#john wick age gap | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

keanusbabydoll · 2 months ago

Text

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.”

REQUESTS ARE OPENED<3

#smut #john wick smut #john wick x reader #john wick x y/n #john wick x you #john wick imagine #john wick chapter 4 #keanu reeves #keanu reeves smut #john wick fanfic #keanu reeves x you #john wick x virgin!reader #john wick x virgin reader

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floatyflowers · 2 years ago

Text

Dark! Hannibal Lecter, and John Wick x Young Mother! Reader

(Warning: Age gap, reader is a legal adult)

Hannibal Lecter

You booked a thereby session with him, but he did not expect you to attend with your baby.

"I really apologise, but I couldn't leave my daughter at home, and the babysitter cancelled in the last minute-"

"It's alright, Ms. (L/n), I don't mind at all"

Apparently, you needed therapy to get over your boyfriend's death as it traumatized you.

And Hannibal found it as a chance to get closer to you as the sessions became frequent and longer.

Allowing him to be more obsessed with you.

"I advise you to find a new partner, it will help you move on"

"No one would like to date a single mother like me, Dr. Lecter"

"Nonsense"

Little by little, Hannibal became closer to you providing for you and your child, making sure all your needs are met with expensive gifts.

Even though you refused at first, but Hannibal managed to convince you that he is doing all of this because you are a dear friend.

However, you don't know that he is the one who murdered your boyfriend from the beginning.

And made your friend suggest him as a therapist.

It is all going according to plan.

The next step is marriage and him adopting your baby.

John Wick

You were the daughter of Viggo Tarasov and a single young mother living in your father's mansion in peace.

That was until your brother, Iosef, screwed things up and decided to kill John Wick's dog and steal his car.

Of course, it led to your family demise.

You don't know why he didn't kill you and your son, maybe he wasn't heartless as he seemed.

When John took you and your son with him to live in his home, you did not fight him, fearing for your baby's life.

For the first month living with John, you refused to speak to him and stay almost all day in your room with your son.

Honestly, John bought all the necessities, making sure you are comfortable.

"Why did you keep me and my baby alive?"

That's the first question you ask him after the tragic night, no fear in your eyes, only confusion.

"It's not your fault"

That answer didn't satisfy your curiosity.

"Then why did you force me to come with you?"

John only grabs your delicate hands with his rough ones, smiling a bit.

"So, you can take the place of my wife"

Part Two

#tw: toxic relationships #yandere john wick #john wick x reader #yandere hannibal #hannibal lecter x reader #age difference #obsessive thoughts

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97keanu · 2 months ago

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୨୧ request ୨୧ daddy dom jw! reader in a collar and leash! size kink!

𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒔𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒔𝒐 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒍𝒚...

CW/Tags: smut, pet play, leash and collar, s&m dynamics, age gap, p in v, oral f/m receiving, trust dynamics, john is a VERY good dom <3, inexperienced!reader (to bdsm), commanding and authoritive john, use of daddy/puppy/good girl etc, SIZE KINK, John is a firm but caring dom, filthy smut, john ofc does after care, emotional reader after sex, might be the dirtiest thing I’ve written tbh…

Words: 5.3k

The steady rhythm of John Wick's footsteps on his morning walk always woke you up before your alarm. Like clockwork, he'd pass your house at 6:15 a.m., his black-on-black attire and leash in hand as his dog trotted obediently beside him. It was routine. Comforting. A reminder that the man next door wasn’t your typical middle aged dad-type—he didn’t care to invite you to the latest neighborhood cookout, or wave enthusiastically as he mowed his lawn on Sunday mornings. No, he was painfully, infuriatingly disciplined, in all he did.

At first, you only noticed him in passing. The quiet but polite neighbor who always nodded in acknowledgment, even when your conversations were limited to small talk at the mailbox. But something about John lingered: his presence, his patience, the way he seemed to see through people without saying a word. That quiet power drew you in before you even realized it, pulling you closer until your innocent hellos morphed into stolen glances—and eventually, something far less innocent.

Now, as you stood in his kitchen, sipping coffee while the leash you’d asked for sat coiled neatly on the counter, your heart raced in a way you hadn’t felt in years. John leaned against the doorframe, his gaze as steady as ever, though the hint of a smirk tugged at his lips.

"You keep staring at that like you're second-guessing yourself," he said, voice low and deliberate. "Changed your mind?"

You shook your head, fingers brushing the leather. "Not exactly. Just... getting used to the idea."

"Good," he replied, stepping closer.

His shadow felt larger than life as he closed the space between you, the width of his chest splayed out over a black shirt, the cotton holding him close.

"Because I don’t do halfway. If this is what you want, you’ll give me everything. Understand?”

Your eyes don't know where to go, your legs shift, thighs squeezing nervously with a rush of fear and excitement. You've had fantasies about something like this sure, but you never really thought…

“Eyes up here, puppy…” his voice isn't asking for attention, it's commanding, authority ripe in his deep voice.

Your obedience was what drew him in. The way you looked up when told, eyes big and full of nothing less than the want to please, even the highest of demands.

“If you want to back out, simply shake your head no.” His eyes watched yours, letting silence fill the kitchen without any hint of awkwardness.

He waits, letting you decide for yourself before continuing. Your head remains glued in place, worried even the slightest of flinches may give away any second doubts, something that John may see and deem a reason to stop right here and now. Your eyes search his dark ones, and you watch his lips part once more, a deep breath inhaled there.

“Or, you can put on your collar like a good girl and we can get started.”

Each word makes your heart thump in your ears, excitement rushing into every cell of your body. Your fingers twitch, and your eyes flashback over to that tempting leather that calls to you. Somehow, you know if you go through with this, you will never really be the same, never able to go back to how you were, placating frat boys at your college and having mediocre sex with boys who never even cared if you enjoyed a second of it. No, if you do this, you’ll crave it for the rest of your life.

Your fingers lift, grazing across the dark marble counter until they reach smooth, black leather. A collar just for you, perfect for your pretty little neck, custom made with the finest materials John could find for you. Your mouth parts, and a shaky, but excited breath leaves you as you bring the collar up to your neck.

“That’s a my girl…” John sets his coffee on the counter, walking behind you and brushing your hair to the side.

You feel his large, warm hands touch the nape of your neck, electricity passing between the two of you, unspoken tension building between your legs as he finishes the buckle back there. He tightens it just enough to be snug, but no more. He lets your hair drop once more, then lets his hands encapsulate your shoulders, their firm roughness bringing heat to your skin.

“Let’s begin.”

꩜ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ✩ ୨୧˚

John had guided you—no, commanded you—into the living room, his hand firm but not forceful at the base of your neck as you followed his lead. The leash connected to your collar trailed in his other hand, the soft clink of the chain with each step grounding you. Your skin prickles, hyper aware of every move he makes, a wolf circling its prey before going in for the kill.

“Good,” he murmured, the single word full of approval as he turned you to face him, your heart blooming at the idea of pleasing him. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, roamed over you with an intensity that made your knees weak. “You’re already learning.”

You tried to swallow the knot in your throat, but his presence made it impossible. John Wick wasn’t the kind of man to rush anything—he took his time, measured and deliberate, savoring every reaction you gave him.

“Sit,” he instructed, gesturing to the plush ottoman in the center of the room. His voice was calm, as if you’d done this a hundred times before, and the weight of it settled over you like a blanket.

When you hesitated, his lips curved into a faint smile—not playful, but knowing. “Second-guessing yourself again?”

You shook your head quickly, not wanting to displease or seem childish in front of him, sitting as instructed. The moment you obeyed, his long fingers hooked under your chin, his large hand tilting your face upward so you couldn’t look anywhere but at him. Those dark eyes pierce right into the very depths of your being as his soft lips move.

“Good girl,” he said, his voice dropping just enough to make the air between you feel electric. “Now, let’s see how far you’re willing to go.”

John continues circling you slowly, his footsteps deliberate, each one echoing softly in the quiet room. You felt his presence like a heavy shadow, his gaze burning into you even when he wasn’t directly in front of you.

“Do you know why I like this?” he asked, his voice calm, almost conversational.

The question makes you pause.

You hadn't considered it. You were used to men using you for your body, for their own pleasure, disregarding yours entirely. You figured it was any mans dream to have a sweet, supple young woman such as yourself, collared and begging to please their every whim. You briefly open your soft, glossy lips to reflect.

John stops behind you, his hand brushing lightly against the leash before pulling it taut—not enough to restrict, just enough to remind you it was there.

You shook your head, words failing you under the weight of his scrutiny.

“It’s not just the control,” he continued, his voice low, steady, and far too composed. “It’s the trust. The way you give yourself over to me without hesitation.”

His fingers trailed along your shoulder, sending a shiver down your spine.

“It means you believe I’ll take care of you... even when I push you.”

You inhaled sharply, the meaning in his words sinking in.

“But trust,” he said, moving to stand in front of you again, “isn’t just given. It’s earned. And right now, you’re going to show me exactly how much you trust me.”

He crouched slightly, bringing himself to eye level with you, his sleek suit pants tight against his thighs, his expression unreadable yet entirely commanding. His hand tilted your chin up again, his thumb brushing along the line of your jaw.

“Speak,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Do you trust me?”

You breathe, looking at the man before you, at his imposing presence and how easy it would be for him to take advantage of you at any moment. How you could just be another silly, young girl he's lured into his trap.

But your mouth says otherwise.

“Yes,” you whispered, the word barely audible, but it was enough to make his lips curl into that faint, knowing smile again.

“Good,” he said, his approval like a reward in itself. “Then you’ll listen. You’ll follow. You’ll let me guide you.”

He tugged gently on the leash, urging you to stand. The movement was unhurried, meticulous, as if he wanted you to feel every second of his control.

As you rose to your feet, his free hand pressed against the small of your back, steadying you. The simple act sent a jolt of awareness through your body, reminding you that while he held all the power in this moment, it wasn’t about domination—it was about connection. About trust.

“You’re doing well,” he said softly, his fingers brushing the leather of your collar before settling back on the leash. “But we’re just getting started.”

His hands gently leave you, and he steps away once more, eyes flickering across every inch of your body, taking you in.

“Strip.” he commands, his voice unyielding in authority.

You hesitate. You had never felt so subconscious of yourself as you did in this moment. It's not like you hadn't been seen naked before, but that was always hurried, dark dorm rooms and drunken kisses taking up most of your awareness. You had never been inspected the way John's dark eyes were watching you now.

His eyebrow flicks up for a moment, and you hesitate no longer, hands going up under your short black mini skirt to begin pulling down your stockings, the way you usually get undressed at home, without much care for the act.

John's hand gives the leash a tug as he speaks.

“Slower. Start at the top.”

You freeze, your mind overwhelmed by the scrutiny, but your need to please take over.

You straighten, eyes flicking from John to the floor and back again over and over as you slowly begin to unbutton your pale pink blouse. You think about it, taking a breath and releasing it slowly to calm yourself from all the attention, hands steadying and making sure to be intentional, calculated in their strokes.

You had never had to be sexy in front of someone like this, a worry forming in your brow and your excessive fluttering lashes as you wonder if you're accomplishing the job. John's eyes give nothing away, his gaze steady, as if testing just exactly how you will react to such stimuli.

You shrug your shoulders as your blouse begins to gently glide off, falling down to your elbows and exposing your pretty pink bra beneath, complete with lace and bows. You wonder if you seem too inexperienced, too girlish, a waif who knows nothing of this dominant world that John is so clearly a part of.

As your first article of clothing falls to the floor, John gives the slightest of approving nods, and nothing more, eyes hungry to see just what else you will do.

Your hands reach behind your back to unbutton your bra, but you see John give a shake of his head, and your hands fall anxiously onto your thighs.

Right, right. Slow. Sexy. Deliberate.

You instead do something bold. Turning around, one step after another, a click of a heel then the other. Your manicured hands come under the waistband of your cream mini skirt, slowly but surely shimming the soft fabric down. You feel the bare parts of your ass tingle against the chill of the room, matching lacy panties snug against your skin, white stockings sheer in the light.

You can't see his face, and for a moment you wonder if you've killed the mood entirely until you hear him release a breath.

“Good.”

This one's softer than the others.

Your skirt pools at your ankles, and you slowly step one foot out, the other kicking the fabric away.

You take a moment, your back still to him, and you let your eyes close as you compose the butterflies fluttering deep in your stomach.

Your hands reach once more behind you, your bra seemingly the next logical clothing item to go.

You didn't realize John had come so close behind you, a frightened gasp slipping from your pink, pouty lips as his hands circle around both your wrists.

“Let me savor you.” His voice drips with want, his nose and mouth pressed against the back of your head, taking your scent in.

As he breathes you in, you feel your body press into his, his warmth, his tight suit, his hard cock pressed against your ass.

A moan escapes you as his hands come to your waist, touching the exposed skin of your midriff, goosebumps left in the wake of his lingering fingertips.

“John…” You breath out, and you feel a hand take the leather of your leash once more, a firm tug to let you know your place.

“You may call me master, sir, whatever signature of authority you choose, but never John.” He whispers it into your ear, his breath tickling you and his serious tone sending shivers all the way down your spine.

You mull this over, your lips curling into a smile as you finally land on the right one.

“Daddy…” you breathe out, a bit nervous to use it out loud for the first time, but knowing you’ve been thinking it ever since you laid eyes on John.

John chuckles in your hair softly, and you can feel his lips smile against you.

“Daddy it is…” he softly agrees, then pauses before letting out a long breath.

His heat moves away from your back, his hand moving around your neck gently as he comes to face you from the front. His eyes search yours deeply for a moment before speaking.

John’s thumb traced a slow, deliberate circle against your collarbone, the silence stretching between you like a live wire. His gaze softened, just for a moment, a rare glimpse of something gentler beneath his steady exterior.

“You’re doing so well,” he murmured, his voice low and rich, a quiet reassurance that sent warmth blooming in your chest. “But we’re not done yet.”

The leash in his hand shifted slightly, the chain catching the light as he gave the slightest tug. The motion drew your attention—and your body—closer to him.

“Kneel,” he said, his tone calm but leaving no room for question.

You blinked up at him, the weight of the command settling over you. His hand moved to cradle your cheek, his touch firm yet tender.

“No hesitation,” he reminded you, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “Show me you’re ready for this.”

The steady authority in his voice made it impossible to resist, and you sank to your knees without a second thought, the floor cold even through your stockings. As soon as you did, John let out a satisfied hum, the corner of his mouth lifting in approval.

“Perfect,” he said, tilting your chin upward again, his fingers brushing your skin like a promise. “Now, keep your eyes on me.”

Your big eyes gaze up at him, lashes fluttering with the slightest hint of confusion before reminding yourself that you need to put your trust in him. Your heart races in your throat as his size-able hands reach down to his belt, the cold sound of metal clinking against itself and leather ruffling through fabric echoes through the room as he slowly slips his belt off. You gaze in wonder for what is to come next, your mouth opening as if to ask then closing again as you remind yourself of your position here.

John wraps the belt around one arm, leaving it there. With the other he holds your leash, his dark eyes bore into yours.

“Take my cock out.” He instructs, and your immediate reaction is to flush, a heat rising in your cheeks hotter than it ever has.

You feel like a fish gasping for air on dry land as the command washes over you. You blink a few times before the tug of your collar grounds you back into reality, and you look to where you can see the massive outline of John's cock showing against his black suit pants, tight and ready to be released.

You look back up into his eyes, and without another word, your hands begin fumbling with the button and zipper, your big doe eyes searching his for that much needed approval.

“Y-yes…” You whisper, barely audible to keep yourself going, and you feel John's hand tighten its grip on your leash.

“Yes, what?” He raises an arched dark brow, his expectations in his eyes.

“Yes, Daddy…” You fumble a few times more with the zipper as the words drip from your mouth, sweet as honey.

“That’s a good girl…”

As the zipper comes to it's final resting place at the base of John's cock, you press beneath the waistband of his underwear, almost struggling to get a cock of his size out from such a cramped space.

Heat radiates from there, your hand almost refusing to wrap all the way around his shaft as it pops out in front of your face, dangling there with all its girth and surprising length.

Oh god…

You wonder how you will anything that size anywhere inside of you, and your pussy aches as you think of it filling you all the way to the brim. You feel your mouth water as you look back up at John from his cock, your eyebrows pressed together in worry and lust.

“Alright, puppy,” John sighs out, a smirk curled on his lips at your reaction. “Let’s see just how much your mouth can take…”

You gulp back fear, and look back at his cock, two hands coming up to grip it from both sides. You breathe out slow, and you consider all the other cocks you've taken before, but none have even compared to the one before you.

You bring your mouth to his tip, pressing it against the flat of your tongue, taking a few long licks and savoring his taste. Your eyes meet his, hoping desperately you're being a good girl as you move to take more and more of him into your mouth. He fills every inch, and soon enough, you've barely got half of his cock in your mouth before he's reached the back of your throat. A slight sense of panic starts to wash over you as you consider the very real possibility that you won't be able to get all the way to the base of his cock, and you squirm as you try to readjust in a way that might.

“Take your time,” John whispers while letting a hand come to rest on the back of your head, his fingers gently petting your hair there. You can't help but moan into his cock, the feeling of being treated as such making you wetter by the minute.

You work his shaft with your hands, trying your best to get him down the back of your throat over and over as you begin to pick up speed. You notice that certain things you're doing right now illicit a moan from John, like swirling your tongue or twisting your hands just right, and you almost whimper into his cock as you realize what a good girl you're being.

“That’s right puppy, take as much as you can…” John's hand begins to apply pressure to the back of your head, slowly but surely forcing you deeper and deeper onto his cock until you're practically choking on it.

Your whimpers get cut off by his huge cock filling up your throat, and your toes curl beneath you as your knees begin to scream against the hardwood floors. You squeeze your eyes closed tight, trying your hardest to not let any discomfort come between you and being a good puppy.

Your nose begins to hit against his lower stomach, your mouth filled with spit that has no where to go, your pretty little throat tight around his cock. John’s hips buck into your mouth, controlled thrusts forcing himself deeper until you don't think you can take anymore, until the breath in your lungs swells up from being cut off so often, and your moans are silenced by John’s hand working your head into his cock and keeping it there for way too long. You squirm, your weight shifting in your thighs and your cunt dripping with want, your eyes beginning to water and looking up at him with the most pleading, desperate look.

John grips your hair one last time and pulls the entirety of his cock out of you, your breath suddenly rushing back in, a few coughs and a trail of spit from you to him as well.

John’s breath seems to be stolen for a moment as well, his hand rubbing your head with respect and admiration for your job well done.

“God…” He catches his breath, looking down at you with thinly veiled awe. “You’ve been such a brave girl for me, taking all that cock.”

You have no idea what you look like staring up at him from the floor, your make up beginning to slide down your cheeks from the tears that welled up, but you imagine you're beaming at him. Hearing him say that has you in a daze of euphoria, and you nod along, his hand coming from your head to cup your face softly.

“Does a good pet like you deserve a treat?” He smiles gently as you nod into his hand, your eyes closing from working so hard.

He leans down and gently lifts you from the floor, picking you up effortlessly, as if your weight meant nothing to him. You watch his strong arms tense under his shirt, and you practically swoon.

He takes you over to a nearby chair, laying you in it softly and beginning to kneel now himself, positioned between your legs. You look down at him, lids half closed and still out of it from the throat fucking you just took, watching as his hands take in your legs, rubbing all the way up to between your thighs and grabbing your stockings there.

Before you can question just what he's doing, John’s strong hands grip the white see through material there and tear, a startling rip making you jump for a moment and hold your breath. Before you can react to John ruining your pair of stockings, he slides your pretty pink panties to the side to expose your glistening cunt, and your legs tremble for a moment, considering closing in embarrassment before his hands firmly open you back up.

“Don’t you dare try to hide such a pretty pussy from me ever again.” He looks up at you with hunger and adoration. “Understood?”

“Yes, Daddy…” You nod eagerly, body tense with want and waiting for what comes next.

He watches you for a moment, making sure you really understand, before diving in.

You gasp as his mouth refuses to hesitate, refuses to let you acclimate to the warmth of this tongue and the softness of his lips. Instead, he devours you, sucking on your clit until it stands to attention, aching and wanting more. He laps at your juicy cunt with relish, savoring how good you taste on his tongue, his fast and short breaths tickling every part of you down there. Your hands clutch the arms of the leather chair, your legs up over his shoulders and your heels clacking behind his head as he bobs up and down on your pussy, licking every inch of you he can.

“Fuck,” You moan out as you feel yourself shaking at his every touch, your heart beating out of your chest.

With the hand that’s not keeping your panties out of the way, he lets two fingers soak up your wetness before slowly making their way inside of you. He refocuses his mouth on your clit, his fingers twisting and testing just how well you adjust. You cry out, trying not to curse so much but you can’t help yourself. It’s as if your body has been possessed with lust and ignited by John Wick’s tongue.

”Oh god, John, I think I’m going to cum!” You feel that familiar tightness in your lower stomach begin to build, your thighs tensing and attempting to close in on John’s head.

“You better not, puppy!” John pulls off of your clit, mouth soaked and shiny from your wetness, his hands moving to opening you nice and wide as well as giving your collar a firm tug to bring you off of the edge.

You practically yelp from the sudden difference, your chest heaving, your eyes unfocused and confused from being stolen away from such a beautiful wave of pleasure.

“Not until I get my thick cock inside that tight cunt of yours.” John warns, moving to line his throbbing cock up with your entrance.

You gulp back fear as he taps his cock against your cunt, the heaviness of it bouncing off of you as you shudder.

“Now, are you going to be a good puppy who waits to cum until Daddy tells her too?” His tone makes you remember your place in all of this, makes you remember that you have no say in when you derive your pleasure.

All you can do is nod, wide doe eyes looking from his to his cock with wanton want.

“I need to hear you say it.” He growls as he rubs himself against you, his length evident as he does so and beginning to make your stomach squirm in worry.

“Y-yes…” You breathe out, forgetting the rules as you focus on just how much cock you will soon be taking.

“Yes, what?” John growls as he lets the tip of his cock play with the idea of entering you.

“Yes,” You take a deep breath, bracing for what he’s about to do. “Daddy…”

John’s hips snap back, the forward, slamming the entirety of his cock into you in one swift blow. You have never felt such a rush of pleasure and pain at the same time, a guttural cry escaping your mouth and your hands leaving marks in his expensive leather chair.

“Oh, John…” You cry out as he thrusts into you, his want taking over, his need beginning to spiral out of control.

“What was that?” He mocks the use of his real name with harder thrusts, his breath coming quicker and heavier as the seconds pass.

“D-ad-dy-“ You moan out, the word cut off by each powerful thrust, the movement taking over the whole of your body.

“That’s it darling,” He closes his eyes, getting lost in just how tight you feel around his cock, just how warm it is inside you. “Touch yourself like a good girl, now.”

You do as he instructs, the feeling of your fingers circling your throbbing clit taking away some of the edge of the pain of his massive cock, and you bite into your lip to try to stop from cumming right then and there.

You have to be a good girl for him, you have to do what Daddy says and wait for him to tell you to cum.

You never thought you would see John lose such control, lose himself inside of you and let go of such rigid mannerisms. His long hair falls into his face, a slight gleam of sweat building up on his shoulders as he puts all he can into fucking the absolute shit out of you, using up every inch of you he can, pressing himself so deep inside you, you don’t think you’ll ever be the same again.

You play with your clit intermittently, having to stop now and then to keep yourself from falling over the edge and cumming right then and there. It’s pure torture, you can barely keep up with it all.

John’s muscles tighten, and you can see he’s getting closer. You hear soft moans coming from him, held back by only the slightest bit of control he has left. As his cock swells inside you, the raw feeling of him sliding in and out overwhelms your senses. You feel as if you’ve never been this full before, never been fucked as deep as you have now, and you know that nothing else will compare ever again. Your moans become incoherent, hands gripping for anything they can get a hold of, legs wrapped around John’s waist as he pulls himself in deeper, deeper, deeper…

”Please Daddy…” You whisper out, barely able to form the words. “Can I please cum?”

John groans, his teeth gritting, and nods.

“Yes, babygirl…” He huffs.

You take no time waiting, your fingers dashing around your clit in mad circles as he continues filling you up over and over again, hitting just the right spots inside you effortlessly. You feel yourself tense more than ever, your legs clamping down around his waist, your pussy tighter than ever around his thick cock. John lets the last bit of control he has go as your cum around his cock, your cunt fluttering and throbbing, leaving him no choice but to spill the biggest load of cum inside you you’ve ever had. He moans out, unable to keep himself from doing as such, his breaths shaky and his hips rocking out the last few bits of pleasure that they can. You ride his wave, bucking with him and taking everything you can like the good puppy you are. John practically collapses into you, the arms of the chair keeping his full weight from weighing down on you.

He leaves his cock inside you, letting it throb out any final bits of cum for the moment, his face close to yours, your breath intertwining with his. Both of your eyes are closed, but his mouth finds yours with ease, those soft lips of his tiredly taking soft kisses and whimpers from you.

Finally, when he has the strength, John Wick stands, slowly pulling out of you, his hot cum leaking out of your abused hole. He pushes his mess of long, dark locks out of his face, then looks down at you with half open eyes, before leaning down to scoop you up. He takes you to a larger couch, where you can both sprawl out more, collapsing into it with you in his arms.

He says nothing for a moment, the sounds of his breath and heartbeat beneath your cheek as you try to catch your own, completely out of it by now.

You feel his big hand begin petting your sweaty hair, stroking it with softest, most admiring touches. Your ears ring as you come down from it all, and eventually you make a sound that isn’t his heart or his breath.

“You did such a good job…” He breathes out in tired, half mumbles. ”I’m so proud of you…”

Your heart swells, and the exhilaration and emotion gets to you, tears welling up in your eyes. You dip your head into the crook of his chest and arm, hiding your face as to not embarrass yourself from crying after sex.

“Oh, come here, darling.” John purrs, pulling you closer, gently rubbing your back as you let it all out.

“You’re safe,” He whispers to you. “I got you, you’re safe right here, baby.”

He purrs sweet compliments and assures your safety over and over, gently kissing the top of your head. You let the emotions come and pass into pure bliss, and eventually, to the sound of his soft cooing words, you fall asleep in John Wick’s arms.

#john wick x reader #john wick fan fiction #john wick x f!reader #Keanuverse #dom!john wick #daddy!john wick #my writing #••• ◛ ʸᵒᵘ’ᵛᵉ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵐᵃⁱˡ!#thank you so much for sending this!#phew #good ol 5k in one night lol #I hope you like it lovely!#please feel free to send requests of this nature any time i really liked this

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sugarbbgrl · 5 months ago

Text

prof!price cont. read this before continuing.

warning(s): pet names, fingering, oral (f receiving), praise, age gap MDNI

wc: 1783

He places a small kiss to your temple before pulling his face away from yours, a sadistic smirk spread across his lips. Your eyes meet his once more, face now stained red. A small pit has formed in your stomach, either of embarrassment for arousal, maybe both. You open your mouth to speak but nothing but a shaky breath escapes past your lips.

“What? Too shy to speak, doll?” His smirk widens, a wicked look in his eyes. You do your best to swallow with a dry throat, you wet your lips as you take in everything that’s happened thus far.

"I could take you right here," His eyes stay glued to yours as he brings your hands up to his mouth, pressing a delicate kiss to each palm. "I could rip those jeans off of you, dip my fingers into you and feel how wet I can make you with just a look." Price hands leave yours to grasp at your waist, gripping not too harshly but firm enough to keep you still.

He dips his face down into your neck, peppering light kisses along the vein that runs along it, your eyes fluttering shut at the gentle feeling. He presses his pelvis into you, his hard cock flush against your clothed stomach. The action elicits a soft moan to slip, your hands eventually finding their way to his hair.

"Professor.." You gasp out, his kisses becoming more heated along the length of your neck, lightly sucking along the way. Every nerve in your body lights up, aware of your professor's body against yours.

“Please,” He mutters against your flush skin. “Call me John, sweetheart.”

John. John. John. Your heart yearns to let the name slip from your lips, but your mouth won’t let it.

You finally bring your hands up to his shoulders, skimming the broad surface underneath your touch. You wrap your arms around his neck and allow yourself to finally give into the man before you. John’s mouth makes its way up your jawline before capturing your mouth with his. He groans into your mouth, the taste of you overwhelming his senses.

He tastes of cigar smoke and bitter coffee. His lips are plush, soft caresses compared to the harshness of his calloused hands. You thread your fingers in his short locks at the nape of his neck, pressing your body further into him. The kiss is firm, rushed but not harsh. John doesn’t want to hurt his pretty little doll, he wants to show her a gentleness fit for a queen.

John’s hands move to your ass, gripping at your clothed flesh before moving to your thighs. He only breaks the kiss to lift you up and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. Your lips meet once again, almost like magnets. Your teeth capture his bottom lip, nibbling.

“Christ, I don’t know how much longer I can hold out, Doll.” John sighs as you bring your attack to his neck, sucking in a harsh breath through his nose and your tongue drags against the stubbly area.

“Take what’s yours, John.” Your voice vibrates against his throat, earning another groan from the older man holding you up. As if a switch flipped, he rushed to his desk and laid you on your back, not caring about what gets knocked over and broken in the process. His hands move to your chest, kneading your breasts through your shirt.

“No bra? You naughty little minx.” He grins and winks before taking each side of your blouse, ripping it off of you. Buttons fly and a sharp gasp leaves your mouth at the sudden action and the crisp A/C colliding with your bare nipples. You could feel how painfully hard he is through his slacks as he leans down to capture a nipple in his mouth. His beard tickles your chest as he sucks and swirls his tongue around the sensitive area, a whimper leaving your lips. You buck your hips into his, desperate for any sort of friction at this point.

“Ah ah, pretty girl. I want to savor you.” John pulls away from your nipple, a small ‘pop’ sounding around you. You whine at the loss of contact and you find yourself almost pawing at this face to come back. He chuckles and dips down to the valley between your tits, kissing a wet trail to the hem of your jeans. John unbuttoned the tight clothing, pulling them down by the belt loops. He leans up only for a moment to admire your light pink, lacy thongs adorning your bottom half.

“Seems like you’d planned for this to happen.” He comments, the fire in his eyes and chest burning like a jet engine. “As lovely as these look on you, they’ve got to go, sweetheart.” Rather than tearing the thin fabric to bits like he did with your blouse, he chooses to slide them down your legs.

He didn’t even give himself a chance to take both items before putting you in a crunch-like position and finally getting a taste of what he needed. He spread your lips and immediately began suckling at your swollen clit. You hand flew to his hair, gripping the soft, short curls into your fist and let out a strangled gasp. John nipped at the sensitive bud with his teeth before running his tongue up your dripping slit, stopping to delve into your contracting opening and tasting your nectar.

“John, oh my God!” You did your best to silence yourself as your cries echoed through the open and empty area of his classroom. He replaced his tongue with two fingers from his free hand, prodding your entrance with the thick digits. He pushed into you, cursing at how slick your walls are and slowly pulled them out before pushing them back in once more.

You don’t mind the burn your body was brandishing from the position he has you in, anything to have the professor you’d had a crush on for the majority of the semester at your mercy. You could feel his fingers push against your sweet spot while his gentle attack on your clit progressed. Every hair stood on end as goosebumps rose to your skin, indicating your inevitable release. Your hand gripped his hair harder, a groan escaping John’s lips and vibrated against you. You whine as you could feel the tightness pool in your lower belly, every action and sound he made pushing you closer to your climax.

“John, I’m close.” You breathe out, your eyes rolling back as he adds a third finger into you, the pleasurable stretch inching you closer. His tongue stopped its assault on your rosey bud, but his fingers never stopped. John stood from the position below you, his intense, deep blue eyes meeting you half-lidded ones.

“I want to watch you fall apart, my pretty little doll.” John’s gruff voice sent shivers down your spine and straight to your nerves. You begun to shake as John leaned down to press a delicate kiss to your forehead, quickening the pace of his fingers fucking you. You whine and whimper, eventually turning into louder moans. He leans away from your forehead, his eyes burning holes into yours.

Your eyes threaten to snap shut as you near your end, wanting to savor the immense pleasure you’re in. “Don’t you dare close your eyes. I want you to look at me as you come.” John’s voice once again rattled your insides, you begrudgingly listening to his dominant words. The intensity in his eyes never let up as you finally slip over the edge.

The profound orgasm ripped through you, every nerve buzzing from the sweet release. Tears prick the corners of your eyes and you hand reach for his shoulders, your nails digging into his flesh. You cry out, strings of unintelligible words slip from your lips and settle into John’s satisfied ears. Your whole body shakes, near convulsions as John slows his fingers until eventually pulling out of you completely.

“Made quite the mess of you, ay, sweet baby.” John grins once again, bringing his three soaked fingers to your mouth. He taps lightly on the reddened flesh, coaxing you to open up. You wrap your fingers around the thick, meaty digits, tasting your own saltiness covering them. You swirl your tongue around them before he pulls them out. John leans down and presses his lips to yours again. This kiss is sloppier this time, the both of you spent from the escapades.

John gently pulls your panties and jeans back up your legs, pressing small kisses to your heated skin along the way. You begin to finally regain your strength to lean up on your elbows, your face flush and vision a bit hazy.

“You are quite the sight for sore eyes, sweet girl.” John takes your hands in his and kisses the back of them, locking eyes with you again. You feel like your face can’t get anymore red, the comment making you shy once more even after everything that just played out. You eyes dropped down to the strain in his pants, his cock nearly throbbing from the lack of attention. You reach out, wanting to help him out after everything.

“Not today, love, you can return the favor another time.” He shakes his head and kisses your temple. You’d definitely have to return a huge favor for him. You find your strength to stand once more, holding your arm against your chest.

“Well, now this is the tricky part considering you tore my top to shreds.” You giggle, casting a gaze to the pathetic excuse for a blouse on the floor. John chuckles and walks over to his backpack, unzipping it and pulling out a sweatshirt of his. You thank him and toss the soft material over your head, his smell strong within each stitch.

“How’s about we go out to dinner one of these nights? I don’t want this to just be a quickie, I want to get to know you more.” John brings his hand up and pushes a strand of your hair behind your ear before caressing your soft cheek, the pad of his rough thumb running over your cheekbone. You smile up at him and nod, bringing your bottom lip between your teeth.

“I’d like that very much, John.” His eyes brighten more at your acceptance, bringing you in for a tight, affectionate hug. It’s been a crazy day, everything you’d ever dreamed of coming to fruition and then some. As you stand in the middle of your favorite professor’s room, enveloped in his burly frame, you think to yourself about all the ways you can repay him.

#call of duty #cod mw2 #john price #captain price #captain price smut #captain price x reader #john price x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #soap mactavish #ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick #cod x reader #cod smut

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cognacdelights · 9 months ago

Text

play wicked games, win wicked prizes [1]

gif by @spacedean.

my supernatural masterlist

summary: she craves male validation. he's the best high she's ever gotten. now they're both stuck in a sick and twisted game of foreplay that neither are willing to lose.

warnings: daddy issues — daddy issues galore. self-esteem issues. i am well aware that this is not a healthy relationship and is for entertainment purposes only. sexual content and themes. swearing. alcohol use. religious undertones. small age gap romance.

author's note: this will be in two parts as it's looking like it's going to be around 15k words in total. second part will be released soon. minors have been warned. do not interact.

It was hard to define her relationship with The Winchester Brothers.

There was Sam; and he was just Sam. He was a year older than her, and the epitome of the dorky, older brother that she never had. He played board games with her and helped her with her Calculus homework. They shared book recommendations and did research together. She forced him to play Princesses with her and hold tea parties against his will.

But most importantly he was a friend. She’d never had a friend before. Not until the day that rusted, old Impala pulled up outside Bobby’s shop and John Winchester had all but begged Bobby to take his boys in for just a couple of nights. She remembered it like it was just yesterday — hiding behind the over stacked bookshelf, listening as the two older men argued back and forth. Bobby eventually gave in, as Bobby always did, and waved John off with a stern look and a handful of colourful curse words.

Up until that day, it had always been just her. And Bobby. Bobby did the best that he could, but he wasn’t her father, and he never got a break from the job. There was always a phone going off here, then a bloodied and injured hunter turning up at the door there, or the local Sherrif Department snooping around here, there, and everywhere.

Sam was shy at first. Quiet and introverted. He always had his head stuck in a book. She quickly learned that wasn’t entirely the case, he just took a little while to warm up to you. But once that match was lit, there was no stopping the fully-fledged campfire that burned. They were friends. Best friends, even, at times. They understood each other and found solace in knowing that they weren’t alone anymore. They were two peas in a pod.

Her relationship with Dean was far more complex.

He was older; five years older than her to be precise.

Dean didn’t pay her any attention at first. In fact, he barely even acknowledged her presence. He was hyper focused on Sam; always making sure that he ate his breakfast and brushed his teeth before bed. He was more of a parental figure to Sam than Bobby was. Between looking after Sam and helping Bobby research cases, he didn’t seem to have much time for her at all.

It wasn’t until the day of her eighth birthday that she really seemed to turn a corner with Dean. She spent the day sat on the windowsill, peering longingly out and waiting for her father to arrive. She was dressed head to toe in her best outfit; a white, frilly dress with a matching silk ribbon, tied around her plaited ponytail. Her perfectly polished shoes swung back and forth in anticipation as her chestnut eyes lit up with a hopeful glint at every swoosh of the trees and roar of an engine. She was so damned sure that he would come. Why wouldn’t he? He was her father. It was her birthday.

Dean knew that he wasn’t coming. He’d been around the block enough times to know how this played out, and it was never a happy ending. When the sky began to darken, he eventually sat beside her on the old, flattened cushions — a slice of cherry pie, topped with a singular lit candle, in his hand. He caught the saddened look that dimmed her eyes as the realisation began to set in.

Her father didn’t come that day, or the next day, or even the day after that. There wasn’t even so much as a phone call. He pulled up six weeks later with a broken arm and unrecognisable letters etched into a torn and bloodied piece of paper. The only reason Andrew Lawson had returned was to seek out Bobby’s help in translating the words. There was no big, shiny make-up gift, no birthday card, no apology. Just yet another rejection; he shooed her away so the adults could talk.

Dean, once again, saw the flash of hurt that glazed over her eyes. It pained him, because he saw so much of himself in her. He too had forgotten birthdays, and excitedly watched out of windows for his father to never arrive and had been banished from rooms so that the adults could talk. He too had been shoved to the very bottom of the priority list, and the knew the weight of the anguish that came along with that. He knew what that did to a child’s self-esteem.

As they grew older, they became closer.

Dean was a big part of her life. He taught her how to play soccer, including all the dirty plays to win the ball without the referee noticing. He taught her how to fight, and how to shoot a gun. He taught her how to drive — albeit illegally in a stolen, clapped-out banger that they joy rode around the backroads of Souix Falls. He gave the Lawson girl her first cigarette when she was just fifteen, much to Bobby’s dismay. He smoked up her first joint with her on the hood of The Impala. He bought her a four-pack of beer to take to her first high school party and drove her home, so she was safe. He took her to her first bar. He took her on her first hunt. He patched up her wounds. He bailed her out of jail after her first arrest.

They fought like cat and dog, and as only they could. Over anything and everything; the TV remote, supernatural lore, the rules of Monopoly. Whether she was ready for The Hunt. They used to drive Bobby insane with their bickering — with all the door slamming, and flipping off, and the countless “Son of a Bitch” curses that would echo through the house.

As she’d reached her twenties, they’d become the epitome of comfortable with each other. Perhaps too comfortable at times. They’d shared beds together and slept beside each other in the backseat of The Impala. She’d wear his clothes — his flannel shirts as jackets to keep herself warm, or his old, logo-printed t-shirts to bed. She was open about her sex life, as he was too. She’d brush her teeth whilst he was in the shower, and vice versa. She’d flitter through their motel rooms in nothing but a skimpy towel. She’d sit in his lap if there wasn’t a seat, or sometimes even if there was, and lay her head on his shoulder when she needed some soft, human contact. He’d run his fingers through her hair. He’d tug her jeans up by the belt loops, over the strings of her thong, and pull the hem of her skirt down as she drifted past him.

Somewhere — somehow — along the line, they had found themselves locked in this sick and twisted game of foreplay. Teasing. Taunting. Toying. It never went further than some light touching, but their mouths were nasty, and their thoughts were downright vulgar. They got a perverse kick out of it, especially her. In all the rejection from her father, she had turned to seeking out male validation to fill the void and Dean Winchester was the ultimate high; the random, slick-jawed man at a bar would give her a five-minute high at most before the shame would set in, but Dean would have her orbital for days. One look, one touch, one quick-witted comment would have her floating amongst the constellations.

And then, he died. Well, so she had assumed. Sam had explained that he was gone. Just gone. Nobody knew where, or how. He was just: gone.

Her world turned upside down. There were no more Orion-level highs, just five-minute boosts to her ego before the guilt-ridden shame would drag her back down into a pit of self-loathing. She swept her way through The South — hitting bar after bar, bedding man after man, destroying monster after monster. She drank and she smoked until she didn’t even recognise herself in the mirror anymore.

Until her phone rang — a number that had once been disconnected flashing across the screen. Sam Winchester.

“Good morning, you’ve reached Maggie May’s Flower Shop. How may we help you today?” she put on her best Southern Belle accent. Even though she knew damned well who was on the other end of the phone, she still turned out her spiel. She would be damned to the darkest corners of Hell if she didn’t put him through the ringer after almost a year of no contact.

“Maggie—” a timid voice sounded throughout the speaker, “—it’s Sam.” He waited anxiously for her to respond but when she remained silent, he was forced to continue. “We need your help.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I know a Sam. Have you placed an order with us?” Maggie shot back with a sickly sweetness to her tone.

There was a heavy breath on the opposite end of the phone. “Come on, Mags. We’re working a case, and we could really use your help… It’s rough out here.”

“May I suggest our apology bouquets,” she continued, standing her ground, “they’re just divine. Will smooth over almost any of your wrongdoings.”

“Apology bouquets—” a deeper, gruffer voice chuckled, “—what did you do?”

Maggie instantly dropped the Southern Belle façade. “Dean?” she questioned, voice dripping with surprise.

An uncouth melody of noises permeated from the phone. A whack. A loud groan. A grumble of curse words. “You didn’t tell her, Dumbass?”. Followed by rustling and shuffling. Then mumbling. They were arguing. Maggie couldn’t comprehend exactly what they were arguing over — the line was too crackly, and she was too hungover to concentrate — but they were most certainly at each other’s throats.

“Hello?” she huffed impatiently.

“Maggie May,” Dean’s husky voice filled her ears, “how you been?”

“Uh—” she didn’t know how to answer that question. The honest answer was far too much more than she was willing to give away to anyone, but to say that she had been just peachy would have been a downright lie. Both Dean and Sam would have seen right through it. “I’ve been more Sober in my life—” she bit her lip, despite the two brothers being unable to see, “—and I don’t remember getting back to my motel room. But I’m alone, so I think that counts for something.”

“How quickly can you get to Stillwater, Oklahoma? We’re working a job and could use you right about now.”

She rolled herself over under the quilted comforter until she teetered on the very edge of the bed, her dark locks falling into her face. “I don’t think I should be driving right now,” she admitted, vision blurry as she peeled herself out of the warmth and stumbled her way towards the bathroom. She pulled on the string for the light and was immediately met with harsh, white lighting. Her head throbbed as she let out an involuntary groan.

“Jesus, girl, how much did you drink?” he asked — his face scrunching up at the lethargic pads of her feet and the uncomfortable groans that echoed through the speaker.

“Enough to drown a fish,” Maggie mumbled back.

She stared at herself in the mirror; her eyes were bloodshot, and a dark, mauve bruise painted her cheek an unsightly manner. She hissed quietly as she ever so gently reached her fingers up to touch it. Bad idea. It pulsed with pain. On further inspection, she had a busted lip — dried blood coating the thin cut.

“Atta girl, I suppose.”

“I can be in Oklahoma in a day—” she answered, running the tap, “—but you’re gonna have to give me a few hours before the single vision kicks back in.” She splashed the cool water over her face and instantly regretted it. “What’s the case?” she asked.

“Two deaths at an all-girls Catholic boarding school,” Sam cut in.

“We can’t get close enough to figure out what’s going on,” Dean added.

“I guess I’ll start practicing my Hail Marys then.” Swiping the towel over her freckled features, she left the phone balancing on the edge of the porcelain sink.

“No amount of Hail Marys are gonna save you.”

She spat a response, “bite me, Winchester.”

“I’m sure you’d love that, sweetheart—” Dean chuckled, “—but we’ve got a couple of civvy deaths to deal with first.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

It had been a long twelve hours on the road, and by the time Maggie’s old, beat-up pick-up truck pulled into the motel parking lot it was pushing midnight. The red, neon light of the sign cast down onto the black asphalt, dimly lighting up a path to the several motel room doors, and the few wall lamps flickered every couple of seconds. The walls were peeling their beige paint — as if shedding all their unspoken sins away — and rusted, metal chairs lined the tiled walkway. It couldn’t have looked any shadier if it had tried.

Maggie killed the engine, watching as the warm lamps of her headlights faded into the darkness. She stepped out, the thick soles of her boots hitting solid ground for the first time in what felt like forever. The midnight air ran bitter, but it was a welcomed reprieve from the humid temperatures of New Orleans. A chill crept along her spine like two gentle fingertips — however, not a patch on Dean’s. She tugged the sleeves of her over-sized flannel over her fingers and proceeded down the walkway, leather duffle bag in hand.

If she hadn’t had it drilled into her that you always pick the motel room closest to the exit — in case the need for a quick getaway ever arose — the sleek, black Chevrolet Impala parked outside would have given which room they were staying in away. Well, that and the gruff sounds of their arguing. The curtains were pushed closed, but there was a light on in the room; two tall silhouettes appeared in front of the window as what she could only assume was the TV flashed advertisement after advertisement in the background.

“I’m not a child anymore, Dean—” Sam’s husky tone echoed through the courtyard, “—you don’t get to make decisions for me. If I say I’m good, then I’m good.”

Maggie stuffed a hand into the pocket of her flannel and retrieved a credit card; it was and old one in an alias that she no longer went by — most likely maxed out and with a red flag marked against it on the system.

“No, you don’t get to make these kinds of decisions when you take a year out,” Dean shot back. His voice was deep and gravelly, a sure sign that he’d been drinking. “You’re out of practice.”

She slid the credit card between the mouldy, wooden door and its frame and pressed her weight against it.

“This isn’t about me being ‘out of practice’,” Sam deduced — his words turning more accusatory than defensive, “why don’t you tell me what this is really about? Get it all out in the damn open.”

It was a tough lock, which was surprising for such a run-down, old motel; they were usually a lot easier than this to crack open. Maggie persevered, forcing the credit card into the gap with a masterful wiggle.

Dean argued back, “you’re slow, and you’re weak, and you’re not thinking ten steps ahead. You’re a freaking liability right now and I don’t have the time to be playing search and rescue every time something goes down.”

She found the sweet spot, and with a glorious click, the motel room door opened. She stepped inside, a satisfied grin curling the corners of her full lips upwards. Who needed a key card?

Within a matter of milliseconds, Maggie was staring down the barrels of two handguns — locked and loaded with two ring-cladded fingers hovering over the triggers. Two mean glares stared her down. Sam and Dean. She merely cocked her head to the side as a lopsided smirk swept across her fair features. She teased, “don’t you boys know it’s rude to point your gun at a lady?”

“Yeah?” Dean shot back with a surly attitude, “let me know when you find one.” He stood down, easily slipping the gun back into the waistband of his scuffed-up jeans.

She pouted playfully in response.

“Maggie,” Sam addressed her. His voice was significantly softer, almost breath-like, as he raked over her with guilt-ridden eyes. He followed suit and stood down. He nonchalantly threw his loaded weapon onto the half-made bed before looking back at the petite brunette before him. Sam wasn’t sure what else to say; in fact, he wasn’t sure that there was anything he could say to make the tension dissipate. Maggie May was going to hold a grudge for as long as Maggie May pleased.

“Sam.” Her chestnut eyes scoured over him in return. They started at the very top — taking in his long, mahogany locks. They were longer, but more kempt. He was wearing a new flannel shirt; she’d never seen him in a flannel of that colour. He still wore the worn, leather watch that his dad had given him, but it was set ever so slightly fast. The jeans were new too. There were no scuffs or rips, but the boots were worn in and old. She returned her gaze upwards and met his eyes for a brief second.

Then, she looked away. Her eyes caught the elder Winchester brother and immediately illuminated with a spark of relief. She let go of the leather handles and let her duffle bag drop to the floor with a soft thud. She took a step towards him, and then another, before wrapping her arms around his neck. Maggie held him tight, nuzzling her nose into the crook of his neck as she stood on the tips of her toes.

“Dean.” His name was quiet and mumbled, almost as if she didn’t quite believe that he was there. She took a long breath, inhaling the familiar scent of his deep amber cologne. God, she had missed that smell.

A reticent laugh slipped from between his chapped lips. He placed a gentle kiss into her messy wisps and mumbled — the words quiet, as if they were ever only meant for her to hear, “Maggie Mayhem.” His burly arms wrapped around her slender figure and held her into his body just as tight. The palm of his hand laid flat against the bottom of her back, slipped beneath the hem of her leather jacket, and the pad of his thumb carefully stroked back and forth.

Realising the vulnerability that had clouded her voice, she steeled herself and mocked, “when are you finally going to stay dead? This is what— the third time now? Obituaries are expensive, you know.”

“I’ll write you a cheque for your losses,” another husky chuckle rumbled through his chest, unphased by her teasing.

Maggie felt Dean’s grip loosen around her and him begin to pull away. She wasn’t quite ready to let him go just yet, and instinctively held him tighter. She’d missed him — she’d missed that orbital high that came with his attention, his touch; and her damaged soul most definitely needed the recharge. It had been a long, emotional rollercoaster of a year without him. A few more seconds wouldn’t hurt. “Not yet,” she told him.

Dean simply relaxed — resting his chin atop her head and allowing her to melt into the warmth of their embrace. His hand dropped to her hip and leisurely hooked itself into the beltloop of her fitted jeans. He gave it a tender tug, covering the black string of her thong. He felt the tickling brushes of her eyelashes against his neck as she rolled her eyes in typical Maggie May fashion.

Sam merely watched on awkwardly. Him and Maggie were as close as two best friends could be, but they never quite reached the level that Maggie and Dean had; they were something different. What, he had no idea. It wasn’t his business, and neither of them were vulnerable enough to divulge anything like that to him. He’d never expected to receive the same greeting as Dean, but the frost-like look and the forced out of the weird uncomfortableness that hung over their friendship half-smiles made him feel a thousand miles away. He felt defeated, and tired.

Eventually, she retreated from his embrace feeling suitably secure. She left a small gap between their bodies and peered up at him, taking him in. His features were ever so slightly more weathered — framed by a dark but well-kept stubble. His lips were still full but dehydrated and his eyebrows untamed.

Dean frowned as he finally noticed the bruise that painted her cheek an unsightly shade of plum. “What happened to your face?” he questioned — his finger propping her chin upwards for him to gage a better look, and his thumb securing her in place.

Maggie rolled her eyes once more at the protective undertones, pulling out of his grip and turning her back to him. “It was just some stupid girl whose boyfriend couldn’t control his wandering eye, that’s all,” she shrugged her shoulders at the half-truth and retrieved her duffle bag from the floor, “she caught me off guard.”

“Hmm,” he hummed in response — not entirely believing her; Maggie May had a knack for finding trouble.

“So, uh—” Sam shoved a hand into the depths of his jean pockets, “—the case?”

Maggie stared at herself in the bathroom mirror, her chestnut eyes settling on her bare features. Her eyes were tired and heavy after the long drive to Oklahoma, and surrounded by two cushions of dark circles. Her skin was dull and fair, more than likely from the lack of natural sunlight that she had seen in the last God-knows-how-many months of crawling through bars and spending her days sleeping off hangovers in shady motel rooms. The mauve bruise that tarnished her cheek looked angry and painful — deepening as the blood settled and the tissue began to repair. Her busted lip was sore, aggravated by every slight movement she made. She looked like a ghost — physically and metaphorically; her vessel was very much present but there was no light behind her eyes, and no spark in her soul.

She continued to stare into her own reflection, meeting her own gaze in an intense battle under the harsh bathroom light; she was a mess, in every sense of the word. If she were to stand before her younger self, she wouldn’t have the slightest indication of who she was. Hell, she wouldn’t even recognise herself if she bumped into her from a year ago. All the years of being on the road, all the losses that she had felt, and all the rejection that she had faced had finally caught up to her — and it wasn’t a pretty sight, to say the least.

There came the ever-familiar waves of no self-worth again, hitting the solitude rocks of her self-esteem at full force.

She pulled a tube of antiseptic cream from the makeshift first aid kit. Squeezing a small dot onto her finger, she then dabbed it against the crusty cut on her lip, careful and tender with her touches. A quiet hiss involuntarily slipped between her lips as her dark eyebrows furrowed into a frown. The ointment burned as it seeped deeper into the cut.

Maggie turned her head and peered out of the open bathroom door. Dean was sat in the leather armchair — jean-clad legs manspread, a police report in one hand and a freshly-cracked bottle of beer in the other. There was a pensive aura that surrounded him. His fingers gripped the beer bottle with a tightened grasp, and his jaw had locked, almost as if it was holding back a barrage of thoughts. He stared intently at the words printed on the page, yet never turned to the next. There was something on his mind.

She saw it as an in. A reason. An excuse.

Letting the half-used tube of ointment fall into the sink, Maggie wandered back into the bedroom space. She was quiet and soft in her movements — almost timid — until she reached Dean. His eyes remained fixed on the police report, and a pang of upset coursed through her; Maggie was used to commanding his attention — his heavy-lidded eyes falling naturally on her and feeling the heat of his stare.

Her bare knees fell either side of his body as she straddled his lap, the hem of the over-sized t-shirt exposing the glorious lengths of her thighs. With one swift motion, she’d stolen the freshly cracked bottle of beer from his grasp. Her lips twitched upwards into a smug, but angelic, smile as Dean raised his eyebrows at her questioningly. The bottle ghosted her full lips — the very tip of her tongue tracing the rim in an enticing circle as her chestnut eyes locked with his, before taking a long swing.

Dean watched attentively as Maggie had her fun, his eyes glued to her. She was so effortlessly seductive; everything about her — from the way her delectable thighs spread open in his lap, to the way her tongue ever so slowly traced around the bottle rim, and the way the thin fabric settled over her taut nipples and the piercing bars — exuded lust. Piercings? That was new.

His tongue dragged along his bottom lip in an effort to quench the thirst that had been awakened in him. Although, it barely scratched the surface. It had been a hell of a long time since his engines had been roaring, nevertheless had been taken for a test drive; he’d spent the last year wandering purgatory in survival mode, where he rarely ever found a second to breathe. Maggie May was well and truly testing his patience in that moment. And boy, did she know it…

He reached for the bottle, but it was promptly moved from his grasp.

Maggie stretched upwards, holding the half-empty bottle above her head, and peered down at him with a taunting glint in her eye. He reached once more — shifting himself into the most compromising position. He reached upwards once more, unintentionally pushing his crotch further against Maggie. Big mistake. She rolled her hips in a flirtatious retaliation, arching her back and pressing her clothed pussy against his lap.

It took every ounce of strength not to give in to her, but he did it. Dean remained steeled — the deep, husky groans that begged to be released begrudgingly shoved down into the very pit of his stomach, and his lips pressed into a thin line. He was semi-hard beneath her, pressing against the zipper of his jeans, as he placed his firm hand on her thigh. It was a gentle but commanding hold as his ring-cladded fingers slipped beneath the over-sized t-shirt and gripped the skin, his thumb rubbing tender back and forth patterns against the inside of her thigh.

“Maggie May,” he warned.

“Yes?” she cocked her head to the side innocently.

“Don’t start something we can’t finish.”

“Aw, cute—” she taunted with another leisurely roll of her hips, “—you don’t think you can make me cum.”

A fervent groan slipped from between his lips as his dick grew harder against the constraints of his jeans. His jaw tightened as his fingernails pressed crescent shapes into her skin, forcing her to be still. Choosing to ignore her teasing, he sent her a deathly glare — one that dared her to try that move again; it appeared to have worked as she relaxed her posture, sitting herself innocently on his erection and keeping still.

Placing the police report down on the wooden table, he gestured with his finger for her to return his beer.

Reluctantly, she handed it back, but not before she took another large gulp.

Dean took a swig of the now half-empty beer and allowed his fingertips to wander. His hand moved further up her thigh, his fingers catching and tangling themselves in the string of her thong. His thumb dragged ever so tenderly over the crease in her hips where legs bent, tracing back and forth motions. It was so instinctual, as though his hand gravitated towards there — like the soft dips in her skin were made for the palms of his hands.

Maggie stared down at him with sensual, umber eyes. Heavy-lidded and burning with a heat fuelled by the dopamine that coursed through her veins. This was it. This was Maggie in her element; enriched by the power of holding every last drop of his attention, alive and awakened by the electricity of his touch, and riding a high so orbital that her soul was one with the solar flares of the sun. She felt like herself again — full of confidence, and full of life.

“You finally got ‘em pierced then?” Dean mused with a questioning raise of his eyebrows and his gaze trained on her taut nipples. They pressed against the thin fabric of her over-sized t-shirt, practically on show for the whole world to see.

For a brief second, her eyes dropped to her breasts — following his. Then, she responded with an audacious smirk. “I sure did,” a low laugh slipped from between her lips, “wanna see?”

Dean tilted his head backwards as he repositioned himself in the chair. His hips shifted forwards and his shoulders slouched into the cushioned back of his chair. He tipped the bottle downwards and emptied it’s remaining contents in a slow and tactical swig. Of course he wanted to see. He was steeling himself; it truly had been a long time since he’d had any sexual gratification and the immediate flashes of her naked body above him — pierced tits bouncing playfully as she rode him under the warm, orange glows of the motel sconces — had sent him into an oblivion. Maggie May was becoming harder and harder to resist.

He somehow managed to remain calm, dowsing the fire in the pit of his stomach with his beer and plastering an unfaltering poker face across his features. That was until he felt his dick harden and strain against his zipper, giving him away.

Maggie felt it too and responded with another leisurely roll of her hips. A devilish glint occupied her eyes as her smirk grew wider. Damn, that girl would be the death of him one way or another.

“Those daddy issues got you well and good, haven’t they?” Dean retorted. He placed the empty beer bottle on the table.

“Uh huh—” she agreed with a sardonic grit to her words, “—my daddy didn’t love me enough so now I need men twice my age to tell me how good my tits look to get me through the day.” She leant forwards, back arched, and pouted her full lips. “Either tell me how good my tits look or take it up with Andrew. If you can find him.”

Hooking his finger beneath the hem of her shirt, his beer-soaked breath fanned against her face. “You’re every therapist’s wet dream.”

“Glass houses, Winchester.” She paused for a second as the pad of her finger traced his jawline. The coarse hairs of his stubble sent a shiver running down her spine. “I’ll book a couples session—” she dropped her hand, “—and we can both hash out our Daddy demons. Maybe then we’ll finally stop playing this silly, little game with each other and fuck for real.”

She wasn’t far wrong. In fact, she’d hit the nail flat on its head. Whilst Maggie’s father was an absentee who had rejected her in every possible way that he could find, Dean’s father had placed unrealistic expectations and responsibilities on him from a young age. Both carried the burdens of their father’s parenting styles, or lack thereof; both would very much benefit from a professional listening ear and some advice on how to form healthy adult relationships. But, alas, they were here.

“Now, hold up—” Dean’s tone was thick and gravelly as he began lifting the hem of her shirt with his finger, “—let’s not fix what ain’t broke. Show me them pretty, pierced titties.”

Maggie pulled her t-shirt up, holding it in place and revealing her bare breasts. Her nipples were a delicious rose colour and tightened into little buds as the silver bars pierced between them.

He dragged his tongue along the length of his bottom lip again, admiring the sight before him. And what a sight she was. His finger ran slowly underneath the waistband of her baby pink thong. Yes, baby pink thong with a sweet, satin bow in the very middle of the waistband. That had surprised him; Dean had never pinned her down as being a pink and frilly bows type of woman. He’d always thought of her as red and black lace. Nevertheless, the way the fabric fit her body so perfectly still made his skin burn and his mouth run dry.

With a gentle tug, he pulled the string up over her hipbone and let it sit. He then traced her skin upwards — lackadaisical with his movements. The calloused pad of his finger brushed over a scar that tainted her stomach. An old, healed over stab wound. His touch was tender as he sketched the outline of her silhouette, until eventually landing on her breasts. He cupped her boob with his warm palm and allowed his thumb to ghost over her poised nipple.

She let out a jagged breath at the contact.

Dean found his rhythm, circling his thumb over her sensitive bud and rolling it between his fingers.

“Ohhhh.” Maggie let out a breathy moan as she rolled her head backwards. It was an involuntary reaction that she couldn’t stop even when channelling every ounce of might that she had; it was carnal and deep-rooted within her. As was rocking her hips back and forth in a slow and salacious cadence. She was acting on pure instinct and throwing absolute caution to the wind — acutely aware that neither had dared to venture this far with one another.

Dean sat forwards, his now moist lips almost instantly finding her other nipple. His tongue traced a slow circuit around her sensitive bud before his teeth nibbled ever so gently. He sucked, and licked, and nipped to his heart’s content — spurred on by the lustful whines and breathy moans that spilled, one after the other, from between her lips.

She reached her hands between them, her voluptuous hips coming to a gradual stop, and fiddled with the button of his jeans. It was hard to undo them one-handed — the angle was awkward and the old, metal button was stiff — but she managed. Her dainty fingers slipped inside, palming his erection through his boxers until his rugged breaths didn’t send shivers jolting down her spine. She wanted more; she wanted to hear the strangled, husky moans that crawled from the very depths of his throat as they made skin on skin contact.

Maggie pulled his hardened dick from the constraints of his boxers and curled her fingers around his length. She pumped him up and down, revelling in his grunts and groans. They vibrated against her delicate skin and sent shockwaves of electricity through her body — right down to the very tips of her fingers and toes. This was it. This was Maggie at the very peak of her orbital high; she was sat atop the world, spinning aimlessly with the constellations and soaking in the vibrant solar flares of the sun. She was as high as she had ever been, and she wasn’t sure she was ever going to come down from this point. She was lost to the cosmos.

She peeled back the fabric of her damp thong and positioned herself above him. The tip of his dick leaked with pre-cum as it ghosted over her folds — coating himself in her slick.

Then, as he found her entrance, the unmistakable roar of his 1967 Chevy Impala engine sounded throughout the motel room. Maggie whipped her head towards the window — the blaring headlights blinding her, even through the old, dust-covered curtains. It was Sam. With almighty impeccable timing.

She swiftly turned back to face Dean, who had begrudgingly detached himself from her breasts, and looked down at him. A pained expression contorted her blush-tinged features as she let her panties go and stood from the chair. She took a step backwards, then another, and another, until she found the cheap quilt of the bed. She sat down and clamped her thighs together — eyes dazed and her core utterly aching for the man before her.

Dean stood from the chair and tucked himself back into his boxers. His jeans remained unbuttoned and loose around his hips. He dragged a hand through his dishevelled hair as his chest heaved up and down. “I’m gonna…” he nodded towards the bathroom as his words fizzled out, his sentence incomplete.

All Maggie could do was nod in understanding and watch as he disappeared into the bathroom, the door closing swiftly behind him. Her breaths remained heavy as she struggled to calm herself down — her cheeks still stained vermillion and her temperature almost feverous. The sound of the water running flooded the motel room.

Shit. There came that rapid descent back down to Earth.

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester fic #dean winchester smut #dean x y/n #dean x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #jensen ackles

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feinv · 8 months ago

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hi I wrote u the welcome ask but now it’s time for business 😈 I desperately need a dbf!wick scrap from u xo

accidentally made myself horny with this. enjoy 💌

dbf!john wick. legal age gap. smutty ending.

dad’s best friend john wick who is your father’s business partner in whatever they do. you were never interested in your father’s line of work — numbers, hour-long meetings full of random middle aged men using dramatic and unnecessary termins to prove a point, so naturally, you didn’t give two shits about his colleagues either. not until you met him.

you were dropping your father some lunch, eager to leave the building before men came barging into the meeting room. (un)fortunately, one of them arrived sooner that day, and that was when you saw the tall and handsome man in a suit who just radiated dark energy. he looked sinful.

your father didn’t even introduce you to one another, knowing your disinterest in this, but you caught john’s name from your dad’s lips when you were shutting the door behind. the poor man was taken aback by the sudden shift in your behavior when you asked him to partake in the next meeting, hoping and needing so desperately to see john again.

during the said meeting your father proudly introduced you to everyone, and your anxiety faded away when there weren't several pairs of eyes prying on you further into the meeting. except for one pair, which belonged to john wick.

you could practically feel his eyes shooting daggers of lust and curiosity towards you, even without having to move your gaze into his direction.

after the meeting john very generously suggested introducing you to the basics, which started the controversy of it all.

your meetings were titled as “trainings” by john which really was an excuse to get to know each other, and your father was too blindfolded by the excitement of his daughter taking after him to see the reality of the relationship you and john shared.

“you know i’m old enough to be your father, sweetheart,” he said one day, acting as if he was looking out for you and didn’t like the idea of how inexperienced you were in anything compared to him. but you didn’t miss how his eyes were viciously scanning your body from head to toe. “lucky for us you are not,” you would shamelessly flirt back.

at some point you got so confident in yourself that you started challenging and teasing john during meetings and calling him out, using your sarcastic/passive aggressive tone to disagree with him, and even interrupt mid sentence. he knew you were trying to rile him up, and he wouldn’t give you the satisfaction in front of others.

during the break, however, you would find yourself trapped under him on a table, with his one hand pinning your both above your head while he mercilessly pounded into you, making you a quivering mess of whimpers and whines.

“all quiet now, huh sweetheart?” he would question into your fucked out state, receiving incoherent mumbling as an answer. “don’t get shy on me now. let me hear you,” he would whisper, purposely hitting your cervix with his tip over and over to earn a loud moan from you.

“keep making those pretty noises, darling, and everyone will find out just how much you agree with everything i say.”

safe to say everyone in the room noticed how unusually silent you were when the meeting resumed, your cheeks flushed as you kept avoiding looking in the eyes of someone in particular, while he was confidently manspreaded on the chair, small smirk evident on his lips.

©️feinv, 2024.

#need something like this to happen to me #unfortunately none of my dad’s friends look like john wick #john wick #dbf!john wick #john wick fanfic #john wick smut #john wick x you #john wick x reader #john wick fanfiction #john wick x fem reader #john wick 2 #john wick 3 #john wick drabbles #john wick x fem!reader #john wick imagine #john wick chapter 4 #feinv—jw

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ruskaroma · 2 years ago

Text

ordinary, corrupt human love. | chapter 1: written in blood.

Warnings: this series will include highly disturbing/dark topics such as stalking, unhealthy obsession, graphic descriptions of violence, blood and gore, manipulation, gaslighting, large age gap, emotional/psychological abuse, dom/sub undertones, bad BDSM etiquette, etc.

this is a dark fic, written in john's pov and a glimpse of how his mind works. if you still continue to read and get triggered, that is not my responsibility.

Summary: John finds himself a new obsession.

Author's note: this is my first ever fanfic for this fandom and i am beyond excited to share this with you guys! though i must say before you begin, english is not my first language and there might be a few errors in my writing here and there, so i apologize in advance.

but either way, i still hope you enjoy this piece, and i can assure you that once i finish writing this series there will be more to come! i really enjoy writing john wick be a merciless bastard who kills everything that breathes, and i hope you enjoy it too as much as i did.

please, please, PLEASE tell me what you think in the comment and reblogs and likes would be so appreciated. it motivates me to write even more :)

(also this is not edited so all mistakes are on me and i apologize)

Word count: 8.1k

also read on ao3.

It’s one of those days again.

The sound of his watch ticking is the only thing keeping his car from being too quiet. His eyes watch every single movement of his target, never leaving his sight. It won’t be too long for John to finally strike, he just doesn’t want too many civilians seeing the horror that’s about to happen right before their very eyes.

His mind is thinking of many things he could do with this target in particular. A lowlife thug that got himself involved with a very dangerous Italian mob, but then again that’s not the reason why John’s murderous intent is at its peak at the moment.

He’s angry at something, he just doesn’t know what. And this target of his isn’t helping his situation at all. Reading his criminal record made John think this could be a chance to cure his boredom. This man is not only a sex trafficker, but also a pedophile who has a history of targeting teenagers to rape and sell to the black market that’s as fucked up as him.

He doesn’t normally take his time thinking of ways to kill his targets. He points, shoots, leaves. This one in particular though, got him facing a side of him that John himself doesn’t want to face.

He would start by breaking every single one of the man’s fingers. And if that doesn’t do any justice, he’ll cut them off.

One by one, let the man savor the feeling, let John relish the nightmare.

He could slit the man’s throat, watch as life drains away from his body, watch as the man clings to his legs for mercy. John could even pull out the man’s dick, step on it, fucking cut it off and shove it so far down his own throat that he couldn’t scream for help if he tried.

It’s John’s version of Colombian Necktie. A classic, only ever tried it out four times, hopefully this would be the fifth.

John is never the one to take pleasure in killing people, but these past few months have proved him otherwise.

Maybe it’s because of Helen’s death, and the way he was basically forced to sculpt the demons he buried back into himself. His only remaining bit of humanity was taken from him, and he’s coping in the most unhealthy way possible. Perhaps Winston was right about dipping his pinky a little too much into the pond, but it was inevitable.

John has gone back to his old ways. Taking contracts here and there to distract himself from the void in his heart. He remembers how burying a knife into someone’s throat for the first time in many years has ignited something in him he didn’t even know he had.

That’s why he’s here, exiting his car in a swift move, following his target as quietly as possible into a narrow alleyway that stinks of garbage in piss. This would be a nice place to kill a guy like him – right where he belongs.

John’s movements are so discreet the man couldn’t even sense him until John wrapped his right arm around his neck and his other hand went to cover the man’s mouth. He walks them both to the back of a building as the man struggles, where John’s sure no more people are present, and he kicks him on the jaw to stop the man from making any more noises.

John can make this quick. Pull out his gun and blow his brains out. But there’s that sinister glint in his mind that’s telling him to do something unimaginable – grotesque even – a death a man like him deserves.

The man tries to swing his arm at John but misses pathetically. The poor guy’s already shaking and John hasn’t even begun.

John doesn’t respond to the pitiful attempts of questioning who he is and who sent him here, he simply pulls his knife from his pocket and wastes no time slashing it against the man’s throat, the blood spraying all over his face. The man tries to stop it by shakily covering the deep cut with his hand, but it’s useless.

He’s gargling, choking on his own blood, and John’s watching it all unravel with a familiar glint in his eyes.

John is contemplating if he should follow the plan he made in his head or just leave it like this. Somehow, the sight looks rather incomplete to him. He knows what he’s done is not enough, but that could be just the rage talking. The man’s already dead, and surely cutting off his dick and shoving it so far down his throat it comes out of the wound would leave an ugly reputation on his name.

Would that be a good thing? John is already feared enough, would it be a good thing to make people fear him even more? But then again, this won’t be the first time he’s done it. Doing it again one more time wouldn’t make any difference.

He glances down at the dead body on his feet before he kneels down to do the unforgivable.

Slicing off a man’s cock is easy. Too easy. John’s knife is perfectly sharpened and stoned, he merely uses any strength to cut it off. The sight is so fucking ugly, too much blood, but nothing he can’t handle.

Once that’s done, John uses his other hand to force the dead man’s jaw open, immediately greeted by the foul stench of blood as he shoves the unpleasant dick into the man’s open mouth. The genitalia is definitely not long enough to reach the throat, but that won’t be any problem for John.

He grits his teeth as he forces his hand in there, not bothering to care even if the jaw breaks and the hole becomes even wider, his goal is the only thing in his mind.

The blood continues to drip and he has never been so grateful for wearing an all black uniform for this occasion. Soon enough, after a few minutes of such a brutal wrongdoing, John sees the tip of the cock reaching the deep wound on the man’s throat as it continues to peak its way out.

A sick, small smile spreads across John’s face. The smile is barely there, but he’s fucking enjoying this more than he’d like to admit. He can only imagine how the news would spread across the assassin underworld like a wildfire.

The Boogeyman’s back in business and he’s scarier than ever.

Perhaps this might be the way to lay his point across. This is a way to show them that it was not a good idea pissing him off, killing what’s his, and bringing him back in business. They’d regret it, but it would be already too late for that.

John uses his other hand to pull the cock right out of the man’s throat but not completely. Half of it is hanging out and John thinks he could even consider this as a masterpiece. There’d be flies and maggots that would make the scenery better, but the cleaning service is there for a reason. He can’t just not use it.

John stands up from his position, pocketing his knife back into his pocket before retrieving his phone with the other. He dials a number, waits for them to pick up, all while admiring his work on the ground.

His previous contracts these past few months all ended in such an unimaginable, ugly way. He figured that by showing them that he’s capable of such brutality, it would increase the numbers of people calling him in for more jobs, because this is exactly what they wanted. They wanted Baba Yaga, the ruthless killer of the underworld who stops at nothing to finish his job, and he’s simply giving it to them.

Someone picks up the call and he straightens his posture, checking the time on his watch before speaking.

“This is Wick. John Wick, yes. I would like to make a dinner reservation for one.”

The news spread faster than anticipated.

The notorious man John Wick, the hot topic of the criminal underworld at the moment, even gained the attention of The High Table, and it all happened in the span of one day. That’s how quick the news spread amongst his fellow assassins, though that’s exactly what he was going for.

John expected it so he isn’t surprised when he receives a call from Charon saying Winston wants to meet him.

He inserts a coin in the door and the small window opened briefly. The guy on the other side immediately recognized him, not wasting a single moment to open the door and let the man of the hour in. All eyes are on him the moment he steps into the club, but no one dared to murmur anything to anybody – not when the man himself is here.

They know better.

John spots Winston at his usual spot drinking his usual order, signaling John to sit beside him where a glass of bourbon is already present.

“Jonathan,” Winston greets, raising his glass. “We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?”

“I figured,” John replies, though not interested. He slides himself to the booth and takes a sip of his own drink. “I don’t understand why though.”

“Are we really playing this game, Jonathan?” The manager raises a brow.

“I was just doing my job.”

“In a way you don’t normally do,” Winston then adds. “Or should I say, in a way you don’t even do.”

John gives him a look, but he could tell Winston doesn’t know how to interpret it. His face remains emotionless, not letting the mask slip and grant Winston the privilege to take a peak. John will continue to play this game until he’s satisfied, until he feels something again. Surely he’ll find what he’s looking for while doing the only thing he’s ever good at – slaughtering.

“Let’s just say I was trying out a new technique,” John says, voice deep and almost sinister. Winston’s scared, though he doesn’t show it, John knows.

“I have known you ever since you started, Jonathan. Not once did it cross my mind you would do something so.. horrifying as this. You discarded the body like he was some sort of pig, so believe me when I say I couldn’t believe it at first.”

John has no idea why Winston’s whining about him being horrifying, when that’s all they’ve been saying about him ever since he joined. He didn’t gain this reputation for no reason, now he’s just simply showing them what more he’s capable of.

“You should’ve seen his record.” His tone is menacing, swirling the drink in his hand as he stares deeply at Winston’s eyes. “He’s worse than a pig.”

The drop of the curse word takes Winston by surprise. “So is that what it is, then? You killed him that way because you think he deserved it?”

“Not really,” John simply sighs, leaning back on the leather seat as he takes another sip of his bourbon. He really isn’t planning on staying longer, but Winston seems to be taking his sweet time asking him a bunch of stupid questions. “I couldn’t care less of what he’s done. I was simply… bored. Saying that I did that because I think he deserved it gives people a reason to think that what I did was justifiable.”

The look on Winston’s face says enough. He’s afraid of John, afraid of what he has become. Hearing John say he did such an unforgiving thing just because he was bored is beyond frightening. No man has ever inflicted so much fear on him before – at least not until John.

“I think we’re done for tonight,” Winston finally says, not wanting to hear any more disturbing thoughts of John, but he remains polite and calm for the sake of their friendship. “You have a good night, Jonathan.”

John gives him a nod, standing up from his seat and downing his drink in one go. “Goodnight, Winston.”

He exits the club with an eerie aura following behind him, not caring about the way people are looking at him like he’s got Death himself walking beside him.

It makes him wonder that maybe death doesn’t follow him after all.

Maybe it is him.

Someone offered him five million to fuck up a man who allegedly stole a fuck ton of kilograms of cocaine from their warehouse, and really, who is John to decline the offer?

Hunting the man is easy. It didn’t even take a day to locate where the man lives, and John’s already breaking into his apartment to shoot the guy and leave. There’s no point in rummaging the place for the cocaine, all of it is already up the man’s system by the looks of it, and killing him is John’s job.

John wants to finish this one fast, he’s got other business to attend to. As he backs up the frightened, pathetic excuse for a man against the wall, he takes his gun out of his holster and aims directly at the head, right between the eyes, and he watches in great pleasure as the residue of his brains splatter against the walls and the floor.

This man didn’t even put up a fight. John thinks this is a waste of time.

He exits the apartment with disappointment heavy on his shoulders, slamming the door shut. Although the gun he used has a silencer, the rooms are too close to each other. He’s sure there might be other people who heard the shot of his firearm.

The apartment building is located at the filthy side of New York, where most known drug dealers and junkies do their nasty deals. It’s no surprise that as soon as John steps a foot out of the worn out building, all eyes are on him, but mainly on the clothes he’s wearing. They’re planning on mugging him out, and John would like to see them try.

Just as he’s about to walk to his car, his phone rings abruptly in his chest pocket. He retrieves it in one swift motion, not noticing that a gold coin fell out as he does so, and he continues walking to not waste any more time.

“Sir! Excuse me, sir, you dropped something!” John hears from behind. He doesn’t bother looking.

The call isn’t nearly as important as the business he needs to attend to, so he hangs up the call and pushes his phone back into his pocket. As soon as he does that, he feels a small hand touching his shoulder.

John’s hand immediately flies to wrap his large hand around the person’s wrist, turning around to see a young woman with a bewildered expression on her pretty face, little fingers holding his golden coin that looks far too big on her hand.

She looks scared, terrified, and oh how fucking awful that makes John feel. Like he’s been punched right in the fucking gut. He’s enthralled.

“I wasn’t–you dropped it and I’m just giving it to you, I promise!”

She’s looking at John with big, doe eyes. She also looks freshly showered, wrapped in a black puffy jacket that makes her even smaller than she already is. John lets his eyes linger on her lips, so plump and glossy. Her voice sounds sweet, soft, something John isn’t used to hearing.

John can’t help but to stare.

“Are you–are you gonna let me go, mister?”

The way she stutters triggers a hot feeling in John’s guts, and can’t help but to rub his thumb on the girl’s dainty wrist before slowly letting her go.

So delicate, he could snap them in half.

“Sorry,” John apologizes, taking the coin from her hold, and his fingers itch at the way her skin feels so soft against his rough hands. “Force of habit.”

“It’s okay,” she smiles a little, and there goes that hot curl in John’s stomach once again. “That thing looks expensive so be careful next time.”

Just like that, John doesn’t get the chance to reply back. She makes her leave and patters away from him, and he watches. He watches until she’s out of the view, taking a turn to a corner, leaving John with something he can’t quite figure out yet, but he soon will be.

For the first time in a while, he feels something new.

Suddenly, everything is too good to be true.

John will find himself staring at his hands for too long, still feeling the ghost of her soft skin on his fingers, fantasizing about her pretty face and soft, plump lips.

It’s scary for him to feel something again because that only means destruction. John likes to believe he has a gift of ruining everything he touches, especially the pure ones – like her. It’s a proven statement. Just look at Helen and Daisy.

This little one won’t be any different, he’s sure of it. John’s whole body is heating up everytime he thinks about her. The look on her face when she saw John’s chilling expression, her wide eyes, so glossy and innocent.

John wants to see her again.

His fingers itch, yearning to touch her again.

Why he’s suddenly interested in a young woman he just met a few days ago, he has no idea. John’s a bit confusing – fucked up, even. He long accepted the fact that his mind is nowhere near healthy years ago. He tried to push those thoughts away when he met Helen, but now he’s out of his shell and back in business, there’s no need to.

He’s always been one of the wolves, and now that he’s laid his eyes on his next meal, he will make sure there’s not a single thing that will get in his way to hunt her down.

He had a crisis for two days before doing the unexpected. It didn’t take long for John to find her.

Now, John has been following her around for a week, and he noticed a certain pattern his little one likes to follow as she goes on her day.

The very place where they met is where she lives, surrounded by a bunch of goons who have no idea what to do with their lives. John begins to wonder why she’s living in a place like that. He could take her, put her somewhere safe, under his care and protection. Make sure no one will dare to lay a finger on her.

John knows where she works. At a veterinary clinic not too far from her apartment, which is why she walks to work every three in the afternoon, but not without stopping by in her favorite deli and getting a large order of her favorite sandwich. She’s a part-timer. She’d be at school from seven to twelve, and at work from three to eight.

John finds the little things she does amusing. He’d be seated in a cafe right across from her work, watching how she moves around her office through a big window, petting and cooing at the animals who come and go.

She’s so perfect, so pure, so naive. She has no idea that a monster is lurking ten feet away from her, watching her every move like a hawk, thinking about the ways he could destroy her, make her his.

John is not delusional. He’s fully aware of what he’s doing and he’s aware of what people might call him.

Stalker.

Creep.

They don’t know him though. They don’t know why he acts this way. They’d do the same if they were him, that’s for sure. He’s not the bad guy here, he’s simply just protecting her little one, even from afar. John went as far as destroying a whole Russian Bratva for a mere puppy and a car, he’d do even worse if she’s somehow taken away from him.

John sees her exiting the building and his first thought is to follow her. He stands up from his seat, the cup of coffee long forgotten as he makes his way out of the café and keeps a safe distance between the two of them. It’s risky, especially in the broad daylight, but John knows she’s too oblivious to notice.

She’s with her friends this time, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by John how she clings at the shirt of her co-worker as they cross the street, small hands fisting at the fabric. He thinks about how he won’t ever let go of her hand once she’s his. He’s not big on physical affection, having to grow up with no parents and a rather strict orphanage, but maybe he could be gentle. Engulf her hand in his, stroke it with his thumb, tuck her hair behind her ears, show everyone that she’s already owned.

They wouldn’t dare to lay their hands on her again.

John walks in the middle of the sidewalk, not bothering to move away despite seeing people approaching. He doesn’t need to, the look in his face is enough for people to give him the way. It’s interrupted however, when someone does try to get in his way, placing a hand on his chest and pushing him back a little.

John clenches his jaw, pissed. He takes his eyes from his little one and on the person who so rudely interrupted what he’s doing – it’s Marcus.

“John? I was just looking for you at the Continental.” Marcus has a small smile on his face, clearly not aware of John’s expression.

His eyes dart behind Marcus, where his little one is supposed to be, but she’s gone. John feels something curl in his stomach, his fingers itching again, eyes rapidly searching for her in the sea of people.

He looks at Marcus again, deciding he’ll just find her later, but he worries that something might happen to her now that John’s attention isn’t on her.

“Why?” he almost snaps, voice deep and laced with no emotion.

“Why? Because it’s been quite some time, John. I haven’t heard from you since the Iosef situation, but I did hear you’re back in business,” Marcus replies, but when he sees how distracted John looks, his voice falters. “You working?”

“Yeah.” The lie comes off smoothly. “I’ll see you around.”

John taps Marcus’ shoulder, trying to sound as polite as possible even though he badly wants to break a couple of his teeth for taking his attention away from her. He knows Marcus is probably noticing something, but John’s never the one to care.

Marcus drops the subject. “Alright, John. I’ll see you around.”

With that, John disappears in the crowd with no looking back.

It’s been awhile since John last took a job.

He can’t seem to take his eyes away from his little one. He can’t stop fucking stalking her from morning to night time.

John’s afraid that once he takes his attention from her even for a second, something bad might happen to her. It’s engraved in his mind that she can’t protect herself and he’s solely there to be the protector.

No one would understand. He’s doing this for her own good.

John’s absence at the Continental doesn’t go unnoticed by Winston and Charon. They’re his favorite, after all. Watch his every move carefully ever since that ugly murder John did. Perhaps he could make his next kill even uglier. To them, it’s vile and grotesque. For John, it’s special and unique.

This time, it took a good self-beating before John decided to take a contract. Three million to hunt down a rival crime lord, nothing he can’t handle, but somehow it brings an unusual feeling on his shoulder he isn’t fond of. Perhaps because John’s leaving his little one for a while and he isn’t quite sure what to feel. Worried and pissed – but mostly worried.

That is why he hired someone to trail his little one on his behalf. Everyone in business would do anything for a coin despite how fucked up disturbing it is. John offered a generous amount of coins to keep the assassin’s mouth shut, but he also held him at gunpoint and gave him a good talk before he sent the dog out in the field.

His only job is to keep an eye on her, report everything he’ll see to John, and maybe even take pictures for safety purposes.

John has been overseas in the last three days, and everything that’s been sent to him has been his only form of entertainment. There’s videos of her giggling with her friends, videos and photos of her in the library, outside her school, her work, and even in her apartment. There’s also information sent to him about the background of her friends – every single one of them, because John didn’t pay so much for nothing.

There’s one particular friend that ticks off John in all the worst way possible. He’s young, around her age, and the way he hugs and touches her just fucking sets him off. John wants to break his fingers in half. He reminds himself that once he’s home, he’ll make sure to take care of that boy himself.

“What else have you got?” John questions through the phone, and it doesn’t take long for his precious dog to respond.

“Oh, he is one creepy motherfucker. I’m starting to understand why you’re so riled up with this guy, boss. The urge to strangle him every time he gets in the picture gets stronger and stronger everyday.” He hears a laugh at the other end. The guy that’s working for him – Alex, if he remembers correctly – is young, new in business, knows not to fuck with John so he keeps his job adequate. If Alex ever notice how fucked up John is for making him follow a young woman to keep his life in order, he doesn’t say anything about it. “Just tell me when I can shoot this guy and I’ll do it in a heartbeat.”

“Leave him. Keep an eye on him, but don’t kill him,” John advises, his tone leaving no room for discussion. “I’ll handle him myself when I get back. For the meantime, focus on Y/N and keep any troubles out of her way. Fail that task and I’d serve your head hot on a platter.”

“You got it, boss.”

John is playing nicely.

He’s not going to force his way into her life. He’s gonna be welcomed, with open arms, desired.

There are times he’d thought about giving in to his desperation and act with his dick instead of his head. There are times he’d thought about following her to a dark street, where no one’s around, he’s on the prowl and ready to pounce. He’d put a fabric against her mouth and nose, laced with enough chemicals to make her pass out and for him to carry her in his car with no problems whatsoever. John thinks about how he’d make it look like he’s just picking up his very drunk and passed out girlfriend and no one would know a goddamn thing.

John would keep her in his house where she won’t need anything but him.

But of course, he’s not that cruel.

They’re only thoughts. Thoughts that he tries hard to keep away, but at the end of the day he reminds himself that he’s better than that.

John is not going to force his way into her life.

He’ll make sure to get her addicted enough to come crawling at his feet herself. She’ll be dependent on him, won’t be able to live without him. John will make sure his plan will go out smoothly or otherwise he’ll be the one bringing Hell with him on this land and seek as much havoc as he possibly can.

The death emissary himself will strike tonight.

A Friday night out with her friends has John on high alert. That’ll only mean she’s constantly surrounded with people, god knows what could happen if John even takes his eyes off her for a second. He lurks on the side, blending himself with the crowd as much as he can all while keeping his gaze on her.

He doesn’t need any drugs to keep his mind insane, because the sight of a specific man getting very close to what’s his is enough to make him visualize all the ugly and twisted ways to kill a man.

She’s wearing a thin silky dress that’s low on her cleavage and shows her perky breasts. She’s currently the flame in a room full of moths, John included. Everyone’s eyes are on her, observing the way she sways her hips and sings along to the loud music – John’s fingers itch.

The itch to kill is back again, driving into his veins, his hands twitch on the table. John wants to pull out his gun and shoot everyone in this fucking room. He wants to stab them in the eyes one by one and make them feed it to themselves. He wants to grab this guy on the neck and slam his head against the wall repeatedly until his brain scatter all over the fucking place and there’s nothing left for him to ruin.

This guy is getting on his fucking nerves.

John watches as the man smoothly brings his arm on her shoulder, whispering something in her ear that doesn’t make her look so impressed. In fact, she looks disturbed, uncomfortable, tense. Despite the guy being her friend, John could tell she doesn’t feel comfortable with the way he’s showing her affection.

It’s hard to see her like this, but he knows he can’t just jump in between the two of them and beat the shit out of the guy until he chokes on his own blood. He’ll have to wait, maybe after this party, he’ll strike and discard the body in a way that’ll make even Winston spook in his sleep. It’s not a major offense to kill a man that’s not in the game anyway – or at least that’s what John tells himself.

This guy wouldn’t be able to be three feet near his little one once John’s done with him. He’ll be six feet under.

John sees her swiftly moving away from his touch, trying to make her rejection look as polite as possible, which receives a not-so-amused reaction from her little friend.

This guy doesn’t deserve her at all. No one does. Except maybe John, but that’s because he knows he’s capable of actually taking care of her and keeping her safe. Nobody would understand what he feels, what he yearns, what he wants.

Good girl, John thinks. Walk away.

His gaze follow her as she makes her way to the backdoor and out to the cold air of the city. John follows in a hurry, keeping a safe distance between the two of them, then opens the door as quietly as possible so he wouldn’t let his presence known.

There are a few people on the street, either having a smoke break or making out against the piss stained wall, but she stays just beside the busy road as she wraps her arms around herself.

His gaze burn daggers on her exposed back, the urge to cover her up with his jacket and take her home. A drunk man comes stumbling out of the club, accidentally tripping over his steps and he pushes her hard enough to make her yelp as her heels lose balance and almost making herself get run over by a passing truck.

Almost.

Everything happens so fast. One moment John is standing five feet from her, the next is he’s grasping her wrists in his hand and pulling her back to her feet and dragging her back to the curb. He was already on the act once he saw the man exiting the club, he knew exactly this would happen.

The scene looks strangely familiar, one John could never forget. The same position, same hand placement, same rough fingers around her wrist and dark eyes boring into hers – their very first meeting.

“You!” she gasps, not caring about the fact that she almost just got hit by a fucking truck. “I know you! You’re the guy outside my apartment that day! What are you doing here?”

John stares. Predictable. Of course she’s talking to him like they’ve known each other for years. She’s too friendly.

“Hello to you too,” John replies, though his tone is blank as well as his face. “You remember me.”

“‘Course I do,” she giggles, a little tipsy, pupils dilated and licking her lips nervously. “You’re pretty hard to forget. I remember asking my neighbors around the area if you’re new there, turns out you were just visiting.”

John furrows his brows, hand still not letting go of her wrist. What does she mean by she’s asked around the area about him?

His face must’ve looked confused, he sees her grinning childishly. “It’s a coincidence that I see you again!”

Not a coincidence, but fate.

John doesn’t believe in a lot of things, but he believes in fate. Fate brought him Helen, and now fate is bringing him another angel. If she really went as far as asking the neighborhood about his existence, then it must be fate.

“I’m Y/N. I figured if we keep bumping into each other then you should at least know my name,” she says, completely oblivious that John already knows everything that has to be known about her. From her little mannerisms to the last name of her fucking grandmother. “May I know yours or are you just gonna stare at me all night?”

“It’s John,” he gulps, not wanting to look like a loser in front of her, not after everything he went through for her. “It’s really nice to see you again.”

He sucks at this. He fucking sucks at this.

“You haven’t answered my question, by the way. What brings you here?”

It hangs in the air, John lets go of her wrist. Luckily, he thinks fast enough and says the first thing that comes to his mind. “Work.”

“Ah, work,” she nods. “You work here? In the club? What are you, a bouncer or something?”

“I don’t. Someone I work with is in the club.” A lie, but it’s not like she would know. “We had a talk.”

“Not really a man of words, eh?” she raises an eyebrow teasingly.

“This is the most words I’ve said in the past few days,” John says. “I’d say you’re special.”

The look on her face is enough to make his entire night even better. Blushing, lips opening and closing, not knowing what to say. John wants to graze his thumb on her lips, thinking about how good it would feel stretching over his cock.

He blinks. Where did that come from?

“For someone who doesn’t talk much, you sure make it sound smooth when you do. Are you always this slick, John?” she giggles again, music to his ear. “That’s actually better than what I heard from my friend earlier, so thank you.”

“That’s good to know.”

Before she could say anything back, the door of the club opens once again and her friends appear, waving a hand at her and beckoning her to get inside. She looks at John, gives him a sympathetic look, as if apologizing that their talk gets cut off too soon.

“I’m really sorry but my friends want me back in there. Hopefully we can continue this again, yeah?” she smiles cheekily, tucking her hair behind her ear. “If you want, you could give me your number so we can talk someplace else? You know… with no one bothering us and all that.”

There it is. John didn’t think it would be this easy to sink the hook in. All he needs to do is pull and take what’s meant to be his.

“Sure.” He enters his number swiftly, feeling that familiar burn in his guts once again when he sees the wallpaper being her pretty face. “Feel free to message me whenever you want. I’ll make time for you.”

She looks at her phone and smiles before starting to walk away from him, waving a hand goodbye, but it doesn’t feel like a goodbye. John knows it isn’t. She’s already his the moment she started talking to him again.

“Of course! Get home safe, John! I’ll see you soon!”

“You too.”

She doesn’t know John won’t be heading home any time soon until he knows she’s safe and sound in her apartment.

Jay Lopez.

The name burns on his tongue. Bitter and resentful. He stares at the photos his precious dog sent to him and he has to stop the impulse to burn every single one of them.

Jay Lopez is the guy that’s been leeching on his girl since the dawn of time, and thankfully John is here to put an end to it.

He’s hideous. It’s interesting how John stooped this low that he’d be willing to kill a college student for being too near his little bambi, but alas, he’s never the one to care for such things. Morals and righteousness have never been in his book, not now, nor ever.

It’s only a matter of time until he gets rid of this pest. He’s fucking creepy, follows around not only Y/N but a bunch of other women.

John doesn’t want his death to be quick and simple. He wants to do it in an ugly way, make sure his body will never be found, make sure he’ll never get to lay his hands and eyes on what’s his. The way Jay stares at her in these pictures ignites something evil within John’s veins. It’s been awhile since he felt something like this.

“Alex.” he looks at his pet standing by the door, waiting for the next command. “Bring him to me alive.”

“Can I at least rough him up a bit?”

John doesn’t answer at first, looks back at the photos on his table. “Do what you want, just make sure he’s still breathing when you bring him here.”

“On it, boss.”

Truth be told, John doesn’t need a pet to order around for this job. He has himself – a labeled attack dog of the Tarasovs for years, their hellhound, chained and muzzled unless they need him to kill. He’s a one man army as some would say, he doesn’t need Alex running around doing tasks for him, but it sure does make the job a lot faster.

It’s not a way to downgrade his reputation nor skills to hunt, he really just needs this Jay guy gone as fast as possible.

On the same day, Alex manages to haul a very brutally violated Jay to the floor of his basement. He stinks, pants wet from piss and a face John is having a hard time recognizing.

“You said rough him up a bit, not make him look unrecognizable.”

“Same thing.”

Jay is sobbing his eyes out, his cries of pleas falls to deaf ears and John just wants to fucking bash his skull with his own foot. “W-who are you guys?! What the f-fuck did I do?! Get me out of here or I’ll tell the fucking police–”

John kicks him on the chin hard to stop the goon from rambling. “You’re not telling anybody any shit, tough guy.”

“So, what are you planning to do to him? Can I watch?”

“Can you handle it?”

Alex shrugs. He’s in the presence of the most dangerous assassin in the underworld, wouldn’t hurt to learn anything from his skills and techniques, doesn’t matter how fucked up it is.

John nods towards the chainsaw sitting at the corner of the room, and Alex turns to face him with wide eyes. “Jesus Christ, man. You serious? Last time I heard you’re a hitman, not a serial killer.”

“Same qualifications. Same thing.” John grabs the man by the arm then drags him to a chair. He takes a rope from the table and swiftly ties him up securely. “We start with the head, then arms and legs. It would be hard to put his entire body in a drum full of acid, so we need to cut him off one by one.”

Alex looks like he’s about to run off somewhere safe from what he’s witnessing. “You’re talking like you’ve done this before, holy fuck.”

John gives him a look, and Alex immediately shuts his mouth. Right. He’d done this before. This is completely normal.

“I’ve been following you for a while, Jay. You’re a creep who befriends pretty girls, then you’ll drug them and make them have sex with you,” John taunts, the sound of his heels hitting the concrete floor is enough to send shivers down his spine. “Is that what you’re also planning to do with Y/N? Be her friend and fuck her once she’s drugged up and vulnerable?”

It’s a bold statement coming from John himself since he’s no better man than Jay, but at least his intentions come from a different place.

“You-you’re fucking sick!” Jay spits.

“I’m sick? I’m not the one going around making girls uncomfortable now, am I?” he picks up the chainsaw, then watches in enjoyment as Jay widens his eyes in fear. “We’re going to have a lot of fun, Jay. You won’t be able to use your pathetic little dick of yours to any woman ever again, and most importantly –”

John fires up the chainsaw, adrenaline coursing through his veins when he sees the horrified look in the man’s face as he tries to get up and scream for help.

“I can finally sleep well at night knowing you’re not in Y/N’s life anymore.”

As John steps into the light, a roaring chainsaw in his hands, Alex could only watch in horror as the basement gets painted with blood in mere seconds.

There’s a vacant apartment just across her room, giving John the perfect view of what she’s doing while she’s alone.

Most of the time, John will pull up a seat beside the window and take pictures. The other half of the time is just him staring, observing. It seems that she’s too comfortable knowing there’s no one across the building so she doesn’t close the curtains, leaving John no choice but to keep his eyes on her.

He found this place just three days after following her. He couldn’t help it. Following her to school and work suddenly wasn’t enough for John that he had to find a way to somehow watch her even in her sleep.

He should be ashamed of himself. He should feel guilty for what he’s doing – he should stop, but he just can’t. John’s already done too much. This is like being pulled back into the underworld all over again but this time, there’s something good that’s waiting for him on the other side.

Maybe it’s the delusion that comes with it that’s not stopping John from whatever he’s doing. Lately, he’s been thinking about how life would turn out to be if his plan goes out smoothly. They’d live happily ever after, she would end up loving him just the way he planned it out to be, and John will make sure no one will ever dare to take those peace away from him again.

He’d make sure no one will ever come close to her again once she’s his. She’d be isolated but protected. Just how John likes it.

It’s been two days since John gave his number, but he knows she’s just giddy and nervous to text him. He’d seen her staring at her phone, biting her bottom lip anxiously, thinking if it would be a good idea or not. He knows she’ll give in one way or another because he sees it in her face. She’s too easy, too gullible, too naive.

She’s lonely, just like him.

John could tell she’s waiting for someone – she’s desperate, no wonder she asked for his number the second time they met. She wants someone to take care of her, to hold her, tell her that she deserves the world. That someone is John whether she likes it or not.

This isn’t just any unhealthy obsession. John finds himself too deep to get out. He knows her little mannerisms, studied her every action, has a red room full of her pictures and no one can’t say he’s not ready to give up anything for her. John has already given up his sanity ever since he mutilated a man for being too close to her.

She’s his life now, his everything.

John watches intensely as she shreds her clothes in her room, baring him the full view of herself naked, and John grips the side of his chair too hard his knuckles turn white. This is the first time he’d seen her naked, it’s so sudden and so… perfect.

His cock fattens in his pants as he observes every curve of her body. Her waist is fucking perfect and her body is thick yet delicate. John thinks about bruising her sensitive skin, leaving a mark that will show everyone that she’s owned. He would love to see her in a collar, hear it jingle when she crawls.

She’s completely fucking naked that John wonder just how naive she is to think there would be no one seeing her like this. What if John isn’t the only one watching her? What if somebody else sees her like this? His fingers itch, jaw clenching.

He’d kill them. He’d kill them in front of her, and the thought somehow made his cock hard even more. He grimaces, disturbed at the reaction of his body.

John doesn’t really understand the sexual aspects of killing, but now he’s thinking about how she would react if she sees him working. He’d kill someone in front of her and he’d see the look of disgust and betrayal in her face. He can already imagine how her eyes would well up with tears and fuck, his dick shouldn’t be this hard.

She’d fear him, and John would be turned on. How fucked up would that be? Just how fucked up can his mind get?

He resists the urge to wrap his hand around his cock because fuck no. He would not stoop this low, he is not a teenage boy. No matter how strong the thoughts get, the thoughts of wrapping his own hand around her neck, squeezing it hard and cutting off her airflow as John forces his cock in her cunt, hearing her mewl and scream and beg to just –

John sucks in air, eyes back on her in her room, wrapping a robe around herself and heading to the bathroom. This is fucked up. His cock is incredibly hard and leaking, and his mind won’t stop thinking about how good her pussy would feel around him.

He’d talk her through it. Whisper sweet nothings in her ear as she releases around her cock, praising her for being such a good girl. Then he’d fuck her again, in a different position, debauching her in different ways not even the devil himself could think of.

John would ruin her, and she will have no choice but to accept it.

He brings his hand to his face as he sighs deeply. He wonders what Helen would feel of what he’s doing. Disgusted, no doubt. This is not the same man she fell in love with years ago. He would never do something like this, but fate has its plans, and John believes everything happens for a reason.

She was brought into his life for a reason and it’s up to him whether he takes.

John doesn’t realize that he’s been staring at nothing for too long until she comes back in his view once again. Her hair is still wet, still wrapped up in a fluffy pink robe, and John’s fingers itch to grab, squeeze, possess.

He sees her picking up her phone, staring for a moment before her fingers start typing. John has been anticipating this moment for so long, the time has finally come.

In his chest pocket, his phone buzz silently, the vibration sending excitement in his whole body.

There it is.

13.06.15 11:46 PM UNKNOWN NUMBER : hello! this is Y/N from the club the other night

13.06.15 11:46 PM UNKNOWN NUMBER : also that Y/N who returned your super expensive looking coin hehe ;) i hope you didn’t forget about me!

There it fucking is.

John’s lips curl into a small smile. His efforts are finally paying off.

All he needs to do is to get what’s his.

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick fanfiction #john wick imagine #john wick fanfic #john wick chapter 4 #john wick x you #john wick 4 #keanu reeves #john wick smut #ochl #my works

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johnwickluva · 4 months ago

Note

Hey! Can you please write for John Wick, where he gets jealous when the reader meets her male friend after a long time she keeps talking to him and forgets about John? (He hasn't confessed to her yet because of their age gap; don't worry, she is an adult!!). The reader is also very oblivious to his feelings and doesn't understand why he is acting like that.

Thank you!

Encounters

Summary: you’re with your best friend John and he acts weird when you bump into your old friend Nelson.

Word count: 2k words

A/N: this was the only way I’ll do an age gap idk if I got the math right but oh well

Triggers: idk if this needs triggers but some men mess with you in a bar and you talk about wanting to touch yourself

You were walking into the coffee shop with your best friend John, laughing. The two of you had met at a bar about four years ago.

You were twenty nine and had just broken up with your ex boyfriend at the time. Deciding the best course of action was to cry over a vodka cranberry. About three in, you were feeling pretty buzzed. A couple men from the bar had come up to you and started to hit on you. Apparently your tears were a turn on for them.

They offered to buy you drinks, take you home and help you wipe the tears off your face, and show you a good time. You were sick at this point and really starting to get pissed off. They weren’t even sexy. You had your eyes on this longer haired man at the bar.

His hair went to his shoulders and he was dressed in a black turtleneck. He was fit and in good shape, tall and extremely handsome. Scary too but you liked scary. He had looked over at you once but hadn’t looked back since, too focused on the door opening and closing again and again and in front of him.

The men wouldn’t stop and you finally tried to stand up and one went to touch you. Before he could you noticed he was stopped by another man with a black sleeve. Your adrenaline started to pick up as you hoped and prayed it was the man you’d been staring at. To your delight it was.

“Leave her alone.” He said out loud and you almost swooned.

His voice was husky and low. So sexy. In your drunken state you just stared at him.

“Or what tough guy?” He asked.

You could’ve sworn you saw the slightest smirk on his face before he let go of the man’s wrist and took a step back. The man turned to him and cocked his head, trying to size him up. You had a feeling he wouldn’t win this one.

“Or what? Huh?” He asked again.

The man went to push the attractive man and in one swift move— so fast you could barely see it— he punched him across the face. The scummy man went down and his friends looked like they were going to fight as well. You jumped back as one ran towards the man.

The long haired man kneed him in the dick and then grabbed the other friend and simply threw him to the floor. You had a feeling that wasn’t all he could do.

“That.” He nodded.

Before he could even turn to you the bartender came running up.

“You two! Out, now!

Really? After he let those men stare at you and hit on you? You stared him down, grabbed your drink and held it in your mouth. For a split second you thought about spitting it at him but realized you liked this bar and swallowed it. You paid for the drink and walked out.

Kicking yourself for not getting his name you started walking down the street. You began plans to go home and touch yourself to his chocolatey eyes when you felt a hand on your shoulder. Whipping around you were met by those same eyes. You felt yourself melt.

He was even more attractive up close. If any other man had put his hand on your shoulder you would’ve hit them. Instead you were in a trance.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

You looked into his dark eyes, feeling hypnotized. Yes, you were more than okay thanks to him. Still you wanted more drinks.

“Yes. Want to go get a drink?” You found your drunk self asking before your sober mind could catch up.

“Sure.” He agreed

The two of you had spent years getting to know each other as you were thirty three now and he was fifty. You found out John was into bookbinding and his car. He also was very funny and loved dogs. His music taste was all over and he was an excellent fighter. All of these things made you fall for him even more.

You stayed friendly though. If he only wanted to be friends then the two of you would continue on being friends. You wanted him in your life even if it wasn’t the way you truly wanted. Instead you kept it lowkey and let him do the things he wanted.

Sometimes the two of you would cuddle but John always initiated, you didn't have the courage. You valued that time though, his big strong arms wrapped around you, keeping you safe. Always, you wanted to kiss him. His lips looked so kissable. You touched yourself to the idea a lot.

You shook your head, to get you out of your daydreams, as you ordered yours and John’s coffees and you were about to pay when he pulled out his own wallet and paid. It always pissed you off because you were fully capable of buying two coffees. You rolled your eyes and went to scold him when your eyes landed on the man behind him.

John couldn’t help but look behind himself to see what you were staring at. He couldn’t help the jealous feeling that started to creep up in the back of his head at the sight. It was a man, a man you looked very excited to see. He was around your age with short black hair and a sweater on.

“Nelson!” You called out trying to catch his attention in the crowd and when you did he smiled.

Your friend Nelson walked up and hugged you. You had known him since high school, always playing video games with him in your twenties until he got his first ever job opportunity. Then he was always too busy to play with you anymore.

“Oh my god? YN?”

“Nelson?” You asked shocked, “I thought you moved to California?”

“I did, I'm just stopping back for a family visit. How are you?” He asked excitedly.

“I’m great!” You said.

The two of you continued on talking. John stood there, feeling awkward around this exchange. You felt a slight push on your arm and looked at your friend. Oops you forgot he was there for a moment and felt bad.

“Nelson, this is John. My best friend.” You announced.

John felt a bit heartbroken at the term best friend but went to shake his hand anyways. Without thinking he gave the man a firm handshake.

“Nice to meet you. Whoa. He’s got a strong grip.” He said to you worriedly.

And you smacked John in the bicep while feeling confused.

“I’m sorry! He’s sorry.”

“It’s no problem. Anyways we have to catch up. Maybe we can play some Call of Duty soon. My number is the same, I gotta go though.” He said before grabbing his coffee and hugging you again.

John felt himself tense up. It was only a couple minutes but watching you with him felt like a lifetime. He gave him a nod and then put his arm around you to help you find an open spot. The gesture was unusual and had you confused.

When you found a table to sit at you both sat down across from each other. John was staring behind you and lost in thought. You were so cute but he was literally a teenager when you were born. The shame that he felt in finding you attractive was overwhelming sometimes.

Age gaps were gross, especially when it was the man who was older. Typical. But he didn't like you for your youth, he liked you for your personality and everything you did. When youd scrunch up your face trying to solve a crossword or tap your foot while you read, he fell deeper in love.

John especially enjoyed your hugs. The only thing that made him feel better was that you were an adult, in your thirties. You weren't some naive twenty year old. Still he felt insecure. Was he just an old man?

John did not get insecure a lot but when it came to you he felt it all the time. He just wanted to be the best for you. The man could tell you liked him but the age gap was deterring him. Would you find him weird for liking you?

The man didn't understand how you couldn't know he liked you by now. John thought he made it quite obvious. Hugging you, kissing the top of your head, pulling you to cuddle with him occasionally and spending the night.

Men and women don't usually do those things unless they were dating but you seemed so oblivious. Just laughing it off and enjoying the moment. What he did not know is that you'd internally freak out every time he touched you because you just wanted to be with him.

John was snapped out of his thoughts by you snapping your finger.

“Hello, Earth to John Wick.” You said.

Before he could stop himself he asked a question.

“Do you think I'm old?” He asked.

“Not really.” You answered immediately. “My turn for a question.”

The two of you always did this. If one person asked a question the other would ask one as well. It was like a game.

“Why were you so weird about Nelson?” You took a sip of your coffee.

John felt himself heat up but kept his cool. If there was ever a time to discuss your relationship now seemed like the time. It was time to be honest with you and himself.

“I was jealous.”

You nearly spit out your coffee. Jealous? Why would he be jealous of Nelson? He was just a friend. In fact you tried to make yourself like him because he was such a kind man but you couldn't. It was purely platonic.

The two of you just played games together back in the early two thousands. You had so much fun and reminisced about the old times. Nelson used to be your best friend but now it was John. You loved John, maybe a little more than you should. More than you ever liked your friend.

It made you sad to know he probably didn't like you the same way… but why would he be jealous?

“Jealous? Why?” You wondered.

“That's two questions.” John pointed out, “Do you think our age gap is too big?”

“No.”

Relief washed over John and he suddenly got the courage.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

This time you started coughing and a couple of people looked at you. To you this came out of nowhere. John liked you? You grabbed a napkin and coughed into it, wiping the coffee from your lips. Although you wanted to jump up and down in glee and scream yes, you giggled.

“That's two questions.” You mocked him, “How long have you liked me?”

John groaned. Asking someone out never got easier in fifty years of life and you were making this very awkward for him. He couldn't love you more for it. You were putting him on the spot. He smiled.

“Since the bar.” He took his own sip of his coffee.

That was years ago. It hit you how unaware you had been. All the signs started to make sense. The way he'd make sure you got home safe, compliment you and grab your hand in public. You felt stupid but happy.

“To answer your other question, yes, I'll be your girlfriend.” You said with a smile.

John finally smiled a smile with teeth. He wanted to kiss you so badly but you were so far away, all the way on the other side of the table. Then you stood up and walked over to him. You bent down and looked him in the eyes.

“No need to be jealous, I'm all yours.” You whispered before kissing him.

In the middle of the coffee shop the two of you shared your first kiss. It tasted like coffee but was filled with lots of love. People stared but you didn't care, you were ecstatic. Coffee never tasted so good.

#john wick x reader #john wick fanfic #john wick x you #john wick x y/n

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sideeve · 2 years ago

Text

☆ ── YOUNGER THAN YOU

☆ ── he knew it was wrong to involve himself with someone younger than him. but it felt so good. ☆ ── age gap ( reader is in her 20’s and john is in his 40’s ) , emotionally closed off john , daddy issues ( not me projecting ) , smut ( p—in—v s*x ) , squirting , listen to younger than you by whirr

john sat in an empty booth, nursing a glass of alcohol that he would sip from time to time. the burning sensation every time he swallows kept him alive. he watched as the criminals socialized around him. he remembered when he was like them

he would be able to talk to anyone without a problem. now, he felt like an outcast. despite the fact that people feared him when his name was spoken.

he hated interactions that weren’t needed. he was a man that spoke a few words.

but you? everything was different with you. ever since helen passed away, he kept telling himself that he’ll never find love again.

but he kept finding himself tangled in bed with you at night. spending his mornings with you.

he even almost forgot about helen. you could take her place. but…something kept eating him alive.

you are too young. you were mature. you could take care of yourself. you were strong. mentally and physically. but in reality, you were too young.

──

“johnny.” you wrap your arms around his waist as he makes himself a bowl of cereal. you kissed his bare back, his scent filling your nostrils. he must have taken a shower recently.

“i missed you tonight. where did you go?” your hands travel up to his chest. “i needed some fresh air.”

in your mind, you knew that was code for “i needed some time to think about something.”

“what did you think about?” he takes a breath. “i think we should end this.” your arms leave his torso, taking a step back, “what?” he turns to you, that same stoic look on his face. “you’re too young for me. you need a man who is around your age. someone who knows what do with you.”

you scoff, “you must be joking right? when was age ever a problem between us?” “you don’t underst—” “no you don’t understand! i don’t want anyone else. i just want you, wick.”

you take your place again, in front of him, instead taking his arms to wrap around you. he would’ve moved his arms back but he didn’t. he couldn’t resist you. you were his kryptonite.

he pulled you closer. “i don’t know how i could live without you.” he bends down, taking your lips with his. you moan in the kiss, sending electric signals in his body.

he pats your thigh, telling you to jump. you wrap your legs around his waist as walks up to his your shared bedroom.

you bounce on the bed, giggling. your clothes quickly ripped, which he promised you that he would buy some more.

he placed himself between your legs, kissing up your thigh while one hand places itself on your breast. “john.” he hums in response. “please. no foreplay today.”

he chuckles darkly. “impatient, are we?” his clothes were taken off, his tip prodding at your hole, “you—” “just do it, please!” you whine.

the first thrust was hard. he practically slip you open. for an old man, he knew how to fuck.

his hands gripped your hips, letting him stroke deeper. “fuck—” you let out a strangled moan. his hips thrust in rhythm, hitting that sensitive spot on your spongey walls. “i could never leave you.” he bends down, kissing your neck. “i love you.”

a knot forms in your stomach, threatening to rip. “john, i think i’m—” “come.” his thrust get faster, chasing for both your orgasms. “s-shit.”

a liquid substance covers both of your legs. you were hoping he didn’t notice. but he did, he groaned in pleasure. “fuck.” he released in you, white painting your walls.

he pulls out, laying next to you. “i hope you’re on the pill.” your eyes widen, “you finished inside me?” silence covers the room.

he wraps his arm around your waist, “i wouldn’t be opposed to having a kid with you.”

#☆ ── ˚₊‧꒰ა WICKY ໒꒱ ‧₊˚#john wick x reader #john wick fanfic #john wick 4 #keanu reeves #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves x reader

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toxicanonymity · 2 years ago

Text

trouble master list (au)

Silence can never be bought, only rented (complete, 2023)

dbf!Joel x f!reader / non-outbreak

PREMISE: You come home one weekend and catch your rich family friend Joel in a compromising position. You want to hold it over him, but as you spend time together, you realize what you want more. And there's something going on with his mysterious job.

A/N: based on all the "I can't believe how much I liked this" comments, I guess I struggle with summaries lol. I would love it if you gave it a shot. It's not too dark and pretty different for a dad's-best-friend. He's been called the John Wick sugar daddy.

WARNINGS: major age gap (early 20s/50s), softdom!reader, various sexual activity, blackmail themes, criminal themes

part 1. (1.3k) - Sick

part 2 (2.5k) - Trouble

part 3 (4.4k) - You really are

part 4 (3.1k) - Cargo

part 5 (5k) - HOG Barbecue

part 6 (4k) - The Contractor

Other (one shots, HCs etc.)

Halloween drabble

IKEA Drabble

Birthday Strip Tease

back to Joel Miller master list.

#silence/jtt!joel #trouble!joel #joel miller x reader #dbf!joel #master list #joel miller smut #pervy!joel miller #pervy!joel #toxic masterlist #cw age gap

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keanusbabydoll · 4 months ago

Text

shower sex

paring: keanu reeves x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ content, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering, rough sex, arguing, degrading if you squint, little to no plot, shower sex, age gap

••••••𑁍𑁍𑁍••••••

keanu and y/n had been together for nearly a year now. she was an 20-year-old rising star with a rare blend of grace, beauty, and talent, while keanu, in his late fifties, was the seasoned actor everyone knew and loved. despite their significant age difference, their relationship was strong, built on mutual respect, a shared passion of acting, and an understanding of each other's unique lives. their love had a depth that surprised many, including themselves.

y/n had been cast in the latest john wick film as a pivotal character - a young assassin with a complexed relationship with wick. it was a huge break for her, a role that demanded everything she had to offer and more. but it also meant grueling days on set, hours of preparation, and physical exhaustion like she'd never known.

keanu was giving everything to the film; it was his most iconic role, and the fans expected nothing less than perfection.

the set was close to their shared home, each night they would return home, grateful for the privacy and comfort it offered. but something had begun to shift between them since the shooting started. the long days left little room for intimacy or even simple moments of connection. they would often return home after 10 PM, too tired to do anything but collapse into bed. some nights, keanu didn't even make it home, having to stay behind to train or prepare for the next day's fighting scenes.

but y/n could feel the tension building inside her. she missed him- needed him- missed the way they used to be before the shooting started. the stolen kisses, the laughter, the way they would get lost in each other's arms. and of course the sex. they used to fuck like literal rabbits, loving to be at it practically every minute, every day. but now it's completely different, both of them are always way too tired, especially keanu. it's not like y/n didn't have the energy or motivation to have sex, she dearly desired it, but it was keanu who mostly every time declined it. she understood that then film demanded everything from him, from them, but it didn't stop her from feeling the frustration of their growing distance.

she wanted him. hell, craved him. and the longer they went without any real intimacy, the more the frustration build up.

one evening, after another exhausting day on set, they finally made it back home just after 10 PM. y/n entered the house first, tossing her bag to the floor with more force than necessary. keanu followed her, his face lined with exhaustion, but there was a gentle smile on his lips as he greeted their dog, who was eagerly wagging his tail.

"I'm going to change." keanu said, his voice rough from the day. he kissed y/n forehead lightly, barely brushing her skin, before heading upstairs to their bedroom. she stood there, her body tense, the kiss doing nothing to alleviate the storm of emotions swirling inside her. she wanted more than just a peck on the forehead.

she wanted all of him.

y/n needed him in a way that only passionate sex could satisfy. she couldn't even describe it properly how much she needed him to ruin her. but every night, the exhaustion seemed to win.

keanu reappeared a few minutes later, now in a pair of loose sweatpants and a faded band tee. he sank into the couch with a groan, his head leaning back as he closed his eyes. the sight of him like this - vulnerable, weary - only intensified her desire. she couldn't wait any longer. she walked over to him and sat beside him, her hand gently caressing his cheek. "keanu." she whispered, her voice laced with yearning.

he opened his eyes, meeting her gaze with a tired but warm smile. "what is it, darling."

instead of answering, she leaned in, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. keanu responded, his lips moving against hers with a familiar softness, but there was a hesitation in his touch. undeterred, y/n deepened the kiss, her hand sliding down his chest, grazing his almost unnoticeable bulge ever so slightly. keanu pulled back, confusion written in his eyes. "y/n, wait..."

but she didn't want to wait. she knew what she wanted and that was definitely him. she straddled his lap, pressing herself against him, desperate to finally feel him against her. the moment she felt his dick pressing into her, her hips began to grind down on him hard. "I need you keanu." she murmured against his lips, her voice trembling with desire.

he placed his hands on her hips, gently but firmly stopping her movements. "I'm... I'm tired, love. I just don't have the energy." the words hit her like a slap in the face. y/n pulled back, her expression hardening as anger flared up inside her.

"tired?" she echoed, voice tinging with disbelief. "we haven't had sex in weeks, keanu! I know you're exhausted, but so am I! don't you think I need you too?"

Keanu's brows furrowed, his weariness replaced by frustration. "of course I know that, but I've been pushing myself to the limit every day. this movie - its grueling. you know how demanding it is!"

y/n stood up abruptly, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "I'm not asking for much! just one night, keanu. I want to feel close to you again, to remind myself that we're not just co-stars living in the same house!"

his eyes flashed with anger, his own patience wearing thin. "and you think I don't want that too? I'm not some machine, y/n! I'm giving everything I have there, and when I come home, I'm spent. I'm sorry if that's not enough for you." the harshness of his words cut deep, and she felt a sting of tears in her eyes. she turned away from him, arms crossed over her chest, unable to bear the sight of him in that moment.

"I can't believe you don't see how much this is hurting me." she mumbled quietly, voice shaking. Keanu's silence was deafening. he watched her, his expression softening but he didn't budge. he knew he had a point.

y/n shook her head in disbelief. "I'm going to take a shower." she muttered. without another word, she walked away, leaving keanu alone in the living room.

as she stepped into the bathroom and turned on the shower, the sound of the water cascading down felt like a small reprieve from the turmoil raging inside her. with a sigh she stripped off her clothes and stepped under the hot stream, letting it wash over her, hoping it could cleanse away the anger and hurt she felt. but the tears she had been holding back finally spilled over, mixing with the water as they fell from her cheeks. a sob escaped her mouth as she leaned her back against the wall, head tilting up. they had barely touched each other in weeks, and the absence of his touch, his presence, was like a void. she ached for him, and not forget to mention the sex. but every night it seemed to slip further away.

as the minutes passed, her anger began to ebb, replaced by a deep, gnawing sadness. she hated fighting with keanu, hated the distance between them. how had they come to this? they had been so happy, passionate, so in sync. all she wanted was for things to go back to the way they were before the movie had taken over their lives.

y/n wasn't sure how much time had passed when she heard the bathroom door creak open. her heart skipped a beat as she opened her eyes and turned her head slightly, expecting to see keanu standing there. he was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, his expression softened by an apology that had yet to be spoken. he was still wearing his sweatpants, but his shirt was gone, revealing his toned body she loved so much.

"y/n." he said, his voice barely above a whisper, yet it echoed in the small space. she didn't respond, her eyes flickering with a mix of emotions - anger, hurt and a desperate yearning. keanu took a step closer, his gaze never leaving hers as he reached for the hem of his sweatpants, slowly pulling them down. y/n watched, her breath catching in her throat as he stripped down, his vulnerability in that moment touching her in a way she hadn't expected. he stood there for a moment, hesitating, as if unsure whether she would welcome him or push him away. but then he stepped into the shower, the water immediately soaking his hair, his body, as he closed the distance between them.

his hands found her waist, and he pulled her to him, their wet bodies pressing together as the stream enveloped them. "I'm sorry." he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

she looked up at him, her eyes searching his face for any trace of anger that had been there before, but all she saw was regret, love and... lust. "I just... I miss you keanu." she admitted, voice trembling. "I miss us." he nodded, his forehead resting against hers. "I know, and I miss you too. I've been so caught up in everything - the training, fighting scenes- I lost sight of what really matters." he cupped her face in his hands, this thumbs brushing away the lingering tears on her cheeks. "I'm here now y/n. I'm right here."

the sincerity of his voice broke down the last of her defenses. she leaned into him, her hands gripping his arms as she felt the warmth of his body against her own. Keanu's lips found hers, this time with a tenderness that melted away the frustration that had built up inside her. the kiss was slow, deliberate, a silent promise that he was there with her, fully present in that moment.

they stayed like that for a while, the water pouring over them as their kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more needy. his hands roamed over her whole body, slightly squeezing her breasts. his touch ignited a fire within her that she had longed to feel for weeks. y/n responded with equal fervor, her fingers sliding up and down his chest. "keanu," she breathed as she pulled away from their intense kiss. she looked at him with lust filled eyes, wanting him right now. "I need you."

his response was a low groan as he gripped the back of her thighs and lifted her up. instinctively, her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer to her aching body. the passion between them was undeniable, a raw, primal need that had been simmering beneath the surface for too long. keanu pressed her against the cold tile wall, his mouth trailing hot kisses down her neck as she arched against him. her arms wrapped around his neck, a moan slipping past her lips. he passionately started to suck and lick on the sensitive skin, enjoying the sounds she was making.

her excitement just grew even more when she felt his hard cock press up against her tingling pussy. slowly, she started to move against him to gain some friction, eliciting a low growl from him. "please more, keanu." she whimpered. he pulled away from her neck and looked at her with those eyes that would make her weak every time. "my little impatient girl."

the hand that rested loosely on her neck, sneaked it's way down to her aching cunt, slowly, going up and down between her wet folds. he moaned out at the feeling, giving her a peck on the lips. "you're so wet for me baby." he mumbled as he pushed two of his fingers inside of her warm walls. "ah- just f-for you." y/n whined out. he scissored his fingers inside her before he arched his fingers up, pressing directly onto that spot that made her see stars. when he began to thrust his fingers up, a loud moan escaped her throat and her head flew back in bliss.

her grip on keanu tightened and she rocked against his fingers, needing to feel him even more. the pace of his fingers increased, making her a moaning mess already. he just knew too well how to make her fold. her walls started to flutter around his digits, the coil in her abdomen slowly building up. "fuck, daddy!" she breathed out as her eyes shut close.

"you're doing so good for me baby." he rumbled right into her ear, licking a stripe down her neck. the sight of her made keanu twitch in excitement, needing her just as much, he knew he couldn't hold back much longer. after a few more strokes of his fingers, he pulled out of her slippery hole, making her cry out at the denial, her forming orgasm fading away. "daddy..." she whined, staring up at him with those puppy eyes. a smirk played on Keanu's lips when he heard her desperate cries.

"don't you want to come around daddy's cock?"

her mouth opened a little, but she just nodded silently in reply, eyes sparkling with desire at the thought of it. "of course you want it, little slut." he growled before he lined up with her welcoming entrance. with a swift move of his hips, he slid into her hole with ease, filling her up to the brim. a loud squeal escaped y/n‘s throat at the feeling of getting ripped open by his dick. she would never get used to his size, doesn’t matter how many times they would fuck.

the burning pain washed through her whole body and her face scrunched up in discomfort. keanu watched her face closely, observing her every reactions. he didn’t move, waiting for her to get used to him and tell him to start.

he would always do that. he wanted her to feel safe and comfortable around him.

but there definitely were times where he wouldn’t care a bit about her comfort, completely showing off his dominant side.

and y/n secretly loved this.

obviously.

she breathed in sharply before she opened her eyes, immediately meeting keanu‘s lustful gaze.

"you can move.“ a quiet whisper echoed in the room. his grip on her body tightened before he began to thrust inside her with a slow but hard pace. the second he began to move, her world turned upside down.

she had missed this way too much. missed him way too much.

y/n wrapped her arms around his neck and clung tighter to him, her face buried in the crook of it. keanu grabbed her thighs harder before he began to move her body against his, meeting his own thrusts. his lips found hers, capturing her mouth in a heated kiss. their lips moved against each other with desire and when y/n let out a whimper, keanu slipped his tongue in, fighting for dominance.

hot, high pitched moans filled the air as the water poured down on them, adding even more intimacy to their long desired moment.

"please go faster keanu.“ she whimpered as she pulled away from the kiss and the second the words left her lips, he increased his speed, clashing his hips faster, more furiously against her.

"oh fuck.“ she moaned out at his pace. one of john’s hand wandered up her body, caressing her tits, squeezing ever so harshly and pulling on her hardened nipples before it grabbed ahold of y/n‘s throat. his grip was harsh and he pushed her head back against the tile wall, making her look at him.

"is that what you wanted?“ keanu asked, his hips rutting harsher and faster into her at every word that came out of his mouth.

with the pressure of his hand on her throat and the intense hammering of his hips, y/n can’t even think straight, her senses are completely dazed, all she has on her mind is keanu and how good and hard he’s fucking her. she doesn’t even comprehend his words.

a harsh slap on her cheek, drives her back into reality and her eyes shoot open to look at him. he’s already staring at her with harsh, darkened eyes.

"answer. me.“ he growled as he tightened the grip around her throat even more, almost cutting off her airways and just fucked rougher into her.

"mh-yes, that’s- that’s what i wanted.“ she managed to mewl out before she focused on the pleasure he was giving to her again. in reply, keanu just smirked darkly before he completely pulled out of her.

with knitted eyebrows and mouth wide agape, she looked up at him with confusion written all over her face. "what- what’s wrong?“ she mumbled.

wordlessly, keanu set her down and with the blink of an eye she was turned around and mushed up against the frigid glass wall. he reached around her middle, pulled her hips back, and made her arch her back. with his knee, he pushed her wobbly legs wide open and with a sharp thrust he filled her hole up again. "keanu!“ she yelled out, pressing her palms against the glass for support but it was useless. he immediately started off with a quick pace, hands placed on her hips.

the new angle allowed his tip to brush exactly into that one spot that made her knees go weak and eyes turn to the back of her scull. the cool sensation of the glass wall on her hardened nipples only added fuel to her receiving pleasure.

"my little slut. taking me so well.“ he murmured against her ear, his dick plunging into her in an animalistic speed and harshness.

too lost in the moment, y/n didn’t even notice when keanu sneaked a hand around her middle again and began to rub circles on her swollen clit, eliciting a loud and powerful whine that echoed in the room.

with the constant stimulation on her clit and g-spot, y/n felt her orgasm slowly building up and her legs began to tremble, almost giving out.

keanu seemed to notice this and wrapped his other hand around her upper body, supporting her in the best way possible. hearing her sweet moans and cry’s sent waves of pleasure through his whole body, getting closer and closer to his release as well. his eyes fell closed and his head leaned back, enjoying the feeling of her warm, velvety walls wrapped around him so perfectly.

the speed of his fingers increased and y/n‘s moans began to get louder and louder, almost reaching her peak.

"im gonna cum, daddy!“

with an answering groan, keanu pounded into her deeper than before and sped up his moving hips to their maximum, his fingers pressing and circling her nub harsher.

"cum with me princess.“ he snarled as he finally let go, spurting all of his seed deep inside of her. his orgasm triggered y/n‘s own and with a pornographic moan she stumbled over the edge, coming hard around him. keanu fucked her through their orgasms, letting them ride it out.

"oh god, keanu!“ she yelled out at the intense fire burning inside of her as she pressed her cheek against the wall.

his movements slowed down and after a few thrusts his hips came to an halt. y/n gasped out, breathing heavily. keanu now wrapped both of his arms around her body lovingly, pressing his chest to her back.

"you did so good for me y/n.“ he whispered, voice soft, placing a small kiss to her temple.

carefully, keanu pulled out of her hole, eliciting a groan from both of them, and turned her around.

"i‘m sorry y/n. i shouldn’t have treated you like this. i- just- i hope you forgive me.“ the man mumbled, pressing his forehead against hers. she wrapped her arms around his torso, enjoying the warmth of his body.

"of course i forgive you. i‘m so relieved that we finally talked about all this, that you finally understand how i feel.“ she replied with a softness in her tone.

how could she ever be mad at him. he’s her whole world.

keanu smiled at her words and captured her face, pulling her into an passionate kiss. but the kiss showed off all of his emotions - love, happiness, sorrow, tenderness. y/n returned the kiss with equal fever, pulling him closer.

"i love you doll.“ he whispered against her lips.

"i love you too.“ she smiled before clashing her lips once again onto his.

#keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves fic #keanu fan #dogstar band #john wick #keanu reeves x you #fanfiction #smut #keanu reeves smut #keanuverse #keanu reeves imagine #john wick x reader #john wick fandom

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ficsbb · 11 months ago

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

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

》 Pairing: John Wick x Fem!Reader

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

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

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

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

#reader insert #john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x y/n #john wick x you #keanu reeves #reader x character #fem!reader #answered 💌

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97keanu · 1 year ago

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hey! you could write with john wick coming home to find his wife in the garden with the "garden boy" who clearly likes her but she doesn't realize it. i imagine john being subtle and quiet with his jealousies, nothing too scandalous but serious and direct. fluffly, please and thank you so much 🩷

*˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳I loved this idea so much! I hope you like it, feel free to ask for any expanding drabbles of these two <3

Jealous!John Wick x Naive!Reader

Tags: john is jealous, reader is naive about his jealousies, gardener def has a crush but would rather quit than act on it with john always around, age gap mention, lower class reader in a rich world, possessive john, protective john, primal john

Summer was dying, August dragging out the heat of July, telling the world it was unready to leave just yet. And you, well, you were enjoying the last of the long days, the time when sunset went on for ages, and burned in the sky a blazing orange over your backyard. You always loved the sun, how it turned everything golden each evening, and how it kissed your skin with its heat.

You were barely breaking a sweat, laying out by the pool while the gardener worked on the bushes. He was young. More around your age than your husband John. Which was nice sometimes, when you got to converse with him, both because of his age, and like you he wasn't from a wealthy background. It kept you a bit more grounded while the life of luxury continued on around you, it was nice to confide in him.

Unfortunately, what you never noticed was the gardeners wandering eyes. Even now, as you lay out in your bikini, eyes closed and skin happy to drink up the suns rays, he can't help but to watch you. If you asked the gardener about it, he would never admit to his little crush on you. As much as that would be unprofessional of him, he also has no interest in messing with his employer, John Wick. There were rumors, you know, about John coming home, bruised and bloody, a painting of struggle on his skin, the smell of gunpowder on his suit. The gardner has even caught a glimpse before, and watched as you greet your husband as a source of safety and comfort. No one asked why it was that John came home in such a state, but everyone knew, and because of that, the gardener would never pursue you. He would remain a healthy confidant, easing your worries in the world of the rich, and letting you keep in touch with the world outside the private neighborhood.

The gardener still steals a look or two while he thinks he can get away with it. His headphones buzz with music, drowning out the weed whacker as well as much of his own thoughts. He idly appreciated your body and your beauty from afar, before his stomach drops. He felt for only a moment that he was the one being watched now, and when his eyes flicker up, he meets a set of dark, dangerous eyes. John has entered the backyard, likely in search of his wife, who is currently enjoying the last days of summer. The most frightening part is how close he is, the gardner had no idea that John had snuck up behind him, and now he feels the trail of sweat down his back running cold.

Instead of finding his wife, John sees this man, who he pays handsomely to do work John has no time for, drooling over his wife. The gardener quickly looks away, trying to be busy with work, but the feeling of John's gaze never leaves his back. He starts to feel sweaty for reasons besides the burning August heat, and does everything he can to stop from looking over his back once more. There was just something about John that scared him to his core, and he felt he should trust that feeling if he were to survive.

Unfortunately for the gardener, John isn't finished. He feels John remove one of his ear buds, the man now so close he can smell John's expensive taste in cologne.

"I don't pay you to eye fuck my wife." John growls out, assertive and serious.

"N-no, of course not, Mr. Wick…" The gardener quickly tries to find his way out of this mess, John's cold eyes are enough to scare him away from looking at you for a good long while.

"Good. I suggest you go home for the night." John maintains professionalism always, but the thoughts running through his head tell a different story. The gardener can practically see these thoughts and takes John's suggestion, quickly moving away to pack up.

Meanwhile, you don't even know this interaction has happened, eyes closed lightly, sunglasses blocking out the sun. It isn't until John's lips kiss and whisper against your cheek, that you realize your husband is home for the day. Your eyelids flutter open, happy to see his dark form against the dulling blue sky. He looks at you with a small fire in his eyes, and you have no idea he is trying to show off while he continues to kiss down your neck.

He's halfway to your breast, maybe more, when you glimpse the gardener beginning to pack up in a haste, and gently pull John away, for modesty if anything. You notice the gardener refuses to look in your direction and wonder why.

"John, wait…" You say softly, and John let's out a small noise of annoyance that his lips must be pulled from your soft skin.

"What's wrong?" His voice is low, gruff.

"Let's wait until…" Your eyes finish your sentence, looking towards the gardener once more. John scoffs when he sees where your gaze is going.

"What? I'm not allowed to lay claim to you in front of the staff?" He says, almost arrogantly. You aren't exactly surprised, John has always been protective, if not possessive. You don't mind it much, in fact sometimes it even turned you on how primal he could be about it. But you also thought you had tamed his jealousy regarding the gardener months ago.

"You don't have to claim me, John, I'm already yours…" You say with a smirk, kissing right under his well kept beard. John seems to be calmed for the moment by your words, and while he enjoys your kiss, the gardner slips away for the night, safe once again for now.

John's eyes open when your lips leave his neck, and he looks down at you, perplexed.

"Why'd you stop…?" He breathes out, voice already dripping, husky with want. You smirk, and stand from where you were sun tanning, taking his hand and pulling him to the house.

#john wick x f!reader #john wick drabble #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick fan fic #lila speaks #ask lila #keanu reeves #my writing #••• ◛ ʸᵒᵘ’ᵛᵉ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵐᵃⁱˡ!

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valentinxd · 9 months ago

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MAYBE IN ANOTHER UNIVERSE

Prompt: You happen to be an actress in John Wick 3 and had made small appearances in the first two movies, with minimal roles. Now having a small part in the third installment of the famous franchise you get to spend some time with your co-star who is a little too much in character....

Reader has blonde hair and is nicknamed Barbie

Pairing: Keanu Reeves? x Female Reader

Warnings: I also took a bit of freedom and changed bits of the movie for my own purpose. bit yandere behavior, age gap, slight stalking, reader is 29 and Keanu is 55. author is a filmmaker and knows a little too much about how the film world is so I apologize for it. Not proofread

Note: this is my first time posting on this blog but I had another one years ago writing other fanfics but I finally caved and wanted to join this cute little group of babes in the keanuverse. I love reading your work and I enjoy looking for more <3

You were 20 years old when you landed a role in John Wick. You had heard of the name as the comics were circulated among your friends in college and the actor who was attached to it. Keanu Reeves. A long-time crush and fan of his work you pursued acting with hopes of paying off your school and instead found yourself falling in love with it. Despite your family’s concern you traded in your anatomy books of veterinary medicine to the latest stage plays as you devoured words and changed identities. You were a natural.

You had a few small roles here and there, then after a part in a feature film did one of the department heads recommend you to a casting director looking for extras for a new action flick. You accepted it as you were kind to everyone you met which got you jobs easier.

The part you played was small, in the first movie you would be an extra in the Continental Hotel - a hit woman who sat in the lobby and was seen again in the bar, no lines, easy.

Your first day of shooting you were swept away by the glamor of Hollywood magic and several coffees from the crafty table as you were dressed, pressed, and sparkled. Your first role was to sit in a chair and read a book. it didn’t help that you were nervous as it was going to be a long day with multiple scenes. You were in the lobby with a prop suitcase and dressed in a simple dark but stylish outfit as required for your role and making sure you didn’t stand out from the star of the film.

When the director called action and sound was rolling did your heart hammer in your chest, in walked Keanu Reeves in full character and you did everything in power to do as you were told, yet you didn’t stop yourself from stealing a small glance or two.

You were surprised you were allowed to do so but since it was the scene where the famous hitman returned after five long years it went unnoticed, well almost unnoticed. Despite his lines with his costar you could feel someone staring and when you looked up from your book did you see Keanu Reeves staring directly at you, with what appeared to be a saddened expression. Your face was red as you did your best to ignore whatever was going on and stay professional, but your inner fangirl was screaming.

You went through the second scene a few days later and while in the crowd of the dimly lit bar you were chatting with an extra as you were all told to “chat and mingle” to seem realistic. This time Keanu had passed by you with the camera following as he went though his blocking and he once again looked at you with a very intense stare.

You assumed he was just in character, and for the few moments you had for the first two movies were small did they leave some sort of impact on the fans.

Each scene Keanu had passed you or looked your way fans picked up on that and immediately speculated theories and who your character was to the famous Baba Yaga. This prompted the writers to get you a smaller part in the third movie, which meant your two measly scenes of standing and sitting meant a fully fleshed out character and it meant interacting with Keanu Reeves.

You spent the next week freaking out and jumping up and down excited and giddy. You were so focused on your career that you put the thought of meeting your celebrity crush on the back burner.

John Wick 3 was in full swing and you were now near thirty. Almost a full decade had passed since you were first cast and the franchise held a special place in your heart and almost seemed like a second home. You had garnered a few more small roles in local tv shows and and even a few episodes of Euphoria. You recently got a small part in a horror movie filming later on that year as it dragged in production hell but right now you were starting your first major role, even if it was a small part.

You were an assassin given the nickname Barbie who was notorious for costumes and makeup being able to disguise yourself as anyone and anything - within human limits. Your character, despite knowing the risks helped John Wick escape certain peril and ends up crashing with your character while you tend to his wounds and help him escape, unfortunately, this comes at the cost of Barbie’s life as she is supposed to be gunned down.

Yet two weeks before filming you were given a new script, you could tell the director and producer were having a time, whatever was going on they were exhausted and both upset.

“Here’s your new call sheet and script, ignore scene 3 page 9 line 52 please I havent had time to print it.” The assistant was clearly just as exhausted and it made you worry.

“You doing okay?” You ask taking a drink from your water and he shakes his head.

“Cast and Crew shouldn’t be doing each other’s job babe.” The assistant had been an industry staple for decades.

“Who’s making changes?” You ask and he looks around as if a ghost was near while he fiddled with your script.

“America’s sweetheart Reeves, he’s very adamant on some changes. But you didn’t hear shit from me.” He said, “Gus! Where the hell are those apple boxes?!” He turned and stormed off just as Keanu entered the room with the director and cinematographer. You immediately felt small and insecure as you stood with three very powerful men.

You spent a good hour going over lines, body language and what went where. Finally the crew was in place and your start to a career as an actor was just beginning...

“And action.” The director called and you swallowed.

“Thanks for helping me back there.” Keanu, now in character stated quietly. “But you shouldn’t have done that.”

The fake blood looked real as you were bent over a shirtless Keanu stitching up his wound. The art department did a good job as it all looked real.

“Yeah well, you helped me out a time or two, who knew that mob king was into costume design?” You say in character. Both of you continued to go through the scene, his dark eyes never leaving your form.

He sat up and when you turned you two were face to face, you knew his character was deeply devoted to Helen and you knew that in the second movie it was hinted that he had some sort of arrangement with Gianna but never was it mentioned that John Wick had a soft spot for Barbie.

“You’re young and new.” His dark eyes studied you and you were sure those words had another deeper meaning that only he would know.

“Are you saying I’m not now?” You smack his shoulder earning a wince from him as you hit the fake wound.

“Not what I meant Barbie.” He grunted as you profusely apologized.

“You could die for this.” He said, still as close to you as he dared. You could tell by the small movements his hands made, the way his eyes only focused on you, how he spoke, it was softer and gentle.

You wondered if his character was just being kind to a young girl trapped in a dark world like he was but those fan theories you read late in the night didn’t quell your curiosity as you rewatched both movies picking up on his change. You had limited contact with this guy and were an anomaly to his stoic persona for some reason.

“I’m used to being elusive, old man.” You twirl a lock of blond hair and he tilted his head only slightly with a smile.

“Yeah.”

You both got through the scene before having to go to hair and makeup for the fake blood, this was the part you were going to be taken out and your character despite how small she was you found yourself grieving a bit for her. Barbie had a fully fleshed-out story, life and history that the writers created and you added on. You were surprised at how invested they were for even a minor character.

You got done with wardrobe and headed to set when the lights went out. The stage was quiet and you saw flashlights and a generator kick on the storm lights.

You heard the director yell about a power outage as crew rushed around trying to figure out a solution fast. As you walked in the dark with your phone as a light someone grabbed your arm.

“Are you alright?” You heard the soft voice of Keanu Reeves as he reached out to grab you.

“Jesus you scared me!” Your heart pounding in your chest.

“Sorry about that, just didn’t want you trip over some wires.” You noticed a small bundle of cables on the floor and were surprised they were just out in the open until you realized you were in a crew area and wandered too far in the dark.

“Come on let’s get you somewhere wire free.” He joked as he led you toward a dressing room. It was empty save for a few costumes and scripts. It was eerie being a semi dark room and then seeing your reflection, the makeup team did an outstanding job with the fake blood and it didn’t feel sticky or gross, but you sweating did ruin a bit of the carefully applied spatter.

“Mr. Reeves why did you bring me here?” This was roughly the first time you two were talking, outside of the normal greeting and asking if you were okay did you find yourself alone with him.

“Just wanted you safe is all.”

“I think I’ll be okay from a few cables and the lights should be on soon.” You reply with a smile and he tilted his head, a little too much like John Wick.

“It might be awhile.” He stated, you swore you saw a change in his facial expression and you chalked it up to his years of experience.

“Is this a normal occurrence?” You asked fidgeting with the costume ring you were wearing.

“Not like this, this gives me enough time.” He stated so casually and you looked up a bit surprised.

“Please tell me you’re joking?” You had hoped with how he was acting but you had realized you never met the Keanu Reeves the internet gushed over, the sweet bass playing single man who loved dogs and motorcycles.

This Keanu was a little different. A little too much like his smart and skilled character.

“You take method acting a little too far.” You said, attempting as a joke but more in a bit of fear.

“Oh?” He put his hands in his pockets and there was a realization that maybe you weren’t talking to a sane person.

“Yeah, you seem a little too invested in this character.” You state, “Have you thought of maybe not being John Wick for a few minutes?"

The man before you studied you with an intensity you had only seen on a screen, the same intensity John Wick only had. He stood and grabbed you by the arm and yanked you close to him. You gasped and cried out in protest but his hardened gaze silenced you.

“I didn’t get this far to watch you die again.” He said.

“Die again?” You were still trying to process his actions and if he had anything to do with the power outage.

“I’m not letting this universe dictate my life and I’m sure as hell not letting you go.” He used his jacket sleeve to wipe away the fake blood and crush be dammed your costar was nuts.

“I don’t think so.” You try to pull away, “Listen I have no idea what the hell you’re going on about with your other universe bullshit but people will notice we’re missing and -“ Before you could finish your sentence a rag was shoved in your face and you soon collapsed against your costar.

Once the power was back on the crew spent the remainder of the day looking for you as a very confused Keanu Reeves was found in a locked room. He couldn’t say exactly who locked him in there only that he was sure the person looked a bit too much like his own reflection...

#keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #john wick x reader #John wick 3 #John wick x you #keanu Reeves x you #keanuverse #loved by Valentina #listen #john wick x y/n #John wick fanfic #John wick imagine

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vampireloverz · 2 years ago

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dancing with the devil

pairing: john wick x fem! reader

words: 2.5k

cw/tw: established relationship, age gap (vague but implied, more than a decade), size difference, reader wears a dress and heels, reader and john drink alcohol, public fingering, unprotected sex, au where reader basically takes helen's place, reader knows about john’s previous job, pre canon

You don’t know how you convinced John to go out dancing after dinner, maybe it was the bourbon that loosened him up, maybe it was the trail of kisses you left along his throat as you waited for a taxi. Either way, when the driver asked where to, John had said the name of some club nearby and you’d kissed him as a thank you.

Before long, you’re dancing to garish techno music, drink in hand. Bass rattling in your chest and your heartbeat in your throat as you sway and bob to the booming rhythm, all the while John keeps an eye on you from his seat at the bar. The neon lights strobing above occasionally illuminate him, drawing your focus to him past the throng of club goers every so often.

A few people come up and dance with you; a pretty woman with dark lipstick and a wicked smile, someone wearing a shimmery top you like so much you make the effort to all but scream over the music to ask where they got it, a man who offers you one of his glow-stick bracelets with such drunken enthusiasm you have to accept, laughing.

Eventually jumping in place and bobbing your head to the beat has sobered you up a little, but you’re still pleasantly warm and fuzzy around the edges, smiling as you head back to John. He reaches for you as you approach and you take his hand, squeezing it as a silent thank you for indulging you and waiting so patiently while you had your fun.

“Hello, handsome,” you lean in so close your lips brush his ear as you greet him, “Care to buy me a drink?”

You pull back in time to watch his lips tick up almost imperceptibly as he nods, signaling the bartender over and ordering your drink of choice. You kiss John’s cheek as a thank you and sit on the stool beside him, his heavy hand finding its place on your thigh, curving around you easily. The drink goes down smooth as you curl your free arm around his, suddenly giddy with happiness.

John turns your face to his with two fingers on the side of your chin, saying something you can’t quite hear but you can read his lips. You’re beautiful.

You let out a breathy little laugh that’s swallowed up by the music, heat rising to your cheeks as if it's the first time he’s ever complimented you. But you can’t help it, you cling to every carefully chosen word that falls from his lips.

“Thank you,” you don’t bother projecting, he knows, and he leans forward to kiss you.

The flavor of bourbon is still strong on his tongue but you don’t mind the sting. His hand on your waist reminds you of the same sensation earlier today. Both of you tangled in his expensive sheets, the sun hitting his face just right to light up his dark eyes into rich brown, his lips leaving kisses further and further down your body…

You break the kiss to press your cheek against his, “Wanna get out of here?”

John pulls back and gives you a look, almost amused, and you laugh as you watch the cogs turn in his mind. He takes a long, thoughtful sip of his drink, emptying the glass and setting it down along with enough bills to pay for your drinks and then some. A thrill of excitement runs through you as you hop down from the barstool and John takes your hand.

The crowd is dense but they seem to instinctively part for you two, a sea of drunken dancing split by nothing more than John Wick’s presence.

John rounds a corner out of nowhere right as you spot the exit, turning into somewhere quieter where the pounding bass turns into a pleasant thrum. You stumble into his back, disoriented by the sudden stop, but before you can question him, he spins, crowding you against the wall and kissing you. He kisses you with a surprising ferocity, a hot, hard press of lips with a small slip of tongue before he moves downward, kissing along the column of your neck as he palms your chest over your dress.

“John, what are you—?”

His hand is suddenly on your mouth, his palm to your lips as he orders, “Quiet,” as if anyone would hear.

Being cornered by John Wick sends a thrill down your spine, you suddenly feel high on adrenaline, and you know that this is only a minute fraction of what the people he dealt with at work feel. Felt.

It’s not often you’re reminded he was out killing scores of people when you’d barely started high school. It’s a callus on his palm from gripping a gun, it’s old scars from blades and bullets, it’s the tattoos. The knowledge of it all, his strength, his age, makes this feel dangerous. Despite his past, maybe even because of it, you trust him. He’s never turned his deadly hands to you beyond giving you pleasure.

You purse your lips to kiss his palm and his eyes soften just a touch, his hand pulling back to trace your mouth with his thumb. You kiss the pad of it, both your eyes locked as you part your lips, pink tongue barely peeking over your bottom lip.

John lets out a small laugh as he feeds his thumb into your mouth, gently pressing down to feel the grooves of your teeth, the soft give of your tongue, “Don’t be too loud,” he whispers as his other hand pushes up your dress.

You squirm when he cups your pussy, deft fingers tracing the line of your slit over the fabric before he slips his hand into your underwear. The warmth of his fingers as he slides them between your folds makes you gasp. John never takes long to find your clit, he’s always been impatient when it comes to your pleasure.

“You’re wet,” he comments, a little breathy and pleased.

“It's your fault,” you whine around his thumb.

Both of you make a pleased noise when he slides two fingers inside you, slow enough to have you squirming with impatience. John relents easily, pumping into you a few times to find his rhythm of slow, steady pulses before curling his fingers just the way you like it, the way you always beg for, you have to hold your breath to stop an indecent noise from flying out of your mouth.

The laughs of some people passing by suddenly makes you remember you’re not alone. In fact, the two of you are quite exposed if someone takes a turn into the half-hidden halfway John had slipped you into. You gasp and lift your head to look at him, ignoring the fact that you feel yourself tighten up. John maintains eye contact as the voices draw closer and you blink, alarmed and aroused all at once. He stops pumping his fingers and you watch him make a decision. His fingers stay inside you, curled against the sensitive spot there as he presses the heel of his palm into your clit, giving you a single nod as you grind down into him.

“Yea,” he grunts, “That’s it.”

He takes his finger out of your mouth to cradle your head and press closer to you, hiding and muffling you as best he can as you shudder and press your face into his collar, moaning into it and breathing in his spiced cologne. The voices pass, leaving you both in semi silence and false seclusion. Your knees buckle, adrenaline making it feel all the more intense when your orgasm slices through you, shuddering and panting open-mouthed with your lips pressed onto whatever expensive fabric his suit is made of.

He murmurs something you can’t quite catch over the ringing in your ears before he pulls out of your still throbbing pussy, circling your clit a few times with soaked fingers until you whine. The loss of his fingers makes you feel impossibly empty but watching him lick his fingers clean of you is a fair consolation. He lets out a small laugh at the expression on your face but you can tell he’s got it bad too. You’re half sure that if no one had walked by he would’ve fucked you here, or at least could’ve been persuaded to in the club’s bathroom.

“Let's go home,” John says, leaning down to kiss you. His dark hair falling around both your faces gives the illusion of privacy as you taste yourself on his tongue.

The look he gives you when you palm him over his pants makes you sure that you can get away with fooling around in the back of the cab ride back to your shared apartment. A new song starts in the club as the two of you leave and it feels like heavy bass pours onto the street, sticking in your chest until your cab is hailed and you both slip inside.

It’s late and traffic is to be expected, but you don’t mind because you can curl into John’s side and have your fun. He lets out a soft hum and drapes an arm around your waist, his hand around you tightening when you begin to loosen his tie. You play innocent at first, trailing your fingers along the column of his neck and down his chest, kissing his jaw when he shoots you a curious look. The cab jumps on an uneven patch of the road and your hand slips further down, past his belt until you’re palming him over his dark pants.

You press a kiss to his neck when he stiffens, his strong hand tightening around your waist. A warning but not a sign to stop. His free hand curls into a fist as you trace the outline of his cock, rubbing your palm back and forth until he groans, low and deep enough for a car horn somewhere outside to drown the sound out.

John leans into you and utters a single word into your hairline, “Behave.”

Firm but not angry, far from it. You can’t help the smile that spreads on your face, but you obey and move your hand away, placing it onto a more appropriate position on your thigh until your ride is over.

John’s hand is a heavy comfort on the back of your neck as you walk into your building, at this hour you’re the only people in the lobby besides the doorman. The elevator ride up is mercifully quick and it feels like it only takes a blink for you and John to be stumbling into the bedroom, neither of you willing to break the kiss.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, scratching at his scalp when he slides his tongue along yours. He pulls away panting and presses his forehead to yours, both of you breathing each other’s air. One of his hands follows the shape of your body upwards until he can touch your chest, “You don’t know what you do to me.”

You let out a mix of a laugh and a moan as he pulls down the front of your dress, “I have some idea.”

John smiles against your lips as you kiss and he takes your tits in hand, holding the weight of them and squeezing gently. You sigh into his mouth when a callus scrapes your nipple, hardening it with each pass of his palm.

“John,” you moan, shifting in place as the throb in your clit becomes insistent.

He hums thoughtfully, “Turn around.”

You do without question, looking over your shoulder as he kneels behind you, his hands steady on your hips. When you feel his lips on the back of your knee, you jolt a little, his beard lightly scratching at the sensitive skin there, but you’re more prepared when he kisses your other leg. John follows the curves and lines of your legs with his hands first, kissing your skin every few inches and only stopping when he reaches the hem of your dress. When he stands and touches your shoulder blade you think he’s going to unzip you, but instead he pushes you forward onto the bed, bending you over as he bunches and pulls your dress up over your hips.

“John!” you gasp, a short laugh bursting from your lips.

“What?” he asks like he’s not peeling your underwear down until it drops around your ankles.

You make a noncommittal noise and wiggle your hips, the emptiness in your core beginning to become almost unbearable.

“You’re beautiful,” you can’t tell if it’s because of your heels, your dress bunched around your hips, or just the way your ass looks when you’re bent over— but you decide you don’t care when you feel his cock glide through your folds, gathering your slick and nudging your clit, “Fuck, look at you.”

“Please, John,” you plea softly, “Fuck me.”

That punches a groan out of him, you feel the head of his cock push inside as he takes your hand. He slides himself to the hilt inside you in one slick thrust and it knocks the wind from you both.

He sucks in a breath behind you and grips your hip with his free hand, his grasp firm as he starts to fuck you. John fucks into you deep and hard, rutting into you as pleasure washes over you both. You feel involuntary noises spilling from your mouth but you can’t think to stop yourself as you lose yourself in the rhythm of his thrusts.

“I love you,” he grunts, fingers tightening on your hip as he goes rigid, his cock kicking inside you.

You groan into the pillows when you feel the hot spill of cum fill you, twitching every time his hips roll forward and his cock knocks against something tender inside you. It feels like forever before he finally slides out. You both give twin groans at the feeling, but you’re placated by his kisses along your shoulders. You drop your weight onto the bed, ignoring the way John laughs under his breath, and mumble something in half hearted protest as he starts to unzip and slide your dress off you, unclasping your bra and slipping your heels off your feet before he lays in the space beside you.

“Let’s clean up,” he suggests, reaching for you as you shimmy closer to him.

“In a minute.”

Resting in the easy silence, John traces your hairline and you feel the mess between your legs spill onto your inner thighs, hot and sticky and satisfying. You sling your arm over him, slowly unbuttoning his shirt with uncoordinated fingers so you can feel him. Your fingertips follow old scars until your eyelids droop and you rest your hand on him, the beat of his heart comfortingly steady beneath your palm.

“We should go out dancing more often,” you sleepily murmur.

John kisses the top of your head, “Whatever you want.”

#john wick x reader #john wick smut #📝 — john wick #💒.txt

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