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#jw
rxin3akamallory · 2 days
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Draw your comfort characters like this prompt thingy
So I finally got around to doing this prompt. I wanted to for a while but never got around until now. As much as I wanted to I unfortunately couldn’t include Gill from Finding Nemo :c
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Og prompt:
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Base I used:
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wayward-delver · 2 years
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Baby Tyrannosaurus Rex and its father at the beach.
Prehistoric Planet (2022) airing on May 23
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ruskaroma · 10 months
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could you do a little drabble of an au of the reader and jw on their wedding night and tbe reader is like pure and naive and loosing her virginity to john 🤭🤍🪷
oh my god.. can i shake this up a little bit?
arranged marriage with john wick.
let’s say you’re the only child of a very powerful mob syndicate, and all your parents wanted is the best for you, so they don’t want you going around fucking with other guys that are below they’re status because it might ruin the reputation they’ve worked so hard to achieve.
so they kept you isolated.
you’re homeschooled, the only friends you have are the maids, the children of those maids and gardeners, you rarely go outside – and if you do, you have a bunch of bodyguards following you around everywhere you go.
of course, you don’t question it. you know your parents only want the best for you, and you know how dangerous it is to live in a world like this. you can’t exactly blame your parents.
when you turned 20, your father introduced you to a man named john wick.
he’s the definition of tall, dark, and handsome you keep reading about in the books. late forties or mid fifties, you don’t exactly know. you just know that he’s a lot older and probably knows better.
your father had explained how you’re going to be marrying john and you were beyond ecstatic upon hearing the news. having a companion in life could open up to so many different opportunities. it didn’t matter that you just met this man. there’s so much time to learn about each other as you two plan for the wedding.
you didn’t ask your parents why they’re suddenly letting you marry a man because simply don’t care. too naïve for your own good. you didn’t know that your parents are only paying their debt to john and you were the only thing in their life that they could just simply give away.
fast forward to the night of your wedding day, let’s say that you aren’t expecting john to be so... rough during your lovemaking.
his actions are rough but his words are soft. it’s confusing you. you thought honeymoons are supposed to be sweet and slow, yet here you are getting fucked on the bed like some kind of cheap whore as john pulls your hair from behind and whispers filthy praises in your ear like there’s no tomorrow.
“my pretty little wife,” john grunts, snapping his hips against your ass, burying his cock so far deep into your little cunt that you could feel it in your stomach. you drool, stumbling over your words. “my wife got the best pussy – so fucking tight and pink. i bet you’ve never let anyone touch you like this before, hm? only me? only your husband?”
“y-yes – yes, john, o-only you!” you sob, clutching the bedsheets in your first as your pussy clench around his dick. “f-feel so full, j-john, feel s-so full – so big.”
“that means you’re doing a great job, baby,” he praises, letting go of your hair to drop his head on your neck, peppering kisses all over as his beard tickles your skin. “my little wife is taking my cock so well. you’re gonna have to get used to it, baby, because i can assure you that i’ll be fucking your sweet little cunt every single day that i come back home. gonna get you so nice and full again like this.”
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beansricejc · 2 months
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THE CLIENT - John Wick x F!Reader
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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!
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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wiinterz · 2 months
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once lost, now found | john wick
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pairing: john wick x black plus size fem!reader
genre: established relationship, one-shot
warnings: canon!john, typical violence, kidnapped!reader, physical violence, character death, angst, fluff
word count: 1.5k
summary: being in the crossfire of john’s old life, there’s a realization that he’ll always pick you over anything and anyone in his life; himself included.
☏ ᴛᴀʏ’s ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛs: old one-shot!
recs | taglist | help hub | keanu reeves m.list
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PATTERS OF RAIN HIT against a tin can that was laid on a concrete slab. The moon’s crescent-shaped the city into one walking circle. And street lights flickered as sounds of drunks, cars, and sobers moved around to find somewhere they could call home.
Chestnut-colored eyes peeked at a nearby building, white paint completely blocked out with graffiti, and cigarettes crushed up and tossed on the floor. Feeling your tired body being dragged to the empty building, your stomach turns as your bottom eyelashes catch your slipping tears, making sure they stayed on your waterline as the peculiar man had closed your mouth with tape. Your hands and legs were roped up, your body resting on the stranger’s left shoulder as he grumbled about your man, John. 
Hearing his grating voice complain about John, and how stupid he is to have a woman knowing his job takes anything pure from him. Your chest raises high and fast, trying to keep yourself from freaking out as he places your body down on a metal chair, the coldness of the metal shocks your body, making you whimper. 
He makes a hoarse laugh, pulling the tape off your mouth as he stuffs a shirt in your mouth, forcing you to gag on it.
He pushed your chair against a metal table, sitting beside you as he picks up a bottle of water and drink it.
“Ora aspettiamo The Babayaga.” He lets out another laugh, sighing to himself as he drinks the water, his watch ticking for a show.
John was in the middle of slicing a man’s arm off in a closed clothing store, the lights still on as dead bodies piled up around him. The more he killed, the more they ran to him, only to be shot down by his gun. 
Anger riled his soul, hurt taking over in his eyes as his mind replayed the screams that left your mouth. He wondered how did you slip away from him in such little time?
Killing the last man as he placed a sword against his neck and his gun behind it, John shoots and pulls the sword back, watching the man fall to the floor, face hitting against someone’s dead body.
John’s hair was now messed up and wet with sweat and blood, his face had tiny splatters, some so close to his eye as his blue t-shirt and black pants became stained permanently. He had lots of wounds on him, the back of his shirt slightly ripped showing a large diagonal cut on him.
Picking up another gun, he checks to make sure there was enough ammo in it. Once he walks out of the shop, he grunts, feeling like he lost a huge part of himself and dignity as the night prolongs.
He could only think back to you, worrying if you were in pain, if you were bruised or cut up. He could only imagine what he would do if he saw even a little paper cut on you by the man that caused this to happen.
His shoes scrape against the floor, knowing where to go. He knew deep in his heart who caused this, who betrayed his promise.
A groan escapes from his lips, his bloody hands falling to rest on the wall before he walks into the empty building. He stands there for a moment, regaining his strength and energy.
Once he breathes out heavily, John’s eyes ignite with despise as he hears a muffled laugh.
Making his way in, he pushes a door open down the long hallway, seeing a dim light create the ability to see. His heart stops in seconds, breath caught in his mouth as your eyelash lets a tear escape like a leaf letting a raindrop hit to another leaf.
There he stood, the man you fell in love with for a lifetime and more. He held a gun under his arm, his eyes soften at the sight of you. Your hair is a mess, your mouth is forced to bite against the shirt, and you sitting patiently and scared. 
He then looks at the man that sat beside you, looking at his expensive silver watch with gold in the middle. Silver-fox short hair, with skin pale as sand, fingernails clipped, his pinky finger long and slim as possible. His lips were light pink and plump and wrinkles appeared under his eyes as he smiled at John.
“So glad you could make it to the family dinner, Wick.” The man announces, a hearty laugh escaping his lips while John rolls his eyes, then looks back at you, motioning his fingers to see if you were okay. You motioned back to him a no, and he sighs.
“Giosuè,” is all he mutters out, keeping himself calm and collected as always as if you didn’t exist in the room. He had to do that, to keep you alive, to see you breathe. A fraction of his heart had been shut down from the death of Helen and the last thing he needed was to see you murdered; something that can be prevented.
Giosuè looks back at you, pushing your chin up a little, forcing you to stare at John while tears continue to fall, trickling to Giosuè’s fingers.
“Pretty girl, sad to see you like this.” He points out, moving his hand away as John squints a little, feeling his heart become slashed. 
“You see, you made a promise…that if and when you come back, I would be the first person to see you. You also promised me the killing of my brother and father, we made that promise when you were leaving home. To go to what? Normalcy? John Wick, The Babayaga…begs to find normalcy in a cold world, that he, made people fear him. Damn.”
Giosuè’s Italian accent comes out, standing from his chair, a gun resting in his back pocket, your eyes widened once you see it, alarming John.
“I’m mad now, because of you and your broken promises, my brother and father…hm whatever, you know the story.” He chuckles, sighing heavily once he finally reaches John, standing in front of him as John’s face stays relaxed, not a smirk, or a sign of worry.
John looks down at Giosuè and scoffs, “And you bring my girlfriend into your family affairs.” His voice showed no emotion, John went into a state you’ve never seen him in.
“She’s a pretty girl, and you know how I am…I like pretty things…I see pretty I take it.” Giosuè looks back at you and tilts his head with a smile. “You crying? John look she’s crying.” He lets out a maniacal laugh as he turns back to John whose eyes pierce your soul.
He had a different type of attitude when it came to your safety, your life before his, forever and always.
“Mmh.” The only thing that slips out from his lips, you continue to cry, trying to believe John will get you out of here safely. His hand pulls out a dart, one of the darts an assassin tried to use on him. Giosuè was too busy mocking you, calling you adorable for becoming hysterical in a situation like this.
John walks up behind Giosuè, the dart held between his index and middle fingers. He held his breath, making mental notes on how Giosuè moved his body.
As a ticking bomb, John’s fingers stifled Giosuè’s neck, the dart pushing into him. In hindsight, John hasn’t been sure if his plan would work out correctly. The only way to know was the outcome, and each ending dealt with you being freed.
Yet as Giosuè abruptly stopped taunting you, his hand quickly goes to behind his neck where John pulls the dart swiftly. Once he sees Giosuè's hand, he shoves the dart back in the middle of it, making Giosuè yell in terror. John then takes out a gun from behind him and shoots his spine, then Giosuè’s knee pit.
Giosuè’s body plummets down to the floor, and a terror of screams leaves his lips. His fingers scrape the floor, trying to crawl to you yet, John shoots him in the head, watching his body jolt a little.
John’s eyes dart back at you and puts up his gun while picking up Giosuè’s. You soaked the t-shirt with your saliva and tears, your dark brown skin bruise with purple and a bit of red from the tight bounds. Making his way to you, his right hand pulls your face up to him, he has tears ready to fall, yet he doesn’t.
His soul had become a cage of his nightmares, banging against his heart each time he saw you. If he could create heaven, he would simply make you the goddess of it. If he had a paint brush he would paint calligraphy and fill empty canvases of you and about you. His heart rang out for you, slipping into your hands and hoping you would restore whatever was taken away from it.
Taking a pocket knife out, John cuts the ropes off you, pulling the t-shirt out of your mouth as you could finally relax your jaw. His thumb comes across your face, catching pretty salts. Your breath pattern started to slowly go back to normal. Feeling his right hand pick up your wrist, he grunts at the makeshift bruises and cuts on your pretty skin.
“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.” He lets out a staggering breath, his voice almost getting caught in his throat. He rubbed your wrists, wrists that had fibers of straw in them. He brings up your right wrist to his lips and kisses it, taking up your other wrist he kisses it up to your shoulder. Looking back at you, his hands immediately wrap around you, holding you tightly as if he relives the time he was told Helen was dying.
You take a moment to wrap your arms around him and when you do, your body is in alarm from the pain that spikes you. You rest your head on his shoulder, allowing your body to be loose on him. Your tears soaked the wounds he earned.
You held onto Johnathan as if you both were at sea, bodies laid on a raft, and the ocean roared throughout the night with tides trying to pull you in a different direction.
John pulls away, looking at you with tears, your weakened hand rests on his cheek. Pulling him closer to you, you press your lips against his, holding him for a moment as your tears intertwine with his.
“I love you, I love you, I love you.” He repeats, his words getting stronger each time, making you believe it.
You lay your body on him, permitting him to pick you up bridal style. His eyes fixated on yours as his heart beats at the same rate as yours, finally back to normalcy again.
When he went too far he returned to the same man you fell in love with years ago. When you disappeared you came back as the goddess of his dreams, the one that lit the candles in his heart when they left.
John found his normalcy once again and this time, he promised to not fail like the last.
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knightgazes · 1 year
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DEATH'S VERY EMISSARY
John Wick IV dir. Chad Stahelski
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godshideouscreation · 2 months
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Rb for sample size
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ugh not to be one of those people who go around correcting people on the internet (except I guess I am—how embarrassing for me, sorry) but Jehovah’s Witness are a Christian denomination; they believe in Jesus as the Christ, and that salvation is only available though Jesus Christ, and are attempting to follow Jesus Christ’s instructions per their understanding of the Gospel—like, you don’t have to agree with their interpretations but they are in fact as much a Christian denomination as any other…
Hard, hard, pass anon. Jehovah's Witnesses do not believe that Jesus is God. Instead they believe Jesus is Michael the Archangel, a created being. That alone is enough to make their entire religion false. It cannot save you.
They also reject the personhood of the Holy Spirit. They believe that salvation comes through good works. They do not even believe that Jesus was crucified, but put on a stake. They don't believe that Jesus was bodily resurrected, but resurrected as a spirit. They have many other beliefs like progressive revelation that allows them to have their end times doomsday cult stuff. They believe only 144,000 people will ever make it into the true heaven.
Unfortunately on top of these heretical beliefs they also are a cult which is controlled by their Watchtower Organization which is highly controlling of JW's and elevates their own words to the status of the Bible. They use cult tactics to retain and recruit members. They encourage people to use shunning tactics against family members who left the group.
despite certain aesthetic and cultural (eg. conservative, moral) similarities to Christianity, they are not a legitimate denomination at all because they do not have the gospel and they don't worship Christ as God.
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onuatf · 7 months
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Jurassic Park is frightening in the dark
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queermania · 20 days
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What do you think it is that makes the brother's relationship with John so complicated?
hmmm. in the simplest terms: i think the worst thing a parent can do to their child is make them think they don't love them. the second worst thing they can do is make them think they don't like them. sam and dean knew their father loved them but they weren't ever sure if he liked them.
he loved them but.
he wanted them safe but.
he was keeping them alive but.
he would do anything for them but.
and so they love him back.
but.
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pink3princess19 · 6 months
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Hi! Could you do a small Drabble on John wick and the reader having a cutesie nighttime routine and the reader exfoliates his face and puts soothing lotion on him vice versa…🫣
tw/cw: john wick x reader, fluff
an: hii! sorry this took so long bookie :( hope this is alright! thank you for sending this is in! also this kind of took a little bit of a diff direction but hope its alright!
masterlist
“It tickles”
You sat on the counter of your shared bathroom as John stood between your legs, gently scrubbing his face with some sugar scrub. His eyes were closed and eyebrows pushed his face into a small frown.
The two of you had just gotten out of the shower, prepped and ready to do your nighttime routine.
John had never really had a night routine, expect for brushing his teeth and washing his face. After you had moved in, he had curiously asked what you were doing, what different creams or serums were for. Eventually, he just started copying whatever you did.
Not only did the routine slow his life down a little and ground him, but just having a little activity to do with you at night was enough to make him happy
After scrubbing for a good amount of time (and after some sugar got in johns mouth) you decided it was time to rinse it off.
"Alright your turn," he patted your leg as you handed over the scrub
His large, rough hands contrasted the way he gently touched your face. You giggled at the tickling sensation and how close john was to your face.
After washing it off, you spread drops of moisturizer around his face and into his skin. His eyes closed, enjoying the comfortable silence and basking in your love.
“I like how this one smells, it always reminds me of you sweetheart”
You roll your eyes from his cheesy comment, "You’re funny"
As soon as you finish, he’s dipping his fingers in the cool moisturizer, lightly dotting it around your face
He definitely took his time rubbing it into your skin , making sure to be as gentle as possible.
The room was so quiet, and with the lits dimmed low with John gently doting on you and , it felt like you could drift off to sleep right there and then.
“Alright sweetheart, all done”, he says as he lightly cups your face, pecking your cheek as his stubble brushes against your face.
After finishing up, you both tidied up the bathroom counter and headed to bed, clean and sleepy.
You snuggled into your pillow,
"Goodnight angel" he whispered, not wanting to disturb the quietness of the room.
You hummed in response, already half asleep (and mildly drooling on the pillow if i might add).
As he laid in bed next to you, eyes closed begging for sleep, he realized that this is the life he had always wanted. A quiet, peaceful, and soft life... and he finally had it, with you.
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lycheeloving · 11 days
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trying my hand at John Wick texts. broadening my horizons, etc
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justficsiguess · 3 months
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now that my long covid is back in full swing my thoughts keep coming back to yandere!John Wick speeding up the kidnapping process bc you get sick...
He tried to get to know you in a normal way, he promises! Or at least make it feel normal to you, he was stalking you, but you didn't need to know that. He was just a guy you "randomly" stumbled into at the cafe, the supermarket, the library... So you decide to exchange numbers because he's so pretty and charming!
You keep texting like normal while he's gone on what he says is a "business trip", but you neglect to tell him you're sick. Why would he need to know that, he's not even here, no need to worry him! But unfortunately when he gets back you're still not feeling better, maybe even worse, more fatigued/etc, so when he asks if you want to go on a date with him you have to decline. You'd love to go, but you can't, you can barely make it to the supermarket to buy groceries, and afterwards you need to lie down for a few hours....
So when you decline his offer of staying with him "until you feel better" (he has no intentions of ever letting you go) out of politeness, he breaks into your apartment and takes you anyways, you're clearly not in your right mind! You don't have to take care of yourself when he can do it for you!
After waking up in his house and getting through a long explanation of why you're here and how he's not letting you go, sorry, he wanted you to come here willingly (and he was so close to that happening), but he just couldn't wait any longer when you're suffering like this, he starts taking care of you. Carrying you around when you're too tired to move, making you walk around a bit so you're not just lying down motionless all the time (he might even go outside with you like this, it's not like you can run away... and his grip on you is so tight you couldn't get away anyways, I mean, he has to make sure you don't fall!), getting you expensive medicine that he heard might help, anything to get you to feel better! Isn't this better than being alone? You'll understand soon, you're just not used to being taken care of yet...
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ruskaroma · 11 months
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thinking of pissing john wick off so fucking bad that he fucks you into the fucking wall🤤🤤 he’d been so patient with you, but you just kept pushing his buttons so here you are, his hand clamped over your mouth as he fucks you full of his cum….
everybody pull up a chair cuz we are going to have a talk.
john wick is a soft dom. that’s up to no debate. he could be a mean dom sometimes, but that rarely happens. but the point still stands.
john wick is a soft dom.
and of course, a soft dom would be incomplete without a bratty sub.
john doesn’t like it when you talk back, but during this time you’re feeling a bit naughty. a simple denial from john ruined your entire day, and so of course it’s your job to ruin his too.
he has been on the edge all day long since morning because of your constant backtalk. the snarky little remarks. the murmurs you’d say that he wouldn’t hear just to rile him up even more.
john tries to talk the brattiness out of you, but unfortunately for him, he might have to do it the hard way.
he had just come back from work when you immediately bombarded him with your attitude. still dressed in his work attire and you in your pajamas, john thinks this is the perfect time to strike.
as he stands in front of you in the living room, your mouth immediately snaps shut when a large hand comes slapping your cheek. it’s not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to get some senses in your brain and tell yourself that you’re absolutely fucked.
literally.
a yelp leaves your mouth as you touch the spot he slapped, but when you look at him, he’s staring straight back at you challengingly.
“got any more to say, brat?”
your lips wobble. it’s not always mean john comes to play, but when he does, it scares the living shit out of you. not only because he’s mean MEAN, but also because that means there’s a 99% chance that you won’t be able to sit properly for weeks.
“d-daddy–”
“now you want daddy?” he mocks, then gripping your jaw with one hand and forces you to look at him. “daddy has been real patient with his little girl all day long, but you just won’t fucking listen to a word daddy says, don’t you?”
you’re half scared, half horny. john is fucking seething. he must be so pissed at you that he even cussed.
“d-daddy, ow, you’re hurting me–” you try to move away from his grip, but that only leads you to being slammed against the wall as john forcefully pulls your pants down along with your panties, revealing your wet cunny that’s already dripping from this whole thing. “d-daddy–”
“this must be what you fucking wanted then. for daddy to be pissed at you.” he roughly unbuckles his belt and pulls his already hard cock out, not giving you enough time to comprehend what’s truly happening when he’s already pushing his fat cock inside your little pussy, stretching it open and making you scream. “now you’re crying, can’t form a single fucking word. what happened to that bratty little girl earlier that won’t stop running her mouth, hm? you got anything to say?”
your legs are wrapped around his waist as you sob hysterically on his shoulder, ruining his perfectly good black suit. your shared wetness is dripping down the floor as his heavy balls slap against your ass.
you clench around his dick, babbling incoherent pleas for him to slow down, but all you receive is another slap on the cheek.
“shut your mouth and take it. don’t make me shove my cock so far down your throat you wouldn’t be able to speak for weeks.”
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beansricejc · 9 months
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Returning the Favor - John Wick x F!Reader
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⚠️warnings: DUBCON, smut, piv, facial, pressured intimacy, implied abuse (not John), graphic depictions of violence, cursing, alcohol, blackmail, noncon pictures, no use of y/n!, 3716 words.
a/n: it’s me again, back with something I’ve been cooking for a few days. life is wild rn but I hope u all enjoy!
summary: John does a hit for you, at no cost, and now he wants something in return. it’s only fair, right?
John remembers your little face. The way your eyebrows furrowed at his insistence of doing this job free of charge. The split skin on your lip and the bruising on your cheek and wrists, he can picture it clearly.
He pictured you walking up to him in the alley outside of the Continental, where a friend of yours told you he would be.
He recalled the way you asked about his services.
“Who do you need gone?” he had asked, as you handed him a manilla envelope. That’s when he noticed the blue and yellow pattern that littered your skin when you reached your hand out to him to give him the paperwork.
“My fiancé.” you stammered out of those damaged lips of yours. “He’s the chief of police, and I’ve tried getting away, getting protection orders, but he’s able to just get rid of anything I do.” you elaborated.
John’s eyebrows raised at the sound of that. He added the context clues together and immediately understood, especially after seeing your bruises. John assumed you weren’t a kickboxer in your spare time.
He’s still able to admire your delicate features, despite the fact you’re not trying exactly to look pretty. He can still tell that you have gorgeous eyes and long lashes, a nice haircut that frames your well shaped face to perfection. Your skin is smooth and clear, and your body? Even though you’re in a cropped hoodie, you do have leggings on.
Oh leggings. Truly underrated in all aspects. The way the cloth clings to your body, shaping around your hips, thighs, and ass.
Truly beautiful. He can tell.
Maybe he could use this to his advantage? Not necessarily the most morally correct way to get a woman, but it could do the trick.
And use he did. He would use it to his advantage, in a simple and innocent move.
“I’ll do it. No charge.” John replied to you, you’re taken aback by the sudden generosity from him, you’re so shaken by the entire situation you don’t even notice his eyes trailing your entire figure and checking you out.
“Really? No, I can’t let you,” you insist, handing him a duffel bag full of 5 figures of cold hard cash, but he simply refuses it.
“We can discuss it later…” John says, shaking his head and outright not taking the bag. “Keep your money. Please.”
-
He’s thinking of this encounter as his blade thrusts into your fiance’s throat, finally getting the winning blow after their quite large altercation. As a police captain, your fiancé knew how to hold his own in a fight quite well.
Not well enough apparently.
Your fiancé gurgles as John shoves him against his bed, the blade destroying his vocal chords and windpipe. John makes one swift movement with his wrist, and the blade rips out of his flesh, separating several tendons. The severed arteries cause blood to squirt onto John’s neck and face.
“No one likes a woman beater.” John clicked his tongue at the dying police officer, who crumpled to the floor, blood pooling from his lethal wound and onto the carpet. A bubbling sound echoes from his mouth, the red liquid dribbling from his lips, and in a few more moments, his eyes are drained of any life that was left in them.
John rolled his own eyes and quickly did his best to destroy the good condition of the condo, making it seem like a robbery gone wrong. He grabbed a few things that looked of value, including a few expensive watches and some impressive Japanese chef knives, and went on his way.
-
You had stayed at your friend’s house in the meantime. Anxiety spiked through your chest, hoping everything was going to plan. You honestly weren’t able to take it anymore, your fiancé had really outdid himself this time. You had gone out with your girlfriends for some drinks on Saturday night, he didn’t appreciate you not sharing your location with him. So the obvious reaction? To beat the absolute piss out of you. You were wearing a sweater in 70 degree weather because of the purple and blue marks that littered your skin, including on your arms, abdomen, and back.
You had enough. Clearly enough to save up money doing side gigs without him knowing and saving enough to pay for a hitman that a friend of a friend told you about. You’re playing something with your friend on her Nintendo Switch as you feel your phone buzz in your pocket.
You frantically grab the device, opening it to find a text from an unknown number.
It’s done. Meet me at the Continental’s bar.
Your heart dropped to your stomach. That could only mean one thing. The job was finished.
He was finally dead.
Sighing in relief, your friend raised her eyebrows and turned to you.
“You good?” she asked.
“Huh?” You say out of the blue, shaking yourself out of your solace. “Yeah. Never better.” you force a smile.
-
John waited for you at the bar, he had changed and showered, washing the blood that had gotten on him from his little altercation with your now ex. The atmosphere is the typical Continental’s vibe, comfortable, upscale. He’s waiting for you at a small table with an open bottle of champagne. John hadn’t been able to get your cute face and nice figure off of his mind since he met you the other day. The day when he said to not worry about paying him.
Well, today he’d discuss another form of payment he was interested in. A favor for a favor one would say. A body for a body.
He wanted you.
His eyes trail up towards you who just arrived, wearing a simple yet oh so flattering outfit, your eyes are glued to your cell phone while you walk in.
John cleared his throat and shot you a little wave of his hand, catching your attention. Your beautiful eyes widen, and you smile at him, slipping your phone into the purse slung over your shoulder as you make your way over to his table. John couldn’t help but check your entire body out. Your face, legs, tits, even the way your hips swayed a bit while you walked made him just want to take a bite out of them.
God, you looked delicious.
Sitting down, you smiled at John.
“Hey, how are you?” you asked him, attempting to disguise the fact that you’re freaking out. Several emotions have been pumping in and out of your brain, you don’t know how to exactly feel. Grief? Safe? Relief? Distress?
Especially in front of the man that solved your biggest issue in your life within a manner of minutes. How do you present yourself in front of him? More importantly, how are you going to possibly defend yourself to the police?
Only time will tell.
John sighs, you sit down. He begins to speak as he pours your light, bubbly glass of alcohol.
“Not too bad, actually.” John answered your initial greeting. “More importantly, how are you, my dear?” John boomerangs your question. Your heartbeat accelerated and you set your purse in your lap.
“Complicated. I’ll figure it out later.” is what you manage to come up with, biting the inside flesh of your mouth, your delicate fingers are silently tinkering with the zipper pull of your purse that sits just under the table. Of course he asked that. This is what he does for a living, he doesn’t think twice about the act.
The two of you engage in small talk, and it’s surprisingly refreshing. John has a lovely smile for a killer, with his nicely maintained dark scruff outlining his cheeks and jaw whenever he chuckles at a quip of yours. His brown eyes are always in a narrowed position but they seem to always glow towards you, never taking them off of your face for a moment.
You don’t know it at first, of course you don't. John’s a professional. He's deliberate in every breath, every shift of his body, in such a way that could only be described as masterful.
You don’t notice him until he has taken forty-five minutes to inch closer to you in his chair, shifting every so often to eventually, be brushing up against your delicate frame, arm to arm.
By now you’re on your third glass of champagne, you simply didn’t want to think about any of your problems, to just enjoy your time with this man that simply did you a favor.
Right?
“I’d like to request something of you.” John suddenly says in the middle of a conversation about your hometown. He’s been awfully interested in different topics about your life, you haven’t even thought twice about it. “I can’t tarnish my reputation with the fact that I did a job, free of charge.” John states, his head tilted directly down at little ol’ you, who’s currently sipping your drink.
Your heart drops to your gut while you swallow.
“…that’s fine. I still have the mon-“
“I don’t want the money. It’s not important to me.” John interjected, with his hand suddenly resting on your soft upper thigh, the feeling of his long fingers squeezing the limb almost making you jump from your seat.
The way his thin brown eyes are gazing over you and your figure, it would have sent most people into cardiac arrest. You put two and two together, holding your breath as you maintain eye contact.
“I see.” were the words you whispered while he gave you a soft and endearing smile.
But those eyes? Those eyes were cold. The pair of his told you things you couldn’t imagine repeating.
Before you can say anything else, John’s lips travel to your ear, his hot breath tickling your skin as he speaks. The hairs on the back of your pretty neck stand straight up at the knowledge of how close he was to you.
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since I took the job.” John informs you, his voice low and sultry, only meant for you to hear at that moment in time. “I made sure he suffered. And you owe me for that. Least you could do is… well,” John’s eyes trail down your figure, especially eying your cleavage.
Your heart is breaking. There was a twinge of hope in the back of your mind, aching for this man to be the one. The one to swoop you off of your feet and come save you like the damsel in distress that you were. But men are so disappointing.
“So, are you going to give me what I want? Or do I need to take it?” John sharply asks, snapping you out of your thoughts. Your blood turns cold at the thought of this killer having his way with you, touching you, fucking you. You were stuck. The anger churned in your gut as you clenched your jaw.
“Fine.”
Several minutes pass, and he has led you to his hotel room on the 8th floor, unlocking it and allowing you to enter first. You can only tell the luxuries this man has at his disposal, just from the glamorous hotel room he has brought you to.
The room is dimly lit, with a few candles he begins to light and the moon shining through the curtained windows. You furrow your eyebrows, biting your tongue, as you never imagined John, the killer, to be the romantic ambience type. You suddenly snap out of your head when he calls you by your name.
“Hm?” you ask, eyes wide as he’s turned towards you next to the bed.
“I asked, is there anything you’re uncomfortable doing? And what’s your preferred pace?” John repeated himself, apparently you had been stuck in your own thoughts and didn’t catch it the first time.
Of course there are things you’re not comfortable with in bed. Hell, you’re not even comfortable doing this with a man you hardly know!
You tell him the few things that are completely off limits with you, he ponders this and nodded his head, agreeing to your terms, even though this was a favor you were returning. The man, perhaps 20 years your senior, hasn’t broken eyesight with your figure for the past hour.
You almost feel like a meal that’s been prepared, just for him. Served on a silver platter and sent directly to his room, waiting to be ravaged upon. You wouldn’t be surprised if he began drooling soon.
He wasn’t kidding when he told you he’s been thinking about this since he met you a few days ago. It’s like you’ve tattooed yourself into his fleshy and morbid brain, refusing to let go, tormenting him with every small action you did, unintentionally or not.
But your curiosity is killing you.
“What pace do you prefer?” you shoot the question back at him instead of answering it yourself. You were experienced, sure. You were a grown woman. The past several months were filled with abuse and subpar sex with your (now dead) fiancé. Not that this owed favor would be any better, you’re expecting something that lasts maybe a few minutes just so John can get his stress out.
Of course you’re not expecting John to be generous, especially if this is simply a debt to be paid by your body.
John tilted his head to the side, clicking his tongue in thought while he sauntered over to you, who was on the opposing side of the bed. His eyes linger on you, not blinking even once as he soaks in your features. His rough hands began to undo his black silk tie, unbuttoning his white dress shirt that had already been stripped of its suit jacket. His knuckles are bruised and scabbed, John’s been a busy boy this week.
“It seems I may have grown a bit, fond, of you, this week.” John says, clearing his throat. “Can I show you how I want you?”
Your heart rate goes up, you bit the inside of your cheek, blinking up at the tall and intimidating creature that is John. It’s not like you can say no. You owe him. You owe him your life, he practically saved yours, no matter how unethical this was.
So you nod your head.
Moments pass but it doesn’t take John long to practically rip off your cute outfit, revealing the soft and sexy figure underneath. His bruised hands immediately grab you, he’s completely overtaken by the reminder of how small and delicate you look. Your sheer size difference between you and him, in height and weight, makes him so fucking erect. John shoved you against the fancy hotel wall, attaching his lips to yours, initiating a dance of tongues and teeth, taking your bottom pink lip and nibbling a bit. The move earns a squeak from your throat. John takes a moment to take his hands off of your soft flesh, disconnecting his lips from yours. John unzips his pants, letting them and his heavy belt fall to the floor.
It doesn’t take a second thought for him to reattach his hands to your thighs, grunting as he easily lifted your body up and to his level, with easier access to your lips and… well, your other pair of lips.
In the few minutes that you’ve been kissing, your cunt began to glisten with your arousal, especially now with John’s bare and rock hard cock pressing up to your small entrance.
“Shit, I just know you’re a tight little thing, huh?” John growled, using his innate strength to only hold you up by one arm, spitting into his hand and rubbing the slick between the tiny folds between your thighs. You moan as he delicately rubbed your clit, then giving himself a few pumps to wet his length.
“You gonna give up your pretty little pussy to pay me back? Huh? Gonna be a good hole for me to fuck?” John asked in a gruff and low tone into your ear, while you felt his thick tip push inside. Your breath hitched at the burn of his unexpectedly large dick, your cunt can only adjust so much in so little time.
“Agh! Y-y-yeah, just like that, please,” you stammered, gripping hard onto his muscular and wide back while he began to thrust. John gave you little to no time to get used to his length. You’re quickly able to adjust to his pace while he grabs your hips and thighs, moving you up and down on his cock that he was simultaneously thrusting into. Tonight, you’d be his good little fuck toy.
“Fuck, need to be deeper in you.” John growled, manhandling you and tossing you onto the hotel mattress. Within seconds, he had flipped your body, stomach side down and pulled your ass straight up in the air, giving you a few hard smacks.
You cry out in pain but before you can say anything, he’s already jammed his cock back into your tight cunt, with you squeezing yourself around him, earning yourself a few tender moans from John.
John took his large hand to grab the roots of your hair, pulling your head and neck back while John pounded into you, causing you to go dizzy. He’s fucking you almost like a rabid animal, and for some reason, you love it. The two of you resemble dogs in heat, while he relentlessly thrusted into your already sore pussy, moving his hand from your hair to around your throat. You can even feel his balls smack the cusp of your ass, informing you that he’s been fucking you with his full length for a bit now. You swore you could feel John’s cock in your stomach, moaning and begging out loud for him.
John’s hand tightens around your throat, restricting as much oxygen as possible, quieting your moans and cries for more.
He brings his other hand and spanks your red ass again, it’s gonna hurt to sit down for the next few days, but the sensation along with him fucking you from behind was a delicious combination.
“Good little slut, who’s my whore? Huh?” John asked, spanking you again. The sting of your ass is almost too much to bear.
You struggle to answer, but you do it.
“M-me! I’m your little whore.” Your scratchy voice strains. He flips over your pretty body again, his hands and eyes glazing over the front of you. You’re going to hurt tomorrow. You can only imagine all of the bruises and scratches you’ll be finding over the next few days.
“I’m the luckiest man in the world right now.” John mumbled, spreading your legs all the way to your chest and putting himself into you, thrusting over and over again. The tip of his cock keeps brushing against your cervix, making you whimper and cry out, your nails dig into his biceps, and he couldn’t care less. “So fuckin’ beautiful, just for me…” John grunts under his breath. He lets out an intense groan from the bottom of his throat, pulling out of your sopping wet hole. You almost frown.
Unfortunately, you ended up beginning to like this favor you owed a bit too much. So much so that you begin to whine and pout the second that John pulled himself from you.
The older man bit his lip and raised his eyebrows, forcing himself to stifle his wicked smirk as he peers down at a desperate and needy little thing from below.
That thing being you, of course.
“Oh?” John asked innocently, despite the filthy sin you two were committing at the moment. “What do we have here?”
Remember when I mentioned that you were a meal in waiting?
Well, John was about to devour you.
He’s starving for you, attaching his lips and tongue to the folds he’s been unforgivably pumping into for the past half an hour. The sensation of his calloused fingers gripping and spreading your fleshy thighs apart, with malicious intent, mixed with the gentle and needy laps his tongue is giving your pussy is nearly too much to handle. He even gives your clit a few soft motions with his lips, your vision is blacking out from the carnal ecstasy John is so humbly gifting you at the moment.
Your ears can pick up a soft grunting from him, he’s taking his free hand and twisting it up and down on his shaft, touching himself to the act of him savoring your cunt.
John pushes two of his long fingers into you while he quickens the pace on your sensitive core, earning a sudden scream from you, jolting up and arching your back. John opens his eyes, not stopping, rather just looking at the way your tits bounced when you arch your back.
You were close. Way too close. John’s fingers were skillfully working you up, and you began to unconsciously clench around them.
“J-John, I’m gonna-“
“Cum for me.” John interrupted, his mouth still in your pussy as he kept his movements steady. He let out a few masculine whimpers into your clit while you lost control of your senses.
Your orgasm nearly brings you to the brink of tears, your vision blacks out, this is a completely new way to experience a climax. Your small hands grip the hell out of the hotel bed sheets, John allows you to ride out your orgasm, while you’re still recovering with your eyes closed, he quickly moves up towards you, and you feel a hot sticky substance splash onto your lips and cheeks.
“Fuck.” John catches his breath, panting and trembling along with you as he came on your face.
And there was a ton of it. Your eyes fluttered open, but you immediately shut them again, noticing that he wasn’t done, with more thick white ropes of his seed spurting now onto your nose and brow, painting a licentious portrait onto your delicate features.
You hear a click, and can see the outline of a bright flash through your closed eyes, but with your cock drunk state, you wouldn’t even think to mention it to John.
Besides, now he has a pretty little Polaroid picture of the facial he gave you, just the right size to keep in his wallet for safe keeping.
Now he has a bit of leverage on you, just in case he'd like another favor like this again. You wouldn’t want him to spread such a lewd picture of yourself around the internet, now would you?
He’ll enjoy every last bit of you for every single session you two share together. He’ll take advantage of your vulnerability and willingness to cave at any slight disadvantage you had.
You were his, and you didn’t even know it.
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keanuthot · 10 months
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Film stills from the Bonus X-ray edition
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