#john wick fic

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 31 all chapters

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

 Maybe it’s silly, but you feel as though you have a new lease on life, in the days that follow.

John is still undeniably clingy, but so very sweet. It is a much easier form of obsession to bear.

You are still a prisoner, but at least you feel loved.

Perhaps even more precious, you begin to feel safe.

Whatever possessive madness gripped him before seems to have receded for now, and maybe you’re a fool, but you dare hope in time he might make a full recovery.

Now that you’ve reached a sort of understanding, John seems bent on making up for lost time. There is no doubt that you are still his prey, but now he ambushes you with the express intention of making you cum—whether you like it or not.

Again, you find yourself begging him for reprieve, though this time through laughter rather than tears. He swallows your protests with devouring kisses, eating your cries whole as he slides his long fingers inside you and works your clit masterfully with his thumb.

When you complain of your difficulty sitting down, a gift of a hemorrhoids donut pillow appears. You think he meant it as a joke.

John likes to give gifts, you find.

When one day you walk into your studio to find a bejeweled set of headphones bedecked like a crown, you cannot help but grin like an idiot. It is ridiculous what those fucking things cost, and you’d thought you’d been clever about concealing your enchantment with them in Italy, but nothing escapes John Wick’s sharp eye.

When he finds you later wearing your new coronet, singing out of tune while you put paint down on canvas, he presses you into the worktable with his hips and his kisses, going down on his knees before you with a murmur of, “My beautiful queen.” His words make your knees weak, as does his insatiable tongue in your slit. It’s all so much, and when you beg him to take you there on the table he is all too happy to oblige, scattering your pastels in a rainbow of projectiles with a sweep of his arm before driving himself inside you. With legs wrapped around his waist in a desperate effort to hold on, you take the fury of his adoration with a cock-drunk smile.

If you learned anything in the darker times before, it is that this man is a predator to the bone, and no matter what his mood, he loves a good chase. It becomes your favorite game, and it starts one evening when you splash him while doing the dishes. The look of surprise on his face is priceless, and with a screech you run for the stairs.

You only get so far as the living room before he catches you, his arm like a band of iron around your waist hauling you from your feet entirely. It happens too fast to register, but by some form of ninja magic you are suddenly on the floor, the lean length of his body on top of you. On the plush oriental rug with his thick cock inside you, this man makes you see God. 

It feels alarmingly, magnificently, terrifyingly, like truly making love.

“Has anyone ever loved you, the way I do?” he demands desperately, filling you impossibly to the brim.  

“Never,” you barely manage to answer, the force of his thrust stealing your breath away. 

The next question is much more vulnerable. 

“Have you ever loved anyone, the way you love me?”

“Never.”

It’s true, and in the softening of his gaze you dare to hope that someday he will believe you enough.

It is surprising, how quickly the time passes. Despite the circumstances, it is not terribly hard to live with John Wick, like this. He is sweet, and loving, and he spoils you rotten. You could almost mistake your relationship for normal—if one didn’t look too hard at the locks on all the doors. 

Soon summer is fading, giving way to the golden hours of early fall. You see it out the window, but since your little car ride, you still have not been allowed outside. You’re an outdoorsy girl, and frankly, it’s starting to drive you a little crazy. You find yourself clawing at the impenetrable windows with a sigh.

John’s mood has been steady, but your heart is still in your throat when you dare ask, “John, can we go out?”

He looks up from his book, the fall of his dark hair covering half his face as he cants his head in thought. They say familiarity breeds contempt, but even after all this close proximity, you still find him beautiful. You do not think that will ever change.

“Why?” he finally asks, and you detect the shadow of suspicion in his tone.  

“Because I miss it.”

You used to hike every day off you had. Being indoors this long…is doing things to your brain.

You watch as his nostrils flare, his chest rising and falling as he considers this request. You can tell he doesn’t like the thought at all, but you force yourself to stand your ground. He won’t punish you for this, surely? Just for asking?

Of course, he might punish you for what you’ll do later, if the answer is no.

In the end he nods, though more to himself than to you. “I’ll think about it.”

“Think about it fast? The weather will be turning soon.”

The look he pays you then is less kind, his eyes sharp as glittering obsidian. “I said. I’ll think about it.”

You sigh, assuming the answer is no, and retreat to sulk in your studio. You are painting the view from your favorite outlook on the mountain trail nearby from memory when you start to hear an odd, rhythmic toque…toque sound, over and over.

You go downstairs, searching for the source. No dice in the living room or the kitchen. You follow your ears to the bank of windows off the living room. There’s another door (locked, of course) that leads to a patio. You see John outside…chopping wood? Watching the pine rounds explode under the sharp blade of an axe in his hands shouldn’t be this fascinating, but you find yourself pressed to the window, transfixed. The definition in the muscles of his forearms as he swings down are a sight to behold.

You’re not sure he can see you, the way the glass is mirrored on the outside, but you knock on the widow anyway. He looks up at you with narrowed eyes at first. Then, a small smile. It feels like a little gift, just for you, and it quickens your heart. Watching him do everyday things moves you, and you acknowledge to yourself uneasily for the umpteenth time that you’re in so deep.

As it turns out, the wood was for a little pit fire, which you sit together and watch with a glass of wine that evening out on the patio. The tall trees loom all around you, pitch black outside the ring of your little campfire. It feels so good to be out of the house, but it’s not quite what you wanted. As though he senses that you’re not exactly satisfied with his offering, John tries to distract you with his kisses, laying you down on the outdoor couch to wreck you with his mouth. You make love with your skin bared to the great outdoors, but no one to really see you in your seclusion. Later you snuggle under a soft blanket together.

Sated, you let it go, for now.  

-But John doesn’t forget, and one morning he wakes you early with kisses on your ear. “If you want to hike, we have to go now,” he tells you. You have become spoiled in your captivity, no longer at the mercy of coffee house hours, now used to sleeping through the morning after John keeps you up late with his kisses and his beautiful cock, but the offer of getting to really go outdoors has you up and at ‘em in minutes.

You find your old pair of broken-in Merrel hikers in the walk-in closet, and realize John must have accessed your possessions from your previous life at some point. It’s so strange to see them—you realize in the suspended reality of your current situation, you’ve almost written off everything that came before.

There is a distinct mental separation in your personal timeline—BW, and AW; Before Wick, and After Wick.

You have a quick breakfast and coffee before stepping outside, the sun just peeking over the horizon.

You can hardly describe the elation you feel, at last being allowed to walk out that front door like you are almost normal. You are so happy just to feel the morning air on your skin. You stand in the driveway like a simpleton, your face lifted to the sky, soaking in the sun. There is a cool breeze that smells of pine, and it is the sweetest thing you have inhaled in a long time.

John watches your reaction intensely, and you do not think you invent it, when you see a glimmer of guilt in his expressive mocha eyes. Intent on assuring him, you stand on tiptoe, pressing a kiss to his bearded chin with your front flush to his.

“Thank you,” you say, and he relaxes slightly against you, resting his forehead against yours.

You are practically skipping as you hit the trail in his woods that connects to the bigger loop. You cannot help but think about that day in the snow, when you met him, alone, on that very path. How easily he could have had you then. It is another clue that tells you he hadn’t decided yet—or he had not yet cracked.

This early, in the middle of the week, it isn’t likely you’ll meet anyone in the woods. You feel a trill of nervousness, as you wonder what would happen if you did. You have been kept to yourself for so long, the thought of contact with other people out in the world feels strange, a little frightening, even.

As you walk an exuberance overtakes you, fills you head to toe. It almost feels like you’re…free. The only contradiction to that is the tall man in black walking by your side. He has let you have free reign, not insisting on holding on to you. He doesn’t have to, you know. He could just run you down with those delectably long legs of his any time he wanted, surely.

That doesn’t mean the thought of it isn’t titillating, even if you absolutely know you would be destined to lose. Perhaps he truly has broken you at last, but you have come to love the game of chase too. It is your most exciting distraction in your world that is limited to the confines of the Wick cabin.

You are going to be sore the next day, you know. It’s been…forever, since you’ve been able to walk like this. The most exercise you’ve really gotten has been engaging in your sexcapades with John—as much of a workout as that is—it’s a different group of muscles.

Perhaps he does not insist on holding you, but it doesn’t stop you from reaching for him. You squeeze John’s hand in thank you.

Despite everything…it feels like a perfect day.

“Maybe this is far enough for today,” he says as you approach the junction with the main trail, the line of his private property and the park that adjoins it.

Disappointment spears through you. You are not ready to go back into your prison. It’s turning into a beautiful day, and you have so much energy to burn.

You make a pouty face, playing cute while you are flirting with rebellion inside.

“But the overlook is so pretty this time of year,” you insist, batting your lashes. Lately, that’s been enough to get your way on little things in the house. Today you feel like you can’t lose. Everything is too good.

He narrows his eyes down at you, as though he senses your internal mutiny, but in all your elation you feel strangely impervious. You realize you feel high, the kind of mood lift usually people have to ingest pills to get.  

“Y/n…” He reaches for you, and without thinking you step just out of reach. You’ve played this game a dozen times now in the house. A game you’ve never, to this day, won, but you’ve found it’s the thrill of a lifetime, to be chased down by this man, trusting he won’t really hurt you. It always leads to mind-blowing sex, and maybe you are thinking a bit too much with a lust-addled brain alongside your elation for the great outdoors.

There is a very pregnant moment between you, and you smile when his intense eyes meet yours, your lips curling in what you know is a shit-eating little grin. What happens next is pure reflex; an extension of a thing you’ve done repeatedly together, with a dash of that age-old ingrained instinct of prey in the presence of a predator. But now you’re outside, and your jubilation is magnified times a hundred.

You run.

“Y/n!”

He lunges for you, his fingertips just brushing your arm, but in the end he’s–amazingly–too slow.

You are a human missile, rocketing down the hill, fueled by gravity and the knowledge of how to move in this environment you’ve trained for since you were just a child. You may as well be a wood sprite, for this is your element. This is your mountain, and no matter how many wealthy interlopers buy it up and carve it into parcels and drive up the price of everything so that locals like you can barely live—this will always be your home.

It feels so good to run.

Your feet fly over the needle-strewn forest floor, jumping over rocks and dodging trees. You laugh like a madwoman, the sweet sweet mountain air filling your lungs. You run like a wild thing of the woods, the way you used to when you were a child, before your parents decided to break the oath they'd made to each other and split your happy world to pieces. While your parents fought you would flee to the trees to be free, and you feel that desperate euphoria again. That feeling like you can fly, jumping over rocks and launching from boulders.

You sense more than hear John behind you, your own ears filled with the rushing of your blood and your racing heartbeat. His fingertips brush your back before you juke him around a tree. You hear him curse and you laugh—you do sound mad.

“Have to do better than that, old man!” you crow. 

You realize with another rush that you are far more agile than John is. The trees are your friend, the way you dart around them and power yourself down a new line of retreat. You hear him curse after grazing one, and you realize you might break the poor man’s neck, making him pursue you like this. 

In a pine-needle carpeted clearing you make yourself slow down, and you are so high on adrenaline it doesn’t even hurt when he finally tackles you to the ground, your grin like a baring of teeth, giddy from the chase. He pins your hands above your head, sharp pebbles digging into your skin as you laugh.

“What the fuck—” You interrupt him mid tirade with your mouth on his, a hungry kiss that swallows his fury, but does not quench it. Already anticipating the passion of your (and his) reward with his delicious weight pressed down into you, your legs are wrapped around his waist, pulling him close.

“You think you’re cute?” he snarls above you when at last you separate.

“I am very cute,” you assert, still giggling to yourself. “Don’t be mad. You love this game.”,

“Maybe I’d love to spank that cute ass of yours raw?”

“Nuh-uh. No hitting.”

You’d made a deal, after all.

He narrows his eyes down at you, and this is when you finally start to sense that maybe he is not half as amused as you are. Your blood runs cold, and before you can blink he has you flipped over on your belly, your pants down around your thighs.

“No—”

You try to squirm away, but his inexorable hand is in your hair—it makes for a damn good handle, the bastard. His big hand digging into the globe of your ass makes you quiver under his fingers. 

Your heart plummets into freefall, as you realize he’s serious. And you can tell he’s not talking about the playful little smacks he sometimes gifts you in the middle of riding his cock to completion. He means to punish you, and the knowledge takes you from the highest high to the blackest despair. You can barely hear past the sound of your heartbeat in your ears, the familiar fear and uncertainty from before creeping in. Not again. Life was so good. Please don’t go back to this shit again. You can’t go back to the way things were. You can’t live like that again. 

A revelation settles over you with irrefutable clarity. You accept it as truth with every cell of your being, and you know there will be no going back after this. 

“If you hit me we’re done.”

There’s no hint of playfulness in your tone either now. Just…resolve. You mean what you say, to the very marrow of your bones.

“I think I must have confused you, y/n. You are not in charge here.”

“Maybe not. But I’ll tell you this. If you hit me, I’ll fight you to my dying breath. I mean it.”

Like watching yourself from the outside, you almost find it interesting that this is the true limit of your generosity with him. This is the cliff’s edge. The point of no return. Your resolve is unmoving, even if it fills you with absolute misery. You could lose him now, today, this very minute. This man who keeps you prisoner, yet with whom you have lived happily the past months. This complicated, broken man, who you love with all your heart. 

In this insane moment you realize with soul-shaking clarity…you don’t want to leave him. What would you do with your life? Go back to your stupid little existence at the coffee shop, working your fingers to the bone, doodling on the chalkboard, waiting? You’ve spent most of your life just fucking waiting. Waiting to travel. Waiting for something good to happen. Waiting…for this man to come through the door, so you could pester him for five minutes, knowing it would be the highlight of your day.

Could you possibly go back to looking up at the mountain, knowing your Beast in his castle resides there? That a man who loved you like no other is there pining for you?

But if he crosses this line—you will have to leave, somehow. Or die trying. That is your heartfelt resolution. That is the promise you make to yourself. You’ve made too many compromises as of late, and this is a battle for your very soul. 

You feel him like a malevolent storm cloud behind you, trembling in his fury, but for once, torn as to what to do. You realize this is the only time you’ve seen him doubt himself, when he’s contemplating teaching you a lesson. 

You dare to try to talk him down, your voice calmer, or perhaps more distant. You don’t know how you muster the courage; perhaps only in the knowledge that this could truly be it for the two of you. No more we’ll see how it goes or maybe it will be better tomorrow. There is only now.

“This thing we’ve somehow built together, despite everything…” You shake your head, trembling as much out of fear as despair. “It will be destroyed, and you’re the one who will have broken it.”

“You’re the one who ran from me!”

You can tell from the hushed fury in his voice that he is hanging on by a thread. You realize now, what a stupid thing that had been to do. That despite the games you’ve been playing in the house, out here, he just couldn’t handle it. Even just the slightest possibility of you leaving is enough to drive this man off the edge.  

“I let you catch me.” You will him to believe you. You even half believe it yourself.

“The hell you did.”

“It’s true. I know these woods better than you. I’m smaller. I’m faster. I let you.”

“Bullshit.”

Before you can hardly think about what to do you lower your face to the dirt, offering your ass in the air. You know he can see your puffy slit, your glistening opening just begging for him. This is how he has warped you; or maybe you were a twisted little thing all along, just waiting for him to show you the way to your ruin. Either way—you want him, and you will him to see it for himself.

“I let you catch me,” you insist again. “So give me my reward.”

You feel the tremor run through him, from his fingertips to his core.

You realize that he wants to believe you. That maybe punishing you was never really the fun for him at all, in this deadly game you’ve been playing.

You feel him shift his position behind you, his merciless hold moving to your hip. When his long fingers slide into your wet folds you mewl like a cat; half relieved, and half just needing him. He makes you buck by circling your bud, before delving inside your weeping channel with two of his fingers. It makes you moan, and if someone walks up the trail my god will they get an eyeful, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Does that feel like someone who’s afraid of you?” you bluff. Because wanting this man has never really stopped you from fearing him. Fearing what, exactly, has shifted over time. In the end though, maybe just that he would be the absolute ruin of you.

He only grunts in answer, spreading your juices around your aching pussy. When his fingers withdraw you whine in protest, but you hear him rifle with his clothing, the zzzip of his fly jerked downwards. When his thick tip kisses your entrance you could weep, offering your ass even higher in the air.

“You are a very bad girl,” he tells you as he slides home, making you writhe with a mixture of pleasure and pain. 

“I’m your bad girl,” you correct him, and he growls behind you, thrusting again. He’s not treating you with the usual care he pays this position, but you take it anyway. Gladly, if this will mend the thing between you, you’ll take it all.

“I would have found you, you know,” he pants as he thrusts, his hand weaving in your hair. “Even if you made it down the mountain…there’s nowhere in the world you can hide from me.”

You absolutely believe him.

“I know,” you tell him, your face in the dirt, yet somehow still loving the feeling of him behind you, filling you absolutely and completely. “You don’t–have to–lock me up, John,” you pant, interrupted by the violence of his thrusts. “Because I know I can’t escape you.”

This makes him growl again, that primal, possessive sound that touches the darkest recesses of your cavewoman brain. It is as though there is no part of you, inside or out, that this man cannot touch. He drapes his long body over yours, engulfing you in the shelter of his warmth. Even now, you cannot stop yourself from leaning back into him, pressing your smooth cheek to his soft beard. His tone is pure gravel, but you know him well enough now to sense the vulnerability in his words too. “But do you want to escape now?” he asks.

“No,” you tell him, and you know in your heart this isn’t manipulation, or vying for a better chance to run somewhere down the line. It’s just the truth, and you even surprise yourself as you say, “No, I don’t want to leave you.”  

He goes still behind you as he evaluates this heartfelt confession, his harsh breathing and the pulsing of his cock buried inside you his only movement. 

“I want to believe you.” You only enjoy a moment of relief, before he rears again behind you, driving himself into you to the hilt. “But I can’t.”

Your heart plummets as you realize he still cannot bring himself to trust your word, to have the faith to walk out into thin air, the way normal people do when they dare to fall in love. He cannot leave anything to chance with you, and now you are not sure he ever will.  

He really might keep you locked up forever. 

You feel the earth beneath you, hyper aware of the pine needles in your clenched hands, the wonderful smell of the dirt and ancient rocks below. The cool breeze on your bared skin, and the dappled light filtering through the pines. What if this really is the last time you are ever allowed outside? 

There was always a glimmer of hope on the distant horizon for you, that little light of optimism that never quite managed to extinguish, despite everything he put you through. But now you feel it leave you, stealing the integrity from your very bones. You go limp beneath him, only his iron-grip on your hips holding your ass in the air as he uses you. When he reaches down to find your slippery bud you are no longer in the mood, and perhaps foolishly, you try to shake him off. 

“Just get it over with.” 

You already know it’s the absolute worst thing you can say, but now you don’t care. 

“But I thought my darling wanted to enjoy the great outdoors?” He doesn’t sound half as angry as you expected him to, but there is still something sharp in his tone that puts you on edge. Like glimpsing a dorsal fin parting still waters, you know something dangerous swims underneath. 

He slows his thrusts behind you, so that his magnificent length stretches you just right without hurting you. He uses his now expert knowledge against you, weaponizing the hours you’ve spent in bed together making up for lost time. You can’t stop yourself from arching into him, canting your hips to intensify the sensation, and now you bow your head so you don’t have to see his smug smile. “Goddamn you.”

He huffs with laughter, though there’s no real humor in it. “You’re too late, I’m sure.”

This time when he touches you, you are desperate for it, your aching walls squeezing him in search of release. It tears a groan from deep in his throat, a sound you know so well by now, and you realize you can use your own knowledge of this man against him too. You squeeze him again, almost in challenge, and it becomes a contest between you, who can bring the other to pieces first. You have to admit that his blunt fingers on your clit are heaven, and your heart pounds too fast in your chest, your head light as you very nearly forget to breathe in your concentration. He tries to hold himself off as you move to take him deeper. He cannot control your body as well as he would like, like this, with his fingers buried in your slit, and you almost smile at his grunt of frustration at you. 

In the end you both lose. 

You cum so hard on his cock you see stars, a ringing in your ears as a merciless pleasure breaks and explodes through you. He fares no better, filling you with ropes of hot seed as he moans, loud enough to echo across the mountains. 

Maybe you do feel a little better, panting in the soft leaf litter with his body draped over yours again, his heavy breathing and soft lips upon your neck. As usual, you feel bereft when he withdraws, wishing you could hold him inside you longer. You didn’t bring anything to clean up with, and you anticipate a soggy walk home back up the hill. 

In fact, after sprinting, then fucking like animals on the ground, you’re not even sure you can walk. 

It’s John who rises first, groaning with the effort. He glares down at you, as though daring you to make another old man jab. For the moment, however, you are out of quips, out of jokes, and out of clever repartee. Even though you know it shouldn’t be so easy for him to tame you, you snuggle under his chin anyway, kissing the swell of his Adam’s apple. For a moment he sags against you, savoring this sweetness, before brusquely leading you back up the trail.  

He is not cruel, or strangely, even outwardly angry now, but somehow you just know you are in so much fucking trouble.

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick fic #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves x reader #yandere john wick #bittersweet john wick imagine

[nouearth]

a business trip.

john wick x male reader.

warnings: smut, alcohol, blowjob (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), dirty talk, rough!sex, breeding, unprotected!sex, top!johnwick, bottom!reader.

request.

the soft tune of jazz—a sonata that you were never particularly fond of—became comforting in your solitude. though a piano was absent, hidden stereos were more than adequate as you gathered the ambiance would’ve been more or less the same if a pianist had performed. 

in the sleepy hours of the continental hotel, patrons of the lounge kept their conversations low, indescribable murmurs to your ears as you sipped on your drink—warm and smooth down your throat. 

the time on your phone flicked to midnight, and day two commenced. you came on a business trip. if you could, you would’ve rejected the offer to come to new york, especially when it took away time from your dog. but the rascal was spoiled, and that unfortunately meant you had to step out of your home office once in a while—all to keep her spoiled. 

but who ever said you couldn’t have a little fun during your trip?

the seats at the bar were unoccupied except for yours. clients preferred sitting in something that supported their back, you presumed, but that didn’t stop a gentleman from taking a seat next to you.

oh, wow. maybe the lady was right… this cologne is a dick magnet.

unbeknownst to you, his favorite seat was occupied and he was petty—though only slight, because a strong drink to incinerate his stress was his main priority. 

“bourbon whiskey,” the gentleman glanced at you, dried blood and cuts lanterned under the muted lights, but his black hair succeeded in shadowing. “please.”

the man didn’t seem phased by the injuries—a nonchalant attitude he maintained—but you were nonetheless surprised. speechless as no one, not even the bartender, seemed to have minded his wounds, the blood stained on his dress shirt, and the purple bruise beating on his cheekbone.

it was… strange.

“uh...” you cleared your throat, directing the sound towards the man to get his attention. he looked, clearly want to be left alone as he kept his gaze front. “sorry, i just… uh… should i be worried about that?”

though he didn’t seem to recognize you, the stranger was hesitant to answer, taking more than a few beats before speaking, low and gritty. “no, just… got robbed.”

“oh, shit, seriously?” you reached for you phone and turned the screen on. ”then, I think we should call-“ before you could take the process to another step, a gentle grasp latched around your wrist, stopping you.

“that’s very kind of you, but i’m fine.” he finally turned to you, a reassuring gaze pierced to your worry before letting go and looking front again.

handsome, even when he’s all beat up. focus, that was not the priority right now.

“dude, you’re bleeding.” remnants of warmth escaped your wrist, but his calloused fingers remained in memory. “you could have a concussion or something.”

“maybe,” the man took a sip of his drink, a simper to his face when it was concluded that you were evidently not from his world. “seemed fine as i walked the way here though.”

“jesus,” you couldn’t pick apart between fact or fiction, especially from a stranger, but he had no reason to lie. you took another sip, watching him and accepting his truth. “did you manage to get a hit on them, at least?”

you missed it, but the man glanced down at the red stain on his dress shirt, small and ruby-ed against the white fabric before taking a sip again. “something like that.”

“hm... i guess i know who to call for a bodyguard when i’m in the city again, then.” the ice between the two of you was slowly melting, puddles of it spreading when you two shared a chuckle. “(m/n), by the way.”

“john.” you can put a name to his face now, and it was fitting. mysterious and aloof, but never intimidating because there was a warmth inside of him that just needed a reason to come out. “never seen you here before, first time?”

“kind of?” by now, the drink has caught up to you and you felt a little more confident, turning your body towards him. “i mean, i’ve been to new york before—just not this hotel. i’m here for work.”

“i see,” when you faced towards him, john never meant to do a double-take. several glances were hidden in between the constant motion of drinking, the heat relieving john’s body whenever he took a sip—he likened it to medicine. “enjoying your stay then?”

but the more john looked at you, warmth began to rise instead. it eventually settled on his chest, neck, and cheeks to his dismay and it does not intent to wear off, no matter how many sips he took in greatest efforts to push it down—in a void somewhere, where he believed his feelings deserved to be buried.

“it could be better.” alcohol was a powerful drug, because you were one-hundred percent sure that the chance of you flirting without a drink would’ve been close to zero.

it came out of nowhere—this feeling. fleeting or not, your pants tightened and you needed a release. if it wasn’t him, then it was going to be someone else. and if you really couldn’t get laid, you’d be content with dry-humping a pillow.

you’ve seen it in the movies before—well, usually from a women—but it should be universally accepted, right? confidence was sexy: show some skin, make your intentions clear, and handle rejection like a real class act. 

worst he could do is say no…

“I don’t mean to be crass, but,” you tugged on your necktie, loosening it around the collar, and unbuttoned only the top two buttons. a slight breeze ghosted your neck as it radiated and yearned for lust—kindled further when you downed another drink, a last stop for encouragement, but also a device to handle rejection all at once. “do you want to fuck?”

john watched you stone-faced, but there was clear interest in his eyes—you watched it spread across his dark orbs. 

it was telling that you both needed something—a release: you with work and him with being mugged, apparently. your fingers tapped on the counter, impatient for an answer. 

after a smooth swig of his drink, john got up and beckoned to you with a small smile. “come on.”

as soon as the door shut, you were backed into it with considerable force—not a single second to spare. you held onto john in blind support, groping at his broad back and hips while john’s needy palms worked at your ass, squeezing tight to aid the erection in his pants.

“fuck.” pressure applied to your clothed bulge as john pressed his hips against you, rutting in irregular rhythms conducted by pure lust, and you desperately returned them, needier as you rubbed into his thigh. your moans caught between his lips when the pair found themselves on you, kissing you with the utmost passion—poisonous, because it stole your breath away. 

“i could come just like this.” you spared enough oxygen to breathe out, but later found it swallowed when john kissed you again, eagerly licking the inside of your mouth. his tongue was sloppy, mixing the sweetness of your drink with the burn of his to form an entirely new recipe that only the two of you would share. 

complete darkness filled your sight while your neck was then bombarded with rough kisses, only broken when john unwillingly tore himself from your skin to strip himself. it was a tedious process because he was greedy, returning back to your neck and lips whenever a piece of clothing was thrown to the corner of the room.

but you were impatient, as was he, and knew things would never progress if he was submitted under the smell and soft touch of your skin. so you playfully pushed him, squeezing his chest in midst, and constantly knocking him back to his amusement while the glow of the moon became your guide to the bed.

“keep that up,” john held you by the waist again, applying his bare body to your clothed figure, half-undressed with your trousers and shirt left, as you felt his beard against your skin. a gentle brush tickled you, but his darkened, low voice sent goosebumps. “and we won’t make it to the bed.”

“hm.” a hum vibrated in your throat while he kissed your neck again, suckled at his favorite area because he could feel your cock throb against him, desperate to be freed from the fabric. 

you watched him in the moonlight as john began undoing your clothes, leaving a wake of hot kisses down your body the more you unveiled before him—cold, but john’s mouth made up for it as it wrapped around you like a warm glove. no warning whatsoever, but you preferred that, shuddering when he worshipped your body like a knight to a prince; calmed caresses to your calves while he polished your cock with godly licks. 

john’s fingers spidered up your legs and his palm found its way to your ass again, spanking one cheek hard enough for you to suddenly thrust your cock into his mouth and down his warm throat. “oh, fuck-“ 

he moaned around you, vibrations riding your thick veins as it would take a electrifying trip up north until you moaned, pleaded with him to be fucked—to no avail, simply because he was stubborn. 

briefly, john let you go with a slimy pop to stroke you, standing back up to kiss you in midst. you tasted yourself, the saltiness of your pre-cum lining your taste-buds as his tongue ran over yours in a wet and sloppy affair. “god, you taste so good…”

simultaneously, your hand worked at his cock, under-handing the weight of it with slow strokes—to the intimate arousal of your sluggish tongues moving with one another. it wouldn’t be long until you found yourself pressing into him again, gliding your wet cock against his, spreading and sharing john’s thick saliva between the two muscles.

your lips never his, neither did your hand on his cock—both of your cocks now, clumsily stroking—even when john began to prod at your hole with his finger, lubed up seconds before, teasing. only then, you pulled away when his finger slid into you with careful ease, and you flushed forward.

he embraced you with one arm around your body, holding you still while he worked you open, curling inside of you deeper with quickening intervals. you could practically come undone from this, but you refrained from doing so, distracting yourself with kisses to john’s chest, then his nipples, sucking hard to counter the overwhelming pleasure.

but he had the upper hand on you, only realizing when you immediately flexed around him when he pushed into you with another finger—slight difficulty, and so he worked you open once again. though, it doesn’t last long because he wanted to feel the tight stretch you’d provide for him—a heavenly need you’d happily supply. 

without any guidance, you bent over the bed and pushed your hips out, and he held you close. you laid there bare before him, looking back completely vulnerable while john toyed with you, taunting your arousal as he slid his cock in between your ass cheeks, wet and sticky from the lube. 

“come on…” you almost whined out into the sheets, refraining yourself from wiggling your hips. 

his silhouette didn’t budge and he only agitated your impatience even further by tracing your pucker with the plump tip of his cock, slow and teasing with a smirk you could hear. “you want me that bad?”

“fuck,” you were never one to admit things easily, and this wasn’t going to be the start of it. equally as stubborn as john was, you groaned into bed again and used your core to push back at his taunts. you began reaching back amid his continuing tease to grab ahold of his length. “if you’re not going to fuck me, then i’m going to-“

john’s reflexes were fast. as soon as you wrapped your hand around him, he pinned you further into the bed with a firm shove to your back. your chest stung when it rubbed harsh against the sheets and you immediately let go, lying pliant under his force. “you’re going to what?”

you struggled to move—to escape from his hold—but he was stronger in every way possible. every struggle was met with an ache to your body as he barely used a fourth of his strength to hold you down.

and your cock couldn’t have gotten harder.

“I’m going to-“ before you could respond, your throat dried up as john pushed himself inside of you with one slow yet rugged thrust, pushing heat back in, and filling your hole up with more. “f-fuck!” every muscle in your body tensed and you shouted out, almost a whimper.

his cock was thick inside of you. you can feel every pulse, every vein as he worked himself into you, back and forth with deep and slow thrusts, painfully stretching you out. it knocked the breath out of you and your legs wobbled, feeling your current stance weakening as your toes curled into the floor, desperately clinging onto the arrival of your soreness.

but you loved it. you loved how barely prepped you were because you can feel every inch of him reaching deep inside and violating your hole with the uttermost disrespect. he held your wrists together, your arms back and your chest pushed forward while your cock rubbed against the bed, and fucked into you—faster, harder. “look at you, fuck. you take cock like it’s nothing, hm?“

“m-mmm!” you whimpered out in response, your breath hitching as he repeatedly slammed his hips into you, continuously knocking any thought out of you. the painful pleasure was dizzying, finding solace in muffling your moans into the covers. your breath warmed your cheeks as you rocked into the bed from impact, gliding your cock in between the bed and your pelvis along. 

there was an ache in your shoulders, in your arms, in your wrists, but john’s cock overpowered every feeling to the point where they became numb. all there was left was john’s rapture and you basked in it. the heaviness of the sex-filled air, the humidity of your bodies when john decided to push his all of his weight onto you and fuck you like you were nothing but a void, the warmth of his breath when he kissed your shoulder and neck, and the sting when he bit.

overwhelming was an understatement of your current state of euphoria. you took him in and overloaded yourself into his pleasure. every thrust, every breath was submerged into you, compelled to mirror even a fraction of the pleasure john felt, and it was only when his cock drove into your prostate with unbeatable force that you did—tenfold.

“oh, fuck! don’t stop,” you cried out, desperate in pushing back against him because you never knew if john would pull away anytime soon. “fuck me just like that, fuck!”

and he doesn’t. john was a man of promise and he delivered your pleas with force and speed, letting go your wrists to spread your cheeks apart and watch you be fucked open with his thick cock, growing more swollen with every passing second. you can feel his balls following his thrusts, swinging against your sweaty skin and creating the most delectable sounds. “like that, yeah? you like my cock, just like that?”

“f-fuck, yes!”

in this moment, you were his, under his control, and selfishly captured when john devastated your prostate with one more powerful thrust to your demands, and you found the stars. they resided in the back of your eyelids as you came—thick and heavy—in between the sheets and your twitching body. 

it wouldn’t be long until john joined you in your trip to heaven, his grasp on your hips hard and bruising as he yanked you back and met your ass to his cock one last time in uniting your body with his. 

warmth began to fill you as john came undone, shooting deep inside of you. his hips slowed, but never came to a stop as you clenched around him, tight and yearning for his seed, and with that, he milked himself inside of you, giving you all of him and what was left of him—creamy and thick. 

his breath was heavy in your ear as he pressed his chest to your back, and you groaned, coming down from the high that you just experienced. sleep approached for the both of you, but he maintained the steadiness of his hips, spreading his load in you as if he was marking his territory.

“so... how long until you’re leaving?”

“mmmph, four more days….”

"good."

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

#✰ : nou.fics #✰ : nou.johnwick #john wick x male reader #john wick x reader #john wick x m!reader #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #john wick smut #male reader #x male reader #x reader #x m!reader #m!reader #male reader insert #male reader smut #bottom male reader #top john wick #x y/n #john wick fic #john wick fanfic #john wick fanfiction #nouearth #g: smut #x you #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves #john wick #keanu reeves x male reader #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves x m!reader

[inklore]

undo me

premise: the relationship between you and john is anything but soft, normal, domestic. it's deeper and more complicated than that. the pleasure and relief of desire that the two of you bring each other the only things clear cut.

pairing: john wick x (f)reader

word count: 904

warnings: eighteen+ content, handjob, dirty talk, references and illusions to oral and fingering, established fwbs, blood mention, reader is in the same 'business' as john.

note: i've never written for this beautiful man and it's honestly a crime because he's so underrated and i want to hold him!

The fire that’s burning in his eyes—lust fueled, hungry, a craving only you can stop that has that underlying anger within it—scalds your senses. Makes the hand that you have wrapped around his cock ache to move faster, to twist, and run your thumb along the leaking head so you can hear that deep groan he lets out against your forehead. The noises he tries to hide with the kisses to the top of your skull that are anything but affection. 

Affection he’d never admit to and you’d never claim anything of. 

The two of you were the same. Joined in loss and hatred, and the bloodshed that you’ve spilt and tainted your skin with was second nature. Something that felt like you were born into, for, the longer you stayed in the business. The longer enemies piled as high as the bodies you’d claimed along the way of some sort of redemption. A release. A freedom from something that had no end. 

It was only when you two were together like this—when John allowed himself to be like this with you—that those enemies, the bloodshed, and freedom didn’t matter. 

Weren’t pounding at the door, threatening to take your life before you could take theirs. 

You didn’t know if he was a giving lover. Not really. When you were done, he usually finished you off, always with his fingers. A handful of times with his mouth. There were no soft kisses or devotions whispered into the crook of your neck. Pulling him towards the bed and stripping like some domesticated couple was not in the cards. Wasn’t what this was about—why it had kept happening and why you always knew his knock by heart and grew wetter the closer you got to the door. 

To invite him another night to give each other the release you needed—that closeness to another person as your hearts would allow—and then he was gone and reality was back with a vengeance. 

Tonight is no different. 

The same knock. 

The same quick work of unbuckling his pants to slide your hand down them to pull out his cock and wrap your fist around it. 

Your knees had bent, a descent ready to be made to give him a better release from his tense shoulders with your mouth. But his grip on your hip had stopped you.

His forehead coming down on yours, hair growing slick with sweat the longer you jerked him off, the more his body sank into the pleasure. His breath heavy, “want your eyes on me tonight.” He had said, an overanalysis of the tenor in it, making you want to think it was begging. A desperate plea. 

But never from him. 

And you had done what he said. 

Kept your eyes on him.

Let your eyes move along his face; watch as he wets his lips with his tongue, as his eyes screw shut for half a second when you twist your wrist at the head of his cock the way he liked. The fist he had pressed into the door behind your head keeping himself stationary. His body weight half leaned into you, giving just enough room for him to move his hips.

To fuck up into your hand.

To set the pace he needed. 

There was a time and place for you to make conversation while doing this. To ask him if he had a rough day or crack a joke. But tonight, you know he doesn’t need it. He just needs this.

You.

Your hand. 

To get off. 

For you to help him. 

“John,” you murmur softly against his cheek. Bring his attention back to you, popping whatever fantasy he’s letting burn through his gaze, so he can only see you. “Tell me how good it feels; am I making you feel good?” 

“Yeah,” his voice has lost all of its normal sternness. All of the frightening edges that have men and women running. He sounds weak, breathless, and overcome. It makes you ache. “Couldn’t–” he curses under his breath. Brings the hand from your hip to your neck to rest and tighten with each downward stroke. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you tonight. I needed to see you. Needed to-”

“To come for me.” The noise he lets out at your words has your gut plummeting. Your thighs closing in around the leg he has positioned between them. You open your mouth to tell him to do it, to come for you, to let go. But his fingers are muffling your words. Stealing them from your tongue as he presses two fingers against it. 

“Get them wet.” He demands. Watches as you swirl your tongue around them and coat them in your spit, taking them out when he’s satisfied and moving them down to where your fingers are wrapped around him. Swiping the spit against his head for you to use as more friction—easier, wetter. 

You can tell he’s close by the hitch in his breath. The fast rock of his hips, the fingers digging into your neck. 

And the way he’s looking at you, the slow trail he makes between your eyes and your mouth, you half expect him to kiss you. To press his mouth to yours in a way he’s never done before. 

A slow seeping disappointment is swiped away by arousal when he says, “get on your knees. I want you to taste what you do to me.” 

#john wick x reader #john wick smut #john wick x you #john wick imagine #keanu reeves smut #john wick x y/n #john wick fanfic #john wick fic #john wick

[pink3princess19]

john wick x reader hc/ramble

cw/tw: um..a little silly, a little goofy, a little fluff, age gap ( reader is 20+, John is in his 40’s), mentions of tattoos, gn!reader

an: I’m in my keanu reeves era; also this gif makes me dizzy🥴😵; anyways enjoy whores

masterlist

first of all heS GENTLE I DONT CARE WHAT ANYONE ELSE SAYS HES MY POOKIE BEAR CUDDLE MUFFIN

oh my god his hugs :(

i just need to lay down on his chest and for him to rub his hand up and down my back reassuringly after a long day >:(

he loves when you scratch his beard like a dog(is this weird lol) he finds it so domestic and intimate

ok so...he’s old, so let’s imagine he stayed out of the crime world… he has such old guy hobbies its so cute (he's beekeeping age yk)

he’s into gardening, he's in a band (bassist duh), he fixes up cars and motorcycles

the first time you noticed his back tattoo was when you two went swimming for the first time together

you didn't want to be a creep, but you had to stop yourself from drooling over it the rest of the day

you actually had to stop yourself from licking him head to toe like a popsicle but

speaking of tattoos, he LOOOOVES when you trace his back tattoo; if he can't sleep and you start to trace the pattern, he just melts

and if you have tattoos, he loves to do the same to you

he'll kind of lull you to sleep like that, taking his time with light kisses in between

on another note...i bet he does the 'dad on a vacation snoring so loud he has shaken then entire room awake' snore

and when you get woken up by said snore you're a little annoyed, but whenever this happens you just move to the guest room

after moving to the guest room and getting settled down, you get woken up ....again, only to see this BIG SCARY 6 FOOT ASSASSIN curled up next to you under the covers, hugging your waist as if you were a stuffed animal he couldn't sleep without :(

and you're like "...i actually came in here to remove myself from you-"

he's creeps around the house very quietly, almost like a ghost (unintentionally)

you could be doing laundry, folding the clothes and when you turn around to put them away, he's just there in the doorway like 🧍‍♂️ scaring the life out of you

once you two move in together, he'll gift you a dog :( like you're own little family :(

assuming that reader is in their 20's and john is in is 40's, how could you possibly pass up any opportunity to make old man jokes about him <3

" you know, in a couple of years i get to put you in the old folks home..."

"yeah right🙄, i'd like to see you try honey"

he takes care of you in every way; he makes sure you take your meds, and that you eat at least three meals a day; small everyday things like that :(

if you fail a big test or have a bad day at work he's waiting for you at home with a tub of icecream and ready to spoil you with affection

even tho he's a man of very little words, he'll know exactly what to say to make you feel better with words of praise and affection :(

#john wick #keanu reeves #john wick fic #john wick hc #john wick x reader #john wick x y/n #john wick fluff #john wick 2 #john wick 3 #john wick 4 #keanu reeves fluff #john wick gif #john wick x you #john wick headcanons #not edited #john wick x gn!reader

[97keanu]

john wick and reader’s first christmas together 🤩

*˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ I just love this idea! Thank you so much for sending it in ❄️.*ㅤ

Premise: John wants to give his wife the best Christmas he can. He decides to surprise you by taking you to a remote cabin he owns(typically used as a safehouse from his work if need be). Features John who tries to finally let his guard down and relax, hot cocoa kisses, and sexy times by the roaring fire ♡.゜

Tags/CW: FLUFFY, domestic bliss!John, loving husband!John, some much needed down time for the Wicks, blizzards, cabin in the woods, eventual smut, soft but still dominant!John, pretty tame but sensual smut, you learn things about your husband that you never knew, you see a side of john you never thought you would, daddy kink, spanking, commanding John, p in v, doggy, edging.

The roads twisted between thick fur and pine trees of the deepest and most vibrant hues of green your eyes have ever seen. You're used to your concrete jungle, the city life of New York being all you've ever really known. You had never taken a camping trip before John, let alone a getaway in some private cabin up in the mountains. You didn't know there were even mountains near where you two usually lived, but with the secret blindfolded plane ride, you're not sure you're even in the same state anymore.

John's large hand rests on your thigh, giving little squeezes every so often and warming the skin there. His other hand keeps a hold of the wheel, driving the slick black-as-night car. He had trade in for the SUV styled vehicle instead his usual Mustang so that you two could make it through the snowy terrain. The visibility is getting less and less as the darkness of night begins to settle in and the snowflakes blasting against the cars windshield get bigger and thicker by the minute. You're grateful for how warm the heaters are keeping you, your short skirt and leg warmers no match for this weather, but you had wanted to wear something cute for your getaway trip and John had only said it was a "little chilly". You curl up in the giant black leather seats of the car, sleep wanting to take you after so much traveling. You spy John peeking over at you, and hear him speak for the first time in a few miles.

"It won't be long now," He let's your thigh have another reassuring squeeze. "We'll be away and in the warmth of the cabin soon. I had it prepped for our arrival, so it should be nice and toasty when we get there."

You hum a small response, eyes wanting to shut so badly. Your head leans against the seatbelt, letting the thick strap cradle it.

The trees grow thicker and seem to be devouring the car as the road turns into a tiny trail. You wonder for a moment how or who John would send to keep the cabin prepped. You notice how the trail has been plowed already, and slowly but surely a warmth of yellow glows as John turns the last corner towards the cabin. You see the large structure, it's windows vibrantly orange against the cold whites and blues of the winter forest around it. The chimney already billows with smoke, lazily getting pulled away by the wind. It looks expensive and inviting.

John gets out of the car first, the wind blowing in flakes of snow already, melting on the warm leather seats almost immediately. John spies the chill that shakes through you from the sudden cold, and takes off his warm winter jacket. He walks over to your side of the car, opening it, that burst of frost blasting you once more. He helps you out, wrapping you tightly in his jacket, his warmth radiating into you through it.

John carefully takes you inside, careful of any ice that may be lingering. He opens the wooden door of the cabin, and you can already feel the warmth on your cheeks once more as you step inside.

"Not so bad, huh?" John says with a small smile, rubbing up and down your arms to try to keep you warm.

"Yeah, but I would have dressed warmer if I'd know there was a blizzard waiting for us!" You say with false concern, not really that upset when you're in such a luxury cabin as this, and all the thought that John put into it apparent to you.

"The storm wasn't supposed to set in so quickly, that was my mistake of underestimating it..." His voice remains brighter, but you can tell he wishes he had calculated it better. That sort of thing means a lot to him.

You pull your loving husband in, taking his bearded face in your hands and planting a long, soft kiss on his lips. You pull back and look into those deep brown eyes of his. For the first time in a long time, he looks content, excited, happy. There's a significant lack of the usual worry there, but even so, his dark brows always show a hint of it.

"Listen, why don't you take a moment to warm up by the fire in the livingroom, and I'll start getting our things inside..." He is obviously up to something else, you can always tell, but you have an idea of it either way.

You shrug off the jacket he gave you, his masculine scent of pine and mint cologne going with it, and give him a kiss on the cheek as you do.

"Keep warm out there..." You whisper to him, a hand pushing one side of his long dark hair back behind his ear.

"Always..." He returns the kiss and slips out the door, snow billowing in onto the hard wood as he does, and the wind being extinguished as he closes the door once more.

For a moment, you glance out the window, fogged up by the heat of the inside fighting the cold of the wilderness. You check the car, where your husband should be, and see nothing, thinking he's disappeared into that dark winter night. Then, you catch a glimpse of him moving past a different window, farther from the car than he should be if he were to be unpacking.

Checking the perimeter. You've known him to do this when you two travel. No other man you've dated has done such a thing, but no other man was John Wick. You still were unsure about his work since he kept you at such a distance, but you could take a few guesses at this point. You don't like him being out in the cold like this, but if it makes him feel better, maybe takes his mind off everything so that you two may enjoy your Christmas vacation together, then you'll let him do so without bringing it up.

That was your duty as a loving wife. A loving wife who didn't ask questions. Who knew but said nothing of it. Who doted without wanting to know more. And for now? That was enough for you.

You know it will be a second before he gets back, so you decide to take in the cabin while he's away. You look at the grand living room area you're standing in, two massive staircases encircling the largest Christmas tree you've ever seen, twinkling with a million tiny lights. The dark wood of the enterior is rich and inviting. To your right, a fireplace, couches and seating around it, the mantel hung with green garland and deep red bows. In front of the fire rests a white bear hide, you wonder if it's real or not, but you don't think you've ever seen John hunting. Animals, that is.

Beside that are the largest windows you've ever seen, over looking the forest and you think a lake if you can spy that correctly out in the mess of the blizzard. It makes your heart tense to think of John out there in that, but he's a grown man, he can make his own decisions, you tell yourself, as the good, loving wife you are.

You walk there, looking out, seeing all the freezing cold that you're happy to be away from dancing out there beyond the thick trees. You turn towards the fire, walking over, letting the bare of your legs and arms get warm. Your thin little scarf did just about as much as you tiny skirt and white fluffy leg warmers did to warm you, but a lively fire should do the trick. You close your eyes, hands out and feeling the warm down to your bones, listening to the wood crackling and dying inside the flame.

After a while, you end up curling yourself the coziest and plushest couch you've ever been in. It's deep brown in color, and has the feeling of soft leather, the kind that still has a bit of fur on it. The crocheted cream blanket hung over it quickly becomes yours, and you watch the fire as your eyes slowly drift closed, and the flames twirl behind your eyelids.

❄️.*ㅤ

You're not sure when you fell asleep, or for how long, but when you feel cold lips kiss upon your cheek, your eyes flutter open to meet John's. The fire behind him has significantly died down.

"Sorry to wake you sweetheart," his voice is hushed and soft. "I finished unpacking for us. I started our late dinner as well, so that will be done soon if you're hungry."

You hadn't really thought about it, but as John mentions it, and you smell that delicious scent of a home cooked meal, your stomach growls despite yourself. John smiles at the response and stands up, holding a hand out to you. You take it, enjoying the feel of his rough hands engulfing your tiny soft ones for a moment.

The two of you go towards the left of the cabin, through two double doors grand with subtle embellishments, and the wonderful smell of the kitchen grows larger as you walk through. You see the brightly lit kitchen before you, the appliances a mix of modern and old styled, the color of them all deep greens and brandished golds. A small, simple chandelier hangs down over the middle of a black marble island in the center of the room. There are nice, large, comfy stools made of wood and black leather waiting for you there, the high backs of the stools perfectly curved to lean against. You take seat, and John opens the oven to check what's cooking in there.

"I always forget how good of a cook you are." You say with a soft smile.

"I don't do it often, but I hope you enjoy it when I do." He responds with a small chuckle, pulling a chefs apron in black off a golden hook on the wall, and wrapping it around himself so he may continue cooking.

He gets out a medium golden saucepan, opening the old styled fridge and getting out cream and milk, mixing them into the pot. You watch with fascinated eyes as he does so, then spotting him open the pantry door and seeing it fully stocked with snacks and goodies.

"You really had this place set up, huh?" You comment as he takes out a hefty bar of high quality dark chocolate from the pantry.

"Only the best for my wonderful wife..." He says with that small smile of his, walking over near you and setting up a cutting board.

"Do you wanna learn how to make homemade hot chocolate?" He continues, bringing a sharp chefs knife with him.

You're actually really interested, you've never had John 'teach' you anything so far, so you wonder what kind of mentor he would be.

"Yes, I'd like that."

John nods, and begins to show you and tell you what he's doing. First, he takes the chocolate bar, then sets it on the cutting board. He then explains how sharp these types of knives are and how you have to be careful, showing you how to cut with your knuckles out instead of your fingers.

"Always cut away from yourself..." He explains as he does so himself, chopping the chocolate into finely shredded pieces. "It's kind of hard because you don't want the chocolate to melt too much from your hands, so you have to work fast."

You watch a few more times, a question or two being answered with patience and honestly, and finally you feel your ready. John comes behind you, his hands guiding yours to the right places, then traveling up to your shoulders. You shiver from his touch.

He watches carefully as you cut, making sure to tell you if you're getting too close to your knuckles. You work slower than he does, the chocolate beginning to melt and stick to your fingers, but he doesn't stop you. He wants you to be able to make mistakes and figure it out on your own.

He pulls his hands down to yours a few times when you ask for help, his hands helping yours to get the motion. You feel a blush settling in your cheeks as you think about how close he is, his scent easily inhaled from this distance. You know you're already married to the man, but you can't help but retain that crush you've had on him since the very beginning. He had such a way with being suavely romantic like that, as if he wasn't even trying to do so.

Finally, all the chocolate is cut, your chunks not nearly as fine as John's, but he reassures you it will all melt the same in the end. You both move to the pot of milk that's on the stove, John igniting the gas and the blue flame rising to meet the bottom of the pot. John let's you carefully brush the chocolate off the cutting board into the pot.

He then opens a nearby cupboard, bringing out spices and such.

"I like to put vanilla, cinnamon, and a bit more sugar into mine..." He admits almost sheepishly.

You have to agree, it's interesting to see John, his buff arms on display from his dark undershirt, scars here and there, in a chefs apron talking about his favorite way to prepare hot cocoa. It's not that he can't do such a thing, John could do anything, you know that. It's that he's usually never allowed to be so tender, to have such opinions, to show off this side of himself, even to you, his wife. You're already starting to cherish these moments of bliss with him.

He let's you add the other ingredients yourself with the help of his verbal instructions, and you're happy he does so. You may be his wife, but he knew when he married you that you didn't sign up to be the cook in the family. And you're glad that he never pushed that, but right now, you're enjoying creating something with him, even if it is a recipe.

"So, where up here for 5 whole nights, what do you have planned for me, John?" You say over your shoulder as you stir the heating liquid on the stove.

John is taking what's in the oven out as he responds, the delicious smell of roasted chicken and vegetables filling your nose.

"Oh, a little of this, a bit of that," he plays coy then continues. "Would you prefer if I don't keep it a surprise?"

You think about his question, asked in ernest, and consider it.

"No, but, I guess I'm just excited since what you've already given me has been so wonderful..." You smile and glance at him, watching as he prepares two plates for the evening.

Even this, he does with precision.

"If I didn't know any better, I would have thought you were a real chef." You comment on his culinary skills.

"Ah," he says with a sigh as he wipes clean a spot of loose sauce on the sparkling white plate. "Perhaps, in another life..."

You know John doesn't speak of his work often, but every so often you get a glimpse into his true thoughts and feelings about it. You go back to finishing the hot chocolate without a word.

❄️.*ㅤ

Soon, the two of you have dined and enjoyed your delicious meal, lazing on the livingroom couch together with a mug half filled with cocoa each, the whipped cream all gone.

You lean into John's form, enjoying the feeling of his body against yours, the way the curves fit just perfectly. You listen to Christmas vinyl, all instrumental pieces, softly playing on a record player in the room. You watch outside as the snow piles up and drifts against the room filling windows, letting it block the two of you in here alone with ease.

"Aren't you worried we'll get snowed in?" You whisper to your husband, voice languid and relaxed.

"Not one bit," John chuckles softly in your ear, playing with a strand of your hair between your fingers. "We have more than enough food and resources to last well over a month. Besides, I'm used to the cold."

He kisses your cheek with the last word, and you can't help but smile back.

You bite your lip, thinking about what you want to say back, what you dream of asking, but you know you're not supposed to ask questions into his past. That's not what you're meant to do as his loving wife.

A few moments pass, and you just can't help yourself.

"Where did you grow up, John?" The words fall from your mouth, and you feel the muscles in John's chest tighten, almost reflexively.

He doesn't say anything for a long time, then a breath he seems to have been holding slips out low and slow.

"I grew up as an orphan." He says it slowly, and your eyes widen when you hear, you're grateful your back is against John so he can't see your surprise.

You say nothing, digesting the words, having learned so much from so little. You can imagine that it wasn't at all easy growing up as an orphan, but a part of you wonders, no hopes, that the story has a better end.

"I was born in Belarus," he continues. "And stayed there until I eventually made my way to New York."

Shadows, once again, from your husband. There is so much he's omitting, you know that, and there's so much you wish to ask him for details. You swallow those questions hard, instead remaining silent, in case he wishes to tell more, but not pressing anything.

"The winter's there were pretty harsh, so I find it somewhat comforting to be back in it." he finally says after a long pause. "Reminds me of how far I've come from that."

You feel John's hands move for the first time since this conversation, suddenly no longer frozen against you. It's as if the warmth has begun to flood his body against, forgetting that freezing past of his. He pulls you in tighter, wrapping his arms around you and feeling you there with him. You hear his sigh, and you know that's all he will say about it tonight. He buries his face in your hair, ready to forget for now. You let him.

❄️.*ㅤ

The days at the cabin pass like the last of the snow fall on the peaks of the trees, quiet, hushed, a whisper to a lover with lustful intent. You spend time with John that feels like a century, and as the night of Christmas Eve arrives, you find yourself feeling closer and closer to him without having to say much.

With his away at work all the time, you're cherishing these moments as they come, happy to stay inside with him and the cozy warmth of the fire that John keeps from going hungry. Tonight, you lead him into the living room, where the fire crackles and welcomes you once more. He let's you dance as you do so, helping twirl you as the jazzy songs of the records he puts on dazzle in response.

You pull him to the couch, letting him take a seat before you decide his lap is yours, straddling him. He looks wonderful tonight, his beard trimmed clean and his suit retired for a relaxed fit of a black v-neck that shows off his muscular form wonderfully. You're surprised to see he can even wear jeans, so used to his formal attire he usually comes home from work in. There's no blood splatters or blood holes to be found either. Nothing for you to repair, patch up without a word, the dutiful wife who knows her place in this gone for these moments.

You feel like when you just met, and John was just a charming, handsome man who woo'ed you into his life. No secrets were insight, not quite yet, back then. Just typically lack of knowledge of one another. More equal than ever in those moments.

You kiss him, the fire silhouetting the two of you. Your kiss is passionate and deep, your lips finding his and crushing against them with want and warmth from so deep inside you, you wonder if a flame hasn't ignited there as well. You feel your stomach flutter as you kiss, his hands starting at your back, holding you there as you grind into his lap slowly, as if you're trying not to let him know you're doing it at all. He smiles into the kiss, his hips returning the sensation, obviously knowing what you want.

When the kiss finally breaks, your breathless and looking into those dark eyes, the fire dancing twinkling yellow light on them so you can see the amber inside. You watch him for a moment, watch your handsome husband who breathes heavy beneath you, eyes full of want that he is barely holding back. You know he could take you whenever he wishes, flip you like you weighed that of a feather and fuck your brains out just as easily. But he wants to let you play with him, let you enjoy this and watch you as you do.

"Show me how badly you want it," he says, and you already know what he means.

You lift your skirt, your lacy, delicate panties revealing for just a moment as you straddle one of his thighs. You get in position, slowly taking your top, fluffy sweater off, your bralette matching your panties beneath. He watches with curiosity, a lone hand gently, as light as a moth's wing, gliding against your curves, taking them in.

You shudder as if a chill has found you, but all you have inside is that fiery passion that John flames within. You kiss him again, moving down his neck, pulling down to his chest and trying to get as much surface area as you can from his v-neck. Your hips begin to gently grind against his thigh, the feeling of being able to control your pleasure there wonderful. John chuckles while he watches you struggle to kiss deeper, and you think for a moment he may take his shirt off as well.

"Rip it off," he says with a laugh, and you pull back to look at him.

"I don't think I'm strong enough..." You admit with a smile, waiting for him to tease you.

"I want to see you try." He isn't teasing per se, but he is curious to see the strength you wield.

You laugh for a moment, then see how serious his eyes are about it, and bite your lip. You know he wouldn't make fun of you for not being able to do such a thing, you're no trained fighter the way he is, after all. But you do want to impress him.

You grip that V of his shirt a little harder, and clench your fists tight around it, giving it a testing tug. Nothing happens, and you glance to John, who's bemused by the sight.

"You'll have to try harder than that, love." He whispers, still encouraging you with his tone.

You pull harder this time, using all the muscles in your arms as you can. Still, not much, but you think you hear a few seams tear. You try one more time and finally, a decent part of the V rips open, exposing more of his deliciously defined chest.

"That's a good girl, I knew you could do it." He reassures, cupping your face and letting his thumb rub against your lower lip.

You open wide, letting his thumb enter there, playing with your tongue for a moment, before settling in your mouth. You suck joyfully on it, letting him praise you for being so good, rubbing your wetting cunt on his thigh more. He watches you with a pleased grin, his free hand on your hip, guiding you into his thigh. You let your hands explore his chest as much as you want, enjoying the feel of hard muscle against soft skin there.

"Are you going to be a good girl for Daddy and show him how badly you need his cock?" He says with his head tilted in curiosity, watching your reaction.

You moan and nod, still enjoying letting your mind slowly fade away, turning into the dumb little whore you love to be for him. You keep your body rocking against his and he takes his thumb from your mouth, reaching up to your designer skirt, and ripping through it much faster and easier than you did his shirt. He does away with the rest of that as well, and hears your pouting about the ripped skirt.

"Don't worry, I'll buy you another one." he smirks. "I like it better when I can see all of you."

And with that he unzips your bralette from the front, letting your breasts, heavy with want, fall into his large hands. He takes both of them, rubbing them perfectly in unison, enjoying the feeling there. He likes how soft you are, how all your edges are smooth without sharpness. He enjoys how plump and soft your skin is, telling you such things in a whisper, making the heat of a blush rise to your cheeks and chest. You reach back and center your hands on his legs, giving him a better view of what he desires, and note leverage to grind deeper into his thigh. You needy whines begin to echo in the cabin.

"Oh, is that all, darling?" he says. "I think you can show me how much you want it more than that."

You breathe out, your chest heaving, letting your breasts entice him with each lung full of air.

"I need you so bad..." You whisper, your pussy soaking through your panties.

"Oh really? Should Daddy check?" He says, letting one of his hands move to your awaiting cunt, and testing out how wet you are over your panties.

He rubs there, and you lose it, your eyes rolling back and closing with pleasure that runs through you as he plays with your clit. You grind into his hands, so big and waiting for your pretty little cunt to do such a thing. He stops moving, making you whine more from lack of stimulation, but you know he wants to watch you rub yourself against him first.

"I'm not convinced yet." John raises a skeptical eyebrow and you pretend hate how much work he's making you do.

You touch your own breasts, grinding harder and whining louder, calling his name.

"Tell me what you want, baby girl. Tell me how you want me to fuck you."

"I-I..." You try to get that lustfully full and dumb head of yours to bring coherent words from your moans. "I want you to fuck me in front of the fire. On the floor, from behind, and hold me down like the naughty girl I am..."

You feel a shiver run right down to your cunt from how John smirks at you, happy with your response.

He says nothing, and for a moment you're not sure if you've begged enough yet. But then, without warning, he grabs you, flipping you into his arms, and rising from the couch. He pulls you to him, the heat of his skin against yours giving you tingles. Soon, you're on all fours, the pelt of that bear rug thick and soft between your fingers. You look back, and John's hands are already at your panties, and with a gasp from you, he's ripped those off as well and discarded them.

He in zips his jeans, his cock flopping out, girthy and ready for you.

"Put yourself on Daddy's cock, show me that you want it." He breathes with his own lust only barely concealed.

You back up on your knees, feeling his cock flop against your ass, the size of it so intimidating already. You can already feel your cunt clenching from how badly you want it. Your hand reaches back and moves it so his cock is between your legs underneath you, and you slowly stroke it, enjoying the soft breaths John let's out from the pleasure.

You start by letting it slide between your wet folds, letting it rub it's tip against your clit, enjoying the friction there. Then, finally, as John commanded, you line his cock up with your needy entrance, and slowly let the head breach your folds there, popping inside of you as you moan out.

"That's it. Ease yourself onto me."

You do so, slowly letting your ass back up into him, his cock getting deeper and deeper as you do, stretching you out slowly. He may be your husband, but with a cock like that, you've always had to take your time to accomadate him if you didn't want it to be painful. Other times, the slam of his cock so suddenly inside you was desired, but tonight, you two are taking it slow.

You gasp as you feel his full length slowly fill you, so tight and deep inside of you. John's hands play with gripping your ass, before letting a light, but loud slap go on them. 

“Fuck, your tight little cunt feels so good, baby…” He sighs out as he carefully pulls his hips back, starting to pump inside you after. 

You moan, loving the way he praises you like that, loving being a good girl for him who takes all of his girthy cock whenever he wants. You hate to admit how mindless you go when he fucks you like this. You feel like every worry and thought is fucked right out of your pretty little head. 

John's cock begins to pick up speed, and with your sudden gasps and moans from the faster stimulation he asks if you're taking it alright. 

You give a confirming noise and nod, but you can barely speak from how good you're feeling right now. 

“That’s a good girl,” John says, his voice tight and husky from how much he's enjoying fucking you. “I want you to touch yourself for me, baby. I wanna feel you cum all over my cock.”

You feel tingles run across your back as his hands station there, plunging his cock deeper as he does. At this rate, you feel like you might even just cum from what he's doing right now. Yet, your clit aches from the lack of attention, so you shift your weight and body so your hand can reach beneath yourself to get to that tender spot. 

“Yes, baby…Show me how much you love me fucking you.” John’s voice hushes to you, soft, but commanding. 

You do just that, feeling yourself in just the right way, you pleasure doubling as he continues to fill you up with his cock over and over again. You find your cheek against the fur rug, the heat from the fire prickling your skin, at this point making you almost start to sweat. You close your eyes, mouth open and moans uncontrollable. 

“Look at me.” John commands, and your eyes flutter open, your head turned to look back at him. 

John is just so gorgeous. His ripped, lean body, the glisten of sweat gleaming and twinkling in the fire light. But what really turns you on is his eye contact. Those wolf-like eyes, so deep and dark, looking at you. You can't help but feel like prey to him when he's like this, the way he looks at you like a predator who's just about to earn his hunt. You feel your cunt tightening as you do what he says, your own eyes look at him with scared little doe eyes, afraid to disobey, to not please. 

You watch as your husband continues to pound your cunt into oblivion, taking more and more, picking up speed despite how brutal it's already starting to feel. You love the feeling, the feeling of allowing your husband so much power over you, of letting him take your body however he wants. You feel your eyes flutter closed from how close you are, cunt tightening to try to get closer, breath held. 

You also hear a deep, animalistic growl from John, and you know you're breaking the rules. He commanded you to look at him, and now you're losing yourself in your pleasure without doing so. Even after you correct yourself, eyes meeting his, you know you've earned a punishment. 

He wrenches your hips back into his cock, keeping you there with one hand in a steel grip, the other lifting off and pulling back to slap your ass. You cry out at the first hit, feeling a sting reverberate there. The worst part was how much wetter it made you, how closer you were from every spank he laid upon you ass. He continues, a small smirk on his lips, he knows what he's doing to you. 

“Tell me how much you like. Tell me how you deserve to be fucked like this.” John's voice wavers and you know he needs to hear it just as much as you do.

“I…” You try to make your brain work, another gasp and another slap, your ass now red with his hand print. “I need you to punish me for being a bad girl, and not following your rules.”

Your hand is viciously rubbing your swollen and wet cunt, being pushed to its edge by how deep and hard John thrusts into you. 

“And?” John urges you on, his cock feeling harder and harder, swollen and ready to fill you as soon as he lets himself do so. 

“And I want you to spank me until I'm left with a mark to remember to be a good girl next time…!” You cry out, so close, wanting to close your eyes and focus on your pleasure, but forcing yourself to keep that eye contact with him. 

You hear John growl once more, this time from how much he's holding back right now. You know he wants to cum, but he's waiting on you. Your legs begin to shake as you continue to hastily play with your clit. John seems as if he can't take it anymore, and he grabs your hips, pulling them up, his hand snaking under you and pushing yours aside. 

“Let Daddy do it for you.” He says as if he's frustrated beyond your comprehension, but you love the way he touches you, so you allow it. 

His large hands take up so much more space, engulfing your clit, milking it in the perfect way that makes your breath leave your body and your muscles clench with shivers. You take all he is giving you, watching him as he begins to lose himself in you. You tighten around his cock to a point you don't think you can do more, and begin to feel yourself come over the edge, cunt fluttering and spasming around him.

“That’s my girl…” He sighs out, obviously there is relief in the fact that he can do this for you. 

You try your hardest to keep eye contact, but in the end, you close them, finding yourself lost in your own competition. You relish in the feeling of his hand taking your pleasure from you, slowing down and making it last. You feel as he reaches his own point, and finally with a groan, John spills inside of you as you're on the tail end of your finishing. His cum feels hot, almost tingly inside of you, making your head fall against the rug as you take his rutting against you, digging his cum in as deep as he can into your tight little cunt. 

When he's done, he slowly pulls out, his hand swiping any stray cum and slipping it back inside you with ease. You feel completely exhausted, and he can tell. John takes you into his arms, pulling you onto his chest as he lays next to the fire with you. You feel yourself softly drift off to sleep as John pets your hair, whispering sweet praises in your ear. 

“I love you…” He ends on after complimenting your body and everything else he adores about you. 

You softly mumble a return, and with that sleep has taken you. 

❄️.*ㅤ

John surprises you for the rest of the trip. Ice skating down at the lake, amazing dinners, long baths together with glasses of bubbly champagne just to name a few. 

When it comes to the day of Christmas Eve, he's somehow managed to make some of your favorite family dishes. You look over the feast, and feel at home here with him. You never want to leave this cabin, but you know in the coming days you will have to. You love how close you and John have gotten here. 

“How did you know?” You say after he reveals tonight's dinner, John’s arms wrapped around you while he snuggles into the crook of your neck. 

“I have my ways…” He says mysteriously, and you know he will just leave it at that. 

You two dine, laughing and carefree, something you didn't think you would see from John this often. 

When you're done, you curl up on a couch near the tree, and John begins to pull out a few presents. 

“Don’t you want to wait until tomorrow?” You ask him.

“I know your family always celebrates on Christmas Eve instead of day…” And for a moment you try to remember if you've told your husband that, or if this is another one of his mysterious ways. 

You decide it doesn't matter, because you're just happy he cares and is thoughtful enough for any of this. 

He hands you a small silver wrapped box first. He watches as you accept it and begins to open it with a smile twinkling in his dark eyes. You can tell he enjoys this. 

You open the present, and are met with the most beautiful necklace you’ve ever seen. It's perfectly your taste, and when John goes to put it on you, it hangs beautifully on your neckline. You feel him kiss up your neck as you thank him for something so gorgeous. 

“You don't need to thank me,” he whispers in your ear. “Someone as beautiful as you deserves beautiful gifts.” 

You can't help the smile creeping on your lips from that line, and you turn so your lips can crush against his with a grin. He turns the kiss, his soft, plump lips enjoying yours. 

Then, it's your turn. You hand him a gift from you, and you feel a little nervous in comparison to what he's just given you. You know yours is less expensive, and you wonder if you should have gone for something so handmade. 

John slowly and carefully tears off the red and green wrapping, and when he's done he's met with a small leather-bound book. He glances up at you with curiosity, then opens it. 

What he finds is a photo album filled with photos of you two over the time you've been together. There's pictures of you on some of your first dates with him, pictures of your honeymoon, vacations you've had together. There's even some of you two around the apartment being silly together. John says nothing, but slowly turns each page, looking over each photo with care. 

You fiddle with the edge of your sleeve, wondering if he likes it or not. 

Finally, he gets to the end where you've left a heartfelt message to him about how you feel. He reads it, then to your relief, a smile slowly finds itself on his lips. 

“This is…” He starts, then loses the words. “I can't describe to you how perfect this is.” 

You feel the breath you were holding leave your lungs, and you lean into him next to you on the couch. He wraps an arm around you and brings you closer, kissing the top of your head as he does. 

“I…will cherish this, thank you, my love…” He whispers into your ear, and you feel your heart swell. 

You two continue exchanging smaller gifts, John somehow getting everything on your list, and you outfitting him with things he likes. You know the first gift was his favorite from how he keeps looking through it. You two end the night with rum and eggnogs while watching your favorite Christmas show, happy to be with each other. You couldn't ask for a better Christmas. 

#john wick x reader #john wick fic #john wick fanfic #john wick x f!reader #my writing #christmas 2023

[twistedbloodstain]

vincent de gramont x assistant!reader: i made you my temple, my mural, my sky now i'm begging for footnotes in the story of your life. | the marquis wants more of what meets the eye.

plot: the one where the marquis has had enough of just a glimpse.

warning: unrequited?,vincent is down bad af, boss-assistant relationship

masterlist

your cries of pain are so soft but so loud in his ears. stupid, stupid girl. what have you done? it frightens him to see you so…helpless. he tries to soothe you from it but to no avail, he can feel the warm thick blood from your torso dripping on his trousers.

but what petrifies him to the bone was your silence. the moment you flutter your eyes shut and the whimpers of pain from your lips dwindle down makes his blood run cold.

what happened next was a blur for him but all he can remember was holding your hand as thomas drove through the thick of the city to bring you to safety. why had you done that? he clasps your hand even tighter when he can feel you take a sharp breath every now and then. it makes him hope. it makes him pray to any god out there to let you live. please…not her..not her. not when she did that for me. not when she just took a bullet for me, it cannot be. he doesn’t know why, but he does. he’ll beg on his knees to every god out there if it meant seeing you safe and alive.

when you're taken from his arms and placed on a stretcher, he can only stand in shock. it still doesn’t make sense to him, were you…not what he thought you were? no, no she was just in the way of it. she probably cursed me to death when she got shot. but she hadn’t said anything, and the way she looked at me. god it was full of fear and dread, she had gripped on him when he’d taken her to his arms, and it was full of the fight left inside her. the way she latched her hand on his wrist felt like the way you would grip a rosary for a prayer to god, he wonders to himself.

the marquis stands still in front of the door. behind the door, are skillful medical professionals working to keep you alive but it doesn’t feel enough. he feels fear pool into his stomach. what if she doesn’t recover? what if she doesn’t live through the night? what if she dies? what would he do?

his mouth sews shut and his throat goes dry. she’ll live. she has to, the marquis reassures himself. he cannot bear the thought of you gone, of you dead on a medical table all because of him.

the gods had been gracious. why? because right now, he’s sitting beside the bedside table on which he has his preferred drink; a pitcher of lemon water. other than that there’s the matter of you.

there you are in the least of your glory. tucked beneath the silk sheets in one of the guest rooms of his estate and your head laid on the large wooly pillows. the doctor managed to stabilize the wound on your torso.

“thankfully, the bullet hadn’t hit any vital organs, the main concern we focused on was the excessive bleeding from it.” the doctor explains to him. there are more he says to him, but he never hears the end of it. all he could focus on was you. your eyes still shut but your breathing was steady, he could hear the beeping of the vitals sign monitor as he gazed at you.

you looked so…innocent. as if you weren’t recovering from an injury but merely sleeping. your guard was down and you seemed so calm. something he never witnessed while you worked for him, not that he’s ungrateful for it but you always seemed rigid and always expected something bad to be thrown on your face all the time, to see you so relaxed and serene felt like a gift.

it felt like a privilege from the gods. oh they truly had been gracious enough to give this sight to him.

he wondered if he would see more of this once you woke up. he hopes he does, your sweet angelic face that was always nervous and alert was more delightful to see when you were peaceful. he wonders what your smile would be like, how the corner of your lips would curve when you were amused from something he said, you’d often hid it from him trying to remain professional when a you heard a jape from someone.

he wonders what your sweet laugh would sound like. that would be lovely to hear. how it could sound like music to his ears when it came from you, how precious it would be just to hear it once. he would be honored if you were ever to bestow that gift to him. lastly, he wonders how to make you happy. how to make you pleased whenever you see him, not that composed structure you give him when you greet him in the morning but something genuine. he wants to tear down the walls you’ve built in front of him so he can see you. what you’re truly like.

now, you’ve shown a glimpse of it to him. he wants more, he prays that when you wake up, you won't shut him out again. when you wake up don’t shove him out of what you’re like. when you wake up don’t hide what you feel for him, not from him, don’t hide it from him. don’t wake him up just to realize it was all a dream. a fantasy he thought that came to its reality. you’re many things but cruelty is not one of them. so don’t break him, for god’s sake don’t.

“how long until she awakens?” he interrupts the doctor in the middle of his talk, surprisingly still going on.

“i’d give it two to three weeks, sir. if her vitals remain stable.” the doctor answers dutifully,

he hums before replying, “you can go.”

the doctor nods and bows his head a little then obediently obeys his command. right now, it’s just you, him and that monitor.

he stares at your face in uncertainty, two weeks. before it was something that seemed short enough for him but right now it felt like a century. he wanted to speak to you, to talk to you. he had so many questions for you, why you’d taken a bullet from him. if you wanted to resign from your job. why you made him feel like this.

like a lovesick fool.

as if that wasn’t painful enough, the answers he wanted to hear cannot be said. it felt like you told him you loved him then fled, although unintentionally it’s not like you intentionally got yourself shot to avoid confrontation from him…did you?

he shakes that thought out of his mind, the truth can only be provided through you. who is unable to answer that for at least two weeks, it was itching him to know, to know what you’ve done to him. what magic or skill you’ve done to make him latch onto you like a bug.

most of all he wants to know where does that leave the both of you. he wishes you don’t flee from him, that you’ll take him for what he is and more. he doesn’t think he can handle the idea of you out of his reach. out of safety, the only comfort you can only seek in this world is from him.

albeit, ironic considering you’re passed out on a bed because of a bullet meant for him. but when you wake up, he’ll promise. he’ll swear to you, that nothing, nothing would ever get to you ever again. he would protect you with all his power and control over the country just to see you sheltered from harm. what good is his power if he can’t use it to protect you from his enemies? anyone that fucks with you, fucks with me mon amour. i promise. he promises to you and to himself.

he remembers a painting he saw in the louvre. the death of alcestis. a tale about how alcestis willingly dies in place of her husband, admetus. at first, he’d thought the pair, alcestis and admetus were a bunch of fools. why would you eagerly die for someone? if you truly cared for your wife why had you let her die in your place? that’s not love, it’s simply tragedy. not that he has much experience on that matter but he never understood it.

the evening he starts to understand,. alcestis dies for her husband because of love, because she cannot bear the pain of her love absent in this world. she cannot live without her lover. did you think the same when you took a bullet for him? did you think that no pain could compare if he were dead? although for admetus, he could not find a defense for him, ironically he is the admetus to your alcestis but he swears. he swears that will never be the case ever again.

he’ll bring you back from the dead if it meant he would die in your place.

the guilt surges into his guts, mixing with the pool of fear that rushed into his veins last night. he feels sorry, for his failure, for himself but most especially for you. he feels miserable that he’d failed you, that because of him you got hurt.

it’ll never happen again. i won’t let it happen again. he vows to himself. he has to, for your sake and his.

as he stands up to leave, he goes to your bed and gazes into your face once more. he lowers himself to your frame, setting himself on the edge of the bed. you make no sign of disturbance from his movement, still heavily asleep. he takes your hand and strokes the back of it, lovingly.

“i have to go mon amour, but i’ll be back. i’ll be here when you wake up, i’ll be the first person you’ll see the same way i was the last person you saw.” he whispers to your dozing face, he ponders if you could hear him. likely not, but it doesn’t hurt to wonder.

he leans forward and slowly presses a soft kiss to your temple. gentle and nothing harsh, meant to convey his care with how fragile you were right now. he lets his lips linger on the softness of your temple, relishing on the mellow texture of your skin. he wants to stay here, with you. just the two of you like it always was for the past two years, he should’ve urged you to come sit with him in the car on the way to meetings, should’ve spoken to you every chance he had and he should’ve confessed how he felt towards you. no point mourning time that has been spent, even if it meant years that were wasted.

when he pulls away from you it feels like a force urged him to stay and he hopes he could but he can’t. he has a lifetime for that now, and so do you. he lifts your hand to his lips then slowly kisses your wrist, also lingering so long but seems so short for the marquis.

he leisurely stands up, keeping his eyes on your face. he strides towards the door then takes one last glance before opening the door. i’ll be back and she’ll still be safe. i’ll only be gone for only a few hours, he murmurs to himself.

he opens the door and sees a pair of guards by your door, they stand straight and acknowledge him by nodding their head. he sees thomas walking up to him, likely bearing news.

“sir, we’ve carefully taken them. they’re chained up at the edge of the city, we go at your order.” thomas informs him diligently. the marquis simply nods his head, a gesture of affirmation. he turns his head to the pair guarding your room.

“make sure to call for me, the moment she wakes up and keep her here until i say otherwise. understood?” he sternly instructs with the cold tone they’ve known for years. the pair answer obediently with compliance.

the marquis leaves them then walks through the hall towards the exit of the manor with thomas trailing behind him, it was odd to no longer hear the clicking of your heels behind him but right now he had other concerns.

it was time to make the people who hurt you, pay for what they’ve done.

when the news reaches his ears, he’s astounded. almost three weeks after your operation, you were finally awake. it delights him, to finally know you were safe and awake. he immediately stands up from his chair and walks out of his office.

he was overjoyed with what he just heard, although he did everything in his power to not let it show on his face as he trudged through the halls of the manor. the dread and fear was gone, in its stead it was bliss and happiness, he felt lighthearted knowing that the threat of losing you from death was finally extinguished.

two weeks after the incident and you still haven’t woken from your slumber, it had angered him. so he had taken it out on the doctor responsible for your recovery, he had pierced his hand with a knife and his assistant nurse had to help him pry the knife from his hand, from what he heard. it can be said that it was an overreaction and ever since that occurrence everyone walked on eggshells around him.

now it was gone, he felt relieved to know that you’re awake but as he neared your room, he heard a door close, the sound echoing in the cavernous hall. soon after, he saw adeline, the senior housekeeper coming from the other direction he was headed. the housekeeper stopped on her feet and acknowledged him by lightly bowing her head. he wondered if adeline just visited your room, it was probable to happen considering she had been one of his spies during his “venture of getting to know you”. he shakes that thought, it wasn’t important but a mysterious feeling remained in his stomach.

when he saw thomas and another of this men guarding your door, he saw the doctor and nurse nearing your door. the doctor greeted him but he made no effort to do the same. the moment he enters through the door he sees you.

awake. alive. safe

he swears his heart could burst just by the sight of you.

he stays silent the entire exchange between you and the medics. he sat on another of the chairs, lounging and waiting for it to end so he way share a word with you. he notices the way you flinch while they rebandage your wound.

he wants to kill that entire family all over again, just for the way you flinch right now.

when the pair of medical professionals leave he gazes at you. it takes all his strength to keep his composure calm and professional when all he wants to do is take you into his arms and kiss you senseless.

he speaks the first word for the both of you, simple courtesies. how were you feeling and the situation of your injury, nothing important. you thank him for the measures he’s done for you to keep you alive. i’ve done more and i’ll do it all over again. he wants to say but doesn’t.

what makes his brain suddenly stop functioning for a moment was when you ask when you tell him you need to go home.

you are home. can’t you see? can’t you see?! he wants to tell you.

it was starting to happen. he was starting to lose you when he just had you. he walks towards the window and faces away from you, trying to remain composure.

“sir?” you call out to him.

i can’t let you leave. i cannot bear the thought of it, i felt like i was being torn apart alive knowing you almost died because of me. how much more knowing you’re alive but not within my reach? don’t be cruel, mon coeur. don’t do this.

“is there something wrong with what i said?” you innocently question to him.

“you cannot.” he finally spits out.

you’re shoving me away just like what i feared. but why? i’ve done good things and unspeakable things for you, you can’t simply abandon me like this. not when you’ve made me feel alive and loved.

“why? is there something wrong with me?” you worried ask him, “sir?” you add when he doesn’t reply to you.

“it’s not…safe.” he states to you, finally facing you. he stares at you, if it was a gift to watch you asleep, it was a pleasure to see you awake again.

“for…who? for you or for them?” you frown, trying to deduce everything he’s said to you.

“it’s not safe for you.” he finally clears it out, glad to have gotten rid of it.

your mouth falls open, “what? it’s you they were aiming for, not me. they wanted to kill you. it was you they wanted to shoot. you were the target. i honestly don’t think they’d go after the assistant to finish the job. right?” you begin to ramble.

tell me something i don’t know, my dear. i’m reminded of that every night i sleep and every breath i draw from this world. no need to rub that in, but i’ve made amends. you have nothing to worry about.

“yes, you’re right. they wouldn’t.” he disclosed to you, “i know that bullet was intended for me, the man was supposed to shoot me. god knows i know.” he whispers.

“and look what happened to you. what they..did to you.” he says as he slowly walks towards you. “you…you weren’t supposed to get hurt. i don’t think i can forgive myself for that.” he says softly as he looks back at you.

suddenly, everything finally sets into your head. he can see your eyes widen while he gazes into your face. the urge to hold you close and kiss you like a starved man to death was strong. especially, right now when you’ve realized the weight of his words.

he doesn’t need to say it out loud that he cares and loves you. when the words he said hinted at what he means to say and the actions he’s done spoke better than his words could ever say but he still tries. he knows that you already know but he wants to make sure.

“you’re right. it was meant for me, but you had it instead. you…you took a bullet for me. who does that for someone? how many people in the world can say that they’ve taken a bullet for me? one. there’s only one. and she’s sitting right in front of me.”

the heaviness on his shoulders feels lighter now, he’s finally said the words however merely a fragment of what he truly feels but he has his entire life to say all of them, he’s in no rush to say his love to her right now. he has his entire life to love her.

“believe it or not, mon amour. you’ve become more precious to me than anything this life has to offer, i want to keep you safe and right now the only way is to keep you here.” with him, he wants to keep you safe here with him, away from all the horror of his work, to stay only with him and to speak the words unspoken for years.

“for a while, until you regain your strength. do you understand, mon coeur?”

the marquis has gone fucking crazy.

first he expressed a confession of love to you, second he was watching you the entire time you were asleep and lastly, he won’t let you leave the estate.

it had almost been an hour ever since your conversation with him after you woke up. soon after, thomas knocked the door and peeped his head in, informing the marquis about a visitor in the drawing room. which you were eternally grateful for because you were speechless with everything your boss just told you.

you were still sat on the same chair ever since, you deduced you’ve been in a trance for about two hours and a half, you felt like your legs would give out of shock if you tried to stand up. you found it hard to process everything.

did the marquis feel something for you? certainly. you could tell his intentions from his words and his tone. oh god, the words were enough to catch you off guard but the way he said it, slowly chokes you alive from how stunned you are.

but it feels out of nowhere. in the two years you’ve worked for him, he has been nothing but cold and crass with you like any other interactions between a boss and assistant so this feels rather confusing rather than touching even with the fragility and regret oozing through his tone.

even more reason to go home. you need space, from your injury, from that night and in addition from him.

you need to process your feelings properly without the marquis hovering around you, especially when he made it clear that you weren’t going anywhere. but how in the world were you going to get out of the room? everyone in this estate would immediately inform the marquis and drag you back to the room the moment they see you outside. although you could make an excuse to see someone then bolt through the manor the moment you’re slightly a few paces ahead of them.

you were at a complete disadvantage though, the guards could easily overpower you with their strength and just like you they’re familiar with the nooks and crannies of the sizable manor. however, if you were lucky and stealthy enough, you could attempt to temporarily hide from some rooms until you manage your way to the back door exit without getting caught.

you trudge towards the door, unsure with the plan in your head but too exhausted to make a fool proof one. you slowly push the door with all your strength, you slowly step out and the guard to your right immediately spots you. that’s expected.

“ma’am? you shouldn’t be up and walking around, the marquis specifically instructed that you stayed in your room.” the guard reprimands to you.

“i need to get to the doctor right away. i need the prescription for these painkillers he gave me. you know, in case i need more,” you lie to him.

“we can call for him, so he may come back. easier that way, no hassle for you.”

“i can’t wait for him, it’s urgent. please, i really need this.” you plead to him.

The guard feigns a look of hesitation from your reply. you hold your breath, praying he falls for your folly. he lets out a sigh then answers to you.

“alright, ma’am. but I’ll have to accompany you.”

“thank you.”

the both of you began to walk towards the medic’s office, thankfully the back door was close to the office. silence ensues the walk towards the destination, as you walk you plot your escape. as soon as you make a left, you bolt and run. the pathway to the medic’s was a bit of a maze, hopefully it would confuse the guard and either make the wrong turns or slow down from catching up on you.

several minutes and paces pass by and you finally see the opening to your escape. as soon you made the turn, you ran. a grunt of shock exits the guard’s mouth before scurrying to go after you. then you encounter the turns required for your escape. you move around hastily and once you look back you see that the guard was no longer on your tail. but you couldn’t afford to slow down, sooner or later he might catch up to you or worse another guard captures you.

you could hear bouts of masculine shouts throughout the manor as it bounced off the walls. it filled your stomach with dread and veins pumped full of adrenaline as your heart beat with trepidation. anxious that perhaps the marquis was informed of your ongoing escape.

finally you see the lavish curtain adorned with elegant designs, you shove the curtain aside and search for the door with your hands. for a second, you thought you’d arrived at the wrong place until a soft click entered your ears and your insides warm from happiness. the door was just as heavy as the others and with all your strength you pushed it open half way. you turn to properly fix the curtain making sure no trace of your escape was visible then shut the door as it creaked loudly, cementing the success of your breakout.

you burst open through your door, quickly shutting and locking it. adrenaline and paranoia filled your senses, afraid that you’d been followed to your home and that soon someone was banging on your door until it fell down. you press your back against the door and sink to the floor and sigh in relief.

you take a deep breath and slowly close your eyes for a while, relishing in the comfort of your apartment. you look around glad to see the familiar sight of your home and the sudden purring of your cat. you glance as you see him making his way towards you, a small smile curves your mouth.

ah..one of the burdens are coming to comfort me.

as he nears, you scoop him into your arms and nestle him on your chest. you wish it could stay like this for a while, that you weren’t actively avoiding your slightly deranged boss (that is in love with you?) but merely coming home from a long day to seek comfort from your cat. the ball of fur purrs and vibrations are felt through his body.

you pull away from your cat and get on your feet, making your way to your room for a well earned rest from doing a five mile marathon trying not to get caught. the adrenaline and paranoia was finally long gone.

you needed this. you need to hide out for a while before you face the awkward and confusing truth of reality. the comforting sensation home has given you brought you to sanity. you need to leave.

the guards open the door for him as per usual. although, he can sense fear radiating from them, and due to the intensity of the previous occurrence they were walking eggshells around him again. he enters the room, your room specifically. a few hours ago, the both of you were here and now you were gone, again.

vincent was annoyed. the very people he instructed to keep you in this room failed to obey the task but also lost you as you ran from your escort. not only did you leave this room but you also escaped the estate. how in the world did that happen?

he had no idea you’d be this slippery even with the strict bodyguards instructed to protect and detain keep you in the room. he expected verbal resistance not bloody remus john lupin. isn’t this so sweet? you. the gift that keeps giving.

he doesn’t let his men continue the search, after all there was only one place you could’ve been. in that apartment you live in for the past years, he knows where it is and what floor you are due to the investigation he’d imposed upon you a few years ago. so no worries, he only has his men posted around the structure to make sure you don’t leave. it’s much more strict and controlled than before, this time if they saw you exit the building they’d immediately grab you and bring you back to the estate. so win-win.

although, he prefers to have you here right now, he tries to understand that you’re probably overwhelmed with the surge of events that happened ever since that night. so he lets it pass. as much it insults his pride but he’s not in a hurry to have you stay with him for the rest of your days now that you’re awake. you’ve kept all what you felt from hidden because of his power,his intimidation and his pride. he doesn’t want to lose you again because of it. so he lets it happen, a few hours without you was a price worth paying for a lifetime loving you.

after all love does odd things to people that even the normal human cannot comprehend, love has its mysterious ways and that he can understand for you, even if it wasn’t all going according to what he wanted, he can swallow that down for you. you’ll be all worth it.

he can imagine waking up next to you in the early mornings, grazing your soft palm then slowly kissing your pulse while you sat next to him during dinner and the sweet kisses the both of you would share in the privacy of his room. he can fantasize the sweet dreams and the sinful acts he can do to you when you are finally his.

he inhales the air inside the room, the scent of you evident in the room, like a bloody handprint in a crime scene, attempting to calm himself with the remnants of your presence.

oh..he really misses you.

why do you have to be so stubborn? why do you feel the need to resist him and his love? he’s simply doing this for your best, for your safety. why can’t you just let him do this for you?

this moment should be joyous and exciting between the two of you, because you’ve both found a chance at love. how often does that happen? especially in a workplace, how often does someone find the love of their life within close proximity with them? little to none. he wants to beg you to stay, to journey through the uncharted territory together. don’t leave him, don’t.

he’s finally realized that he loves you, let him show it. let that love melt all that fear you hold in your heart. because it’s all right now, he’s here, let him love you, let him protect you, let him yearn for you.

something vibrates in his pocket, it snaps him out of his trance. a notification beeps through his phone and he leisurely opens it knowing it’s probably a reminder for a meeting. he’s found it hard to arrive at his events on time even with a temporary assistant assigned to him. the latest one wasn’t as sharp and attentive as you, which he found irritating. he really misses you.

the message that laid before his eyes almost made his heart drop.

EMAIL 8:35 PM

SUBJECT: RESIGNATION LETTER

author’s note: this was long…plus i recycled some dialogue bc school’s kicking me in the ass and i couldn’t form coherent stuff for that. i will compensate for that…with another fic…

taglist: @dcgoddess @1mawh0re @davvydobrik @ilunapb @hesvoid3434 @heartrot666

part one part two part three part five

#bill skarsgard imagine #vincent de gramont #vincent de gramont x reader #marquis de gramont #marquis de gramont x reader #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard x reader #bill skarsgard gif #bill skarsgard fanfiction #bill skarsgard icons #john wick #oneshot #john wick four #john wick fic #keanu reeves #yandere #obsessive #yandere x reader #yearning

[velvainee]

✦ ⎯⎯ ㅤִㅤ ୭ 𝑡𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑏𝑢𝑛𝑛𝑦 ( dr.wick x reader )

ᨳ ꒰ précis ꒱. oneshot. In 2236, Dr. John Wick leads "Wick Industries" in human experiments to extend life and youthfulness. But behind the facade of progress, test subjects like you are unknowingly involved, their consent ignored.

୨ৎ warnings. manhandling, non-con, forced relationship, breeding, evil intent, large age gap, p in v, blackmailing, mentions of blood, torture, bdsm, size kink. dead dove. do not eat. 2.6k words.

𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟, this is my first fic on this blog ! please excuse any mistakes and lmk if you like it, reblogs comments & likes are very appreciated! if you have any requests for another fic don’t be afraid to reach out. ( has not been proof read ) !

As you step into the sterile corridors of Wick Industries, the faint hum of machinery fills the air, a constant reminder of the scientific endeavors unfolding within. It's 2236, an era where the boundaries between progress and ethical considerations blur into a murky haze.

You find yourself here not out of choice, but out of dire necessity, your financial woes pressing upon you like a weighty burden. Volunteering as a blood donor is your ticket to survival, a means to secure the funds desperately needed to support your ailing mother and keep a roof over your head.

You needed the money, your mother's illness draining your savings faster than you could replenish them, while the relentless march of automation threatened your livelihood in the retail sector.

With each passing day, the gap between what you earned and what you needed widened, leaving you with little recourse but to turn to unconventional means to make ends meet.

A giant in the industry, Wick Industries looms large in the landscape of scientific research, its reputation as a leader in biomedical advancements drawing both admiration and scrutiny.

When news broke of their call for volunteers to participate in cutting-edge experiments aimed at extending human youth, you saw it as an opportunity—a chance to alleviate your financial woes while contributing to the greater good. Little did you know the true cost of admission into this world of scientific ambition and moral ambiguity.

Entering the facility, you're greeted by the sight of a bustling lobby, volunteers milling about in varying states of anticipation and apprehension.

The air is charged with nervous energy, a palpable undercurrent of uncertainty running through the crowd as each individual grapples with their own reasons for being there.

At the registration desk, you join the queue, your heart pounding in your chest as you inch closer to the counter.

The old woman behind the desk is brisk and efficient, her voice a steady rhythm in the cacophony of voices around you.

“Next,” she called out, an old woman behind the counter waved her hand, urging you to move forward.

“ID?” She spoke. Your hands making their way into your little pink hand bag as they shuffled to take out your wallet, waiting for the nod of approval before tucking your things back into your purse.

“Third door down the hallway to the left,” she directed.

Guided by her directions, you navigate through the maze-like corridors of the facility, the sterile environment and the click of your heels against the polished floors adding to the surreal atmosphere.

The waiting room is a sea of faces, each one bearing the weight of their own struggles and uncertainties, their eyes betraying a mixture of hope and trepidation.

As you take your seat among the other volunteers, you can't help but feel a sense of camaraderie tinged with unease. The steady stream of departures catches your attention, prompting a question to the person beside you.

“Why are people leaving?” You ask.

Their answer, though matter-of-fact, does little to assuage your growing apprehension.

“I hear the doctors are looking for a specific blood type within the volunteers,” the man next to you replied, his eyes going back to the bright screen of the phone he held.

Amidst the ebb and flow of volunteers, two figures emerge, their presence commanding attention as they make their way down the line of chairs. The older man's piercing gaze sends a shiver down your spine, while his companion's whispered exchange only serves to heighten your sense of foreboding.

When they finally reach you, the weight of their scrutiny feels suffocating.

The bearded man leans in to murmur something inaudible into his assistants ear, the man’s eyes flicker in your direction.

“Her,” he whispers slightly, their eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary.

As their stares bore into yours, the man’s assistant gestures for you to stand, and you comply, feeling a mixture of curiosity and trepidation. With a barely perceptible nod from the older man, they lead you away from the crowd, down a series of sterile corridors lined with gleaming metal doors.

Down the labyrinthine corridors you go, each step bringing you closer to the unknown. The air grows colder, the atmosphere thick with anticipation and trepidation. What awaits you behind those imposing doors remains a mystery, one that gnaws at the edges of your consciousness with relentless persistence.

Finally, you come to a stop before a nondescript door, its surface devoid of any indication of what lies beyond. With a silent exchange, the older man and his assistant confer, their words lost to you in the deafening silence of the corridor.

As the door slides open, revealing a sterile room bathed in harsh fluorescent light, you steel yourself for what comes next.

Alone in the room with these enigmatic figures, you can't help but feel a sense of trepidation. Their welcoming smiles offer little comfort, their words ringing hollow against the backdrop of uncertainty that looms over you like a dark cloud.

"Welcome," the man with the clipboard begins, his voice a mere whisper in the vast emptiness of the room. "My name is Dr. David. Thank you for volunteering,”

As the assistant quietly slips out of the room, leaving you alone with Dr. John Wick, a sense of unease settles over you like a heavy blanket. Yet, in his presence, there's a strange calmness that washes over you, his reassuring smile and soothing voice momentarily easing the knots of tension in your stomach.

"Please, have a seat," he gestures towards a chair, his tone gentle yet authoritative. You comply, sinking into the plush cushion as he takes a seat across from you, his piercing gaze never leaving yours.

"Let me assure you, you're in good hands here," he begins, his voice smooth as silk. "Wick Industries is at the forefront of groundbreaking research, and your participation in our experiments is invaluable."

Despite his words, a nagging feeling of apprehension lingers at the back of your mind, a whisper of doubt that refuses to be silenced. Yet, you push it aside, clinging to the hope that perhaps this is just the opportunity you've been waiting for.

“I’m Dr. Wick—but please, call me John,” He gives you a charming grin once more, reaching out his hand for you to shake.

As he continues to speak, his words seem to fade into the background, your focus shifting to the way the harsh fluorescent light casts shadows across his angular features.

“Tell me about yourself,” he speaks up once more, trying to strike a conversation with his patient.

There's something magnetic about him, something that draws you in despite your better judgment.

“There’s not really much to me,” you chuckle softly, a pink shade flushing against your cheeks.

“I work in retail—heard of the small cafe Allure? Im a barista,” you say bluntly, as if you were having a normal conversation with your friend.

“Ah really?” John turns to you, his brown eyes boring into yours. “I’ll have to try it sometime, I’ve never been,” he revealed.

Your conversation starts to become more intimate, sort of like you’re speaking to a therapist.

"You're special, you know," he murmurs, his voice low and intimate. "There's something about you that sets you apart from the others."

A flush creeps up your neck at his words, a warmth spreading through you that has nothing to do with the temperature of the room. His proximity is intoxicating, his presence commanding yet strangely comforting.

“People don’t usually say that about me,” you scoff, rolling your eyes, yet you felt cared for, embracing the feeling of praise.

“A shame for such a pretty girl like you,” He jokes, rubbing his chin with his fingers.

You find yourself hanging onto his every word, his charisma and intelligence captivating you in a way you never expected.

As he shares stories of his past achievements and future aspirations, you can't help but feel a sense of admiration for the man before you.

But beneath the surface, there's a tension that simmers, a palpable electricity that crackles in the air between you. You can sense the shift in his demeanor, the subtle change in the way he looks at you, as if seeing you for the first time.

As the conversation lulls, he rises from his seat, his movements fluid and purposeful. With a slight smile, he disappears into the adjacent room, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Minutes pass, the silence broken only by the soft hum of machinery in the distance. And then, he reappears, a small vial in his hand.

"I've prepared something to help ease the discomfort during the blood extraction process," he explains, his tone reassuring. "It's a simple elixir, but it should make the experience more bearable."

You nod, accepting the vial with a mixture of gratitude and apprehension. As you raise it to your lips, you can't help but wonder what exactly is in the concoction he's given you.

But the pain of the extraction process looms large in your mind, overshadowing any doubts or reservations you may have.

With a deep breath, you swallow the elixir in one swift motion, its taste bitter and metallic against your tongue. And then, as the liquid courses through your veins, a wave of dizziness washes over you, your vision blurring at the edges.

You reach out for support, but John is already there, his strong arms catching you before you hit the ground.

Your head throbs, the sensation reverberating through your ears as you grimace in pain, your face contorted in a grimace as you watch the overhead lights flicker rapidly.

Panic surges within you, your heart racing as you realize your arms are restrained above your head, the cold metal of the cuffs biting into your skin. Your feet barely brush against the worn tiles below.

"What the hell?!" you exclaim, your voice trembling with fear. Memories elude you, leaving you disoriented and bewildered.

Surveying your surroundings, you find yourself in a stark white room, its pristine walls offering no solace. A single door stands in the corner, ominous in its silence as you hang suspended in the center, the flickering lights casting eerie shadows across the sterile space.

Suddenly, the door creaks open, revealing Dr. John Wick as he steps into the room. Clad in gloves and his white coat, he exudes an unsettling air of authority as a wave of realization washes over you.

"What's happening?!" you demand, your voice trembling with uncertainty as fear grips you tightly.

"Hush now," John soothes, his voice calm and measured as he approaches you.

Despite your frantic struggles against the chains, he moves closer, his hand deftly manipulating a remote control in his grasp. With a click, the chains lower, the sound of metal clanking echoing in the sterile room as your body descends.

“I didn’t lie about how you were special,” he smiles creepily, now eye level with the man as he lifts your chin slightly.

“We just need to text you for some experiments, nothing too big,” he added, hot tears already brimming your waterline.

“P-Please get me out this isn’t what I signed up for—“ You whined, your wrists still trying to undo the chains that bound them together.

“I’m sorry but I cannot do that. You’ll be my little test bunny for today, is that alright with you, love?” He chuckled softly.

You shriek, tears already streaming down your cheeks as John’s fingers stroke against your jawline.

“You wouldn’t want to let your poor mother die now, would you?” He whispered, leaning into your ears as you grit your teeth, jaw clenching.

“Your mother has been transferred to a better hospital—under my industry. Resist and you die, let me use you this once and I’ll ensure your mother’s safety,” he’d add.

Before you are able to say anything, he grabs a handkerchief from his pocket, wrapping it around your head.

Your body stops shaking, your mother was at risk and you were unable to do anything.

He first took a knife from the steel cart that was placed against the wall across from where you were, his movements precise as you felt your clothing slither from your body, down your legs and eventually onto the ground.

Unable to resist, you stood there, crying, your makeup making marks on your cheeks as you shuddered from the embarrassment you felt as you were exposed to the older man.

“So young, so beautiful,” his voice tantalizing as he admired your curves, his hands starting to graze against your skin, the goosebumps visible from your fear.

“Don’t be afraid, it’s only procedures,” he teased, before pushing the button on his remote once more, your body lowering down as you gazed up at the man like a dog.

His fingers made their way under your chin, lifting them up slightly before he slowly undid the handkerchief.

“Please don’t scream, you’ll only make it harder for yourself,” he rambled, his lips now pressing against yours as you moaned in both surprise and disgust.

His tongue swirled with yours, the both fighting for dominance as he held your jaw in one hand, the other one starting to undo his pants.

John’s eyes glinted with a cold detachment as he advanced towards you, his movements deliberate and predatory.

“I promise, you’ll like it,” he drawled, his voice dripping with arrogance as he surveyed your trembling form.

You tried to protest, but the words caught in your throat as he pinned you against the wall, his hands rough and possessive as they roamed over your body.

“Don’t fight it,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your earlobe as he leaned in close.

“Resistance is futile.”

You could feel the heat of his breath against your skin, sending shivers down your spine despite the fear that gripped your soul.

“Please,” you whispered, but the desperation in your voice only seemed to amuse him.

With a smirk, he silenced you with a bruising kiss, his lips crushing yours with a ruthless intensity that left you gasping for air.

And as he claimed you as his own, you found yourself surrendering to him completely, your body a playground for his darkest desires. Each touch sent shockwaves of pleasure and pain coursing through your veins, your cunt throbbing with a mixture of agony and ecstasy.

But amidst the chaos, there was something else - a twisted kind of love that dared not speak its name.

“You like that, don’t you?” he taunted, his voice dripping with malice as he watched you squirm beneath him.

You moaned in response, unable to deny the twisted pleasure that his touch ignited within you.

With a guttural grunt, John released his load deep inside your cunt, his cock throbbing with the force of his climax. Your walls clenched around him, milking every last drop of pleasure from his pulsating shaft as he claimed you as his own.

“Take it, you filthy whore,” he spat, his voice dripping with disdain as he buried himself inside you.

“You like being used, don’t you?”

You moaned in response, unable to deny the twisted pleasure that his rough treatment ignited within you.

Each thrust was a reminder of your submission, a testament to the depths of your depravity.

As he reached his peak, his grip on you tightened, leaving bruises in his wake as he marked you as his property.

“There we go little bunny,” he sneered, his words a cruel echo of the pleasure that coursed through your veins.

And as he finally pulled away, leaving you empty and spent, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction. In his arms, there was no room for love or tenderness, only the raw, unbridled passion of two souls consumed by darkness.

♡ 𝑡𝚑𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑑

#keanu x reader #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves imagines #keanu reeves fanfictions #keanu reeves ff #John wick x reader #John wick x you #John wick roleplay #John wick rp #John wick fanfictions #John wick imagines #John wick ff #John wick fic #keanu reeves fic #fanfictions #fanfic #writing #John wick #keanu reeves #John wick 4 #imagines

[smuttyfantasyrecs]

John Wick

🦋 alone together 🦋

@ficsnroses

🦋 compliant 🦋

@thatfanficstuff

🦋 can it wait 🦋

@reevesdriver

🦋 bedroom window 🦋 wedding bells 🦋 burning desire 🦋

@fanficsrusz

🦋 dirty little secret 🦋

@fics-not-tragedies

🦋 santa baby 🦋

@fortheloveoffanfic

🦋 I licked it so it's mine 🦋

@ladyreapermc

🦋 motorcycle man 🦋

@keanuvibe

🦋 worn out 🦋

@iworshipkeanureeves

#john wick imagine #john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick imagines #john wick oneshot #john wick fanfic #john wick fanfiction #john wick fluff #john wick fic #john wick x y/n #john wick smut #john wick story #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves

[sstrxnges]

Hear me out… john wick, sex pollen fic… if it doesn’t exist already, it should.

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick smut #john wick fic

[red-pill-blue-pill]

Keanu Reeves masterlist

John Wick

Don’t fear the reaper.

Summary: It's nice to find someone to come back to but what happens when they leave.

Warnings: Angst

Fortis Fortuna Adiuvat.

Summary: She arrived to the assassins world scared and confused but thankfully he was there to console her.

Warnings: Angst, fluff.

Part 1, Part 2

Night thoughts.

Summary: John goes over every core memory of you.

Warnings: none

I can feel it.

Summary: Your week is a total wreck and John takes care of you.

Warnings: anxiety attack, angst

The best of the class.

Summary: You cross paths with the Ruska Roma's womanizer.

Warnings: smut

Part 1, Part 2

I’d be jealous of your love

Summary: Sweet mornings with John.

Warnings: none

Road trip.

Summary: You and john go on a road trip to Italy.

Warnings: eventual smut in part 2

Part 1 , Part 2  (forever hiatus)

Jack Traven

I’ll try

Summary: After a long stressful week Jack appears to save the day

Warnings: None

Keanu Reeves

Talk to me

Summary: You work as assistant director in the John Wick 3 set and everything is quite shitty in your personal life.

Warnings: Body shaming (your coworkers shame you because of your weight so if it’s triggering for you please don’t risk it. You are all beautiful no matter what), angst.

I’ll take you with me.

Summary: In the orphanage everyday was hell, then he arrived. 

Warnings: Child abuse!!!!

Just to make you happy.

Summary: She’s homeless and Keanu helps her out.

Warnings: swearing, violence.

Is this a dream?

Summary: You'd never thought interviewing your crush would turn out this way

Warnings: none

Ted logan

You gave me a reason.

Summary: After years of battling illness Ted's there to hold your hand as you say goodbye

Warnings: angst

#ignore this post #I'm just tidying up a bit #keanu reeves fic #keanu reeves x reader #john wick x reader #john wick fic #ted logan x reader #Jack traven x reader #jack traven fic #ted logan fic

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet 🖤 a yandere!john wick x fem!reader coffee shop sunshine/grump au

Table of Contents

something sweet

burned

the cougar

the mountain

lamb in the lion's den

avenging angel

the book thief

joyride

pest

drunk text

mondo piccolo

la dolce vita

vino veritas

kitten

walk of shame

bad girl

got u

war and peace

crime and punishment

lost and found

bound for hell

deal with the devil

show me your teeth

bully

knots

breaking point

surprise

haunted

lady of the daisies

say something

run

tbc...

#decided to make a chapter map... #john wick #keanu reeves #john wick fic #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves x reader #yandere! john wick #yandere john wick #bittersweet john wick imagine

[meetmeinthematinee]

Oh Hey, remember I used to write John Wick stuff?

Check out my Masterlist!

Guaranteed no spoilers for Wick 4 since....I haven't written anything in quite a while but I've been eyeballing my WIPS again my friends and maybe just maybe......

#John Wick Fanfic #John Wick Fanfiction #John Wick x Helen #John Wick Fic #john wick smut

[fics-not-tragedies]

January 2024 Music Prompts: Day 8

For Your Love ♫ Måneskin

For Your Love ♫ Måneskin x John Wick

I wanna be the first man you look at tonight/I wanna be stuck in your head and make you go wild.

John found himself in the busy city streets, chasing the rhythm of the night. As the neon lights flickered above him, he felt a magnetic pull that drew him into a lively club where the beats of the music echoed through the air.

As he entered the pulsating room, John found himself surrounded by a sea of faces, all lost in the pulse of the music and the lure of the night. The energy was electrifying and he decided to immerse himself in the crowd and surrender to the magic of the moment.

At that moment, he saw you -  a vision in the dim light, your eyes mirroring the rhythm of the music. The world around him seemed to fade away as your eyes met and there was an unspoken understanding between them.

"I wanna be the first man you look at tonight," John thought, captivated by the magnetic connection that transcended the bustling chaos of the club.

As the music enveloped you, John decided to navigate the sea of bodies, each step bringing him closer to the mystery that was you. The pulsating beat of the music served as a backdrop to your silent dance - a dance where glances spoke volumes, and the energy between you became a force of its own.

Your paths finally converged on the crowded dance floor. John, with a confident yet easygoing demeanor, extended his hand, inviting you into their shared rhythm. Your eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief, accepted his invitation, and you both became two strangers bound by the spell of the music.

In the dance's ebb and flow, John felt a desire to be more than just a passing glance in the night - a desire to make a lasting impression on you, who had become the focal point of his evening.

"I wanna be stuck in your head and make you go wild," he thought, his movements mirroring the magnetic energy between you two.

While they danced, the world outside the club ceased to exist. It was a dance that transcended the physical, a celebration of shared energy and unspoken connections. The beats of the music echoed the rhythm of your hearts, creating a symphony of lust that pulsed through the air.

With every turn and every swing, John and you entered a shared realm - a space where time seemed to expand and contract, where the magnetic pull between you grew stronger with every step.

As the music reached its crescendo, you and John found yourselves on the edge of the dance floor, breathless and connected in a way that was hard to capture in words. The night had become a canvas and your dance together a masterpiece, painted with the brushstrokes of desire and shared energy.

As the final notes echoed through the club, John looked into your eyes, a silent question lingering between you two. Without a word, you leaned in, your lips meeting his in a dance of their own - a dance that spoke of the unspoken, of desire that had transcended the boundaries of a crowded club.

"I wanna be the first man you look at tonight," John whispered against your lips, "I wanna be stuck in your head and make you go wild."

In that moment, beneath the neon lights and the pulsating beats, John and you sealed your connection. The night had become a tapestry woven with the threads of desire and shared glances, and as you stepped into the city's embrace, the echoes of your shared dance lingered in the air - a melody that would resonate in their hearts long after the night surrendered to the dawn.

#january 2024 music prompts #music prompts #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #imagine #drabble #john wick fanfiction #john wick fanfic #john wick fic #john wick imagine #john wick drabble #keanu reeves fanfiction #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves fic #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves drabble #john wick x reader #john wick x you #prompt fics

[pink3princess19]

dark john wick hc

cw/tw: jw x reader; stalker behavior, obsession, kidnapping; sensitive topics like this so if it makes you uncomfortable at all please don't read

an: I BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE

masterlist

before

the silent type

wont come up to you, wont approach you, he just follows you everywhere

bouqets of flowers, expensive chocolates, and jewelry left at your doorstep

i'd imagine that when your not at home (or when ur sleeping) he goes through some of your stuff

theres a box under his bed filled with pictures of you along with little things he's stolen from your home over time

he loves the smell of your perfume, so much so that he found and bought the same scent that you use and smells it all the time;

he'll even spray it on his bed at night (im just realizing how sick in the head i am)

one day he might take you

if you were about to move away or something, he would start panicking, thinking that you were leaving him, and it just wasn’t safe, so now he has to take you

after

he’ll give you time to get used to him, he’s a very patient person

when you finally start warming up to him, he'll buy you gifts here and there (he's causing psychological warfare IN THIS HOUSE)

after being with you for a long time, insists that you wear a wedding ring ( vvv expensive might I add)

i feel like after a while, you would get bored at the house, he would let you do anything you wanted, as long as you didn't leave'

if you wanted to take an online cooking class he would be like :) yay!

I think there’s a sense of altruism to him; he would be over the moon if you could love him back, but even if you don’t he'll still be there

(or he continues to convince himself that you just need some more time)

he has very conflicted feelings about how close he'll allow himself to be near you

sometimes he'll realize he needs to give you your space

and other times he’s just so tired of being alone, he’ll just follow you around the house or cuddle with you in your bed

vvv cuddly

when you finally start warming up to him, he tries so hard not to push your boundaries but what's a touch starved lonely trauma ridden assassin suppose to do

#john wick #john wick x reader #jw x reader #john wick fic #john wick fluff #john wick yandere #stalker john wick #john wick x gn!reader #john wick x y/n #john wick x you #dark john wick

[97keanu]

hi, I was wondering if you could write something about John wick and the reader being super cutesie and having a self care night where they have a fun little bubble bath and do some skin care to relax after a long day 👤

I love this so much! They deserve a night of rest after all they go through <3!

John Wick x Reader

Tags: pure fluff, bathing together, face masks, bubble bath, some mentions of blood(bloody knuckles, minor cuts and bruises) but nothing outside of typical john wick universe and extremely tame in comparison, loving!John, tender!John

It's another one of those nights where John comes home and as soon as he walks in the door you know it's been a long night already. You don't ask much where the money comes from, but from the state of his bloody knuckles and the bruises and cuts on his face, you have decided you don't want to know the details.

You get a bowl of ice water ready for his hands, and go to the bathroom to grab the well stocked first aid kit you keep around for times like these. John doesn't even say anything, just sets up at one of the stools by the kitchen island and begins dipping his bloody knuckles in, wincing only slightly. You come back in and sit on the stool next to him, beginning to wipe up his cuts on his face with an alcohol pad that is astringent to the senses. You almost associate the smell with him at this point. John looks into your eyes, and you're not quite sure what he's thinking. You never are. He's a silent man, despite this, you know he cares for you deeply. You can tell from how he treats you, how he touches you, like now, where he's putting the hand not in the ice bowl on your thigh and giving it a gentle squeeze. He keeps boring deeply into your eyes with his dark brown ones, before sighing and speeching gruffly.

"I think it's time for a vacation..." He speaks out, nodding as if trying to convince you, or maybe himself?, that he deserves the time off.

You nod back, continuing to white a particularly dirty and deep cut before applying triple antibiotic and placing a bandaid over it.

"I think that would be really nice, John." You say simply, your voice soft, but your hands and head focused on fixing him up. Even though John's line of work obviously takes the greatest toll on him, that much evident by how often he comes home tore up in various ways, it also takes a toll on you. The worry, the wonder if he just won't come home this time.

Loving John Wick is like loving a stray dog. You never know what happens out there in the streets, but you leave the light on and some food out hoping he will continue to come back to you.

John can see you're still so focused on him, and he takes both your hands into his huge ones, gently holding them, and forcing your attention to his eyes and what he's saying.

"I know I worry you...I hope you know it's because I want a better life for you...for us." He's told you this a million times, and you know his line of work is why you two can live in a penthouse in New York, have a lavish lifestyle, anything you could ever want to own at your finger tips. But sometimes it feels like a gilded cage, since you can rarely go out and live with out worrying about looking over your shoulder. John doesn't really allow you out without him, he says you're his weakness. The one thing that can end him if anything were to happen to you. And you know that you would be an easy target, you're not like John, you can't defend yourself as well as he can, even though he does try to give you as many sparring lessons as possible, just in case.

"I know, John...I am always grateful for you and all that you've given me..." You squeeze his hands, your eyes softening as you really look at the man you love.

"That's why I'm taking some time off. To be with you..." John pulls you closer until you're out of your stool, and turned around so you can sit on his lap. He snuzzles into the crook of your neck, his beard tickling you a bit, his lips soft on your skin there. He continues to speak into your neck.

"I love you so much...I want to make sure I'm spending time with you, real time, time you don't have to worry about anything..." You can tell from how he's speaking he also wants this for himself, but he wouldn't ever admit that he needs this break as much as you. He holds you for a while before the two of you continue your night...

✧✧✧

Once John is officially on "vacation" from his job, he is like a different man. Today, he came home with roses, a bottle of champagne, and a bag full of goodies. The best present he gave you today however, was his smile when he walked in that door. Seeing him happy to come home instead of weary and bloody was enough, everything else was just icing on the cake.

Tonight, he has prepared dinner, your favorite dish, and after you two are done dining, he takes you by the hand and softly pulls you past the bedroom and into the master bath.

One thing you love about this apartment is its massive bathtub that over looks the city skyline. John runs the bath first, the tub getting steamy.

John dims the lights and begins placing candles, a small chuckle as he does so.

"I hope it isn't cheesy, the candles, the rose petals..." He says as he reaches into a basket he has some of the goodies he bought today in and throws a hand full of rose petals at you playfully, before tossing more into the bath, and bath bomb that turns the water a light pink. You laugh back, loving seeing him in this playful mood.

He returns to you, and comes behind you, kissing up your neck to your cheek, before planting a long, passionate kiss on your lips. He slowly drags your shirt up before discarding it on the floor, slowly unbuttoning your bra and dropping it to the floor. He isn't a man to half ass anything, so he finishes undressing you until you're completely bare in front of him, the bathroom air a bit chilly on your bare skin. He uses his large hands to give you the best feeling back rub, and you can't help but to hum, pleased from the feeling.

"There's more where came from..." He whispers softly in your ear, easily picking you up and placing you in the tub gently, the warm water so nice and relaxing.

You watch as John undresses himself before setting the basket on the side of the tub, and settling into the water beside you. You're hands are playing with the rose petals as he continues.

"I thought we could both use a bit of a face mask..." He says before pulling out an expensive looking jar. He undoes the cap, and moves closer to you in the water, taking two fingers to dip into the jar and put a light blue translucent jell onto your face. It has a deep cooling effect, contrasting the heat of the bath.

"Oh! It's so cold!" You exclaim as he continues you gently rub it into your face, he's actually really precise with his movements, sure of himself. He chuckles lightly at your reaction.

"That's what the jar said it would do, do you like it?" He tilts his head, looking at you with curiosity. You nod.

"Yes, it feels quite nice...can I do you?" You say as he finishes up and rinses his hands in the steamy pink water. It smells divine in this tub as well, the bath bomb really doing the trick.

"Of course, my love..." He says, one of his pet names for you coming out. You gently rub the face mask onto him, and you feel so relieved to be touching his face in this way instead of cleaning up bloody cuts as usual. You really did need this...

"How do I look?" John says with a giggle when you're done, he is such a "manly" man, but despite that he is incredibly tender and shy even, with you. It melts your heart when you can see this side of him. You move closer in the hot, bubbly water and lean into him, the feeling of his skin touching yours giving you goosebumps.

"You look like you're Spa Day ready..." You say softly. John leans and grabs something else from the basket, and you can see its a very high quality champagne. He makes two glasses for the two of you and hands you one.

You sip the sweet, bubbly drink and relax into him, the steam of the bath making every one of your muscles go jelly. You're grateful for moments like these.

John massages your shoulders gently as you sit in front of him, running kisses along your back and neck every so often. It feels like heaven. Eventually you both just lean into each other, your naked bodies so relaxed and soft against one another, enjoying this moment.

#john wick x reader #john wick x f!reader #john wick fan fic #john wick fic #john wick #my writing #asks

[twistedbloodstain]

could you please write a marquis fanfic where the reader is Akira’s sister and Vincent kidnaps her in hopes to lure John wick but he ends up just falling in love with her 😭

vincent de gramont x reader: i’d live and die for moments that we stole | words and wind.

plot: the one where you entered his estate in chains but left his home with his heart.

warning: lots of threats from mr. gramont here, one sided love, unrequited love, forced proximity but the force is him, akira’s sister!reader, dutiful reader, vincent winning the idgaf war a little too much here

masterlist

part two

a stroke of pain slowly goes through your temples, you wince. remembering how you accidentally hit your head on the floor when one of the guards had scampered on you when you tried to flee him, that’s when you realized that the marquis had no intention of negotiating with you.

it’s not often that you end up with situations like these, especially with how generous and thoughtful your terms had been with the marquis. you’ve gone through worse terms and even worser odds of successful negotiations, you just hadn’t realized what a fucking animal he was. for this to happen is surely a jab on your pride.

a metal clink rings through the room, a heavy and thick chain bound to your ankle. it was starting to cramp your leg with how large the chain was, you had half a mind to saw it out of your body because you feared that it might’ve lost function with how numb it was starting to feel.

the door opens and you look up. you don’t see anything or anyone right away with how dark it was. you had little to no source of light due to the current state of the night. it was pitch black and the only source of light you had was through the small window so far up the wall during the day.

but you don’t need to see to know who came through the door. it was the marquis, ever since your capture he had visited you in random times of the night to “negotiate.” which fueled your hatred for him due to him disturbing your sleep.

luckily, you’ve been expecting him.

a light bulb suddenly turns on which weakly illuminates the room, the luminescence was patchy but it was a welcoming sight to you. finally, you could see your prison.

you look up to him, still sat on the floor. it takes all your strength to not to lurch at him in anger even with the fact that his guards could easily deflect your attack and lead you somewhere worse.

the room you found yourself in was thankfully, clean. it was the size of a prison cell though, they did give you sufficient enough food but sometimes you had refused them out of lividness.

the small room seemed even smaller with the current person occupying it, the marquis’ height was staggering to behold and you had to admit it was intimidating at first.

all his aggressive and intimidation seemed nothing to your fury and determination as of now. it had all melted the moment he locked you in a cell which you assumed meant to drive you to compliance or insanity. he had another thing coming if he thought that one of shimazu’s children would bend to his fucking will.

“this is unacceptable and cruel, mademoiselle. i have recently received this unfavorable news from the tokyo continental. i found it important to share this with you immediately.” he speaks up then pauses. you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at this as you look into his eyes in disbelief.

he’s playing a new game with you again. a futile attempt for compliance but you’re not sure he knows it. did he think you were stupid and naive?

“after the recent assumptions of your capture, i had informed him of the new terms we agreed to…for a certain excommunicated individual, yet my informants say he has refused to comply even with the threat of his beloved daughter..being killed.” he continues when he notices that you had rolled your eyes at that. “he claims that you would’ve never agreed to it, we disagree with that don’t we, mademoiselle?” he mockingly asks.

you hadn’t agreed, which is precisely why you’re locked up in a cemented cage in the middle of nowhere. you had expected him to be courteous and polite as a representative of the table but you should’ve also expected that he wouldn’t be lenient with you.

“what kind of father abandons his daughter to die? not a good one, i suppose.” he taunts, “i have no idea how you must feel, anger probably. even under that facade you have-“

“lies have always come easy to you. does it?” you interrupt him.

this makes a corner of his lips tug, a smirk almost forming in the process.

“i have something for you.” he announces, you see a small box in his hand as he makes his way to you. you carefully eye him in hesitation as he kneels in front of you.

“anger too, you don’t seem the type to forgive and forget, everyone but me seems to know that.” you continue.

“in this world we live in, forgiveness should have no place in our hearts and forgetting is simply ignorance with different letters.” he replies as he sets the box down next to you.

“but concern, care and innocence…you’re not very good at that are you?” you finish in false pondering.

he chuckles at your words before replying to your statement, “you don’t seem to be alright. perhaps we can speak again when you are feeling much better?”

“we both know you did this, you are at fault for this and it amuses you to play with the lie that my father has forsaken me but i bet that he doesn’t even know about these terms you’ve offered, tell me what exactly were you trying to achieve?”

“i know that question is rhetorical but i will answer that for your enlightenment. accept the terms and you can finally go home. invite him to the continental under the guise of safe conduct and kill him, your father is acquainted with him, he will have his guard down.” he states matter of factly, you scoff at this.

“yes, i would finally go home. only to lead my family to fucking die, we both know what you’re asking from us. even if my father’s sentiments were put aside, we cannot kill him.” you urge him, “the moment he realizes our folly, my family is as good as buried.”

“my men will be present the moment he enters the establishment, you have nothing to fear. get your father to comply so we may finally get rid of him.”

“and how many men are you willing to offer?”

“sixty, but ten should be able to suffice. they’re quite proficient in their craft.”

“ten men or sixty, it matters little. they’ll be dead.” you scoff.

“your father won’t be the only old friend he’ll be seeing. i assume, you know caine?”

you quiet as you take that information in, you realized how desperate the high table must be to have john wick dead and how your family will be the one to pay the price for his death, which will surely be another insignificant number of dead people for them.

“having second thoughts, mademoiselle?” he eagerly inquires.

“with all due respect, i have to refuse you. accepting your terms puts a target on my family, i cannot risk that.” you disclose.

the marquis frowns, his eyes full of disappointment and displeasure from your answer. you presume that he must be on his way to leave you again, only to return in the middle of the night with another set of flowery words and false pretenses of remorse.

he suddenly yanks the chain strapped on your ankle and you yelp in pain, the skin wrapped around your bones is definitely sore and bruising. you’re pulled closer to him, you feel fear and fury fighting for control with the situation you’re facing.

“i have been too kind to you, mademoiselle. i hoped that my kindness to you would help you find common cause with me, it has failed and it will never work i finally see. i have a new proposal to make.” he grits out as he keeps his eyes on you, “get your father to follow the high table’s orders or they die. your father and sister, both. if you refuse to, rest assured i will send their heads to you.” he threatens.

he gets back up on his feet as he watches you take the information in while he slips his hand into his pocket, you hold back the cry that was boiling under your throat and your tears that were trying to escape the corner of your eyes. you look away from him, knowing that he noticed your current state of emotions but you can’t afford to feel weak and see his reaction out of it at the same time.

you wince inside with how pathetic you feel right now.

“perhaps that will give you a new answer to offer to me.” he taunts again, you promise to yourself that once you got out of here, he was fucking dead. one way or another he would be lifeless on the ground and it would be because of you.

“get out.” you whisper.

“finally, have you found your voice?”

“i said get out, you hateful bitch!” you scream at him, hurling the wooden box at him.

pieces of paper and stationery explode on the floor and you clench your jaw in anger at his statement.

“call out when you finally have an answer. hopefully, it is a letter to your father about your acquiescence.” he mutters as he makes his way to the door.

you lean back and sigh, finally letting a stray tear fall down your cheek.

you carefully watch the doctor inspect your ankle, you’re currently reclined on a soft loveseat placed in the middle of the elegantly furnished room. the marquis has taste you had to admit, though his home looked more like a palace than somewhere you’d relax.

you sigh to yourself, still annoyed that you were still in your prison. a lovelier one compared to the previous room but still a prison. you had given in to his demands, sooner or later john wick was entering the territory of the tokyo continental as expected. you had reluctantly written to your father about your agreement to the marquis’ orders, you desperately wanted to write the truth. in your days of isolation, it had only been you and your anger, leaving you to doubt certain aspects of your family.

you expected that your father might’ve been wary about your lengthy absence in france that he might at least send some of his men to come and fetch you yet you had heard nothing of the sort. this led you to doubt your family’s love for you but all these speculations turned to dust the moment the marquis entered the room.

it’s all his doing, you tell yourself.

he must be making it look like the negotiation was going smoothly and that you definitely weren’t locked up in a prison cell somewhere.

all your uncertainties were replaced with plans of malice the moment you had yourself free from the marquis. your long days spending time with yourself helped you formulate a plan to take him down simply because he had detained you.

and threatened to murder your family. it’s not really that petty.

he said it himself, forgiving and forgetting doesn’t exist in this world you both live in. it’s only fair.

of course, he wouldn’t die directly by your hand.

but you know someone that could.

you smile to yourself at the thought of him dead on the floor.

the doors fling open and the devil himself walks in.

you look back to see him, once again dressed impeccably and sophisticated. the marquis gestures his hand and you look back to the doctor who nods when he sees the movement of his hand then leaves.

he really has everyone with the flick of his hand.

he makes his way on the couch across you, embellished with silk and golden patterns dancing around the fabric. the couch creases as he sets himself down on the comfy material.

“i hope everything is to your liking, mademoiselle?” he starts as he leans back into the couch.

“it is, thank you.” you hesitantly thank him.

“no need, the high table rewards obedience and loyalty. sure, you have lost yourself in the earlier stages but it matters little. you have made the right choice.” he smirks at you, you fake a smile at him at his words.

“right.”

“how is your ankle?” he gestures at your limb propped on a footstool.

“better i think.” you speculate.

“that’s lovely to hear, you will need your strength soon. the earlier it heals the better.” he states.

you don’t make a reply out to him, choosing to stay silent. you knew his courtesies were empty as you learned the hard way plus what was there to say to him? you had questions for him but you weren’t sure he was eager to answer them or he reveled in leaving you in the dark, literally or figuratively.

not to mention, you still carried a heavy baggage of anger for him. there was no space for any sort of genuine amenity between the both of you, he had threatened to murder your father and sister, although you knew it was an effort to coerce you to follow his demands but you couldn’t help but feel that they weren’t empty threats.

you knew caine, he was an old friend of john’s and you also knew that the marquis was free to command him where to go and who to kill under the threat of murdering his daughter. you wince at this, as much as you knew that bloodshed often led to messier circumstances, you knew that as long as the marquis lived he could pull that card on you to make you obey.

who knows how much more you would have to sacrifice just to obey his whim? his words left a heavy impact on you, it had plagued you day and night which you anticipate was what the marquis wanted. you had written the letter to your father out of fear for their lives. your fear and fury was balanced, the more fear you felt the more fuel for your fury towards him.

that’s good, you’ll need all of that to get rid of him.

“does that mean i’ll stop being your prisoner?” you raise your eyebrow at him.

“prisoner? you speak of delusions, you are sitting on one of my chairs and staying in my home. you are no prisoner.” he scoffs.

you roll your eyes at him, the first lie always wins but the truth can easily cleanse that out, he can tell people whatever he likes but as long as they know of his nature your story is much more persuasive than his.

“then that means i can go home?” you ponder even if you already know the answer.

“what kind of host lets his guest leave their house injured and alone? certainly not someone like me, i insist you heal and rest.”

“the sooner i go home the sooner we can prepare for john wick’s arrival.” you firmly state.

he always liked to start conversations like this, pleasant courtesies and empty greetings, basically playing dumb.

“your father can prepare on his own, he has another daughter to help him. i wouldn’t worry too much.”

that can’t happen. you planned on seeking john wick yourself as soon as you left, you presumed that your letter might’ve brought you to the good graces of the marquis but you were clearly mistaken. you groan to yourself, your days of captivity had left you out of touch with reality and more opportunistic than before.

“are you serious?”

“i’m afraid i am.”

you want to scream at him again, you know that he’s not keeping you because of how much a gracious host he was. he was keeping you here so your father remains obedient and loyal to the high table. you were leverage, to make your father comply so that he doesn’t turn against them at the last second.

“are you so uncertain of your control that you need to make everyone bend at your will? you have forced me to my knees, what else do you want?” you ridicule him, the marquis frowns at this and rebuts.

“it is merely a precaution, mademoiselle. we must be careful with how we deal with situations like these, as you have learned.”

“my father will need me.” you state.

“you are an emissary, it is not befitting your station.”

“earlier you had this envoy shackled by chains and locked in a cell, you’ll have to be more specific to what is befitting my station.”

“the answer is no.”

you can feel anger bubbling under your skin again, although you did plan to enact your plan of revenge on him. you can’t help but feel rage at his stubbornness. once you finally sought john wick, you planned to help him challenge the marquis in a duel. something the marquis surely can’t refuse, his pride will definitely make him think that he has the upper hand on this but with the history of the excommunicated assassin there is little to no chance he’d be making it out alive.

he’ll probably pull a few unexpected obstacles and tricks to deter john wick but it should be a little nuisance for him, he already came this far. he wouldn’t lose by now.

“you will need all the help you can get when taking him down. it’s specifically why you have enlisted our help.” you convince him. hopefully, that should make him listen. he doesn’t like helping anyone other than himself.

“you sound too eager don’t you?” the marquis questions in suspicion.

“the earlier this is finished the sooner we can get back with our lives.” you smile.

you can shorten your time, all you would need was a few minutes with john to tell him what to do. you could make your way to winston to also help john in taking the marquis down out of vengeance for his recently departed friend and demolished hotel.

all you need to do is leave the marquis’ estate.

he quiets from your statement and sighs in resolve, “fine. i will let you go, i see no reason to refuse your request but you will arrive there with caine the moment john wick is sighted within the tokyo continental, is that understood?”

you grin in victory.

the first piece of his downfall begins.

“but rest assured mademoiselle, if i hear a whisper that you’ve turned against me the tokyo continental will be turned to ashes like the new york’s, with you and your family inside it.” he warns, with mockery and amusement on his lips.

your stomach churns in dread.

taglist: @blsmbr

author’s note: this is supposed to be a one part fic only but tumblr won’t let me copy and paste the entire thing soo…here is part 1 will post again tomorrow. :) i’m currently working on other requests so this should be quick, like and reblog also feel free to request!

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