#john wick drabble

[97keanu]

desperately wanting john wick to whisper filthy things to me in russian

*˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳I love this idea nonnie ! I have decided to do a list of phrases I've found + what scenario John would say them to you, disclaimer: I do not speak Russian, but I've tried to go beyond using just Google translate and the like, but there still may be discrepancies, please forgive ʚ♥︎ɞ

Tags/CW: rope bunny, Dom!JW, Sub!Reader, bratty!reader, bdsm-esque, reader tries to Dom JW, reader on top, teasing, denial, dirty talk.

Зайка моя ("My bunny"): John calls you this the most, he loves the idea of you being his little bunny, and he also likes that he can get away with calling you something so cute because you have no idea at first what he's saying. Light teasing from you when you find out he's been calling you his "bunny" for so long:

"Oh, so if I'm your little bunny, does that make you the big bad wolf?" You say with a smile, teasing John for his pet name for you.

"Oh yes, yes it does..." John plays along, moving close enough to you that he grab you from behind and pull you close.

"Don't forget that wolves bite, Зайка моя..." His teeth nibble at your neck before dragging you, who's giggling from all the attention, off to the bedroom.

мое солнышко ("My sunshine"): John calls you this after sex the most, or only in the most tender of cases. He really does believe you are his own personal ball of sun. He hasn't felt this happy in so long, and upon meeting you, he knows that you are the light in his life. John doesn't mind if you know it, either. He calls you his sun in English as well, but when you two are cuddled up, the night settling in, John will sleepily call you "мое солнышко".

моя принцесса ("My princess"): John uses this one almost exclusively when you're being a brat, typically in bed. He calls you this half sarcastically, half because he really will do anything to please you.

"What are you going to do, make me, John?" You tease him when he tries to command you. You really shouldn't have done that.

"Careful, моя принцесса, you know what happens when you tease me." Johns voice is trying to be gruff, but he also loves seeing you have fun. Only after a few more bratty comments does he finally show his princess how she really needs to be treated.

шлюха ("whore") / шлюшка(diminutive "little whore"): John uses this one often, forgetting himself while he's fucking you. You know this one too well, and when he says it, you love how degrading it sounds. He tells you most while he holds the back of your head roughly down on his cock how much you look like a "шлюшка" to him. He eventually teaches you how to say it as well:

"I won't let you cum until you tell me what you are..." John has his hands skillfully playing with your pussy while you're all tied up in a little bow for him on the bed. You know what he wants, but don't want to give in. His hands move just perfectly so you get so close, but stop just before then. Your moans echo through the room.

"I'll wait, we can play this game forever, love." John knows you know this to be true, he works his big hands inside you harder now, and you can barely sputter the phrase out.

"Yes, please! I'm your шлюха, your шлюшка!" You cry out as John finishes you, your body writhing in it's restraints. John looks so pleased with you for saying it correctly.

"Good girl." He says as he begins to help you calm down.

Для меня ты ведешь себя как маленькая шлюха ("You're acting like such a little whore for me." Literally: "To me, you are acting like a little whore.")

John says this when you're particularly submissive to him. Sometimes you're a bit of a brat who wants to act like she doesn't love being John's little rope bunny, but now you're practically begging him to fuck you. You're riding his thigh, he's fully clothed but you've taken your panties off from under your dress and are making such a mess of his nice dress pants. He watches you, never revealing whether or not he will be the one to please you tonight.

"Для меня ты ведешь себя как маленькая шлюха..." He says while rolling his eyes, taking a sip of his drink and watching as you desperately try to get off on his thigh. He finally caves and puts his glass down on the side table, lifting you up and taking you to the couch where he can properly fuck you.

я хочу быть сверху("I want to be on top."):

You spend some time searching up the perfect way to tell John that you want to be on top tonight. You know he will be coming home from a long day and want to do something to please him. The brat in you also knows that John will be thrilled at you attempting "superiority" over him. When John finally gets home, he is immediately taking off his suit, ignoring how dirty and blood stained it is. He grabs you as soon as he sees you, pulling you to the nearest surface he can to fuck you, which happens to be the couch. As John's devouring your body in kisses, you say it.

"я хочу быть сверху..." You whisper and John pauses, looking at you in disbelief for a moment. First, he is impressed by how well you said the phrase, then his eyes darken with a hint of mischief.

"So you want to be on top..." He says slyly, licking his lips like a hungry wolf. "So be it, let me see how well you think you can dominate me."

"You mean it?" Your eyes light up, half of you didn't expect him to agree.

"On one condition, if you fail to fuck me correctly, I will tie you up and show you how it's done..." His voice is deep and husky with desire, and you know he's setting you up, but the idea of him tying you up later doesn't sound like a bad thing, not really. You nod and begin placing yourself on top, slowly easing up there.

You hold his cock still as you softly let it enter you, and John already has a wicked gleam in his eyes. You keep going, placing your hands on his chest and trying to ride him as if you're the one dominating him, but even at your best on top you're still submitting to his cock. John grabs his tie from the floor and you already know what he is going to do, so you place your hands out in front of you. He ties your hands up, then takes your hips and fucks you from underneath so hard the neighbors can hear it. You realise you can never dominate him, but that doesn't stop you from asking to be on top from time to time after this.

Я ХОЧУ ТЕБЯ ВНУТРИ МЕНЯ("I want you inside me.")

You learn another phrase, this one more your style. John is teasing you once more, his cock hard and slipping through your wet folds, but never entering you. You're whining, grinding your hips and bucking to try to invite him in, but your arms are all tied up behind you. He has your breasts tied as well, bringing them to perfect roundness. John reaches out and plays with your nipples, plucking at them and pulling just how you like, still not letting you feel the fullness of his cock. You are at your breaking point when you remember the phrase.

"Я ХОЧУ ТЕБЯ ВНУТРИ МЕНЯ...!" You finally moan, your back arching and your toes curling from how badly you want it. John pauses and smiles.

"Oh, you're such a good girl for asking like that." he says, before plunging his cock deep inside you, giving you what you want. You breathe out, finally able to be fucked hard like you wanted.

[sweetwolfcupcake]

Secrets We Keep

Secret Garden

Category: Drabble

John Wick X Reader

Warning: Allusions (and mentions) to murder, subtle yandere traits and threats, intimidation.

Unedited

It was late, but sleep was the last thing on her mind. She simply laid on the bed, starring at the ceiling above, letting flashbacks and thoughts consume her while her wristwatch on the nightstand ticked.

A gift.

She wished she could cry this out but she felt heavy. Heavy and—-

The doorbell rang and her breathing stopped. She waited, holding her breath for a few moments.

The ringing of her doorbell invaded the otherwise quiet apartment once more. She sighed, feeling the echoes of her thumping heartbeat.

The doorbell rang again, accompanied by knocking this time. 

Letting out a shuddering breath, she jumped out of her bed and grabbed her housecoat, slipping in it as she padded towards the door. Looking through the peephole, she shut her eyes and sighed. 

She saw this coming.

Putting the chain-link on, she unlocked the door, allowing the light from the building corridor to flood in from the tiny gap.

“Hello (Y/N).” He stood tall, dark eyes staring down at her from the gap “I’m here just to talk.” 

His voice gave away nothing. Always quiet, polite and to the point. But she could not trust that now– could not trust him anymore– now that she knew.

“John, I saw nothing—”

“There won’t be a chain-link holding your door then.” He cut her off, only to sigh and soften his voice “I promise I just want to talk.”

“How do I trust that?” She felt bile rising to her throat as she spoke, struggling to keep her voice steady.

John leaned closer, making her flinch step away.

“Because if I wanted anything other than to just talk,  this chain-link or door, or any door, can do nothing to stop me.” His tone did not change, nor did his voice raise.

He was calm as ever and she knew that there was no lie in his words. Feeling cornered and stripped of any other option, she unlocked the chain-link, letting the tiny but sturdy chain hang against the door as it opened wide in a smooth motion.

John stepped into her home in silence before gently closing the door shut. Her hold on her phone tightened instinctively. Although it was in her pocket, she prayed that he took no notice of that.

He loomed over her, dressed like any other man she would pass by. A plain white shirt, a pair of denims and a leather jacket. No one could picture him killing a man with a pencil. But she saw him do that two nights ago, and it would never be the same between them.

She had spent the last two days, terrified and paranoid. It was only a matter of time before he came for her, and there he stood, looming over her– the grim reaper dressed as a civilian. But even if his deep, brooding eyes pinned her down without giving away an ounce of his thoughts, she could at least try to evade her demise.

“John, I will forget everything I saw. I promise, I will not report you, not spill anything about it—”

“It doesn’t matter.” 

She flinched when he switched on the lights, illuminating the room. Under the light, she realised, he looked slightly less ominous. More human. His eyes remained brooding but she thought she saw it soften slightly. 

No, it had to be the lighting.

He sighed, looking away for a moment before meeting her eyes again. “I did not want you to find out like this.” 

No, if he could, she would have never found out what he did for a living.

“But now that you know, I want to come clean. So that we can start anew.”

(Y/N) gulped. Starting anew was out of question. After whatever she had witnessed, she wanted to do nothing with John, no matter how much it would pain her. Maybe love was not for her. 

“John…I thought it wasan understood fact that…” she trailed of, licking her lips as a frown settled on his face.

“What?”

“That—you know after what I saw and—I don’t think we shouldseeeachotheragain.” she hurried through words, scrambled through thoughts all the while trying not to shake under his gaze.

He sligthlty titled his head. His eyes gleamed under the lighting in a way that distinctly reminded her of the carnage he was capable of. 

“No.”

There was no question mark, or even uncertainty. He was declaring, not questioning. And that made her hold tighten over her phone.

“John I—”

“I know you’re scared right now.” he contemplated aloud “I understand. But we are still, very much one–together.” His voice lowered, but there was a sharpness to it.

Like he was waiting. Waiting to pounce.

She gulped, feeling beads of sweat appearing on her nose and above her lips. She waited with bated breath. But he only gazed down at her for a long moment, until she looked away, unable to look into his eyes any longer. The longer she looked, the more it remind her of…of the night.

“I will get going for now. Get some rest, Love.” He spoke after a long, tense pause.

And for the first time since his visit she felt she could breath in relief. She heard the sound of opening of her apartment door–

“I will see you tomorrow, at the cafe around the corner.” he declared, making her look at him.

He was clearly not done with her.

“Also…There is no use of calling the police. It won’t make any difference.” His gaze dropped to her pocket where she held the phone.

Her throat was suddenly parched as she met his unreadable gaze before he gently shut the door behind him.

*****

So, what do you think?

[sunnythebunny7]

So this is me guys (that’s the doll my mom says I look like and don’t judge bc I know I’m red I have rosacea and I have small freckles that if u zoom in u can see and I’m actually curious to see which Keanu character I go best with heheh)

[feinv]

Hi, I am the anon who sent you soft yandere wick requests and let me tell you what an excellent job you have done with it. If you are open to it, can we have more drabbles on him? Anything that comes to your mind.

lil random headcanons for my silly guy.

soft yandere!john wick. mentions of gun/knife kink.

— let’s say you got back with him after this.

ᯓ he knows you are not going to leave him again, but he can’t shake off the paranoia, so you would often feel his hangs holding you a little too tight in his sleep. even when you are just shifting positions or getting up to go to bathroom in the middle of the night, his fingers are literally digging into your flesh and keeping you in place, close to him.

ᯓ when you are telling him some stories from the time you left him, he would mention some details on his own.

“how do you know about that?”

“you told me this before,” but like. you didn’t. you are not dumb and you know if he is able to kill people, a little stalking isn’t far on the list. yet, you don’t want to believe he is actually that insane.

ᯓ you will be so scared to tell him about random old man who was rude to you at the store.

“what did he look like?” and he is so intimidating at the moment, ready to tear someone apart.

“i don’t remember, john.” you do. and you also know that he will probably end up doing something stupid.

ᯓ he knows that despite being with him, you still don’t approve what he does. he won’t ever talk about that taboo topic with you, avoiding it at any cost. and when he comes back home soaked in blood, he will mutter a single “hello,” before heading straight to the bathroom until he looks presentable.

ᯓ will never ask you to help with it, but if you insist on cleaning his wounds, it will just be done in silence, neither of you risking to speak up.

ᯓ canon accurate john wouldn’t, but i think this one will absolutely be into gun and knife kink. (will use his gun on you like i wrote here.)

ᯓ the idea is to show you that the things he uses for killing others would bring nothing but pleasure to you. he wants you to trust him completely, while actually staining you with darkness :)

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Sweetheart John Wick ♡ ♡ ♡

Everyone’s screaming, Winston is on a table with a broom stick, Charon runs in with his pistol cocked, employees are huddled under the bar.

Enter John Wick, Death’s Very Emissary, highly confused, looking around at all the guests ducking under tables and swinging katanas in the air.

In the corner of the high ceiling, a tiny, terrified bat cowers, wondering where the hell it is and how it got here.

John motherfucking Wick just sighs, asks for a ladder, wraps his suit jacket around his palms, gently cages the little furry guy in fabric, and then escorts him outside where he can fly off into the sunset, free and safe.

Bonus Content: Winston, brushing off his suit, getting down from the table and mumbling about how John has probably just unleashed the rabies virus on the citizens of New York.

[realitidoll]

hi girlie, i was thinking about au bf john wick working out w cute oversized headphones like 🏋🏻‍♂️🎧☺️ and during s*x with the reader he likes to blind fold the reader and have her wear the huge bulky headphones 🤍🤍

Ughhh yess!!

-‘๑’-

You’re just working out and listening to music not aware John’s eye fucking you from the other side of the room. He just thought you looked so tiny in the headphones he bought you a while ago ( he deffo has a size kinkk btwww!!! ) he would love depriving you of all your senses during sex! He’d tie your hands together behind your back, put a blindfold on you, gag you then make you wear those oversized headphones just so you could appear all tiny to him while he’s ramming his cock inside you :(( you couldn’t really feel or hear anything which only made the sex much better to you

[thewhumpcaretaker]

Henloooo :D

I think I read that one of your favorite prompts is whump character passing out... SO >:)

Santino passing out, for whatever reason, it could be from an injury, panic attack- anything. What do you think? What happened that he passed out? And was John there when it happened or he found him? What does John do in that situation?

Again, I'm making them suffer 😞 (but they still get comfort in return so it's okay)

I’ve been soooo exited to answer this prompt!!! It’s really sweet that you found a topic I like and asked about that. I could talk about passing out all day haha! 🖤

There are so many possibilities with this, but I decided to write about one that’s a favorite for both of us I think: Santino working himself to exhaustion. He passes out because he’s sleepless and dehydrated. Poor Santino!!!!! But John will help him, don’t worry!

TW: not eating or drinking, passing out

●・○・●・○・●

Santino had been worrying John all day. For three days, in fact. Ever since an arms deal overseas had gone bad, Santino had been focused on recovering a large shipment of Camorra assets being held in Germany. He paced on the phone all day and sat working plans and contracts at his desk all night, one hand occasionally ruffling his hair or smacking at his face to try to stay awake. The bags under his eyes, so prominent even under ordinary circumstances, were now puffy and dark. When John caressed his cheek, he sighed miserably and leaned into the touch, but quickly shook himself and told John he couldn’t be distracting him right now.

When he was asked what he wanted, he said coffee, and then, “go away.” John had managed to feed him a couple of times, but it wasn’t enough. He looked visibly weak, and trembled constantly. Something had to give. John was inwardly frenzied in anticipation of that. Outwardly though, his desperation to do something expressed itself as an incredible stillness. He became a statue frozen at Santino’s door, speaking only to turn people away if anyone tried to bother him.

In the late afternoon of that day, as rain came down on the windows of Santino’s study, someone approached the door who could not be turned away. A direct representative from Germany, “sent to speak with Mr. D’Antonio personally, and to no one else.”

Santino admitted him, and that meeting turned into another, held in the conference room, to review his demands with other Camorra members. John walked with him on the way, watching him buzz with nerves. He couldn’t speak to him, couldn’t even touch him in front of everyone, but he could see that their physical proximity meant something to Santino and that he walked close to him. He caught Santino’s eyes lingering on his hand, no doubt wishing they could hold hands as they walked. He must be getting really worn down by this point.

But there was nothing he could do for Santino while the meeting went forward, so he wandered away to the kitchens and got some food for himself. He had neglected to do that as well over the past day, and it felt good to finally sit down for a meal. But it couldn’t last for long. After a few minutes, a guard rushed into the kitchen. “Mr. D’Antonio isn’t well. Please come immediately.”

Adrenaline slammed into him and sent him running down the hall. Santino was already stumbling out of the room saying to another guard, “No, I’m fine, I’m fine, let’s just continue.” But he looked deathly pale and he was supporting himself against the wall, breathing heavily.

John’s voice cut through the commotion, calm but extremely firm. “There is a matter requiring his urgent attention. Santino, please come with me. Now.”

“…John…” Santino looked reluctant, but he couldn’t fight his need for rest and for John any longer. He took an unsteady step towards him, away from the wall. 

Seeing what was about to happen, the guards hurried to form a half circle around them, sheltering them from the eyes of the crime bosses gathered around the conference room doorway. Meanwhile, John reached out to catch his lover just before his knees buckled. He cradled one hand under Santino’s head to prevent it from hitting the tile and lifted him into his arms in a single motion. He felt almost dizzy himself with sympathy, and in his crazed protectiveness, Santino seemed to weigh nothing.

“Wait, what do we tell them?”

John stormed passed the other guards. “I don’t care. Get his sister here to handle it. Now get out of my way and call a doctor.”

He carried Santino straight to his bedroom and set his limp body onto the bed, elevating his legs on some pillows. He was already coming around.

“John? …What did you do?”

“I got you out of there. You need to lay down.”

“No, I can’t, it’s not working out! And if it doesn’t work out, we’ll lose the whole shipment! My family will be so furious with me, I have to make this work - “ He was completely breaking down so John sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled him into his arms. He gave in and hugged him back, tightly, clinging on for a long time.

“It doesn’t matter. You’re what matters. Please rest, okay? For me?”

Santino laughed weakly. “Do I have a choice?”

“I don’t think you’re well enough to go back out there. I’m sorry. Go to sleep. I’m getting a doctor here soon.”

Santino just looked off into the corner and huffed. “What a mess. I can’t believe I started collapsing in front of everyone.”

“All that matters is that you’re okay. And that you rest now.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but his eyelids were already drooping and he wanted so badly to just lay next to John and be held. For the rest of the day, after getting IV fluids to rehydrate him, Santino cuddled against John’s chest while the rain played softly on the windows. He let everything slip away and smiled in his sleep.

[fics-not-tragedies]

January 2024 Music Prompts: Day 8

For Your Love ♫ Måneskin

For Your Love ♫ Måneskin x John Wick

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ghcstpyre]

john wick x f!reader

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

word count: 1.4k

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good girl.”

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

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

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

“Mmm, that's it, thaaaat's it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was all the encouragement you needed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

divider by @/strangergraphics

[ruskaroma]

First time with John Wick plssssssssssssssssssss

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have I left you for too long?” 

“What?” You furrowed your brows, confused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So that gets you talking?”

“Because I’m not jealous.”

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

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

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

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

“So you are jealous?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m so excited–”

“I’m glad you find this amusing.”

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

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

“What?” You pouted, growing confused. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh god–”

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

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

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

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

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

[97keanu]

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. 

[sweetwolfcupcake]

Daisies

Secret Garden

Category: Drabble

John Wick x Reader

Unedited

“Do you like daisies?”

The question caught (Y/N) off guard. John asked her out of the blue one day. The peace near the pond was unmatched. At least to John, who seldom could taste peace and happiness.

 But sitting there with her was something more. Meant something more.

“I what?” She smiled, confused.

“Daisies. You like’em?”

“Yes, they are sweet, and they mean…” 

He produced a bouquet of daisies and freesia from his back before she could reach a conclusion.

“For me?” She looked up to meet his twinkling gaze, a ghost of a smile bloomed on his otherwise stoic face. 

He shifted in his seat and straightened up a bit.

“Yeah. You like them?”

John Wick was a man of few words but what he lacked in words, he showed in action. She smiled and took the bouquet into her arms, letting the flowers tickle her chin and neck.

“I think so.”

No, she did not like daisies.

She loved them, she decided as she leaned to kiss him.

----

[fernpetals]

In This House #3

Masterlist

Yandere John Wick x Reader The library in the house is a place of solace. Perhaps not as comforting as the room dedicated to your skills with the pen, but close. The second-best. The library, though, has no line drawn to keep John out. No corner of the house has it.

Your personal study used to be but since your last attempt, John has broken yet another promise. He gave you his word, the study would be your space and yours alone. He promised he wouldn't step foot in it if you didn't want him to. But the promise, a 'privilege' as he makes all his false promises seem, was taken away.

So, it does not really matter whether you are in the library, the study, or the bedroom, John can walk in anytime, anywhere he pleases. "What are you reading?"

Of course, he is here. Looming over to catch a glimpse of the story that has kept her occupied all evening. "The Yellow Wallpaper." You respond quietly.

He hums before languidly rounding over the couch and taking a seat.

"Do you feel trapped?"

You do not answer, just glance at him. His deep, dark eyes try to read you, rip off your veils, and your walls like he has always done.

"Who's fault is that?" He raises an eyebrow

You are surprised at the lack of flare in you. No anger, no surprise, or even frustration. You are finally accepting that he will never truly acknowledge that he has brought the two where you both are.

"Keep telling yourself that," You whisper to yourself.

You feel him stiffen beside you, you feel the weight of his gaze. The glare that promises consequences. But you are not bothered anymore. How worse can it get?

-----

The Reader's Cafe.

A typical name, for a typical place. Stuffed with books at every corner except the counter, behind which the magic of teas, coffees and mocktails happens, along with little snacks like sandwiches, cookies, pies, fresh buns and every other lovely thing that goes perfectly with the suggested drink in the menu, put right before the price.

You like tea along with cookies, and sometimes, simply the beverage. This place is convenient---blocks away from your home, warm, cosy ---though stuffy during summers sometimes, the cafe is your little bubble where you can read.

You are halfway through Blake's 'Songs of Innocence', casually looking up at the shelves surrounding you for the 'Songs of Experience'. Reading every twin poem by Blake has a thrill of its own,. 'The Lamb' and 'The Tyger', for instance.

"Sir, I'm sorry, but there are no pets allowed in the cafe."

"I understand, but, it will take only a minute, I will keep him leashed."

Usually, you do not care. Usually. But you have been distracted all day, and this conversation floats in with a 'woof' in between an you find yourself getting up and following the voices.

Right at the entrance is the same man you stumbled across weeks ago, and his adorable companion.

"How about this, you take back this book, lend me the one I want and fill in the records? I will leave him home when I return."

He is a soft-spoken man, with perhaps softer eyes. Sweet whirls of brown. Dark, brown, almost matching his black hair. The woman hesitates before asking-

"Which book it is?"

"Songs of Experience."

You perk up at that, taking a few more steps forward and catching his attention.

"Uh..."

Well, even though his eyes seem soft...there's still something that makes you squirm.

"Actually, I was looking for that too,"

You are by no means an orator. But the way you struggle to hold his gaze, makes you want to dig up a grave for yourself. He hasn't spoken yet and your throat is parched.

"This one? I just wanted to return it. And get a companion book."

"Songs of Innocence? I was reading it. Here."

You take a few more steps, reaching him and offering the book with your finger still between the pages. His adorable companion his tail furiously as you near him, woofing and trying to reach you. Perhaps he remembers you.

"Oh, no it's alright, I can get it sometime later."

"I've read this before. Please, insist. I was searching for the other anyway. In fact, I suggest that you keep this one too. The twin poems are best read together."

You stop yourself just short of rambling longer. He seems to be a quiet man, and you might be weirding him out. But smiles kindly.

"Then you should keep them." You shake your head, ready to refuse but he beats you to it.

"The next time I find myself here, we both can read the companion pieces."

You do not even realise it when you agree, but you end up going home with both books in your possession. You are going to the bookshop every evening, you decide. Every evening until he appears again.

[feinv]

what about john wick trying for a baby 👀

he would literally use every opportunity to strip you naked and make you see stars, going feral at the thought that he doesn’t have to pull out, he can stay inside, the closest your bodies can ever be, two molded in one.

expect him to fill you up over and over again, until you both are panting messes, bodies all sweaty and exhausted. but even then he wouldn’t pull out, always leaving his length inside your folds for another minute or so to not let a drop of his liquid leak out. his palms would 90% of the time be on your belly, trying to find any changes and swelling. and if he doesn’t, well it’s okay, you can always try again.

it’s not so much about his breeding kink as it is about the fact the he is building a family with you, that you allowed and chose him to be your partner and father of your kids. he just loves you, and he is forever lucky that you love him back ;)

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

somnophilia with John wick from the prompts? 👉🏽👈🏽

jw & fem reader

gif by the wonderful @scarlettspectra. TRIGGER WARNING(s) Somnophilia (from Latin somnus "sleep" and Greek φιλία, -philia "friendship") is a paraphilia in which an individual becomes sexually aroused by someone who is unconscious. & a bit of exhibitionism

You had waited for him all day. Flitting around the house, cleaning and cooking and making sure everything was in line for his arrival. Wearing his favorite dress, playing his favorite music on the stereo, chilling a fresh bottle of his favorite bourbon.

A month and a half. That’s how long it had been since you last saw the person  whose presence gave meaning to your life. So, naturally, you were brimming with excitement, heart pattering wild and strong in your chest, body giddy and jittery—unable to regulate haywire nerves. John was coming home. 

He wasn’t often gone for this long. It was an important job. Something involving a very, very rich man paying him to complete a very, very difficult task. Of course, you knew what his tasks usually included, but didn’t like to think about it too much—couldn’t think about it too much…

It was just hard to imagine…your John killing someone. The same John that took bugs outside instead of squashing them, who cleaned up his bar table and tipped more than generously, who always held the door open and returned shopping carts. Who was sweet and kind and treated you like you were made of paper-thin glass unless you specifically requested otherwise. 

The text comes in mid-evening, just as you’re putting his untouched dinner away and cleaning up the kitchen. Hey, dollbaby, my flight got delayed until tomorrow at six AM. I’m sorry. Don’t stay up worrying about me.

It’s disappointing, but you have to admit you’re used to this. It just comes with what he does, and you’ll gladly endure it with a smile for him. However, that doesn’t mean you can grant his request and stop yourself from worrying. With a little sigh, you type back: Okay, John. Love you.

I Love you, too.

You try and pass the time; go for a late swim, read a book, snuggle up on the big leather couch to scroll TV channels for movies. Except none of that works to distract you from John’s missing shadow, and you just end up with your head buried in a throw pillow, inhaling his residual scent and pretending the cushion is his chest.

You decide to invite some friends over for a good distraction, and they bring card games and beer and wine. You have your own stash of alcohol, so between you and three of you closest, you end up drinking a little too much and passing out halfway through game night. 

John finds you in the icy blue light of breaking dawn, breathing even and slow and slung haphazardly on top of your mattress. The residual burn of spirits heat your skin ruddy, and you have long since kicked the comforter off to leave yourself bare and unsuspecting of the hungry wolf who’s cock fattens at the sight of you—his big tshirt snuggling against your curves, the hint of a panty seam visible along the soft skin of your hip

He discards his clothes into a pile on the floor, too starved for flesh to care about being his usual tidy self, and climbs on the bed to run the tip of his tongue along that delicious cut crease of supple flesh.

You stir and whine, hand coming up momentarily to bat the tickly feeling away, only to weakly fall back down onto the bed, its task lost in the dark deep of your slumber. 

With a wicked grin, he moves his mouth down your thigh, licks into the seam behind your knee, then treks a wet path of kisses over your calves. You squirm and kick, trapped by heavy sleep, defenseless under his tongue.

He knows that, by now, you’d be begging him sweetly to make you cum, arching up into his teasing mouth for more, hanging on to his beautiful throw of silky hair as he laps at your panties. Always so impatient, his sweet girl. 

God, he missed you. Missed your smell and taste, the way you buck your hips, that little tender space between thigh and cunt that makes you squeal when he flicks it with his tongue. 

He nudges your panties to the side to reveal an already glistening wet and swollen pussy, your clit ripe and fresh, ready for his mouth to pluck and taste. Even in your sleep, you’re more than ready to sheath his cock.

He suckles at your folds gently while you stir awake with a sleepy little moan. “J-joh-jjj,” you slurr, gripping at the plump pillows while your cunt tenses and thighs attempt closing. 

So sensitive in that foggy place between sleep and wake, with his familiar mouth on you, impatient and insistent.

He holds your thighs open and eats—devours your cunt sloppily from the back, groaning about how good you taste and how much he missed it. “It’s okay, baby, no no no, come’ere, I gotcha. That’s my girl.” Two fingers curled inside, coaxing a fast approaching orgasm from your perfect little pussy. 

“Gonna, gonna-ah c-cum,” you tell him, clenching on his fingers, once shy clit now grinding down onto his tongue. You’ve just missed him so much, and it’s been so long, and you haven’t even touched yourself at his specific request, so it’s no surprise that it only takes seconds of cunnulingus just the way he’s learned you love it to have you soaking the sheets below your hips. 

“Good job,” he coos, bringing you down with little kisses to your puffy lips and chafed thighs, sucking his fingers clean and closing his eyes against the savory flavor of your slick. “You okay, babydoll?” 

“Uh huh,” you tell him, still twitching from the heavy orgasm, eyes threatening to close again, too tired to wipe the little bit of spittle off your chin. 

You feel him shift behind you, and then his thick tip press against your still spasming entrance, ready to overwhelm and overstimulate and leave you a babbling mess. His cock is built for your pleasure and demise, and as he enters, invading and pillaging the sensitive walls of your cunt, your eyes fly open and you sob into the pillow.

Something like, “o-oh fuck-“

“Shhh, baby.” His warm touch finds the base of your skull, that soft tug on your unkempt tangles guiding you back into his slow, deliberate thrusts. “Your friends are in the living room, gotta be quiet for me.” 

“Y-yeah Jo-ohn.” You try and tell him just how much you missed him, but the words jumble and stick, translating to half-muffled moans. Tears bead at your waterline in submission to that first stretch of his unfairly girthed cock. 

He understands your incoherent babbles perfectly. “Fuck,” he growls, tip kissing your cervix, “I missed you, too. Missed this tight little cunt.”

You have to bite down on your knuckles to keep the animalistic sounds of pleasure at bay, as he fucks you. So often, this beautiful man makes love to you, slow and soft. This is not one of those times. 

If you could think, it would be about how loud the sound of his hard pelvis clapping against your soft ass is, as he chases that otherwise unobtainable high that only your cunt can bring—that he thought about every single minute he was gone…the reason he’s alive.

You’re sobbing from it all—the way he splits you open so perfectly, the tiny dark whispers of reassurance, the fact that he’s alive and well and all over and around you; big hand pressing your lower back down for better and deeper access inside your cunt.

The way he just knows, even in his own rough desperation, how to unravel you—make you see the cosmos and beyond, into the soupy blackness of unexplored universe. 

“You coming again, baby?” He doesn’t have to ask, because he knows you are, more than familiar with the way you unfold and shatter. 

“Y-yeah-huh.”

He puts you on your back with practiced gentleness, and cups your sweaty cheeks in his hands before sucking your bite-swollen lower lip into his mouth, managing to stay buried inside you through the easy transition, swallowing your whimpers while his cock works out the final flutters of your orgasm. 

“Oh, John,” you say, when he stops licking at your throat to allow the both of you some much-needed, panting breath. “F-fuck, John.”

“I know, baby, I know,” he says, brushing the sweaty hair off your temples and pecking tiny wet kisses over your face. “I gotcha, it’s okay. Johnny’s here. Open your pretty eyes, let me see you.” 

In a deep, stuttering thrust, when you clamp like a vice around him, he loses himself inside of you, and you are with him. Utterly overtaken, love burning through your blood, body singing in rapturous heavenly choir. This is as close to the pearly gates you will ever get, you think, as you float down from the high. 

There is a cut on his temple that you failed to notice, and you touch just below. “You got hurt.” 

“I’m better, now.” 

With him nestled beside you, arms wrapping around and sheltering your body with his own, legs supporting your bottom and cock still softening inside your cunt, you feel sleep creep back up like an old friend.

It isn’t long before he’s succumbed to it, himself, happily snoozing nestled in your hair. You don’t know what he’s been through in that long stretch of absence, but it doesn’t matter now. 

He’s here with you, and that’s enough.

[thewhumpcaretaker]

Hello! Ciao! Pozdrav! Greeted you in three languages lmfaoo-

So, Santino having a nightmare >:]

What would the nightmare be about? Would it be about his traumas or something else? How would John comfort him, help him to calm down? Aahh so many possibilities with this but I'm curious on your opinions! :P

Have a lovely day! ✨️

Grazie! Merci! Thank you for this ask!

Hmmm, the nightmare could be about a lot of things. Trauma is definitely one of them, and the most likely. It could also be related to one of the phobias that you've talked about in the past - spiders make for some very scary nightmares! But I think I'll write about Santino having a nightmare over the fear of losing John. Maybe he dreams that John has died while trying to protect him.

Sorry this took a while! I decided to make this into another mini fic. It's very sad but hopefully sweet as well. I hope you enjoy! 💙

TW: nightmare, crying, discussion of self-sacrifice, slightly suggestive at the end ;)

John opened his eyes to see the darkness and the vague outlines of their bedroom, a fuzzy but familiar space tinted indigo by the night light on the far wall. Why had he woken up? It was certainly still far from sunrise.

It took him a moment to realize that he was hugging a pillow, not Santino. At some point during the night, Santino had rolled away from him and was facing the wall on the other side of the bed. John could see him twitching slightly and smiled, thinking of the way Dog kicked his feet in his sleep when dreaming about running.

But then he heard a small, whimpering sound, almost a sob. John's mind surged with protectiveness. Should he wake him up? He'd had another long day of work, and needed the sleep, but to leave him in distress was not an option. Holding his breath to keep quiet, he shifted closer, propping himself up on one elbow to get a better look. "Hey," he said softly, but Santino didn't awaken. He just stirred even more restlessly, letting out another shuddering breath that ended at a high pitch.

"John…"

Hearing his own name, John couldn't wait anymore. He put a hand firmly on Santino's shoulder and spoke louder, "Hey. Wake up, baby."

Santino gasped, and the gasping gave way to full-on sobbing as he curled into himself further, awake but still not fully aware. John wrapped his arm over Santino's shaking body and rolled him onto his back, leaning over him. "No, hey. It's okay. I'm here."

"You're…here?" Santino looked up at him in some kind of heartbreaking awe. "Grazie a Dio [thank god], I thought…"

"What?"

"I just…never mind, it's stupid. It was just a bad dream."

"Not stupid." John reached over to switch on the bedside lamp, hoping to chase away any more fear with some light. At that, Santino crossed his arms over this chest, trying to force his breathing back to normal.

"Really, it's fine."

John didn't force him to talk, just lay an arm across his body in a silent offer of comfort. After a stubborn few seconds, Santino unfolded his arms to embrace him, and the tears started again.

"I'm so glad you're alive, John. I dreamed…" he sighed heavily, the sound distorted by lungs still heavy with sadness. "I dreamed that the Camorra shot you. You were gone, and it was - it was my fault…"

John pulled him onto his chest, wrapping the blanket over both of them and holding him as close as possible. "I'm not going anywhere." His voice was a low, protective rumble into the top of Santino's head, and he followed it with a kiss. Santino was really this upset over the thought of his death? It twisted at his heart. "I'm too lucky, having a life with you. Anyone tries to take this away from me, they're dead."

Santino gave a choked laugh.

"I'm serious."

"I know. Just…don't give your life for mine, please. If it comes to that."

John went still. "I…can't promise you that. But I can promise that it wouldn't be your fault."

Santino huffed in frustration, but it was no use to argue. They had talked about this many times. John was there to protect him, and that was that. Even to the death, if need be. Frowning deeply, he ran his hands along John's neck and up to his cheek, as if still trying to convince himself that John was really here.

"Santino. I want to hear you say it. It wouldn't be your fault."

Santino didn't respond at first. "It…" another frustrated sigh. "It wouldn't be my fault. It would be the Camorra's fault, and I'd wipe out everyone who hurt you."

A deep laugh rolled out of John's chest, echoing up through Santino's ribcage. "Good." He kissed him again, on the lips this time.

"I was serious too."

"I know." He stared deeply into Santino's eyes, drinking in the fact that this man loved him enough to grieve for him, to kill for him. That they would each give their lives for the sake of the other. Santino's chin rested on his chest, and he met John's gaze with one that was equally loving.

John became very aware that their legs were tangled together under the blankets.

"Don't think about that anyway," he said. "We're together now. Let's enjoy it." And he switched the lamp back off.