#John Wick Smut

[ultravioletrayz]

𖤓KINKTOBER '24 M.LIST𖤓

my first ever kinktober!! have fun :)

day one: sensory deprivation w/ simon 'ghost' riley

day two: free use w/ billy butcher

day three: temp play w/ john wick

day four: dry humping w/ kyle 'gaz' garrick

day five: public sex + exhibitionism w/ homelander

day six: cockwarming w/ john price

day seven: phone sex + mutual masturbation w/ tony stark

day eight: glossaphilia w/ venom (+ eddie brock)

day nine: degradation w/ ellie williams

day ten: toys w/ wade wilson

day eleven: size difference w/ könig

day twelve: boot worship w/ soldier boy

day thirteen: edging w/ shiu kong

day fourteen: spanking w/ johnny 'soap' mactavish

day fifteen: somnophilia w/ queen maeve

day sixteen: cum play w/ toji fushiguro

day seventeen: pain kink w/ logan howlett

day eighteen: dirty massage w/ nanami kento

day nineteen: sex in the bath w/ higuruma hiromi

day twenty: HALLOWEEN w/ miguel o'hara

let's all pretend i actually finished this in october

[keravnous]

diet mountain dew; john wick/fem!reader (smut, 18+)

dating john wick - the playlist

The Boogeyman is out to get you. Little does he know, that you too are willing to do quite a bunch of things just to stay alive.

warnings: blood, guns, knives, injuries, physical violence/fighting, assassination attempt; dub-con, rough sex, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (female receiving), choking, dirty talk, spanking, a lot of manhandling bc for the love of god he doesn't know how to be soft anymore, gun kink, knife kink, size kink, strength kink, squirting, body worship if you blink, is this hate-fucking? idk; john has a horse cock change my mind; john is in his 50s, the reader is in her 20s; set somewhere after the series i guess? (I refuse to accept he's dead); problematic family relationship as a plot device; let's all collectively ignore the fact that he would actually never touch another woman or even dare to catch the smallest of feelings again; john gets off on the violence

word count: 10,6 k

thank you mel for a) listening to my ramblings and b) reading a good chunk of the first third of this dumpster fire and still going nuts about it, kissies and thank you v for listening to my keanu ramblings without losing faith in me

You wonder, if praying will help you. Probably not.

The sound of carnage, screams and gunshots in the hallway abruptly stops. You hear the assailant's heavy footsteps echoing off the floorboards outside of your hotel room mere seconds before the door bursts open, flies out of its hinges and rattles to the ground, wood creaking and breaking, splinters flying everywhere.

There had been a hit out on you for two days and every single soldier in your father's militia was ready to defend your life with their own.

Literally. You can tell by the man entering your suite.

You can tell by just how much he is covered in blood. You can tell by the way it drips down his forehead and how it soaks his white shirt - even the soles of his shoes creak with it. You can tell by the way he is totally and utterly drenched in red red red, and because you are certain it is not his.

They literally gave their life for you. The thought hits you like a blow to the head. People have died because of you. Fathers, brothers, sons. You recall your last conversation with your own father. They want us dead, they put out a contract on us - you had never seen him so nervous, so disheveled. What does that mean - his anxiety had been washing over you in seeping hot waves, sending cold shivers down your spine. It means, I need you out of the house - now.

Nausea bubbles in your stomach as the man now approaches you, casually strolls into the suite with his finger on the trigger of the gun dangling from his hand and you stare back at him - a deer in the headlights, frozen by fear in the eyes of its deadly predator. One of your father's men jumps from his cover, fires a shot and gets hit back with one straight between his eyes. It happens so quickly, that you can't turn your head away. You see the bullet piercing his forehead, blood splattering as soon as it exits the skull on the other side. His head flies back a little, and then his body goes limp, slack, as he falls to the ground with a heavy thud.

You want to scream. You want to vomit. You want to run. But there is nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide from him.

There's only one soldier left with you in the suite now and he is hiding around the corner, near the bathroom. The stranger - the assassin, the killer - does not lower the gun again, and does not let his eyes stray from you as he carefully enters the room. You feel terribly exposed, dressed only in your negligée, not daring to move.

Now, that the dim light of the suite's living room strikes his face, you can finally see him, see the man who has come to end you. He is older than you, maybe nearly twice your age, with dark hair and even darker eyes, matching his black suit. Lean and athletic, chest heaving slightly with physical exhaustion. The Boogeyman.

You do not know who or what you had expected, what cruel and dreadful images your brain had conjured up in the past 48 hours - 48 frightful hours of being moved around from hideout to hideout by your father's men, not staying in one place longer than necessary - but it certainly was not that. Not him. He is a lot more handsome than his reputation has led on. Seeing him on the subway around rush hour you would have never suspected him to be in this business. He looks nice. And that is exactly what makes him dangerous.

You have heard his name before. Echoing from the walls. Baba Yaga. Whispered with both: fear and respect. The Boogeyman. Blurted out: like a curse or like a blessing. Mister Wick: like redemption, like damnation. Jonathan, the king's son walking the earth as the devil.

John. The sound of his name is oddly human - disturbingly human - for someone looking as calm and collected, focused and concentrated as he does right now, while being drenched in blood and pointing a gun at you.

You must have said his name out loud, because his eyebrows twitch irritatedly, a movement so quick you barely missed it - must've sound desperate too, then.

Vision zeroing in on the barrel of his gun, your hands clutch the sofa's edge. There is so much adrenaline pumping through your veins right now that it freezes your limbs, has your ears ringing. The only thing responding to your brain fully are your eyes, and they snap away from the gun and over to the remaining soldier. It's a quick look, not even a second, but the hitman seems to recognize it and - with near inhumane speed - flicks his gun, and fires two shots. Blood splatters against the white door as the shots pin the soldier's body against it, and is it finally drops to the ground heavily it leaves a nasty trail, all wet and sticky and red.

Could be you.

You want to scream, but your body does not belong to you anymore, does not respond to your commands. It is a desperate, cruel sound that leaves your throat instead as you flinch with the sound of the gun being fired.

"Let's make this quick" his voice is gravelly and rough, like he has seen a thousand grim things and the pain of it has etched its way into his throat, left a nasty mark on every tone that ever dared to cross after.

That is when your fight or flight suddenly kicks in. Well, more specifically, it kicks in while he is speaking, as he starts to swap the empty clip of his gun.

He underestimates you. Everyone does. Your father, your brother. The countless men lying dead littered across the hotel's 25th floor. It will be his mistake.

You latch forward, grabbing the vase from the coffee table in front of you. The weight of it in your hand drags you down.

With all the strength you can muster, which is quite a lot considering the massive amounts of adrenaline that are currently amping up your body - you throw it at him. It connects with his forehead sharply; a deep, irritated noise bursting from his throat as it crashes, splinters and falls to the floor.

You are braver, braver than you should be as your assault does not end there, your body pushing you forward, leaping over the table and crashing into his broad shoulders.

I will not die today

Body ramming into his, he stumbles, as your fist connects with his chin. You have only been partially trained in hand-to-hand combat, after pleading your brother for months until he eventually gave in. Sadly, he wasn't nearly as thorough and honest with it as he was training his drug dealer and gun runners. But now, it is the only thing you can rely on.

There is nothing else; no one else left alive in that building who might be able to help you. It is up to you. So, you might as well try.

And Oh, does desperation fire up your blood.

I will not die today

The diversion does not last long and he - John John John only human only human only human - grabs you by you waist hard, fingers digging into your flesh and into the expensive silk, before he slams your body into the ground. All air leaves your lungs with a dull sound erupting from your chest, just as pain blooms around your ribs.

You cough and he looks down at you, confusion making his brows twitch, before cold-hearted determination takes over once more. John aims his gun at you once more, pulls back the hammer and you do not even think about it, your leg rising as you kick against his hand. The shot misses, buries itself deep into the expensive carpet a few inches next to your skull. You have no time to do either: panic or sigh in relief; instead, you deliver him a kick to his stomach, fighting yourself back onto your feet, punching him straight in the face.

John grunts and grabs your wrist, but you see it coming and throw yourself into his wide frame, wrapping your other arm around his back and thus hooking it underneath his right shoulder, dislocating his arm and preventing him from aiming his gun at you. You claw onto him as he twists your arm close to his stomach, while you wrap your legs around him, making it harder for John to shake you off.

I will not die today

You kick and dig the heel of your foot into his thighs and the back of his knees and he grunts and buckles a little, but turns wild and relentless quicker than you can blink, throws the two of you into the next wall. You gasp sharply as your back connects with the large mirror, splinters digging into your back - not deep enough to actually cut skin, but it stings nonetheless, the impact making you dizzy.

Sharp pain shoots through your back and your neck, but you are not willing to give up yet, as raw energy and rage and desperation surges through your body - one of your legs coming loose and your knee hitting his stomach repeatedly, making John grunt in pain and you use your momentum to dig your hand deep into his back, holding onto him and then swirling out of the deadlock he has got you in, jumping his back like a monkey.

His gun clatters to the ground and for a split second, the room falls silent. Then, roaring like an animal gone wild, he grabs your calves and slams his back into the nearest wall, has you screaming with the impact. You can feel blood pouring from your nose, feel it trickling down your lips.

I will not die today

John is stronger than you are, so so much stronger - the apex predator: all muscle, unbreakable focus and the sheer will to kill. But you are not only a little quicker; you also really want to stay alive. It is a force he rarely encounters. And quite frankly, it irritates him.

He may be older than you, taller than you and stronger than you but you have something he does not have: you actually still got something to lose.

And you fight like it, too. All scratches and sharp yells, as you punch and scrabble at his shoulders and tear at his tie, trying to strangle him with it. John is struggling against it, gasping for air and winding beneath your assault and then his grip around your claves grows hard like iron, seconds before he pulls - throws you over his head like you weigh nothing. You land on the expensive carpet with a heavy thud - groaning as you crash onto your side with sharp pain shooting through your shoulder, down your ribcage.

I will not die today

John sputters and stumbles forward, looking for his gun but you are quicker, kicking it away with your foot. It clatters back onto and slides over the wooden floorboards.

For a second you consider your choices, fighting yourself back onto your feet but John - a practiced and seasoned fighter - beats you to it and lands a blow to your upper back, sends you back down with him - a mess of sputtering saliva and painful groans. His body topples onto yours and he quickly rolls the two of you over the floor.

John is heavy and warm on top of you, as he keeps you in a tight headlock, your chest pressed to the floor and neck bend in a painful angle. He presses his strong forearm down onto your windpipe and you choke and cough, feet kicking, hands dragging across the wood, clawing at it feebly.

You can feel his breath on your cheek, hot and damp. You can feel his torso pressing against your back as he kneels behind you.

I will not die today

Mustering all your remaining strength, you trash against him, ramming your backside into his stomach. He grunts and for a split second, his grip loosens. It is all you need. Throwing your elbow back, you hit him in the chest and he caves in.

You cough, crawling forward and then scrambling back onto your feet, one of your negligée’s straps falling down your shoulder in the process. You hastily pull it back up, seconds before John launches a cascade of punches onto you.

A few of them hit you as you try to block them; dull pain igniting in your body, blooming in your face and arms. Your breath goes heavy as you stumble backwards. You cannot do this. There is no way. You just physically can't.

He is stronger. Taller. Heavier. Deadlier. Your body and every single muscle, bone, nerve in it aches and you wheeze but he is already onto you again, half-tackles you and grabs your waist, ready to smash you back onto the ground.

You cling onto him with all your remaining strength, struggling against his huge frame, wrapping your hands around his neck in an attempt to get him to stumble.

His hair tingles on your naked arms. Oh wait --

Tearing at his hair - which has him grunting in both, pain, and irritation at the unusual attempt - you clumsily pull yourself up onto his shoulders, cutting his face right above his eyebrow with your nails in the process until you finally wrap one leg around his throat and close it around there tightly, choking him. John tries to pull you off him and succeeds after quite the tussle, only to find your frame clinging to him, legs and arms wrapping around his body, hands scratching and feet kicking.

I will not fucking die today

In an attempt to either get rid of each other or submit the last blow, to finally kill the other, you two swirl through the room - a deadly dance of torn skin, smashed glass panes and mirrors, bruises and cuts. Somewhere in between kicks and punches, he managed to pick up his gun - and right now, you are mustering all of your exhausted strength to prevent the barrel from pressing against your skull.

Eventually, John crashes your bodies through a large wooden door, and is not quick enough - unable to stop his own oxe-like strength - to stop himself from stumbling into the room. The two of you only come a halt as his knees hit something soft and ironically that is what finally topples both of you over, landing onto the mattress of your bedroom with a soft thud and deep, exhausted grunts.

Your ears ring, and you are ready to lash out at him again despite the physical exhaustion, to strike him square across the face, as --

There is something hard pressing against your crotch.

The world falls silent.

No. No, there's no fucking way. It's got to bea hidden weapon. Must be.

But clearly, it is not. There, between your spread legs, his hard cock presses snugly against your panty-clad pussy.

And he just feels so huge - mouth-watering huge - that your body responds in its own way, hips snapping up, stuttering against the hard bulge. John lets go off a shaky, ragged breath, hand still clutching his gun. And you know, that this is your window.

Feeling the warmth that his body and his hard dick are radiating through his expensive suit, you roll your hips once - a languid, slow motion, rubbing your pussy over his bulge.

And he groans. A deep, primal sound that sounds a little coarse. John is looking at you, starring you down, but there is a shadow dancing over his eyes, turning his brown eyes into deep and dark, black pits that gives him away.

He is horny. The Boogeyman is fucking horny. You would laugh, if the realization wasn't knocking all air straight from your lungs. Because it just another reminder, proof of what he actually is: human.

And what a sight he is to see - eyes turning darker every second, his chest heaving with every breath and making it seem like his shirt is going to pop a button or two any second now, his cock prodding against its restraints and your clothed cunt.

It makes you want him. The thought leaves you dizzy, makes you gasp.

Apparently, that is all he needs to roll his hips back into yours. And that - that is just unfair. It's playing dirty. It's, it's -- His dick feels huge as it trails along your folds, has the muscles in your abdomen clenching.

"Fuck", you breathe, a little overwhelmed with and helpless at the sudden surge of lust that ignites your body, the wetness pooling between your legs.

John is not saying anything, just stares you down while he continues to slooowly roll his hips into yours, grinds his cock against your cunt. Your pelvis twitches upward as you start to meet his movements, and then you can hear it. He let's go of a deep breath, and it sounds like the faintest moan.

You need to hear more of that. You need more of him, your cunt aching and hole clenching around nothing already.

"John", and this time you say his name - consciously - it sounds a different way of desperate: your voice reduced to a small whisper, torn at the edges by a wanton whimper ripping from your throat.

If it throws him off-guard he does not show it, does not let you see it. Instead, he grabs your chin hard, gaze locking with yours. Dark pupils blown wide, swallowing the honey-brown of his eyes, and your breath hitches.

"Yeah?", he rasps, and it does not take more than one long look from you for him to lean in, to press his lips onto yours.

The kiss tastes of blood and adrenaline and doom, and you relish in it. Relishing the way his lips move against yours and his beard tickles a little, relishing how his tongue presses into your mouth. It feels like he is eating you whole, licking into your mouth, one hand dancing over your waist - featherlight, like he doesn't know how to touch a body without hurting someone, destroying someone.

I will not die today, motherfucker

Your whole body now sings with it, the security of an impending victory, as you roll your hips into his once more, your tongue now licking back into his mouth. For a second you think about how to strike again, now that he is seemingly distracted, but all will to fight leaves your body as one of his hands brushes over your knee, wanders further and eventually rests on your thigh.

The touch is electrifying and then his hand grows braver, his movements more certain, as he grabs your thigh, feels you up. It happens so suddenly, that you gasp into the kiss.

John parts from you, his lips a little plush already. "Oh God", you whisper as you stare Death Turned Human straight in the face, not a single thought remaining in your skull despite your lust.

He doesn't speak, as he gently let’s go off your leg and straightens back up and for a second you think he is going to hurt you, with the way his brows are furrowed - but he doesn't.

Instead, he moves in, right over your comparably tiny frame - a mountain of a man. John kneels above you, his weight pinning you down while he straddles your thighs and Jesus fucking Christ - what a sight he is to see.

Dark locks falling into his forehead, a little sticky with sweat and the bits of blood from the cut your nails gave him moments ago - right above his left eyebrow, still lazily trickling down into his lashes. His chest heaves with ragged breaths, as he hastily gets rid of his jacket, carelessly drops it to the ground. His black button-down clings to his muscular body underneath his waistcoat and his equally as muscular thighs pin you down to the bed, black fabric nearly tearing at the seams. And then there is his hard cock.

It looks as huge as it felt, with the way it bulges his pants, the outline of it clearly visible as it buckles proudly against its restraints. You are certain, you will not be able to close your hand around it fully - not a chance.

One of his hands - the one lacking a finger, which you only now notice and what sends shivers down your spine - wanders over your body, pulling your negligée down in the process, right tit spilling out of the soft silk. He immediately grabs it, cups it with his large hand and squeezes. You mewl, marveling at just how big his hand is, just as his whole body is in comparison to you. His fucked-up finger digs into the flesh, sending shivers down your spine.

John's hand gropes your tit, before he impatiently pulls the neckline down roughly. You sigh, arousal shooting down your spine and tingling in your lower belly, as two of his fingers nudge your nipple, pinch it.

He watches your face intently, as he continues to grope you, rolls your nipple between his fingers. You mewl, breath accelerating a little but it is just not enough and you buck your hips upwards. John grunts in, what you assume is an approving manner, and let's go off your tit, reaches to his belt at his loins.

Quickly pulling a knife from God-knows-where exactly, a sharp blade enters your vision.

You blink, panic seeping through your lust and your legs twitch a little with fear. If John notices it, he neither shows it nor does he say anything, just moves the knife closer to your body.

The blade shines in the dim light as it dances over your exposed thighs carefully, the metal cooly pressing against your skin, before he flicks it and cuts your negligée open. The thin, soft fabric cleanly cut in half it now lazily slides from your aching body, falls to its sides. Your chest heaves, shivers running down your arms and back.

It happens so quickly that you can only blink. As your brain finally catches up with your eyes, you come to realize that he is holding a real fucking tactical knife. You have thrown one once - they are sharp as hell and deadlier than a bullet. The sound of fabric tearing easily, like paper, proves your point.

And John's movements with the blade are so fast that your breath hitches, a little afraid he might cut you. But he does not, instead, he quickly pulls the torn silk off you and away from under you, carelessly tosses it into the dark of the room.

The edge of the blade dances over your skin and you do not dare to breathe, as he trails it up and down your curves, gently nudges your nipples. "I could kill you", he says calmly and then, in lightning speed, presses the blade into the crook of your neck. Your head sinks back into the mattress, in an instinct to flee the sharp edge.

All it does is to expose your neck further and something gleams in John's eyes, as he presses the sharp tip down slowly, carefully nudging your skin with it. The metal is cold and hard and sharp and your breath hitches. Just a little bit more and it might burst your skin, draw blood.

But, to your own confusion, you do not feel threatened anymore. Oddly enough, your nerves tingle with excitement. You blame it on the already high levels of adrenaline that still pump through your veins, rushing back and forth from your brain and your lungs, but a small voice inside of your head whisper gently, deviously, that you know That's not it. And he knows it, too.

It's in his eyes as well, the sheer excitement of it all, the fucked-up pleasure it evokes in the both of you lays heavy in the air.

It turns you fucking on. It turns you on, that the man who - minutes ago - tried you kill you and did hurt you very fucking badly in the process of it, now decides to let you live.

It turns you on, that you are at his mercy.

It turns you on, that he decided to spare you - just for now.

It turns you on, that these large and strong hands holding the knife have that sort of power over you. And thus, as the blade nudges your head back further, you moan.

"I could cut your throat", John's voice is heavy and thick with arousal and you can feel your heartbeat picking up, breath accelerating. His gaze drops down, watches the rapid rising and falling of your breasts hungrily, while another soft moan escapes from your lips.

"Don't", you breathe softly.

The knife practically burns on your skin, and you can feel arousal flooding your clothed pussy, rubbing your thighs together for any sort of friction. John can feel your squirming underneath him, but he can also see your eyes turning watery and dark with lust, pupils blown and a pretty pink spreading on your cheeks, your breath growing shallow. And he just really needs to fucking taste you right now.

As quickly as it appeared, the blade vanishes from your throat before he twirls the knife like the ruthless, reckless professional that he is, and buries it deep to the hilt in the mattress next to you. The sharp sound as it pierces the thick fabric has the hairs on your body standing up, goosebumps rolling over your skin.

"I'll do it later", he rumbles - casually, like he is talking about doing chores or picking up groceries - before hunching over you, grabbing your chin with his fucked-up hand, and kissing you again. His tongue immediately pushes into your mouth, like he is starving to taste you.

John eats you whole, with the way his lips move against yours. His hand cups your face, tongue licking into your mouth, toying with yours. His kiss steals your breath and you start to get dizzy with it, hips bucking. You can feel his lips curling up and then he parts from you, leaving you a gasping mess, spit pooling at the corners of your mouth.

"Let me touch you, John", you whisper, voice a little small because you do not know why you feel that way, and if he will even allow it. But you just need to feel him.

For a long moment his gaze dances over your face and something shifts behind his eyes, like a shadow gets lifted and then very quickly returns. Ultimately, he gives a court nod, so small you nearly miss it and gives you a little more room while straightening back up.

Carefully, as if not to spook him, you dart one hand out, place it on his chest. The muscle is firm underneath his suit and you run your hand along the lapel of his jacket, down and then back up, before it slips beneath it.

John's body radiates warmth under the black fabric of his shirt and your other hand comes up, before you shove the jacket off his shoulders and onto the floor next to the bed.

Your breath hitches.

He is wearing a holster, a reminder of his deadliness, of the gun laying somewhere next to you. Maybe, he sees the fear returning in your eyes, but he is quick to shrug the holster off, throws it into the dark where it clatters onto the wooden floor boards. What is left in front of you are broad shoulders and a muscular chest, the fabric nearly tearing at his movements.

As you run your hands over it, you cannot help yourself - you need to fucking feel him for real.

Quickly making work of his waistcoat and tie you toss both to the side carelessly, before your hands roam his broad chest. His button-down clings snugly against his upper body and you can feel the muscles work beneath the black fabric as your hands brush over them. You tug at the shirt, pulling its tails from his pants before hastily opening the first few buttons. The skin underneath is pale, littered by blue - red - black bruises, birthmarks scattered in between like stars. You pop open the rest of the buttons, greedy to touch him. And as the shirt falls to the sides your hands are already onto his chest, roaming over and admiring the muscular, defined canvas of strength, that violence has painted a pretty picture on.

John is watching you intently as you undress him and then explore his body, your pupils blown wide and dark, mouth agape a little. He is a little taken aback by it - by someone not seeing his body as the ultimate tool of death that it is, but as something else, that he cannot really pinpoint because he can't even look in the mirror without seeing destruction and decay. But the way your gaze wanders over his body, the way you touch him, is different from that and he has not felt anything like it in years.

And John wants. Carnal desire tugs at his brain, shoots arousal between his legs, makes his cock twitch and a low growl escaping his throat.

The sound gets you going: pushing yourself up with one hand, the other wrapping around his strong neck for leverage as you sit up, mouth immediately clutching to his throat. He tastes of sweat and after-shave - sharp and musky - and you run your tongue over his skin greedily, licking and sucking at the skin while your naked body presses against his.

It disarms him. The gentle touch that you put his body up to, while everything still aches from plowing through the better half of your father's militia and beating the hell out of you, confuses him. Your touch, your lips on his skin are soft and not aiming to hurt - instead, they grow more and more needy, wanton and hasty, as you lick over his bruised skin, tasting his sweat. Your hands over his abdomen caress his defined muscles, in awe of his utter strength, thumbs brushing through the soft and dark trail of hair leading beneath the waistband of his trousers. And all John can do, is watch, his gaze locking with yours as goosebumps erupt on his skin.

And you - oh you; your head swims with the way you turn this animal into a human again, unlock a different set of animalistic needs within him and hearing John's breath growing heavy really fucking does it for you, feeling his scarred and beaten-up skin underneath your hands, wrapping them around the deadly machine that is his body. It makes you want more.

Shedding his blood-stained shirt off of his shoulders, your hands roam over his upper back - feeling the scars there: of knives, larger and small ones and round ones of bullets that once pierced his skin. There is something else, a burn scar, in the shape of a cross and he hisses as your fingers brush over it, nails digging into the stunted skin.

It pulls John out of his stasis, reminds him of who he is and you can feel the air swinging with it seconds before he moves. His large hands wrap around your shoulders and then he pulls you off him, throws you back onto the mattress. You yelp, eyes growing wide as you watch his face as it turns from lightly dazed back to stern, wild, with his brows furrowed.

"That's enough", he says, voice coarse and it still feels like a small victory, even though he spreads your legs roughly, hands digging deep into your thighs - hard enough to bruise - before he kneels between them. He yanks your body forward at the back of your knees, watches your tits bounce and then leans in, his lips immediately attacking your throat, your neck.

His lips are surprisingly soft against your skin, his beard tickling a little as it brushes over your tits, your stomach, your thighs while his tongue licks fat stripes over your nipples and down down down your upper body, right to your navel. One of his hands creeps up your body once more and roughly cups your tit, squeezes, and gropes it, rolls your hardened nipple between his index and middle finger. His stunted ring-finger digs deep into your tit and you gasp, hips bucking. John's lips suck and nibble at your skin, before eventually ghosting over your pubic bone, teasing you before assaulting your thighs again, teeth biting down gently into the soft flesh. You gasp and moan while he gropes your body, inhales your scent - as you watch how his lips, tongue, and teeth dance over your thighs, moving closer to your cunt.

John finally, finally, puts his mouth onto your pussy, peppers open-mouthed kisses around your clit, before clothing his lips around it and sucking on it hard through your panties. Your hips buck as a high-pitched moan erupts from your throat, hands flying into his greying locks.

"Fuck", you whine, feeling fresh wetness flooding your folds, dampening the thin fabric further. John can see the outlines of your wet pussy pressing against your panties and parts from your clit momentarily, only to lick a fat stripe over your clothed cunt, watching it twitch.

"That's fucking pretty", he rasps, gaze locking with yours and you feel all air leaving your lungs. His eyes are so fucking dark, like gleaming black pits swallowing you whole, his breath a little flat with arousal.

You want him to fuck you. Really fuck you. To plow you open, rail you until you cannot sit nor walk. He is already so so close to you, but too far away at the same time. "Please", is all you manage to utter out. And it seems to be sufficient enough for him; seems to get across what you want, what you need.

John's fingers wrap around the front of your lace slip, tugging at the fabric - that rubs along your cunt at the sudden motion and has you gasping quietly - and then he pulls. The lace tears easily as he rips it apart, and cool air hits your wet and hot pussy, as he practically peels you out of your underwear, throws it to the side. The look on his face is wild and you can hear him taking a deep breath, smelling your arousal, before he spreads your folds apart with his thumbs, gaze wandering over your plump and flushed cunt.

Teasingly brushing over your clit with his thumb, John watches your reaction intently. And fuck, you do not disappoint. Throwing your head back, you moan, drawing in a deep breath through your opened mouth that heaves your chest, your eyelids fluttering.

You are dying for him to touch you and as he does, it feels like your body catches fire - lust washing away the dull pain in your limbs and near your ribs.

"Oh God", you breathe out as his thumb draws another wide and slow circle over your clit, your hands darting out and grabbing the sheets "Please."

And John complies, his thumb rubbing over your clit in a slow but steady rhythm.

Gasping, your hands clutch the sheets, knees darting away from each other, giving him more space. John accepts the invitation, grabs one thigh hard, fucked up ring-finger digging deep into your skin. His fingers move further, abandons your clit and dance over your folds, down to your hole. It flutters as two of his digits tease it, gently circling around it.

"Please", you whine once more, lifting your hips a little, a desperate noise leaving your throat. John smirks to himself, before pushing two of his fingers into you.

The stretch is sudden and bigger than expected and you moan coarsely, as he pushes his digits along your walls deeply and nestles them into your seeping hot cunt up to his knuckles. And Jesus, you feel so full already; your head swimming as you consider how big his cock must feel, then.

Your breath goes quick and shallowly as he starts to move them, and then he leans in. Nudges your clit with the tip of his tongue, licks over it.

You feel like combusting on the spot: your nerves tingling with arousal, your whole body still aching from the beating you gave each other earlier - the pain in your back blooming as you stretch it with your hips desperately shoving themselves near his touch - your pussy squeezing his fingers.

John pumps his thick fingers in and out of you, his tongue rubbing and circling your clit and soft, needy moans fall from your lips. Obscene, wet sounds fill the air, mingle with your moans and heavy breathing. His lips close in around your clit, sucking at it while his fingers rub along your spongy walls and your cunt squeezes them hard as fresh wetness floods your folds, your squirt wetting his beard and dripping down on the sheets below.

You can hear - feel - John humming against your pussy, peppering the wet skin with open mouthed kisses, licking over it, and tasting your slick.

You feel so fucking good - lust pulsating through your veins, loins on fire - and your head falls to the side, body rocking with sharp gasps and your mouth agape, eyelids fluttering as --

There's the gun. And the knife.

You could easily grab either one or the other next to you, pull the blade out of the matress or the hammer back; put a bullet right between his eyes or plow the blade deep deep into his skull. Killing the Boogeyman. Killing Baba Yaga.

That would do wonders to your family's business. It would emancipate you from it, you would be free. Free to rule.

"Thinking 'bout killing me?", John rumbles, tongue licking a fat stripe over your cunt, nudging your clit. Your gaze flickers back to him: hair a mess, eyes gleaming darkly, hands on your thighs to keep your legs spread. He does not look surprised. Neither does he look worried.

Realization hits you like a blow to the head: he is toying with you. Has been the whole fucking time. The wolf hunting the deer, running a few rounds through the woods to weaken it; its breath whistling with exhaustion, long legs buckling before it collapses - an easy kill. An easy kill for an old wolf, one, that can't quite handle a real hunt anymore.

But maybe, just maybe - judging from the look in his eyes - he got lost in his own game. Its reins slipped from his bloody hands, the wolf tumbling to the ground.

Looking back at him, your lips curl into a sweet smile. "Not anymore", your hand darts out, brushing the loose strands of dark hair from his face - the soft gesture leaving him visibly confused -, "John."

Two can play this game. And maybe, just maybe, the deer can tire the wolf out first.

Something gleams in John's eyes, dances over them like a shadow and he seems to accept the challenge - readying to tire you out - tongue licking over your clit once more, making you shiver and mewl, as he pulls his fingers out of your dripping hole. You feel empty and --

"Do you really think, you could kill me?", he rumbles, voice deep and rough around the edges, "Stupid slut."

And then, quicker than your brain can process it, his hand comes down on your dripping wet pussy.

Your breath hitches, topples over and leaves your throat as a raw, needy moan. Softly stinging pain blooms between your folds and sets your nerves on fire. Blame it on the bruises, blame it on the pain you both inflicted on each other moments ago, but: it riles you up. Mingles with your aching bones and aching cunt, has you arching your back.

"Y'really think you could kill me", he doesn't sound offended, not even amused - voice plain, like he is inquiring if you really believed the earth to be flat. Like you really are stupid.

And you start to feel stupid, too. There was never a chance. You never had a chance. Your death was sealed, determined the second John stepped into the hotel.

You were stupid to believe you could outrun or beat him. You are stupid. And John has every right to show you, teach you, punish you for it.

Giving your cunt another firm slap, John watches your hips twitch, hears your pussy squelching and soft moans falling from your lips. "Shit", you sigh and he slaps your wet pussy once more, feels your slick folds wetting the palm of his hand.

"D'you like that, girl?", and as your only response are wanton gasps falling from your mouth John chuckles deeply, gives your pulsating cunt another two firm slaps. Seeing how he is pulling you apart, how good he makes you feel really seems to do it for him, gets him quite talkative.

"Uh-huh", you make dumbly, quite illiterate, watching him stroking your flushed, hot cunt with two of his fingers. Shivers run down your spine.

And then he leans back in, licks a fat stripe over your sensitive, flushed cunt, from the hole up to the clit.

You squirm, mewl as his beard brushes over your overstimulated skin, leaving a slight burn that mingles deliciously with a fresh wave of arousal that floods your body scalp to toes.

The muscles in your abdomen clench as two of his fingers circle your fluttering hole and then push in, rubbing along your plush walls agonizingly slowly and you can feel yourself tightening around it. Your juices squelch from your cunt as you squirt against his tongue and your slick runs down your folds, wets his fingers and palm while his tongue laps at your pussy, tasting your sweetness.

John pushes is fingers deeper as you moan and sigh, hands fisting his hair and hips moving against his tongue, his digits thrusting into you.

"Oh god", you huff as his lips close in around your clit, sucking on it and the tip of his tongue flicking against it occasionally.

Another wave of fresh wetness floods your cunt as you squirt once more, wetting the sheets below, your slick running down John's wrist.

John parts from your clit, nudges it with his tongue, his beard glistening with your juices.

"Yeah, that's fucking it", another one of his thick fingers pumps itself into your tight little hole and his other hand - also slick with your juices - grabs your thigh, "That's a good girl."

You feel so full, your spine feels like it's on fire and your brain tingles with it, sends wave of pleasure down down down your body; muscles in your loins clenching, chest heaving. It becomes all too much as he leans back in, rubs his tongue over your clit, lips sucking and teasing your folds.

The slight burn of John's beard tickling your plush, hot cunt. His fingers working your open and stretching your tight little hole open far and wide, obscene squelching sounds filling the air as he works you open, brushing against your g-spot occasionally and making you see stars.

But it's too little. It's just not enough.

"Fuck", you whine as John's thick fingers brush over your g-spot with quite some force, tongue lapping at your seeping cunt, "Shit, please. Please, just fuck me, please!"

You can feel him grinning against your wet cunt, beard a little sticky with your juices, letting go of your pussy with an obscene pop. "Yeah", he licks his lips, tastes you on his tongue, "D'you want my cock?"

And that - that might be what makes you lose your mind. Because yes. Yes, you do.

You have been craving to touch it, to feel it since it had pressed against your clothed pussy earlier. Thus, all dignity leaves your body with one, clean whine that breaks free from your throat.

"Yes, fuck - oh god, John", you brabble, legs falling apart further, inviting him in, his digits sinking deeper into your soaking wet hole, "Shit, please fuck me, John - please, please, please --"

Pleas are still falling from your lips like a chant, as a surprising noise breaks the silence, so strangely beautiful that it has you nearly shuddering: John is laughing. It's a nice baritone sound, and the fine lines around his eyes crinkle with it - it's so beautiful, that it drowns the world out. You watch him in awe, as he shakes his head, avoids your gaze.

"Jesus. Look at you", he huffs, voice dripping thickly with amusement, "If you need it that badly--"

Straightening back up and kneeling between your legs, John slips his fingers from your cunt and makes quick work of his belt, trousers, and boxers. The second he frees is cock, you start to drool like a fucking pavlovian-dog.

His dick is so fucking huge. It is nicely curved and cut, the bulbous pink head glistening with pre-cum and a thick, pumping vein at the bottom that rakes from the base to the tip, as it rests between trimmed, dark pubic hair. His cock bobs against his abdomen as it bounces free, smears the pre-cum along the pale skin, twitches at the sudden contact. And Jesus fucking Christ, you just want to fucking touch it, feel its velvety skin in your palm. But you just know that you won't even be able to wrap your hand around its base fully, it's impossible, it--

"I-it won't fit", you whisper, a little taken aback by his sheer size.

"Oh, I'll make it fit, baby."

John takes his cock in one hand, thumb right beneath its head, and rubs it against your slit. And Jesus fucking Christ. Your hips snap up, meet his movements, and he grunts while he spreads his pre-cum along your cunt, gathers your slick. The thick head of his dick prods against your entrance and you take a deep breath, looking down between your legs. You watch how he slooowly pushes in and you gasp at the sudden intrusion, the delicious stretch making you moan.

His cock feels so fucking big, hot, and heavy, as he nestles the tip in, your hole clenching around it. John's brows furrow, and he doesn't wait long until he pushes his cock in further.

The thick base starts to stretch your slim rings of muscles, a sharp pain shooting through it. He can feel your hole protesting, can see you wincing. "Breathe, baby", he hums, "Let me do the rest."

His coarse voice mingles with his words and the waves of pleasure shooting through your body despite the dull pain, conjures up a pretty pretty image that floods your brain - there's sunlight everywhere, orange rays of it hitting a bed covered in white sheets, sweaty bodies on top of it; limbs entangled, hands intertwined with their golden rings shining brightly in the warm light, heavy breathing and sloppy kisses, and lazy thrusts as his cock fucks you awake. The thought makes you dizzy, your legs falling apart and hole fluttering open, inviting him in.

The slight burn leaves you a gasping, whimpering mess as he pushes himself in deep, nestles his huge cock in between your aching, hot, and tight walls.

And John feels like he is going to pass out. No blow to the head, no bullet to the chest, no knife to the stomach could ever make him feel as dizzy as the feeling of your hot cunt squeezing him does right now. His whole body is vibrating with want and lust and he just really hopes that you don't notice that he has gotten a little rusty. The thought quickly gets drowned-out as he looks down, where his thick cock practically splits you open, vanishes in your hole.

"Shit", he huffs out, places one large hand on your stomach and thrusts. Feeling himself moving inside of you has him moaning, gaze shooting up to you, meeting your eyes, as his hand presses down. "You feel me right here, baby?", he rasps and you nod, mouth agape by the sheer force of his thrust, tip of his cock prodding your cervix.

John can see his cock moving inside of you, the way your stomach bulges a little. He gets a little dizzy with, and then his eyes make the mistake of moving up to your face. And it takes a whole lot of fucking will-power of him to not just thrust and thrust and thrust and fuck you until you cry, bleed.

You are so fucking pretty. Mouth agape you watch how his cock vanishes between your legs, splits your cunt open, with his eyes heavy-lidded and cheeks flushed. Your lips are plush and red from his assault.

Your hands grip the sheets and your breasts heave with your deep breaths, that grow a little more flaccid. Next to you lays his gun, knife still buried into the mattress. His eyes drop to the weapons and his breath hitches. And for a split second, like a flash of light, he wonders what in God's name he's doing here. He is a professional. The Ballerina works like that. He doesn't.

A sweet, sweet noise rips him out of his thoughts. "J-john", you mewl, eyes still trained on his massive dick splitting you open, "I-it, it's --"

"Yeah?", he breathes, the sound all soft and careful around the edges.

"Heavy", you breathe.

"Does it hurt?", he kind of wants it to. Make you pay for what you did to him. He kind of doesn't want it to. Make you enjoy what he's got to give.

John realizes he is fucked.

You nod, head flying back into the cushions, while your brows dart together.

John's free hand flies to your clit, nudges it gently, before slowly rubbing wide circles over it. You gasp, as you feel fresh wetness flooding your cunt and dripping down your folds to where his cock splits your hole open, pools around it. He carefully pulls out a little and then pushes back in, assisted by your slick. The way you moan spurs him on and the circles on your clit grow faster and smaller.

Aching your back, you lean into the touch. "That's a good girl", he whispers, voice raw and coarse, dripping with lust and the exhaustion of holding back. John bottoms out, while continuing to rub your clit and he can feel your walls growing plush, your hole fluttering around his dick, relaxing with your hot, seeping cunt inviting him in. "Feels good?"

"Yeah, fuck", you feel like you are being split open, with his thick cock filling you to the brim and rubbing along your walls with every little movement, the thick head prodding gently against your cervix, "Shit, John."

It feels so fucking good, all thoughts being washed away from your brain as he starts to move carefully, thrusts into you once, twice. You moan, lips slightly parted, before your gaze flies to him.

And Fuck. John's chest is flushed a little, muscles of his abdomen flexing with every thrust while his gaze is trained down to where his cock fucks into you, brows darted together a little and his breathing audible.

"John?", you whisper, and his gaze immediately shoots up to you as your comparably tiny hand wraps around the wrist of his hand that is still rubbing your clit.

"Yeah?"

"Fuck me."

For a long moment, he just looks at you and you think - no, you are convinced - that you can see a glimpse of the human being he once was. Caring, sweet and gentle; as he seems to really take it into consideration if you are ready yet, if you know what you are begging for.

Apparently, he does deem you prepared enough, and the soft gaze gets replaced by a dark gleam as all gentleness vanishes from his face once more. Without a warning, John rolls his hips back only to thrust into you again, deep, and hard, immediately picking up a quick rhythm.

It comes as a genuine surprise to you and you gasp, mewling but it quickly feels just so fucking good, practically lights your body up and leaves every nerve-ending on fire, each thrust has you moaning loudly.

It spurs him on, makes him grunt and for a while, you both just watch him gliding in and out of your tight hole, with him feeling your muscles squeezing him and you feeling his cock stretching your open further and further. Your lips as slightly parted and his brows are furrowed as he rolls his hips into yours and you feel time getting lost on you, the only thing of importance remaining is the feeling of him filling you up. John's hands roam your body, wandering over your thighs and your stomach, your hips before angling your leg, pushing the heel of your foot on his shoulder, and grabbing your ankle with one hand, his dick slips into you even further, balls slapping against your ass heavily with each thrust.

You can tell that John has not fucked in a long, long time. It's not the way he does it - all fluid, languid thrust of his hips, muscles dancing under the soft skin. It's mostly the way he pants and grunts - sounds just as desperate as you feel. And still, he has the stamina of a racehorse.

You can feel that he wants to prove it, too, as his free hand grabs your thigh and hoists your other leg over his hip bone, practically pulling your lower half off the bed in the process. Your pelvis now clings to his, obscene sounds of his cock fucking into your wet pussy filling the air while he huffs with his thrusts, yet does not slow down.

The grip on both, your ankle and your thigh are hard, and you are certain his hands will leave a bruise but you just cannot bring yourself to care. Deep down you know, that someone will see them: your maids, your friends, your family.

But all thoughts, all worries get swapped from your brain as your gaze wanders up from where John's dick hammers into you steadily, rakes over his defined stomach and chest and finally, finally lands on his face.

He looks downright, utterly, and breathtakingly -- pornographic.

John's dark pupils blown wide gleaming with arousal, his cheeks are slightly blushed and a thin layer of sweat makes him glow in the dim light of the living room falling onto the bed. It surrounds him like a halo, a Saint of Death and Decay, with his dark hair falling into his forehead and onto his shoulders. He brushes it out of the way with his stunted hand, a ragged breath making his chest heave. There is still some of your slick wetting his beard.

You can't help your mind from going there, from wondering how different things could have been. What it would be like if you had met me in a bar instead of him entering your suite, leaving the hallway behind him looking like a slaughterhouse. Maybe he would have laughed at your jokes, in the dim light of your favorite bar in the city. Maybe he would have liked the same music as you do. Maybe, just maybe, he would have brought you home only to stay the night and fuck you until you would have lost your goddamn mind.

Your hand wanders down your body, strokes your waist and hip in the process, before it languidly drops between your spread legs, two fingers darting out and rubbing circles over your sensitive clit.

John moves quickly, his usual deadly precision shattering your peaceful fantasy, his hand ditching your thigh and closing in around your waist. "Don't you fuckin' touch yourself", he growls, and it's the first time you hear real, actual emotion dwelling in his throat - not his toneless, cold and mechanical rumble. He sounds pissed. Offended.

And the best part is: it seems to get him fucking going.

John leans in, your calf still resting on his shoulder and the slight pain of the stretch is delicious as he nearly folds your body in half. You can feel his dick sliding in even deeper into your hole and you gasp and whine, one hand coming up to dig into his biceps to just hold on. Hold on, while he pounds into you with perfectly angled, deep and strong thrusts, hitting your g-spot with every single one of them.

You know that the suite's door is in shambles, that anyone could walk in here and see you having your brains fucked out by the man who is here to kill you - but you don't care. Part of it is, because the gun is still resting next to your head on the sheets. You could just grab it and shoot anyone dead in heartbeat, whoever is trying to disturb the pleasure that shoots through your body.

But it is also him.

It's the way John is towering over you, back hunched, looking all wide and powerful and deadly, with the way he shields your body from view and harm as he thrusts into you. As he pushes all his rage, adrenaline, and strength into your tight hole, groans, and pants into your ear.

There is nothing you can do, despite holding onto him, nails digging into his back, clutching his broad shoulders, fingers running over his tattoos desperately. He is fucking the living daylight out of you, your body moving like a ragdoll underneath the mountain of muscles and strength. Your cunt is being split open by his cock, as you feel him hammering into you and you feel like you are going to lose your mind, panting and moaning with each of his thrusts.

"John, fuck", you moan sweetly, eyes rolling into your skull as he pounds into you, "You feel so fucking good, shit --"

"Yeah", he huffs, his forehead slowly sinking onto yours, "You too, baby."

You can see his eyelids fluttering, feel his upper body heaving beneath your hands, smell the blood on his skin, mingling with his musky scent. Blaming it on the sickening cocktail of hormones that is flooding both - your brain and your body - you lean in, your lips desperately smacking against his.

And Jesus Fucking Christ. Does John kiss you.

Kisses you like he is starving for it, licking back into your mouth - his body pressing yours into the mattress with his whole weight and muscle, while still thrusting into you.

Your hands tangle into his hair, tugging at it. John moans against your lips and your stomach flutters at the sound, and you want more. One hand moves to lay at the crook of his neck and your tongue presses against his, licking back into his mouth. Adding some force to his neck you invite John deeper into the kiss, and he follows suite, steals you the last bit of air your lungs were holding. Panting you part from him, thumb brushing over the crook of his neck.

Greedily breathing against his lips, you can't help yourself. You feel so alive and you want him to wreck you, to leave something behind that you will remember for every day your heart continues to beat. Greedily breathing against his lips, you can't help yourself but to whisper: "Harder."

John blinks, hips stuttering. And then, he grunts. His hand digs into your waist as he grabs you there, hold you in place will his hips rut into you. Picking up a near brutal rhythm, obscene sounds of your slick being pushed in and out and in out of your hole as he jackhammers into your g-spot, the bedframe rattling as John's thrusts pound it into the wall - leaving you a gasping and moaning mess. His belt clinks with his thrusts and you cling onto him, sharp whines escaping your throat.

"John John John", his name leaves your mouth like a mantra, sharp and high-pitched. His head falls forward, dark locks brushing over your cheek as his temple rests against yours and then you hear it.

John moans.

It's a deep, carnal sound. Your stomach flutters and lust shoots through your body at the noise, your tight cunt squeezing his thick cock as you squirt around his cock like a broken fucking hose, wetting his pubic hair. You can feel it rubbing along your wet folds, the sensation making you mewl, leaves your hips shuddering.

"Shit", you breathe, hands cradling his muscular back and then you can feel his dick twitching inside of you, accompanied by yet another one of his sweet, sweet moans, "Fuck, John--"

He raises his head and your gazes connect, before he leans in, presses his lips onto yours once more. The kiss is surprisingly soft and in stark contrast to the way he ruts and pounds into you and then he hits the spot once more and -

Everything goes white as your muscles clench and unclench suddenly, as you nearly scream against his lips; your hole practically milking his cock as you cum, pussy gushing and squirting around him like a broken hose.

John continues to fuck you through your orgasm and his heavy breathing reaches your ears through the cotton candy, that slowly wraps you in as everything turns light and bright. He moans deeply against your cheek as he comes, too - shoots hot ropes of cum into you and paints your walls with it.

His movements still as he buries himself deep into you, cock twitching with each thick rope of his cum and you can feel him fill you up, as his massive frame slowly sinks down onto you.

Your legs grow heavy and the stretch of your left leg is turning painful and you - a little clumsily - pull it away from his shoulder, stretch it out. Your limbs start to shake and you close your eyes, drawing in deep breaths through your nose.

The room is silent, the air heavy with the musky scent of sex.

Your chest still heaves with the remains of your orgasm, bliss still spreading in your brain and your veins, making you feel like you are flying. Your heart is still racing, as you feel him moving again.

Blinking up at him, you can see him grabbing the gun.

"Don't", you say softly, voice coarse from screaming your lungs out in pleasure just moments ago, "Please, don't." You are not ready to scream yet again. Not ready to scream in pain, instead of pleasure.

John does not reply. He pulls the hammer back, checks the chamber - all with one hand.

"Kill him instead, please."

He freezes, eyes locking with yours. "Who?", he sounds just as exhausted as you. The wolf, tired out. The deer, bleeding, limping.

Call it Post Nut Clarity, call it Finally Taking Your Future In Your Own Hands, call it Emancipating Yourself. Call it Having Wrapped A Deadly Assassin Around Your Pinky.

You were not safer here. You never were. Just more isolated. Easier to locate.

Easier to kill.

Realization hits you like a blow to the head, your vision swimming.

See? I will not die today.

"My father. Kill him."

[ghcstpyre]

john wick x f!reader

cw: cis female reader, slight dom/sub dynamics, soft dom!jw, sub!reader, unprotected p in v, creampie, squirting, praise kink. MINORS BEGONE!

word count: 1.4k

a/n: i am in a Mood™️ and was inspired to try and write a quick piece. also yes I am procrastinating everything because of animal crossing so this is also to try and get back into the swing of writing lol. enjoy!

Your cheek squished against the flat, cool surface of the rich mahogany desk. Sometime after settling down in John's private library with your usual dark fantasy romance and John following not long after to have a nosey at what you'd been reading, you'd ended up bent over the nearest desk with your skirt yanked up and bunched around your waist and your panties pulled to the side. Thick fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hips, keeping your willing body right where he needed it. You were doing your best to be quiet, as per his orders, but it was becoming increasingly difficult with each delicious inch he pushed inside you.

“John…” You whined, wiggling your hips under his iron hold in an attempt to coax his cock further inside you.

This only had John doubling his grip on you. The fingers that held your hips dug in further, hard enough to bruise and leave little crimson crescent moons in your skin. The pain didn't deter you though. It only had that unsatisfied ache pulsing within your centre flaring up tenfold.

“Shush, baby,” John's voice was low and gravelly and sent a thrill rushing down your spine. Really, it was almost pathetic how much of an effect just his voice had on you. “I told you to be quiet. You sure you can do that for me?”

He leaned over, pressing his muscled slab of a body against your back to nip at your earlobe. You bit your lip in an attempt to stifle a whimper of need, just barely succeeding, and nodded.

“Good girl.”

John’s stubble grazed you and his long, dark hair tickled your skin as he pressed a tender kiss to your cheek and the weight of him lifted off of you. Whether it was out of mercy or pity - or both - John pushed the full length of his cock inside you in one swift motion. It took everything you had to not cry out in pleasure and pain as his tip kissed your cervix, filling you completely.

He watched as you struggled to keep any noises from escaping, his gaze heavy enough that you could practically feel it pinning you down to the desk just as effectively as his meaty hands. Seeing you in such a state of utter need while also being desperate to obey had his length throbbing inside you.

John set an unbearably slow pace, slow enough that it had you practically crawling out of your own skin. You so desperately wanted - no, needed him to to just fuck you, but instead it seemed he was determined to make sure you felt every vein and every inch, right up to the ridge where his swollen pink head met his shaft.

“Mmm, that's it, thaaaat's it.”

All you could do was lay there and take it without protest, however he wanted to give it to you. Your hands white knuckled the edge of the desk in front of you, serving as your anchor as you fought tooth and nail to keep any sounds of pleasure trapped behind your teeth. You knew that disobedience would result in punishment and you didn't really feel like being punished and degraded right now.

Right now, you wanted to be showered with praise. You wanted to be adored.

“You're being such a good girl for me. You want more?” He asked, relinquishing the vice grip he had on your hips in favour of smoothing those large, rough palms over the meat of your ass.

You didn't get a chance to nod. John was already parting your cheeks and chuckling deeply at the sight of his shaft, half buried in your soaking cunt and glistening with your slick arousal while the rest of it slowly dripped down your thighs.

“Look how wet you are for me. Of course you want more; you've already soaked my cock.”

With one hand he gripped one of your cheeks, while the other snaked up your spine to tangle in your hair. He pulled on the strands, forcing you to lift your head up and prop your upper body up on your elbows and forearms as his hips finally, finally picked up the pace.

If you weren't struggling to stay quiet before, you sure as hell were now. John knew how you liked to be rocked, what the perfect angle was to hit that sweet spot inside you that made you see stars. 

Tasting the tang of iron on your tongue you stopped biting your lip. You'd been so focused on keeping any noise at bay you hadn't even registered how hard your teeth were clamping down on the soft flesh while John pumped his huge cock in and out of you.

“You're doing so well for me baby, so well. Just a bit more and I'll - ngh - let you cum. I want to enjoy this sweet pussy a little longer.”

God, if his dick didn't push you over the edge then his words might just do it. Knowing that such a sweet, gentle man had the capacity to groan out words so filthy made that sick little part of you sing with glee.

The sounds of your rapid breaths mixed with his grunts of pleasure and skin slapping against skin bounced off the walls and echoed through the rows of bookcases filling John's library. Your legs began to shake as that familiar heat began coiling low in your abdomen. Sensing your building need, John let go of your hair and ass cheek to lean that glorious weight over you once again, propped up on one thick forearm while his other hand moved between your trembling legs to rub your neglected clit.

You keened into his heavenly touch and you couldn't stop a strangled little cry from escaping. You were quick to cut it off however, dropping your head to press your treacherous mouth into the inside of your elbow to muffle the noise. 

“That's my girl. You've been so good, do you want to cum? You want to cum for me? You want to be loud?” John's voice was practically dripping with honey as he whispered in your ear.

All you could do was lift your head again, look at him over your shoulder and nod pathetically while you rocked your hips back against him, meeting his thrusts.

“Cum.” He ordered, slamming into you with his fingers working relentlessly on your clit beneath you. “Cum on my cock baby. Scream for me.”

That was all the encouragement you needed.

Your cries and sobs of pleasure drowned out anything else as you came, your pussy gushing over his length and thighs and the wooden floor beneath your feet while you rode out the waves of your orgasm. John wasn't too far behind, pressing his chest flush against your back to suck a dark bruise into the crook of your neck while he thrusted into you one, two, three more times, and then filled you with his seed with a loud, long groan.

Both of you stayed like that for a short while, catching your breath and begging to sober up from the lust-addled haze you were in just moments ago. Eventually, John lifted his weight from you and pulled out, letting his cum leak from your entrance. He took a few moments to run his hands up and down your back, soothing you as you came down from the high.

“You okay?” He asked, his voice returning to its usual deep, gentle lilt.

Somehow you managed to stand up and turn around to face him on your shaky legs. John was quick to wrap his arms around you to keep you steady. You were all too grateful, immediately leaning your weight against him and letting out a content sigh.

“Yeah. More than okay, I feel amazing.” You smiled up at him, cheeks rosy with happiness, and then nuzzled your face into his broad chest.

John chuckled, the baritone sound rumbling from within. “Good.” With a swift motion he scooped you up into his arms to carry you bridal style towards the door to the library. “Because I've not quite had my fill of you just yet.”

divider by @/strangergraphics

[generalkenobee]

Imagine John Wick fucking you in his big kitchen, he has you bent over the counter screaming while grabbing at anything you can, the sinks, cutlery, holding out your hand as a sign that you want him to grab it.

So now John is fucking into you, telling you how good you're being whilst your hand rests in his gently. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear "yeah? Ya like that sweetheart" and if you don't answer he'd just chuckle to himself knowing how fucked out you are.

[monsoonsosoon]

how can I be normal when he looks like this?

[feinv]

more john wick writing — ! is nsfw.

female!reader unless stated otherwise.

— asks

is john wick a smoker?

is john experienced in bed?

— drabbles

john wick x shy fem!reader.

john wick + daddy issues.

john taking care of you during your period. part 1 | part 2

ovulating around john wick.

how young!jw and older!jw act in the club.

! john getting jelous when others check you out. gn!reader

john wick + “please. don’t ever leave me.”

admiring john's abs. gn!reader

! john thigh fucking you.

! john overstimulating you.

! john wick + choking kink.

! sweaty tight shirt revealing john's muscles. gn!reader

john wick being hired to assassinate you father. gn!reader

telling john you have a kidnapping fantasy.

! first time doing anal.

! john being intimidating while fingering you.

touch starved john wick.

john taking more missions and being mean to you.

john wick x sensitive partner. gn!reader

john wick x chronically online partner. gn!reader

john wick x goth!reader. part 1 | part 2

! john wick finishing too fast and being embarrassed.

john teaching you russian. gn!reader

john wick as a dirty talker.

using your chest as a pillow to sleep. gn!reader

sitting on john's lap while he cleans his guns. gn!reader

first date, you don’t know what he does for a living. gn!reader

late night drive with john.

john wick x winstons!daughter.

doing each other's hair.

trying for a baby.

[ilongfor-the-arts]

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

Poetry in Motion

Pairing: Marquis de Gramont x fem! Reader

Warnings: mild language

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

Word Count: 2.5k

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

“You’re late Y/N!”

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

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

My director held up a hand, silencing me.

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

I nodded vigorously.

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

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

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

“Y/N.”

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

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

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

“What took you so long?”

I slapped my palms against the table, annoyed.

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

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

“Do tell.”

I took out my eye makeup.

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

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

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

I moved on to the other eye.

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

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

“Wow girl, that’s rough. I’m sorry.”

I pulled out my blush.

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

I scoffed loudly.

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

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

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

I rolled my eyes.

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

I watched Clara shrug from the corner of my eye.

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

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

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

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

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

Clara perked up.

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

I rolled my eyes for a second time.

“I mean, come on Clara, look at him!”

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

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

I held up my hands in defense.

“I am not having this conversation right now!”

I stood, rushing over to the costume rack.

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

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

“Sh!”

-

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

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

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

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

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

No luck.

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

No luck.

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

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

“Y/N!”

Clara exclaimed as we walked back to the dressing rooms.

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

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

“Thanks Clara.”

I said flatly.

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

I grit my teeth.

“He’s not here tonight.”

Clara leaned in.

“What did you say?”

“I said he’s not here tonight!”

I snapped involuntarily. Clara retreated.

“Woah woah, how do you know this?”

“I didn’t see him in the crowd.”

Clara furrowed her brow.

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alright, probably just a coincidence-

Wait.

I did a double take.

Holy shit.

It was the guy from the ballet!

This all is just one big coincidence.

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

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

Shit.

Shit!

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

I’m about to get totally kidnapped!

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

God, he’s getting closer!

Jesus my stomach is in knots!

“Don’t look so frightened, darling.”

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

I’m fucked.

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

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

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

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

How did he get there without me hearing?

The heat left my body.

I stood, wide eyed and perplexed.

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

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

He placed a hand on his chest.

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

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

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

“Did you come and see the show tonight?”

A smirk played on the corners of his lips.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your blood runs red with creativity.”

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

“And, your beauty is unmatched.”

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

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

“How long have you been dancing for?”

I raise my eyebrows.

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

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

“And… Do you enjoy it?”

I nodded vigorously.

“Yes, I remember, um-.”

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

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

I swallowed, a lump forming in my throat.

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

He chuckled.

Yes!

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

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

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

His voice dropped to a sultry whisper.

“You are beautiful to watch.”

My stomach flipped.

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

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

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

Him.

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

He grinned.

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

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

A hug?

A proclamation of love?

A kiss?

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

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

“Call me, Ma chère.”

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

I could breathe.

I could think.

“Wait!”

I shouted. He glanced over his shoulder.

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

“What’s your name?”

He scoffed.

“When you call, I will tell you.”

[keanusbabydoll]

consequence

paring: john wick x virgin!fem!reader

warnings: 18+ content, heavy smut, oral (M and F), unprotected sex, p in v, age gap, rough sex, fingering, overstimulation, praising, cursing, use of y/n, virgin reader, porn with plot, pet names

wordcount: 6.5k

MNDI

. • °✧༺ ༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ . • °✧༺ ༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ . • °✧༺ ༻*✫

you didn’t know how you ended up in this situation.

tied to a chair in an apartment of a hotel, your mouth covered with duck tape.

next to you stood a tall man, slick black hair and wearing a suit. but that was all you could make out. the room was pitch dark except for the moonlight shining slightly through the window across from you.

you didn’t know what to do. your body was shaking in fear and inside you was a chaos of emotions. you thought that this was your end, that you were going to die. the man asked you questions, some of them you didn’t even understand. who sent you? what is your mission? who are you working for?

all that didn’t make sense to you.

all you wanted to do there was looking for answers. a few days ago, you found a red folder in your grandpas office at home. winston scott. the only family you had left. but something always seemed off with him. he never let you come to work with him, was always very distant if you asked about his job and was barely at home. you knew that he hid something from you. and you were determined to find out, so all you could think about was looking in his office which you weren’t even allowed to enter.

but you couldn’t hold yourself back anymore. you needed to know what was going on. so, you found that red, promising folder and what you found in there took your breath away.

there were pictures of a hotel you definitely knew and flipping to the next pages you stumbled across the high table, rules- also from the hotel, and the criminal underworld. you didn’t know what to say. it all didn’t seem real. it was like straight out of a movie. you wanted it to be unreal but all this was proof that it was reality. and now everything started to make sense to you. that was the reason why your grandpa never told you anything about his job, let you come along or was gone for weeks. at this point you even wondered how you’ve never heard anything from all that before. it was confusing.

but right now you deeply regretted walking into that hotel. you just wanted answers, wanted to search for your grandpa and talk to him. but that man must have known that you weren’t here, like every other criminal, to seek protection.

you were desperately trying to get out of the restraints that tied you to the chair, tears were streaming down your face like a waterfall and constant whimpers and whines left your mouth- wordlessly begging him to set you free. you had no idea what that man was going to do with you. and that scared you to death. but nothing helped. he acted like you weren’t even there.

"please.“ you mumbled through the tape, your eyes pleading silently. in a matter of seconds he turned on his heels sharply, his patience wearing thin and his fingers immediately wrapped harshly around your gin, forcing you to look up. "one more fucking sound and you won’t get out alive.“ he growled, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

you quickly nodded your head as he let go of your gin and marched across the room, stopping by a table which had a telephone placed on it. you watched him as he dialed a number and waited impatiently, the tight grip on the telephone proof of it.

"hello sir.“ he suddenly said. you could make out a faint male‘s voice but didn’t hear what he was saying.

"yes i‘d like to speak to the manager." a sigh fell from his lips. "no, here in room 818.“ he continued, his voice deep and cold. "thank you.“ he ended the call, tossing the telephone back on the table before storming off to a different room.

you were left alone with your thoughts when suddenly your blood froze.

the manager.

you almost forgot that your grandpa owned this hotel. you started to panic even more. you had no idea how he would react seeing you tied up in one of his apartments. plus, you weren’t even supposed to know about this place. the tears were now getting more and more, blurring your vision completely but you tried your best to keep quiet. you didn’t want to anger that man further.

minutes of heavy, uncomfortable silence passed and there was still no sight of him. your emotions were starting to eat you up, the fear, sadness, anger drove you insane.

but out of a sudden there was a loud knock echoing through the whole apartment. you shrieked up, your head turning to the door‘s direction when the lights turned on. you immediately closed your eyes, blinking a few times to get used to it. again, you looked over to the door and found the man unlocking it.

"johnathan.“ is the first thing you heard before grandpa stepped into the room. your eyes widened and your pulse quickened. there was no going back now.

"winston.“ the man replied, both of them shaking hands.

"is there something wrong johnathan?“ grandpa asked, his eyes fixated on the man.

"there was a little incidence. i thought i’d show you, let you decide what you’d like to do with her.“ johnathan answered, gesturing his head towards your direction. when winston‘s eyes followed johnathan’s gesture, his mouth slightly parted and his movements stopped. the second you had eye contact, you began to whimper, wriggle, trash around, just anything to make him come to you and free you from your position.

fortunately he took that as a sign and ran over to you, immediately kneeling down, untying the ropes around your wrists and ankles before he ripped the tape off your mouth, eliciting a painful hiss from you. in an instant, you got to your feet, wrapped your arms around his neck and began to cry again.

"i‘m so sorry grandpa. please forgive me, i didn’t mean to-" you were cut off mid-sentence when he slightly pushed you away from his embrace, looking at you with a disappointed face.

you glared at him with pure confusion. what was going on? your eyes darted over to that man, or well johnathan, who watched the situation closely with furrowed eyebrows. your eyes snapped back to your grandpa when he suddenly gripped your upper arm, squeezing it harshly. "what are you-"

"what the fuck has crossed your brilliant mind to do such a thing!?“ grandpa suddenly yelled, making you jump slightly. you wanted to answer him but you couldn’t. you didn’t know what to tell him.

"how do you even know about this place? did you snoop around in my office, y/n?“ he continued, his tone cold and angry.

you couldn’t answer him. you broke his highest rule- not entering his office and you did even worse. "answer my question!“ he hissed at you, making you jump a little. your eyes were glued to the floor, not having the confidence to look him in the eye.

"yes, i - i found your folder.“ you quietly mumbled. the grey haired man huffed out in disbelief and released your arm, taking a few steps away before looking at johnathan. they exchanged a weird look, you couldn’t tell the meaning of and it freaked you out.

somehow you didn’t get what the big deal now was. sooner or later you would have found out anyway, he couldn’t have kept that secret forever. you looked up at him, catching him pinching the bridge of his nose.

"do you have any idea what you’ve gotten yourself into? i never wanted you to know about this world.“

your mouth opened to say something but nothing came out. there was nothing to say.

his stare darkened as he continued. "i wanted to protect you, keep you away from that. and now with that stupid and reckless action of yours you ruined everything. there are hundreds of criminals, assassins, brutal murderers in my hotel and they saw you. you’ve got their attention and they’ll talk about you, y/n.“ tears began to form in your eyes, you didn’t even know why but the whole situation made you feel incredibly awful.

"i‘m sorry.“ you quietly whispered, sending him an apologetic look.

johnathan and grandpa huffed out in sync, a playful smirk played on the black haired man’s mouth. "oh, you’re sorry. y/n, a simple sorry won’t do it! you do not understand what this means right now! i do have enemy’s, what if they’ll hunt you down, what if they’ll try to kill you?“ your grandpa sneered at you, eyes narrowed. "i can’t believe it y/n, since when do you do shit like this?“

you frowned, staring at the floor again. on one hand you felt like a disappointment to your grandpa. you always tried to make him proud and he cared for you like the parent you’ve lost at a young age. but on the other hand you were furious. he was giving you all fault. like, did he actually think that you’d never find out? or the fact that he’s a criminal himself and runs a hotel for those people, speaks for itself. to keep something like that from you made you angry, hurt you even.

you furrowed your eyebrows at him angrily, forcefully wiping the tears that stained your cheeks away. both men stared at you impatiently, waiting for your reply. but in their eyes, there was a gleam of hate and disappointment.

"what? cat got your tongue?“ winston stated mockingly and you felt like you were about to loose your temper.

"you want me to talk? fine.“ you replied, your eyes darting between both men. "what do you expect me to do now? turn into some fucking monster like you two are? kill people and torture them? or join your little gangster club you always kept secret from me?“ you raised your voice, laced with pure sarcasm and anger.

a dark chuckled rang through the room, sending unpleasant tingles through your body. johnathan. of course he found the whole situation amusing. he thought that your behavior was childish and funny.

"you know nothing about this world. there is no 'little gangster club', things are serious.“ he pointed out sharply, crossing his arms over his chest. you huffed out, taking a few steps closer to johnathan but you were stopped by a hand on your wrist. your eyes switched to your grandpa who looked at you disapprovingly. "don’t even try it.“ he warned you lowly.

"i don’t even know him? what is he even doing here?“ you yelled at them now, your emotions taking over you, tears forming in the corner of your eyes again. "do you even know how i’m feeling right now? i can’t fucking believe that you lied to me all this time only to find out a few days ago that you’re a fucking criminal!“

"do not raise your voice at me y/n!“ winston snapped, pointing a finger at you warningly. "or what? you gonna ground me for it?“

"no, johnathan and i’ll have a talk now. you stay here, i don’t want a single misbehavior from you. am i clear?“ you wanted to yell at him so badly, but you knew better than that. there would have been no use in discussing further with him anyway.

"mhm.“ you hummed, turning around to sit on the bed. "what was that?“ winston muttered. "yes, i understand.“ you mumbled and watched them as they exited the room.

you collapsed on the bed, your face buried in your hands. you wanted to slap yourself for being this stupid. if you just would’ve listened to winston and followed his rules then you wouldn’t have been in this situation. many thoughts crossed your mind, and your head felt like it would explode. but one thing weighed most on you; you wanted to know what they were talking about and how all that would continue. a while left your lips and you exhaled loudly.

minutes passed and still they weren’t back. and it was frustrating you. what could they possibly discuss this long? just as you wanted to go out and look for them, the door opened and both of them stepped in. you immediately sat up, looking at them curiously.

your grandpa stopped directly in front of you, glaring down at you with a serious mask. and you knew that face. it never meant something good. johnathan had a emotionless expression plastered on his face, waiting for winston to speak up.

"johnathan and i have talked and we’ve come to an agreement. you’ll be staying with him from now on. he’ll teach you how to fight, how to be prepared for-"

"excuse me? what?“ you interrupted, caught off from his words. he must be joking, you thought. he wouldn’t have let you live with a stranger who was a killer, right?

"i‘m serious y/n.“ he snarled, clearly annoyed by your behavior.

"you want me to stay with the crazy killer who tied me to a fucking chair? not gonna happen.“ you replied, crossing your arms. not over your dead parents you would have done that.

"i am not going to discuss with you, y/n. also, you don’t get to decide this, sweetheart. this is the consequence for your action, so face it.“ grandpa pointed out, his voice dripping with sarcasm as a smirk was plastered on his lips. you were stunned, speechless even. you truly didn’t know what to say.

two months later

john‘s house, or villa - how you like to call it - nestled on the outskirts of new york, became your new home. after the argument, back in john’s apartment, he and your grandpa practically forced you to pack your stuff and move in with the assassin. it was hard, for all of you, but especially for you. your world was turned upside down and you felt like you weren’t even real. it all happened so fast -too fast. you were mad at your grandpa, ever since then you haven’t talked to him.

in your opinion, he was the one who was to blame. if he would have just told you about all this calmly, just the two of you, you wouldn’t have been in this awful situation now. of course you missed him, but you felt like he was mad himself and you didn’t have the energy to call him.

however, you slowly got used to living with john. it was strange to be honest, a weird atmosphere that made uncomfortable. he hardly ever talked to you, which bothered you dearly because you thought that it would be a good start to create small conversations but john basically avoided your attempts. the first month turned into grueling routines. mornings, afternoons, evenings -all focused on training.

there were bruises on your arms and legs, soreness in muscles you never knew you had. john wasn’t merciful, not in the least. he pushed you harder than you thought possible, demanding more each time. and whenever you showed any sign of weakness, his responses were brutal and without sympathy. but as difficult as he was, you found yourself watching him more and more. the way he moved -silent, calculated, almost predatory. his voice deep and rough, had a way of making your heart skip even as he issued orders. and not to forget how sexy he was to you. you often imagined fucking with him like there was no morning.

but you tried to hide it, to ignore the way your stomach fluttered whenever he spoke your name, or the way your heart pounded when his hand accidentally brushed against yours. but the feelings for him grew, every day, every lesson, you found yourself falling harder.

compared to now, the training grew more intense, but john’s coldness also seemed to deepen. you couldn’t understand why; you’ve gotten to know each other, you thought, shared so much time together, but he seemed more guarded than ever. you wanted to believe that there was something between that icy exterior, a warmth you’d occasionally glimpsed in his eyes, but he was difficult to read.

one evening, close to 8 pm, you found yourself again in the training room you hated so much. your arms and legs ached, your body was slick with sweat and your head felt like it was going to explode. but even seeing you in such a state, john didn’t budge, he just continued to explain and show you more and more techniques.

"like this.” he instructed, his voice low as his hands adjusted his stance. he tried to come at you again but you dodge his blow. frustration bubbled inside you, fueled by his coldness, his distance, your own feelings. for the last time, you took all your strength together. before he could react, you had one leg wrapped around his torso, one hand around his neck- surprising him with a quick maneuver. with all your power, you used the momentum to throw him to the ground. to your shock, you ended up on top of him, straddling his waist - both hands on his chest- your breathing quick and heavy.

john’s eyes met yours, his usual coldness softened by a hint of something you couldn’t quite read. the tension between you both thickened, your cheeks flushed red as you realized the position you guys were in. you could feel his heart beat beneath you, see the dark glint eyes in his eyes as they held your gaze.

"impressive.” he murmured, his voice rough.

your breath caught and your mouth opened to speak, but before you could, john’s hand was on your waist, the other around your throat as he pulled you down, closing the space between you. his lips met yours, firm, commanding and your heart skipped, every nerve igniting. you gasped, but the kiss grew more intense, he slipped his tongue in your mouth, claiming you. his hand wandered up and down your back, stopping at your ass, giving it a harsh squeeze, eliciting a muffled moan from you.

your fingers gripped his shirt, pulling him closer. the heat began to pool in your panties when you felt his hard- on pressing against your core. your body automatically started to grind down, trying to gain friction to ease the ache that tingled in your abdomen. but john pulled away, stopping your kiss.

"not here.” he muttered, easily getting up with you still clung to him. you wrapped your legs around his waist, your mouths colliding again. his hands on your ass, supporting your weight. he walked out of the room, your lips never parting. john entered the living room and sat down on the couch with you still on top of him. his hands now roamed your whole body, squeezing your breasts, running up and down your back, slapping your ass slightly. again, your hips began to grind down against him, his cock now rock hard, the feeling making you whine out. john also groaned into the kiss, loving the pleasure he received just as much.

then, john let his hands slip under your shirt, caressing the warm skin, before he broke your kiss, pulling the fabric over your head and tossing it away. his eyes admired your half naked body, focusing on your tits which were pushed up plumply from your bra. he immediately bent down and started to suck on your neck, licking and biting the sensitive skin with fever. your body arched into his touch, small moans escaping your lips as you shut your eyes.

you felt john’s hands reaching around your middle to unclasp your bra before pulling both straps down, adding the piece of clothing to the floor. he withdrew from your neck, taking in your bare tits, his eyes turning darker with the desire. "fuck, doll.” he licked his lips before he dipped down, immediately taking one of your hardened nipple into his mouth. his tongue swirled around the bud while sucking on it harshly. "oh, john.” you whined out, his abuse sending jolts of pleasure directly to your cunt. your movements began to fasten, your moans growing louder.

john switched sides, taking care of your other nipple equally. "more, john.” you begged him, your fingers pulling on his raven hair. but john released your nipple and pushed you back slightly. "get on your knees.” he growled, voice full of dominance. you blinked at him a few times, your breath heavy, before you got off his lap and placed yourself between his thighs. "come on, be a good girl for daddy.” he said lowly while gesturing to his bulge, his tone sending shivers down your spine.

hesitatingly, you let your hands ran up his thighs, wrapping your fingers around the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers. you swiftly pulled both down, letting them pool around his ankles before he stepped out of them. your eyes widened a little at the sight of his cock.

thick. long. veiny. he almost looked intimidating, making you wonder how you’ll be able to take all of him. you scooted closer to him, staring up at him with doe eyes. "now don’t be shy, doll. go on.” he commanded, waiting desperately for your next move.

with a slightly shaking hand, you wrapped it around his base before licking a tiny strip along his reddened tip. his dick immediately twitched at the contact, a low groan falling from his lips. carefully, you licked his shaft before dipping the head completely in your mouth. you looked up at him so innocently, so desperate. john placed his hand on your head, slightly gripping the roosts of your hair. he began to push your head further down in his length, your nose almost touching his pelvis. a loud strangled gag rang through the room, as your whole body shivered and tears immediately shot into your eyes. "relax baby, breath through your nose." he rasped lowly, eyeing you with desire.

you blinked your tears away, focusing back on giving him pleasure. you began to bob your head up and down his cock, slow and teasing at first. the loud groans that fell from his lips only urged you to go faster, signing you that you were doing good. you let your tongue swirl around his shaft, massaging it and pressing it strongly against his shaft. john's eyes opened again, falling immediately down to you, growling out when he saw your plump lips wrapped around him so perfectly.

he couldn't hold back anymore.

his hand gripped tighter and he began to move your head on his cock in a fast pace, controlling your movements. you tried your best to relax your throat, letting him use your throat however he pleased. drool was slowly dripping down your gin and your eyes were watery, his size almost bruising your throat. you constantly felt his tip brushing against the back of your throat and his hips began to jerk. your hands held onto his thighs, needing support as he pulled your head down even faster and rougher. you were a mess at that point. your mascara was running down your cheeks, spit practically all over your face and your arms were shaking.

john's cock started to twitch uncontrollably and you knew he was close to releasing, making you swirl your tongue with even more pressure. but before he could empty his load into your mouth, he withdrew your head from his length, a guttural growl escaping his throat. "I'm only gonna fill up your little cunt."

his words sent sparks through your lower half, feeling the heat pooling in your panties, slowly dripping down your thighs from how much you're turned on.

you tried to catch your breath when he already pulled you up to straddle his waist again before he laid you down on the sofa. he immediately gripped your shirt, tearing it off your body. next, he got rid your shorts, pulling your panties with it. he glared down at your form, sprawled out beneath him and he could feel jolts of pleasure shooting through his entire body. the only piece of clothing that was in his way to see you completely bare, was your bra. in a matter of seconds he unclasped it and added it to the pile of clothes.

and that's when your panic set it.

you were still a virgin and he didn't know.

you were unsure if you should tell him, not knowing how he would react. you already felt like he was a little hesitant about doing all this with you, simply out of respect to your grandpa. he was his closest friend, his most loyal and go to person. and then betraying him like that and fucking with his granddaughter?

you just knew that this was eating john up innerly. but his desire seemed to win. nonetheless, you had to tell him, you wanted him to know.

you watched him with a quick beating heart when he removed his shirt and leaned down, his hands and legs trapping you between his body. without a second thought, john bowed his head down and began to suck on your neck, prepping your hot skin with open mouthed kisses. a quiet moan fell from your lips, giving in to his touch. he trailed his kissed down to your breasts, sucking feverishly on your flesh before letting his tongue swirl around your hardened nipple, sucking harshly. john hummed out at the feeling, making his way down your belly, desperately wanting to taste you. but that's when you cupped his face with your hands and forced him to look up to you.

john grinned up at you, coming closer to a point where your lips almost touched. "I can't wait to finally taste you, ruin that little pussy." he groaned in your ear, his hot breath tickling your skin. your breathing got heavier and your hands slightly shook. you had to tell him now before it was too late.

"uhm- john, I-i need to tell you something." you pointed out with a shaky voice, your face turning aside, avoiding eye contact. "anything, baby." he replied, before he went back to kissing your neck.

"it's just... I've never done something like this before." you whispered, practically almost inaudible. "I didn't hear you, say it again." john mumbled between kisses, not even registering your words, being too caught up with worshipping your body.

you sighed out, lips pouting. "I'm a virgin, John." you said now louder, your eyes searching for his. and this time he must have heard it. his movements stopped and his now narrowed eyes met yours. without you even fully understanding what was happening, he removed his body from yours in the blink of an eye, grabbing his clothes which rested on the floor. "john, I-"

"no, don't even start with your stupid excuses. I knew that this would be wrong and that I shouldn't even have let it come so far. but taking you virginity? disgusting." he hisses harshly, voice clearly raised as he turned away.

you felt tears pricking in your eyes. that's not how you imagined it would go. you laid there completely horny, embarrassed but also hurt. you dearly wanted him to be your first time and now he left you all railed up and wetness pooling between your thighs. "but I want you to continue, please! I want you to take my virginity. and I won't regret you being my first time, I promise. please, john." you bitterly whined, hoping that he would change his mind.

you heard him taking in a deep breath as he turned around again, eyes darker than before.

"please, I need you!" you whimpered, rubbing your thighs uncomfortably together, the painful ache in your core unbearable at that point. "John..." you pleaded him, glaring up at him with puppy eyes.

finally he sighs, dropping his clothes again before getting on top of you again. "are you sure, y/n? i won't be able to control myself. " he said in a dangerous, low tone, sending shivers down your spine.

"yes john, I'm sure. please, touch me." you replied impatiently, wrapping your legs around his torso, arms around his shoulders to pull him in as close as possible. "good, because now there is no going back anymore." he rasped as he leaned in, claiming your lips. you gasped into the kiss when you felt the tip of his cock nudging at your clit, shock waves of pleasure rushing through your veins. "I need you john." you moaned into the kiss, pressing your hips up to gain friction. he groaned out in response, sneaking a hand down your body to let a finger slide between your folds. "fuck, you're so wet." he purred, slowly pushing a finger into your warm hole. your head fell back, breaking your kiss, at finally feeling him. "need to prepare that little pussy first." he growled, while licking the spot right beneath your ear.

with how slick you were, john could easily slip another finger in, moaning out at your tightness. he began to move them in and out rather fast, curling them up to reach your spongy spot. "feels so good." you whined, toes curling from his abuse. a third finger teased at your hole, collecting your juice before pushing it in as well, this time with a little more pressure. your eyes rolled back at the stretch of his thick digits, a slight pain cursing through you.

john scissored his fingers stretching your walls further before he went back to pumping them at a quick pace. he plunged them inside you a few more times before pulling slowly out, deciding that you were ready for his cock. you whined pathetically at the loss, needing him so bad.

you lifted your head to look down when you felt his tip nudging at your entrance. he gripped himself, lining up before looking at you again. "ready?"

you immediately nodded your head yes, excited to finally feel his cock inside of you. never breaking eye contact, john carefully pushed his tip inside of your cunt, eliciting a sharp his from you. "you okay?" he asked you with a soft voice. "yes, continue please." you answered breathlessly.

obeying your request, he pushed his hips forward with a swift motion and to your shock he pushed in his whole length. a yelp tore from your throat, followed by a painful cry. it almost was too much for you. his size stretching you walls to their limit, tip pressing against your cervix and the feeling of being this full made you dizzy. "ah- john.”

"told you i couldn’t hold myself back.” he uttered, his dark eyes fixated on your lips.

your walls clamped helplessly around him, trying to get used to his monstrous size and the burning sensation didn’t make it better. "you’re so big.” you cried out in a high pitched tone, eyes shut.

john looked down to where your body’s connected, gritting his teeth and clenching his jaw at the sight. he could feel his dick twitch being squeezed this tight between your perfect velvety walls. he did his best to restrain him, wanting you to get used to him.

but john couldn’t.

he was already too obsessed with being inside of you, the feeling indescribable for him. it was like you were made for only him.

with a groan he pulled his hips back, almost slipping out of your cunt before thrusting his whole length in again, deep and hard.

"oh god!” you sobbed, tears spilling down your cheeks.

"can’t stop myself, you feel too good wrapped around me.” he mumbled as he began to pound into you with a rather fast pace. strangled hisses left your mouth as he began to fuck you, the pain of the stretch still remaining.

to ease your pain, john sneaked his fingers down to your clit, rubbing it in quick circular motions. your legs immediately began to shake at the sudden pleasure, moans and whines escaping your throat. john groaned out shamelessly while getting you into a new position. he grabbed ahold of your leg, pushing it over his shoulders, allowing him to thrust even deeper. "ah-john!!” you almost yelled out, the pleasure and pain mixing perfectly together.

with every harsh thrusts of his hips, your breasts bounced back and forward deliciously, only adding fuel to john’s high. and hell did it approach fast. he was on the verge of cumming already, enjoying the feeling of your sweet walls way too much. with every roll of his fingers, your walls seemed to tighten more and more around him, making it hard for him to hold in his orgasm. his dick twitched uncontrollably, the veins were pulsating with need.

"fuck, i’m gonna cum princess.” he uttered, rubbing your clit faster and increasing the speed of his hips, determined to coax an orgasm out of you. and you felt the coil in your abdomen tighten too. the overwhelming pleasure you received from him, his dick hitting spots you didn’t even know existed perfectly and the stimulation on your clit made you see stars. "i’m close— ah- don’t stop.” you cried out, hands gripping tightly at his back, your nails digging little moons into his skin.

john took this as a sign, using all of his strength to pound into you in an animalistic way, ignoring the jerking of his hips. "now.” he just growled and with a few more harsh strokes and rubs on your clit you were sent to heaven.

the most powerful orgasm you ever experienced hit you like a lightning. your toes curled uncomfortably, legs were quivering and a moan that even pornstars couldn’t keep up with tore from your throat. "JOHN!!” your release triggered john’s even more and with a guttural groan he finally let his seed spurt deep inside of you, filling you up to the brim. he kept thrusting, making sure that every bit of his cum gets pumped inside you. you threw your head back at the overstimulation, body trashing and twitching at the intense assault.

finally, taking a deep breath in, john stopped his movements and released his fingers from your clit, collapsing on top of you. "you did so good, princess.” he mumbled while pressing soft kisses to your cheek.

“that was…” you exhaled deeply. "amazing.” smiling at him. john couldn’t suppress a grin as well, giving a small peck to your lips. your arms were still wrapped around his neck lazily and the feeling of him still buried inside you made this moment even more intimate.

when you looked up at him, you saw a devilish smirk plastered on his face. “but i didn’t get to taste you.” he pointed out, making you chuckle slightly.

“who said you couldn’t do it now?” you smirked at him, accepting his challenge. “you’re so fucking hot.” he just replied before pressing a last kiss to your lips. he carefully slipped his now soft dick out of your hole, eliciting a whine from you.

in the blink of an eye he was settled between your thighs, spreading them widely. he glanced down to your pussy and the sight of it made him hard again. his cum was leaking out of your entrance, slowly dripping down to your ass. he didn’t waste any time, pressing a few messy kisses to your inner thighs before wrapping his lips around your sensitive clit. you mewled out at the sensation, back arching off the couch.

john gathered his cum with his fingers before pushing it inside of you again, wanting you to have all of it. he curled his fingers up, reaching your g- spot immediately as he let them thrust into you rapidly, licking and swirling around your clit in the process.

you were shaking at the overstimulation, it almost felt too much for you. the pressure on your highly sensitive nud made you feel like your whole body was on fire.

john moaned at your taste, lapping at your cunt like a starved man, the vibrations he caused only added to your pleasure. your hands reached out and immediately gripped his raven hair, tugging on it harshly. "john— too much.” a fervent whimper hung in the air mixing with the squelching sounds of your pussy and the heavy scent of sex which made your brain all fuzzy.

“you can take it, doll.” he mumbled against your cunt, eyes connecting with yours as you saw him smirk mischievously. your lip pouted as you registered his words, head tipping back.

his digits rutted into your overstimulated spot with a unmerciful pace, making your orgasm approach quickly. he knew that you were getting closer and closer, your quivering thighs and constant high pitched moans making it obvious to him. john only increased the pace of his tongue flicking against your clit and began to suck firmly, determined to coax another orgasm out of you. the only thing on your mind was john and how good he fucked you with his talented fingers.

john’s free hand made its way up your body, gently caressing your sides before it gripped one of your breasts that was jiggling in sync with his thrusts, massaging and squeezing it.

your whole body was tingling and you were on the verge of cumming, almost reaching your peak. your grip on his hair tightened and you instinctively pushed his head harder against your cunt, thighs clamping around it.

“shit! i’m gonna cum!” you managed to squeal out, voice shaky and rough. john let out an answering groan, letting you know that you were allowed to cum.

for the last time, john sped up his fingers to an inhuman pace and that sent you straight into oblivion. a strangled cry rattled against the walls as you finally orgasmed, your body trashing around at the indescribable experience. he fucked you through your high, wanting you to feel every last spark of pleasure. tears pricked in the corner of your eyes, heavy breaths falling from your lips as you slowly came down from your release.

john now also slowed down his thrusts, mouth releasing your abused clit. he stared up at your fucked out form, proud of the masterpiece he created. after a few more pounds of his digits he carefully pulled out, immediately taking them in his mouth, licking off every bit of your sweet juices that coated them.

your eyes were shut tightly, trying to calm down from the intense orgasm. you felt john moving and when you opened your eyes again he already had you up in bridal style, you didn’t even notice all that as you were still caught in the after waves of your high.

he pressed your body tightly against his chest, his lips kissing your forehead sweetly. “my good girl.” he whispered in your ear as he began to walk out of the living room. “i’m fucking proud of you.”

you hummed in reply, snuggling up against him. “i’m glad we did this.” you mumbled, exhaustedly closing your eyes. john just quietly chuckled out, kissing you again. “let’s get you to bed, princess.”

[matthew-gray-gublers-babygirl]

Safe - John Wick x Fem!Reader

Summary: John comes home from work and he is wounded, and as his worried wife, you help him.

Warnings: swearing, oral m!receiving, blood/gore, talk of violence, mainly fluff.

Enjoy!

You sit alone in your large kitchen, biting your nails and shaking your leg as you anxiously wait for your husband to come home.

His profession was extremely dangerous. Every time he went out you didn’t know if he was alive. Whenever you heard a car pass by your house, you wondered if it were the police coming to inform you that your husband had passed.

You knew that you had to make certain sacrifices that came with being married to The John Wick, the Boogie Man, as they call him.

You hear the door unlock, and your breath hitched. Running to the door, you are met with John. You wrap your arms around his neck, holding back tears as you nuzzle your face into the crook of us neck. “Oh, John…”

His hands weakily wrap around your waist. “Y/N…” he sighs, resting his chin atop your head.

Your hand trails down the chest of his suit. You find the red substance of blood on his white shirt. “You were shot?”

“Stabbed,” he says. “Not too bad. I’ve been though worse,”

You sigh. “Yeah, just stabbed.” You say sarcastically. “What if next time you get stabbed even worse, or shot, and you don’t make it through?” You question.

John gives you a saddened look. “I’m sorry, Y/N. You have a right to be mad, and worried.”

You give him an angered gaze, but it slowly fades as you hear the sincerity in his voice. You lean up to kiss him. “You’re right,” you say.

You take him to the kitchen where you strip him of his suit jacket and button up shirt. “This is going to sting,” you say. “I know,” he replies.

The wound was shallow, but it was still gushing a fair amount of blood. Once you were able to slow down the bleeding, you begin to clean it. John lightly hisses as you disinfect his wound.

You quickly bandage it neatly, then reward him with a warm kiss on his lips. “You have to stop this, John,”

“I know,” he says again. “I- I can retire, if you want.”

“Will you really do that for me?”

“Of course, baby. You are more important than work.”

You smile softly. “If you think it’s the best, then you can. I will support whatever you do,” you say. “Will you be safe?” You ask.

“We are safe. We will always be safe.”

“No, will you be safe?”

John pauses for a concerning amount of time. “I will be safe.” He says. “And if anybody comes after you, or me, I will kill them.”

“John,” you say like a disappointed mother. But, you couldn’t help but smile. You loved your mass murderer husband.

“That’s the spirit, love,” he smiles and gives you a kiss.

“You should go wash up,” you tell him. His face was cut, as well as his hair slicked back with sweat.

“Join me?”

“Very funny,” you laugh before sending him up to the bathroom to clean off the sins of the night. “Be mindful of your bandages,”

“Yes, ma’am,” John chuckled.

John finds his way to the master bathroom. He strips the rest of his clothes and got into the shower. His bandage inevitably got wet.

He ran his hands through his hair, feeling as the heterogeneous mixture of sweat, styling gel and water ran down his back. It felt so releiving to wash himself of the stress and torment of his job.

He used a musky scented soap to wash off the sweat and grime he had accumulated through the night. He exited the shower, wrapped a towel around his waist before redressing his wound.

John left the bathroom, towel still lazily around his waist. You were in bed, reading a book as you awaited for your husband to join you.

You couldn’t help but look at his chiseled abs and cutting hip bones. Of course, you also couldn’t ignore his broad shoulders and tattoo covered back.

“Y/N. You’re starring,”

“Oh,” you say. “Sorry,” you laugh, and he smirks. “Is it such a crime to appreciate my husbands body?”

“No. Just funny to call you out on it,” he says. He grabs a pair of sweatpants and slipped them on.

“Come lay down, babe,” you pull back the comforter in the empty space for him to fill. He slowly lays down, and he groans as his aching back hits the bed.

“Are you really going to retire?” You ask as your hand gently rests on his chest. You slowly draw circles on his skin, avoiding any bruised areas.

“Anything for you,”

You smile, and he slowly leans in to connect your lips in a gently kiss. “I will love you forever…” he murmurs agaisnt your lips. “I will love you when I’m below the ground, and I will love you after the earth ceases to exist…”

You rest your forehead against his, shakily sighing. “I love you, too. Always and forever…”

John kisses you again, hungerly needing your touch and presence against his skin. He gently grips your hair as he hums against your soft, pillowy lips.

His hand reaches for your waist, pulling your laying body closer to his. He squeezes your flesh though your sleep shirt. You whine at the tight squeeze.

Johns lips trail off yours, adventuring down your jaw to suck hot sores on your neck. His hand on your waist moves up, dangerously close to your chest. He cups your breast with his sore and bruised hands through your shirt, gently massaging it in his palm. He knew just how to make you fold.

“John-“ you whisper.

“What, love?”

“Not tonight. You need to heal.” You tell him.

He rests his head on your shoulder, sighing softly. “You’re right,” he whispers. “It’s just so hard to keep my hands off you.” He glances down at his lap, seeing the tent growing in his sweatpants.

“Y/N?”

“Yes, baby?” You reply.

“I- um. I know you said I have to heal. But, what am I supposed to do about that?” He asks, moving away from the crook of your neck to show the erection in his pants.

You think for a moment, keeping your eyes fixated on his bulge. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t use my hands or my mouth on you,” you tell him, and he grins.

You reach for the waistband of his sweatpants, slowly pulling them off his thighs. Johns cock springs out from his pants. He was hard and throbbing just by touching your breasts.

You grasp his length. His breath hitched at the sight of your hand around his dick. You slowly begin stroking him. You hover above him, letting a string of spit slowly dripping down onto his tip.

“Oh-“ he mumbled as the warm liquid touches his pulsating crown.

You gently kiss the tip, your hand still stroking his shaft slowly.

“Y/N…”

You whimper against his cock at the sound of his voice. You knew you had to resist him. You couldn’t risk opening his wound and causing him any pain. Hopefully an orgasm would help his aching body in some way.

You slowly take in his length. You suck the tip, humming at the salty taste of his pre-cum. You knew he wasn’t going to last too long. He never lasted long when you sucked him off.

“Just like that, baby,” he praised, “don’t stop- fuck. Don’t stop-“

You didn’t stop, and you weren’t going to stop until you pleasured him to your full ability.

You take in more of his cock. John shivered at the sight of his erection engulfed in your mouth.

“I’m close- shit. I’m gonna cum. Fuck.” He moans.

You began sucking him faster. You felt as your lips glided over the thriving veins on his cock, but always focusing on the tip. He loved it when you toyed with his tip.

His hips shudder, causing you to gag. “Sorry, baby,” he quickly says. You don’t reply, gagging again. You didn’t care if you gagged on his cock. You loved it, because you knew that you were doing good.

His hips jerk up again. He grips your hair, moaning your name as you quickly and steadily suck his cock. He began chasing his release.

“Fuck!” He moans. His eyes roll back, head hitting the pillow as his cum shoots into your mouth. You always loved the taste of his cum.

You finish him off with your hand, swallowing all his arousal as you did. Cum continued to shoot out, going all over your hand as he bucked his hips into your palm.

You happily licked it off, humming at the salty, yet at the same time, sweet taste.

“Fuck. Thank you, baby…” he whispers. The pleasure helped ease some of his pain.

“Anything for you,” you smile. You kiss him, and he tastes his own cum off your lips.

“Can I return the favour?” He asks, toying with the elastic band of your sleep shorts.

You shake your head. “Not tonight. You can in the morning once you have some rest,” you tell him. He frowns, but obeys.

“Okay,” John says. He fixes his sweatpants, and you grab a tissue off the night stand to wipe the spit and cum off your hand, and a bit of the white fluid that got on his stomach. John reachs over to turn off the bedside lamp, groaning as his body was strained to make the reach.

“Goodnight, baby…” you lay your head on his chest, yet again mindful of the bruises and cuts.

“Goodnight. I love you…” John whispers

“I love you too…”

[paleepeaches]

John Wick Yandere Headcanons

Never done this before so be kind to me! But anyway I just had these thoughts and needed to word vomit them up!

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome, ddlg,

A/N: Wouldn't a fic be cute?

Okay so I know I'm not the first to say this and won't be the last but John is a fucking Yandere.

He's a full-blown stalker who probably sees you at a bar or even something so normal as a grocery store.

This man is LONELY af. Since Helen passed he can not find someone else for the life of him.

That's until you come along with your pretty doe eyes and sweet nature.

You can be younger than him and he'll be fine with it. John doesn't mind babysitting a cute bimbo like you

You'll catch his eye with your soft voice and sweet smile. Most people his age have a smoker's voice or are married.

He becomes OBSESSED with you quickly. I mean very swift like within 2 days of seeing you not even talking.

He'll just stalk tf out of you probably at your work. He'll see you bagging groceries or serving drinks and just observe you with customers.

He'll take note of what days you work and don't. He'll mark it on his calendar, and circle it in red like the old man he is.

Once he figures out your schedule and what time you get off, what route you take, if you drive or walk he'll follow you.

He's a skilled hitman so he knows how to disappear and follow someone without them noticing.

He'll stalk you all the way to your apartment and once he's sure you're asleep he'll break in.

He's scoped out your place enough to deduct that you have no pets. Even if you did he'd know how to handle a dog.

John is precise and determined which is why he'd be so keen on placing hidden cameras all over your house.

He'd position them in the living room, kitchen, shower, and even your bedroom.

He'd want to see your most intimate and private moments but not totally invade it.

Of course, you wouldn't find out. Your head is too stuffed in your phone scrolling through social media or online shopping. You got an addiction but it's okay once you're his he'll spoil you! John has a lot of pocket money from all his jobs!

How will he get you?

John doesn't half-ass anything. He's learned to see through tough missions. Even ones he didn't enjoy. Capturing you though...? He would enjoy it.

He'd enjoy setting a date, waiting outside your apartment with his car off.

He'd prepared all the necessary equipment such as ropes, duct tape, and a gun if he needed to threaten you but he'd find that would only scare you more and he didn't want his little girl frightened of him.

He'd go about it more skillfully, more stealthy.

John entered your home after he was sure you entered the deepest REM cycle. He snuck in the window you often left open. Poor forgetful you, always leaving windows unlocked.

One time he found your door unlocked which was a dreadful surprise for him. He locked it right after he watched you sleep for a whole two hours.

See? You needed him to look after you. He'd try to justify his insane actions with that.

With a completely guilt-free head, he'd enter your home, make his way into your bedroom, and see you asleep all cuddled up in your pink plush covers.

You'd look so cute and docile breathing softly.

He'd smile, admiring you before pulling out a clean needled from his jacket pocket. John pricked the needle into a vial of clear liquid, sucking up the fluid before administrating it to you.

Your eyes didn't even flutter open as he injected it.

"Such a good girl." John would speak softly to you, smoothing down your hair and kissing your forehead.

He'd pack your favorite stuffed animal, clothes, and even your cute collections of calico critters or sonny angels, whatever cute trinkets you collected.

He'd want you to feel comfortable at his home. Y'all's home.

[ultravioletrayz]

KINKTOBER

╰┈➤ DAY THREE: TEMP PLAY w/ JOHN WICK

As you walk into the penthouse suite of the Continental, you can't help but feel your cheeks flush at the sight of John sitting alone at the kitchenette counter, head resting on his hand as he stares blankly at the wall. The sobering reality of his solitude seems to hang in the air, a stark contrast to the lavish opulence that surrounds him.

Everyone knows of his cold exterior, but nevertheless, it was part of your job, and your deeper wishes, to potentially melt that icy heart of his. What better route to a sad man's heart than some complimentary booze?

"Good evening, Mr. Wick," you greet him, your voice a soft purr, as you place the ice bucket carrying a chilled bottle of Blue Label on the bar, leaning against it with a hip jutted out. "A little something to enhance your stay."

John looks up at you, his intense gaze seemingly able to pierce through your very soul. A slight smirk plays on his lips, and you detect a hint of mischief in his once inscrutable gaze.

"That's very kind," he replies, his voice deep and gravelly, sending shivers down your spine. "But I doubt it can compare to the scotch I could order straight from the source."

It's almost sad how quickly your cheeks heat up and how tightly your thighs clench together, delightedly aware of the innuendo laced in his words. This man, legendary and deadly, is flirting with you.

"Well, I could be persuaded to stay and ensure the scotch is... to your taste," You reply, matching his suggestive tone, eyes unable to resist drinking in John's rugged features and the way in which his mere presence allures you.

John let's out a soft huff, similar to a chuckle, standing up from his seat to loom over you, taking in the way your breath hitches at his actions. It's been so long since he's been met with beauty that could challenge that of his late wife's, and as much as he tries to keep it under wraps and focus on business... he's a man at the end of the day. A man with needs.

"Is that so?" He whispers, maintaining his intimidating, unfaltering eye contact with you as he reaches into the ice bucket and pulls out a small cube. Your brows furrow, gaze darting between John's face and the ice cube in his hand. His smirk widens as he holds up the ice cube, dripping condensation. With a mischievous finger, he circles your bottom lip, and you part them obediently as you suck on the cold treat, the taste of pure, clean water contrasting delightfully with the intense heat coiling low in your belly. Your eyes flutter closed under the weight of his intense gaze, creating a small circle of darkness for you to bask in.

Suddenly, his hand moves in a graceful arc beneath your chin, guiding you to lift your face. The chill of another ice cube makes itself known as he presses it against your throbbing lips. There's something mesmerising in the way your breath fogs the air around his handholding your cheek steady with his strong fingers. You surrender to the cold dance, each slippery stroke of the frosty cube making every nerve ending in your body shiver deliciously.

You let out a soft whimper when John pulls the half melted ice cubes away from your hot, needy mouth, lips chilled and turned in a pout.

Quickly, John retrieves a brand new ice cube, pressing it to your swollen lips before sliding it down across your collarbone, coming to rest just over the swell of your breasts hidden underneath your white blouse. You gasp as he places it firmly against the fabric, instantly soaking it through with water that radiates from the chill of exposure.

Your body reacts instinctively under his touch– your nipples pebbling in response to the sensory bombardment. As if noticing this detail for the first time, John grins more broadly, tracing the damp spot with an icy finger that sends sparks dancing along your nerves when it slides past a now fully erect nipple.

"Beautiful..." John murmurs to himself, throwing the ice cube back into the bucket to grope your tits over your blouse with his strong, bruised hands, eyes trained on the way the wet, translucent fabric acts as such a flimsy barrier to the pretty pink bra hiding beneath it, and the perky nipples beneath that.

Before you can fully digest this unexpected new level of interaction, there's a sharp chime echoing from John's pocket. A text message of some kind, and it's obviously important if it's on John Wick's phone.

In an instant, the swirl of reciprocated heat and the cold of those dirty ice cubes dissipates as John tucks you away with a gentleness that makes you question every preconceived notion about him that you previously held true. With a parting look that seems as though it could hold entire novels of unspoken emotion and promises whispered into thin air, he excuses himself from your presence, leaving nothing behind but an unopened bottle of whisky and your shivering body.

You find yourself replaying those frozen moments between you two until long after John had left you alone in the room. The chilly moisture on your chest lingers just long enough for you to gather yourself before heading back to business as usual, forever changed by one enigmatic, cold man.

i got a bit carried away with this one lol

[ruskaroma]

First time with John Wick plssssssssssssssssssss

I truly think that the first time with John would be loving yet rough. I’m sorry, but that’s just how I paint him out to be.

He’s a killer, so it’s no surprise that his hands are naturally heavy and rough. He would touch your body with those large, dangerous hands, forever tainting it with his cruelty and brutality, making you submit yourself to his mercy.

For a man with few words, John sure does have his ways to make you shake and crumble under his touch while he says the most filthy, diabolical shit that could make even the devil blush. For some reason, he just finds you so beautiful wrecked and fucked that he can’t keep his words to himself.

The first time the two of you had sex, it was because he was jealous. You knew he was jealous but he didn’t admit that he was, and that was enough answer for you to get fucked as soon as the two of you arrived at your apartment.

It was a miracle that you managed to make him come with you to a company party even though all he did all night was stand beside you like he’s your bodyguard. Well, in a sense, he was your bodyguard, but his particular outfit that night got your co-workers wondering how the hell you were able to afford one.

John had kept his hand on the small of your back the majority of the night, like that was enough to show everybody that he was not only your bodyguard but also your very loving boyfriend who tolerated everyone in that room just for you.

But when he left to go to the bathroom and came back to a sight of another man being too friendly to you, John only realized that the whole “hand on the back” wasn’t enough to shoo those motherfuckers away.

John settled himself beside you again, but this time, he made sure to wrap his arm around your waist and pulled you closer to his warmth, pretending like the other man beside you wasn’t there, because John could really not bother to care.

“Have I left you for too long?” 

“What?” You furrowed your brows, confused.

John didn’t answer after that, but he did glance at the man who was already staring at him and his actions the moment he arrived. He also didn’t introduce himself, the man simply didn’t deserve it.

“Uh, is he your boyfriend?” The man interjected, and you felt John’s fingers twitch gripping your waist.

“Oh–uh, yeah, he is,” you replied sheepishly, then turning your head to smile tightly at John who was just raising a brow at you. “You probably thought he was my bodyguard, eh? Everyone’s been saying that the moment we arrived.”

“Yeah, I thought that, too,” he laughed awkwardly.

The conversation soon died out. Maybe it had something to do with the man just feeling really awkward because he truly didn’t know John was your boyfriend, or maybe it had something to do with the fact that John had been staring at him dead in the eyes threateningly while you weren’t looking.

When the two of you were on your way home, John had been dead silent with his hand on your thigh the only thing indicating that he’s not as mad as he made himself out to be and he was just really jealous. You know a jealous man when you see one, you just didn’t think you’d see John being jealous first hand.

“Come on, babe, you really not going to speak?” You whined from your seat, grabbing his rough hand to your softer ones as you placed a kiss on the back of it. When you didn’t get a reaction, you pouted childishly. “Jooohhnnnn. Babeeeeee. Babyyyyy.”

John still didn’t react. He kept his eyes on the road.

“You’re for real ignoring me because you’re jealous? Really, John? Bit childish, isn’t it?”

Then, his eyes narrowed as he ripped his focus on the road and onto yours. “I’m not jealous.”

“So that gets you talking?”

“Because I’m not jealous.”

“Sure, sure.” You nodded your head like you’re convinced, and you saw John turned his attention back on the road again. You took this opportunity to continue poking at him. “I mean, it was kinda your fault that he assumed I was single.”

John hit the brakes too hard than usual at the red light, and that was enough to prove your theory that he was, in fact, jealous.

He looked at you offended, and it was kinda hard to believe that you were getting to see that expression on his face first hand considering he rarely ever shows any emotions.

“You know I’m not very big on PDA,” he grumbled under his breath. “I thought my hand on your back was enough. Clearly he didn’t get the memo.”

“So you are jealous?”

Again, he didn’t respond. For a very dangerous well known assassin, John was sure as hell a bit childish when it came to you, but you liked that about him. That only meant he trusted you enough to feel vulnerable around you, show you a side of him he never showed to any one else.

John parked his car in the parking lot and the two of you walked in comfortable silence. You had your arm tangled with his, walking side by side until you reached the elevator. It was only then you had felt the touch of his hand on your ass.

“Well, well, well… Is John Wick finally making the first move?”

Maybe teasing him was a bad idea, because your smirk was immediately wiped off when you’re thrown against the wall and creating a loud bang.

“John, holy shit, I don’t wanna pay for the damage–”

“Shut up,” he growled under his breath, ducking his face down and inhaling your scent, opening his mouth to suck the skin, his sharp teeth bruising your neck that you yelped and wrapped your arms around his broad back. 

“J–John, please don’t fuck me here–I wanna get fu–fucked on a real bed for our first time–”

Before he could even answer, the elevator’s door opened and he hauled himself off you in a matter of seconds. An old woman walked in, not bothering to look at the two of you as she pressed on the button to go up. You’re one floor above, you and John were just sharing side glances the entire ride.

When you reached your floor, John was the one to grip your wrist and pull you out of the elevator, already getting your keys in his suit pocket while you trip and giggle following behind him.

“I’m so excited–”

“I’m glad you find this amusing.”

“Are you kidding? I’m about to get fucked by my boyfriend for the first time in our relationship, of course I’m excited.”

Once John opened the door, he pushed you inside in no time and slammed it behind him. “Who said anything about fucking you?”

“What?” You pouted, growing confused. 

“What if I don’t want to? What if I think you don’t deserve my cock?”

And instantly, you flushed at the words that came out of his mouth that you couldn’t reply anything other than a gasp when he launched himself forward and pressed his lips to you. His beard tickled your chin as his hands went behind your thighs, lifting you off the floor and wrapped your legs around his body.

“I was holding myself back for so long, I was doing so well, I was waiting for the moment to fuck you in a bed of roses like you deserve, but that guy just had to come in and ruin all my self control,” John said against your mouth, pressing his hard cock in his pants against your already wet cunt as he slammed you against the wall.

“I d–don’t want a bed of roses anyways,” you breathed, moaning at the feeling of his hot, throbbing crotch against your own, wanting nothing but to just pull it out and shove it inside you and ride him all night long, but it seemed like John had another idea of how the night would go. “Please, John, just–just fuck me, come on, I know you want to–”

“I don’t like how that guy was looking at you earlier. Like you were some piece of meat,” he nipped at your neck, you felt another wave of wetness drip out of you just from his voice. “Just want to mark you up, bruise your neck and body just so everyone would know you’re fucking mine–”

“Oh god–”

And that’s how you found yourself with legs spread on the bed with John between them. His right hand was around your throat, his other was gripping your hair hard, and his cock was pounding in and out of you like there was no tomorrow.

He’s so fucking big – so huge, so large, Jesus Christ – and you swore you were squealing like a pig. Your cunt was so sloppy and wet, the sound of your wetness squelching around John’s cock was making you so dizzy and lightheaded, not to mention when he was tightening the hand around your throat every few seconds, you were keening and moaning like a whore as you rambled all your dirty thoughts.

“Oh god–oh god, John, please–please, you feel s–so good–” you moaned, nails digging at his back as the bedpost slammed against the wall with each thrust. “Wanted–wanted this for s–so long. So big and huge and–fuck, I’m gonna–”

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” John commented, letting his eyes wander between your bodies as he watched his thick cock plummeling inside your tight little cunt, clit puffy and sore from him sloppily eating you out earlier and he couldn’t be any more proud. You were so sensitive and reactive, every touch delivered a noise out of you. “Cum on my cock, princess. Make a mess all over my dick and I’ll fill you up so deep you’ll feel me until the next week.”

That was the line that threw you over the edge. Head thrown back and screaming, you held onto his back as you came around his cock, knowing the night was only just beginning.

[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!

[persephone411]

Imagine sucking John wick off.

Him sitting on a bed at the continental, legs spread slightly with you kneeling between them. His heavy breath and his dark eyes watching you while you look up at him, your hands resting on his muscular thighs. After a bit, a deep ,,good girl“ leaves his mouth and his hand finds its way into your hair, firstly caressing it, then as he gets closer grabbing it. A groan escapes him and he closes his eyes ,,just like that little one, you’re such a good girl“

(This gif was the inspiration. I literally can’t think of anything else when seeing it)

[generalkenobee]

Bodyguard!John Wick who has to follow you everywhere, always lurking behind you like a silent shadow

Bodyguard!John Wick Who definitely glares at anyone you're talking to, god forbid if it's a boy from your school or a boyfriend

Bodyguard!John Wick who always puts your priorities before his own and who would do anything for you at any cost

Bodyguard!John Wick who has to tag along to stupid events such as shopping at the mall, or going into Victoria secret for a new bra because he has to make sure you're safe

Bodyguard!John Wick who is so much bigger then you in every aspect that it's almost funny to watch this large man follow a sweet little thing through a bath and body works

Bodyguard!John Wick who is always honest when you ask his opinion on a new frilly dress you bought (he was there obviously but it's still fun to play dress up) he'd sit on the edge of your bed while you spun around for him asking what he thought

Bodyguard!John Wick who thinks you're the cutest thing ever with how you view the world. In contrast to some of the horrors he's seen you always seem so happy

[p4arll]

Y/N: I don't know how to tell you this, but... I love you.

John: That's great, Y/N. Especially considering the fact we've been married for 6 fucking years.