood and trickling down glass soothed her discomfort for just a few seconds as she watched the cars pass by.

Tap, tap, tap.

It was getting dark, the moon creeping its way above the horizon, a good thing knowing that the brightness of the sun would just make the state she was already in, much worse. She doesn’t know how long she had stayed there. Maybe half an hour before she dozed off and had been woken up by that crawling feeling that someone was around. A presence. Sitting up a bit straighter, she peered through the window, rain still falling from the sky created a small mist in the air, but she saw it. She saw you.

An unknown gravitational force had made Laswell bolt up from her spot, not even caring to put on her shoes before she unlocked the door and sprinted outside. She didn’t know what had made her run through the rain so carelessly, the wet dirt and grass digging into her bare feet, just like that day. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead from exhaustion, just like that day. A sense of desperation and relief once she saw the only thing that had saved her from meeting her ultimate death. The trees, the manor, the sweet smell of your sheets, the tea, you. It was you, standing in front of her below the moonlight and the rain. It had been a constant battle these last few days trying to figure out what was true or not but at that moment, she knew. It had been you all along.

You said nothing, eyes peering at her with that same intensity as that night. If Laswell noticed your trembling hands, she didn’t mention it.

The ringing had finally stopped, a clump in her throat making her utter the only three words she could think of.

“I know you.”

A/N: the prologue has come to an end, woohoo!! >< you guys will be seeing a lot of the boys later on when i start working on incoming chapters! for now, please enjoy and again, any feedback is welcomed! 🍂

[howlsofter]

“You want this. You were just begging for it.”

Boyfriend!JohnWick gets tired of his bratty gf

quick one shot, smut, soft dom John wick

2.7k words

I don’t get to see him too often. Likely way more than the average person, but not as much as I’d like. Before, we both had our respective contracts, but I’ve been staying lowkey recently. I have more than enough money saved up, and as long as I’m not summoned by the boss I try to stay out of side work. For now.

It’s dangerous having John around, I know, but I can’t help it. I just want to see him so bad, and he wants to too or he wouldn’t keep coming back.

He arrived the night before, unexpectedly. I knew it was him from the peep hole. He was looked exhausted, waiting stiff in my living room as I air fried him frozen taquitos. It takes him awhile to decompress, to crack through John the assassin. I nudge at his foot under the table as he eats, peering out the window of my tiny kitchen. He leans back when he’s finished, looking to me for the first time since he’s sat. His eyes sink under the table, registering my comfortable look. He’s seen me like this before, old black sweatpants, a tshirt, some fuzzy socks. I need to buy him a comfy outfit.

“Yummy?” I ask, he moves under the table, trapping my feet between his dark leather shoes.

“Delicious,” he gives me the satisfaction of a response. I tap my short nails against the table top before reaching out for my water.

“Are you hurt?” He kinda shrugs, finally pushing off his heavy jacket. Seemingly unscathed, uncommon but good news. He straightened out his shoulders and relaxed back against the kitchen chair.

Getting undressed for the night, I slide off my sweatpants, watching John undo his shirt.

“Is it hard dealing with the fact that I’m stronger than you now?” I tease him, breaking the silence. I was used to it by now, but I’m not scared of breaking it with John, he he doesn’t want to engage he simply won’t.

“Maybe it would be, if you were,” he responds, turning his head to the side as he speaks but not looking at me.

“Don’t lie to yourself, John,” I say as earnest as possible. John doesn’t reply, sliding off his shirt and kicking off his shoes.

He crawls up on the bed, still wearing his slacks. He reaches out to grab me and I dodge him, sliding over and squealing. He moves quicker, getting a hold of my thigh and easily wrapping his large hand around it. He drags me over so swiftly, I almost don’t feel it.

I start to dodge him again as he goes for my arms, I go for his as well. I catch his left wrist but he twists out of my grip and catches my right hand. It knocks me off guard and he’s already disarmed my left, pinning my arms above me on the bed with one hand, his other holding down my hips.

I shift around and try to release my hands, but I can only get him to give a few inches before he’s pushing them back further into the memory foam.

“Oh, you’re so much stronger than me?” He teases now, pushing his body weight into me. I sink back farther, continuing to struggle. The more I do, the weaker I feel. He’s been watching me fight him the whole time, a small smirk shadowing his lips. “Say it. Say I’m stronger.”

I shake my head no, closing my eyes so his can’t stare into my soul. He tsks, exposed skin warm up against my torso, his jeans rough against my thighs. He uses his thigh to push my legs apart but I fight him.

With the hand he had against my hips he reaches down, his body weight holding me in place enough. Using his leg and his hand he continued to try to force them open, but my thigh strength is surprisingly stronger than my arm. With no luck, he sinks into my neck, pressing a kiss there before he’s biting me.

I whine out in surprise, pleasure and pain, going weak under him for just long enough for John to invade.

He slid between my unclothed legs, pressing his crotch right up against me. “Not going to say it?” He asks again, I shake my head again, eyes still closed. John catches my jaw with his hand, making me look at him. I blink back in shock.

“I know you were teasing anyways,” his hold on my chin loosens, stroking the soft skin connected to my neck with his fingers, “instead, tell me how bad you want me right now.”

I smile a little, because I want to tell him. But something inside me begs for me to disobey. “I don’t,” I argue, responding to quick to think it through. John actually chuckled a little, but I could tell I was starting to actually piss him off.

He grinds against me, running his hand up under my shirt and over my ribs.

“You’re such a fucking liar,” he hisses, the zipper of his jeans pressed against me, the friction rubbing just right. He massages my skin under his hand, continuing the motions as I mewled and arched to feel him.

He pulls away suddenly, releasing my hands and sitting up, unpinning me from the bed. “Fine, if you dont want it…”

I reach up to grab him quickly, one hand on his upper arm and the other on his belt loop, pulling him back into position.

“Who said I didn’t?” I ask, he reaches down to jeans.

“You.” He scoffs, “tell me you do then,” he undoes the zipper and slips them past his thighs without breaking eye contact, kicking them off. He still refused to touch me, hovering, waiting.

I whine first, thrashing in a mini tantrum before I laid flat, “fuck, John…”

It’s so hard to just admit it, even when it’s painfully obvious, “please, please fuck me. I want it so bad,” I say it quietly, pulling him in closer with my thighs and lifting my hips to press my panties back against his boxers. His cock is so hard, the tip peeking up passed the waistband and pressed against his stomach. It was thicker than most, enough to fill me up completely, it was the length that drove me mad. It left me soar for days after, I could always feel right up in me where John’s cock had pushed the limits.

I hooked onto his hips, rubbing up the length of his cock through the materials, John swallows, still just looking over me in thought.

“Really, baby?” He finally responds, breaking into a soft smile as he coos for me to submit. He catches my hips, his hands taking up most of the space there. I wiggle in his hold just a little, enough to annoy him so he’ll me still.

I clench my jaw, nodding slightly. It’s not enough for John, “beg me more, if you really want it,” he commands in a low voice. I bite my lip and suddenly John is on my neck again. He’s sucking this time, biting but not rough. It feels soooo fucking good I’m whining in seconds, trying to grind against him again but his hands hold me firm. My neck is incredibly sensitive, my pussy throbbing and stomach aching in desire the longer John kissed up. I pushed him away with my arms but his chest doesn’t budge.

“I really want it,” I breathe out, “I really really really want it, please,” John stops biting and lapping and presses a kiss against the spot, sitting up to catch my lips. He releases his grip on me to go for my underwear, pulling them down without hurry. I pull my legs up to help him take them off, his boxers next. I wrap back around him and reach out to touch him, stroking him a few times before he breaks the kiss to swag my hand away. He takes it up to his mouth, pressing my palm there against his lips in a small kiss as he takes his cock.

“Are you going to be good?” He asks me, letting go of my hand and reaching down, sliding his fingers through the folds of my pussy. He slowly rubs the top, small circles over the area of my clit, I hum and shift closer to his touch. He’s never this talkative in real life, he’s told me before he’s trying to savor the moments. He doesn’t get to see me like this in real life, whiny, submissive. I only get like this for him, and he annoys the brat right out of me.

I hate it though, it makes me blush with every command. It’s embarrassing, giving him so much power over me, but when I do he feels so good.

I’m already wet, he lets go of his cock to reach into me. His finger slides in easy as I answer a soft ‘yes’ and moan. He curls up inside me, pressing the finger on my clit with a little more pressure as he reaches up against my gspot repeatedly. It feels so good already, I press down against them, holding my breath.

“Fuck me, please,” I beg him under my breathe, staggering out the words. John doesn’t need to be asked twice. He pulled his fingers from inside of me and wiped them off on his cock, the tip leaking. He strokes himself a few times, looking down over me. I lay almost flat on the bed, using most of my strength to hold my hips up in the air, thigh on either side of John who sat up on his knees. I watch intently as he reaches out for my thigh, helping support me as his other goes to press the tip of his cock in between my folds. He carefully drags his cock against me, not entering me and letting it get slick. It feels good as a start, he moves up to holding my hips, gasping quietly each time he slid against me. When he felt I was ready he took his cock again, slowly pressing the head against my entrance, his other hand steadying and gripping me tighter to make up for the lack of support as he pushed the head into me. I let out a soft cry, it hurts for the moment, he pushed in just enough to where he can slide out and in without pulling completely out. I’m trying my best to hold my hips up, the farther he presses into me, the easier it is for him to continue and the better it feels. He eases in with a few more slow strokes, bending over and pressing open mouth kisses against my collarbones and neck.

He’s almost completely in when I reach my limit, my knees closing up to push him back. I whine and he gives me a moment to recouperait, a hand trying to keep my legs from moving. He continues his slow pace, still inching deeper and deeper into me, I continue to fight with him.

“You want this, you were just begging for it,” he reminds me, pulling out and grabbing my legs, he pins them together by my knee and pushes me back against the bed, my knees together at my side, he uses one hand to hold them down. His other slides over my ass, he guides himself back into me and I stretch out over the bed. As he gets deeper I reach up for him again but he’s already ready to catch my hand, bending over as he hits inside of me.

I suck the air inbetween my teeth quickly, bracing as he pushes farther up against me. He’s stayed so stoic but fully in he groans, his jaw slightly ajar as he continues to fuck me. It hurts so good, each time he ruts up inside of me I ache.

I can’t stop my moans, fighting his hold til he’s gripping me so hard his knuckles are white. He’s gained his composure mostly, I cry into the sheets and he lets go of my hands, brushing my hair back from my neck.

“You’re being so good for me,” he praises, slamming to me again, he’s breathing heavy, his voice almost shaky.

I can’t even respond, nodding as I gasp and swallow, not even making an effort to sit up. “Fucking brat, look at you now,” he slows down, not hitting me quite as deep. Bending over to lick my nipple, sucking on it for a moment before he’s kissing me again. He slowly fucks half into me, holding my hips up for me this time. It feels nice after being used, I look up at him lazily, still on my side.

He separates my legs without any resistance from me, sliding his thump up against my clit. He rubs in careful circles and I close my eyes, focusing on the pleasure.

John is enamored, he can’t rip his eyes from my face, speeding up his motions. The more desperate I get the more cocky he seems, awwing at me as I try to rock with him. “Feel good?” I nod. “Tell me,” he almost growled.

“No,” I joke through my breathing, John snaps into me and I cringe completely. It knocks the breath out of me, “yes~ fuck, it feels so good,” it falls out of me easy as he continues to go slow.

My moans get higher pitch and John speeds up slightly, he nods as I whimper for him, pulling him closer. He kisses me again, sweet and hot. It was sloppy but his lips felt so nice against mine, both of us breathing heavy. He nudges my nose, keeping our faces close as I get closer. My legs and body get shaky, my hold on John’s upper arm tightens and my arm I’d tossed loosely over his neck is now forcing him to stay in my proximity.

My mouth is open, breathing in short gasps and letting out stuttered exhales. I try to keep myself quiet, I have apartment neighbors, but I can’t help my calls for John. He loves them too, each time I repeat his name in a beg, getting closer and closer, John replied back to me with a soft sound like reassurance. I squeeze around his cock and feel him fill everything, John is controlling his own breathing manually.

When I cum I go silent, going stiff as John slows inside of me. His thumb continues in speed, hips carefully pressing as full as he can up in me as I squeezed and spasmed around him. His thumb only lets up when I start to twitch away from him, completely overstimulated. John whispers praises against my neck, kisses me and slowly starts to fuck me again. I mewl in exhaustion, asking him to be careful is just begging for him to be rough, instead I’m watching him. Eyes half lidded, he feels really really good still, but each stroke makes my muscles tight. John’s being sweet to me now, careful solid strokes as he works to pleasure himself. He touches me everywhere and I reach out to touch him back, dragging my hand over his scarred torso.

He’s getting closer when he picks up, sloppier sharper strokes. John kisses me messy before his hand is around my neck. He never grips my neck tight, I’ve told him he can but he refuses, but just the placement makes me feel weak. He holds me down again, “such a good fucking girl,” he mumbles before he’s using me again. I’m too weak to fight the stimulation, throwing my respect for the neighbors out the window as I cried out. John’s hand went from my neck to my mouth, cupping my cheek and forcing his thumb into it. He looks down at me in pleasure, I bite down on it but he doesn’t flinch.

He drops his head, looking down at our bodies meeting before he’s steadied. A few long slow strokes and a sudden inhale and he’s cumming deep inside of me. I can feel it, each twice of his cock more warm cum coated my bruised insides.

John exhales and kisses me a final time before pulling out of me. "I'm going to actually fight you next time."

[lonewolfwriting89]

GAMES WE PLAY

Vincent De Gramont “Marquis” x Reader

Warnings: NSFW. Smut.

A/N: Just a short little smutty drabble, saw John Wick 4 not long ago and yeah, I was suitably distracted. Anyways, another venture into another fandom! I hope you enjoy 😘 xoxo

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Rejoining the conversation you stayed close to him, his arm around you as though you’d been that way all your lives. You waited until he was engrossed in conversation with a member of the High Table and then caught his eyes. Running your tongue over your lips, you smiled and his words faltered ever so slightly. Knowing you were having the effect you wanted you purposely ate slowly, eyes locked to Vincent’s. Soon his face was slightly flushed and he was clearing his throat. When you were sure you had his attention you drew the edge of your champagne glass down your throat letting it trail over your cleavage lightly before setting it down. His eyes followed the path of the glass with a predatory gaze and you excused yourself to the others.

Turning to whisper to him softly before standing you said huskily against his ear, “I want you inside me..now”.

Vincent sat upright in his chair and you laid a hand on his suit covered shoulder smiling softly as you stood and moved toward the corridor. You thought he would wait, give it a moment so it was less conspicuous and perhaps meet you there but before you could get through the door you felt his hand on the small of your back guiding you from the dining room firmly. No sooner had the door closed he turned, his body pinning you against them.

You smiled slowly in triumph and he arched a perfectly shaped brow. Gripping your wrist he turned and looked around almost desperately. You tried to suppress the laugh but it escaped and he growled tugging you down the hallway toward the first door he saw. You found yourself in a large butlers pantry, forced against the cool wall. His thigh pressed between yours lifted you onto your toes as his hands gripped your wrists pinning them to the wall. You could barely breath and the uncontrolled lust in his eyes was reflected in yours.

“You know I don’t like your little games chéri”.

You smirked, “Your actions say otherwise”.

Vincent took your mouth roughly. Desire like a demand as his tongue parted your lips fiercely. You met his need with your own, heated and urgent as your tongues explored and coaxed the flames higher between you both. Your hands went to his hair, curling into the blonde silken strands. Fingers gripping lightly as you felt him lift you off the floor swiftly. His hands moved up over your ass, drawing your skirt up around your waist to free your legs. He didn't take the time to remove the lacy thong, forcing it aside as you felt his long fingers bury themselves deep inside you for the second time that night.

Gasping you moaned, head falling back as his mouth moved lower over your throat, biting as he went, seizing your nipple through the silk. One arm wrapped around the small of your back like steel, the other hand working between your legs till yoi felt him shudder and moan unable to wait any longer. You reached down between you both, loosening his pants, drawing him free of them, your fingers encircling his thick shaft as you brought his other hand up to your mouth, sucking your taste from his fingers.

His eyes met yours and for a moment you heard his breath catch in his throat. Then he was inside you, no teasing no coaxing, one thrust buried to the hilt. You cried out in pleasure and wrapped your legs around his hips, arching your back to force him deeper. He laid his head in the crook of your neck and drove into you relentlessly, groaning as you tightened around him in response.

Your hips bucked wildly to meet his thrusts, hands moving down to his neck, aching to touch his skin but you were both too far gone. Lost in the sea of euphoric pleasure. Like a raging fire it consumed you both and you felt him surge inside you. He cupped your face bringing your eyes level with his and whispered gruffly, "Regarde moi".

Doing as Vincent commanded, you opened your eyes, trying to focus, your whole being alight and ready to flame. He met your eyes, holding your gaze and you saw his smile broaden as he watched you orgasm. You shuddered, tensing with a soft cry and felt him flood into you with a force that took your breath. Clinging and shuddering he held you so tightly you couldn't breathe properly. The room spiralled as you gave him your weight, still spasming around his cock tightly.

He set you on the floor supporting you with his body till your legs would hold you upright again. Leaning down he kissed you slowly, lingering as his hands smoothed your skirt back into place. Whispering against your temple his words brought you back from the warm tingly place you were dwelling.

“Don’t think that’s the end of it chéri”.

————

[arece]

Never Saw the Start

♤ John Wick x platonic!f!reader (father/daughter duo) series masterlist

(𝟸)

♤ Summary: You make it to the Continental, threats are made. (2.3k)

♤ Warnings: John Wick violence, swears, injuries and blood descriptions.

♤ a/n: There will definitely be more parts, although I'm not completely sure where it's heading. I've begun a tag list so just comment or send in a request to be added! If you want to request little one-shots or ideas you have of these two I think that'd be fun too!

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You were shaken awake by John, unsure how long you slept you still felt a bit drowsy. “Can’t sleep too long on that head. We’re here.” You looked up to see a tall and posh hotel that stood at an angle.

Your door was opened by John who guided you out. You attempted to take off his jacket to return to him but he just pulled it tighter around you. The doors opened for you and you were shocked by the inside of the hotel.

To say it was nice would be an understatement. You and John heavily stood out in your disarrayed states. Both with ripped clothes and drenched in blood, John with a limp to his left leg that you hadn’t noticed until now.

You slightly shrunk into yourself, uncomfortable with the stares of those around you. Little did you know it had more to do with the fact that John Wick was accompanied with a child. As you approached the front desk you were greeted by the manager who held a friendly smile.

A person brushed past you in a rush, you leaned into John, trying not be shoved down by the person in their urgency to exit the hotel.

“Good to see you again, sir. With a guest too?” The man questioned at the end. He studied you but in a way that you weren’t bothered by. John leaned against the desk to relieve pressure against his leg.

“Charon,” he greets, “I’ll be needing a room for her.” The manager's smile dropped into a frown that swam with sympathy. “Is she a member?” The tone of his voice suggested he already knew the answer to his question.

John tensed, the familiar glower you’ve already become accustomed to returned. “Is Winston available?” Charon sighed but nodded. He gestured to a private elevator, “at the bar, sir.” John stood back up and pulled you to follow along.

Before you could disappear into the elevator the manager called out to John, “your other guest… would you like me to bring them out?” John looked at you before nodding at Charon. He disappeared for a moment, when he remerged it was now accompanied by a gray Pitbull.

She ran over to John excitedly, he leant down giving her a few pats as she licked him. She turned around to you, cautiously sniffing you. You couldn’t help but let out a slight squeal as you knelt down to be at the dogs level, “you have a dog?”

You giggled as the dog grew excited with you and jumped at you. John slightly smiled before calling you both to the elevator. You and the dog were now glued to each other's sides, you gave her snout a big kiss before turning back to John, “what’s her name?”

“Dog.” He pressed the button to the last floor and you pouted. “You got this cute dog and didn’t give her a name?” John looked amused at your outrage, reaching past you to give Dog another pat. “I did name her; Dog.”

“That’s not a name-” You were cut off by the elevator's ding and its doors opening. The atmosphere's playfulness evaporated as John’s stance stiffened. His smiles and banter with you morphed into his stoic business stature.

You and Dog followed close behind him, stopping when the bartender called out a joyful, ‘Jonathan!’ your brows furrowed only to discover she was talking to none other than John Wick. “Hello, Addy,” he kindly answers her.

“To think I’d see you back. I thought you’d be done after…” She trails off, pointedly staring at Dog. You looked between the two and Dog as if that’d help you learn what she was referring to. “I guess I’m not quite retired again.”

Addy’s focus snapped to you, seemingly just taking you in, “a job or mini Wick?” 

“She’s not-”

“He’s not my dad.” Both of your voices overlapped with each other. She nodded, pushing a glass towards John that he took without question. “Job then. You’re definitely not old enough for what I have in stock, good with water and some snacks?”

It had been over a day since you’ve last had anything to drink or eat and right now the sound of water and a simple snack seemed like heaven. You nodded eagerly, she grabbed them both for you with a wide grin.

“I’ll be seeing you, Jonathan and not-mini-Wick.” You waved at her, slipping Dog a piece of the cracker you bit into. John nodded to Addy and guided you two to a booth near the back. He waited for you to get settled with Dog and ordered you to sit there.

“I have to talk to someone, you wait here. I won’t be long.” You scooched over to the middle, Dog sitting at your side and stealing more of the food. “John,” you called after him. He paused. “What if I can’t stay?” Will you pass me off like he did? Will I be alone?

“We go somewhere else.” We. You relaxed into the seat, a relieved smile grew on your face. You shot him a thumbs up, chugging back your water and watched him make his way towards an older man reading some papers with a pair of glasses hanging low on his nose.

“Winston,” John greeted. Winston looked up from his papers and smiled when he caught sight of who called for him. “Ah, Jonathan, what may I do for you.” John took a seat in front of him at the table, rubbing at his left leg.

“I have a guest here.” Winston placed down his papers and removed his glasses from their place on his face. “Are they a member?” Winston, being the only person able to read John’s expression, frowned, displeased.

“You know the rules, the Continental is members only. No exceptions,” he looked back down to his papers. John sighed heavily, pushing his hair back and rubbing his forehead. “She’s a kid.” Winston’s attention snapped back to him, catching sight of you a few tables from them.

“Who would entrust you with a child?” Winston looked nothing short of concerned. “She’s in need of protection. Desperate need.” John emphasized. Winston sighed, peering at you. You were giggling along with Dog, still covered in blood and scrapes.

“I wish there was more I could do, Jonathan. Child or not, she is not a member.” John’s jaw tensed. The easy way never worked out. In the Continental you could stay without being harmed while John dealt with the Spade’s. Now he’d have to bring you with him, leaving you out of his sight was too risky.

He gazed back at you only to find a man had joined your table, a man showing off a spade card. John roughly shoved back his seat, catching Winston’s attention. He strode over to your booth, lifting the man up by his collar and tossing him out of the seat.

“Now, let’s not forget hotel rules,” Winston called out from behind in an attempt to prevent the chaos that was about to ensue. John knelt down to the man and held him menacingly, You were cowering back in your seat with Dog growling in front of you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” The man chuckled but the shaking of his hands gave away his fear of being up close to the infamous John wick. “Passing along a message. I’m safe to do so, not even you can hurt me here, Baba Yaga.”

John yanked the man closer, leaning in, “you won’t be able to hide here forever. Now speak to me, not her.” The man grunted at the little shake John gave him. “He wants his pin. Amends can be made but without it, blood will spill. The attack earlier was just a warning.”

You reached into your pocket for the spade pin you took from the body only to come up empty handed. You hadn’t dropped it - you know you didn’t. Your mind flashed back to when you first walked into the hotel. The person who bumped into you earlier. You were a thief and didn’t even notice when you were pickpocketed. 

John watched as utter hopeless dread filled your expression, bottom lip slightly trembling. “It was stolen,” your voice shook. The man held down on the floor laughed out, regaining everyone's attention.

“Let there be blood.” His cackles were silenced by John knocking him unconscious. He stood to meet Winston’s judging stare. “I can’t kill him, but I can hurt him.” Winston sighed, unimpressed.

John walked over to you, pulling you from the booth seat. You were visibly shaking, you had a way to stop all of this and it slipped through your fingers so quickly. He placed a hand on your shoulder, stilling you.

“Is the Doctor in?” Winston smiled, “now that, I can do for you.”

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You were sitting on a cushioned chair, Dog by your feet. John was by the door waiting to greet this Doctor. You wrung your hands together looking all around the room, it wasn’t your typical doctors office - not that you’ve been to many.

Your anxiety was through the roof, not knowing what direction you were heading after this. From the way John had addressed his ‘friend’ you guessed you weren’t welcome in the hotel, and now it was made clear the Spade wanted you dead for a lost pin.

“If it was stolen it’s important and people know it. Valuable things are sold, I know someone who knows everything happening in the city.” He had read your mind. “We go there next?” You asked, leaning down to pet Dog for some comfort.

John shook his head, “we go home next. I have some things I’ll need for future problems.” You had a feeling by ‘things’ he meant weapons and lots of them. “Can you teach me how you use a knife like that?” You wave around your arms, mocking his earlier actions with added sound effects.

“You’re not touching a knife,” he deadpanned. “What about a gun? I’ll need to protect myself,” you pointed out. John stood strong, unaffected by your act, “you won’t be needing any of it.” You grunted in frustration, picking at a scab that started to grow at your knee. 

You thought back to the guy down at the bar, remembering the name he called John by. “What that guy called you - Baba Yaga, like the boogeyman?” He moved from the door, dragging a chair from the corner closer to you and taking a seat.

“Yes.” You watched as he rubbed at the leg he was limping on earlier. “I don’t think it suits you.” He leaned back into the chair, calling over Dog which made you frown over the loss of her attention. “Why’s that?”

“I’ve always imagined the boogeyman wearing a top hat.” He instantly scowled at you, “I’m not wearing a top hat.” You failed at swallowing the laughter that built up from the conjured image of John wearing a top hat while fighting the bad guys.

“Do I get a nickname now since I’m with you?” You tried to call Dog back to you but she stayed by John’s side, betrayal from Dog hurting you worse than the throbbing at the back of your head. “What would you be called, Likho?” 

You didn’t know what that meant but telling from his taunting tone it wasn’t anything nice. “That was an insult. You just made fun, didn’t you?” Though it was less of a question and more of a statement.

John cracked a smirk but refused to face you, instead focusing on Dog. Traitor. “Is your name really Jonathan?” It didn’t sound quite right for him. “Jardani Jovonovich.” In return you told him your full name.

Another road breached on your journey together. Finally the door opened revealing the Doctor you’ve heard mentioned several times. He was a rather old man, older than John. He had a slight hunch and wore a pair of glasses.

“John Wick and a child?” A fact that seems to shock everyone you meet. “Her heads been hit a few times,” John gestures to the back of your head.

The man walks over to your side, pulling up his glasses and muttering a small, “let me see.” He poked and prodded at your head a bit, you did your best to resist flinching away, instead allowing for hissed out winces to escape.

“Well,” he leans back, “no stitches. Just some bandaging for a slight concussion.” He pulled out some white bandages, medical tape, alcohol, and set to work. It didn’t take him very long to patch you up, used to the rush of severely injured hitmen.

Before he could move on you pointed at John, “what about his leg?” The Doctor moved from you to inspect his left leg. “You did not mention your leg,” he scolded, pulling the ripped fabric from the injury. “A stab wound,” he tsked.

Your eyes widened at the casual way John had hid a stab wound all this time. You watched as the Doctor pulled out a stitching kit, John not even blinking as the needle pulled his skin back together. 

“How many times do I have to tell you to not hide injuries? If not for that girl…” The Doctor rambled on amidst his stitching. John’s face scrunched at a particularly hard yank of the needle that he was sure was done purposefully.

“Well, she’s here now to prevent that.” He stood straight after the Doctor finished his stitching, placing his equipment away into a drawer. He pulled a bottle with a few pills, “for her pain.” John pocketed it and nodded for you to get back up.

You watched as he handed the very same gold coin he took from Aurelio to the Doctor. “Come on, kid.” You thanked the Doctor, now heading out to the place John Wick called home. The preparation for the fight over your life now begins.

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taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @ihatemyselfmorethanmydepression @tamnight

[ficsbb]

Hello lovely!! Could you write something about John Wick with a really girly/hyperfeminine reader? I think he would love someone who’s just a total softy and a ray of sunshine. The type to always have flowers around, read fluffy romance books, and has a 10 step skincare routine. I think john would totally spoil her too 🤭🤭 maybe there’s a little bit of an age gap and she loves to tease him about being an old man 😅 idk I just want this man to have a sweet little starburst of a person to treat him right ❤️❤️ illysm 🥰😘

Thank you for the prompt!!! I hope it's to your liking, and I'm sorry it took so long 🫣🌺

》 Pairing: John Wick x Fem!Reader

John is skilled in many things, most being steering clear of big crowds and handling insanely dangerous weapons, but trying to handle two mugs of hot coffee while shooing the pup away is becoming... a task. He climbs the stairs and makes it to your shared room. The door is open slightly, and he catches you sitting in front of your vanity. Small vials, dried florals, makeup palettes littered all over. He doesn't know what half of it is, but he knows it smells like vanilla and lavender. It smells like you. Your eyes catch his, and he smiles as you bubble over with giggles, "Hey, you. Let me help." John nods and leans down to kiss the tip of your nose. "Watch me put on my makeup?" He smiles and says, "Of course."

He watches as you mingle with his acquaintances, your laugh infectious and distinctive. He notices how the younger men look you over and a small spark of jealousy gnaws at him, but he knows it's ridiculous. "Are you alright?" John is startled by your voice and nods quickly, "I'm alright, yeah." You know he isn't, so you grab his hand and lead him outside for some fresh air. "What's wrong?" You ask and watch him look at his hands, avoiding your eyes. You don't push. Rather, let the sound of the wind and low voices of people passing by fill the air until he speaks up. "Are you sure you're okay with me?" He asks, and the question confuses you, "I'm- I- look at these grays." John is taken back when you laugh out loud, uncontrollably. "John," you start, bringing your hands to his face, "your grays don't bother me one bit. I love you, silly." You reach up to peck his nose. He shakes his head and pulls you in for a languid kiss. "Now let's get back so I can show you off." You watch his back straighten, and he follows you inside.

You wake up the next morning to the smell of breakfast. It makes your stomach grumble embarrassingly loud. You find yourself out of bed, rinsed, and ready to head downstairs. "Good morning, pretty girl." John's voice is raspy and still full of sleep. He sets your food in front of you and watches as you take the first bite. "I have something for you." He reaches into his jacket pocket, draped over a kitchen chair, and places a small rectangular box on the counter. Your eyes light up, excited. "What's the special occasion?" He cocks his head to the side, "Since when do I need an occasion to spoil you with gifts?" You don't argue with that and open the box. A beautiful gold anklet with charms is settled into the velvet interior. "John, oh my goodness.." He smiles wide, delighted to see that you like it so much. "Let me." He takes it and kneels down in front of you, propping your foot on his knee to clasp the anklet on. "It fits perfectly, thank you!" You feel flushed when he kisses your foot. "So beautiful." He rises and kisses your lips, leaving you in a daze. "John, you really spoil me." "Not enough." He says and kisses you again.

A full day of shopping usually consists of John watching you pick out pretty things and ask him if he likes it for the bathroom, bedroom, on your body etc. It makes his heart swell. Bags full of fresh new linen and candles, both of your favorite snacks and foods are littered in the trunk of the car by early evening. After settling down, John coming down to the living room, he sees you sitting on the couch. Your legs are tucked up under you with a blanket draped over your shoulders and a mug of something warm in your hands; the steam obviously tickling your nose as you bring it up to your face to take a sip. "May I join you?" You nod and make room. The volume of the television is set low and it starts to lull John to sleep, but before his eyes completely close, he looks over at you. Your eyes set on the rom-com and your hand intertwined with his. "You okay?" You ask him, placing a soft kiss on his forehead. John sighs and closes his eyes, "Yes. Perfectly okay here with you."

[slippinninque]

🍷Girl Time🎀

AU SCENE DROP

just some girls hanging out and having fun!

(in which John gets to be happy thus everyone is allowed to as well)

feat: Koji Shimazu x BlackFemReader, John Wick x Helen Wick, mentions of Sofia x Caine

warnings: MINORS DNI, 18 +, cursing, drinking, sexual themes, just-playing-around fic, long fic, author smoked a fattie pls forgive

"Helen!"

"I"m sorry--I needed the points!"

"Wha'd you meean? You're winning! I was an innocent bystander," You shouted after Sofia and Helen's twin screeches, "I didn't want to think of good brother John like that...damn..."

You watched as Sofia held her head in her hands after the assault of Helen's admission. The other woman, red to her ears, snorted and chortled into the game card in her hand.

"I mean, honestly....ya'll went to a class to learn that or something?"

Sofia yelled your name and you broke as you held up your hands as you cried out. Was it in defense? Was it surrender? You didn't know but you were having a grand time.

You don't know what possessed Sofia to get an erotic card drinking game to play for an impromptu girl's night in, ("Hey, it was all the Dollar Tree had! All I needed was to break a $50!") but it was proving to be more entertaining than you thought.

Slapping on a point system definitely heated things up. With every question you refuse to answer, meant taking a shot. A question quickly enough answered meant the other two ladies took a shot.

You spoke on Koji's behalf and Helen spoke on John's. Sofia answered from her experience and a few dalliances you weren't aware of before. Hell, if anyone blew your brows up--it wasn't just Helen.

Eventually, everyone just started taking shots and pulling cards in semi-consistent order. Cabinets were raided for snacks and chasers as liquor and wine was poured. It got to everyone answering the question or everyone seeming it too "boring". It was more of a...communal scaring of the minds. Good stuff.

Abs aching, cheeks hurting and eyes tearing--you looked at the meager pile of cards in your pile. You could not afford another double-shot. Not if you wanted to lose control of your laugh and have Koji think you were in danger if he and the men returned early from their own 'fun night'.

While you aren't sure of how much Helen knew, you didn't want to blow John's spot when you both were invited to spend girl time with Helen while the men caught up amongst themselves.

You and Sofia introduced yourselves as old friends who were in the entertainment industry. You were a party planner while Sophia was a beast in catering--the type of ladies who didn't spend their time selling their blades and bullets for favors and money.

"--irl, are you listening?" Sofia wiped her face with the edge of her shirt, "Pull a damn card!"

Helen fanned herself with her cards, still laughing and you felt yourself starting up again. You hurried to pull a card, you read it aloud.

"Costumes , lingerie, or nothing at all?"

The two other women visibly lost a bit of interest at one of the tamer questions of the evening.

"Oh, that's not so bad..."

"Yeah, I mean men--what?" Sofia caught the wander of your eye and the sudden itch that came to your elbow, "Spill it! What does Mr. Honor like? He's tied you up, at least."

"No! Well, yeah--but wait!" You shook your hands to level your own attention more than theirs, "That don't matter right now--

"Is it the costumes?" Helen picked up when Sofia reached to pour a shot of tequila, "What is it? Policewoman? Femme Fetal? Oh, a sexy pierrot clown--"

"Neither!"

"Neither?"

Helen narrowed her eyes at you and took a very talk to me type of sip of her wine-whisky and Sofia doubling back to mouth, pierrot? to herself.

"You might have to walk with me a bit with this one, Helen--Sofia, you should know. Remember that part in Fresh Prince of Bel-Air when Aunt Viv--

Sofia squinted her features and you corrected, "Erm, the first Aunt Viv. Remembered when The First Aunt Viv told Uncle Phil that she had something to knock his socks off?"

You deepened your voice and straightened your spine as you mimicked your man, "'I'm not wearing any socks, just come out naked' --and I love my man down, but he just don't be caring for that too much. My sweet Kojiji..."

"Oh wow...."

"Are you serious?"

"Mhm! Honestly but Koji still surprises me to this day. I'd be minding my own business and--

Helen slapped her hands together, "Pounce!"

You snapped and pointed at her, "Indeed! I could be in in a shower cap and Crocs and Koji's all over me!"

"Caine's ass is like that too, I wonder if it's a thing from their little wolf-pack thing they have going on." Sophia hummed thoughtfully

Your eyes wandered as you laminated out loud, "I still can't believe that this is how I found that out that y'all be... touchin'."

Sofia only licked her teeth and you faked gagged.

It was very much like finding out your best friend kissed your other best friend and neither told you about it. The high-school of it all made it more hilarious and you intended to milk this betrayal up until Sophia gifts you with a dish of her famous kefta mkaouara .

You refocused when Helen's giggle descended into a cackle. It was a contagious sound and soon the trio of you were set off again, going up an octave when Sofia ended up knocking over the pile of playing cards.

You were delighted that Helen found John. She would keep him good company, keep him grounded. Helen was firecracker when fucked up, and she was a good woman through and through when sober. They were a perfect match.

A stray memory darted across your mind as you reached for the bottle Sofia offered and you snorted quietly yourself.

Helen waved a finger as she took another swig of her wine-whisky mix, "What was that? Spill!"

"Its not even my turn, it's--

"Spill! Spill! Spill!"

You couldn't handle the pressure, you squealed into your hands as your secret pressed up against your teeth. Alcohol loosened your tongue and it was ready to tell your business. You matched Helen's crisscross and clapped your hands to gather your thoughts.

"Weeell....there was this job, in the Poconos of all places, that Koji did not want me to plan for. He didn't like the customer. Met him once before or something like that."

You refilled your cup and continued, carefully editing the bloodier parts of the true story for Helen's sake. Sofia watched you with knowing eyes but eager for the part of the story she wasn't already familiar with.

"I got it done, wasn't a big party but some of my best work. Everyone was taken care of and I ended up getting recommended to plan a few others." You grinned when Sofia who applauded you in snaps, "Put the client in his place on the way out and I got paid. He got what he asked for, another one bites the dust right? Good job, right? Wrong."

That sent Helen into crisscrossing in her seat, "But why?"

"Girl, guess who came to pick me up?"

"Anything but that..." Sofia's words were tucked into a laugh.

"Koji Thee Shimauzallion himself. And guess who else? Mhmm! Your hubby! That man was the only one who knew about it 'cause he was my damn ride!"

Sofia shuffled the deck of playing cards as she thought out loud, "I think I remember this, Caine felt caught in the middle or some other Brotherhood of the Travelling Henley or something..."

Helen gestured for you to handle her the bottle you obliged as she fussed, "How dare he? You're his bro too and women wear Henleys He can't just rat you out like that!"

"Damn fucking right we do and thank you for saying so! Ah... right! I pack all my equipment up and have my little walk of shame to the car. John's driving and Koji is in the front seat, he never sat apart from me, so I'm thinking shit he's really pissed."

"Mind you this was before we were serious-serious, I just liked him a lot at this point. That's important to the story."

Sofia nods, "Of course! 'course."

"Right, right." Helen hummed.

"So. Here we are. John giving me a sorry buddy-ass stare in the rearview, Koji looking out the window and shit lookin' like he 'bout to tell me pack my denman brush and go and I'm low-key pissed because I was having a good night..."

You had to take a breath from your ramble to laugh. You don't know why you did it, but you took a pour from Helen when she forgot to put the bottle back onto the table.

"He tells me how disappointed he was that I would so such a thing and put myself at risk and dootdootdoot," Sofia chuckled at casual your skipping through dirty details, "I tell him I'm grown and I can ki--handle, handle anybody who needs it, he aint' trying to listen..."

You took a breath and scratched your eyebrow, "We're actually starting to have our first argument at this point! We tell we both tell the other didn't like it, but it was new and it was angry and..."

A dramatic pause for effect had Helen leaning in her seat and Sofia posing to throw a peanut at you.

"Kojitoremyassouttheframe," You let it rush out of you in a sigh as you remembered the only fight you were glad to lose, "Yes, baby girls. Yes, he did. He may have not known it then, but he used that good dick for evil that night."

Sofia was folded over and Helen was recovering from nearly snorting wine-magic out her nose. You carried on through your own building hysterics.

"Listen y'all! This is what happened after! This man gonna look at me and tell me if I ever feel like acting out again to come and find him, he'll give it to me again. Girl, I was through. I rolled him a cigarette, too..."

The sound of laughter felt so good to hear, laughing felt so freeing to do. You needed this time more than you realized and was already planning for future gatherings.

Helen sighed, turning her face up to the ceiling to try and get air. She took a supportive sip of liquor as Sofia wobblily searched for her glass.

"Don't let them quiet ones fool you, right Hel'? It's a real mutherfucker up under them puppy dog eyes..."

Helen rubbed her eyes with the backs of her hands, breathing in wetly.

"To be comply honest ladies, something similar happened to me with John."

"Oh my God!!"

"Spilly-spill-spill~!"

"Okay, okay! Spill I shall..."

Turns out that John had the audacity to hint that Helen wasn't capable of talking care of herself within the short distance it took to get to her car from her workplace doors.

Helen had the brilliant idea to go out with some girlfriends and not tell John. Fully intending to have a cool story when she returned home about how she was a 'big girl' and could do as she pleased. You gasped and nearly choked while Sofia went off like a low, wide eyed police siren,

"Yyyoooou can't be doing no shit like that, Helen! You ain't scared of shit?"

"Pfft, well yeah... just not Johnny."

Of course you rose you glass to that, "Go off, Helen..."

Helen snorted but gave a little tilt to her head that had you pointing accusingly. Spill.

Sofia caught on and her eyes narrowed, "Yeah, how'd stand of yours end?"

Helen suddenly found her nails very interesting, "Well...."

Helen described the dark look in John's eyes as he stalked into the bar. Helen remembered aloud how he scanned the crowd, finding her as easily as if she were the only one in the room.

"I-I froze! It was so weird and my girlfriends took the blame but he knows me, it was totally my idea!"

"Then what after that? I know good brother John didn't let that fly..." You giggled with Sofia's, knowing how John could get when he felt wronged.

Helen picked up her drink and muttered something into the rim before taking a hearty sip. You squinted as what Helen said fell short of your ears.

"Huh? What was that?" Sofia apparently heard judging from the Cheshire smile on her face, hand cupped to her ear.

Helen's answer was to go from flushed pink to raging red up to her ears, "I said we never made it out the parking lot!"

You pointed and laughed but hoped Helen saw the comradery in it. You got some popcorn and blame thrown your way but couldn't stop laughing. It may have been the liquor or the overload of endorphins--but you were so happy.

You can finally say you had friends.

Smiling dopily at the two women across from you and relaxing into the plush seat, you reached for another card to start more shit.

---------------

✨ending notes✨: This was sooooo much fun to write and a good release!🫣 this idea of an unhinged girl night would not leave me alone, forgive me for any foolishness as i was smoking on my day off 🤣t. i may do a prt2, what do ya'll think?

💜taglist💜: @megamindsecretlair @sageispunk @harmshake @blowmymbackout @miyuhpapayuh @ellethespaceunicorn

@astoldbyaja @ms-angiealsina @kindofaintrovert @soft-persephone @mcondance

@miyuhpapayuh

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Tied Together - John Wick X Female Reader

Title: Tied Together

John Wick X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Dog/Boy (John's Pitbull), and Freckles the Dalmatian (OC)

Requested by Anon!

WC: 1,594

Warnings: embarrassment, nervousness, slight 101 Dalmatians movie reference/meet cute, John being John, awkwardness, slight angst, and fluff

The sun was shining brightly down upon you and your dog, Freckles. He was a Dalmatian, with five prominent spots on his nose and around his eyes, with black ears, and the usual black spots that dotted his short white coat. He was a beautiful, angelic animal... When he wanted to be. He was always running off on his own to do things like play in the park, or run through the woods in search of birds, squirrels, or any other small prey animals. But that was just how dogs acted, and you loved Freckles. He was your best friend. 

The park was nice, calm, and with very few kids running around; playing games, or having picnics with their families. It was just perfect weather for a walk. You weren't really paying attention, but with a sharp tug of the leash, you looked up abruptly. Freckles was bouncing or hopping back and forth, looking up at you with wide bright eyes, seemingly excited about something. You frowned slightly, tilting your head.

"Freckles... Honey... What is it?" You asked your hyper dog. "Is it a squirrel?" His tail wagged wildly and he let out another yip of excitement. And before you knew it, Freckles bolted. You almost fell forward, stumbling to not fall as Freckles pulled you along behind him. This dog was certainly more intelligent than most. You knew he wanted something, and you almost regretted putting him on the leash. You looked up, eyes widening when your dog went barreling into someone. 

Freckles jumped up on a man, his dirty paws landing on the man's suit pants, making you cringe. The man turned, looking down at the tail-wagging, tongue-hanging-out dog. The man's black hair fell like dark curtains, framing his face almost too perfectly. Your heart stopped at the sight of his brown eyes, so deep, you couldn't imagine ever looking away. His lips were pulled into a tight frown as if angry; however, his eyes told you differently. They held an emotion you had never seen before. A kind of sadness that made you yourself worry. You swallowed nervously, giving the man an awkward smile as you quickly apologized. "I'm sorry. Freckles doesn't usually do this." 

The man looked back down at your dog, who hopped off his legs and began to sniff his Pitbull. "Freckles?" He asked, his voice deep and mysterious, making you wonder what his morning voice would sound like.

You nodded sheepishly. "Yeah... Uh... He's got spots, like freckles... So I sort of got inspiration from that?" You spoke, your sentence becoming more of a question the more you spoke. 

The man before you then turned down to look at the dogs, watching them play with each other. It was silent for a long time, an awkward tension in the air as you watched your dog, subtly glancing at the man beside you. He still hadn’t said anything, which made you feel even more nervous. His overall presence beside you made you nervous. You couldn't get over how handsome the man was. He was definitely more attractive than any guy you’d ever met. You shook your head lightly. That thought was ridiculous and inappropriate. You were only meeting the man for the first time, and already thinking about that?

"So..." You began, instantly cringing at yourself, "What's your dog's name?" You asked, and the man beside you said nothing for a while, making you want to crawl up inside a hole and die, but you let out a breath when he finally spoke.

"... Boy. His name is Boy." He answered, his voice softening and sounding more relaxed now.

Your jaw dropped slightly. "... Oh." You responded lamely, and you could've kicked yourself. "Boy… That's a good name for him…" You added quietly, looking back down at Freckles and Boy playing. You couldn't help smiling slightly.

He chuckled softly. "Yes, I suppose it is." Then he smiled slightly, before turning slightly towards you, his hand out. "My name is John."

Your eyes widened slightly as you took his hand, shaking it gently, feeling your cheeks heat up slightly. "Uh... Y/N. Nice to meet you." You stuttered, feeling more embarrassed with every passing second that passed by. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears and felt sick to your stomach. You were so stupid... So unbelievably stupid. You should've been able to hold a normal conversation with him, and yet here you were trying to make small talk. "So, uh... Where'd you get Boy?"

John glanced at you before looking back at the two playing dogs, "A kennel." He answered simply, and you looked at him with a surprised expression.

"Really? That is so sweet. Rescuing dogs is such a noble and heroic thing. I didn't get the chance for Freckles. My parents gifted him to me." You replied with a soft giggle, causing John to glance back at you. You cleared your throat before speaking again, "Sorry. Uh, I'm not really good at socializing." You said quickly, your cheeks growing warmer with embarrassment.

"No apologies needed," He murmured, "Socializing isn't really part of my expertise either." He added, causing you to blink in surprise.

"Oh... Well..." You trailed off. Why did you suddenly feel the need to fill the silence? Why did you want to speak to him further? You tried to think of what to say. "Well, it's nice to meet another introvert like me." You inwardly cringed again, realizing how stupid that sounded.

John gave you a look, and you thought you almost saw another smile before a small yip brought your eyes to your dog. You bit your lip briefly before you looked up at John once more, "Uh, I might as well go. I have to make lunch soon, and Freckles must be tired from all the playing." You chuckled, as Freckled pranced over to you. "It was nice meeting you, John." You looked down at Boy. “And you too, Boy.” The pitbull barked happily.

John nodded, offering you a small smile, "You too."

As you turned to walk away, Freckles walked with you for a while before he barked up at you, suddenly turning and running back to John and Boy. You watched in horror as Freckles ran up to John and Boy, your rambunctious dog then launched you into John's back. Slightly startling the man as he turned around, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you blushed madly. You tried to pull away, apologizing profusely but you couldn't move your legs. Looking down, you watched as Freckles chased Dog around you and John, ultimately tying the two of you together with the leash. 

"Freckles! Stop!" You shouted both yours and John's bodies pressed together uncomfortably as you tried to stop your dog. Looking up at John, you continued to apologize. "I'm sorry about him, he's usually very well-behaved."

John shook his head, his hands wrapped almost protectively around your biceps, "It's alright, please don't apologize."

"Well, I can't help but be sorry." You spoke, almost defeated. "I feel so embarrassed." You mumbled softly, feeling your cheeks grow hot as you stared up at the man, who smiled slightly at you, his hand loosening its grip on your arm.

"Please, don't worry." He spoke, "It was an accident."

"I know." You sighed, "Here, we should try and get out of this." You mentioned before you and John began to successfully untangle yourselves from the leash. 

Hands on your hips, you glared down at Freckles, who looked up at you with wide puppy dog eyes. "Oh, you're in big trouble, mister." You scolded him gently, in a slight baby voice. "No treat tonight." At your words, Freckles whined, before seemingly huffing and sitting down. "Oh, don't give me that attitude, young man." You chastised sternly, and Freckles pouted up at you. "Don't give me that look! Don't you dare pout at me either!" John looked at you with a warm smile, clearly amused. His smile left once you turned to look up at him. "I'm sorry about him again, there has to be something I can do to make it up to you." You offered.

John quickly shook his head, "No, it's alright. I understand."

You took your turn to shake your head, "No, please. I must do something to make this up to you. I won't be able to sleep at night if I don't." You practically pleaded. John stared at you, frowning slightly, the gears turning in his head as you continued, "Please, let me take you to this sweet diner I know. I'll pay for lunch."

John paused for a moment, his brows furrowing in thought as he slowly shook his head, as if not wanting to accept. "You don't have to do that."

"But I want to." You insisted.

John continued to stare at you, his eyes raking over your features, analyzing everything he could; from your hair to your eyes, to your lips. His own lips parted, but no words came out. Could John open his heart again? Could he let his cold heart thaw? Could John let someone back into his heart? He opened his mouth a few times, an "Alright." Finally fell out. You smiled widely.

"Really?" You asked excitedly.

"Sure." He repeated himself, his hands finding a place in his pants pockets. "So, where is this diner?"

You grabbed Freckles's leash as you and John began to walk out of the park, Freckles and Boy fooling around as they followed. "Well, it's just up the street! It's super nice, has the best milkshakes, and is pet friendly..."

[tangerinesgirl]

I’m on my knees BEGGING please write something for the marquis, there hasn’t been anything new for MONTHS

Fully Charged

Fem!Reader x Marquis de Gramont

Word count: 800 (could have sworn this was longer!)

Rating: explicit, 18+, no minors

Warnings: smut, p in v, phone sex, exhibitionism, rough sex, creampie

Summary: After spending the night together, the Marquis has an important phone call to answer, right in the middle of you two having sex.

The sun streaming in from the curtains gently woke you up. Your mind instantly jumps back to the events of last night; the party, how the Marquis couldn’t keep his hands off you on the ride back in front of the chauffeur, the passionate kiss leading you both to the bedroom. The way he wanted you to leave your dress on as he guided you onto the bed and ate your pussy like a man starved. The way you rode him all night, and slept naked on his expensive silk sheets together.

Your mind flicks back to reality, you can feel the Marquis slowly waking up too. You can tell this by the growing morning wood you can feel on your back as he spoons you deeply. He lets out a deep inhale as he wakes up to nuzzle into your neck. “Good morning”, even though he can be quite harsh for the organisation he works for, which can bleed into his sex life too, he can be surprisingly nice when he wants to. 

You turn over to face him and straddle his waist so his wood is teasing at your entrance, “Hmm yeah I would say it is, yes”, you both smile knowing what you’re alluding to. 

“I can still feel how wet you were from last night… Did my baby girl not get enough attention?”, he tucks in a stray hair behind your ear, looking at your eyes then down down at your lips.

“I could say the same for you”, you bite your lip as you flip yourself on top of him. You start to grind on his member as he reaches for your sunlit tits, your nipples growing hard from his touch. 

Precum is already leaking out of him, as you insert his cock into you. You let out a satisfied moan as he fills you up perfectly, when-

*BZZ BZZ BZZ*

“Don’t move”, the Marquis demands, his sudden tone turning you on even more as you clench around him. He answers the phone with no greeting, holding it up to his ear. He covers the speaker briefly, “Did I tell you to stop?”, he has totally changed, you can tell it was important business by the way he instantly got worked up. You continue to ride him slowly so the bed doesn’t creak too loudly. “Mmhmm, so you didn’t do as you’re fucking told?”, he pulls your hair as a signal for you to go harder. You guide his hand down to your breasts where he tugs on your nipple. You suddenly forget yourself and let out a little “Marquis”. He instantly puts his hand around your mouth. You stop. There’s a long pause, then, “No, now is a good time. Continue.” 

You take this as a signal to resume riding him, when he suddenly flips you over, putting you on your back. “I gave you one simple instruction”, he puts the phone down and on speaker, so he can have a better grip on you. “But seems you can’t follow fucking orders”, his hand grips your mouth and jaw as he starts pounding into you, as he unleashes his anger through you. His cock knocking against your cervix, tears forming at the side of your eyes as you try not to moan out loud.

He stops suddenly as his other hand, that’s currently protecting the headboard from making a noise, dips underneath you, his fingers starting to play with your clit. “So by noon today I want you to fix your simple mistake”. You can hear the caller on the other end close to tears, spilling constant apologies out of his mouth. You let out a little whimper as he plays with your sensitive nub. “Just a moment”, he covers the speaker again and ducks down to whisper into your ear, “if you don’t be quiet, I’ll make you be quiet”. You let out a small nod, “Good girl”, he smirks. 

“Now as I was saying,” he resumes hammering into you without warning, your legs wrapping around his waist to take him deeper, “if I don’t hear back from you in two hours saying you’ve located Mr Wick,” you can feel the Marquis getting closer to finishing. You aren’t far behind him as you arch your back. “I will hang you for all the Continental to see, as a warning, and simply just because I can. Understood?” The caller whimpers and agrees, hanging up soon after.

The Marquis lets go of your jaw and you both spill moans out as he reaches his climax, he continues to rut into you as you can feel yourself filling up with his seed. The sensation brings you to your peak as you come undone underneath him, tensing up around his dick as he unloads into you. He pants and groans as you milk him for everything that he has, as he claims you as his. He removes himself from you, his hand pushing his seed back into you. He wipes away a tear from your face and gives you a quick kiss on your neck, "Mine", he whispers as he falls onto the bed with a deep exhale.

“So… Do you have any more phone calls to take?”, you look at each other with a smile.

[feinv]

black beauty. john wick x fem!reader. smut. fluff. unprotected sex on a couch (it’s big and comfortable). missionary. praise, oh god. established rp. john the loving husband. 1.5 words

summary. john comes home to you after a long day, only to find out you missed him just as much as he missed you ;)

a/n. first ever full fic lesgooo. feedbacks and reblogs are greatly appreciated. enjoy! 💌

the moonlight shone through the panel glasses of the house you and john now shared together. for john, this house was nothing but a concrete construction — lifeless, dull, and lonely. just a place where he could eat, shower, and sometimes sleep, if he could return before sunrise. ever since you came into his life, the house was now home to him, a comfort place where his lover awaited him with open arms and a heart full of lust and desire.

you were on the couch, tucked tightly under the blankets. you must have fallen asleep while waiting for john again: a constant occurrence. but you didn't mind, not at all. how could you? he was the best man out there, your favorite person in the whole word, so devoted to you. you would wait an eternity for him if it meant you would be together in the end.

the sound of an approaching car accompanied by a lock turn woke you up. you rubbed your eyes slightly, hoping to get some sense of time and place after the nap before a mild panic seized through your body, but quickly vanished when you realized it could only be john. no one in their right or even wrong mind would dare to break into the infamous baba yaga’s house.

john sighs heavily as he closes the door behind him, being relieved that he has finally made it home to you. he took in his surroundings, the moonlight casting pale and ghastly shades — the only light in the living room. his eyes then locked on your sleepy figure covered in blankets — the only light in his life.

“oh, sweetheart…” his tired and hoarse voice echoed as he approached you slowly, stopping in front of the couch, looking down at you. “you didn’t have to stay up for me.”

“can’t sleep without you,” you turn your head up, looking at him with your doe eyes before moving your hands up to reach his neck. he cranes his body down to hug you, hands wrapping around your waist and lifting you up. he turns both of you around before sitting down on the coach with you straddling his lap.

his hands still resting on your lower back, he casts a glance at your face, the lamp illuminating your beautiful features. his look is so gentle and loving instead of his usual cold exterior - one he always carries around others, but never with you.

“i missed you,” he whispers in the dark, one of his hands brushing the hair out of your face. you smiled softly before his lips crushed into yours, kissing you so tenderly, so gently, as if he was afraid you would break. you return the kiss while your hands find the end of his soft raven hair to play with.

“missed you too…so much,” you say in between. there is a soft groan at the back of his throat as he deepens the kiss, sliding his hands under your shirt, his calloused fingers sending shivers down your spine. as your lips move in unison, john becomes more passionate, taking your bottom lip between his teeth, earning a soft moan from you, and pulling you closer to him.

you break the kiss only to catch your breath when his lips start kissing your jawline. you move you head back, giving him more access to your neck where he is leaving red bite marks and bruises. john moves his hands from your waist, pulling your shirt off, cursing to himself when he realizes you weren’t wearing a bra. you got off him for a second to quickly get rid of your shorts, only panties covering your body now. your cheeks flush due to bareness of your body, all exposed to him, in contrast to his full suit.

right when you were about to sit back in his lap, he flipped you onto the couch, towering over you. john takes a moment to admire you, lips reaching to your collarbone and planting a kiss there. he continues to plant soft kisses all over your body, hands roaming just about everywhere.

“so goddamn beautiful,” he whispers between the kisses, his beard tickling your soft skin, making sure to worship every inch of your body — like he always does. he always told you you were a goddess. and he would worship you like one. you let out several moans under his touch, unable to control your voice, eyes sparkling at the thought of what you were about to do.

john tugs the waistband of your panties, slowly sliding it down your legs, moments before it joins the pile of clothes long forgotten on the floor. he kisses your lips again, more urgently this time, more messier, hungrier.

“look at you…so perfect, so flawless,” he murmured, his eyes shamelessly roaming all over your nude body, your every curve — so vulnerable and trusting for him.

you move your hands to his trousers, clumsy fingers unbuckling his belt, letting them fall loose, visible bulge through his underwear making your stomach squirm with excitement. you quickly tug his underwear down, letting his dick sprang free, tip glistering with pre-cum. you didn’t have the time to undress the rest of him when john did it himself, watching as you occupy yourself by gliding your fingers down to your folds.

what a sight to behold, he thought to himself.

what he didn’t know is that you were thinking the exact same thing looking up at his body. all six feet of him completely naked for you, his toned muscles and bulky arms, scars and decades old wounds making your head dizzy.

you loved every inch of him. he was perfect to you, although he would never admit that to himself.

“no, darling. let me make you feel good,” john took your hands and pinned them behind your head with his one hand. his other hand slowly replacing yours and moving to your folds, fingers lazily drawing circles on your clit, his head now buried in the valley between your nude breasts, kissing and sucking your soft skin.

“john…”you moan at the sensation, falling your head back on the couch. he looks up at you, his dark eyes boring into yours. he sets your pinned hands free when he shifts back a little, aligning himself in front of your entrance. his one hand was now readjusted on your thigh, gently holding it while his other hand held yours. he always did that when you were making love. it was a silent gesture, a sign of affection — love, lust, trust.

you both grunted when he slowly entered you, inch by inch, careful not to hurt you as you took a minute to stretch and get used to his sheer size. once you gave him a little nod, john started thrusting into you, in and out, keeping a steady pace. you wrapped your legs around his torso, allowing him a deeper access.

as his thrusts become more violent and urging, a groan escapes his lips as he watches him disappearing in and out if you, taking the scenery in front of him. your mouth slightly open, your hooded eyes struggling to focus, your desperate moans filling the room, breasts bouncing with each thrust. this sight alone could send him over the edge.

john hits your sensitive spot every single time, having memorized exactly how your body works, making you produce all kinds of sounds. you grip the couch, the soft material clenching under your fingers as your eyes start to water at how good he’s fucking you.

“don’t-” you fail to form a sentence, which instead came out as a whimper, as your pleasure was nearing you, making your mind clouded and brain all fogged.

“what was that, sweetheart? couldn’t hear you,” john replied to your plea, simultaneously moving closer to you.

“i- fuck!” you mewled when he took your one breast into his mouth while his hand was toying with your clit. he licked your nipple, gently sucking and swirling on it with his skilled tongue, before moving to give the same attention to you other breast. you were now fucked into oblivion, almost unconscious, goosebumps seizing your whole body, eyes rolling back as he kept pleasuring you in different ways.

he was delighted to know he was making you feel those things, and he would tease you about it. he slowed down his movements, not giving you the satisfaction you needed yet. “use your words, darling.”

you sigh frustrated, needing him to move faster. “please…i need you, john. need you so bad, please.”

what could he do if not comply?

he continued his voluptuous rhythm, your previous pleasure building up again. you move your hand to his back for additional support, leaving red scratch marks all over, earning a groan from him.

“there you go. doing so good for me, angel,” he was dangerously close too, nearly unable to hold himself, but for him, your pleasure was a priority.

with few final thrusts, you scream out his name so loud — almost pornographically — as the waves of orgasm wash over you, vibrating through your whole body. john follows, not far behind. with a particular loud groan he spills his release inside of you, head falling back with a few strands of hair stuck on his forehead.

after you both ride out your highs, john moves both of you so you find yourself straddling him again. he tugs you closer to him with his arms draped around your body, drawing small soothing circles on your back. your arms crossed behind his neck, you let your head fall on his chest, buried in the crook of his neck while his cock was still buried in you.

you both stay in that position for a minute longer, silently indulging in each other's embrace before exchanging i love yous and slow kisses, moonlight shining over your sore figures.

[multific]

Being Vincent de Gramont's Sugar Baby - Headcanons

Vincent de Gramont x Fem!Reader

Part 2

Warnings: Smut

This man was looking for a good time

Something simple

Something easy

Someone he could call whenever he wanted some female attention

And so, he found you

You were perfect

Exactly his type

Easy to win over with the promise of money

He did a full check on you, of course

Realizing that you weren't in the best of financial positions, now he just needed a plan

When he told you what his intentions were

Maybe he could have been sweeter

You slapped him right across the face

"I'm not a slut, asshole"

You said before you slammed his drink on the table and walked away

He liked that

Very much so

He liked a challenge

It wasn't what he was looking for

But it was better than anything he imagined

You were firey

And he was too handsome

He looked too good in his suits

It was making you weak

One time, he asked for his usual

And you were to bring it to him to his room

You weren't a maid, it wasn't your job description when you started working at the Continental's bar

When you stepped into his room, you noticed no one else was there

He was wearing a white suit

You were still angry because of his previous... offer

But shit, he looked too good

He said something in French before he thanked you for the drink

Right then and there, you reconsidered his offer

Right then and there, you accepted his offer

And right then and there, he fucked you against the window

What he didn’t know is that you didn't want his money

So after paying off your debt, you put the money he sent you to a separate account

You planned on giving it back once he had enough of you

Or give it to charity

You had a good life now

You were his sugar baby, sure

But it was a good life

He was extremely cruel and arrogant

But there were moments when he was very kind to you

Buying you gifts came naturally

It was in the job description of being a sugar baby

Even if it wasn't him personally buying the stuff

You had bags, jewelry and shoes, dresses and lingerie

You noticed early on that he was a very demanding and controlling person

He wanted you to dress in a way he liked it

He even made you go to the hair dresser and got your hair done in a way he liked it

You didn't feel like yourself

It was wrong

But every time he called you 'Kitten' it was over for you

He had a very high sex drive and a great stamina

Going on for hours at times

He was demanding but also giving

He liked it rough but never hurt you

He liked to edge you but never to the point of too much

He was cruel but he always made sure you were pleased

It could be worse

You often found yourself saying

Which wasn't the best

But hey, it could be worse

After a couple months, you learned a lot about him

Every time someone entered his office, you knew when you needed to leave

You knew when he was angry

And when he was calm

You knew when he needed something to eat, drink or a blowjob

He is a man after all, reading him was easy

But he is also a boss

You knew what it meant when he took his jacket off and rolled up his sleeves

He was sexy

Extremely sexy

And the worst is that he knew it

And he used it against you, many times

Teasing you

Teasing him was something you never meant to do, not intentionally anyway

You told yourself from the start, he is a bad man, he only wants you so he can have a pet, he didn't want you as a woman, don't catch feelings

Do not catch feelings

But of course you did

How could you not

Every time he brought you to a meeting or a dinner, he dressed you up as a doll, pulling you into his arms

He walked around with you attached to his side

He looked extremely proud to have you on his arm as well

And in the beginning, you loved it

You enjoyed the attention you got

You enjoyed the envious looks of women

But soon you realized, you were awful

After being his sugar baby for almost a year and a half

You met many rich men with sugar babies

You met and talked with many of said sugar babies

And you realized just how dumb you were

You caught feelings, which was like the number one rule on the ‘what not to do’ list

You felt so stupid

And the worst part was that you actually loved him

Like, really loved him

You cared for Vincent on a deep level and you didn't know what to do with these feelings

You didn't dare to tell him

You didn't dare to tell his men or your friends

You were majorly fucked

During an evening, you met a couple, wife and husband, Mr and Mrs Ghandram

And as Vincent and Mr Ghandram moved to a different room to speak business, you were left with Mrs

"You didn't realize that he loves you right?" she asked, nearly making you choke on your Martini

"Excuse me?"

"I can see it in his eyes. That's not a way a 'sugar daddy' looks at their toy. That man is in love with you and I can see you love him just as much."

You were shocked

Him in love?

Not possible

But as he arrived back to your side, now, you saw that shine in his eyes you didn't notice before

Could it be true?

Part 2

Taglist: @fleursirvart​ @greenarrowhead​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @sincerelyfan​ @theoneanna​ @aestheticsandmarvel​ @rororo06​ @castellandiangelo​ @destynelseclipsa​ @spilledinkindumpster​ @capsiclesdoll​ @puknow​ @alwayshave-faith​ @alex12948​ @lxdyred​  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl​ @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek​ @praline357​ @trshngyn​ @avengers-r-us​ @violet-19999​ @top1bbgloak​   @manduse​   @jacalineiscomingforyou​  

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, PLAGIARISE, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS  

[astoldbyaja]

Osaka Sunbird

One shot on what would happen if Koji Shimazu didn't die after his fight with Caine. What if a past love actually saved him?

Koji Shimazu x Black Female OC

In Another Life

Koji Shimazu gasped hard, his body jolted almost as he saw a white ceiling. Was this the afterlife? He moved to sit up but the sudden pain to his body made him still. His vision was a tad blurry, he didn’t have his glasses on.

“Akira…” he rasped lowly. Where was his daughter? He remembered fighting Caine, the final blow, and his vision going dark in his daughter’s arms. “Akira!”

A high-pitched noise made him look to the side, it almost sounded like someone was shushing him? He saw blurred flowers painted on walls and that alone was familiar to him. He was in one of his hotel rooms. It wasn’t demolished? There was silence now and he tried to move his hands only to see his wrists chained to the bed. What was going on.

“What is this!” he shouted, a panic overcoming him mixed with confusion of his surroundings and fear he didn’t know where his daughter was. “AKIRA!” His chest hurt but he didn’t care. Suddenly the door of the room slid back and a black figure stood there. Koji was still as he saw the slim figure of someone in a black mask with two white dots side to side and a big wide smile painted beneath.

“You are like a baby, not knowing when to be silent!” the female voice hissed. The African accent made Koji recoil. He was familiar with that tone.

“Gemini Abara… what are you doing here?” he rasped. The woman crossed her arms.

“Protecting you. Mother heard John Wick had been here and knew there would be trouble so she tasked me with locking down your hotel and cleaning it up so you can get back to running it.” she said almost with a pout. Koji was heavily confused. Why would she be here after all these years.

“My daughter… Akira, she is injured.” he said swiftly. He needed to know if she was alive. Gemini gave a curt nod.

“I have birds out looking for her right now.” she informed. He sighed with mild relief, hoping that she was safe. She knew of many safe havens to go to if the hotel was ever under siege. The masked woman struts over to him before reaching into her suit pocket and pulling out his glasses. She put them on his face, uncuffed his hands, then went over and pulled up a chair and sat down, crossing her legs and tapping her black boot up and down.

“My staff?” he asked.

“Those who can be saved will be saved, the dead will be buried all expenses will go the Abara Family. As of right now your hotel is simply... under construction.” she informed. Koji shook his head.

“I should be dead.” Koji said and Gemini nodded.

“I wanted to let you die. You brought my mother nothing but pain yet she told me to do all I could to bring you back. Luckily Caine still decided to spare your life. I guess you both having a daughter gave him a change of heart.” she said venomously. Koji inhaled some and looked down at his body finally having the will power to sit up. His body was bandaged and the bullet wound he had was cleaned and bandaged.

“And what will the High Table think of one of its own going against them?” he asked. The woman was silent as the sound of heals on marble floor came gently down the hall. Koji looked toward the door and Gemini stood up as the door slid open. His eyes slowly filled with emotion as a woman entered. She was aged like Koji, but her milk chocolate skin showed no cracks of age. Her once long curly hair was now shoulder length and black. Her body was still very much in shape as she stood with poise. She was in a red dress and red headdress.

“Amara.” Koji said breathlessly. The woman looked at her daughter and just nodded. Gemini bowed and exited the room leaving the two alone. Amara looked at Koji with warmth in her soft green eyes and slowly approached.

“Hello Koji.” she said gently moving to bring the chair closer to sit down beside him. Koji looked almost mesmerized as the woman smiled at him. “Considering everything, you look well.”

Her voice was like music to his ears, a melody he had missed for over twenty years.

“Amara I- ” he was a loss of words. Slowly Amara shook her head.

“Don’t speak. I have everything taken care of here.” she said assuredly. Koji still shook his head.

“Your brother sits on the High Table. They’ve released the Marquis to capture John Wick. The hotel was deemed deconsecrated.” he said. Amara just placed her hand gently on his chest gently shushing him.

“It’s alright. My brother owed me a favor and a marker.” she replied. Koji raised his hand and slowly placed it over hers, even going so far as to gently hold it.

“You wasted a marker on me, Amara-”

“Some things go further than markers… like brotherhood and a love we once shared for each other.” she said. Koji stared at her stunned before the door slid open again. Gemini came in.

“Intombi ka-Osaka ifunyenwe.” she informed. (Osaka’s daughter is found). Amara nodded.

“Mziseni apha.” she commanded and Gemini nodded and closed the door. Amara looked at Koji with a smile before slowly standing.

“Your daughter has been found and she will be here any moment. I leave you to repair your hotel and restore it to its excellency. Your doctors should be able to take your medical care from here.” she replied. She began to withdrawal, but Koji quickly took hold of her hand before she was too far away.

“Amara… thank you.” he said. The woman smiled and gave a brief nod before moving to the door. “And you are wrong…”

She paused and turned to him curiously as he just shook his head.

“The love we once shared is incorrect. My love for you will always burn bright in my heart.” he said. Amara stared at him for a moment before smiling lovingly at the healing manager. Her hand came up to gently graze his soft skin. Oh how she missed his touch.

“As my love for you.” she said before turning and moving out the door. Her footsteps echoed in his mind as they grew faint, just like when she left all those years ago.

Amara walked down the halls of the hotel with power and strength. As she passed through the hallway, figures in red suites and masks moved to stand behind her silently falling in line two by two to escort her through the halls. As they got down to the lobby which was being cleaned and decontaminated, an injured Akira was being held by the side by one of her guards. As she limped through looking around heavily confused as to what was going on, she was passing the woman in red.

She knew this woman, Lady Amara Abara, sister of the High Table Roman Abara and sister of Poison Master, Satin Abara. The Abara Family was very well known and for a member to be here confused the young concierge. But Amara would not look her way as she walked.

Koji lied back against the bed thinking of the woman who was just here. The woman who could bring him to his knees in seconds. Memories of the past rolled into his mind.

“We were fools to think our families would allow us to be together. Our paths did not involve each other.” Koji said and Amara closed her eyes, tears streaming down her face.

“For being powerful people, we are completely powerless when together and that will result in weakness.” she admitted.

“Goodbye, Amara.” he said.

“Goodbye, Koji…”

The door slid open and Akira was brought in.

“FATHER!” she cried out and Koji looked at her with tears in his eyes as the two embraced. Overwhelming joy filled his body as his daughter was alive and well. He pulled back to look down her body.

“Your wound.” he said. Akira shook her head.

“There are medical staff here… Father I thought you were… How?” she asked. Koji slowly looked toward the door.

“It seems we owe a large gratitude to Lady Amara Abara and her Sunbirds.” he said. Akira looked at her father’s face seeing that look of longing. She has noticed that look many times when discussion of The Abara Family came up around him. She wasn’t a fool, she had known for a very long time her father was not truly in love with her mother, even if he treated her with love and respect. She remembered her mother telling her there are two kinds of love: loving someone and being in love with them. Her father loved her mother, but he was in love with another. She finally looked back at the door remembering the look of strength on Lady Amara’s face as she led her assassins from the building. It was her. She looked down slowly before looking up at her father.

“Maybe you will see her again.” she said. Koji looked down at his daughter giving a gentle smile.

“Maybe… in another life.”

------------

Author’s notes

So if you’ve read my Pink Blossom, I feel this is just another life of where Grace and Ujio found each other. Now I do have a chapter started about the youth of Koji Shimazu and Amara Abara, but I’m still deciding if I want to work on it. But we will see hehe

Taglist

@slippinninque

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

love hurts - john wick/plus size fem reader, nsfw

TW: dubcon, choking, angst, dom/sub undertones, author attempt at russian language, I think that’s it

Summary: you are in love with john wick.

You suppose you should feel bad about letting him take the lead on this. He’s always taking control of everything with such swift efficiency, no breaks in between. And this too. Even this. Making your cunt pulse around nothing while he rolls his nice dress sleeves up. It’s the forearms, really, all decorated with sinew and tendon and bulging vein. The way his huge fingers work like they’re dainty. You keep getting off track.

Take some semblance of control back.

The kitchen counter is icy compared to his warm hands; you know because your dress is riding up above your thighs. He’s pushing it up- nicely … softly … this time - like he’s afraid to spook you, like he’s apologizing for something. It seems he doesn’t really know how to be soft, though, because his touch is still rough, the measured pull of his palms and calloused knuckles on your jiggly flesh leaving red indents in their wake.

“krasivaya devushka,” he hums, just for you, kisses below your right ear, turning you into a throbbing beacon of light and warmth. Your toes curl up and you grunt. Maybe it’s not just the forearms, then, but his voice, too, consuming baritone that commands the room, the air, the band no matter how quiet he uses it.

Your underwear are an inconvenience to him. He slaps the band against your hips and receives a jerk of surprise, tsking at you as if you’re not supposed to be wearing any clothes.

Your punishment is him rubbing teasing, loose circles over your clothed clit.

His smile is against the pulse in your neck, expert fingers purposefully find no rhythm or meaning, keep the orchestra quiet and the audience on edge. The air is thick and wet like you’re in an auditorium with a 100 other people.

Your moan is muffled by saliva, instead coming out as a gurgle like a person who is dying and filling with fluid. The irony isn’t lost on you that he’s killing you in a much different way than he usually kills people. However, the same lethal precision is still being utilized. The gaze of the hunter, the controlled and harsh movement, the concentration. You try to swallow but your body wants the fluid in your throat.

The next few moans from you are just thick sounds of trying to clear your voice.

He kisses your pulse, your jaw, your cheek, swallows your mouth, licks out the generous pool of liquid inside. Your hands seek his silk hair clumsily, grabbing his ears and his cheeks, and he presses you back into the cupboard, the wood carvings denting your back.

Your thighs twitch to shut when his knuckles dig into the fat of your bloated cunt and find your pleasure, but he’s got his other hand holding the meat of your left one and his broad frame stands imposingly between your legs.

He swallows, greedily, the noises you make as he focuses on your clit. Fast learner that he is, he picks up the rhythm and the pressure and even finds the spot that you like the most.

This man is dangerous, not just because you watched him kill 10 men with his bare hands, not just because he knows how to get you off from just reading your reactions, but also because you can’t think or breathe anything except for him and not just when he’s crowding you like he is right now.

You push back into him but he is solid force and maybe you can get him to budge a centimeter before he realizes what you’re doing and takes leader back again. No, he can’t take it back because he never lost it.

“Look at me,” he says, and your eyes snap to his, coffee brown and heady. His mouth is pink and wet, slightly parted, and you can’t tell if he’s blinking or not while he watches every twitch and change in your expression. He keeps his thumb steady on your clit after he pushes down to grab some cum and slather it generously and presses a finger into your cunt to rub your g spot.

You hang onto his shoulders, sweaty palms slipping off of the fabric and down to his elbows. He chases your pleasure up the mountain, never stumbling, closer every second, and you have no hope of escaping him while he’s in pursuit so you freeze and let him catch up, heart thrumming with the beat of anticipation while he gets closer.

“Oh fuck,” you hiss, your voice catching on a high note and singing quietly for the conductor while your body tenses and spasms.

His arms catch and hold you through your trembling defeat, and your eyes are closed when he slips his hand out of your underwear and places it up on your cheek, the smell of your own cum heavy and damp. He rubs your lips with the thumb that just had your clit, and you open for him and suck just the tip in your mouth, licking the rough, slimy pad of it and trying, bravely, to look into his eyes.

Bravery comes with the price of a blush so hot it burns your already fiery skin.

“So you liked the spaghetti?” You ask him, your throat and goofy grin sharp.

He does something that reminds you of a laugh, chest and stomach rumbling. He is already smiling but it gets bigger and infects your mouth, too, making you grin wider.

“It was delicious,” he concedes, opening your mouth up with his thumb on your bottom lip. He looks from your eyes to your mouth, kisses you softly.

“I-“ you start when he stops -“what are we doing?”

He tickles your temple with his fingers, musses the baby hairs. “Kissing,” he says, his face full of teasing adoration.

It confuses your brain but your chest must know just what that look means because an invasive hole opens up in it and aches for him. Your eyes get wet. He wipes them off with both thumbs then cradles your face.

“Shhh, honey,” he tells you. “I know.” He comforts you but his expression turns hard again, unreadable.

Tiny tears drip onto his wrists and run down his forearms while you cry. He lets you ride it out, the consuming want for him that overtakes everything you are and shatters it, leaving only him, left whole and unharmed among the sharp pieces.

John revels in the silent shower of salt water from your eyes, cock hardening painfully at the knowledge that this display is all for him. He kisses your cheeks to taste your tears, because feeling and seeing and hearing is not enough.

You try to push him away but he catches your hands and places them on your sides, holds them there. You don’t know why you try to squirm, it gets you nowhere except more immobilized and trapped, bullied into a corner.

You can scream and cry and thrash, fight this man until all that’s left of you is blood and bone. You can run, hide, avoid, dodge, beg for mercy or try and find a breath of hope in the constricting bag placed over your head and smothering you that is John. None of that would be useful. Because your heart beats strong and fast and is much braver than you, and he is what it wants.

“Please,” you ask, not knowing what you’re begging for.

He complies with demanding palms pulling your hips forward. Your hands are on his chest, still unable to grasp and slipping on the silk of his white shirt. He makes a noise with his tongue against his teeth while he bunches your dress up off your thighs. Your upper back grinds painfully against the cabinets while he handles you into the angle that he prefers.

The sound of distress from you commands his attention. He looks from your hips to your face, understands, puts his arm around your upper back and hooks his other hand under your knee. He pulls and guides, grip assuring that there’s nothing you can or have to do to assist him. Maybe that’s the another thing, when you’re with him all you need to focus on is heat and want and pleasure because he handles the rest; like the standing and the keeping upright and the motion of both your bodies. You can touch and taste and feel at leisure, the thought of where your feet are planted unimportant and irrelevant.

Your upper body is on the counter while he holds your lower. The bulge of his cock presses against your underwear and suddenly you remember how big he is. You squirm, pupils dilate, breath quickens, fear feels like fire. Your brain is sending signals to pull your body away from the heat.

He stills you, not with force this time but with his timbre voice, his soothing pet on your tummy. “It’s okay, honey,” he tells you, holds you up with his hips while his hands cradle and caress. Thumbs work delicately over the fabric of your dress where your nipples are protruding.

“Look at you, beautiful,” he hums, “fucking irresistible, how can I help myself?” Holds your neck and palms your breast with a half open hand.

“ty zdes' v bezopasnosti, malyshka, v bezopasnosti ot vsekh, krome menya.”

He wets his lips, gently tilts your head so your tear-peppered eyes look at his face.

“ty nebesnyy, moy angel, sent from god, hm?” He flicks his chin up to emphasize his words.

His cock twitches, complaining, angry, needing to feel, reacting violently to your wide, wet, dilated eyes, the way your face can hide no emotion. Fear melting into lust, lips parting. He ignores the ache, body completely still except for his hands which mimic a softness that they’re not quite capable of.

He douses the flame of fear with the wet emotion and arousal of your body.

You are grinding against him before you notice the motion of your hips, friction minimal even with 3 layers of clothing in the way because of how soaked you are.

“There we go,” he praises, releasing your face in favor of leaving a trail of goosebumps down your neck, across your collar, between your breasts. You giggle when he gets to your tummy, too ticklish there for his touch now that he’s got your dress hiked up under your breasts and that you’re mostly bare.

A grin flashes on his face. You look away, blushing.

“Did I tell you to look away?” He muses, pushing his thumb into your panties and past your slippery lips to rest on your clit.

“Sorry,” you say, looking back into his eyes, burning with embarrassment and need.

You grind against his hand, heavy rapture spreading into you from the touch.

He chuckles, presses hard, to the side, the pad of his thumb rough and scratchy on delicate nerves but still good.

“You’re gonna cum again,” he assures, helping you rub yourself off by adjusting the position of his hand every so often. He switches his thumb for three fingers and broader pressure. You whine from the millisecond of lost contact.

“Which feels better?” He asks. He switches again, focused circles of the thumb, or dispersed pressure of multiple digits.

“That one,” you say when he uses many instead of one. An afterthought tells you that you’re giving him more ammunition to ruin you, but you don’t have time to think for long. Not when he’s assisting another slow orgasm. This one is long and heavy, sweat drips down your thighs and your toes curl and expand. Tension floods from you into his palm, staining your underwear and his nice pants.

He lays a heavy hand on your pubic mound while you twitch down from the high. The low is where your bones turn to rubber and you feel like an inflatable Christmas decoration in strong wind.

You are relaxed but aware, now, of your lower back digging into the jagged lip of the counter, the hard surface on the back of your soft head. It’s uncomfortable.

“Sorry but can we move to somewhere more comfortable?” You ask.

He holds out his hand and you take it, allowing him to help you sit up on the counter. Your dress pools back around your hips.

“Hold on to me,” he says, hands under your knees, pulling your legs around his hips.

It takes you a minute to realize that he wants to carry you, long arms wrap around your thighs and support your weight

“John, I am heavy,” you try and protest, but he’s already picking you up, boosting your body so that you can wrap your arms around his neck. He laughs at your warning while carrying you to the couch like you weigh nothing.

His lips quell your worry with a kiss, and while he presses into your mouth with his tongue you realize that you can’t remember a time when someone has picked you up and carried you.

It’s that, too, then.

He deposits you into the bouncy cushion, pushes your hair out of your face and your dress up over it. You lift your arms to assist in taking it off, and when he pulls it from your wrists, the fabric bunched in his fist, he looks at it for a moment, smirks. Looks back at you as if he’s just realized something.

“This is for me,” he affirms, sounding amused.

You bite the inside of your lip and nod, unable to look into his eyes. Instead, you look to the food and wine on the dining table. “It all was.”

“Oh.” His face drops back to blunt, dark, heavy, all eyes for you now, dress slipping out of his fingers, forgotten, onto the floor.

He sits beside you and wastes no time, tits in his hands and mouth open for your own. He presses and folds you into the position he prefers.

“Let me fuck you, sweet girl.” He sucks below your chin and rolls your nipple into a pinch.

Your head and hips perform the same nodding motion and he pulls away to unbutton his shirt, acknowledging your consent. The shiny scars littered over every inch of his skin takes you by surprise again - you reach out and feel them, his heart, the thick muscle of his chest, the lean meat of his stomach. Your arousal ebbs and flows, the occasional harsh clench of your pussy melting into soft, easy pulsing. You try and memorize the dark trail of hair from his belly button to the seam of his pants.

He tosses his shirt onto your dress and starts on the buttons and buckle of his slacks. You could take your underwear off but you’re much too enraptured by his lithe body, your lips and tongue reddening his skin, your plump fingers so soft and light they tickle him.

Hard, lean, big man presses against small, soft, chubby girl. Cock head forces your lips wide as it runs through the slippery mess he’s made of them. Your clit is sensitive but it still loves the feeling of him sliding against it. Your mouth laves at his chest and collar, rough and clumsy. You bite him, earning a grunt, then feeling bad about it. It’s all too much, though, and the emotion leaks out of your mouth onto his skin, nibbling, licking, sucking, desperate.

He kisses your sweat-dampened hair stuck to your temples, murmuring your name, and presses against the entrance of your cunt.

It’s strange, how you feel empty and gaping and ready before he is pressing in and making you feel tight and unyielding and unprepared.

Pleasure at the price of pain. Your legs lifted up to rest across his body vertically. He kisses your heal and pushes his cock into you by centimeters, one hand on the base of it to help ease in. The angle opens you up a bit, but the way he stretches you still hurts, and now your mouth is empty of him so your teeth gnash at the air.

“Rub your nipples for me,” he tells you. Your hands scramble onto your breasts, grateful for the suggestion, pinching and grabbing roughly, displacing some of the pain from your pussy.

He rubs rough, broad circles into your calves, ignoring the prominent beast inside of him who wants to pound into you without a care for how you take it. He knows that rough and uncaring, though, comes with a price of tearing your insides and possible infection, and that would be fine if he only planned to fuck you once.

“tugoy, how do you feel?” There is concern in his voice and you wish there wasn’t, because it turns your heart rabid.

“Full.” It’s what you can manage to groan while he sinks deeper, your cunt betraying itself, sucking him in. So fucking full and stretched.

He hums. “Good or bad?”

“Both.”

He stops the inching of his pelvis in favor of focusing on your right foot, licking under your toes and holding your ankle because you’re giggling and trying to scrunch up so he can’t get to the sensitive skin. It tickles but also makes your clit throb. Broad licks makes lightning shoot in your lower belly. He wraps his mouth around your big toe and sucks and you are the one moving, now, pressing your ass down into his thighs to urge his cock deeper.

“Oh fuck,” you say, grinding down on him, desperate to have him put pressure on and quell the feeling of tiny shocks deep inside you from the feeling of his mouth on your sensitive feet.

Yes, give him more ammunition to use on you. Let him know just how to make you desperate and feral. Something speaks sense at the very back of your thoughts, and he doesn’t allow that rational voice to linger for long.

He switches when you’re getting too comfortable with one foot, abruptly swallowing and licking the other. You laugh and moan and squeal, wriggling down onto his cock so that he’s bent against your cervix. Heavy pain settles in your lower belly, your giggles turning into strangled groans.

He stalls, stiffens. You look at his face and feel terrible for the pain you see there. His cock spasms inside of you, begging to move, pleading for friction. He sucks his teeth, wins control over basic instinct and doesn’t move a single muscle while you adjust to the massive intrusion.

“I’m going to move,” he tells you, and you nod, eager to please.

The wet, slow suck of your bodies mashed together flows into loud squelching. He rumbles baritone while you keen soprano.

The fat of your cunt gives for the thrust of his stony pelvis, and his fingers trap your clit again.

You try and fail not to wail on your third orgasm. It increases your sensitivity and makes your g spot swell up. His cock slips against it, faster. The spasms entrap him in sensation and help build his orgasm. He stops rubbing your clit and just gives it pressure, looks at your face to see your eyes closed.

“No, eyes on mine,” he says, flicking a nail over the hood of your ultra sensitive clitoris.

Your mouth growls protest, tiny abused bud shrinking back from his mean fingers, but your eyes open and you stare at him as best as you can while you feel like you’re about to explode and scream from all the feelings inside of you.

He wants to hear what you hold back, so he fucks harder and faster and wins the prize of your loud expletives, his name, the dig of your heals into his collar. Your own hands tear at your breasts and you do scream for him, much to your own dismay. To you, it is anything but an attractive sound. His jaw ticks, eyes slice heavy with pride. He obviously has a different opinion. “There we go,” he praises.

His hand aches to grab your pretty throat, so he does, and you’re not small there but his hand is large enough to wrap around the giving skin and press down on the sides. You grab his wrist, the instinct to live guiding the motion of your hand. Your eyes cloud with stinging water as you struggle for full breaths under his heavy hold.

If he feels bad for you, it does not show in his face; in fact, his expression is quite the opposite of empathetic as he abuses your guts and steals your air.

You aren’t keeping track of time, how could you possibly, but it seems both too soon and too late that his hips falter and slow and he buries warm, plentiful fluid deep inside your cunt. He kisses your heal again, and you notice him in the afterglow; sweat shimmers on his forehead and chest, the drowning and drooping gaze of his black eyes, the satiated relaxing of his mouth. He looks beautiful like this, worn and satisfied and tucking his cum up into you, refusing to let it spill just yet.

His hand relaxes from your neck to your cheek, smoothing out the fluid from your eyes into your burning skin. He shakes his head when he notices that you’re trying not to cry so, so hard. “No, no fighting it,” he scolds, “give me what’s mine.”

You obey, easily sliding into a small, fragile, sobbing and whimpering human for him.

“Tchk.” It’s a praise from him to you for being so brave, so good for him. His cock eases out of you, but his cum floods from the hole he leaves open. It soaks your thighs and the couch and instantly cools your overworked flesh, but the loss of him is too much, and you grab for him, pulling him down, his mouth to yours.

He allows your forceful handling but does not assist with any part of it except for the kiss. His mouth is lazier, now, kinder. You push your thighs together to relieve some feeling of the void at the center and push his soft hair off his face because it tickles your cheeks and neck.

You fill the desperate hole inside yourself with the crushing weight of John against you, and cry into the fine hair on his chest. He flips you both sideways so that you can breathe easier with his full weight off your lungs.

He holds your hip while his fingers skim down and up your spine and lets you press your body into his as hard as you can and want to.

It’s this, this overwhelming feeling to sink into his body, to slice him open and climb into him and steal his warmth to keep warm in the freezing snowstorm that is your life.

It takes a while to stop sobbing, but you do eventually. Your mind steps gingerly from murky, predator filled swamp into clear spring water. The clarity allows you to focus on why all you’ve been capable of is tears for the past however many hours it’s been, and it’s not hard to realize that its because you’re in love with him.

And that’s the final effect of all the tallied John-related reasons that you’ve been counting and scoring in your mind. The nail in the coffin, for lack of better reference.

You know he doesn’t feel the same way, not because of the way he gently untangles you from around him and stands up, not because he’s putting his clothes back on and smoothing his tie, not because of the chaste kiss goodbye on your forehead before he ties his shoes, not because of the lack of words he says to you as he walks out your door, not because he leaves you lying there, numb and cold and naked. No. Not because of any of that. He can’t feel the same way because it’s you, and you are not someone that people feel that way about. And that’s okay, as long as you never have to see him or think about him again.

At this rate, though, it’s becoming a problem liken to that of your own personal forest fire, and you’re not sure what you’re going to do once everything stops burning and turns to ash.

[teejaywyatt1]

Chapters: 45/? Fandom: John Wick (Movies) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: John Wick & Original Female Character(s) of Color, John Wick/You, John Wick/Reader Characters: John Wick, Winston (John Wick), Original Female Character(s) of Color, Viggo Tarasov, Santino D'Antonio, Bowery King (John Wick), The Adjudicator (John Wick), Marcus (John Wick), Ms. Perkins (John Wick), The High Table (John Wick) - Character, Continental Hotel Doctor (John Wick), Iosef Tarasov, Helen Wick, Aurelio (John Wick), Charon (John Wick), Zero (John Wick), Marquis Vincent Bisset de Gramont, Caine (John Wick), Katia, Ruska Roma - Character, Killa Harkan Additional Tags: Violence, Reader-Insert, Assassins & Hitmen, Murder, Sex, Smut, Oral Sex, Hand Jobs, This is nasty NASTY, John doesn’t play about his girl Series: Part 3 of Skyline Series Summary:

Your simple world is turned outside down when you become the object of affection for the World's Deadliest Assassin after crossing paths.