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matthew-gray-gublers-babygirl · 1 year

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I’m not sure if you take requests but if you doooooo

Could you write a smutty fic w/ John Wick where the reader is Winston’s daughter and she visits him while he’s at the continental (just to check up if he needs anything and whatnot) and one thing leads to another…you know where I’m going with this 🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈

Muuuchhh loveeee 💕💕💕💕

Of course! Feel free to request anything else xx

Late Night Visitor - John Wick x Fem!Reader

Summary: Just smut. No story line really, but if you're interested in a mini-series for this I might write it! The reader is alone in the continental with John, and they fuck. (explained more in the request lmao)

Warnings: Smut (p in v), dominance, age gap (legal), swearing, mention of breeding kink

Word Count: 2.5k

Enjoy!

“Ah, Y/N. There you are, dear,” you hear your father say as you enter the lounge. “You remember Mr. Wick?” you hadn’t seen him in years. Your father, the New York Continental hotel manager, had tried to keep you away from his business. You met Mr. Wick a couple of times when you were younger. Your visits to the hotel were sparse because you were so young, but now that you’ve turned eight-teen, your father allowed you in the hotel more often.

“Nice to see you again, Y/N,” he says. You swallow thickly. He was much taller than you and looked at you with piercing eyes. “Nice to see you, Mr. Wick…” You become quiet. You always stayed quiet around your father's clients, but you got especially quiet around Mr. Wick because he was undeniably attractive.

You hear him laugh. “John is fine,” he tells you. You nod. You feel like you should bow. “Okay… John.”

He looks over at your father. “Well, I’ll be in my room if you need anything from me,” he says. “Winston, Y/N.” He nods with each name, and you feel the heat growing as you hear yours.

Your eyes are still fixated on the ghosting silhouette of John when you feel a hand on your shoulder. “Y/N, dear,” your father begins. “I’ve got to go out for a small event. I’ll be back soon. Ask Charon if you need anything,” he explains. “Now, give your Papa a hug,” he tells you, and you give him a reserved hug before being escorted out of the lounge room and to your room.

John Wick was staying in the hotel tonight, and your father was gone. You lay in your bed picturing yourself knocking on his door. You laugh. Like you’d have the balls. You decide to wander the hotel corridors for a bit, hoping that you would cross paths with John.

You saw John a couple of times every year. With every passing year and your body becoming more developed into a young woman, you noticed that Mr. Wick's eyes lingered for much too long. You liked it, though. It felt wrong to have a man triple your age looking at you like that, God knows your father would be furious, but you couldn't shake that feeling of yearning for his hands to grab you and never let go. The hands which have killed many.

You reach the tenth floor. John always preferred the view of the tenth story. You walk through the hall, reaching the end room. Mr. Wick always reserved that room for himself, if not directly to Charon, then it was reserved out of courtesy for his long-time commitment and loyalty to your father.

With each step closer to the door, your heart rate raises a digit. Your hand ghosts the wood before you hit a few raps at the door. You don’t know what compelled you to knock; you don’t know what compelled you to even leave your room. You hear shuffling through the barrier. The door quickly opens and youre met with John. He was only in a white undershirt and his dress pants. They look wrinkled and poorly buttoned.

“Oh. Y/N.” he says. “I didn’t expect to see you. Everything alright, I assume?”

You gulp; thicker than before. “Yes, John. Everything fine,” you say, and his jaw tenses at your words. “Just wanted to check on you, that's all. Considering youre a good friend of my father,” you explain.

There’s a small period of silence before you hear John begin to speak. “Would you like to come in?” he asks. You nod, and he moves out of the doorway for you to enter. He shuts the door behind you and locks it. You hear the lock but don't mention it to John. You prefer it to be locked.

You notice a small concave in the mattress as it slowly disappears with the absence of weight on the memory foam. John must’ve been laying down when you came in.

You make your way to the small lounge area of the hotel room. “Is everything good with your room?” you ask, and John laughs. “You’re sounding like your father,” he says, covering his smile with his hand.

Youre almost offended. “What is that supposed to mean?” you put on that annoying tone you used to use when you were 16. Your father hated it.

John stands in front of you as you stay seated. “No, no. It's not a bad thing, I promise,” he explains. “Your father is very intelligent and wise.” where is he going with this? “You are definitely both those things. I’ve watched you become a beautiful young woman, you’re very mature.”

His hand moves in his palm, he forces it into his pocket to stop any movements. “You’re taking a big risk, you know?”

You put on your most innocent tone, breathy, almost Marilyn Monroe-like. “Risk? What do you mean by risk?” your doe eyes are accentuated even more as your head is forced to look up from your seat.

John turns his gaze away from yours. If he looked any longer he wouldn't be able to control himself. He bites his lower lip, then swiftly looks at you again. “Being here is a risk. Being in my hotel room. Don’t you have any idea what your father would do if he found out you were in my hotel room at-” he checks his watch, “-God, almost 10 o’clock at night, Y/N. He’d kill me with his own to two hands.”

That still didn’t answer your question. “What if I want to take a risk?” Johns breathing gets heavy, and so does yours. The steady, yet contrasting movement of your lungs inside your chest made it almost impossible for John not to look at your breast which you had exposed for that very reason.

Johns’ hand reached out of his pocket and gently lands on your chin, index finger and thumb cradling your jaw. “Are you sure you can handle something like that?” He asks. His thumb grazes against your bottom lip and you kiss the pad of his thumb; rough and callused.

“I’ve never been more sure.” Suddenly, the gentle touch of his fingers turns rough. His entire hand cups your cheek as he brings you off the lounge chair. You stand up; even with both of you standing, the height difference was still noticeable. He kisses you. His touch is hungry and impatient. His free hand lingers down your waist, and you grab it, forcing it onto your rear. He squeezes your arse, forcing a whine out of you.

John parts for a second. His breath hits your lips. He takes a moment to process what he just did. He didn't know if he should continue. You needed him to continue.

“Kiss me again,” you tell him, and he does. His kiss is rough, yearning for more. He takes you to the bed and throws you onto it. He didn't ask if you ‘wanted to’. He already knew you were soaking wet for him.

He almost rips off his undershirt. His chest was covered in tattoos and scars. You want to touch him; let your hands run over every muscle, but your hands were occupied with your shirt and the struggle of removing it. John assists you and almost whimpers at the sight of your breasts.

Johns’ sore hands reach to your chest, fondling your young breasts. His thumb runs over your nipple, causing it to harden under the pad of his finger. The pool of arousal between your legs was growing irritable by the second.

“John…” you whimper. “Yes?” he asks, and for a moment he sounds concerned like he’s done something wrong. You hesitate your words, because to tell the truth, you’ve never said anything out loud like that. Yes, you’ve had sex. You’re not a virgin, no matter how badly John wished he could have taken it. But you never had a proper fucking. The guys you have been with, which for the record was not pleasing for you, had no idea what they were doing. On the other hand, John was almost thirty years your senior, and you knew he was experienced.

“Fuck me,”

John freezes at the words. He hadn’t heard something like that in a long time, and he especially didn't expect to hear it from you. Once he snapped out of the distraction, he wasted no time removing your pants and panties.

“Not gonna make it even, Mr. Wick?” you cock an eyebrow at his surname as your hands reach for his waistband. He helps with the buttons and zip, and removes them entirely, boxers included.

Your mouth basically waters at the sight of his cock. It was much bigger than you have ever taken.

“Are you- uh,” he gets distracted by the sight of your wet pussy. “Are you a virgin?” he manages to get out. You shake your head. “I’ve had sex before. Just not very good sex,” you explain. He takes his bottom lip between his teeth. “So you’ve never had a proper fucking before?” he asks, and you shake your head again. “I’m going to change that, then,”

You feel Johns rough fingers touch your gentle clit. He slowly circles the bud, collecting a small amount of your arousal on his fingertips. His fingers linger for a moment as small whimpers come from you, then he ventures down further. He spreads your lips with his fingers, letting his digits slide between them.

It was strange because the two men (if you could call them men) you’ve been with never focused on your pleasure as they did in the erotic literature you read. They just stuck it in and went until they came. John wasn't doing that, no matter how hard it was to resist.

John retracts his fingers for a moment and licks them to add extra lubricant. He hums at the taste of your arousal on his fingers. He brings the digits back to your core, and with a nod of approval, he inserts them. You whine at the penetration. You of course had fingered yourself before, but your fingers were much smaller than Johns.

He begins pumping them in and out. He starts slow because the last thing on earth he would want to do was hurt you. As your whimpers turn to whines, he moves them faster. You moan softly and reach a hand to circle your clit. John quickly swats your hand away, taking control of your clit. You moan out his name along with many more unprintable obscenities.

John feels your walls clench around his fingers. Your moans grow louder, and just as youre about to feel your release, a sudden emptiness fills you. John licks his fingers clean as your high slowly fades away. “But-” you mumble, and John tuts you. “Just wait,” he says. “You’ll come in no time, and it will be fucking amazing,” he ensures you.

He looks down at his cock, ready to fill you up entirely when he realized he didn't have a condom. “Shit,” he muttered. “There should be some in the bathroom. They’re pretty accommodative here,” you say and almost giggle. John nods, stands up from the bed and grabs a condom from one of the neatly organized drawers. He returns to the bed, rolls on the condom, then aligns his tip with your entrance. You give him a nod and less than a second later he was filling you up to the brim.

You yell out as he stretches you. “Holy fuck!” you’d be surprised if the neighbouring hotel rooms couldn't hear. You quickly shake off Johns' worries. “No, no. Keep going-” you assure him. You never wanted him to stop.

After you gave him the O.K, he began thrusting into you. His hands gripped your hips as his cock moved in and out of you. You grabbed his hands, forcing him to pin you down.

“Dirty girl,” he grins, and you moan in response. He forces your wrists into the bed, tightly gripping them as he slams his pelvis into yours, rewarding him with another one of your sweet and erotic moans. “Don’t… don’t stop!” you breathe out, and John smirks. “Didn’t plan to,” he replies as he thrusts into you again. You beg him to go faster, and he complies. Your moans become uncontrollable as his cock plunges in and out of you, his length hitting every pleasure sensor to send you through the roof.

John grips your palms tighter as his breathing gets heavier. “Fuck… Y/N,” he groans. “Gonna be a good girl for me? Hm?” you immediately nod. You were going to be a good girl. You wanted to be his good girl. “Gonna need an answer there, sweetheart.” you suppress your moans so you can get out a single phrase to please him. “Yes!” you say. “I’ll be – holy fuck! I’ll be good, I- I promise,” John smirks. You look so needy and helpless. “That's what I thought,” he says before kissing you hungrily.

His tongue reaches untouched places in your mouth, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth and leaving hickeys everywhere he could lay his lips. You whine at his hot breath suctioning your skin. You knew your father would be furious that you had hickeys, but you couldn't care any less.

John feels your walls clench around his length. You were close again. You begin crying out, begging for some form of release. “Gonna be a good girl and come?” you already know he needs a verbal response. “Yes, I’ll be so good and come for you…!” you moan. Your eyes roll back into your head; body numb like the familiar effects of an edible.

John returns his mouth to your neck, sucking hot welts onto your delicate skin as he growls praises and demands into your ear. He was close too, and he couldn't wait much longer. The sound of his low, raspy voice in your ear, for you and only you to hear, was the thing you needed to push you over the edge. The pleasure rushes over you like a tidal wave, a completely unfamiliar feeling of ecstasy. Bells ring in your ears as your shout out obscenities, unable to hear them over the deafening sound of your body reacting to the orgasm.

John groans loudly as your walls tighten around him. “Fuck!” he yells. His hips shudder, hard thrusts becoming sloppy. He lets out a masculine moan, bucking his hips towards yours as he spills his arousal into the condom. He wished he could fill you up; watch as his come dripped out of you. He was already taking the risk of having sex with you, he wouldn't risk getting you pregnant, even if it turned him on like you couldn't imagine.

He pulls out, leaving you with an empty feeling, wishing for the overflowing sense to return. John removes the condom before collapsing on the bed beside you.

“John… holy fuck -” you huff, chest still heaving rapidly. John smirks at what he's done; proud of his work. “Bet that was way better than whatever guys you’ve been with,” he says, the cocky side of him coming out strong. You nod and laugh. “Way better.”

Read part two -> Here

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