tcrturedreeves

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quick pop in

just popping in to say hi im alive I just uninstalled tumblr off my phone :))

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Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter One

Summary : After you treat him in the ER, Officer Tom Ludlow asks you out. You turn him down, thinking you know his type, but he’s not willing to take no for an answer. In fact, you find out he’s more than willing to abuse his authority in his pursuit of you. Maybe Ludlow seems like an asshole, but when you are drawn into a dangerous conspiracy that could go all the way to the top of the LAPD, he might be the only thing that stands between you and a shallow grave.

TW : Abuse of authority, alpha male, sexual harassment, the word “no” is not in this man’s vocabulary

The ER is overflowing tonight. There was a huge drug bust down on South Hampton Avenue that ended in a fire and gunfight: turned out to be a big enough debacle that they had to call a code black throughout the hospital, which basically means, at least for you, no breaks or time between patients. In times like this, charting even takes a back burner thanks to a hospital policy where everything you learned in nursing school flies out the window and you don’t have to document what you’re doing. 

It’s a good thing, because you don’t have time to log onto a computer let alone write something down with pen and paper. Burn victims, gunshots, every bed full, people boarding in the waiting room and hallways with broken limbs and makeshift pressure dressings on bullet holes and stab wounds.

The once chemical, pristine floor and walls now look like something from a SAW movie, and you’re not much better off. Bloody, dirt caked scrubs, exhausted, sweat stains. You’ve probably done more chest compressing tonight than you have in your entire career leading up. And you’ve seen more people die tonight… well, more than you’d like.

You wipe some tears off your cheeks, pretending it’s sweat, before walking into the lobby to catch the stragglers. “Thomas?”

“Call me Tom.” He’s a cop, still in uniform, sitting on the floor with a big puff of gauze pressed into his shoulder. You kneel down beside him. 

“I’m y/n, can I take a look?”

“Sure.” He winces, pulls the bloody dressing away to reveal a big, messy gash slicing into his left shoulder. It will need stitches, that’s for sure, but other than that it looks like a fairly clean cut. 

“Knife?” You ask him, pulling back on his shirt. 

“Some fucking idiot crackhead with a sword, actually,” he grits. 

You laugh a little bit. “I’m having a hard time believing that.”

“So am I.” He tries to grin at you, but it comes out more like a snarl because of the way you’re poking and prodding at him. 

Maybe it's just because you're exhausted, you've had a terrible night, and you hurt all over, but you can't help but notice how handsome this man is, even after his own ordeals on the mean streets of the City of Angels. He watches you with sharp dark eyes that miss nothing. You almost feel sorry for the criminals who find themselves on the receiving end of that stare. As it is, you almost feel a little unnerved yourself, until you notice a sparkle of humor for you in those dark orbs. However, you still get the feeling like he's studying you while you are tending his wound.

“I gotta stitch this,” you tell him, a little shy under his gaze, now. 

“Are you good at that?” 

You’re kind of in your own little world when he asks that, looking at his arms. Solid and big. Nice veins. It takes you a minute to register that he even said something. Yeah, you chastise yourself, why don’t you just start fucking drooling while you’re at it? 

“Good at what?” 

His grin tips higher. “Stitches…” 

“No, but I'm going to stab you repeatedly with a needle anyway…”

He chuffs with laughter. “You just seem a little distracted.” The way he smirks at you, you just know you're caught out. Get it together, you scold yourself. Maybe act like a professional instead of oogling the nice police officer.

“Sorry. It's just been a really long night. I promise, you're in good hands.”

“Looking forward to it,” he answers, with a beam of direct eye contact that nearly brings you to your knees. 

This is where you catch your lucky break, because this is where you start to get annoyed. Mostly, at yourself, but partly at him too. He clearly knows how attractive he is. He's just that kind of asshole. And it's been fucking forever since you've gotten laid, because the world is just so full of assholes… It's not fair, the way he uses this advantage to tease you, when you feel like an extra in a Rob Zombie film. You do your best to appear unaffected as you walk away to retrieve supplies. You also pretend not to notice him staring at your ass, which, okay, you have to admit, it’s a little bit of a confidence boost. 

It’s almost stupid to put towels under his arm as you spray him off with sterile water - this floor could actually use it. You get the edges pink and shiny, uncake the blood and the viscera. Grateful for the distraction - distraction from the big, brown eyed cop who won’t stop looking at you. 

He has that type of stare that has weight to it. You feel it, on your skin– and you hate to admit it– in the aching throb between your legs, which is the last thing you need to be distracted by right now. Ah, the stupid lady parts, always making their vote known at the worst possible time. 

Even though you let the anesthetic sit for a while, modern medicine can’t account for all the pain. He’s wincing and grunting while you tug his open flesh back together, and those gruff sounds are not helping this whole being attracted to him situation. You feel like your skin is on fire from his overwhelming stare, from the noises coming out of that long throat. Christ, he’s not even touching you…

“You alright there sweetheart? I'm the one under the needle.”

You look at him, some of that anger escaping in your tone. “Please don’t call me sweetheart.” 

“Sorry. Been a long night for me too.” He lifts one of those sculpted dark brows at you, and you feel it as your heart tries most earnestly to tap dance right out of your fucking chest. 

You sigh, narrowing your eyes so that he knows he's not in the clear. Unfortunately, he just seems to find that adorable, those dark eyes sparkling like black diamonds. 

“Just…let me finish you off so you can get out of here.”

“Didn't know you performed that service here,” he quips with a smirk, and you're almost relieved he drives this final nail into his coffin, even if the suggestion makes a spear of desire shoot through you. 

“I'm starting to side with the crackhead now.”

“Ooo, ouch,” he snarks, unaffected. “Take your time, this is the most fun I've had in a while.”

You decide not to answer, concentrating on your work. This man has a quick comeback for everything, you have a feeling. Worse, you kind of doubt a girl like you has a chance in hell of outmaneuvering him.

As you're bandaging him up, he senses your time together is coming to a close. His demeanor changes a little– if you didn't know any better,  you'd think he was sad about it. “Thanks for stitching me up,” he says, surprisingly humble. He rolls those big dark eyes up to yours, and you feel your resolve to be a stone cold professional crumble–a little.

“You're welcome.” It's possible your touch on his shoulder lingers just slightly longer than it should. 

“Hey…” He clearly feels bold enough to catch your hand in his. And holy shit, that hand. Your little mitt disappears in his, wrapped up in long, blunt fingers. The things you bet that hand could do to you…

It's definitely not a helpful thought.

“Any chance I could give you a call sometime?”

Your initial, knee-jerk reaction to this question, from this fine-ass man, is Yes, please and thank you. You're sure he sees it in your eyes, the way you're practically ready to sit up and bark for him.

But then, past experiences raise their hands to the situation, and how grateful you are. 

You know this guy's type, you convince yourself. Handsome, and macho, and they think they're so cute they can say anything and you'll just keep eating out of the palm of their hand, grateful to be their girl. You've starred in this show before– and it always ends in tragedy, with your heart in shreds, and them shrugging you off before moving on. 

Not tonight. 

“Sorry, but…I think it's best we keep this professional.”

Why does it hurt to say it?

You expect him to sulk, maybe even get mean, the way so many manly men do when a woman bruises their fragile egos. However, it seems this man is different. He just smirks, and you realize with a skip of your heartbeat, that he is not deterred at all.

“If you say so, sweetheart.”

With your heart in your throat, you have a feeling this is not the last you see of detective Tom Ludlow.

[tcrturedreeves]

Tag game: last saved character is your spouse

Are we surprised it was kevin?

Tagged by @scarlettspectra

Tagging: anyone who wants to join

🖤 tag game: your last saved character is your spouse 🖤 tagged by @blackcoffeeblackeyes @gea-chan96 @johnwickb1tsch @pointbreakvhs

Tagging @tcrturedreeves @thatgingernerdgirl @discoscoob @fernpetals @97keanu @ghostoffuturespast @baublekute @ghcstpyre @keanusyellowbass @casuallyobssessed @lilithlounge

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I have observed newer fans of keanu may have missed some of the fun older footage. You are welcome.

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Woah.

One last chance

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need this

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last kiss - taylor swift

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ana de armas icons.

like or reblog if you save!

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Keanu Reeves

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A Most Heinous 80's Movie Night — Ted "Theodore" Logan x GN!Reader ❥ 1.6k Words

"Hi-can I get a fic of Ted "Theodore" Logan and reader, a nonbinary person/femme leaning/plus sized nerdy type with glasses [tee hee], having a Blockbuster and chill after a random trip to the mall/Toys R Us or Kay-Bee Toys hunting for action figures/or maybe even at Guitar Center/Tower Records/Sam Goody Music, like a meet cute?"

A/N: Hi! This request turned into a partial entry for @97keanu 's Summerween event, too. I hope that's okay! I made Reader as physically ambiguous as possible (+ glasses), I just wasn't sure how to incorporate being plus sized (because I am fat and I just imagine every reader as plus sized anyway lol). Thanks to @opheliainlove42 for proofreading!

Fic and Mood Board requests are OPEN!

Warnings (?): Fluff, Hangouts, Scary Movie, Kissing, candy, popcorn, reader wears glasses :3

Archive of Our Own Link

It was Ted's idea to watch a scary movie after your regularly scheduled hangout, but it turns out he's not as brave as he thought.

“Okay, okay. If you had to pick between Van Halen and Mötley Crüe, who would you pick?” 

“Mötley Crüe, duh,” You take a sip of your slurpee and continue flipping through the bin of records in front of you.

“No way!” Ted says excitedly, “Van Halen is a million times better. Bill and I are gonna get Eddie in our band, y'know.”

“Yeah?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Totally. As soon as we get some more practice in and record a most triumphant music video, he won't be able to say no,” Ted nods, reaching for your slurpee. You graciously allow him to steal some, even though you told him not to suck his down so fast.

This was how every Saturday went for you and Ted. You'd start your day at Circle K scoring slurpees, and then waste time in your local record store until one of you gets bored. 

The next stop was usually the mall. You and Ted were always on the hunt for very particular comic books and their matching action figures. Hours upon hours were spent hunched over, going through dusty comic book stacks, looking for anything that seemed interesting. 

But today, Ted had something different in mind.

“So, like... what now?” you ask, tipping your cup back for the last of the slush, narrowly avoiding getting drops of syrup on your glasses.

“I dunno, dude,” Ted thinks hard for a moment, “You ever get that craving for righteous cinematic fear?”

“What, like a scary movie?” 

Ted nods solemnly, “Yes. A most heinous need for spine-chilling terror. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?”

“Blockbuster?” 

Ted's eyes light up, “Blockbuster!” 

He grabs your arm with sudden, dramatic urgency, “We gotta go. Before all the excellent horror flicks are gone and we’re left with like Casper or some bogus ghost movie where nobody even dies.”

You can’t help but laugh, “Alright, alright. But I get to pick the snacks this time.

“Only if I get to choose the movie,” He bargains.

“Deal.”

You shake on it, fighting the way your chest feels and the way holding his hand makes your cheeks burn. 

-

The bell jingles as you both step inside the cool, fluorescent haven of Blockbuster. Ted immediately makes a beeline for the Horror section, muttering to himself about each title he comes across, none of them being good enough. 

You trail behind him, picking up a copy of Hellraiser and holding it up, “This one’s cool.”

“Oh, sick. I heard that one even has…” Ted hesitates, spotting a copy of Evil Dead II behind the shelf and lets out a gasp, “No, no, wait. This! This is the one. There’s like blood geysers and a demon lady in the basement.”

You glance at the cover, “You sure about this, Ted? Last gory movie we watched you totally barfed.”

“I'll be fine,” He assures you with a confident nod. 

You grab the tape from him and stop by the candy section to pick out a few of the most excellent snacks. You decide on some microwave popcorn, a bag of Skittles, two packs of M&Ms, and some Sprees. You throw all the snacks into Ted's arms with zero regard for structural integrity. 

“Dude. If we survive this movie, we’re totally watching Gremlins next.”

You roll your eyes, “That’s not even scary.”

“Exactly,” he grins, walking backward toward the counter, “That way you won’t barf when I barf.”

You elbow him on the way to check out, and the two of you leave the store loaded up with plenty of sugar and an excitement building in your gut. 

The walk back to your house is full of a heated debate over who would survive longer in a zombie apocalypse. Ted insists he’d charm the undead with air guitar solos. You're not so sure they'd fall for that, and you tell him as much.

By the time you approach your driveway, the sky is starting to darken with the sun dipping behind the trees behind your house. 

-

You fumble with your keys before unlocking the front door. You let Ted in first, and he practically skips into the living room like he owns the place. He's been over a hundred times by now, and he always dumps his stuff in the same corner, flops down onto your couch, and makes himself at home like it's his.

This time he dumps the handful of snacks into the coffee table, being careful not to drop the VHS tape. 

You take off your shoes by the door and head for the hall closet, calling out to Ted, “Start the tape and toss the popcorn in the microwave?”

“On it!” Ted calls back as he dramatically pulls Evil Dead II out of the Blockbuster case like it’s the Necronomicon itself.

You return with a couple of mismatched blankets, setting them down on the back of the couch before plopping down in your spot in the middle. Ted’s already fiddling around with the remote, and you can hear the microwave humming in the kitchen. 

When the timer goes off, Ted tosses the remote over to you with a huff and retreats to the kitchen to retrieve the popcorn. He comes back with two bowls, one for popcorn and one for candy. You make quick work of emptying all the sweets from their respective containers and mixing them up. 

Ted made the recipe up, calling it some kind of candy roulette. Mixing Skittles and M&Ms was weird the first time he proposed it, but it grew on you. Most of his quirks have, honestly.

He hands the bowl of candy to you and sits down with the grace of a flopping fish, knocking into you and all but sitting in your lap.

“Scoot over! You're gonna block the TV,” You nudge him with your elbow.  

Ted scoots, but only barely. Your thighs bump his when you sit shoulder to shoulder, but neither of you seems to mind. It’s easy, like second nature. He glances down at how close you are, then at the two blankets draped on the back of the couch.

“Y’know,” he says, voice all mockingly serious, “I read somewhere that sharing a blanket during horror movies increases your survival rate by like fifty percent.”

You snort, “Did you read that on the back of a cereal box?”

Ted ignores that. He grabs one of the blankets anyway, giving it a dramatic little shake, and throws it over both of you.

You roll your eyes, but you don’t push him away. Honestly, it’s kind of nice. His body is warm and familiar, his shoulder nudging into yours. 

“There,” he declares. “Now we’re safe from demons, zombies, and maybe even ghosts.” 

You don't stifle the giggle he pulls from you. Instead you press play on the remote, ignoring the way your cheeks are warm and your heart’s doing that little flutter it always seems to do around him lately. Ted scoots just a little bit closer, tossing a handful of candy into his mouth as the movie’s opening ads start. 

-

The movie wastes no time setting up jumpscared, and Ted is starting to regret all his life choices. He’s still next to you, but now the blanket is pulled halfway up over his face like a makeshift shield. Only his eyes and wild mop of hair are peeking out, popcorn bowl already forgotten on the side table, and candy bowl on the coffee table.

You glance at him, grinning, “You okay over there, dude?”

“I’m good. Totally cool. Just, keeping myself safe from whatever might pop out of the TV.” 

At least he's honest. 

Another jumpscare appears on screen, and Ted lets out another tiny yelp. Without thinking, he grabs your arm and yanks the blanket higher, huddling close.

“Dude,” you laugh again, “you picked this movie.”

“Past Ted had too much confidence. That guy was reckless, a most heinous decision maker.”

You’re still smiling when you feel his hand, still gripping your arm, warm and trembling just a little. His head is close now, his breath ghosting across your shoulder as the blanket forms a little cocoon around you both.

The movie blares on in the background, but Ted’s voice cuts through it, low and uncharacteristically hesitant. 

“Hey… so, uh…”

You glance at him, “What’s up?”

“Okay, hear me out… what if we kissed?”

“Uh.”

“For protection,” he says quickly, as if it’s the most logical thing in the world. 

“Since when does kissing protect anybody when it comes to horror?”

He shrugs, wide-eyed and hopeful. You raise an eyebrow at him. He’s still holding onto you, and the TV is casting a glow on his flushed face, highlighting that crooked grin.

“Okay,” you say, quieter than you mean to, “For protection.”

And then his lips are on yours, warm and a little unsure at first, like he’s been waiting for the right excuse to do this. You kiss him again, deeper this time, and he leans in with a clumsy sort of eagerness that makes your stomach flip. Your glasses fog slightly from the heat between you, and when you pull back for air, Ted blinks at you like he can’t believe it just happened.

“I think that worked,” he whispers, “I feel significantly less cursed.”

You giggle, breathless, “Yeah?”

“We should probably do it again. You know, just to be safe.”

You nod and he pulls you back in. 

[tcrturedreeves]

John Wick x Sweet Librarian Reader • Mood Board

"A moodboard request for John Wick and a sweet librarian reader, please. I think it would be adorable. Thanks!"

Fanfic and Mood Board requests are OPEN!

[tcrturedreeves]

Study Fuck Buddy

Pairing: College!Kevin Lomax x Reader

----- ---- --- -- - masterlist - -- --- ---- -----

Warnings: MDNI, NSFW (blow job, p in v), Southern accents, language, Kevin being a slick mf

Requested by Anon! I hope you like it <3

Thanks to @casuallyobssessed for proofreading <3

Requests are OPEN <3

You check the clock on the wall again for the fifth time in the last ten minutes. He’s late. Whatever, it’s his money that he’s wasting. You get paid for this whether he shows up or not. You lean against the wall of the library, backpack slung over your shoulders as you scan the crowd. If he doesn’t show up in the next five minutes, you’re leaving and charging him for the study session plus a late fee for making you be here when you'd rather be in your dorm. You shift, pulling out your planner from your bag to check what assignments you have due next to make sure that this isn't going to bite you in the ass. English comp paper and a Psychology presentation… Nothing you should have any problems with completing, even with this wasted fifteen minutes of your allotted study time. You hear shoes smacking against concrete, and then Kevin Lomax jogs up to you just as you put your planner away. 

“Hey, sugar-” He greets in his rich Southern twang, breathless from the sprint from his frat house to the library. You had asked him multiple times to not call you those pet names, but he always ignored you, saying that he wouldn’t be a ”proper gentleman” if he didn’t use those terms of affection on a girl like you. You stopped correcting him after it became more of a hassle than it was worth. Leaning over, he braces his hands on his knees and holds up a finger for you to give him a moment to get his wind back. When he stands straight again, he’s smiling that devil-may-care grin that always makes something hot flutter in your stomach. “M’sorry for bein’ late, had to run initiation for the new brothers.”

“It’s fine.” You shrug, honestly not giving a shit about why he’s late. He’s here now, so you’ll help him study for his biology exam and then go back to your dorm to do your own coursework. “You bring your textbooks this time?”

“Yeah, got’em riiiight-” Kevin trails off, digging through his bag in search of the books amidst the chaos. You politely ignore the open box of condoms, protein bar wrappers, and energy drink bottles that you see peek out from the depths. Your backpack wasn’t much cleaner, minus the box of condoms. Finally, he pulls out the textbook with a little triumphant huff, holding it up like a child showing off a frog they just caught. “Here they are! See? I told ya I wouldn’t forget ‘em again!”

You turn on your heel without a word and go into the impressive steel and glass building that is the library, Kevin trailing behind you like a lost puppy. He’s never been to the library, or even really bothered to study anything that wasn’t his law classes before, but he’s close to failing biology and got desperate. On the other hand, you excelled in all your studies, even taking on a second major and a minor. The only problem was that you were the classic broke college student. So, in a bid to eat something that wasn’t ramen, you listed your services as a tutor in the school newspaper. 

Your popularity skyrocketed overnight, making you one of the most sought after tutors on campus. You never failed to get results, turning D grade students into B average or better within a few months. That reputation is the exact reason why Kevin had been willing to pay extra just to get some additional time with you outside of your normal operating hours. That, and he thinks you’re sexy as fuck.

When you get into the main study hall of the library, you let out a groan. You’d forgotten that there’s a big mock stockholders meeting happening for the business school students, so the library is full to capacity. You don’t want to deal with the stuck up pricks who think they’re better than everyone else just because they have a business degree.

“C’mon, gotta go to the private rooms.” You mutter, tugging on Kevin’s backpack strap to get him to follow you up the stairs. You didn’t like the private study rooms, but they’d do in a pinch when you had no other options. The pair of you get to the top of the stairs and the noise from below decreases drastically. It’s more isolated up here, the space reserved for those who wish to study in relative silence and solitude. You swipe your university ID card at the door of one of the rooms and the lock turns green, letting you inside.

“After you, sweetheart.” Kevin opens the door with a bow and a swish, gesturing for you to enter first. You roll your eyes as you go in and set your bag down with a thump, before pulling out your own textbooks. Behind you, Kevin closes the door and then lets out a bark of laughter when he looks at the set up. One chair, one desk, and a whiteboard. “Well, ain’t this just cozy.”

“Don’t be a child, Kev.” You mutter. Before you can sit down, Kevin bolts around you and sits his ass down in the lone chair. He looks up at you with a smug grin and pats his thighs invitingly.

“Your seat, ma’am.” He purrs, tilting his head and looking almost innocent if it weren’t for the way his eyes lingered on your hips. “Nice an’ comfy for ya.”

“I’m not sitting on your lap.” You say, crossing your arms over your chest. No way in hell. You didn’t even wanna think about when the last time was that those shorts had been washed. Kevin clicks his tongue and smirks, getting into lawyer mode as he shifts back in the seat.

“Sweetheart, there’s only one chair in this room and I know it ain’t gonna be comfy for ya to stand the whole time we’re in here.” He croons, looking up at you with those deep brown eyes. “Just take a lil’ seat on my lap, honey. I promise I’ll behave.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, taking a few calming breaths to temper your irritation before you nod. When you lower yourself, you try to sit as close to his knees as possible, not wanting to have any more of him pressing into you than necessary. Kevin smirks in amusement as he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you close. Now your back is against his chest and your ass is firmly against his crotch.

“Startin’ on Section One, right, darlin’?” He murmurs, voice low in your ear as his chin rests on your shoulder. You fight down the blush in your cheeks and get to reading, opening the book with more force than needed. This was going to be hell.

And you were right.

Kevin wasn't paying attention to a single word out of your mouth, all his focus on the way your plush ass was shifting on his hard cock through his shorts. You would ask him a question and he'd give you some half-assed answer that wasn't even close to being correct. Multiple times, you tried to get off his lap, only for him to grip your hips and bring you back down with a tsk of disapproval. And if he made you grind on him a little each time, it wasn't your fault.

“M’sorry, darlin’.” Kevin says, thumbs rubbing circles just under your shirt as he answers another question incorrectly. “Just can't focus with somethin’ as pretty as you on me like this. All my blood’s goin’ south…”

“It's your grade that's gonna suffer, Kev, not mine.” You retort, certain now that this was a waste of your time. With a huff, you start to stand again, only for Kevin to pull you back down 

“Where ya runnin’ off to, sugar?” He purrs against your neck. “We ain't done yet.”

“Yes, we are!” You reply firmly. You've reached your limit with him and the best thing you can do now is end this before you slap him or think too much about the bulge poking your ass. “You can't think with anything but your dick and I'm not gonna waste any more of my time!”

“C'mon, baby, have a some pity.” Kevin pouts, brushing his lips behind your ear. “Maybe if ya helped me out, I'd be able to think a lil’ clearer.”

You freeze as your mind catches up with what he just proposed, your lips parted in a prepared response that seems to crawl back down your throat. A part of you recoils at the idea. After all, you're not the kind of girl to just hook up with a guy because his cock is hard. But on the other hand… Kevin's always been sweet on you and kind to you. You do feel a little sympathy for him, knowing how hard it can be to study when all you want to do is fuck. Besides, if it'll help him study… The devil on your shoulder wins as you relax back into the solid muscles of his chest.

“What do you need?” You ask, trying to keep the roughness out of your tone. You feel Kevin smile against your neck as he presses a kiss to the hinge of your jaw.

“Don’t need much. Just want that pretty mouth around my dick.” He rasps, fingers digging into your hips as he massages you through your clothes. “Think you can do that f’me?”

Instead of answering, you get on your knees between his spread legs. You try to hide the tremble in your fingers as you pull his shorts and boxers down, but Kevin notices anyway. His hands join yours as he lifts his hips to get the material down his thighs. You gasp as his cock is freed and juts out from a nest of dark curls at the base. His dick is as pretty as the rest of him, long, slightly curved, and thick enough that you know your jaw is going to hurt after this. Your pussy gives a traitorous throb in your panties as you briefly wonder what it would feel like filling you up-

“Darlin’...” Kevin coos to break you from your revery, looking very self-satisfied as you admire his cock. “Not to rush ya, but I am payin’ ya by the hour.”

“Shut up.” You snap, although the usual heat in your voice is gone. Reaching out, you wrap your soft palm around him and silently marvel at how smooth his flesh is. Kevin’s head falls back as a groan rips through his chest and a bead of pre-come leaks from his slit. He's fantasized about your hand on him, but it never came close to this. Unable to resist, you lean forward and suck the tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue over the head like it's your favorite flavor of lollipop. A soft moan escapes your throat as the slightly salty and bitter taste of him, the vibrations travelling up his length and knocking the wind out to him.

“Shit, sugar-” Kevin moans, struggling to keep his hips under control against the urge to buck and bury his cock down your throat. “Fuck, knew this mouth would feel like heaven.”

He reaches down and holds your hair in a loose ponytail to keep it out of your way as you work more of him past your lips. You look up at him and feel his cock twitch on your tongue, the image of you with his cock in your mouth almost too much for him to handle. His grip stays in your hair, but he's letting you control the pace and how deep you go with each bob of your head. He wants to force you down, watch the tears run down your cheeks as you choke on his come, but he knows that if he ever wants to feel this again that he has to let you be in charge right now.

You start working your way down, relaxing your throat when his tip starts to make you gag. The room is filled with the sound of your wet slurps and his moans. Every time you take more, earning a grunted curse and praise from Kevin's mouth. Taking a deep inhale as you flick your tongue under his glans, you loosen the muscles in your jaw as you take him to the base. Your nose is buried in his pelvis as Kevin’s back arches in the chair.

“Fuck yes!” He hisses in pleasure. His hand in your hair is pulling tight, the sting in your scalp and the lack of air around his cock making you almost dizzy. His free hand comes down, tracing the outline of your lips where they're stretched around his girth before he starts to thrust in and out of your mouth. The sound slurps from earlier transform into gags and the lewd smack of wet skin on skin.

“Such a good girl, takin’ me down your throat.” Kevin praises you, his accent even thicker now as he gets closer to his climax. “So fuckin’ good. Been thinkin‘bout this for so long, sweetheart, ah shit! Yeah, that's it, make me fill your throat with my come-”

The rest of his words are lost as his orgasm crashes over him, the coil in his stomach snapping. He holds your head in place with his cock down your throat as he comes, hot, thick spurts shooting down your esophagus. Kevin pulls back a bit, just enough to watch as the last few globs of his salty release paint your tongue white.

“So goddamn pretty.” He smirks, eyes hazy as the pleasure continues to shiver through him. You look utterly debached, lips pink and swollen from his cock, face flushed with arousal, and hair tousled from his fingers. “Swallow, baby.”

You follow his order without hesitation, swallowing the last bit of his come with a gasp. With a low growl, he pulls you up by your jaw and kisses you roughly, his tongue meeting yours and savoring the combined sweetness of your mouth with his own flavor. Kevin swallows the mewl that escapes your throat before breaking the kiss breathlessly. He spins you around and yanks your own pants and panties down your legs before guiding you to sink onto his half-hard cock. The stretch from him is intense for your unprepared walls, making you whimper from the burn. Kevin’s hand snakes around to the front of you and rubs your clit to help get you the rest of the way onto him.

“God, sugar, sorry-” He groans, his overstimulated cock starting to throb back to life inside you. “Forgot I'm bigger than what your sweet lil’ pussy can handle.”

“Oh my god, Kevin!” You moan as you adjust to the sensation of fullness he gives you. On instinct, you try to lift up, craving friction and his cock drilling into your sweet spot, only for his hands on your waist to stop you.

“Nuh-uh, darlin’.” Kevin grins, still panting as he holds both you and himself back from what you need. His fingers slide down to dig into your thighs, his lips and teeth already starting to mark your neck with hickeys. “Why don't ya start readin’ Section Two to me?”

A/N: I need this for while I'm doing research pls it'll help me i swear

Tags: @casuallyobssessed @scarlettspectra @discoscoob @johnwickb1tsch @devilsadvocatevhs @97keanus @lilithlinen @blackcoffeeblackeyes @sweetwolfcupcake @pointbreakvhs @arabellascented @barnabae-brooks-jr @treedaddymcpuffpuff @jaebyrd96

[tcrturedreeves]

Thinking about a throuple with Mary Ann and Kevin Lomax rn.

[tcrturedreeves]

A Simple Favor — John Constantine x GN!Fae!Reader ❥ 1.5k Words

"Oh Cavey my Cavey… i humbly request some fae!reader x Constantine 🤲🧚🏻 If you would be so gracious?"

A/N: Thank you so much for your request @impossibly-moths 🫶🏻 Sorry it took me so long to get this one done for you. Thank you to @opheliainlove42 for proofreading and giving me a title! 🥰

Fic and mood board requests are OPEN!

Warnings: Fae Reader, gender neutral, no use of y/n

Archive of Our Own Link

John Constantine has a problem and you're the only one who can fix it.

You are a problem solver with a solid head on your shoulders. It's why the other fae respect you. You know how to fix things when they go sideways, but you also have a knack for preventing problems to begin with. That is a very valuable skill. Such a skill has drawn the attention of angels, demons, and humans alike. 

Usually, they compensate you handsomely for your time, expertise, and ability to get things done. Whether it's money, trades for services, or particular… special favors, you always get the best end of the deal. 

And then, you met John Constantine. 

John Constantine, professionally known as just Constantine. From the moment he waltzed into your garden smelling like cigarettes and a heavy dousing of Hell, you figured he would be trouble. 

But you were wrong.

Constantine was kind enough to stub out his cigarette and toss the butt onto the sidewalk before stepping into your quiet sanctuary. You appreciated that forethought. Humans are into all kinds of nasty business, and those death sticks were something you despised. The nicotine and tar would ravage your beautiful plants, stunting their growth and damaging their leaves. 

-

Your garden is located in an alleyway, squished between two buildings: a bowling alley and a nondescript, half-destroyed, foreclosed set of apartments. The fence around the perimeter is covered in English ivy. As powerful as it is, the ivy does not grow where it isn't wanted. Long ago, you told it where it belonged and it listened. 

Inside the walls, you've created a small hedge maze surrounded by shrubs, trees, and flowers. There are beautifully ornate bird houses and baths scattered around. 

In the middle of the maze rests your home. Your neighbors, a handful of other fae, are spread throughout the maze. But this garden, this is your creation. Your masterpiece. You claimed the center just so you could stand on the balcony of your cottage and watch the sun rise over your paradise every day.

You were drinking your morning tea when you spotted him at the entrance to your garden, disheveled with a scowl on his face. Eager to find out why this human was welcoming himself into your space, you left your cottage behind and fluttered over to where he stood on the dirt path. 

His first words to you were, “You're smaller than I thought you'd be.” You eyed him with a huff and sat down on a branch hanging over and occupying the pathway. You were face to face with him and it felt like an eternity before he spoke again.

He gruffly introduced himself as ‘something like a demon hunter’ and wasted no time in getting straight to the point. Constantine needed your help with a bad case of pissed off brownies. You had to stop yourself from laughing at him.  

He had gone to Papa Midnite who couldn't (or wouldn't) offer any assistance, but slipped him a card with your name and address on it. You were his last hope, and you could tell by the grimace he was sporting that Constantine was not a man who asked for help often. 

“Okay, I'll help you,” You nodded, before looking him up and down, “But you'll owe me a favor.”

“Sure, sure, anything,” He said desperately. 

“Anything, huh?” You raised your eyebrow at him, “I'll remember that.”

-

After preparing yourself, you followed Constantine back to his apartment, which was surprisingly located above the bowling alley right next door. You wondered why you'd never run into him before. 

The scent of nicotine hits you immediately, making you cringe as you enter. You pushed your distaste to the back of your mind as you looked around. His apartment was drab. It seemed that gallons of holy water and wards along the doorway were his idea of decorating. The lights cast a dull, sterile brightness on everything it touched, including Constantine. 

Aside from the lifelessness of his home, Constantine was clearly in over his head. It looked like the brownies he mentioned had destroyed most of his things. All of his clothing had been ripped from hangers and out of drawers. Papers and broken dishes were strewn about his kitchen and bedroom. The fridge was hanging half open with food scattered on the floor in front of it. 

“What on Earth did you do to them?” You ask, trying not to giggle at the sight.

“I don't know! I haven't had a problem with them until a couple days ago,” John leans against the sink and lights a cigarette before continuing, “Came back from an exorcism and I guess I brought home some bad energy.” 

“Bad energy?”

“Well, one of the women there, she gave me a handful of crystals. Insisted they'd protect me and shoved them in my pocket. I forgot I had them, honestly,” He takes a drag from his cigarette, “I tossed ‘em on the counter and the next morning, they were all shattered on the table.” 

“Oh,” You blink at him and turn around, “This is going to be more trouble than it's worth, I think.” 

You are lying through your teeth. This would be easy. Those brownies just want balance restored in their space after he fucked the energy up. You want to see if you could make him beg for it. 

“Does that mean you won't help me?” He asks, desperation sticking to every word.

“John. Brownies are ancient. You have no idea what they're capable of. One wrong move…” You look at him with a shrug, raising your eyebrows and frowning dramatically for effect.

“Oh, come on. Midnite wouldn't have sent me to you if you couldn't do it,” Constantine all but whined at you. 

“You're right,” You sigh, “I’ll still help, but I need you to say the magic word.”

“The magic word?” Constantine tilts his head to the side.

“Yeah. Even children know how to say it, John.”

“Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack,” You cross your arms and flutter your wings.

“...please?” He whispers under his breath, like the word is a foreign language to him. 

“Sorry, what was that? I didn't hear you.”

“Please,” He says louder, looking away from you. 

You grin at him and clap your hands, “Great! Now I can get started. Time for you to go.” 

You usher him out and wait until you hear his footsteps trail away before working your magic. All you need to do is find the brownies and talk with them. The best way to resolve this would be to reset the energy and cleanse the space. That's something you could do in your sleep.

-

It's not long before you're finished, so you plop down on one of the pillows on Constantine's bed. It wasn't very comfortable, but nothing else in his home looked to be that way either. 

You must have fallen asleep because you're suddenly startled awake by a loud knock on the door and Constantine opening the front door. 

“You done in here, yet?” He calls out.

“You know, they're attracted to all of the… occult items here. They like your trinkets,” You shout to him from the bed as he walks back into the apartment.

“I'm not surprised,” Constantine finds you on his bed and runs a hand through his hair while looking at you quizzically.

“I had to promise them you’d leave out tiny scones every Thursday for the rest of your miserable life, by the way.”

“...Do I actually have to do that?”

“Only if you want to keep your teeth,” You say matter of factly. 

You stretch out on his pillow like you belong there, one leg dangling off the edge, your wings fanned lazily behind you. His eyes linger, just a second too long.

“It's time to pay up, Constantine,” You sit up, crossing your arms and looking at him sternly, “I've held up my end of the deal. Now it's your turn.”

“Alright, fine,” He grumbles and sits on the other end of the bed, "How much are we talkin’? Gold? Blood? Fae taxes?”

“No, no, no. None of that.” 

“Then what?”

“I want you to do whatever I ask for one night.” 

“This is the favor you had in mind when you said you'd help me?” John looked at you in disbelief. 

“Well… not really. At first, I was just going to make you run a few errands for me,” You smirk, “But now, I think I'd prefer to have some fun with you.” 

John huffs out a laugh, rubbing a hand across his mouth like it might hide the way his lips twitch.

“You really are a menace,” he mutters.

You crawl across the mattress toward him, movements slow and predatory. Your wings catch the light as you shift, casting shadows over the bed. You stop when you're kneeling just in front of him.

“You agreed to this, remember?” 

“I was desperate.”

“And I loved it,” you say sweetly.