#leg watches john wick

[rafeandonlyrafe]

can i hold it?

words: 2k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, piss kink!!!, getting peed on haha lol :), shower sex, p in v sex, unprotected sex

you whine as rafe tries to pull away from you, making him laugh and press a kiss to your cheek. “just going pee baby.”

“take me with you.” you raise your arms up.

“to the bathroom?” rafe questions, raising his eyebrow.

“yeah.” you nod. “you said we could spend all day together, if you’re leaving this bed then so am i.” “alright, suit yourself.” rafe shrugs, leaning down to pick you up bridal style, walking the short distance to the attached bathroom. he sets you down on the counter as you stretch, having been cuddling and kissing since you arrived at rafes house, not wanting to do anything else.

rafe walks over to the toilet, flipping the lid up. you watch with fascination as he pulls at the tie on his sweatpants, the string unraveling so he can push them and his underwear down before pulling out his cock.

“wait.” you interrupt rafe.

“what baby? i really gotta piss?” rafe asks with a sigh.

“can i hold it for you?” you ask, not able to keep the excitement from your voice. “you know, while you pee.” “sure.” rafe shrugs. “but hurry the fuck up, i’m about to burst.” rafe had stayed in bed as long as he possibly could as to not break your relaxed state, which only led to urgently needing to go.

you quickly hop off the counter. you gently grab rafes soft dick, having only touched him a few times when soft, and always with the intention of getting him hard quickly.

you aim towards the toilet bowl, gasping when rafe begins to pee. you watch in fascination, surprised how much you like the feeling in your hand, even a little saddened when he finishes.

“gotta shake it a little baby.” rafe instructs, making you look at him with confusion in your eyes, wondering if he was just wanting you to give him a handjob.

“to get the last few drops out.” rafe explains.

“oh.” you nod, turning back to look at his dick, shaking it a little as final drops of piss fling off his tip.

“perfect.” rafe smiles, taking his cock and tucking it back into his underwear. “thanks baby.” “you’re welcome.” you smile, knowing you need to recreate the experience again immediately.

rafe heads back towards the bed, expecting you to follow as he flops down. “i… i gotta go get a drink of water.” you say quickly, rushing out of the room and towards the kitchen, getting a glass for yourself and one for rafe, making sure to fill his up fully.

“got one for you too.” you smile as you come back into the room, handing the glass to rafe who takes a hearty sip but then sets it on the nightstand. 

“thanks princess.” he smiles. “now come give me a kiss.” 

you wrap your arms around rafe as you fall into the bed, his lips finding yours as you cuddle up to him, legs twisting together.

“i love days like this.” you admit with a happy sigh, rubbing your thumb over his cheek. “where we can just relax alone.” “i love it too, baby.” rafe says softly. “sorry i’ve been so busy lately. shits just been wild. but we are home together now.” “thank you.” you mumble, running your lips teasingly over rafes until he can’t resist any longer, pushing forward to complete the kiss. rafe has been busy over the past couple of weeks, which resulted in you barely getting any attention, so he cleared the entire day just for the two of you, no plans, no friends, no parties, just the two of you.

“can i pick the movie?” you ask rafe, even though he always lets you chose (except that one time he really wanted to watch john wick)

“of course.” rafe hands you the remote, and you quickly get to work pulling up a film. “ponyo!” “you love ponyo.” rafe says with a roll of his eyes. he discounted the film based on the cutesy style, but always really enjoys every time you choose to watch it.

“shh. be quiet and drink your water.” you mumble, reaching for you own glass as well, hoping if rafe sees you drinking that it would spur him to gulp down more, and thankfully he does take a drink.

you cuddle up to rafe as the movie begins, watching as he occasionally drinks more of his water, almost absentmindedly until the glass is empty.

“i’ll get you a refill!” you tell rafe, about to jump off the bed when he stops you.

“baby, you love this part?” he questions, a hint of suspicion in his voice. “i’ll get the refill.” 

“mmkay.” you nod, leaning back against the pillows as rafe exits the room, glass in hand as your eyes drift back to the tv, ponyo using her magic powers to make the toy boat increase in size. 

you smile at rafe when he returns, also with a small bowl of cashews to snack on. you’re happy he chose a salty snack as he takes even more frequent drinks until you get to the ending of the movie, singing along and doing a little shimmy as the song plays over the credits.

“you’re so cute.” rafe smiles, setting his now empty bowl down onto his nightstand. “gotta pee again, wanna hold it?” “yes!” you squeal, following rafe with excitement as he heads into the bathroom.

“jesus, baby.” he laughs at your giddy face. “didn’t think you’d like holding it while i pee this much.” “i don’t know why.” you admit, rubbing your thighs together subconsciously, but it doesn’t go unnoticed by rafe. “i just really like it. makes me feel close to you.” you lean forward and press a kiss to rafes cheek, having to get up on your tiptoes to reach.

“wait… is that why you got me water? so you could hold it again?” rafe laughs, placing his hands on his hips. 

“maybe…” you mumble, rocking back and forth on the heels of your feet.

“baby, did you choose ponyo because of the water? thought it would make me have to go even faster?” 

“rafey, just pull it out!” you whine, surging forward to tug at the string of his sweatpants, unraveling it.

“you like my piss so much, i should go on you.” rafe scoffs, tugging the front of his pants down and pulling out his dick, but you don’t reach for it, your eyes wide and legs clenched together. rafe notices your reaction, smirking when he realizes just how much his words affect you.

“you want that huh? take your clothes off.”

“wh-what?” your eyebrows raise.

“well, unless you want me to piss all over your clothes, take them off. and get in the shower.” rafe says, tugging his own shirt off.

“o-okay.” you nod, quickly stripping your clothes off, glad that you’re not wearing much. you head into the shower, hands shaking in nerves and anticipation.

“well, kneel down.” rafe says, making you jump as he steps in behind you, also completely naked. you nod and kneel down, eyes wide as you look up at rafe.

“not… not the face, please.” you tell rafe. you’re not sure about it yet, you’re not even sure if you’d like his piss anywhere else on your body, but you desperately want to feel it.

“you control that, baby.” rafe says with a chuckle. “you’re holding it, remember?” “right.” you nod, reaching forward to grasp rafes dick, still mostly soft but you can tell he’s aroused and trying to hold it back. you aim towards your bare chest, letting out a gasp when rafe begins to pee, the stream landing on your tits, nipples instantly perking up as the warm stream spreads over them, then down the front of your belly. 

a moan forces its way out of you when the piss glides down your body, pooling between your legs. since rafe was so hydrated, there’s almost no smell, his stream mostly clear as he finishes. you smile up at rafe, unable to control your expression, clearly letting him know how much you enjoyed it. you even remember to shake the last few drops out.

“such a good girl.” rafe leans down, pressing a kiss against your grin.

he helps you stand up before continuing to kiss, your hand still wrapped around his cock as rafe operates the shower one handed, making sure to turn the shower head away as it warms up, turning on the water to clean you off.

“before we get you all clean-” rafe says, your hand now beginning to stroke him when you feel how hard he’s getting against your palm. “let me get you a bit dirtier.”

rafe shoves your hand away before gripping your thigh and tugging it up around his waist, using his other hand to guide his cock towards your entrance. you moan as he doesn’t tease you at all, immediately sinking his hips forward, burying his cock deep inside of you.

rafe gives you a second to adjust, despite being sopping wet. “my dirty little whore. wanting me to piss all over you.”

“i… i liked it a lot.” you admit shyly, wiggling your hips slightly.

“i can tell, baby.” rafe lets out a laugh, beginning to snap his hips forward. “gonna use you like that a lot more often.” he says, thrusting into you with rapid pace, his hand moving to your clit, knowing either of you will be able to last long.

your hands grip his strong shoulders, feeling the muscles underneath your fingertips, pulling him even closer so your chests rub togethers, stimulating your still wet nipples.

“can’t believe you used ponyo to make me have to pee.” rafe laughs. 

“i did what i had to.” you gasp out as his fingers rub faster, dipping down lower towards your entrance to collect more of your wetness on his fingers before gliding upwards.

“gosh, i’m never gonna get to piss alone ever again, am i?” rafe says, but he doesn’t mind, not when it clearly turns you both on so much.

“never.” you hum, eyes sliding shut as you press the back of your head against the shower wall.

“gonna cum for me princess?” rafe asks. truth is, you’ve been moments away since he first agreed to let you hold it.

“yeah.” you nod quickly. “yeah, gonna cum for you rafey.”

“go ahead, doll.” rafe smirks, snapping his hips forward until you let out a gasp, body shaking against the cold tiles as you cum, cunt pulsing around rafes cock, pushing him over the edge as well as he cums with a grunt, pushing into you as he releases.

“fuck!” you whine out, reaching down to shove rafes fingers away from your clit, needing a reprieve as he gently grinds into you, riding out his high.

“oh my god, baby.” rafe groans, dropping his head into the crook of your next. “that was so good.”

you let out a small giggle as your fingers reach to the back of his head, gently rubbing your fingers against his scalp through the short cropped hair.

“you’re lucky i don’t have to piss again.” rafe says, thrusting ever so slightly in again to show what he means.

“can… can you try in there next time?” you glance down.

rafe smiles as he pulls out, his cock flopping out of you as he slowly lowers your leg from around his hip, knowing you’ll need a moment to regain your balance as he keeps his chest pressed against your body, holding you upright against the wall. “just pissed on you and you already want me to piss inside of you? damn baby, i didn’t realize my sweet girlfriend was such a freak!”

“shut up.” you say with a roll of your eyes, a smile on your lips as rafe turns the shower head back towards the two of you, warm water running over your body as your eyes sink closed, already reminiscing in the memory of kneeling before rafe.

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[kingkat12]

♡MASTERLIST♡

Roman Godfrey x Reader (Hemlock Grove)

oneshots/requests: long legs i dare you icarus burning safe (witch!au) safe pt.2 september in paris the mark of death (tw!) i don't smoke procrastination

NSFW: dressing room distracted fuck you neurotic affair safe word silk tie can i watch? meeting vibrations quickie cunt

enigma

NSFW FANFIC: seven minutes in heaven seven minutes in heaven seven minutes in hell the same rain hickeys say it roman's girl all yours the intimacy of shared silence unbearable

Eric Draven x Reader (The Crow 2024)

NSFW FANFIC: draw you pornography you're my drug art on art oneshots/requests: nightmare

Marquis de Gramont x Reader (John Wick 4)

FANFIC: red quelle jolie chose

general info: ao3: kingkat12 recs are always open!<3 and so is my inbox;) minors dni!!!!!

[persephone411]

Imagine sucking John wick off.

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

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

[blueicequeen19]

Don’t Play Games

Warnings: JJ being a cocky fucker, teasing, creampie, oral, orgasm denial

JJ Maybank had an exhibition kink and wasn’t afraid to prove it. The guy wasn’t even remotely shy about his needs and he was far more adventurous than anyone you’d ever been with. You’d quickly learned to overcome any insecurities you might’ve had because he insisted on worshipping you at all hours of the day, no matter where you were.

Right now he had you bent over the counter in the Chateau while your friend group was watching a movie less than ten feet away. His hand over your mouth was the only thing keeping you from crying out in bliss as he stroked the sweet spot deep inside you at a slow and steady pace.

“If only you could see how pathetic you look, taking me like a good little slut. This pussy nice and wet just for me. I bet it feels good having me this deep, doesn’t it?” JJ rasps in your ear, his hips getting flush with your ass as he slides in over and over again. Your release was so close but so far away.

“You wanna cum, baby? You wanna soak my cock then lick it off later when the lights go out?” You nod the best you can with his hand squeezing your cheeks. When he rolls his hips, yours threaten to roll back in your head.

“I have a better idea.” JJ’s free hand slides between your legs, stroking your clit until your legs nearly buckle only to stop abruptly. You whine softly against his hand as he leaves you empty and aching, zipping up his shorts with a taunting smirk.

“Now let’s see who can keep their hands off who during this movie.” JJ pulls your dress back down and turns your body, moving in for a kiss that you avoid with an annoyed look.

“You’re an asshole.” You bite out, your core aching with need as you try to push past him. JJ pulls you in for a panty dropping kiss that leaves you weak and breathless before pulling back with a wicked grin. You let him walk away as you glared at his back, ready to make him pay and his balls blue by the end of the movie.

It didn’t take long before the intense thriller on screen captured everyone’s attention but JJ’s. That was entirely your fault.

You kept an eye on him from the corner of your eye but only because you kept teasing him. He was on one side of the small loveseat and you were on the other. You took the opportunity to sit sideways on your knees so you could flash him your bare pussy when he least expected it. The first time his eyes nearly popped out and he sat up like he was moments away from lunging. Then he quickly looked around the room at his friends to make sure no one had noticed before shooting you a dirty look.

You faked innocence as you quickly tucked your dress back down. A few more minutes passed as you pretended to watch the movie, feeling JJ’s eyes and hunger. You slowly and discreetly tug your dress back up to expose your pussy to him again. It was hard not to smirk over the torture you caused him as he sank deeper into the loveseat, spreading his legs wide in attempt to ease the ache he no doubt felt. His hand tugged at his unruly blonde hair as he released a long exhale while fighting to tear his eyes of your exposed cunt.

When he took out his phone after you’d carefully covered yourself again, you knew you were in trouble. Your own phone lit up with a text and you bit back a smirk.

“Think I won’t sink knuckle deep in that pussy right now?” Your pussy walls pulsed at his crude words and you bit your lip.

“Think I won’t make you watch as I get myself off?” You sent back, followed by a nude you’d sent him earlier in the week. JJ’s expression hardened when he opened the message, his eyes snapping in your direction with a warning glare. You shrugged, sitting your phone down and turning your attention back to the movie.

All of your friends were asleep except Sarah as she nervously bit at her nails, eyes glued to the screen while John B snored softly on her shoulder. Sarah was just as brazen as you were so you didn’t feel bad when turning more on your side to flash JJ again. His eyes burned into you as you reached your hand back to touch your slick slit. JJ’s expression darkened but you refused to back down.

You dipped two fingers inside yourself, letting your head fall back against the couch cushion while you bit your bottom lip. After slowly fingering yourself for a moment, you withdrew your hand as you locked eyes with him and popped the two fingers in your mouth. His eyes widened for a moment before his expression turned dark and he pointed at the hallway with a silent demand.

You shook your head, making a show as you licked your fingers clean before tugging your dress back down to watch the movie.

By the time the movie was over, everyone was passed out but the two of you. JJ was antsy and unable to sit still in his seat. His hair was a mess where he kept dragging his fingers through it and his lip chewed raw. As soon as you stood up once the credits began to roll, he was roughly taking your arm and leading you down the hall.

JJ didn’t say one word or bother to flip the lights on when the bedroom door shut. You reached for him in the dark but he spun you around and shoved you down on the bed. He was on top of you in an instant, your dress hiked up and his cock between your cheeks. He wasn’t easy when he shoved inside you and his movements were rough.

His hand fisted your hair, shoving your face into the bedding as he pounded you like there was no tomorrow. Like you were nothing more than a hole for him to use. It was too much at once and you couldn’t get your bearings. You couldn’t reach your clit.

“Thought you could tease me and get away with it?” JJ growls in your ear, his chest pressed to your back as his hips hammer into you. You don’t get time to respond before a deep groan echos in your ear and you feel him finishing inside you. JJ quickly climbs off your body, leaving you dazed and confused as he rights himself.

“JJ, I swear—.”

“You’re in no position to make demands, baby.” JJ’s voice taunting while you roll over to face him.

“I didn’t cum.” You scoff, angry and humiliated that your plan backfired. JJ flashed that signature smile of his as he leaned down until you were almost nose to nose.

“You should’ve behaved. Bad girls don’t get to cum.” JJ leaned in to kiss you but you jerked back, rolling your lip at him.

“Awe, no kiss? That’s fine.” JJ smirks before suddenly yanking you to the edge of the bed by your hips and dropping to his knees. His head is under your dress before you can protest, his torturous mouth sucking your clit hard until you see stars.

“Oh, J—.” Your back bows off the bed, your hands fisting the bedding as your orgasm barrels forward only for him to pull away at the last possible second. A pathetic whine leaves your lips as he raises to his full height with a devious smirk, your arousal glistening on his mouth and chin.

“Don’t get mad because the player plays the game better than you, baby. I’ll finish you when I think you’ve earned it. Now be a good girl and get our stuff so we can go home.”

[ruskaroma]

If John is eating reader out on her period then he must enjoy fucking her in it as well, and raw. But what if reader doesn’t know what John does for a living and wonders why it turns him on so much to have period sex?

She’ll notice how intensely he watches his cock disappear into her sensitive pussy, and how he moans at the sight of his cock coming out coated with reader’s blood. And coming inside her? She wonders how such a messy and gross act can awaken something primal in the sophisticated man.

With all the blood that John has shed, there’s something so satisfying about fucking clueless reader when she’s on her period. He’s not hurting her (and would never), matter of fact he’s pleasuring her! It’s such a contrast between both acts and John is glad to experience the latter with reader.

you are onto something and i’m here for it.

listen. listen.

john wick has a MASSIVE (cock) corruption kink. i repeat, john wick has a MASSIVE (cock) corruption kink.

it turns him on so much how unaware you are of his job. you don’t know just how much bodies he disposes on a daily basis and how dangerous he could be, yet you still stay with him because you don’t know. john gets off on your naivety.

when he’s fucking you on your period, it’s pure heaven. it’s filthy, but god does it feel so good. especially for john, who’s always enjoying the sight of his cock sinking in your bloody cunt.

and you’re extra sensitive when you’re on your period !! you turn into a crybaby. just one touch from him and you’d already be tearing up and just beg for him to start fucking you already.

“i remember how much you hated period sex at first,” he’d tease, biting at your neck as he plows his large cock deeper inside your pussy, hitting the deepest parts of your insides you could feel it in your stomach. “you said it’s too messy, but you don’t have to worry about such things, baby. i like it messy.”

“y-you’re so weird,” you whimper, holding on to his shoulders as your legs shake from pleasure. “y-you get turned on with my blood. a-are you a v-vampire?”

“maybe,” john smirks, nipping your neck. “would you still take my cock if i am?”

“m-maybe.”

[feinv]

thigh riding with john wick because what else does he need those big strong thighs for??

it usually happens when he hasn’t yet changed from his usual black suit which does something to your brain.

you would be seated next to him in one of his shirts and only panties on, talking about mundane stuff and would somehow always end up on his lap with your two legs on each side of his one thigh and hands on his shoulders for support because you just can’t control yourself.

and of course he doesn’t mind. he would watch eyes filled with lust as you move yourself against his black trousers, whimpering and moaning every time the fabric rubs perfectly against your folds.

he would let you fuck yourself stupid untill the energy runs out of your body before you can even reach your high and you would silently beg him to take the lead. which he gladly does by wrapping his arms around your waist and moving you back and forth, guiding you through.

with your eyes shut, you would throw your head back ravishing in the bliss he brings you, dampening his pants further. he would use that opportunity to attach his lips to your exposed neck and leave red love bites and whisper sweet praises to your ear.

he can see and feel the dark spot on his pants from you just as you can feel how hard he is when your knee accidentally brushes against him.

with his thumb drawing lazy circles on your clit, you would shamelessly leave his pants all white and sticky, kissing him hungrily before he carries you to bed to properly take care of you :)

©️feinv, 2024.

[angelfoxx]

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° ❝ A DIFFERENT NAME. ❞

…what they (endearingly) call you.

FEATURING: simon “ghost” riley, john “soap” mactavish, keegan p russ

WARNINGS: suggestive + mild nsfw. mild. also implied fem!reader for keegan’s part

NOTE/S: i love keegan so fucking much i want to plant my face between his legs and mash my face into his lap

★ SIMON “GHOST” RILEY.

✦ For a while, nothing. The progression is your callsign, to your last name, and then to your first name, and then it kind of stops there, because that’s a lot.

✦ At some point, probably when you two are casually working together — not on the field but just back at base, maybe you’re doing chores or something of the like — maybe he’s feeling a little sappy, or maybe he’s just a little tired, but either way, he’s not gatekeeping his words. He’s not watching himself.

✦ You pass him a mug of tea, and he takes it with a grunt and “thanks, love.”

✦ Absolute fucking silence.

✦ He stumbles into a short apology, and you almost fall over yourself trying to tell him that it’s okay and actually it’s really endearing and you really like being called that. He actually argues against you, cites safety as one of the reasons that he can’t call you that and get used to calling you that — and then, at some point, he runs out of rebuttals and all that’s left is the fact that you want him to keep calling you that.

✦ It takes him a long time to get comfortable with it, but over time, “love” becomes his new nickname of choice for you. At some point, he seems to say it more than he addresses you by your actual name. In public, he doesn’t usually call for you by name, and if he does, it’s your last name or maybe your first name. In private, he eventually almost solely refers to you as love. He also does it excessively. “G’morning, love. You tired, love? That one’s yours, love.” Et cetera.

★ JOHN “SOAP” MACTAVISH.

✦ Because he’s the way he is, chances are you’re being called by a nickname more than you’re being called by your name. And not necessarily, like, lovey-dovey ones.

✦ He’ll call you by your callsign on missions, right? And then you get back to base afterward and you’re both still sweaty and gross and he’ll come over and clap you on the back and go “that’s how it’s fuckin’ done, sugartits!” and you get to respond in kind by calling him whatever stupid nickname you can think of. “Dickweed” makes him laugh.

✦ At some point in the relationship, though, you guys don’t just fuck around 24/7. To be clear, the stupid nicknames are always going to stick around and the entire base knows that the two of you seem to be in a headlock over who can come up with the worse one, but as time goes on, there are genuine sweet ones thrown in.

✦ “Baby” is his favorite. Horrendously basic considering that he mashes words up for the most abhorrent nicknames he can make up, but he seems to like the simple shortness of it. It slips off of his tongue so nicely and it seems like, while his stupid nicknames make him laugh, “baby” makes him smile like an idiot.

✦ He’s most prone to using it in private (it’s deliciously low and gravelly when he’s got his eyes lidded and mouth curved into a wicked smirk and he’s knelt so casually between your legs) or in public. Especially if it’s a night where everyone is training or gaming. Any sort of situation in which you can beat someone else, he’s calling you by it. “Get ‘im, baby!” “Fuck ‘im up, baby.” Things like that. If/when you win in sparring matches or poker or whatever the fuck else, he’s very prone to celebrating on your behalf and referring to you as “my fuckin’ baby/girl/boy”.

★ KEEGAN P RUSS.

✦ this man could call me whatever the fuck he wants and i’d go weak in the knees. he could call me shitbrains in that sexy fucking voice of his and id be like yes yes shitbrains is me that’s me can I choke on your dick sir can i gargle your balls can i

✦ He really likes to call you by your last name. He makes a point out of using it as much as he can. If you have a callsign, he usually disregards it and just continues to call you by your last name. If you ask him about it, he’ll play dumb. and he’ll be biting back a smirk and then you’ll get on your knees and suck him off cause why haven’t you started doing that already

✦ Eventually, though, he might feel inclined to tease you. He’s obviously not opposed to doing the dirty work for the Ghosts — he’ll climb through sewers, stake out in muddy creeks, et cetera. If you make a comment about those environments to him, he’s prone to laughing at you and then, god damn the man, he’ll tease. “Not good enough for you, princess?”

✦ You sort of freeze up. He notices your hesitation and briefly thinks it’s because he’s possibly incurred a friendly fight but no, it’s because of that fucking name. Keegan’s blessed with the ability to fluster you very easily and so him calling you fucking princess has you sort of stumbling over yourself.

✦ He tortures you with it. Tortures you. He calls you princess or doll (because both make you sound little and weak, and he loves trying to get under your skin) when there are other people almost within earshot. He knows they can’t hear him — he’s insanely perceptive. You don’t know that, though, and so when you��re gearing up for a mission and he stoops down on his walk by and tells you that “you got a smudge on your cheek, princess”, he almost cackles upon your eyes going wide and your response being to immediately scold him for it. He’ll keep it coolly professional on public comms, but he’s tormenting you with it when you’re face-to-face or on a channel exclusive to the two of you.

✦ He tortures you with it in the best way. He does. Because he’s calling you princess while you two are working and he’s calling you princess when he’s looking to get a rise out of you but he’s also calling you princess when he’s got you bound so expertly in his private barracks and he’s also calling you princess when you’re straddling him in the driver’s seat of one of the repossessed armored cars and—

✦ LORD

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

THE 141 RESPONDING TO READER'S CRAVINGS (pregnant or not) SUSPICIOUSLY BUT STILL GETTING THEM WHAT THEY WANT cuz they love them 😭😭

Hehe, absolutely! I did this one just as pregnant readers cravings if that's okay! I've heard of some really interesting ones to say the least🤣

141's + König's Reactions To Pregnant Readers Cravings

Warnings: mentions of gagging, urge to throw up

Simon Ghost Riley-

Simon awoke to an empty bed, groaning as he stretched his arms out to find your side of the bed cold. He rubbed at his eyes and stretched before swinging his legs off the side of the bed.

His brows furrowed slightly as he could smell the aroma of tomato sauce in the air. It was 8 am, what were you up to downstairs?

He made his way down to the kitchen and found you singing along your favorite song, cooking away at the stove.

"...babe?" He asked, approaching you slowly. "What, uh, what are you making?"

"Have you ever seen the movie ELF? With Will Farrell? That scene where he makes the spaghetti? It just sounded really good." You turned to him with a wide smile, as you giggled maniacally.

Simon swallowed thickly, slightly terrified at what was unfolding in front of him. He'd be lying, though, if he said he didn't find the sight of you adorable. You had a raging bedhead, your makeup still slightly smudged from yesterday, and were draped in one of his shirts, which practically dwarved you despite your growing belly.

He watched as you struggled with the pasta and chuckled slightly before making his way over to you, placing his hands on your waist as he kissed your forehead. "Need help?"

"Yes! Oh, that'd be great. The sauce is almost done. Can you get the syrup and the candy from the pantry?" You turned to him with a smile, and there was no way in hell Simon could ever say no to you.

He did as he was asked and felt his insides churn slightly as he watched you throw all of the ingredients together on the plate.

"Darn bottle won't open!" You huffed in frustration, prompting Simon to come to the rescue. "Thanks, Si. Once it's opened, can you pour it all over the pasta?"

"You want...syrup all over the pasta?" He suddenly realized you were being quite serious about the reference to the Christmas movie. "I uh.. okay."

He felt bile rise in his throat as he poured the syrup all over the pasta and tomato sauce, and it took everything in him not to puke as he watched you scarf it down. "It's SO good, Simon!"

"Sweetheart, I love you, but that looks dreadful." He chuckled, patting you on the head. "I'll go to the store and buy some TUMS, lord knows you'll need it later."

He gave a kiss to your head before grabbing his keys, stopping when you called out to him, waiving a small piece of paper. "Wait! I have a list. Can you get me these?"

"God, you're lucky I love you." He rolled his eyes playfully as he pressed a kiss to your lips. "Oh blood hell, that tastes horrid."

He grabbed the piece of paper and had to bite back a laugh as he looked at what was on the list. "Hot sauce? Ice cream? Tuna? Do I want to know?"

"Probably best not to ask."

John Price-

"Babe, I was going to order us some dinner, what did you want?" Your husband, John, called from the other room.

"I'm actually okay! Order for yourself. Found my new favorite snack." You shouted back, digging into the food in front of you.

Confused, given that you never turned down the chance to order food, John made his way into the kitchen, and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw you.

You were perched on the counter, 5 months pregnant, and in your lap was a carton of ice cream, with a jar of pickles right next to you. He watched as you scooped at the ice cream with one of the pickles in your hand.

John had to practice wicked self-restraint, as he tried desperately to not puke. "Love. Are you eating pickles... and ice cream?"

You nodded your head vigorously before biting off a chunk of pickle and spooning ice cream into your mouth seconds after. Your eyes fluttered shut as you let out a content sigh.

"Who knew! That pickles and ice cream would be SUCH a good combination?" You exclaimed, a wide smile on your face. "You should try it!"

"Oh. No, that's all you love. Wouldn't want to take it from you." He replied, trying to be polite. Though he found the idea utterly repulsive, he didn't want to make you feel bad about what you were craving.

John watched on, horrified, as you downed nearly the entire carton of ice cream and at least a half dozen pickles. How you weren't getting sick from it, he'd never know.

"Do you know if we have peanut butter?" You asked, turning to your husband with a hopeful gaze.

John blinked a few times before realizing you were talking to him. "Oh, yeah. Let me uh, grab it for you."

He reached in the cabinet next to you and slid you the jar of peanut butter. You grabbed at it and methodically dipped the pickle you were holding into the peanut butter. This time, Price couldn't hide the look of disgust on his face.

"Oh my God, this is incredible. I don't know why I didn't try this before!"

"I can think of quite a few reasons why a perfectly sane person wouldn't try it." He chuckled, and quickly dodged as you threw the spoon at him.

"Hey, Mister! You know better than to rile up a person when they are pregnant! It's not good for the baby!" You said playfully, as you flicked pickle juice at your husband. "Anyways, go ahead and order whatever you want!"

"Oh, sweetheart, my appetite is long gone."

Johnny Soap MacTavish-

"Hey, when you're out... could you possibly get pickles... and jelly?" You approached your husband shyly as you twirled your hair between your fingers. You'd had this craving for weeks, and it was getting to the point where you could no longer ignore it.

Johnny stiffled a laugh before offering a mock salute. "No idea what you'll do with those, but sure thing. I'll be back soon."

~

You met Johnny at the door when he returned, and were quick to grab the bag from his hands and sprint to the kitchen. You tore through the bag to grab the jar of pickles, and the jelly, and made quick work of spending the jelly all across the pickle.

"So, you going to make a peanut butter and jelly sandy? I didn't know if we had bread so I bought it... I bought..." Johnny's words trailed off as his eyes landed on you, practically inhaling the jelly covered pickle.

You turned to him with a sheepish gaze as you swallowed the remainder of your concoction. "What?"

"You just...ate pickles and jelly?" He asked, his brows raising.

"Look, it sounds gross, but I promise you, it tastes amazing. Try it!" You held up the second jellied pickle to him with a proud smile.

Johnny shook his head, chuckling and against his better judgment, grabbed the pickle from you, and took a bite.

"Not.. Not terrible." He said, coughing slightly. "Have you heard of dipping chips in honey though? Heard that's a weird craving but am tempted to try it if you're down, we've got the ingredients for it."

From that moment on, Johnny helped you with any pregnancy craving you had, and even encouraged some of them. He'd find various combinations on social media and would try them along with you.

The two of you even made it a game to see who could come up with the tastiest, weirdest combination. Surprisingly, Johnny won nearly every time.

Kyle Gaz Garrick-

"Hey, babeeee?" You called out to your husband, Kyle, who was cooking breakfast in the kitchen.

"Yeah love, what's up?" Kyle asked, looking over his shoulder as he flipped the bacon.

"Could you possibly put a glob of Nutella on the side with my plate of bacon?" You bit your lip nervously, unsure of how Kyle would react to the unusual request.

"Sure, but what did you need it for? I don't have any toast made."

"I uh...dipping the bacon in it sounded rather good, so I wanted to try it."

"Well that's a new one, don't think I've heard that one before." Kyle chuckled.

He finished up cooking and put together a small plate of bacon and Nutella for you. He stared at it for a moment, wondering how you possibly could've come up with this concoction. To say he was curious of how it would taste, was an understatement.

He walked over to you with a smile and handed you the plate, laughing softly as you did a small happy dance. "One plate of bacon and Nutella for my love."

"Oh, it smells heavenly, thanks, Ky!" You dug right into the food, groaning loudly as it tasted even better than you thought it would. "Kyle, you have to take a bite. I know it looks gross, but it's so good."

Kyle couldn't help himself. The giant smile on your face had you looking adorable, and he'd do anything to make you happy. He walked over and took one of the slices of bacon before dipping it in the Nutella.

"Holy shit. This is so delicious, babe." His eyes lit up as the flavor exploded on his tongue. He grabbed another slice of bacon and used it to scoop up a large bit of the hazelnut spread.

You giggled as you moved the plate to the middle of the table, and gestured to the seat next to you.

Needless to say, the two of you spent the better part of that morning eating Nutella and bacon, not that either of you were complaining.

König-

"Maus, what's all this in the cart?" König asked as he watched you throw yet another thing into your overflowing shopping cart.

"Oh! I'm just super hungry. I had a few things I wanted to try out." You gave him an elated glance before barreling down another aisle to grab another ingredient.

König chuckled to himself before looking down at the array of ingredients in the cart. You had everything from hot sauce to ice cream to oranges. He swallowed thickly as he remembered reading something in one of the pregnancy books he bought about the weird cravings those who were pregnant got.

You both made it home about an hour later, and he watched as you bolted inside, with one of the bags tucked firmly in your arms. He followed behind you and nearly gagged when he watched you grab the bottle of hot sauce and the jar of peanut butter. Surely... you weren't going to..

"Kö, can you get me a spoon?" You asked sweetly as you opened the ingredients in front of you.

König stood there for a moment, unable to process what was happening before he shook himself. He walked over slowly, grabbing a spoon from the drawer and handing it to you hesitantly. He watched as you snatched it from his hands, got a spoonful of peanut butter, and drizzled a decent bit of hot sauce on top.

You put the spoonful in your mouth and licked the entire spoon clean, moaning as you absorbed the taste. You put the spoon back in the peanut butter, before repeating the process with the hot sauce. "This is just what I needed."

"It...it tastes good?" König asked, bewildered. In his life, he'd seen people eat some pretty weird shit, but this easily took the cake.

"Oh gosh, it so does. Try it?" You asked, beaming as you turned to him. He gulped audibly as he approached you, taking the outstretched spoon.

You watched him with a hopeful gaze, as he took a tiny bit of the concoction on the spoon. He did his best to keep a straight face as he processed the taste and was trying not to gag as he desperately did not want to hurt your feelings.

He cleared his throat a few times before darting over to the fridge to grab a drink. He grabbed the first beverage he could find and downed it. "Maus.."

You gave a small giggle as you watched your husband's struggles. "Not a fan?"

"Oh, no, it was.. it was good. I'm just very thirsty." He gasped out as he finished the last of his drink. "Perhaps, I could make you a better snack though? I don't know how filling this will be for you."

"What kind of snack did you have in mind?"

König gave a hearty chuckle. "Well considering we bought half the store today, I'm sure I could come up with something."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[johnwickb1tsch]

I headcanon that John would have been a favorite amongst the girls in Tarasov's organization precisely because he wasn't a creep. The quiet, dark-eyed tower behind Tarasov, the babayaga bodyguard. He's such a gentleman in the movies. He's so careful not to shoot up any of the collateral women on his rampages. Your heel goes sideways on the stairs in the Red Circle? He's gonna catch you. The other toughs trying to get a blowjob just because they're big and mean? Not while John is around. He would have a reputation, and it would almost become a game, even for Tarasov. Sitting in the club, the boss would send over a pretty girl to sit in John's lap, whether the bodyguard made of stone is in the mood of not.

Maybe you're new to the club scene, you don't have papers yet and you pretty much have to do anything you're told. You don't know about John Wick's rep, just that he's handsome and a little terrifying. When Viggo is deep into a bottle of vodka and he orders you to make his associate a happy man, you make your way on reluctant feet towards the tall, hawk-eyed member of the entourage.

"It's ok," he tells you quietly as you drape yourself across his lap. His legs are a mile long, there's plenty of real estate, and for once you find that you don't really mind this assignment. "Just relax." Maybe he senses the nervous tension in your bones. It's not because you're unhappy with your current position. Almost absently, like stroking a cat, his fingertips occasionally caress your spine.

You hope you don't ruin his beautiful suit; you cannot help the moisture that builds between your thighs. You try crossing your legs to relieve the tension.

It doesn't work.

Some of the other girls are already choking on cock under the table with their partners for the evening, but John ignores them, watching the teeming crowd of the club, making no demands of you except the light touch of his large hand spanning the small of your back.

He gets a phonecall, a terse three sentence conversation, and you sense the change in him. Suddenly he is strung taut as a bow, ready to fire.

"Sorry, dietka, I have to go," he whispers in your ear, and amazingly you are so disappointed.

"Will you come see me sometime?" you ask as reluctantly you stand from his throne of a lap.

He kisses your knuckles, but doesn't say a thing. Then he disappears into the crowd, and longingly you look after the place where he'd just been.

For the first time ever, you regret not having got the chance to have a certain dick in your mouth. You're certain it would have been a thing of beauty.

[ficsbb]

Moments with John Wick II

》 Pairing: Loving!John Wick x Reader

》 Warnings: pet names, gross misconduct of lovey doviness

》 Word Count: 1.3k+

Note: I've been overthinking about these snippets for too long, so here I go, I release them! 🤭 Enjoy! Aplogies for any error in tense use, spelling, grammar etc. Credit to @toastray for the cute dividers!

It was hard at first, getting to know him better. You could feel the heaviness of his grief all around him. It was in everything he looked at and everything he touched, lingering in doorways after he'd walk through. He knew you could see it. It was all in your eyes and how you interacted with him during moments the sadness gathered in his throat.

“I'm okay,” he says, “I promise.” You put your hand on his cheek and nod.

"I know."

He doesn't know what it is with your touch, but it unravels that monstrous grief with ease. You watch him close his eyes briefly and bring your palm to his lips, letting out a sigh, followed by a kiss.

“You save me.” It's genuine, and every part of you knows it's true. There's been a lingering doubt with others, but never with him. When John tells you this. time and time again, it makes you feel lighter and warm.

“What do you think?” You're leafing through a pamphlet for a train vacation. It's not something you would have expected John would like. In fact, you were the one more inclined to do something like this.

“When are you thinking?” He lets out a sigh of relief, happy that you're interested at least. He's waiting for you to spot the destination on the trip he circled, the one he knows you've always wanted to go on. John pauses, waits a moment and then sees your eyes glow.

You look up at him, “Is that the one we're going on?” He nods. “Like, we're actually going, for real?” You watch as he laughs, head tipped back and adam's apple moving slightly. It warms you up just as a nice cup of hot chocolate always does.

“What about work?” John shakes his head, knowing you'd ask.

“I can work anywhere, but I'm taking a full break for the trip. I don't want to miss a moment with you.” He watches your eyes flutter, your breathing change. For a second he's worried he said the wrong thing. He worries about that all the time, but when you pull him into a tight hug, arms around his middle, he feels that pull of the string. The way it snaps straight from the center of his chest to yours and he wonders if you can feel it too.

“Thank you, John. Thank you.”

“You never have to thank me, beautiful.”

A phone call comes through in the middle of the night. It startles you awake and you feel John put his arm over you. He knows when your nervousness or anxiety is heightened more than usual. It didn't take long for him to notice your mannerisms when you're under stress while you've been together. These things were part of his work and work has had some ways of bleeding through. Whether it was through his clothes or in the ways he could keep you safe, it bleeds through.

“Is everything okay?” You ask, voice laced in sleep. You rub at his arm as he pats your stomach a couple times before he sits up. Your eyes are adjusted to the dark as you sit up with him, watching his hand sift through his hair. He hates these moments. Similar conversations come to mind, blurred and racing as the quiet around you both becomes deafening.

“A job. I have to go.” 

“Oh.”

“I know.” 

He hates these moments. He hates the way your sleep is interrupted and the sadness so easily conveyed in the ‘oh’s’, ‘right now?’, ‘when will you be home?’ gnaws at him. 

“I'll have to be on a plane soon.” You nod, quiet, rubbing at your arm. Self soothing. John turns over to look at you and it doesn't get any easier for him when he sees that shimmer of tears gloss your eyes.

“Come here, sweetheart.” You take a deep breath to brace yourself and get out of bed to go to his side. He leans back slightly as you stand between his legs, both hands on either side of his face. His eyes close. You know he loves when you do this. It calms the both of you down in a way and any chance to touch him is a chance you'll grab at greedily.

“How long will this one take?” 

“Not long. A couple of days.” You kiss his forehead as he pulls you in closer. When he rests his head on your chest, he can hear your heartbeat. It's a little fast, but it's comforting. It's a song to him, the melody striking and forceful always swallowing him up. As he pulls back, he looks up at you and wipes at the rest of the tears you seem to have messily swept away.

“How about you come with me?” 

“Is that allowed?” You're genuinely surprised since he's never asked. John tells you very little about these things, hoping that sparing you details will keep you safe.

“I'm allowing it.” A rush of heat goes to your cheeks and he smiles when that twinkle is back in your eyes.

“May I kiss you?” He pulls you both into bed so you're lying down again.

“I'll allow that too.” You laugh, and he kisses you.

You slam the back door behind you and walk purposefully to the shed. It's a crisp and foggy evening. You've left John in the house somewhere, calling after you.

“Fucker,” you say under your breath, exasperated. He knows you hate big gatherings being popped up on you. While it's exhilarating being at his side at events, it also comes with your own anxieties about being seen. Apart from that, you've already made plans with close friends that you hadn't seen in a long time and it makes you angry that he's forgotten again.

“I'm sorry.” His voice startles you a bit, your thoughts swirling in an irritated bubble around you. John's voice always breaks through. You grab a bag of dirt to prep for the plants in your greenhouse.

“I'm sorry,” he says again, his voice closer than before. You sigh and pause scooping the dirt from the bag into your own mixture.

“I hate this.”

“I know, I'm sorry. I really am.” You continue what you're doing, preferring to stay quiet instead of saying something you'll regret later on. It's not long before John is right next to you, bringing his sleeves up and mixing the dirt by hand. It softens you up. The sight of him helping you always has really, and it makes you smile despite yourself.

“I can do it, John.” 

“I know you can. Let me.” You stop what you're doing and watch his hands. Watch how they sift through the dirt like he was mixing butter into a short puff pastry. So delicate and without any thought, just as natural to him as it is to breathe. John can see you from the corner of his eye. You've seemingly forgotten the mixing altogether and are leaning closer, almost shoulder to shoulder. 

“I like being here with you,” he starts, taking a used rag nearby to wipe his hands, “I can lose my focus and it doesn't cost me a life. It feels freeing.”

“I didn't know that.” You move things out of the way, cleaning as you go.

“Well, I know this is your space to get away so I try not to barge in.” He wipes some dirt from the tip of your nose.

“I always love when you're here with me.”

“Even if I upset you by being a dumb, forgetful man?” He sort of pouts and a giggle bubbles out of you. John smiles, hoping to hear that sound every moment of his life. He finds a wayward hair falling out of place and tucks it behind your ear.

“I love you.” 

“I love you too.” He pulls you into him, enveloping you completely. There's nothing else for you to do but fall in deep, deeper still. The smell of him calming all of your senses and somehow, some way you feel that peaceful quiet making you sleepy.

“How about this? We go inside, warm up with some hot chocolate and put on a spooky movie.” 

“Yes, please.” You say, taking his hand and following him back to the house.

You’ve never been one to push him on expressing his feelings. You learned quickly that John would come to on his own, as did you whether you realized it or not. It took an accident, a simple fall really. You were out on a walk and something struck you in how these tiny flowers, or weeds, really, stuck out from the side of the road you were walking on. The Sun shining pointedly at them and they seemed to have pointedly been reaching out to you. John had a meeting to take somewhere in town even though it was supposed to be your vacation together, so as soon as you woke in the morning to find him gone and a beautiful note at your bedside, a walk was due.

You only meant to pick a few to press when you got back to the rental, but before you knew it, your ankle rolled and you found yourself tumbling in the ditch. It wasn’t deep or far off at all, but when John found out, you might as well have fallen straight to the Earth’s core.

“You should’ve waited until I got back,” he started, pacing in the hospital room. The nurse was tending to your ankle, gently. “What if you got really hurt? How would I have known?”

“I was clumsy. I can be clumsy, John. I’m okay.”

“And if you weren’t?”

“Then I wouldn’t be.”

For some reason, that stops him. You still wonder what it was you said that calmed him down, but you remember him kneeling down in front of you and softly, deftly, taking your sprained ankle into his hands. You were going to stop him from unraveling the nurses' handiwork, but stop yourself and let him, curious. He looks you over, careful not to cause any pain or discomfort, and wraps it back better than it just had been.

“You’re okay.” You nodded, understanding what he needed at that moment. He sighed heavily, looking up at you and saying, "Getting that call scared me. I don’t want you getting hurt ever again.” And there it was.

“I can’t promise that.” You both laughed quietly. He placed a kiss on your ankle and stood up.

“I know, but do it anyway. Promise me.”

“I promise.”

You'll never forget that look in his eyes. Brown eyes, matching yours, shimmering with so much love. You swore in that moment that if you had reached out to put your hand on his chest, your hearts beating would be indistinguishable from the other. Not a single wave, lurch, or pulse different in any way. How curious all of this was. How lovely. How lucky.

"I promise, John." You remember saying again and he kissed you. A soft and sweet kiss that always lingers, still.

[verrixstudios]

Treasure Planet X Wings of Fire

Here’s some smaller screenshots with movie screenshots in them as well. Keep in mind I drew all of this after the watching movie I wasn’t really using references so it’s not like they’re a bajillion percent accurate

I drew all of this while listening to Epic the musical, and it was on the last song for Mr Arrow and bones, which is why they aren’t the same detail

[ID: (in order of the singular images) 6 wings of Fire dragon references and two headshots, all digitally sketched in a red pencil-like brush. Each dragon is heavily referenced off some characters from the show Treasure Planet. Bedside each dragon is written the character they’re based on and the Wof tribe the dragon design is also based on. Each singular image has the dragon, it’s info, and an image of the character it’s based on.

The first dragon is a heavy set MudWing based on John Silver. His right legs and wing are mechanical, heavily based on the cyborg parts of the movie character. His wings are semi spread, held above him but curved so that they aren’t fully spread. He wears a captains hat that looks small on his head and has a large tail that has a scarred end, as if it were cut off at the very end. A small hoop earring is on his short ear, and his horns seem to have been sawed off halfway, given a flat cap over the end of them.

The second is a much thinner and lankier dragon based on Captain Amelia. She is listed as a hybrid of an icewing and a sandwing. Her wings are folded at her sides, showing off the frill had follows along her spine. It breaks apart in some areas, becoming small quills behind her head and neck and on the end of her tail. Her head is thinner, with sharp ears perked upward. A larger captains hat stands on her head.

The third dragon is another Mudwing based on Dr. Delbert Doppler. He is dwarfed by Silver, despite being the same tribe. His stance is less wide than Silver, though he also has a blockier head and shape. his wings are semi folded in the same way, though tilted a little upward. He has small glasses on his face and darker spikes and horns along his face and the back of his neck. Ears are rounded and folded over halfway.

The fourth image has two dragons which seem to be arguing. Furthest from the screen is a huge but lanky Sandwing. Based on the antagonist Mr. Scroop. His wings are outspread and the membranes are shown to be in tatters. A talon is outstretched toward the screen, curled like he were preparing to hit the smaller dragon in front of him. His face is thin but showing a wicked snarl, long horns jutting outwards opposite of his snout. A spiky frill lines the back of his head and down his spine. His ribcage is a pronounced shape, not in the way that he’s starving but to show how thin and lanky he is. His tail curls behind his feet and points its scorpion like barb directly at the chin of the other dragon. The other dragon is nearly half his height, facing toward Scroop and away from the screen, face in an open snarl with his ears pinned backwards. He is a Nightwing Skying hybrid based on the protagonist, Jim Hawkins. His wings are touching the grounds at his sides and the ends folded upwards. Spikes line his spine from neck to tail, which curls around him like it was mid-flick.

The fifth image is a side profile headshot of an old and thin looking Seawing based on the old and dying character, Bones. He has an underbite, large webbed frills along his head and spine, and catfish-like whiskers on his chin. small sharp teeth are visible on his closed mouth, and his horns look to be broken off.

The sixth image is a 3/4ths headshot of a thicker Nightwing with a wide nose and chin based on Mr. Arrow. His face his scrunched in what looks like a grimace. He has short but big horns, and spikes that stick out from his spine along his neck. A thick captains hat sits on his head.

The final image is a full body reference of a robot made to look like a rainwing. He is based on B.E.N. He is 3/4ths facing the screen in a sitting position, with a wide mouth open in a grin. Mechanical frills on either side of his head are open wide. His winds are semi open and pointed outward on either side, showing that they have minimal ‘membrane’ as if he wasn’t built for flying. His chest has a circle in it, which resembles the broken compass the character has in his own chest.

End ID]

Woaaah that was a lot of writing 😂

[beansricejc]

THE CLIENT - John Wick x F!Reader

my masterlist.

synopsis: you go to some extreme measures to make sure you get your rent paid on time.

⚠️ warnings ⚠️: DUB/NON con, s3x work, cursing, sugar daddycore, implied violence, brief descriptions of violence, misleading job descriptions, good & bad name calling, chasing, financial / emotional manipulation, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT! MINORS DNI! 4379 words.

author’s note: I am so sorry about not being active, I’ve been meaning to take this off of the back burner for some time now. If you follow me you probably have noticed that this is based off of a short blurb I uploaded a few months ago. I’ve been avoiding writing because of several anon hate messages I’ve gotten about Fake It, and it put a huge damper on my writing process. but I’m back and I hope you all enjoy!

This economy is shit.

That's the sentence you continue to repeat in your brain. Should you have to work more than your full time accounting job at that stupidly high skyscraper downtown? Absolutely not, but your rent was bumped up by 15%, and a mere 40 hour work week won’t cut it anymore.

“Can you work nights?” The temp agent asks from across his desk. The florescent lights of his office (that is desperately in need of an update) are giving you a headache. The pot of coffee on the table in the corner is starting to burn.

“Yeah. Anytime after 6.” You quickly answer, your leg that’s crossed on top of the other is bouncing. The worker nods his head and clacks his vintage looking keyboard in front of his computer monitor.

The thick silence in this small space might kill you.

The worker’s eyes squint at his screen, before they trail back to you, seeming to give your face and your body a look over.

“Do you have any experience with housekeeping?” The worker asks, which makes your head tilt. Your printed and slightly crumpled resume is right there in front of him. Idiot.

“I mean, not houses, but when I worked retail I would have to clean the store from time to time.” You tell him and raise your eyebrows.

He nods and continues to stare at you. Creep.

“There’s an opening for a private housekeeper gig a bit north. You wouldn’t be tied to an agency, the client would pay you directly.” The man informs you. “Can, can I just do one thing first? Usually our employers, uh, they typically request pictures of their applicants.” The temp agent stammers and grabs his smartphone from his desk drawer. “Let me just…”

You don’t have any time to decline, since the flash is already going off in your direction.

“Uh- I’ve never heard of anything like that.” you question while the man types on his phone.

“Have you been employed through a temp agency before?”

“Well, not exact-“

“Then clearly you’re unfamiliar with how this works.” He interjects before setting the device down. “The pay is very good, although the employer hasn’t told me specifics. 3 nights a week after 6:30. 3 to 4 hour shifts. Does that work?” the worker asks and pushes up his glasses.

You feel a bit dumbfounded, and you have a strange suspicion that this man is gaslighting the hell out of you. But what can you do? You’re about to be 3 weeks late on rent.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” You mumble out.

It wasn’t fine. You hate the fact that instead of being able to snuggle up with your dog and watch reruns of New Girl, you have to pick up a second job.

“Great. I’ll have him give you a call.” was the last thing the man told you before you left the building. Secretly, you hope whoever this ‘employer’ is, they just forget about contacting you.

Hours later, you’re putting groceries into your fridge when your phone starts to vibrate in your pocket. You answer of course.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this, uh…” a deep male voice on the other line asks, accidentally mispronouncing your first name. Chuckling, you quickly correct him. “My mistake, forgive me. Ah, I heard you’re looking for a job?”

Your eyes bulge and you suddenly straighten up as if the man is having a face to face conversation with you. There was no way he was already calling you! Totally unprepared, you cleared your dry throat.

“Yeah, yep, that’s me.” you answer his question. His voice is so sultry. The man is clearly older than you, and it’s clear that he thinks before he speaks.

“Perfect. Pay is 1200 an hour, and if you swing by around 6:45 tomorrow that would be great. Can I email you my address?” The man offers online. You frown and choke on the water you were sipping.

“Woah, woah, excuse me. You said… 1200 an hour?” You repeat his payment offer.

“Yeah, is that a problem? All in cash.”

You almost have a heart attack.

“Nope, nope no problem at all.”

“Excellent. And, by the way, wear something, comfortable.” He says over the phone. You frown.

“Comfortable?” You question.

“Yeah. Comfortable.” He replies.

In hindsight you should have thought this through. You should have seen this coming, since men are disappointing and so vile. And you even know that you’re an idiot for agreeing.

So you do, and end the call.

6:45 comes faster than you thought it would. Your finger presses the door bell, and as you look around the neighborhood he’s in, the only thing you can think of? This dude is in a completely different tax bracket than you.

As for the comfortable clothing, you opted for some leggings and a long sleeve tee shirt that accidentally accentuates your waist and chest. You didn’t think anything of it. Did you think $1200 an hour was a bit off? Totally. But the guy was probably desperate for someone to clean this enormous house up.

You’re completely wrong.

The large door creaks open, and you come to face a man, middle aged, with long dark hair that seems to be tied in the back. A man bun? Really. You don’t say anything about it. Instead you smile and give the classic:

“Hi! You had a cleaning scheduled for 6:45?”

The words are bubbly and of course higher pitched. Like any customer service job, you’ve trained yourself to fake a smile and a friendly voice.

His rugged features surprise you. The way his jaw clenched and unclenched, his dark beard that grows on his face. The way his thin brown eyes trace over your body as he pressed his lips together. As if you were on display, only for him.

You couldn’t deny that he was handsome. But you’re not here for that. You’re here to work.

Are you?

“Yeah, you’ll do.” The man nods and allows you to enter his domain.

What the fuck did that mean? You don’t allow him to see the way your eyebrows scrunch up at his remark.

His house that reeks of modern contemporary architecture, the bachelor pad vibes were insane in this place. Regardless, the home seemed almost empty, even though it wasn’t. The vast size of it makes it so every little noise is able to bounce off the walls.

“Do you want something to drink?” Your new boss asks. He looks down at you with little to no expression on his handsome features. Despite the lack of emotion, a tinge of determination lingers in his narrowed brown eyes. “Call me John, by the way. Mister Wick will make me feel like a senior citizen.”

You just laugh. He already knows your name. Of course he does, why didn’t you expect otherwise? That temp agency definitely gave it to him.

“John it is.” You test out the name on your tongue; the simplicity of it is so right for him.

But something doesn’t sit right with you. It’s as if your body is subconsciously ringing all of the woman alarms that you should listen to.

Oh but you could use the cash! It’s the uneasy pit in your gut that churns and twists, attempting to pry yourself out of the situation.

Of course you ignore it.

“Right. So. There’s this particular spot I need help cleaning.” John’s hand guided you by the small of your back, you didn’t even notice how close he was standing to you. As if John were nothing but a ghost in the wind.

He leads you right in the living room, where a large crimson stain has set itself into the oak flooring. Your eyes widen, instinctively backing away, forgetting that John was directly behind you. Your shorter body runs into his, and he sets his strong hands on your shoulders.

Oh my god. A serial killer hired you. Or at least a murderer. The sheer size of the blood stain definitely was a fatal amount to lose. It’s as if someone had taken a liter of blood and dumped it onto his expensive flooring.

“I’m sure you can understand why this is such a lucrative deal, right?” John’s voice rumbled into your right ear. Chills trickle down your spine, caused simply from his touch and his murmur. But this is bad. You need to leave. You can’t just clean up murder messes for a living!

“I, I don’t know if I can-“

“Oh I know you can. Say, are you a good multi-tasker?” John asked, his grip on your shoulders becoming a bit tighter. It feels possessive almost. You should have listened to your woman warnings your body gave you.

Your canine teeth dig into your soft tongue.

“I mean, yeah.” You squeak out to answer the man who’s paying you. A throaty laugh leaves his mouth.

“Oh, good to hear.”

The scent of his cologne enters your nose. Tobacco, ginger, cocoa even. It’s intoxicating, the way his smell lingers in the air; and how it’ll imprint itself onto your own clothes and skin. You can’t let this man’s Dior Sauvage distract you from getting the fuck out of this house.

“Listen, I don’t-“

“2156, 45rd Avenue. Apartment 5. Right?” John suddenly asks. Those chills that ran down your spine seem to be more sinister than you initially realized. You turn around and glare up at him.

“How do you know that?” You immediately question him with a brash voice.

John lets out a deep chuckle, his handsome smile is so stupid. You don’t want to be attracted to him.

“You should take the job. I could buy your building, your rent could go down significantly.” John smirked down at your trembling form. “But, I’ll need you to be good at more than just cleaning.” His voice grumbles into your ear. His hot breath sticks to your neck. His voice is deep and almost off putting, in a good way. God the way he speaks. The way he looks you over with those pretty brown eyes.

Your mouth lets out a gasp as you suddenly feel his large hand reach around and grab one of your breasts. His unwanted touch feels like fire against your clothing. Your body tries to squirm.

“Shh, dear, let me touch you. I like it more if there’s less of a reaction.” John whispered, you feel his erection grow as he presses his groin into your ass.

“Woah, WOAH!” You yell, shoving him away. Surprisingly he backs away, with his hands in the air. There’s a smirk that plays on his rugged face, as he bites his tongue and lets his eyes devour your body.

“Really? You want to refuse me? Do you know who I am, little girl?” John chuckled, taking a few steps forward.

“You know what? I think I’m good on the job, you’re a fucking weirdo.” Is all you have to say to that. His rugged face has the meanest scowl you have ever seen in your life.

The tension in the air is so uncomfortable, and you want to punch yourself for not listening to your gut. The churning. The accelerated heart rate.

This was all wrong, that creepy temp agent had set you up with some gig that was clearly not legitimate in the slightest, of course it was too good to be true. Men only want one thing, and you don’t know how you didn’t manage to connect the dots.

You grimace at the thought of what he just did to you as your legs sprint towards the door.

“Not so fast, little one.” John growls, it seems he’s got you pinned against his entryway door. Your face is pressed against the wood, and you cry out in pain from the abrupt slam of your body.

“What if I bought your apartment building, and raised your rent? That’s why you have this job, right? That’s why a pretty thing like you waltzed into that temp agency and expected some help. God, I’m glad that agent sent me a picture. Do you know how much I came looking at your confused face?” John huffs out, biting his lip and moaning at the thought. His brown eyes roll to the back of his head for a split second as he recalls the orgasm he had, just thinking about you.

When he was hunched over in his shower, canines digging cuts into his bottom lip and drawing blood as John fucked into his balled up fist. When he whimpered your name like a pathetic needy bitch, the noise bouncing off of the bathroom walls to remind him of what a sick piece of shit he is. The mere idea of him taking advantage of a woman in a predicament like this made his balls ache in excitement. His toes would curl on the wet bathtub floor just imagining you being his good little fuck toy.

The ragged tone in his breath and voice make John sound desperate, deprived even.

“God I want you to swallow my cum so bad, I bet you’d look like a good girl, taking me in your mouth, huh? You wanna swallow daddy’s load?”

You elbow him right in the chest, but fall to the wooden floor while you do so. Too bad you’ve always been a clumsy bitch.

You groan as the pain shoots up your spine. And you panic. This absolute dilf of a man was a freak! And by the looks of all of that blood on his floor, a monster. A serial killer maybe! What the fuck was the point of listening to all of those podcasts if you didn’t take the god damn hints John had shown several times?!

John doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around your waist, lifting you up as you kick, scream, struggle, he even gives your left asscheek a swift smack just for fun. You let out a yelp.

“Here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to go into the other room, and I’m going to buy your building. All I have to do is make a call. And you, cutie, get to make a decision.” John chuckled. “You leave, and I’ll have a group of men take out all of your shit from your place; and replace your doorknobs. Or,” John grabs your waist, your hand swats him away as you give him a glare. John sighs and gives you a smile, ruffling your hair with his large hand. “Or you let me have my way with you; while you clean up my little mess. And you won’t have to worry about paying a thing ever again.” John whispers. The man takes a step back, biting his lip at the sight of you being scared of him, before leaving and going into the other room.

You groan, tears brim your eyes as you contemplate your choices. Seeing the vast wealth displayed by just his household furnishings, you figured he wasn’t bluffing. The sting from holding back the cry hurts like a bitch, realizing you have no choice in the matter.

“God dammit.” You mumble, grabbing the cleaning supplies. You can’t help but wonder how the hell this much blood got on this asshole’s floor anyhow. Maybe you didn’t want to know. Either way, baking soda would do the trick here; with some water and dishwasher fluid.

So you get to work, scrubbing and finishing away the blood stain from the wooden floor. It wasn’t nearly as easy as it sounded.

Your stomach churned as you hear him approaching, his Oxford shoes clicking on the ground.

“Oh, good girl.” John snickered from above, you looked up at him with an icy stare, only to see something you certainly didn’t expect.

John and his hand, expertly stroking his hard cock to the sight of you cleaning.

John’s a good size. Bigger than average. Not something straight out of some unrealistic porn video online. The 7 inch long and slightly girthy dick in his grasp twitched, while it dripped precum from the pink shaded tip.

You start to feel something stir in you. This is wrong. You know it’s wrong. But fuck. His lip bite, the way he stroked himself to the sight of you, it’s not like he was ugly or anything. Quite the opposite.

He’s everything every woman dreams about in a man. Dark, brooding, with chiselled features and a symmetrical face. His olive skinned forehead is slick with sweat, definitely from being all hot and bothered at the sight of lil’ ol’ you.

Realistically, there could be worse out there to have fuck you.

“No no, little one. Keep cleaning,” John takes in a sharp breath. “Don’t mind me. Just pretend that this is normal, don’t be distracted. This will be your new normal. You’ll do various tasks around my house, and you let me touch you however I want.”

Now despite what your brain is telling you, the churning in your stomach drifts into butterflies. This isn’t right. In fact, it’s fucking vile. But why is your breath caught in your throat? Why does your head feel like it’s spinning?

You’re too much in your head at the moment, and you don’t notice the sound of a switchblade opening. With one quick motion, you can feel your leggings slice open. Before you have time to gasp, next comes your thong, he’s cutting the fabric and peeling it from your body.

John pressed the soaked cloth to his large nose, taking in a deep breath to get a whiff of your essence. Chills run down his spine as he grows even harder, your pure femininity smells absolutely divine to him.

“Oh you’re so wet for me, you like this, don’t you? You bad fucking girl,” he laughs. Your yelp escaped your dry lips as one of his long fingers swiped your moist entrance, pushing one in to test the waters. Your soft grunt of surprise and disdain covers your pleasure as you continue to try to clean up this stupid blood stain on the wooden floor.

You have to wonder, what the fuck happened here? Your mind goes haywire, imagining the man behind you potentially taking a life in the very spot that you’re in. How did he do it? A gunshot wound? Cutting someone’s throat? Torture? Tying them up by their feet to hang upside down, only to stab their jugular and letting gravity do its job? And why exactly are you thinking of it while John adds another finger, pumping the long calloused digits into your soaking cunt.

You catch yourself backing up against him, moaning a bit as you bite your lip to punish yourself for it. You’re not supposed to like this! What the fuck are you doing?

A suit jacket is tossed aside out of the corner of your eye, as a deep throaty chuckle echoes from the walls of his large house.

“Oh? So I’m right. You do like it.” John chuckles, pulling his fingers out. You let out a whine, almost angry that he would stop fingering you all of a sudden. John slaps your folds with the tip of his cock just for fun.

Your whine is replaced with a sharp squeal, his large hands grip the roots of your messy hair, pulling your head back as his fat tip eases into your pussy. The burn of your head and the burn of his dick throws you in a loop, especially at the sight of John.

John. This perverted, sick and despicable example of a human being, who’s eyes look so soft as he inches in and out of you. There’s a wicked smirk on his face when your eyes shoot to his lips, nothing that the cut up remains of your thong are in his mouth.

And you’re not sure if it’s hot or nasty. The obscene view of him damn near chewing on your underwear has you… well, fucked up. But it’s the way he begins to snap his hips against your ass that makes you forget about it. The other hand whacks your right asscheek, earning another yelp from you.

“You’re a fucking pig!” you sputter out, trying your best to show absolutely revulsion to the way he’s fucking you.

John can see through you like a piece of cling wrap.

You’re not making any progress in cleaning the blood stain, as he thrusts harder into you. You mew loudly while he takes his hand in your hair and instead presses your pretty little face into the floor. Your cheeks and nose throb as scratches embed themselves into your skin, as if you hardly notice. The way John’s cock feels as he has his way with your fluttering cunt is too good to even put into words. You have to remind yourself to breathe while he speaks to you.

“Fuck, you take me so well, princess. I didn’t take you for a good little slut, who’s my slut?”

Gritting your teeth, his tip brushed your cervix, and that will certainly give you an aching feeling tomorrow. You don’t want to admit anything to this monster. But his fist tightens at the roots of your hair, sending pain down your scalp right as his other hand reaches your clit and draws quick circles on it.

“I asked you something, sweetheart. Now fucking answer me.”

“I’m your slut! I’m your slut!” You repeat out, shame fills your belly as you give in to John’s desires, and he giggles in return.

“What an obedient girl you are.” John praises, his thrusts become slower, more passionate even, as if he’s rewarding you for answering him. Somehow, the slower and more sensual movement of his dick feels even better, especially with John incorporating those finger movements on your clit.

“Stop fuckin’ cleanin’, you’re doing a shit job anyway.” John grunts, swatting the brush out of your tiny hands and flipping your body over like a ragdoll. I mean, he’s not wrong, he just doesn’t have to be a dick about it.

“You think you can take me? You’ve been doin’ a good job so far. Better than cleaning, you got a talent for letting me fuck you like this.” John’s words are almost garbled and incoherent but you’re too afraid to shake your head. Before you can even respond, he shoves your cut up panties into your mouth, covering your lips with those calloused large hands, much to your dismay.

You muffle loudly, an attempted “What the fuck?!”, but he only snickered before pumping his cock back into your cunt, lifting your legs so your ankles could have resembled earmuffs on him. Your eyes roll back. He’s so fucking deep, John’s hand moved from your mouth to your throat, restricting your oxygen intake by squeezing as he fucks into you. Using you as his little play thing. Your sticky sweat coated flesh smacks against another, sending the sound throughout the house, along with your softened moans and whimpers.

“Your cunt belongs to me. Got it, bitch?” John asks, these things he is saying to you are fucking terrible, but you can’t help but be excited when they come out. You nod and bite down on what used to be your thong as he continued to rub your wet nub and fuck you hard. Your sharp fingernails dub themselves into his bare thighs, which will definitely leave marks later.

John hisses, but continues plowing into you nonetheless.

“Cum for me. Do it before I change my mind.” John ordered. Say less.

He didn’t have to ask you twice. While your eyes cross, your pussy pulses around his dick, as you become undone under him. Your walls flutter and you whimper loudly, your climax unraveling and finally giving you that oh so satisfying release. John grunts over you.

“That’s it, cum for me, who’s making you cum?” He asks.

“You are! Shit- you are, John,” you mumble into your underwear as your cock drunk state leaves you unable to adjust your body.

John laughs at your undoing, pulling your thong out of your teeth and slipping out of your cunt. It doesn’t take long for him to use his immense strength to lift you up onto your knees, as he gives his slick cock a few jerks with his hand.

“Open.”

In a state of euphoria, you don’t question the man who just gave you a mind blowing orgasm. Your lips part, and he bites his lip as the tip of his dick reached the back of your throat. Your eyes widen as he moans, fingers gripping into your hair once more as he fucks into your mouth a bit more. It doesn’t take long before he climaxed, spurts of cum that you’re forced to take and swallow, like the naive little thing you are.

The things a girl will do to make sure rent is paid in full.

The next few days are certainly something. There are scratches on your face and some light bruising here and there on your body from your, ahem, shift, with John the other night. A male coworker even asked if you had a sprained ankle or something from the way you were walking into the office the next morning.

How embarrassing.

And now you find yourself, checking your mail and getting your rent bill in for the upcoming month. You roll your eyes, tearing the envelope open as your little dog jumps up on your leg, excited that you have arrived home. You aimlessly scratch his head, setting the invoice on your kitchen counter before feeding your pet a scoop of food, and grabbing the checkbook.

It’s almost like it slipped your mind that John had actually acquired your apartment building.

John does many things, but he doesn’t bluff.

Your eyes scan the piece of paper as it hits you like a brick.

Thank you for your business. Please send your payment of: $0.00 by March 1st, 2024.

What the fuck?

The stack of a few thousand dollars stares at you from your desk, and you swallow the lump in your throat. Your mouth dries up when the words in scribbled writing at the bottom read:

See you next week, pretty girl.

xoxo, J.

[konigbabe]

the taste of scotch

Pairing: John Price x f!reader

Word count: 2.2k

Tags/Warnings: nsfw; smut; top!price; dom!price; alcohol; manhandling; rough sex; p-in-v sex; oral sex; orgasm delay/denial; breathplay

Summary: John Price enjoys two of his favorite things on Earth...you and Scotch.

masterlist • faq • AO3 • ko-fi

"Told ya to lay still, baby," he groans, lips latching on your pulsating neck as he grounds himself into you. Your walls clench, the wetness of your core pooling inside your panties as you wiggle your backside into him.

The amount of pleasure indulging your body keeps rising. Your arms give up in the process, making your face slam right into the pillows at the same time as John slams into you.

His fingertips follow the natural curve of your spine, all his weight nonchalantly resting on your naked thighs as he straddles you. His cold breath on the lower of your back sends shivers right to where you crave him the most.

A breathless moan escapes your parted lips as you feel the liquor hit your skin, soon enough followed by the scraping of John's tongue as he laps at the drops of scotch sliding alongside the curve of your spine, making you arch your back for him.

His name leaves your mouth as he tugs at your hair, making you throw your head back and arch your back even more, your ass pressing into his already hard cock still hidden underneath his underwear.

"Told ya to lay still, baby," he groans, lips latching on your pulsating neck as he grounds himself into you. Your walls clench, the wetness of your core pooling inside your panties as you wiggle your backside into him.

"John," you exhale, rotating your head towards his, "just fuck me already."

Price's right hand squeezes your love handle, digging into your flesh roughly, leaving red prints afterward. His lips form a wicked smile. He chuckles and sits back straight, reaching for the glass of scotch on the bedside table.

"Look at you," you hear him murmur, mostly for himself as he watches how the full moon is illuminating your figure, "so fuckin' perfect."

He takes a sip, feeling the burn on his tongue. Your body is on fire, awaiting his touch. You crave to feel every inch of him, to trace the curves of his body the same way he's doing it to you.

His hand slides from your hair as he moves back, taking his weight off your legs.

"Turn around," he states firmly. Your body is already ahead of your brain and the next thing you know, his hips ground into your aching crotch as your legs rest on top of his thighs. Legs spread wide, his hand rests next to your head as he looks into your eyes, the glass of scotch still present in his other hand.

His eyes are dark with desire, his breath hot on your face as his lips meet yours. Nothing about the kiss is romantic. It's messy...greedy. His tongue forces its way into your mouth, tangling with yours as you taste the alcohol still slightly present in his mouth.

Your legs sneak around his waist in a vigorous attempt to bring him closer to you. John's fingers interlace with yours. For a second, he gives in and thrusts into you, his cock, still covered by the fabric of his underwear, hitting your clit deliberately. His chest rumbles with a satisfied groan as you moan into the kiss.

John's the first to pull away but you don't want him to, following his lips before he's too far from you. You shamelessly continue to dry hump him as his lips trace the front of your neck. He places a sloppy kiss on your collarbone before you feel him spill a little bit of his liquor between your collarbones, sucking the alcohol from your burning body.

The tension continues building in your stomach as you near your first orgasm. Bringing your chest into his, your fingers scrape his naked back. Digging your heels into his thighs, his name leaves your lips like a prayer.

Closing your eyes, you throw your head back, mouth open in a silent scream. Then there's...emptiness. John's heat leaves your body as he pulls away, stopping your actions.

"What the fuck," you look at him.

"Open your mouth," he says firmly, hovering over you. Your brain is still foggy from orgasm deprivation as you keep looking at his smug face.

"You don't want me to repeat myself, baby."

Without much question, you open your mouth. He smiles, the same smile you've seen thousand times, the smile that made you fall in love with this man over and over again, without his own knowledge. His thumb traces your parted lips before he brings his glass over your face, silently signaling you his next move.

Your mouth burns as the rest of his liquor pools inside your lips. Putting the now empty glass on the table, John nods as he watches you waiting for his next command.

"That's a good girl," he whispers as his hand rests on your thigh, "now swallow."

You do as you're told, feeling the warm liquid make its way down your throat.

"Now that deserves a fuckin' reward," he brings his head down to your exposed breasts, kissing your shivering skin before latching on your aching nipple.

"John," you moan, fingers already twisting his hair. He allows you to grind on him again, his hand slowly sliding up your body. His hips thrust to meet your movement as precum leaks through his boxers, meeting the wet spot on your panties.

The roughness of his beard scrapes the delicate skin of your breasts as John switches to give attention to your other nipple. He angles his hips so his cock hits your clit perfectly again. The tension in your stomach is back within seconds.

"Fuck yourself on me," he mumbles against your skin and stops thrusting, making your walls clench. Not holding back anymore, you shamelessly use his body for your own pleasure as he continues to give his undivided attention to your chest.

The room is filled with the scent of sex as your movements speed up.

"John," your interlaced fingers dig into his hand, leaving crescent marks on the top of his hand, "I'm gonna...fuck...I'm-"

Your legs tighten around his waist in anticipation but his torment of your body doesn't stop. Biting down on your nipple, he brings his hand onto your stomach, holding you down.

"Don't you dare think about cumming just yet," he murmurs and pulls away an inch, his lips tracing the curves of your chest, "not done with you yet," he says between the kisses.

The hand on your stomach moves to lay flat against the wet spot on your panties, his palm resting on your painfully swollen clit.

"Please," you beg him, feeling the wetness of his mouth trace the top of your underwear.

"I want to cum, John," you whine shamelessly.

"On my tongue only," he looks up at you the moment you look down. The sight of his face between your legs, lips swollen from all the kissing makes your head spin.

A plea leaves your lips. High on the scent of your readiness for him, John kisses the inside of your thighs before finally taking your already-drenched panties off, leaving you naked and ready for taking.

You feel like you just made it to heaven when his lips latch onto your bud of nerves, sucking roughly. His middle finger collects your wetness before making its way into you. His finger softly scrapes your gummy walls. His beard scrapes your inner thighs and he adds a second, then the third finger.

"God, you’re so fucking wet, baby," he scissors his fingers, opening you up. He curls them inside you, hitting your spot with the precision of a sniper. His name continues to spill from your lips as he works his magic on you, bringing you to your overdue orgasm.

Your thighs close him in, keeping his head between your legs as your walls continue contracting. His fingers are soon replaced by his tongue as he laps at your wetness hungrily.

His eyes take in the sight of you - your back arched gently, head thrown back with a silent scream leaving your throat, eyes shut, fingers aggressively gripping at anything in your close proximity - be it the side of your bed, the sheets, or his hair. He feels like he could easily cum just by the way you look at this very moment.

As you crash from your high, your legs fall onto the bed tiredly. A satisfied sigh escapes your lips. You open your eyes the moment you feel the wet head of his cock rest on your pulsating clit.

He's looking at your face, his eyes studying the perfection lying underneath him.

"Hand and knees," he rasps. You watch your juices glisten on his beard as he speaks, the image already burned inside your brain forever.

"I don't think I can take that," you exhale.

His lips turn into a wicked smile.

"That wasn't a question, baby," he shakes his head. Next thing you know, his hands are on your hips as he easily manhandles you into the position. His knees nudge your legs apart as you brace yourself.

The head of his cock traced your opening before he slams into you, his tight grip on your waist being the only thing holding you in place. It feels like he knocked the air out of your lungs as he continues the brutal pace of slow withdrawing with sharp and hard thrusting back in.

"That's it," he grunts, his hips creating noise as they slap against your ass, "you're taking me so fuckin' prettily."

The amount of pleasure indulging your body keeps rising. Your arms give up in the process, making your face slam right into the pillows at the same time as John slams into you. His balls slap your thighs with each thrust as he slows down, one hand sliding up your back and resting between your shoulder blades.

Burying himself to the brim, you feel the head of his cock press against your walls, filling you up completely. He leans forward, his trusts shallow as he reaches for the bottle of scotch, pouting a little into his glass. You turn your head to watch him pour himself one before bringing the glass to his lips.

Meeting his thrusts halfway, he takes a sip of the liquor while watching his cock getting swallowed by your needy cunt.

"I could spend the rest of my life buried inside you, love," he rumbles, taking another sip as you continue to fuck yourself on his cock.

"C´mere," his hand moves from your shoulder blades to wrap itself around your neck gently as he brings you up. Your back is flush against his chest and you feel his auburn hair. You rest your head back on his shoulder as he slows his thrusts, barely moving. Bringing the glass of scotch to your lips, you swallow when he pours the rest of the glass into your mouth and watches you take it all.

"You're so hot like this."

His lips latch onto yours in a hungry, alcohol-filled kiss as he puts the empty glass down. His hand sneaks to your clit, swirling his fingers around as he picks up the pace again, ready to finish what he started.

You brace yourself against the headboard as John slams into you, his tongue never leaving your mouth. He feels your walls tightening around his cock, desperately searching for that desired high.

He swallows your moans as he continues to build your orgasm, the head of his cock nudging your spot with each thrust. His hand tightens around your throat when you try to pull away.

Soon enough, you're not able to kiss him no more as the pleasure builds even more, only a short string of saliva connecting your lips as you moan and gasp, your brain too worn out to form a single word.

You reach your high the moment his hand leaves your neck to twist your nipple, mouth pressed against your temple as his breathing speeds up. John picks up the pace, fucking you relentlessly through your orgasm as he can feel your walls clenching tightly around his cock.

"You're so fuckin' pretty when you come on my cock like that," he says against your skin, sending shivers down your back. You grip the headboard even tighter. Too exhausted to cooperate, he moves his hands to your hips, bringing your hips back to meet his thrusts.

His pace becomes sloppy, indicating his near end. His balls tighten, his grunts growing louder, sometimes turning into moans as he shamelessly uses your body to bring himself to an orgasm. The moment he's buried inside you to the hilt, he stiffens and his grip loosens. Almost a primal grunt leaves his lips that are still pressed against your temple as he fills you up.

"John," you finally manage to say his name as he stays pressed flush against you, his softening cock still deep inside.

"You're so good to me," he kisses your jawline before you turn to face him, connecting your lips. The kiss is slow and sloppy, both of your bodies too tired to do any work.

He slips out of you, making you moan at the sudden emptiness within you. He finally lies down on his back as you place your hand on his chest, fingers playing with his chest hair, his chest rising up and down gently as you watch him reach for the bottle of his scotch and pour himself another glass.

[ruskaroma]

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.

[feinv]

John Wick x fem!reader pleaseeee 🥺 angst angst angst

turned out longer than planned. hope u like it bby <3

john wick x female!reader. fluff. angst. mentions of wounds. reader can’t stand up for herself bear with her.

he has been taking more jobs lately, more often than not getting out of bed at an early hour when the sun was just peeking over the horizon, and coming back well past midnight, leaving you all by yourself in the walls of your big mansion.

you were on the couch, legs crossed as you watched him put on his bulletproof vest before packing his body with guns, rifles, and knives. you could already feel the tears threatening to burst, but decided to speak up anyway. “could you stay?”

his head snapped towards you, stopping in his actions, “what?”

“n-not right now i mean…in general. could you stay home more? you are always away…” you explained, fighting everything in you not sound like a fool, whispering the last part more to yourself than him.

his eyes went back to his firearms as he continued getting ready, “you knew what my job was when we started dating. don't act like i blindsided you,” sounding like a harsh statement.

oh. you were taken aback by his serious tone, unsure how to react since he never talked to you like that before. but again, you didn’t really engage in an actual conversation with him this past month, so it was hard to say if he was acting unlike him or exactly like him.

“why are you complaining now?” you flinched at his harsh tone, snapping out of your thoughts, "my work takes up a lot of my time, and you were aware of that,” circling around to get his full magazines, “I can't just drop everything for you,” annoyance dripping from his voice.

your eyes were following his movements, immediately focusing at something else when he looked back at your figure. “i know that. but that doesn’t mean i can’t want more time with you. is that too much to ask for?” you anxiously fidgeted with your fingers, silent tears now streaming down your face.

john felt a tingle of empathy for you, but his anger and defensiveness got the best of him, and he retorted, “don’t guilt trip me for doing my job.”

“can you just…take one or two a week?” your face etched with pain and frustration, voice cracking as that lump in your throat just won’t let go.

“my reputation is on the line here. taking days off isn't practical," he dismissed you, closing the locks of his artillery filled case.

“please, john. just hear me ou-”

“no,” he cut you off spitefully, heading towards the door and muttering “don’t stay up for me,” before slamming it shut, unbearable solitude enveloping you once again.

3:17 am

naturally you would’ve been asleep by now, but you couldn’t stop wetting the pillows after your fight, turning and tossing around in the bed, trying to doze off, but nothing could help.

you heard the tires of his mustang drift against the gravelly porch of your house, followed by the sound of the front door opening, then closing.

you could hear him pouring himself a glass of bourbon and crashing down on a couch with a heavy sigh. having memorized all his routines, you knew he wasn’t the one to drink after job unless he needed a painkiller. and despite him shattering your heart today, it still ached with worry. you got out of the covers and took the first aid kit from the bathroom before slowly making your way to the living area.

you stood there, like an awkward child, contemplating if you should just drop it and leave him like he left you, or following your heart. you settled on the latter. he heard your footsteps before your form came into his vision, craning his neck to acknowledge your presence, dark eyes scanning your body as you approached him, straddling his lap and opening up the kit.

his face was littered with wounds, some not too serious, others cut quite deeply, his once slicked backed hair disheveled with a few strands covered in dried blood.

with a trembling sigh leaving your chest, you started working on cleaning his face, dabbing it gently with alcohol dipped cotton ball.

“told you not to stay up,” he murmured before eliciting a wince at one of the deep cuts. your cheeks were wet again, and you didn’t even know why were you crying anymore. because he was hurting? because he hurt you?

it didn’t matter as his thumb wiped at your soft skin, his deep voice whispering in the dark, “i’m sorry.”

you stayed silent the entire time, refusing to squeal a sound at the fear of making a total clown out of yourself.

“i’m sorry, sweetheart. i’m an idiot,” he continued, his other hand gently caressing your thigh, “don’t cry because of me,” which made you break down completely, stopping your actions and burying your face in his chest.

he wrapped his arms around you, holding you as you weeped, rubbing your back in soothing circles. “i’ll do as you wish. i promise,” he stated in your ear, whispering i love you as you cried yourself to sleep in his strong embrace.

[persephone411]

What do you think would be John Wick's kinks?

A bit rushed, but still longer than originally planned. Hope you like it

John wicks kinks

Dominance/Submission

I generally think that John would enjoy a dom/sub dynamic inside (and maybe outside) of the bedroom. He loves how beautiful you look up at him once he orders you to get on your knees for him. He loves how you obey, ready to do anything he wants. His favourite pet names for you during a session would be little one or princess.

Brat taming

although he is a calm, gentle dom most of the time, he does enjoy some brat taming from time to time, using a more firm voice and especially controlling you with his eyes and facial expressions. He never screams or looses control. That’s what makes him so scary. One look and you knew you messed up and get better ready for a punishment.

Size kink

He would love a short partner and he would become insanely protective. He would love just to see you two together in a mirror, him towering over you while his large hand covers your entire stomach. And in the bedroom ? Prepare yourself to get manhandled. John will fuck you in every possible position while his large hands hold you down. Oh and he absolutely loves the view of his cock in comparison to your tiny torso

light breath play

For him Choking you during sex would be about control and dominance. He would never hurt you without your full consent and he would only choke you with his hands.

Seduction

Not really a kink but John lives for slow seduction, whether it is you wearing a dress with a high leg slit or you giving him a slow sensual lap dance. For him the seduction is half of the fun.

Light bondage + blindfolds

He just loves you seeing you absolutely helpless at his mercy. He will cover your eyes with a silken blindfold and tie your arms over your head. Then the real fun will begin. He will edge you for an eternity, enjoying watching you squirm whine ans beg for the slightest touch

Lingerie

I’ve already made a few posts about it, But John loves seeing his partner in expensive and delicate lingerie, especially if he paid for it or you suprise him with a new set after a stressful job. He will definitely be the type of man who pushes the panties to the side and not even undress you for the first round. I also think that he would find these crotchless panties with the pearl string very interesting

The same goes for sleepwear. Of course his possessive side loves it when you sleep in one of his oversized shirts, but he also loves all the lacy and silky nightgowns or baby dolls you wear to bed, so it makes sense that his favourite bedtime outfit of yours would be one of his shirts and a pair of feminine lace panties underneath.