#keanu Reeves x y/n

[greenmanalishi]

The John Wick franchise (2014-2023)

[valentinxd]

YOU POOR THING

WIP Here is a sneak peak 😘

Helen and John now have you and Winston is afraid this little game of theirs will spiral..

If there was one thing Winston could do was send you away in hopes that the world who hated the Wicks wouldn’t find their way to you. Of course, this only lasted so long as it became a game for the divorced couple, now all four of you were seated in the New York Continental bar and all you could do was drink your beer and sit in silence.

John Wick was a skilled hitman as you found out, in fact so very skilled that he was a little to damn good at his job and became the most feared of them all.

It didn’t help that he married Helen Moynahan, mostly known as Helen Wick - a powerful woman in the underground who fought, kiss, killed, and burned her way to the top only then to obtain a husband.

Either way Winston thought he could help you, at least save you since both of them were a little too preoccupied in their game. It was a slippery slope straight into obsession and outdoing the other as you now were seated at the bar while both of them sat behind you at a table discussing things as Winston demanded.

Helen only smiled coyly playing with her drink and John only stared back with the same stoic and unreadable nature he was known for, despite the blood on his face.

While you swiveled around in your bar stool, anxious as all hell you immediately turned back around as you saw three men clean up three dead bodies and broken glass. You must have had a reaction because the poor bartender slid you a shot glass full of tequila.

[yup-thats-me]

KEANU REEVES

◇ play date ⋆ Tommy Warneki

↳ even if your bullies, Leah and Stacy, try to ruin your prom night with Tommy, they can't cuz Tommy's here

◇ pregnancy hormones

↳ your pregnancy hormones are acting up

◇ midnight love ⋆ John Wick

↳ when John keeps on comparing you to Helen, you burst

◇ take care of you

↳ you're on your period and Keanu is there to help you through it

◇ badass

↳ Tommy x reader from the movie Flying it set after the ending of the movie Y/n, Tommy, his friend Leo, Robin and her friend Carly are at the cafeteria mind their own business but the Leah Stacy and Leah's boyfriend Mark entered in the cafeteria and Leah and Stacy started teasing Tommy and Y/n relationship but Y/n stand against them and this gave the strength to Mark to dump his girlfriend

[nicb0723]

Find Your Worth

John Wick x Reader

Summary: You meet John in an unconventional way.

Warnings: 18+ only

Word Count: 6,282    Total word count: 89,178

Read Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Chapter 11

There’s a small bruise on John’s hand. He’s sleeping soundly next to you and the early morning sun is starting to shine through the cracks in the curtains. 

The bruise is only about the size of a dime and it’s under the knuckle of his ring finger. You keep wondering how he got it as you quietly dress for work. It’s a rare day when John sleeps late and you feel like a voyeur watching him but you can’t look away. He’s gorgeous like this, peaceful and sated. The urge to kiss his lips goodbye is strong but you don’t want to wake him either. He’s been restless lately and he needs sleep. 

It crosses your mind more than once, that bruise. And then your thoughts start to spin. You start thinking about all of his scars and how he got them. The people who hurt him and how they’re probably dead. You have to shove the thoughts to the back of your mind, wondering why you’re choosing now to obsess over a small wound. Maybe it’s because John told you he’d come home beat up and it hasn’t happened yet. You’re worried about him and you’re not quite sure how to process it. 

Until that night.

John is relaxing on the couch after he seemingly enjoyed the dinner you cooked. Again, you expected him to be bloodied and bruised when he gets home but again, he’s not. He is wearing a suit though and his hair is slicked back when he greeted you. But now he’s loosened his tie and reading one of the heavier books from the coffee table, the one you can’t pronounce the title of and it makes you feel stupid every time you see it. You’ve been meaning to google it but you always forget. 

You sit cross legged on the couch and tie your hair on top of your head. 

“Oh no.” John closes the book and puts his hand on your knee. “This is never good.”

“What?”

“You have your serious face on.”

“My serious face?” You have no idea what he’s talking about. 

“And your hair is up, so that definitely means you have something on your mind.”

You cross your arms over your chest and huff. “Can you not analyze me right now?” He’s being cute and it’s pissing you off. “This is about you.”

“My apologies,” John takes the book and sets it on the coffee table, and then turns to you. “What can I help you with?” How he is always this patient with you, you’ll never know.

You take his hand and tap on the bruise. “Where’d this come from?”

John squints and looks. “Where’d what come from?”

“This bruise.”

John starts to laugh but stops when he sees you’re not smiling. “Honey, I don’t know. I probably knocked my hand on something or I was playing with Pooch.”

You stare at the small dark spot on his skin and feel stupid for overreacting. There’s still an underlying concern though. “I guess… I guess I’m asking because you told me you were going to help Jimmy a few weeks ago and now it’s almost Thanksgiving… I haven’t seen anything.”

“Oh.” 

You can tell John feels bad.

“I think it’s starting to get to me…” You pick up his hand and kiss it. “Every day I’m expecting the worst. Or for you not to come home at all.”

John nods, understanding. “Right. I get it.”

“And I’m not saying that I want to leave or anything.” You quickly explain. “I just want to be prepared.”

“So you can stay away?” John guesses. “So you don’t have to see the blood?”

You’re surprised he would ask that and move closer to him. “No way. So I can take care of you. I just don’t know what that looks like.”

“What do you mean?”

You remind yourself that John can’t read your mind. “Remember when I went to the Continental with you? When you got back from… work. I didn’t know what to do. Like, do you want to be alone? Do you not want me to touch you? Kiss you? Maybe you don’t want me to talk. What if I ask a question and you’re not in the mood? What if—”

He hushes you by pressing a finger over your lips. “I think I’m just like everyone else after a long day at work.”

Oh. You think about doing inventory a few days ago at the gas station and the numbers being way off, and you had to stay for a few more hours until you and Carla finally figured it out. How tired and moody you were. “I’m really cranky and don’t want to talk to anyone after a long shift.”

John scoots closer to you and drags a hand up your thigh. “Not even with me?”

You think about John rubbing your feet until you fell asleep on the couch. He knew just how to handle you and didn’t have to ask a ton of questions to figure it out, unlike yourself. But then again, John was married for five years and the only relationship you’ve ever had was with a drunk so it makes sense he knows more than you about this stuff. 

Your thoughts drift off to grandma and how she could get really snippy with you after she’d got off of work. How you would be terrified to make any noise when she got home and would lock yourself in your room until the coast was clear. And on other days she was so nice. You never knew what to expect.

“Hon?”

You snap back to reality. “I’d only want to be around you.” 

He smiles. “I’d only want to be with you too. And how about if I want to be alone… I guess I would just go to the basement.”

“But sometimes I go down to the basement.”

“Only if I ask you to.” “That’s true.” You nod slowly. “Okay, that’ll work. Otherwise, you’re up for grabs and I can do what I want with you.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

“Whatever you would like, Mr. Wick.”

Smiling, he looks down and he’s quiet for a few seconds. “I actually had a really bad day today.”

“You worked.” You reach up to touch his slicked back hair. You’re so stupid. You should have realized he could be hurt somewhere other than his face. Now looking closer at his white dress shirt, you see blood mist dotted all over the material. 

“I did.”

“And it was awful?” You gape at him with big eyes, not being able to imagine what a really bad day would be like for him. 

“It could have gone better.”

Your start searching for more blood or an injury. “But you’re not hurt? Are you?” 

“I got thrown down a few stairs.” He says nonchalantly. “But no, I’m okay.”

“Shit, babe. I’m sorry I didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me?”

He places a gentle kiss along your jaw. “Because when I walked in you were wearing an apron and cooking me a nice dinner. Because you took Pooch on a walk for me when it got late. Because it all went away when you hugged me after I got home.” He smiles, looking shyly down again. “Because you were happy to see me and I didn’t ask for any of it. But I’m so glad I have it. That I have you.”

Stunned, you blink at him. How is he so charming after being tossed down a flight of stairs? You can’t react to anything nice he just said so instead, you ask what else happened. 

“I ran out of ammo.”

You take a deep breath and sigh. That’s your worst nightmare for him.

“I took a swing at a guy and I missed. I never miss. And that caused a whole scene at a club so I didn’t get my guy.”

“Oh baby.” Your stomach drops. “I’m so sorry.” You hold his hand and kiss the back of it. “You always get the guy.”

“I was kidding. I got him. Eventually.” 

You’re not impressed and push gently on his shoulder. “Of course you did. That doesn’t sound like too bad of a day to me. The bad guy is dead, right?”

He shrugs. “I guess. Pretty sure I gave some innocent people a fright.”

“Do you care about that?” You hope it doesn’t sound too harsh but now you’re wondering. 

“I was taught not to but lately I’ve been caring more than usual.” The silence hangs in the air because you let it, knowing he’ll continue when he’s ready. “What if you were at that club today? Someone like you… “

“Someone like me?”

“Sweet… and innocent.”

“I’d have you there to protect me.” You tell him softly. “And girls can be pretty resilient, you know?”

“That’s becoming clearer. I’ve seemed to have forgotten.”

He means it’s been a while since he’s been around a strong woman, like Helen. She was probably a badass. But you don’t want to mention her name. Not right now. This is about you and John. And every day you’re growing more confident in yourself, which you know John can see too.

You pretend to be shocked and start to unbutton his shirt. “How dare you.”

He glances down. “Can I help you ma’am?”

“I want to cuddle with my boyfriend but he’s got something on his shirt.”

You’re able to get the last button unclasped and slide your arms around him before he tackles you to the couch, laying in between your legs.  He smells like spice and smoke, a delicious combination that you just can’t get enough of. Your fingernails drag up his back, scratching lightly his skin and he moans in delight. His kisses are slow and deep, teasing your tongue with his and he tastes better than you could ever imagine. 

Both of you seem to understand that making out is all it’s going to be right now. Unhurried and comforting, the best pace for John tonight. He keeps one hand on your neck, stroking the loose strands of hair out of the way, and his fingertips pressing warmly at your pulse. You can feel how hard he is for you but he doesn’t seem to want to move. The weight of his body on top of yours makes you feel so safe. He’s heavy and strong, his muscles straining above you as he shifts to be even closer.

He suddenly stops, jolting in pain and before you think that you did something wrong, he smiles down at you. “Hey, I’m fine. Just a little sorer than I thought.”

You lean up to kiss him. “Let me take care of you tonight, Mr. Wick?”

“Hmm…” He fakes thinking about it and you try not to roll your eyes. “Only if you insist, my love.”

Your heart pitter-patters insanely at the word love and that smartass knows he made you speechless. 

And you’re lucky because it won’t be the last time.

**

Finals are brutal. You thought you’d be prepared but the number of papers and projects you have due, plus working longer hours than usual, and you’ve recently taken up helping Francis study English… you basically have no time. 

You haven’t seen John in a few days and you haven’t really talked to him either, besides the normal texts of keeping each other up to date throughout the day. So when he tells you to come over, you don’t take it as a suggestion and you’re just short of being desperate see him. The sun is warm and bright this afternoon, and for a November day it’s actually not freezing out. 

When you pull up into the driveway John motions for you to park behind his car that is pulled outside instead of in the garage. There are buckets of soapy water, rags, and the hose is laying across the lawn. 

He bends in for a slow kiss that lasts longer than usual. You put your arms around his shoulders and pull him in for a hug. It’s only been a few days but you missed him so much. You are officially addicted to the taste of his mouth and the withdrawal is impossible to ignore. 

“What’s this, a side hustle?” You ask, pointing to the hose and finally letting him go.

“Yeah, I figure the cars could use a good wash while it’s nice out.” 

It completely melts your heart that he wants to wash your car too and that’s why he wanted you to come over. 

You pick up a rag and twirl it around. “What can I do to help?”

“Nothing.” John smiles and takes the cloth out of your hands. “I got this. I know you’ve had a busy week. Are you tired?”

“Actually I’m on a coffee buzz right now so I’m good.” You tell him as he leans over to fill a bucket. His ass looks so good in those jeans and you can’t help but give it a little squeeze. 

His body shoots up in surprise and so does his eyebrows. He looks so shocked you can’t contain your laughter, and you can feel yourself start to blush. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”

“I can see that.” He pretends to be offended but ends up kissing you again. His muscles are powerful under the white Henley that he’s wearing and your hands run down his arms. 

“How are you feeling? Did you come across any more flights of stairs?”

He cringes and you know that’s a yes. 

“Oh no. How bad is it?” 

“Nothing new happened. Just still sore from the other day.”

You stare into John’s eyes and it’s hard to know if he’s telling you the truth because he’s squinting from the sun. 

“Can I look?”

John lets out a sigh but you realize he doesn’t want anyone else to watch you check him. The neighborhood is quiet though and yeah, maybe this isn’t the best place but now you’re curious to see how the bruises are healing. You saw them briefly after helping John to bed but that was almost a week ago.

He turns around and you lift up his shift. The worst bruises were dotted along his lower back right above his waistline. And you were right, they don’t look much better. 

“Well, I hope you don’t have to work anytime soon.” You tell him, kissing his shoulder blade and lowering his shirt. “It looks painful.”

He doesn’t say anything about work and it makes you wonder. You decide to let it go for now. “Where’s Pooch? He’s not helping?”

“He’s taking a walk with Casey and her dad.” John says and turns the hose on. You get some soap into the buckets and even though John said he doesn’t need the help, of course you do what you can and end up getting water all over yourself. John just laughs at your clumsiness but you can tell he thinks it’s endearing. 

“Story of my life.” You sigh at yourself. “Did I tell you about the car wash breaking down last week and the guy who came out to fix it got stuck on the roof?” You tell John the story and he shakes his head in disbelief like he usually does when you’re talking about work. He always says that he never understands how you deal with people all day long. 

“Hey there! John!” 

You can hear Pooch bark before you see him and shade your eyes just in time as he jumps on your legs. 

“Hi guys, how’d the walk go?”

“Good!” Casey skips along the lawn and Pooch chases her. You look down to see muddy paw prints on your jeans. Now you’re a complete mess. 

John shakes the hand of who you assume is Casey’s dad. “This is Daniel.” He tells you and then introduces you as his girlfriend. It makes you smile.

“Hi, nice to meet you. Thanks for taking Pooch for John a lot of the time.”

“Our pleasure! Casey just loves him and I don’t have to get a dog.” Daniel says in a half whisper and you laugh. He’s sweating and his face is a little flushed. He seems nervous.

“Well, we really appreciate it.” John says. “We’d like to have you over for dinner sometime as a thank you.”

You hide your surprise at the word “we” and can see that Daniel is intrigued and doesn’t really know what to say. You imagine that John is a mystery to a lot of people and everyone is curious about him. It also looks like Daniel is a little scared of John and keeps his distance. 

“Sure, that’d be uh—yeah, really nice. Okay, Cas – we gotta go! See you later, I’m sure!” Daniel grabs Casey’s hand and yanks her down the driveway. 

“Was that strange?” John asks and throws the ball for Pooch. 

“I don’t know… do you usually talk to him when you drop the dog off?” 

“Not really.” John starts washing the car again and then stops to think. “I guess I have showed up to his house a little bloody.” He thinks some more. “And one time I took off my jacket and forgot I still had my holster on.”

“Did you still have guns on it?”

“Just two or three.”

You smile to yourself. “Well, that’s all completely normal. I’m sure the neighbor down the street with a child isn’t concerned at all.”

“Hmm.” John is still processing when you ask another question. 

“So, we’d like to invite them over for dinner, huh?”

John’s hair is falling across his eyes and you stop yourself from pushing it away. “Too much?”

“No…” It just made you get the butterfly feeling flooding your stomach again. You have to get some space. “Is it okay if I grab some juice?” You look down at your disgusting shirt and pants. “And maybe I’ll change.”

John hurries to get to the house before you can open the door. “I’ll get it for you.” He gives a small smirk and presses a chaste kiss to your cheek. “And you look absolutely gorgeous like this.”

Blushing, you shake your head. “Lie.”

“Never.” John doesn’t hesitate. “But maybe instead of changing… a shower?”

You smile and run your fingernails through his beard. “I think you read my mind, Mr. Wick.”

The cars don’t get washed until the next day. 

**

John had told you a few days ago that he has to work on Thanksgiving too, which makes you relieved and sad at the same time. Relieved because now you don’t have to worry about disappointing him if dinner doesn’t turn out right, and sad because it’s your first holiday together besides that shitty Halloween. 

The thing about Thanksgiving being here soon is that Christmas is right around the corner. And you’ve never had to buy anything for a boyfriend before so the whole ordeal is making you quite anxious, probably a lot more than it should be. You’ve been subtly asking a lot of questions and if John notices, he doesn’t say anything. He has a ton of patience just like he usually does and often asks you questions back, but you know it’s not for a sneaky clue to buy a gift. He really wants to know the answers and he always looks at you with interest in his eyes. 

It makes you feel a little guilty that learning more about him isn’t your number one priority. But at the same time, you want to get him a great present, damn it. He probably hasn’t had a great Christmas in a while, so if you can give him something just slightly better than a crappy holiday, you’ll be happy. You tell yourself not to compete with anything Helen has done in the past and it doesn’t have to be spectacular. That would be too much pressure. Logically you know that John would never really care what you get him. 

You find the best time to ask him questions is just after some teasing and fun in bed, when he’s relaxed with a pillow under his cheek and he can’t stop touching your skin. His hair is a little sweaty and you move it from across his forehead, and then run your fingers over the stubble along his jaw.

There’s a stickiness between your legs and you’ll have to get up soon to wash but for right now you both don’t have to get up early, the dog is passed out in the corner of the room, and your phones are muted. The lights are turned low and there’s nowhere you have to be and there’s nothing you have to worry about. It still amazes you that a killer can make you feel so secure in his arms. 

“Is there anything you’re not good at, Mr. Wick?”

“Hmm?” There’s a small smile there that you catch. He’s awake. He’s just being shy. 

“There has to be something.” 

John keeps his eyes closed but he mumbles a low “mmm” under his breath. 

“You can’t be perfect…” Right? “You know all about guns and knives. You know about cars. You know how to fight. You know at least four languages—” John’s eyebrow ticks up. “Five? Six? You know more than six languages? Oh god, you cannot be my boyfriend.”

John laughs and finally opens his eyes. He tickles your side until you settle again. “I’m not a good runner.”

“Really?” That’s surprising. “You have to run a lot being an assassin?”

“Yeah.” John grunts as he sits up. “I can run for a long time, I’m just not really fast.”

You drag your hand up his thigh and press your finger to the raised ridge of a scar. “Do you try to run fast with a knife sticking out of your leg?”

John squirms a little. “No, I usually pull the knife out.”

“Mm hmm.” You try not to roll your eyes. Only John Wick would think he runs slow after he’s been stabbed. “And I’m assuming you have on your suit and dress shoes? When you have to run?”

John blinks slowly, thinking. “I guess that’s true. But I should still be able to go faster.”

“Slow and steady wins the race.” You tell him softly and that earns you a long, deep kiss.

If he only knew how he makes your stomach flip, he’d never let you hear the end of it.

Okay, back to the task at hand. Christmas present. “Have you been binding books lately?”

“A little.” He yawns and closes his eyes again. Well, that doesn’t tell you much. 

Your mind races. “I have tomorrow night off. You want me to cook some steak and potatoes?” 

“That sounds excellent.”

“Out of everywhere you’ve been, where’s the best food you’ve ever had?”

He doesn’t take any time to think. “Italian is my favorite.”

“Huh. I should’ve guessed that.” He’s always wanting to take you out for pizza or pasta. 

John smirks and you gently poke at his ribs. “What’s that look for?”

“Let’s just say you’re not the most observant person I’ve ever met.” He jokes and then kisses you softly. “I guess that’s the one thing you’re not good at.”

You’re fully aware that being unobservant is just one of the things on a very long list you’re not good at. You still pretend to be mad though and lean over the side of the bed and call for Pooch. “It’s daddy’s turn in the doghouse.” You tell him and he just lays back down. John tickles under your knees and you try to wiggle away. 

He perches himself on top of you, suddenly serious and his voice low. “Daddy, huh?” Your eyes widen as he laughs. “I’m just kidding.”

“You think you’re so damn funny.” You can’t help but to laugh too. 

You realize that you’re so far gone for this man, even if you wanted to pretend and only be interested in getting the perfect gift, you really do want to know every single thing about him. 

**

Christmas is not what you expected. Although, you’ve been trying to not have many expectations – it’s something you and your therapist have been talking about lately. Avoiding disappointment is hard to do because all of sudden you have people in your life and how they act is out of your control. It’s confusing because people should still behave in a reasonable way but… does that mean you have to lower your standards? You’ve just learned what you deserve and that you’re worthy of something. The more you think about it, the more it doesn’t make sense. 

Of course, the one person who has hardly disappointed you yet has been John. 

Thanksgiving was a quiet picnic on the living room floor with grocery store bought foods. It wasn’t bad but it wasn’t great either, and all you thought about is next year and how you want to make John a homecooked meal. You wanted to tell him about it, describe the turkey you want to roast but should you assume you’ll be together next year? Will he still be in your life? You shoved the thought down and tried to enjoy the moment but John must have seen something in your expression. You plastered on a smile until he made you laugh, a real heartfelt laugh, and let it be. 

Christmas, on the other hand, is a little different. 

You’re not surprised that John didn’t decorate the house. He just doesn’t seem the type to care enough and you were way too busy with work and school, so by the time Christmas Eve came around you finally realized that it could be a little more festive at either of your houses. 

Work runs late since you’re the last one here. You offered to close down the gas station because everyone else has family to be with and while you have John… well, is he your family? Okay, too much thinking and too many questions. Just stop.

You feel bad about being tired until you see John dressed in an all black suit with his hair slicked back, looking striking as ever. 

“No.” You half whisper before you can stop yourself. 

“I’m sorry.” His voice is already that low, deadly tone you’ve become to know so well. “There’s a target… he’s been hard to find.”

“And you found him?”

John nods. “It’s the holiday. I know where his family is. He’ll be with them.” “Right.” You sigh heavily as you set your purse down on the kitchen counter. You’re slowly beginning to realize that while John was nice enough to try to warn you about some bruises he might show up with, this will always be the case. No warning will be needed again. There’s always a chance he'll be injured the next time you see him. “Should I go home?”

“No.” He says it quickly and before you can blink, he’s standing right in front of you, smoothing his thumb over your chin. “No. Please stay. I shouldn’t be too long. I’m so sorry.”

You pull his arm away and step back. “It’s fine. I understand. I’m tired anyway.”

“Trust me, I wouldn’t be doing this now if I didn’t have to.”

You smile up at him. “Will the world will be a safer place without this guy?”

He nods silently.

“Well then…” You press a kiss to his lips. “Merry Christmas, world. One bad guy down.”

John tilts his forehead to yours and closes his eyes, cupping your cheeks with his hands. “Dinner is in the oven. I lov—I’ll see you soon.”

“Just come back safe.” Please, God, just come home in one piece.

John grabs a long duffle bag you hadn’t seen by the garage door and hauls it over his shoulder. He leaves without another word and you stand alone in silence until Pooch comes off the couch, yawns in your face, and demands to be scratched. 

It only takes a few seconds of self-pity for you to realize this is probably the best Christmas Eve you’ve ever had and just because John has to go save the world for a few hours, doesn’t mean anything. He deals with your stupid work schedule all the time. You just wished you would’ve maybe known in advance so the shock didn’t sting so bad. It just makes you happy to have someone in your life who wants to be with you. 

Well, maybe this could work to your advantage. You had planned to sneak down to your car once he fell asleep but now you can bring in all of his Christmas gifts without having to be quiet, and maybe set something nice up for him to come home to see. 

Quickly, you eat the delicious roast chicken and potatoes John had made. You can tell he spent a lot of time on this dish and wish you could have made it with him, let alone have a nice dinner together. 

Not one to be creative, you’re very satisfied with yourself with the few decorations you managed to hang up around the living room. Suddenly you’re nervous that John might not like it, that he might think it’s too much or that you’ve overstepped. Exhaustion trumps overthinking so you decide to screw it and go to bed, and try to wait up for him. 

At least, that’s what you tell yourself. 

It’s a few hours after midnight when John kisses you awake and whispers, “Merry Christmas.”

You mumble the greeting back and get your bearings, suddenly sitting up straight and turning the bedside table light on. 

“You’re back? Are you hurt?”

He doesn’t answer and it takes a few seconds for your eyes to adjust. He is hurt. Really hurt. 

John has showered but hasn’t put a shirt on. He’s sitting on the side of the bed in just his boxers. 

“Oh god, what happened to you?” You reach for the worst cut and John grabs your hand. 

“It’s really not that bad.” He tells you softly, probably knowing you won’t believe him. 

You fling the bed covers off and kneel on the bed to start your inspection. He gives up trying to stop you and sighs with contentment, leaning his head back as you thread your fingers through his hair. No blood there. His face has scratches and cuts along his forehead and across the bridge of his nose. A gash on the corner of his lip. His arms are dotted with light bruises now but you know they’ll get darker with time. His knuckles are clotted with blood. 

The tattoos aren’t disturbed at all but his chest will have more scars to add to his collection, the longest across his ribcage but it isn’t deep. His kneecaps look swollen and puffy red. You don’t even want to think how they got that way. 

“See, I told you it wasn’t that bad.” He says when you’re finished and sit back on the mattress.

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” 

“That’s fair.” He grunts and lays down next to you, clearly in pain as his bones and joints try to function. 

“Well? Did you get him?”

He closes his eyes. “Of course.”

“And all of his… helpers? Guards? I don’t even know.”

John tries to smile but it hurts too much. “Yeah.”

There are so many more questions you want to ask but don’t know where to start. “Was it in and out like you thought?”

“Not exactly.” You wait and see if he’ll continue on his own. You don’t want to press too hard. “There might’ve been a car chase. I might’ve gotten hit by a car.”

You smack your forehead in disbelief. Internal bleeding. He totally has internal bleeding and he’s going to die in his sleep.

“Stop overthinking it. I’m fine. It’s not the first time… this has happened.”

You gulp and lay next to him, your eyes glued to his chest to watch him breathe. “Sure. Right. No problem. Shutting up now.”

“Can you get the light?”

You hesitate. 

“Honey, I’m fine. I promise.”

You roll your eyes because he can’t see you and lift up to switch off the lamp. Gently, you press your hand on his chest, right over his lungs. It’s decided. After Christmas you’re taking first aid classes, despite your disdain for blood. You’ll get over it. 

The next morning you wake up to John staring expectantly at you now. 

“How was the chicken?”

A laugh bursts out of you because really? “Really? That’s what you’re asking me right now?”

“Well yeah, that was our Christmas Eve dinner. I wanted it to be good.”

Oh god, this man. You kiss him and help him up, wincing as he grunts and groans in pain. “Merry fucking Christmas.” You tell him sarcastically but at least you’re together. 

Both of you wash up and you head downstairs to start breakfast. John takes awhile to get downstairs and you don’t hear anything for a few minutes so you decide to see what he’s doing. He’s standing in the living room just staring at the ceramic jolly Santa statue you put on the coffee table. 

His gaze turns to the fireplace where you’ve placed three stockings, two of them stuffed full of presents. 

Now, considering how John is beaten up, you feel silly. 

“Shit. Yeah, um. Last night I figured why not put some stuff up and then I forgot about it. I can take it down, it’s dumb.”

John is sore but he manages to grab your hand. “Baby, please let me enjoy this. It’s beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful.” You whisper to him. “Even battered and bruised.” 

He knows how hard it is for you to tell him such things so he doesn’t make it a big deal. He just squeezes your hand and moves to make a fire. The coffee smells like it’s done and you make two cups. Snuggling on the couch, Pooch joins in for pets after coming in from outside. 

There’s a light snow dusting on the bushes and treetops. The sun is trying to break through the clouds but it doesn’t look promising. As far as you’re concerned, it’s the perfect Christmas Day. 

John is slightly brooding while he sips his coffee and glares at the ice pack you grabbed for his knees. “This is not the way I thought our first Christmas would go.”

“Oh yeah? Please enlighten me.”

You can’t be certain, but you think John flushes. “Well, I just thought we might...”

“Ah.” Now you understand. You’ve been wondering why John has been evading your advances lately. He wanted it to be special and every time you’ve tried to hint that final step would be okay, he’s on to something else to distract you with… usually his fingers, his mouth, his tongue. It makes you tremble and ache in the best way possible. 

“Does um, everything hurt?” You glance down to his crotch and he laughs. 

“Maybe I’ll take a few pain pills, huh?”

You smile and don’t bring it up again. You’re not really disappointed and more relieved that the pressure is off. 

“Can you open your presents so I can relax? I’m starting to get nervous you won’t like them.”

He looks at you like you’re crazy. “Why did you get me anything? You didn’t have to do that.”

“Oh but I did.” You get Pooch’s stocking first and empty the whole thing on the carpet. John has to hold his ribs when he laughs as Pooch runs around the room at full speed with his new toy in his mouth. 

Before John can protest again you get his stocking and unload it for him, explaining as you go. “Gummy bears to remind you of our first movie date. Epson salt for your sore muscles to soak and you’re taking a bath later, no arguing please and thank you. An Italian cookbook because that’s your favorite. A new black tie but I don’t think this is as nice as your other ones but well, whatever and oh!” You forgot about the bigger package behind the couch. “A small space heater for the basement because it’s cold down there.”

John just stares in awe as you ramble on and on, then pulls you in for a kiss. It tastes like coffee and blood. 

A few hours later John brings you upstairs for your gift. He opens the guest room door and it’s now fully furnished with a bed, a sitting couch and a desk. The walls are painted a light lilac and you can tell he had help picking out the décor. He explains that this is your space to work, rest, whatever you want. He doesn’t say anything about moving in, but he does mention that you can spend more time here now. 

He tells you he’d like to take you to get your first tattoo, if you want. When you tell him you’ve been thinking about getting a cross, or a wolf, or maybe a rosery he takes you in his arms and doesn’t let you go for awhile. He just holds you for as long as you’ll let him, until you know he’s probably stiff and needs to stretch his sore muscles. 

When you’re cleaning upstairs and making the bed while he’s resting on the couch downstairs, you find a book under his pillow that is half way read. It’s How to Love Someone with Anxiety and even though John didn’t give it to you, that’s the best gift you could have ever received. 

TBC

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[of-many-fandomss]

I know that I’m probably gonna get absolutely no takers but I was rewatching Speed (1994) and would anyone be interested in me writing/ opening requests to write for Jack Traven??

[iovesia]

𐚁֙࿐ MEET THE WICKS.

keanu mlist.⠀ 𑇓 ⊹ ᳝ ࣪ ⠀boyfriend's dad!john wick⠀𝑥⠀f!reader.

synopsis. fucking your boyfriend's dad was surely one way to leave a good first impression.

contents. cheating all around. everyone sucks here. ooc!john. large age gap (20s/40s). non-john wick universe au. outdoor sex. size difference. tummy bulge. 4.4k words.

⋆ 𓂃 ﾟ .⠀josie's little note: hello hello ! a happy new years to you guys, and here's a gift! i haven't been terribly active lately, i know— so hopefully this makes up for it ♡ haven't written a proper fic in ages so i kinda of hate this ://

“MY PARENTS ARE GONNA LOVE YOU.” 

You side eye your boyfriend at his reassuring smile, his hand on the wheel as the two of you drive further up the mountain to his parent’s home. You finally worked up the courage to meet your boyfriend, Michael’s parents. Having procrastinated this moment for almost two years, Michael finally wore you down to saying yes.

The rows of thick, dark trees trapped the two of you on this thin road up the mountains. Pearly white snowflakes float gently down on your window, your chilled breath creating a small fog as you reach to turn the heat up in the vehicle.

“Your parents are gonna think you fell and hit your head,” you roll your eyes. 

“Oh c’mon!” Michael tuts, letting out a little huff. His eyes focused heavily on the road ahead, turning the wheel as the car took a left. “You’re way too hard on yourself.”

Truth be told you could’ve gone your whole life without meeting his parents. The prestiges Wicks. Michael was not the son of any run of the mill family, but rather the son of two CEOs of the largest cybersecurity companies in the world, while all your achievements were golden-sticker-on-a-piece-of-homework level at best.

“Says the kid of billionaires,” you say dismissively.

“Millionaires,” he corrects cheekily, earning a playful punch to the arm. “Baby, you gotta relax.. I love you, so by default my parents will love you too— or at least be nice enough to pretend.”

“Not funny, Michael,” your little whines turn into a soft laugh as your boyfriend chuckles. The two of you continue the drive up to Michael’s parents home. You two engage in nonchalant conversation that was periodically interrupted by a series of texts. Occasionally glancing over to Michael’s phone, you see the name “Maggie” popping up.

The hairs on your neck stand up, and your palms sweat onto the leather seat, but Michael’s soft smile reassures you .. a little.

Hours go by before he finally pulls up to the home and your jaw drops. Your eyes meet the sight of the gorgeous villa, decked with greystone walls with a light wooden trim. A small cobblestone bridge that goes over the infinity pool, leading to the large front door with crystal clear windows. This isolated winter wonderland of a villa (that Michael downplayed heavily— the ever humble man he is) was to be your home for Christmas. 

“Michael! This place is—”

“Smaller than the one in Italy, but my mother wanted something cozy.”

Your eye twitches a little at how dismissively he talks about this house. His nonchalant demeanour as he parks his car in the driveway of a home you’d never even be able to afford a fraction of. You simply nod, then unbuckle your seatbelt.

Ping.

You glance down at Michael’s hand, which quickly flips the phone face down. 

“Pretty popular, huh?” You joke half-heartedly, trying to probe a reaction. Michael smiles at you, shrugging his shoulders. Noticing his shoulders tense up, you try to ignore the pit in your stomach. The two of you get out of the car and unload your suitcases.

Each step across the small bridge and to the front door felt in slow motion, your heartbeat thumping your ears.

“You’re gonna be fine, baby,” Michael reassures, before ringing the doorbell.

Beat.

Beat.

Beat.

Click.

The heavy slategray door glides open slowly, and your fake smile plasters on at the sight of Michaels’ parents. Helen Wick, a graceful woman in her late 30’s. Her flat ironed brunette hair hugged her soft face, and her smile accentuated the faint laugh lines.

On the other hand, her husband John, the older of the pair, stood stoically. His black hair, and black eyes matched with his simple black slacks and button up protruded his muscles. His dark aura almost sucked the light out the area as he stood tall next to his happy wife. Helen’s hazel eyes meet yours as she hides her surprise with a plastic grin.

“Oh Mikey… she’s beautiful!” Helen exclaims, her voice a little pitched. 

Michael nudges your shoulder as Helen wraps her arms around you, giving you a stiff hug. You could smell the expensive Chanel No 5 from her neck, and the Michael Kors blouse was silk and soft against your hands as you hugged her back. Mr. Wick, remaining unimpressed as ever, simply watched the interaction unfold.

This was gonna be a long Christmas.

Dinner was painfully awkward. The scratching of gold silverware on the rare china plates filled the air. Inside their villa was just as impressive as the out. The warm lights of the christmas decor and the glorious christmas tree illuminated the luxurious dining room. You rest your elbow on their mahogany table, calmly taking a bite of your roasted turkey.

“Elbows, dear,” Helen hums from across from you, her tone almost motherly. Glancing down at your elbow, you flush embarrassed as you lean back against your chair. Michael sips his wine next to you, sighing at his mother’s uptight behaviour. 

John seems to be the quietest of them all, although you can feel his intense stare from across the table. The older man intimidates you to no-end, and some part of you is desperate to earn some form of approval from him. You always liked a challenge.

“So..” Helen breaks the silence again, clearing her throat. The light shines on her expensive bracelets and rings that adorn her hand as she sets her fork and knife down. “Tell us how you met our Michael.”

Michael and you share a glance, and he subtly urges you to speak. You smile softly, sipping your liquid courage before speaking. “We met at the diner I work at. Michael was always a regular, and refused to let anyone but me serve him,” You giggle at the memory, and Michael blushes.

“You’re a waitress?” John chimes in. You swallow at how low and husk his voice was, and you finally meet his dark orbs piercing into you. Like a little ant under a magnifying glass; his simple question felt like a heavy exam, and you were determined to pass.

“Yes.. It’s called Daisy’s Diner on Victory Boulevard” You furrow your brows, a little confused. “Didn’t Michael tell you..?”

“He led us to believe you owned a diner.. Not working in one..” John hums, seemingly returning to his unaffected attitude. Your lips are slightly parted in surprise, and heat rushes to your cheeks as you side eye Michael. He avoids your gaze, focusing down at his plate. 

“You told them I owned a food chain?” You huff, annoyance dripping in your voice. The dinner lasted for what seemed forever before the sun finally set and each couple retreated to their respective bedrooms. “Michael, what the hell?”

“It’s not a big deal,” Michael rolls his eyes, fluffing up one of the pillows. He rubs his eyes tiredly, and you can tell he’s getting agitated. “It’s fine— they didn’t mind.”

“Oh really?” You scoff, putting your silk pyjamas shorts on. “He led us to believe you owned a diner.. Not working in one..” you mock John’s voice, making your own deep and nasally. 

“My dad does not sound like a nasally Christopher Walken, but okay,” Michael snorts at your impersonation. You toss a pillow at him, hitting his chest.

“Not the point, Michael! You were supposed to be on my side, you just fed me to the wolves!”

“Grow up— you had an awkward conversation with my parents, it wasn’t the end of the world!”

“The whole point of this weekend was to get them to like me! You just sat there cutting your turkey into a million pieces!” The air in the room was thick with tension, the two of your moods souring as your voices raise. You wished your boyfriend had a spine, and he wished you didn’t have one. Letting out another huff, you grab your toiletries purse and head to leave the bedroom to go brush your teeth.

The brightly lit home was now dark and empty, aside from the moonlight shining in through the bright windows. You glance out, and see the snow top mountains faded behind a thick fog as you walk down the hall; feet padding softly on the cold wood.

When you finished in the bathroom, you were hardly paying attention as you opened the door, eyes half shut. Your face instantly pummels into something hard, making your eyes blink rapidly. A quiet hmph can be heard above you, and your eyes dart up to meet John’s. He stood there blankly, wearing nothing but his briefs.

Your face flushed with utter humiliation and you turned your head away. “Sorry— um— I didn’t see you—”

“Wrong bathroom.”

“Huh?” You raise a brow.

“You’re in my wife and I’s bathroom,” He repeats slowly, his tone slightly condescending. His chest rises as he takes a breath, and you can help but watch each muscle that twitches; feeling your throat go dry. You get lost in analysing the tattoos on his arms and shoulders that were so well hidden by his button up. 

“Oh..” you clear your throat, snapping out of it. “Sorry.. Michael told me this was the guest one..”

“Michael tells you a lot of things that are not true it seems,” John hums, a curious look on his face.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

No reply.

John simply shrugs, and shifts to the side, allowing you to pass him and you can’t help but take a peek at his toned back. For an older man, he seemed to take care of his body well. His defined muscles, covered in ink of religious tattoos and Latin proverbs, intrigued you to find out more. 

“It’s rude to stare,” his deep voice is in a low whisper as he shuts the bathroom door behind him, not even glancing back at you. Embarrassed and fascinated, you hurry back to yours and Michael’s room where you find him already asleep, his mouth open wide as he snores. His typically irritating habits of snoring loudly and taking up space seemed to be the least of your concerns as your mind is flooded with images of his father.

His father’s voice.. His father’s tattoos.. His father’s v-line that disappeared under his briefs.. 

You were too distracted to even notice Maggie had texted again.

The following days leading up to Christmas were suffocating to say the least. Unless Helen was there to kindly offer comedic relief or keep John occupied— it was as though you were constantly invigilated. Any anecdotes you told, the way you skied when the four of you went, how much or how little PDA you showed Michael: it was one big test, and you were failing, hard. 

You had no clue why you were desperate to please Michael’s father. Helen was easy enough to win over.. Perhaps it’s just the masochist in you, but his condescending words began to make you bashful, rather than embarrassed.

Michael’s been aware of your strange behaviour but can’t seem to put his finger on it. Worst part was you knew why he was suspicious— he was projecting. It seemed this trip to get you closer with his parents, ended up straining your own. 

“She’s a co-worker— fuck— I can’t keep explaining this to you!” Michael snaps defensively.

“Lower your voice— your parents are right there!” You hiss. The two of you stand outside on the back patio of the villa. Flames from the fireplace crackle, leaving an orange hue on both your faces. The sound of soft wind and smell of dinner oozing from the inside almost created a romantic atmosphere.

Had it not been for Maggie.

“What kind of co-worker texts you on PTO?” You whisper shout. Michael groans, rubbing his eyes as he turns away from you. “She’s been texting you everyday since this trip and it’s not the first time.”

“I’m busy— I work a lot. It’s probably about a project,” your boyfriend replies, almost being unconvincing on purpose. “You’re so goddamn nosy.”

“Nosy? I’m here meeting your parents and you’re probably sexting some random girl right now.”

“She’s not some random fucking girl.”

Your face drops. Your brows furrow together, the anger fading into a gentle hurt. The silence is deafening, and there’s zero remorse in Michael’s eyes for what he’s saying. A stunning realisation sets in that this Maggie is no longer just a notification you notice on his screen— but an actual person who Michael might harbour actual feelings for.

“Michael?” You ask quietly. "Who is she?"

Michael runs his hand through his hair, lips pursed as a sharp sigh escapes. His head hands low, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Agitation fills his figure to the brim, and another pregnant pause occurs. You pinch your thumbnail into your palm, anxiously waiting for his next word.

It never comes.

Michael just mutters to himself as he walks off the patio back inside, sliding the glass door shut loudly. You stand there in the cold, desolate quiet. A thousand thoughts running through your head, but your body stood still— unmoving. What felt like minutes, was hours as the lights inside the villa eventually turned off.

You sat on one of the lounge chairs in a small ball, knees to your chest and your stare fixated on the flames flickering. The ember fire warms your body, but can’t reach your frozen heart. For a strange reason.. Your eyes were dry, your lips weren’t trembling. Rather than a wave of sadness or betrayal— there’s a black hole, numbing you from the inside out. 

“(Y/N)?”

Turning your head to the side, you hear the glass door slide open and a tall silhouette emerges from the darkened villa. The moonlight glowed on his face, his black t-shirt and pyjamas sweats only accentuating his pale figure. 

“Hello.. Mr. Wick,” You clear your throat, pulling your knees closer to your chest. His faint footsteps become louder as he walks over to you, his looming shadow dimming the fireplace for a second before sitting next to you.

Here he was. The man who shamelessly steered clear of you like water and oil. The man who squinted his eyes at every word you said. The man who was now sitting right next to you in the dead of night.. His legs manspreading a little too close for comfort.

Your leg twitches a little, either from pure anxiety or the Vermont air breezing past your almost bare skin. Perhaps a thin Henley shirt and jeans were not the best choice of clothing, you scold yourself. 

Occasionally you glance over at the older man, who simply sits hunched over, his elbows resting on his knees with his fingers interlocked with each other. The gold of his wedding ring glowed like a red warning sign. You were surrounding an intimate fireplace inches away from a married man— your boyfriend’s married father. 

“So um—”

“You alright?”

He cuts your sentence off as usual.. But there was a sincerity in his question, albeit his blank expression. Your face softens with genuine surprise, and you scratch your arm, adjusting your sitting position. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you lie.

“Fine with the way Michael talks to you?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you shrug. The lines of appropriate conversation topics began to blur, and you worry that trash-talking your boyfriend to his father was definitely crossing something.

“I apologise for his behaviour.” This dude’s a fucking paradox.

“What?”

“Helen and I never raised Michael to raise his voice at a woman, let alone curse at you. And for that I apologise,” John repeats blankly. His amiable words were dampened by his impassive body language and tone. 

Was he serious? Was it sarcasm? Was it a test for your reaction?

“Thank you” was your safe option, and he nods at your reply, still not even looking your way. Your leg continues twitching anxiously— and this he notices.

“Cold?” John asks.

“What?”

“Your leg.”

Like an obedient pet, you stop your twitching immediately. You hug yourself a bit, leaning back against the lounge couch, trying to create some distance. John mimics your movements, letting out a soft sigh as he does so. As he rolls his shoulders back— a soft crack hissing— his left arm lifts and reaches back, wrapping around your shoulders.

Eyes widened. Heart beating. Throat dry.

This was definitely crossing the line.

“Mr. Wick—” 

“John.”

Chewing your bottom lip anxiously, you shift in your seat again, but his arm remains firm around your shoulders, gently pulling you against his side.

“John..” the name feels foreign on your tongue. “What are you doing?”

“You can do better than Michael.”

His words almost make you chuckle— if it wasn’t for your chest tightening. Your brows snap together as you look at him, full of confusion. The entire week you spent trying to impress, and show you were good enough for Michael son— only to be met with such.. Praise? Could you even call it that?

“You’re kidding, right?”

“You don’t think so?”

“Well..” you pause, repeating the phrase in your head over and over. “You spent this past week completely tearing me down, and mocking me.. Where’s all this coming from now?” Tenacity laced in your voice, and for the first time, John’s pink lips pull into a small smile.

“So just because I’m not explicitly praising your every movement means I’m tearing you down? Are you truly that desperate for me to approve of you?” John licks his teeth, a rare chuckle leaving his mouth. Heat rushes to your face at his taunt. 

“I don’t need your approval..” you weakly defend. John tilts his head slightly, his dark eyes surveying you before leaning back. You’re almost disappointed at his retrieval of his arm, letting your warm skin cool down. 

“You have it.”

If you jaw wasn’t dropped already, it was on the floor by now. 

“You’re nice girl, and you're humble. A diner is hard, honest work. I wasn’t born the boss— everyone has to start somewhere, and I respect that.”

“So why act so.. disappointed?” You stammer, eyes blinking rapidly. 

“I was disappointed my son had the balls to lie to me,” John clears his throat. “Lied about where you work, when you met.. He was born with a golden spoon in his mouth, of course he doesn’t respect you.”

He doesn’t respect you.

“... He loves me,” you whisper, almost in denial. But deep down in your frozen heart, you knew the truth. All the arguments, the dismissive tone, the hiding were physical proof right in front of your nose.

“That’s not the same thing,” John hums. “He’s cursing you out at his parent’s home— my home— I can only imagine what else he must be doing.”

You don’t know the half of it, is what you wanted to say. But for the sake of not burning bridges, you kept your lips shut. Suddenly, the pad’s of John's finger brush a strand of hair from your face. His touch was electric. Warm. Intoxicating. Merely a bristle of his touch made your chest tighten.

"Michael was right about one thing.. You are beautiful.”

Before you could come to your senses, your soft lips were enraptured with eyes. He swallows your little squeal of surprise, and your back meets the arm of the couch. A ringing echoes in your ear, like a bomb going off. Your boyfriend’s father.. had just made a move on you.

And you like it.

His tongue slips past your lips, meeting yours. You feel his warm big hand cupping at your hip, the other slipping under your thigh to lay you down better on the couch. His taller frame was much bigger now that it hovered over you, keeping you firmly pinned. 

“J-John— stop— we can’t!” You manage to pull your face to the side, your lips leaving his. “Your wife— and my boyfriend— your son are right upstairs! Their rooms are right—”

“So you better be quiet then.”

His firm tone sends shivers down your spine, and you were once again suffocated with his lips. The sound of your jeans unbuttoning hits your ears and you realise there’s no turning back. Your mind flashes with moments of this week where you ogled his body. 

No longer were your dreams of his tough hands, his manly shoulders or deep voice just a distant fantasy.. but now a reality. You let out a sharp gasp, when you feel pressure on your nub. His sneaky fingers managed their way under your thin panties. His painstakingly slow circles had you squirming like a puppy.

John chuckles at your needy little whines, looking down at your face and watching as it twists into growing pleasure. Ignoring the cold mountain wind, the two of you are quick to shred your pants, drinking in the absolute tabooness of the situation.

Your nails dig into couch pillows, your leg resting over his shoulder. John hisses softly, his large tip barely kissing your entrance. Your eyes trail away from his gorgeous face up to the open window on the second floor. The lights were off, and a small pit of guilt filled your stomach. But soon to be filled with something else, when John suddenly leans in, letting his tip slide past your folds.

“Fuck—” You bite your lip hard. A baritone chuckle echoes through the empty patio and he continues to slowly slide in, stretching your tiny hole out to the brim. The wind promptly knocked out your lungs as your eyes almost rolled back. 

“Look at you.. taking it all in like a good little girl,” John taunts but it only makes you throb, clenching tight around him. You blink rapidly trying to focus, but his mocking coos only fluster you more. “Oh.. someone’s enjoying this.. You like when I praise you, don’t you?”

His hips begin at a gradual pace, and you slap your hand over your mouth, desperately trying to swallow your moans and whimpers. John’s longish black hair was covering most of his face, as he leaned down. Your knee was almost to your face, and you whine at the burn in your legs.

“Y-Yes— I do—” You admit bashfully. Thrust by thrush, his hips rut faster and faster against your small frame. The sound of his heavy balls hitting the curve of your ass were so sinful and sticky, and you feared Helen or Michael hearing you two. 

“So desperate to make a good impression..” John’s hand rests above your pussy, completely fixated on the small bump his large cock is causing. His tip kisses your cervix as he fills your spongy walls, a thin white ring forming at the base. “...that you’re slutting yourself out to a man twice your age.”

His mean tone and jeering words make your eyes water with humiliation, but your moans sing a different tune. John lets out a groan as your cunt flutters around him, shifting his grip to your waist, and his fingers pinching painfully.

“Such a filthy little girl..” he coos in your ear. You squeal girlishly against your hand, biting down on your finger. John drinks in the teary look in your doe eyes, the way they almost roll back in pleasure. Your soft lips around your finger, as you clamp down hard when he begins to toy with your breast. “With such pretty tits— and such soft skin.”

John’s head dips down, his lips wrap around one of your nipples and you let out a loud cry. He’s quick to bite when you slip up and start making too much noise. The feel of his tongue swirling your bud, and his cock plunging in and out of you was too much, and the knot in your belly tightened.

“Ohmygod— fuck—” You whisper and pant as quietly as you can. John laughs against your skin, his hands like magic as they hit every button that makes you squeal. 

“Baby needed a real man to make her feel good, hm?” John asks rhetorically and you nod hurriedly through tears, as you lie a babbling mess under his powerful stature. He continues fucking you relentlessly, each thrust beginning to bruise your poor pussy. 

“D-Don’t stop— please— ohgod—” You stammer and sob.

John leans back up, but keeps your thigh pressed to your chest with his hand. Running another hand through his black locks, and wiping the sweat off his hairline, he groans harshly. The bulge in your stomach popping up and down kept the blood rushing to his cock.

“Gonna cum inside— make you all nice and full,” He pants. “You want that, hm?”

“Yes— yes please— please—” You don’t even care how pathetic you sound. How needy you sounded. Like all sound of mind flew out the window the moment you came here. The moment he even wrapped his arm around you. 

His abs contort and his thrusts began to get sloppier. He gripped your soft hips like a vessel, like he owned you. John grins devilishly at your pretty little cries and pleas, enjoying how much you craved him.

“God you make the prettiest noises— all for me, hm? Just for me,” John hisses, snapping his hips faster against you as his fingers work skillfully on your bundle of nerves, sending waves through your trembling legs. 

You let out an embarrassingly loud squeal, wallens tightening around his thick girth when you feel climax approaching. He shoots ropes of his warm seed inside you, filling you to the brim.

The air is filled with the sound of your weak moans and his quiet pants. Your bodies drenched in sweat, and the Vermont wind is painfully cold now as the passion fades. The thirst of desperation was now quenched with guilt and horror as you realised what you’ve done.

John returns to his blank expression, pulling out of you with a sloppy sound. You wince when his fingers wipe your sensitive folds, collecting his cum on his fingers as he pushes it back inside you. “These pillows are expensive.”

You lie there in shock at how nonchalantly he behaves: like he didn’t just ravage his son’s girlfriend on the couch, leaving her covered in lovebites and full of warm cum. You watch as he tucks himself back into his sweats, and heads back inside the villa.

Soon enough you follow suit, and dress yourself to come back inside. The house was dark and empty, presumably everyone was asleep at this point. You tiptoe to your room with Michael, and thankfully he lies snoring away— unaware what you just committed.

You change into fresh panties and pyjamas, feeling John’s sticky cum on your thighs as it leaks out of you. The betrayal and sin leaks from your skin as you climb into bed, and guilt drips from your pores when Michael wraps his arm around you. 

Guilt that you wish it was John’s arm instead.

Fin.

john wick taglist : @hamburgerslippers @alwaysinblck @emosludge @nwheregirl @beansricejc @sughcashsaiki @namjoons-crabssss @97keanu @scream-queen-25 @gea-chan96 @slutforsoldierboy @hamburgerslippers @dreamgirlhammett @ilovedilfs4ever @aerangi @spacemonkeyfitz @danne-blr-blog @hqkkinen @Faowhe @indiadnm

໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১⠀join/remove from my taglist.

© 𝐈𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐀, 2023. do not copy, repost or translate my works.

[generalkenobee]

Bodyguard!John Wick who has to follow you everywhere, always lurking behind you like a silent shadow

Bodyguard!John Wick Who definitely glares at anyone you're talking to, god forbid if it's a boy from your school or a boyfriend

Bodyguard!John Wick who always puts your priorities before his own and who would do anything for you at any cost

Bodyguard!John Wick who has to tag along to stupid events such as shopping at the mall, or going into Victoria secret for a new bra because he has to make sure you're safe

Bodyguard!John Wick who is so much bigger then you in every aspect that it's almost funny to watch this large man follow a sweet little thing through a bath and body works

Bodyguard!John Wick who is always honest when you ask his opinion on a new frilly dress you bought (he was there obviously but it's still fun to play dress up) he'd sit on the edge of your bed while you spun around for him asking what he thought

Bodyguard!John Wick who thinks you're the cutest thing ever with how you view the world. In contrast to some of the horrors he's seen you always seem so happy

[eternalslover]

WHY IS THERE NO WRITING FOR KEANU REEVES CHARACTERS IM ACTUALLY GOING BALLISTIC, I WANT HIM SO BAD WOOF WOOF GRRR, GOING ACTUALLY FERAL, PLEASE SOMEONE WRITE ABOUT HIM, MATRIX, JOHN WICK, BILL AND TED, CONSTANTINE, MATRIX, MATRIX, MATRIX DID I MENTION MATRIX PLEASE SOMEONE WRITE ABOUT HIS CHARACTER FROM THE MATRIX

WHERE DID MY CLOTHING GO?!?! I WANT HIM SO BAD HONESTLY HOW CAN YOU NOT WRITE ABOUT HIM?? ANGST, FLUFF, SMUT ECT ECT BIG ON FLUFF AND ANGST, THERE IS JUST SO MUCH SMUT IN THE WORLD BUT I WILL TAKE ANYTHING

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet 🖤 a yandere!john wick x fem!reader coffee shop sunshine/grump au

Table of Contents

something sweet

burned

the cougar

the mountain

lamb in the lion's den

avenging angel

the book thief

joyride

pest

drunk text

mondo piccolo

la dolce vita

vino veritas

kitten

walk of shame

bad girl

got u

war and peace

crime and punishment

lost and found

bound for hell

deal with the devil

show me your teeth

bully

knots

breaking point

surprise

haunted

lady of the daisies

say something

run

hard lesson

suits & guns

quite continental

purgatory

tbc...

[ruskaroma]

Absolutely fucking adore the idea of Constantine having a very talkative and energetic little human around that he calls “bunny” and treats you like one, treats you like a pet.

You really think that you’re Constantine’s sidekick because you follow him around everywhere he goes and you’re basically living in his apartment because you just – never – fucking – leave. No matter what Constantine does, no matter how mean he treats you, you just can’t bring yourself to hate him because he just might be the only light you have in your life – which is a weird thing to say considering Constantine probably possesses the most darkest mind in the world and you haven’t even seen half of it.

When he’s in a good mood, he’d treat you out for a dinner and actually conversates with you like a normal human being (even though nothing about him – or you – is normal) and tell demon and angel stories you’d always find yourself drawn into, chin on your palm, wide doe eyes while listening to his deep voice talk.

Most of the time you’d get very excited about something and very eager to learn that you’re practically vibrating in your seat. It’s such a normal occurrence to Constantine that he knows how to deal with you when you’re in that state of mind.

“Wait so – if demons and angels exist, is there a possibility that vampires are also true? Are they real? Please, tell me they’re real – I mean, have you ever met one before, John? God, that would be so freaking cool. I always wanted to be a vampire –”

Constantine lets you talk. Even though he wouldn’t quite grasp the other words that you’re saying because he really feels like you’re rapping instead of talking. Not to mention the hand movements you’d do while you spew random little facts out of nowhere, or when you’d remember a memory from childhood that you’ll end up telling him; Constantine really does find you quite adorable.

And you’re a bit energetic too. Well, a bit wouldn’t really cover it. You’re full blown energetic who sometimes acts like you drank five cans of caffeine the moment you open your eyes, but Constantine knows all your energy is natural and comes from your heart.

You wouldn’t be able to sit down next to him at a diner without your hands fiddling with something or when you just really… couldn’t keep your mouth shut. It’s a hard thing to do, really. 

Then there’s Constantine, who likes to take advantage of your behavior by saying something really perverted and inappropriate.

“Hey, bunny.”

“What?”

“Would my cock be enough to get you to stop talking?”

“Good one. But that would only make it a lot worse.”

“I know. I’ve heard it,” he’d snicker, then would press a kiss on your cheeks that would make you flutter and scoff in annoyance. He always smelled like cigarettes and something minty. “I’m joking, bun.”

“Yeah, it would be a joke if it wasn’t true,” you rolled your eyes. “You’ve witnessed my mouth doing a lot more work than usual when I’m sucking your dick.”

“Well, you should be proud of yourself, bun. Looks like your mouth got more talent other than talking.”

“Haha, very funny.”

His comments like that don’t really offend you or anything because you know he’s joking. You know he secretly loves your rambles despite being mean about it, because that’s just how he is.

But during sex, it’s a whole different story.

Constantine has a habit of making you cry on the bed by making your rambles even worse. He knows that you ramble when you’re either feeling flustered, nervous, or horny, and most of the time you get all those feelings at once when you’re in front of his cock, which means a sudden flip of the switch inside your brain just goes off and you start saying these deliciously filthy words that never fails to make Constantine hard.

“What’s that, little bun? I didn’t hear you,” Constantine smirked, voice teasing as his hand gripped the base of his thick cock, smearing the dripping tip all over your lips as you struggled to catch your breath after he fucked your throat. “Where did my little talkative bunny go, hm? Why is she not talking?”

“J–John–”

“Oh? What’s that? Is the little bunny speaking?” Constantine mocked, pulled his dick away from your mouth as he gripped your chin with one hand. “If my bunny wants my attention, that’s not the right name she should be addressing me, yeah? Already forgot our rules around here, bun? I let you get a taste of my cock and you’re already defying me?”

“No–no, no, d-daddy, that’s not–that’s not what I mean,” you sniffled, your eyes getting teary from your kneeling position as well as when you heard Constantine’s mocking voice above you. “Daddy, please–just want–just want your cock in my pussy again, p-please–”

“Oh, you do? Poor little bunny is so wet and horny now, hm? My little bunny is feeling so empty?”

“Y-yes, daddy, I–I feel so empty–”

“Look at you crying. You look so pathetic,” he grinned, grabbing you by the hair and throwing you on the bed. You were already naked, already covered in bruises from the makeout session earlier and the handprint on your ass was starting to become more evident and red as minutes went by. “Where does my bunny want daddy’s cock, huh? Where do you want it, bun, tell me.”

“I–In my–In my pussy, daddy, want it in my–my cunny–” you sniffled again, pawing at his shoulders as your tears were starting to blur your vision. “Daddy, please–please, I want you so bad–miss your cock so much, feel so empty and wet and I just wanna–”

“Shhh, bun, I know. I know what you want,” he petted your hair with one hand while his other was guiding his cock in your cunt, the fat tip circling teasingly on your already puffy pussy lips and not quite going in. “Wish I could record you like this and make you watch it after. Fucking show you how filthy you are while begging for my cock. All the dirty shit you say when you’re so desperate for me.”

You keened, nodding absentmindedly even though you didn’t understand a single word he said. Your mind was only focusing on the delicious feeling of his cock rubbing against your sloppy cunt.

“Yes–yes, please, daddy, d-do what you want–do want you want, I’m yours–bunny is all yours–”

“That’s right. That’s my little bunny, knowing her place and where she rightfully belongs,” Constantine grinned, and it was only then he slammed his cock all the way inside you, stretching your walls wide as you bite onto his shoulders to keep yourself from waking up the entire building. “I would choose this tight little pussy over entering the fucking gates of heaven.”

[greenmanalishi]

[matthew-gray-gublers-babygirl]

Safe - John Wick x Fem!Reader

Summary: John comes home from work and he is wounded, and as his worried wife, you help him.

Warnings: swearing, oral m!receiving, blood/gore, talk of violence, mainly fluff.

Enjoy!

You sit alone in your large kitchen, biting your nails and shaking your leg as you anxiously wait for your husband to come home.

His profession was extremely dangerous. Every time he went out you didn’t know if he was alive. Whenever you heard a car pass by your house, you wondered if it were the police coming to inform you that your husband had passed.

You knew that you had to make certain sacrifices that came with being married to The John Wick, the Boogie Man, as they call him.

You hear the door unlock, and your breath hitched. Running to the door, you are met with John. You wrap your arms around his neck, holding back tears as you nuzzle your face into the crook of us neck. “Oh, John…”

His hands weakily wrap around your waist. “Y/N…” he sighs, resting his chin atop your head.

Your hand trails down the chest of his suit. You find the red substance of blood on his white shirt. “You were shot?”

“Stabbed,” he says. “Not too bad. I’ve been though worse,”

You sigh. “Yeah, just stabbed.” You say sarcastically. “What if next time you get stabbed even worse, or shot, and you don’t make it through?” You question.

John gives you a saddened look. “I’m sorry, Y/N. You have a right to be mad, and worried.”

You give him an angered gaze, but it slowly fades as you hear the sincerity in his voice. You lean up to kiss him. “You’re right,” you say.

You take him to the kitchen where you strip him of his suit jacket and button up shirt. “This is going to sting,” you say. “I know,” he replies.

The wound was shallow, but it was still gushing a fair amount of blood. Once you were able to slow down the bleeding, you begin to clean it. John lightly hisses as you disinfect his wound.

You quickly bandage it neatly, then reward him with a warm kiss on his lips. “You have to stop this, John,”

“I know,” he says again. “I- I can retire, if you want.”

“Will you really do that for me?”

“Of course, baby. You are more important than work.”

You smile softly. “If you think it’s the best, then you can. I will support whatever you do,” you say. “Will you be safe?” You ask.

“We are safe. We will always be safe.”

“No, will you be safe?”

John pauses for a concerning amount of time. “I will be safe.” He says. “And if anybody comes after you, or me, I will kill them.”

“John,” you say like a disappointed mother. But, you couldn’t help but smile. You loved your mass murderer husband.

“That’s the spirit, love,” he smiles and gives you a kiss.

“You should go wash up,” you tell him. His face was cut, as well as his hair slicked back with sweat.

“Join me?”

“Very funny,” you laugh before sending him up to the bathroom to clean off the sins of the night. “Be mindful of your bandages,”

“Yes, ma’am,” John chuckled.

John finds his way to the master bathroom. He strips the rest of his clothes and got into the shower. His bandage inevitably got wet.

He ran his hands through his hair, feeling as the heterogeneous mixture of sweat, styling gel and water ran down his back. It felt so releiving to wash himself of the stress and torment of his job.

He used a musky scented soap to wash off the sweat and grime he had accumulated through the night. He exited the shower, wrapped a towel around his waist before redressing his wound.

John left the bathroom, towel still lazily around his waist. You were in bed, reading a book as you awaited for your husband to join you.

You couldn’t help but look at his chiseled abs and cutting hip bones. Of course, you also couldn’t ignore his broad shoulders and tattoo covered back.

“Y/N. You’re starring,”

“Oh,” you say. “Sorry,” you laugh, and he smirks. “Is it such a crime to appreciate my husbands body?”

“No. Just funny to call you out on it,” he says. He grabs a pair of sweatpants and slipped them on.

“Come lay down, babe,” you pull back the comforter in the empty space for him to fill. He slowly lays down, and he groans as his aching back hits the bed.

“Are you really going to retire?” You ask as your hand gently rests on his chest. You slowly draw circles on his skin, avoiding any bruised areas.

“Anything for you,”

You smile, and he slowly leans in to connect your lips in a gently kiss. “I will love you forever…” he murmurs agaisnt your lips. “I will love you when I’m below the ground, and I will love you after the earth ceases to exist…”

You rest your forehead against his, shakily sighing. “I love you, too. Always and forever…”

John kisses you again, hungerly needing your touch and presence against his skin. He gently grips your hair as he hums against your soft, pillowy lips.

His hand reaches for your waist, pulling your laying body closer to his. He squeezes your flesh though your sleep shirt. You whine at the tight squeeze.

Johns lips trail off yours, adventuring down your jaw to suck hot sores on your neck. His hand on your waist moves up, dangerously close to your chest. He cups your breast with his sore and bruised hands through your shirt, gently massaging it in his palm. He knew just how to make you fold.

“John-“ you whisper.

“What, love?”

“Not tonight. You need to heal.” You tell him.

He rests his head on your shoulder, sighing softly. “You’re right,” he whispers. “It’s just so hard to keep my hands off you.” He glances down at his lap, seeing the tent growing in his sweatpants.

“Y/N?”

“Yes, baby?” You reply.

“I- um. I know you said I have to heal. But, what am I supposed to do about that?” He asks, moving away from the crook of your neck to show the erection in his pants.

You think for a moment, keeping your eyes fixated on his bulge. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t use my hands or my mouth on you,” you tell him, and he grins.

You reach for the waistband of his sweatpants, slowly pulling them off his thighs. Johns cock springs out from his pants. He was hard and throbbing just by touching your breasts.

You grasp his length. His breath hitched at the sight of your hand around his dick. You slowly begin stroking him. You hover above him, letting a string of spit slowly dripping down onto his tip.

“Oh-“ he mumbled as the warm liquid touches his pulsating crown.

You gently kiss the tip, your hand still stroking his shaft slowly.

“Y/N…”

You whimper against his cock at the sound of his voice. You knew you had to resist him. You couldn’t risk opening his wound and causing him any pain. Hopefully an orgasm would help his aching body in some way.

You slowly take in his length. You suck the tip, humming at the salty taste of his pre-cum. You knew he wasn’t going to last too long. He never lasted long when you sucked him off.

“Just like that, baby,” he praised, “don’t stop- fuck. Don’t stop-“

You didn’t stop, and you weren’t going to stop until you pleasured him to your full ability.

You take in more of his cock. John shivered at the sight of his erection engulfed in your mouth.

“I’m close- shit. I’m gonna cum. Fuck.” He moans.

You began sucking him faster. You felt as your lips glided over the thriving veins on his cock, but always focusing on the tip. He loved it when you toyed with his tip.

His hips shudder, causing you to gag. “Sorry, baby,” he quickly says. You don’t reply, gagging again. You didn’t care if you gagged on his cock. You loved it, because you knew that you were doing good.

His hips jerk up again. He grips your hair, moaning your name as you quickly and steadily suck his cock. He began chasing his release.

“Fuck!” He moans. His eyes roll back, head hitting the pillow as his cum shoots into your mouth. You always loved the taste of his cum.

You finish him off with your hand, swallowing all his arousal as you did. Cum continued to shoot out, going all over your hand as he bucked his hips into your palm.

You happily licked it off, humming at the salty, yet at the same time, sweet taste.

“Fuck. Thank you, baby…” he whispers. The pleasure helped ease some of his pain.

“Anything for you,” you smile. You kiss him, and he tastes his own cum off your lips.

“Can I return the favour?” He asks, toying with the elastic band of your sleep shorts.

You shake your head. “Not tonight. You can in the morning once you have some rest,” you tell him. He frowns, but obeys.

“Okay,” John says. He fixes his sweatpants, and you grab a tissue off the night stand to wipe the spit and cum off your hand, and a bit of the white fluid that got on his stomach. John reachs over to turn off the bedside lamp, groaning as his body was strained to make the reach.

“Goodnight, baby…” you lay your head on his chest, yet again mindful of the bruises and cuts.

“Goodnight. I love you…” John whispers

“I love you too…”

[softcoresweetheart]

*-* 𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐂𝐊 and 𝐔𝐁𝐄𝐑-𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐕𝐈𝐑𝐆𝐈𝐍!𝐅!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 !

height diff • denied orgasm • soft-spoken praise • vaginal fingering • light sensory play • shy reader . . . . .

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 3.3k

𝐏𝐑𝐄́𝐂𝐈𝐒: John's noticed your darkened ears and gentle gasps at even the faintest of his touches. He wants to play around with this a little... ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) 

𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂. 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒: This turned out WAY fluffier than I intended. John is a super sweetie with his baby. I was surprised to see just how active the community is over here for Keanu content! Was planning to keep my works relegated to AO3, buuuuut figured I might as well post some little things here. Kinda stuck on my longfic project for now... so, uh... yeah. I hope whoever reads this enjoys it, at least!

Your breaths fell from your lips in quiet, shaky gasps as you watched him take a knee before you with an uncannily fluid grace. You couldn't help the anxiety that licked at your belly in that moment. What are you doing? The words were caught in the back of your throat, strangling what little composure you had left. You watched his hands; pale and rough, rest over your knees. His thumbs idly smoothed back and forth there almost reverently; and the chill that ran up your spine was quite obvious as your shoulders lifted, your chest slightly convexing outwards for the briefest of moments.

You weren't sure why it happened. He'd walked in on you all settled into his black leather armchair, all soft legs and innocence in the quiet tranquility of a summer's evening, and maybe he just thought it was time. He knew you. He knew how, with even just a hover of his hand over your lower back, your hair would stand on end. He could see the way the humidity made the thin cotton fabric of your nightie cling to your heated skin, and he felt that it was time.

There was an intentional pause in the air between the two of you. The intensity in his eyes was subdued, clouded with some kind of hot-blooded need as you searched each other's gaze. He watched your lips as if expecting you to speak.

❝John...❞ Your voice was hardly audible, and the thought was left incomplete. It was entirely likely you didn't even know where you were going with it in the first place.

❝Yes, starlyetka?❞

Starlyetka. The muse of his soul in a play where there was no audience, no one to bear witness to this tumultuous love affair that unfolded under moonlit skies. The moon was your limelight, in fact; the stars flashed shutters as they cast a tempting glow over your form through long windows. His thumbs continued to trace a path of sensational sparks against your flesh.

It was only with the use of such a special pet name that you found enough confidence to ask your question: "starlyetka" a whispered prayer wrapped in John's dry, deep tones.

❝What are you doing?❞

John’s gaze then fell to the sliver of skin that peeked out from under the skirt of your nightie, and his breath ghosted over one of your thighs as he leaned in to press a sweet, lingering kiss against it. As he did, his hands began to inch upwards at a leisurely pace; pushing the fabric forward to expose more of you as they went.

❝What does it look like I’m doing? You tell me...❞ He murmured calmly, his lips still close enough that you could feel the gentle tickle of his facial hair where he spoke against you.

It felt as if your entire being was alight with sensation; goosebumps began to crop up where the man hadn't even so much as grazed you yet. You could feel him putting pressure against where his hands traveled, not forcing your legs apart but definitely guiding you in that direction. More than a little intimidated by his actions and flush with consternation, you brought your palms to your face to hide behind them, groaning against them with a not-so-sexy demeanor.

You weren't allowed time to regret your actions until you felt him pull away completely, leaving behind the ghost of his breath and palms. Your solace was limited. His eyes were still on you, and you could sense it even if you couldn't see it.

Then, you heard him say your name in an effort to capture your attention — and it sounded even more intimate than being called his starlet. You felt his hands curl around yours, strong and insistent but still measured. It was clear that he didn't want to scare you away from this even as you blinked through the darkness to focus on his handsome face. They were fraught with concern, his brows drawn together and his forehead beset with that all-to-familiar tension that happened whenever he was in the middle of some serious thought. He had a tendency to make up for his rough, withdrawn edges with an overcompensation of care for you; always handling you with a tender thoughtfulness that at times seemed beyond this world.

After a fleeting moment, his features finally softened, and he released one of your hands to rest his against the swell of your cheek. He held it there, and you instinctively tilted your face into it with a calming sigh, your eyes lulling to a close. Without words, his touch was enough to settle your nerves, if only while it was present.

❝You're not ready for this.❞ A healthy measure of understanding laced his words. His statement would've been phrased as a question just a few short months ago, but he knew you better than you knew yourself at this point; and you couldn't bring yourself to lie to him. You opened your eyes, and they lowered shamefully. God, at times you felt so childish to keep him waiting; even if you never once felt pressured by him, you never once felt like he would leave you if you didn't give in. He was unreal. It made you feel even worse for being so hesitant to cross that line.

John must've noticed this. His other hand quickly came up to cup the other cheek, and soon you were searching his dark depths as he reassured you. ❝You have nothing to be ashamed of. You know that I love you, right?❞

You must've looked like a love-struck kitten as the corners of your lips quirked up into a coy, barely-there smile; because it drew forth one of his rare grins in return, the faint crow's feet at the corners of his eyes deepening at the expression. He leaned in to press another little kiss to your forehead before he brought himself to stand at his full towering height once more, turning to leave you to your thoughts.

Suddenly, your mouth felt obscenely dry. You forced your tongue out, darting to wet your parched lips as you spoke with a cracked stutter. You couldn't have that. You couldn't just... make him keep tiptoeing around you like you were some antique porcelain doll to be handled delicately and only when necessary. You were his lover.

❝John, wait.❞ You reached out to grab at his wrist with urgency. He paused to look back at you over his shoulder. The weight of his gaze both thrilled and intimidated you to your core. His smile was gone, and his veil of stoicism had returned; but at least he didn't look at you with any cold rigidity.

You, too, stood. You rounded to stand in front of him, your fingertips hesitating in the space between, working gently as if you were trying to talk yourself into initiating the contact. Eventually, they found a home against his chest with a featherlight touch. You admired the sight of them there, thinking of how his muscles must feel underneath his shirt. ❝I-I may not be ready for… that… but maybe… maybe there's something else we could do…?❞

The tension returned to his face — something akin to concern. ❝We don't have to—❞

You were quick to cut him off, your tone adamant. It was all about fake it 'til you make it with your rare bouts of confidence, anyway. ❝I know. I know. Please, don't look at me like that. Sometimes I want you so bad that my heart feels like it's gonna pop. I don't know what to do, but… I know that I want you. Somehow. Some way. It doesn't help when you look at me like I'm so… fragile.❞

Vulnerability seeped from every pore of your being with the soul-bearing confession of your desire; albeit spoken in the kind of reserved vocabulary only a virgin could possess. Your arms slinked up to wrap around his neck, hot breaths mingling as you propped yourself up on your tiptoes to offer a tempting whisper against his lips: ❝Touch me, John. Please. Please.❞

John had always been a quiet man. You weren't sure how exactly you worked up the willpower to approach him in the first place; but every day since you were reminded of just how wonderful of a decision it really was. It seemed that this moment was no exception as he laid you down on the cool, silky sheets of his bed, his lips against yours with a fervor so passionate that you were sure he would leave behind a little beard-burn on your chin. And oh, Holy Mary, Mother of God— that night he tasted of a smooth whiskey, distilled through the sinuous labyrinth of your heart and barrel-aged within its bloody core.

You could feel a hand at your thigh once more, and he pushed your dress up to expose the plain white cotton of your panties. The air kissed you in intimate places that you'd only ever felt stepping out of a hot shower or changing out of your day clothes. A needy whine sounded against his lips at the sensation, pushing through the tense confines of your chest. That simple act was enough to make your hips rise up from the comfort of the mattress about an inch or so — just enough to help him along on his intent to bare your beautiful, perfect body.

But he stopped. He stopped, and the pressure of his touch became firm as he moved to press down against your belly with a guiding hand. Your hips returned to their resting position.

❝Settle down.❞ His voice was a firm yet soft-spoken command when he parted from your lips. Your brow visibly furrowed as you looked up at him in confusion. His tone carried disapproval but not disappointment, and a wash of guilt soured your flushed features anyway.

❝I'm sorry, John.❞ You gently mewled, as if needing to explain away the action. ❝I-I just... it happened. It's just the textures, the feeling of it all, I didn't — couldn't...❞

He curled his index finger underneath your chin. It drew forth one of your small, overwhelmed gasps; then you fell silent.

❝I'm not upset with you.❞ He spoke, and his words were like a lavender-scented salve to your unseasoned fears.

❝You're not?❞

❝I'm not. It's a natural reaction, and you're doing fine. I just need you to practice a little more patience. Can you do that for me, starlyetka? Can you practice more patience?❞

Your lower lip quivered, and you were visibly unsure of how to answer his request. But as you looked into his eyes — those endless pools of pure, molten intensity — you could tell just how necessary the depth of his request was. He may not be so inexperienced, but he wanted to savor this cherished moment with you. And so you offered him a slight, obedient nod.

John didn't immediately move to touch your body again. Instead, his thumb soothingly brushed over your lips.

❝Look at you,❞ he uttered with the utmost appreciation. ❝you're just a pretty little thing, aren't you?❞

❝John...❞

His lips found yours once more. And his hand — the hand with the heavenly touch that could be so lethal — caressed you with ultimate care as it cupped one of your breasts through your nightie, and you were already squirming. Your fists balled up into the sheets beneath you. It was borderline torturous not being able to guide his hand or touch yourself to speed him along, even as his fingers gently rolled the nipple there. It pebbled up nicely under his machinations.

He pulled away again, a glint of amusement playing at his features. This was the rarest emotion you'd pulled from him thus far; but you had to put a stop to it before he said anything. You scowled at him playfully, sticking out your tongue; ❝Not. A. Word.❞

His chuckle was deep and reverberating as he dipped to your neck, though he didn't kiss it yet...

❝Close your eyes.❞

❝Why do I need to—?❞

❝Do as I say. Keep them closed.❞

You pouted, making your disfavor for this apparent. What's the point of sharing such a sensual moment with John if you couldn't even watch the pleasure wash over him? Couldn't watch his lips part slightly to take in heavier, ragged breaths at the feeling of your heated skin beneath him?

After a fair amount of hesitation, you acquiesced. Under the shroud of darkness, the feeling of silk against your half-exposed body was amplified. It was calming. Grounding, even. As if being left to focus on the sense of touch and sound alone was meditation in practice. Slowly, but surely, you felt the rest of your inhibitions begin to melt away. He kissed your neck, and the motion was enough to draw soft moans from you. There was no intent to mark you, no intent other than to presumably settle your nerves even more; putting the depth of his love on full display.

You didn't realize it, but your pussy was already beginning to react to the tickle of his facial hair and the steadiness of his lips. Though he didn't allow you to put your neediness on full display for him, your hips lightly squirmed, and your thighs subconsciously parted ever-so-slightly at your arousal. You felt his touch play at the waistband of your panties. He was just so agonizingly close to caressing your most sensitive spot. So why wasn't he?

❝How are you feeling?❞ He asked, and the fire that coursed through your veins made it hard for you to think of an answer. You only whimpered in response, not wanting him to think you were being... impatient. Then, he tried again. ❝I need an answer, starlyetka. Use your words.❞

The feeling of self-consciousness returned tenfold at his insistence. Still, you didn't answer. Your expression twisted into something decidedly humiliated, but you didn't blame him. It was just difficult to express something you hadn't ever expressed before. ❝I-I feel... hot.❞

❝And what else?❞

❝I don't know...❞ His fingers lowered over the soft cotton swell of your mons pubis as you stammered through your feelings, the digits not daring to dip under the fabric. Your hips wriggled again, ❝... f-feel... good?❞

❝Just 'good'?❞

❝Yeah...❞ Your confirmation came forth as a breathy whisper.

You could feel John's hand curl into the front of your panties, causing them to tighten up and the seat of them to slip between your slickened labia. The fabric was pulled so tightly against your swollen clit that every antsy wiggle rubbed up against it, sending small shocks of pleasure through your body. As earlier, your body's reaction was instinctual. Your hips began to grind helplessly against that small sensation, chasing that blinding climax you knew would happen sooner or later.

You couldn't stop yourself from making a desperate plea. ❝Quit teasing me!❞

His touch left your body once more, leaving you unable to chase even that slight bit of pleasure he'd provided for you. ❝What did I tell you about patience?❞

Your eyelids fluttered open in the lull between physical touch and admonishment, and you pouted once more. ❝But you're not even doing anything...❞

John said nothing. The stern glint in his eye made you want to retreat back into yourself. Your eyes snapped closed once more, and he continued his leisurely exploration of your body and the sensations he could provide for you. His index finger found the horizontal patch of wetness in your panties. He traced the area up and down as if he had all the time in the world to play with you. As he applied gentle pressure, you understood just how asinine your complaint was. He was good at this — proving you wrong without even so much as a spoken word. You knew him enough to know his intent, and you were practically panting with need.

Not doing anything, huh?

With your lesson firmly learned, you gave into how his indulgent touch pampered you with no sounds but those of natural pleasure that tumbled unrestrained from your lips. A fingertip pressed against your clit, massaging it in gentle circles yet still refusing to bare your arousal. Your panties insulated the heat, rendering the reality of your situation so agonizingly apparent that you had no choice but to experience the full breadth of it. John was the master of your pleasure. Point blank. Though it was never verbally declared, you could feel it through the very essence of his presence, and you gave yourself over to him. You always would.

John was as much yours as you were his.

It was only after some time in heavenly limbo that his fingers did, eventually, dip under the fabric to tease your folds. His touch slipped through them so readily; your pussy so flush with arousal that he could only muse quietly about the sheer intensity of your need.

You, however, were a writhing mess compared to his collected calm. Fists balled up in the sheets, thighs instinctively moving to close shut against this unfamiliar exploration only to remain insistently held open by his free hand. You were so sensitive and so vulnerable under his effortless touches that he couldn't help but take it a step further. He dipped a single finger into your tight, greedy core, and your walls clenched so firmly around this new development that he wondered how he would even manage to fit when the two of you finally came together.

The only problem with your excitement was that it wasn't being tempered by his actions. No, it was fanning the flames of an even bigger, brighter need; being built to the crescendo you so desperately sought as he fucked you with those fingers of his. The ambience of the room was a mess of your own heady moans and slick resonations.

And suddenly, the building pleasure was no more.

You felt miserably empty as he withdrew those fingers from you, re-centered those panties back over your core and pressed a brief kiss against your lips. You appeared confused, eyes opened to watch as he brought a hand to cup your cheek. Your own emissions brushed over your skin when he swiped his thumb there.

Your voice was slightly hoarse when you spoke up, as if the intensity of your arousal had sapped away every last ounce of your willpower in an effort to get off. ❝John, please... don't stop. Did I do something wrong?❞

He was quick to nip your insecurity in the bud. He sighed deeply and searched your gaze with heavy-lidded eyes. ❝You were perfect.❞

❝But I don't understand. Why did you stop? Don't you want this? Want me?❞

John pulled back. ❝You're not ready.❞

His unembellished statement was a shot through the heart. Not ready? Not ready for what, to climax? It wasn't as if you hadn't done so before! Your throat tightened, and you sat up against the headboard. ❝But that's not fair! You can't... you can't just leave me wanting like this!❞

Even though you knew John didn't think of it the same way, you couldn't help but feel that this was some way of getting back at you for keeping him on the line. You drew your knees to your chest and rested your chin on top of them. Maybe it was the look on your face, but John gently cooed your name: ❝This is unfamiliar territory for you. I need you to trust me when I say that we both need to hold out a little longer.❞

You remained quiet, eyes downcast. He repeated your name, softer this time but more insistent, and your gaze was disheartened as you met his eye. Though you didn't agree with him, you trusted him more than you'd trusted any other man before. Your voice cracked when you finally replied. ❝Okay. But only 'cause it's you. Only 'cause it's us.❞

[inklore]

undo me

premise: the relationship between you and john is anything but soft, normal, domestic. it's deeper and more complicated than that. the pleasure and relief of desire that the two of you bring each other the only things clear cut.

pairing: john wick x (f)reader

word count: 904

warnings: eighteen+ content, handjob, dirty talk, references and illusions to oral and fingering, established fwbs, blood mention, reader is in the same 'business' as john.

note: i've never written for this beautiful man and it's honestly a crime because he's so underrated and i want to hold him!

The fire that’s burning in his eyes—lust fueled, hungry, a craving only you can stop that has that underlying anger within it—scalds your senses. Makes the hand that you have wrapped around his cock ache to move faster, to twist, and run your thumb along the leaking head so you can hear that deep groan he lets out against your forehead. The noises he tries to hide with the kisses to the top of your skull that are anything but affection. 

Affection he’d never admit to and you’d never claim anything of. 

The two of you were the same. Joined in loss and hatred, and the bloodshed that you’ve spilt and tainted your skin with was second nature. Something that felt like you were born into, for, the longer you stayed in the business. The longer enemies piled as high as the bodies you’d claimed along the way of some sort of redemption. A release. A freedom from something that had no end. 

It was only when you two were together like this—when John allowed himself to be like this with you—that those enemies, the bloodshed, and freedom didn’t matter. 

Weren’t pounding at the door, threatening to take your life before you could take theirs. 

You didn’t know if he was a giving lover. Not really. When you were done, he usually finished you off, always with his fingers. A handful of times with his mouth. There were no soft kisses or devotions whispered into the crook of your neck. Pulling him towards the bed and stripping like some domesticated couple was not in the cards. Wasn’t what this was about—why it had kept happening and why you always knew his knock by heart and grew wetter the closer you got to the door. 

To invite him another night to give each other the release you needed—that closeness to another person as your hearts would allow—and then he was gone and reality was back with a vengeance. 

Tonight is no different. 

The same knock. 

The same quick work of unbuckling his pants to slide your hand down them to pull out his cock and wrap your fist around it. 

Your knees had bent, a descent ready to be made to give him a better release from his tense shoulders with your mouth. But his grip on your hip had stopped you.

His forehead coming down on yours, hair growing slick with sweat the longer you jerked him off, the more his body sank into the pleasure. His breath heavy, “want your eyes on me tonight.” He had said, an overanalysis of the tenor in it, making you want to think it was begging. A desperate plea. 

But never from him. 

And you had done what he said. 

Kept your eyes on him.

Let your eyes move along his face; watch as he wets his lips with his tongue, as his eyes screw shut for half a second when you twist your wrist at the head of his cock the way he liked. The fist he had pressed into the door behind your head keeping himself stationary. His body weight half leaned into you, giving just enough room for him to move his hips.

To fuck up into your hand.

To set the pace he needed. 

There was a time and place for you to make conversation while doing this. To ask him if he had a rough day or crack a joke. But tonight, you know he doesn’t need it. He just needs this.

You.

Your hand. 

To get off. 

For you to help him. 

“John,” you murmur softly against his cheek. Bring his attention back to you, popping whatever fantasy he’s letting burn through his gaze, so he can only see you. “Tell me how good it feels; am I making you feel good?” 

“Yeah,” his voice has lost all of its normal sternness. All of the frightening edges that have men and women running. He sounds weak, breathless, and overcome. It makes you ache. “Couldn’t–” he curses under his breath. Brings the hand from your hip to your neck to rest and tighten with each downward stroke. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you tonight. I needed to see you. Needed to-”

“To come for me.” The noise he lets out at your words has your gut plummeting. Your thighs closing in around the leg he has positioned between them. You open your mouth to tell him to do it, to come for you, to let go. But his fingers are muffling your words. Stealing them from your tongue as he presses two fingers against it. 

“Get them wet.” He demands. Watches as you swirl your tongue around them and coat them in your spit, taking them out when he’s satisfied and moving them down to where your fingers are wrapped around him. Swiping the spit against his head for you to use as more friction—easier, wetter. 

You can tell he’s close by the hitch in his breath. The fast rock of his hips, the fingers digging into your neck. 

And the way he’s looking at you, the slow trail he makes between your eyes and your mouth, you half expect him to kiss you. To press his mouth to yours in a way he’s never done before. 

A slow seeping disappointment is swiped away by arousal when he says, “get on your knees. I want you to taste what you do to me.” 

[6lostgirl6]

yandere john wick with “I would never hurt you. You know that, right?” he just gives off such over protective/possessive energyyy 🤭

Your Protector

Pairing: Yandere!John Wick x Fem!Reader

TW: Yandere themes, toxic themes, mentioned stalking, kidnapping, possessive behavior, obsessive behavior, pet names, dubious kissing (at first), slightly suggestive. Reblogs are highly appreciated!!

It was infatuation and obsession that drove him to take such drastic measures. Ever since he saw you, he was absolutely convinced that you were meant for him. His second chance at happiness and love since the passing of his wife, Helen.

It was also fear, fear that if he didn't kidnap you, you would be somehow hurt or even killed. John has spent many nights without sleep, worried over your safety. He knew that if he didn't take action, something was bound to happen.

You never met him before, never spoke with him, and it was a shock when he finally kidnapped you. A complete stranger. The last thing you could remember was walking home from another late-night shift and being grabbed from behind. In a millisecond, your mouth was covered by a cloth and your vision went black.

When you finally came to, you realized you did not recognize your surroundings. You were resting in a lavish guest room and you were still trying to wrap your brain around what was happening. While you were gathering your bearings, a man appeared. He was standing over you by the side of the bed.

"Good morning, sweetheart." The man said with a smile, greeting you in an affectionate tone. "I hope you slept well."

At first glance, he was a very attractive man and of great wealth. His towering stature, long black hair and wearing a seemingly expensive black tailored suit.

“Who are you?” You asked in fright, staring at him with wide eyes.

“W-What’s going on?” You scooted back against the headboard, trying to maintain some distance between you and the man. “What do you want?” You continued to stare at him, fearful of what he might do. 

His gaze held a disturbing mixture of kindness and menace as he looked down at you. "Don't be afraid, I'm not going to hurt you." He paused for a moment, as if weighing his next words carefully. "I just want to make sure that we're together. Forever."

“Who are you?” You were confused, having not ever met this strange man before in your entire life. You thought that this man was clearly delusional, could be mistaking you for someone else. He wanted the two of you to be together, but you could not understand the reasoning behind it. You needed to figure out who he is and hopefully find means of escaping. 

"I'm John Wick," he says simply, leaning over you. He has this strange, almost otherworldly quality about him that's difficult to explain. A sense of danger, but not necessarily violence. He's calm and collected, but you also feel the threat of his presence. It's like looking into the eyes of a predator, one who's just been waiting for the right moment to strike. It's terrifying, yet compelling at the same time.

Noticing your fear, he slowly moved to sit on the edge of the bed, bringing himself a little more to your level of height. However, he still continued to tower over you. With slight hesitation, he reached out and placed his hand on your cheek, his thumb brushing gently against your cheekbone. It's a gesture of familiarity and affection, yet there's a sense of darkness and danger to it.

"Don't be afraid, sweetheart." He said with a small smile, his intense dark-brown eyes locking onto yours. It was almost hypnotic, the way he was looking at you. Almost as if he truly knew you and for quite some time too. It left you feeling conflicted, complicated emotions infiltrating your heart.

His touch that was so gentle against your cheek, prompted your cheeks to grow a little warm. His affection was breaking down your resolve and leaving you quite nervous. Not nervous as if you were fearing for your life for feeling anxious, but rather the form of butterflies forming in your stomach and your heart in your throat. 

The warmth creeping onto your face seems to embolden John, and he leans in closer to you, his hand still resting on your cheek as the other trails its way down your thigh. He stared at you, his dark eyes taking in every detail of your appearance.

"You're so beautiful.” He whispers, his warm breath fanning across your face. There's an intensity to him that's almost frightening. He appeared like a wild animal, one that could snap at any moment. It was undeniable that there was something primal about him, something you can't help but be attracted to.

You couldn’t reply, unable to form any coherent sentences from the intensity and electrifying touch of his hand on your thigh. Slowly, you were feeling less uncomfortable but rather shy from his affectionate touches. However, your walls were starting to return when you remembered that you didn't even know this man.

“John…why are you doing this? You don’t even know me.”

"Because you're mine." He replied, his gaze was intense and there was undeniable heat in his voice. It was more than enough to make you feel a little dizzy. Almost as if you were falling into some dark abyss. There's no question that this man is dangerous, but you can't help feeling drawn to him. He exudes a primal, dangerous energy that is almost addictive, and you find yourself craving more of his attention and touch.”And I do know you, I know everything about you, (Y/N).”

You glanced towards the door, noticing that it was left open. Your logical side was screaming for you to wake up and understand that you were involved with something, someone, extremely dangerous. In that second, you were broken out of your spell. 

You hesitate before launching yourself from the bed in an attempt to escape.

John's smile fades as you attempt to flee, his expression turning dark and deadly. Without even seeming to move, he blocks the door, his body looming over you like a shadow of death. 

"Don't." He says, his voice low and dangerous. “You'll only make this harder for yourself, sweetheart." His eyes are cold and calculating, but there's also a strange desire behind them. 

One that's both terrifying and alluring.

With wide eyes, you backed away, feeling small in comparison to his looming figure and his predatory stance. The size difference between you two was incredible. You continued to keep your distance, placing yourself between furniture. 

With slow and deliberate steps, he follows you around the room, seemingly getting closer with each passing moment. He had the patience of an animal on the verge of a hunt. You can feel his eyes on you, tracking your every move. When he speaks again, his voice is calm, but there's something dangerous hidden beneath the surface. He's like a calm sea hiding the storm underneath. 

"You can't get away from me, sweetheart." He begins to move closer again, this time grabbing your wrist and holding it tight, his grasp like iron. "You belong to me."

“Yeah, right!” You struggled, trying to rip your wrist away from his grasp, he could only stare at you in slight amusement and anger. “I don’t belong to you or anyone! Nothing you will ever do will make me think otherwise!”

He raises an eyebrow and smirks at you, before he replies. 

"Alright then." 

Without warning, he pulls you towards him, kissing you passionately. His body is firm and strong, holding you tightly in his arms. His kiss is passionate and intense, like he's pouring all of his feelings and desires into it. The kiss was passionate and borderline possessive, trying to make you submit and accept him as your lover and protector. His grip around your wrist and waist is tight, becoming a little painful. You’re completely at his mercy and helpless in his arms.

You gasp from the sudden kiss, feeling intense emotions swirling within you and making your heart skip a beat. After a small moment, you began to return the kiss, thoughts of escaping melting from your mind. He also seemed to relax more into the kiss, it turning softer and loving, feeling that you were slowly but surely returning his affections. He pulls away after a moment, staring at you with a hungry and passionate gaze. 

"Are you convinced?" He asks, his voice low and husky, his gaze very heated and full of immense desire. He's still holding you tightly in his arms, not letting you go anywhere. He simply couldn't get enough of you. It's adamant that this animal has a lot of pent-up desire and passion. Now, he was looking forward to releasing it all onto you.  

"Y-Yes..." You muttered, your brain currently in a state of mush. You simply looked up at him with wide eyes, your cheeks warm from the intensity of his affections.

Slowly, he released your wrist, bringing his hand up to caress your cheek, his thumb brushing just underneath your eye. His touch was gentle and even a little soothing. He looked into your eyes, his heated stare now full of softness towards you. “I would never hurt you. You know that, right?” His voice, similar to his touch, was also full of softness. 

“Y-Yes…” Your resolve was completely demolished, he has successfully twisted your feelings around and made your heart scream out for more of his attention. Thoughts of finding a way to escape barely crossed your mind, your logical side slipping further away from your grasp. 

You simply didn’t care. 

"Good." He whispers, his voice was husky once more, full of want and desire for you.

With another powerful pull, he brings you into another kiss, one that is even more passionate than the first one. Knowing that you finally submitted left him with an animalistic excitement. He's hungry for you, almost starving for your touch and affection, and you can barely keep up with his ravenous desires. His excitement continued to grow, his grip on you tightening as he held you in his arms.  

"You're mine now, my love."  He continues, his eyes glistening with desire. 

Spam Liking W/O Reblogging = Blocked

Taglist: Comment to be added!!

@prettywhenibleed

[imajinxnation]

HI HI HI!!

First of all I wanted to start off by saying that I absolutely love your work and I saw that your requests are open so I was wondering if I could make one??

Could I request a one shot with John Wick x reader where they’re in a relationship and are out at a bar or something and someone is just being really creepy and hitting on a clearly uncomfortable reader? Cue protective John to the rescue!!

Honestly you can take this wherever you want or do whatever you want with this!

Thank you so much, but if not no worries at all :)

Have an amazing day/ night!!!

J & J (Jardani & Jealousy)

John Wick x Reader

SUMMARY // You get hit on by someone in a Café, which makes Jardani(John) get jealous and protective.

TW // Fluff, Creepy Girl, Sexy Protective Jardani, Cussing, Suggestive...

I switched between the names Jardani and John because I'm in love with his real name.

Also, decided on a Café because more people go to Café's than Bars (at least where I'm from).

Lmk if there are any mistakes, my dumb brain wants to say 'I' everytime I type 'you'.

ALL GIFS FROM PINTEREST

When John wanted to go on a quiet Café date with you, this was not what he had planned. Everything was going so well, until he left to use the washroom and came back to see a girl practically sitting on you, she was so close. Just by the expression on your face, he could tell you were extremely uncomfortable with this girl; and she wasn't taking a hint.

Her face gets closer to yours, he sees her whisper something in your ear and he starts to feel a fire burn in his soul, his protectiveness taking over.

That's what he's seeing now, but let's back it up a bit to when he first left to use the washroom and take a look at what happened that he didn't see.

You're sitting quietly in your booth, looking out the window at the street and all the different cars passing by, a dreamy look in your eyes. Obviously, you were thinking about the love of your life, Jardani. You knew about his old life and what happened with Helen, but that didn't tip you off from dating on him because you know that he is more than his past. You also know that Helen will always have a piece of his heart, and you don't mind as long as you also have a piece of his heart, too.

"Excuse me," a voice says.

You're taken out of your daydream when you hear a woman's voice speaking next to you. A waitress at the Café stands there, smiling at you with a weird look in her eyes. You smile politely at the waitress and sit up straight.

"Yes?" You ask, smiling gently.

"These are your orders. If I may ask, where'd your father go?" The waitress asked after setting the drinks and breakfast on the table, a grin on her face.

You freeze for a minute. 'Did this bitch just call Jardani my father?' You think. 'I get that he's older than me, but anyone can tell by the way we act that we're romantically involved!'

You give her the most obvious fake smile you could muster before replying,

"He went to use the washroom. Also, he's my boyfriend, not my father."

The waitress gave a shocked look, not expecting those words to come out of your lips. Suddenly she looked at you with fake concerned eyes. You raise a brow at her expression, waiting for some bullshit to come out of her mouth.

"Oh sweetie, you can tell me. Is he making you date him, are you okay?" She puts her hand on your shoulder and strokes down your arm before sliding into the seat right next to you, her hip and thigh squishing yours.

"What? No, he's not making me date him, I really do love him," you say, trying to be as polite as possible, not wanting to cause a huge scene.

"Honey, you don't have to lie to me! Besides, you can do so much better. You need someone closer to your age," she plays with your hair.

You look around nervously, checking to see if John had finished in the washroom yet. When you still didn't see him, you mentally cursed him for leaving you to deal with this crazy woman who doesn't understand what 'no' means. You also prayed he'd be back soon so you could stop playing nice and get her to leave.

"I really don't, trust me, I've tried to date people my age, they're rude assholes," I say, trying to hint at her.

"You just haven't met the right one yet.." she whispers in your ear, her breath making you shudder in disgust and lose your appetite for breakfast.

"What's going on here?" John asks politely as he walks up to the table.

Once the woman is no longer looking at you and is looking at John instead, you mouthed the word 'help' behind her back, giving your lover a distressed look. You see a look of understanding in his eyes.

"Yes, well, you can do that without sitting on their lap, and besides, don't you have other customers to tend to?" His words quickly made her feel embarrassed, and she quickly left to do just that, but not before glancing back at you, winking at you and mouthing 'call me!'.

"Oh nothing, I was just telling your.. partner.. that they looked lovely today," the woman lied, giving him an uninterested look, giving him a quick once over.

You let out a breath that you didn't even know you were holding, your body relaxing as John moved back to his seat across from you.

"That was awful, thank you for that.. I see that look on your face, no matter how much you, or even I, wanna kill her, she is technically an innocent," you point out.

John raises an eyebrow at you, "That? I can tell you right now there was nothing innocent about that.. thing."

You roll your eyes and can't help but smile at his protectiveness, the fire in his eyes burning you to the core. Seeing him angry and possessive was always a sight, and it never failed to make you squirm in your seat.

"You know.. she really tipped me off my breakfast, maybe we could just.. Oh, I don't know.. Go home, take a hot shower.." You say, not trying to be subtle at all with your intentions.

"Yeah, I think that's a great idea," he gives a small smirk, the fire in his eyes that was burning with anger, now burning with desire.

"Well, let's not wait.. Jardani," you tease him, riding your foot up his leg, getting him excited.

Jardani shivers, from both your touch on his leg and you saying his real name. You calling him by his birth name always does things to him, and it will get you anything you want.