johnwickb1tsch
something wick-ed this way comes...
Julia. dirty 30s. john wick x helen, john wick x you, keanuverse, 18+ plz, primary blog @apirateslifeforme123 | A03 sleepylotus
864 posts
Last active 60 minutes ago
Don't wanna be here? Send us removal request.
Last Seen Blogs
movelelodacorrente-blog
Elo Da Corrente
thatssomeisha
'94
zaibakhan-blog
as good as gold
tighthax-blog
TIGHT hax {autoplay}
groovykingdomnightmare
Untitled
Text
Thank you @kittymiaow !!!🤣🤣🤣 This made me cackle! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
@treedaddymcpuffpuff U broke them! 😆😘😘😘
Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight
TW: NSFW, dubcon if you squint
You are laying in bed, not sleeping, feeling sorry for yourself when your phone rings on your bedside table. You don’t recognize the number, so you answer with a cautious, “Hello?”
“Hi, pretty girl.”
You pause a long beat, and not because you don’t recognize the voice on the other end. “How the ever-loving fuck did you get this number?”
It’s Officer Tom Ludlow, of course. Just what you need, on this night from Hell.
“I’m a detective, remember?” You can just hear the self-satisfied smirk, and he’s lucky he’s not standing in front of you, because tonight you just might have slapped him.
You use your moderately adequate brain for some deductive reasoning of your own, and realize, “You took my number from Julian’s phone. After you assaulted him.”
On the other end he lets out a long whistle. “Baby, that’s such a strong word.”
“Do not call me baby.”
“Alright. Sweetheart.”
“God, you are such a fucking caveman.”
“Thank you.”
You sigh, too fucking tired for this shit. Your heart feels like a chewed up piece of gum, and your lady parts are pulsing angrily at you for ruining their evening earlier.
They like the sound of Tom’s deep voice in your ear, and that is so not good.
“You okay?”
The question actually takes you aback, because the smarmy shit-eating tone is gone, and he sounds…serious?
“I guess. Why?”
“That doesn’t sound okay.”
“Why do you think it’s any of your goddamned business?”
“I told you. If Dr. Bitch hurts you, it is my business.”
“He didn’t hurt me,” you grumble. In fact, he didn’t really do much of anything to you. Now that more time has passed, the more annoyed you are about that.
Fuck if Detective Ludlow doesn’t seem to hear that in your voice too. “Ohhhh. Sounds like the Good Doctor didn’t hit anything?”
“Oh my god. I hate you. Do you know that?”
He gives a low chuckle that absolutely goes straight to your deprived pussy, and you squirm a little in bed, so grateful he can’t see you.
“You wish you hated me.”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“Don’t hang up, pretty girl. Tell me what you’re wearing.” His voice dips low, and smooth as velvet.
Every hair on your body lifts in response to this, your nipples pebbling into painful points. Bastard.
“A parka.”
“Pshh. You sleep in a parka? Come on, baby.” How effective that soft, coaxing tone is at dissolving your inhibitions is alarming. You can almost see yourself, as though standing at the edge of a great abyss. If you jump…there will be no going back.
“Fine. I’ll use my own imagination. I think you’re wearing…a cute little lacy negligee that just floats on your luscious curves…”
Well, you guess you’re getting a picture of what he likes.
“Jesus Christ. I’m wearing a tank top, you pervert,” you grouse, trying to shatter his fantasy. Nevermind the fact that you are now soaking wet, again.
“Nice. No panties?”
“I am wearing panties.”
“You aren’t going to need ‘em. Do you know what I’d do to you, after dinner, my beautiful nurse?”
“Gee, I bet you’re going to fucking tell me.”
“Oh come on. We’re having fun.”
“You are having fun.”
“But you’re still listening.”
Well, he has you there, the smug sonofabitch.
“Maybe.”
He chuckles at the other end of the line, a low sound that makes you clench with need.
“You’ve got to answer a question for me first.”
“What?”
“You’ve got to dip into that sweet little pussy for me, and tell me how wet you are on the scale from one to ten.”
You should rip him a new one for this. Or just hang up. Why can’t you just hit the button and end this nonsense? But then…you’d be alone. Your real-time reaction is less dignified, but maybe more honest.
You laugh.
It starts as a giggle, then crescendos into an all out guffaw. “Tom…you are a nut.”
You can hear the smile in his voice as he answers, and goddamn if you don’t actually start to feel better. “Oh come on baby, don’t hold out on me. I’ve got a solid ten inches in my hand for you here.”
This makes you laugh even harder. “Ten inches?!”
“Ok. Maybe nine and a half.”
You giggle, and you can’t stop. “I don’t know if I can handle all that, Officer Ludlow.”
You don’t know how his voice lowers even more, as he says, “Oh, I know you can take it. Don’t worry, I’ll ease it in nice and slow.”
Suddenly the bubbles of laughter in your gut go flat, replaced with an aching heat that sears your insides, your clit throbbing in response to his dirty mouth. It’s possible a kittenish little sound squeaks from the back of your throat.
You really don’t know where you get the courage to ask softly, “Yeah? Then what?”
“Then I would kiss all over those pretty, soft titties. I want those perfect nips in my mouth.”
You know you make a sound then, and he surely hears it. “Will you check them for me? Lick your fingers and give them a pinch.”
“You are ridiculous.” It comes out small, and breathy, and it doesn’t really sound like an insult at all. So what, if you do as he tells you? And so fucking what, if imaging it’s his hands on you makes you feverish with desire, a spear of longing throbbing in your cunt.
He doesn’t answer you right away, which means he’s busy with something else. Maybe Tom is just as pent up as you are from all this edging the two of you have been putting each other through.
“Are you.. are you really?” You ask, hating how your voice exposes the fact that you’re not only pinching your nipples, but borderline feeling yourself up at the sound of his hiking breath.
“Yeah, honey, I am.”
“Oh,” you say, because it’s the only thing you can think of. Your cunt is screaming below about how she wants to talk to Tom Ludlow because you’re doing a shit job at it.
“Ah, fuck. Are you doing what I told you?”
“No.”
“Good. Lick your fingers again, circle those pretty nipples for me. Close your eyes and imagine it’s my tongue. Fuck, I wanna suck on your tits so bad.”
He doesn’t have to know that you’re following orders. That you’re grinding on the bunched blanket between your legs while you imagine his big, rude hands playing with your tits instead of your own.
“You listening to me, beautiful girl?”
“Yeah. Don’t get a big head about it.”
“Good job. And too late.”
“I do hate you, you know. I’m serious.” It has no real venom; in fact, it sounds more like a term of endearment at this point.
He laughs. “C’mon, tell me how soaked she is.”
She’s flooded, is the answer. She’s dampening the pressed comforter, she’s throbbing and screaming and crying and pulsing to the tempo of his black coffee voice.
You’re not much for vocals when you get off. You have neighbors that already have to hear about your dreams, and the act itself seems like more business than pleasure sometimes. When you were younger, you shared a room with your two sisters, so you learned to be quiet and discreet about rubbing your pussy. That all flies out the window when you sink two fingers into your sopping cunt at Tom’s direction.
“10,” you hiss, straining to hit your gspot. Maybe you really do need to invest in one of those toys Sheila is always elbowing you about.
“Oh, poor baby.” Your walls flutter violently at his mocking tone.
“I thought you were going to tell me what you would do to me after dinner?” Maybe you’re desperate, or just stupid. It doesn’t really matter when all you want is to orgasm on Tom’s voice.
“Thought I was? Didn’t I tell you about how I’m gonna dip into that sweet wet pussy, and play with your little clit with my thumb while I fuck you with this big cock? How do you like it, honey? Slow and deep? Fast and hard?”
You make a strangled little sound–because your fingers are just not enough, and it hurts. It hurts that he’s not here with you, filling you up, holding you down with those calloused hands and that filthy, insatiable, mouth.
“What was that?”
His voice is strained, and you think you’re not the only one in pain here.
“Slow,” you answer. “At first.” Why exactly are you handing him this ammunition? How stupid, how dangerous, to offer up the keys to your undoing? You know he will only use this information against you.
“Mmm.” His breathing is labored, and the thought of him with his cock out, stroking himself to this dirty talk is almost too much to stand. Julian had you trussed and at his mercy right in front of him, but couldn’t keep it up. All Tom Ludlow needs is the sound of your voice. After the night you’ve had, that alone is nearly enough to make you cum.
“But then I like it deep,” you pant. “You think you got what it takes?”
“Baby, I’ve got everything you need.”
You are trying to be as quiet as you can, while you abuse your clit with your two middle fingers, practically holding your breath, getting high on the oxygen deprivation. You’re too quiet, you suppose.
“Don’t be shy, beautiful. Gotta let me hear it when you cum for me.”
“Or what?” you grouse. “Maybe I’m just…mixing pancake batter.”
His laughter is strained, and you just know he’s close. “Or you’ll regret it, sweet girl. When I finally get these hands on you? Mmm I’ll make you pay. I’ll make you cum without mercy.”
Again, you can’t help but compare the versions of punishment to the men in your life. Julian wants to hurt you. Tom just wants to make you cum.
“Fuck.”
“Yeah? You there, baby?”
You try to just breathe through your nose, to not give him the satisfaction–but you fail spectacularly.
“Y/n?” He calls, singing your name and making it sound so pretty and good and special.
“Y-yeah?”
“You coming with me? I’m waiting for you.”
You’re right there, dangling over that sweet, slippery precipice that you can usually ease yourself over carefully. Tom gives you a little shove, and you’re plummeting.
“That’s my girl.” He doesn’t sound much better off than you while you sob from the unexpected, haywire orgasm.
It takes a long minute for you to come back to earth, come back to breathless Tom who isn’t saying anything for once in his life.
That pleasant, floaty post coital bliss gets stained with shame when the clarity of who you just mutually masturbated with hits you.
He talks first, what a surprise. “Do you feel better?”
“No.” But then, “a little bit.”
“At least one of us does.” You hear him shuffling around on the other end, maybe opening a fridge. It makes you smile to think of him jerking off at his kitchen table.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Why in God’s name are you still entertaining this conversation? You both got what you wanted, and if you stay here too long listening to his voice you’re going to be right back where you started—ready for round two.
“I won’t feel better until you’re mine.” He sounds humorless, which worries you in itself even without the possessive words added. “C’mon, sweet nurse, aren’t you supposed to help me feel better?”
“I don’t belong to anyone, Tom. I never will.”
“Oh? Bullshit.”
“I’m hanging up.”
Almost as if he knows you’re full of it, or maybe he just doesn’t care about talking into an empty phone line, he continues. “You’re telling me you’ve never wanted a man to take care of you? Protect you, defend you, fuck anyone up who even thinks to raise a hand or word against you?”
Honestly? That’s all you’ve ever wanted, although you’ll take that admittance to your grave. After a lifetime of taking care of other people, having someone to do that for you in return sounds like a castle in the sky. But, the thing about castles in skies? They’re imaginary. You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Let me guess, you’d do all that and more?” Maybe the venomous sarcasm is a little too mean.
He sighs as if you’re the one assaulting his date, stealing his number, and then calling to harass and annoy him. “Okay, tough girl. Get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“No you won’t.”
“Mm. Night, beautiful.”
You wait for him to hang up. He doesn’t. You don’t, either. You feel his grin blossoming through the white noise of the line, listen to him rustle about, hear bottles clinking, water running, fabric swishing. Your eyes get heavy to the sounds of his nightly routine, lashes threatening to touch cheek.
His voice is void of its usual gruff when it permeates the pleasant, strange, foggy land between awake and unconscious. “Baby?”
“Mm, yeah?” You try to make your mouth move properly, but the words come jumbled and slurred, weighted with exhaustion.
“Sweet dreams.”
35 notes
·
View notes
Text
Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight
TW: NSFW, dubcon if you squint
You are laying in bed, not sleeping, feeling sorry for yourself when your phone rings on your bedside table. You don’t recognize the number, so you answer with a cautious, “Hello?”
“Hi, pretty girl.”
You pause a long beat, and not because you don’t recognize the voice on the other end. “How the ever-loving fuck did you get this number?”
It’s Officer Tom Ludlow, of course. Just what you need, on this night from Hell.
“I’m a detective, remember?” You can just hear the self-satisfied smirk, and he’s lucky he’s not standing in front of you, because tonight you just might have slapped him.
You use your moderately adequate brain for some deductive reasoning of your own, and realize, “You took my number from Julian’s phone. After you assaulted him.”
On the other end he lets out a long whistle. “Baby, that’s such a strong word.”
“Do not call me baby.”
“Alright. Sweetheart.”
“God, you are such a fucking caveman.”
“Thank you.”
You sigh, too fucking tired for this shit. Your heart feels like a chewed up piece of gum, and your lady parts are pulsing angrily at you for ruining their evening earlier.
They like the sound of Tom’s deep voice in your ear, and that is so not good.
“You okay?”
The question actually takes you aback, because the smarmy shit-eating tone is gone, and he sounds…serious?
“I guess. Why?”
“That doesn’t sound okay.”
“Why do you think it’s any of your goddamned business?”
“I told you. If Dr. Bitch hurts you, it is my business.”
“He didn’t hurt me,” you grumble. In fact, he didn’t really do much of anything to you. Now that more time has passed, the more annoyed you are about that.
Fuck if Detective Ludlow doesn’t seem to hear that in your voice too. “Ohhhh. Sounds like the Good Doctor didn’t hit anything?”
“Oh my god. I hate you. Do you know that?”
He gives a low chuckle that absolutely goes straight to your deprived pussy, and you squirm a little in bed, so grateful he can’t see you.
“You wish you hated me.”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“Don’t hang up, pretty girl. Tell me what you’re wearing.” His voice dips low, and smooth as velvet.
Every hair on your body lifts in response to this, your nipples pebbling into painful points. Bastard.
“A parka.”
“Pshh. You sleep in a parka? Come on, baby.” How effective that soft, coaxing tone is at dissolving your inhibitions is alarming. You can almost see yourself, as though standing at the edge of a great abyss. If you jump…there will be no going back.
“Fine. I’ll use my own imagination. I think you’re wearing…a cute little lacy negligee that just floats on your luscious curves…”
Well, you guess you’re getting a picture of what he likes.
“Jesus Christ. I’m wearing a tank top, you pervert,” you grouse, trying to shatter his fantasy. Nevermind the fact that you are now soaking wet, again.
“Nice. No panties?”
“I am wearing panties.”
“You aren’t going to need ‘em. Do you know what I’d do to you, after dinner, my beautiful nurse?”
“Gee, I bet you’re going to fucking tell me.”
“Oh come on. We’re having fun.”
“You are having fun.”
“But you’re still listening.”
Well, he has you there, the smug sonofabitch.
“Maybe.”
He chuckles at the other end of the line, a low sound that makes you clench with need.
“You’ve got to answer a question for me first.”
“What?”
“You’ve got to dip into that sweet little pussy for me, and tell me how wet you are on the scale from one to ten.”
You should rip him a new one for this. Or just hang up. Why can’t you just hit the button and end this nonsense? But then…you’d be alone. Your real-time reaction is less dignified, but maybe more honest.
You laugh.
It starts as a giggle, then crescendos into an all out guffaw. “Tom…you are a nut.”
You can hear the smile in his voice as he answers, and goddamn if you don’t actually start to feel better. “Oh come on baby, don’t hold out on me. I’ve got a solid ten inches in my hand for you here.”
This makes you laugh even harder. “Ten inches?!”
“Ok. Maybe nine and a half.”
You giggle, and you can’t stop. “I don’t know if I can handle all that, Officer Ludlow.”
You don’t know how his voice lowers even more, as he says, “Oh, I know you can take it. Don’t worry, I’ll ease it in nice and slow.”
Suddenly the bubbles of laughter in your gut go flat, replaced with an aching heat that sears your insides, your clit throbbing in response to his dirty mouth. It’s possible a kittenish little sound squeaks from the back of your throat.
You really don’t know where you get the courage to ask softly, “Yeah? Then what?”
“Then I would kiss all over those pretty, soft titties. I want those perfect nips in my mouth.”
You know you make a sound then, and he surely hears it. “Will you check them for me? Lick your fingers and give them a pinch.”
“You are ridiculous.” It comes out small, and breathy, and it doesn’t really sound like an insult at all. So what, if you do as he tells you? And so fucking what, if imaging it’s his hands on you makes you feverish with desire, a spear of longing throbbing in your cunt.
He doesn’t answer you right away, which means he’s busy with something else. Maybe Tom is just as pent up as you are from all this edging the two of you have been putting each other through.
“Are you.. are you really?” You ask, hating how your voice exposes the fact that you’re not only pinching your nipples, but borderline feeling yourself up at the sound of his hiking breath.
“Yeah, honey, I am.”
“Oh,” you say, because it’s the only thing you can think of. Your cunt is screaming below about how she wants to talk to Tom Ludlow because you’re doing a shit job at it.
“Ah, fuck. Are you doing what I told you?”
“No.”
“Good. Lick your fingers again, circle those pretty nipples for me. Close your eyes and imagine it’s my tongue. Fuck, I wanna suck on your tits so bad.”
He doesn’t have to know that you’re following orders. That you’re grinding on the bunched blanket between your legs while you imagine his big, rude hands playing with your tits instead of your own.
“You listening to me, beautiful girl?”
“Yeah. Don’t get a big head about it.”
“Good job. And too late.”
“I do hate you, you know. I’m serious.” It has no real venom; in fact, it sounds more like a term of endearment at this point.
He laughs. “C’mon, tell me how soaked she is.”
She’s flooded, is the answer. She’s dampening the pressed comforter, she’s throbbing and screaming and crying and pulsing to the tempo of his black coffee voice.
You’re not much for vocals when you get off. You have neighbors that already have to hear about your dreams, and the act itself seems like more business than pleasure sometimes. When you were younger, you shared a room with your two sisters, so you learned to be quiet and discreet about rubbing your pussy. That all flies out the window when you sink two fingers into your sopping cunt at Tom’s direction.
“10,” you hiss, straining to hit your gspot. Maybe you really do need to invest in one of those toys Sheila is always elbowing you about.
“Oh, poor baby.” Your walls flutter violently at his mocking tone.
“I thought you were going to tell me what you would do to me after dinner?” Maybe you’re desperate, or just stupid. It doesn’t really matter when all you want is to orgasm on Tom’s voice.
“Thought I was? Didn’t I tell you about how I’m gonna dip into that sweet wet pussy, and play with your little clit with my thumb while I fuck you with this big cock? How do you like it, honey? Slow and deep? Fast and hard?”
You make a strangled little sound–because your fingers are just not enough, and it hurts. It hurts that he’s not here with you, filling you up, holding you down with those calloused hands and that filthy, insatiable, mouth.
“What was that?”
His voice is strained, and you think you’re not the only one in pain here.
“Slow,” you answer. “At first.” Why exactly are you handing him this ammunition? How stupid, how dangerous, to offer up the keys to your undoing? You know he will only use this information against you.
“Mmm.” His breathing is labored, and the thought of him with his cock out, stroking himself to this dirty talk is almost too much to stand. Julian had you trussed and at his mercy right in front of him, but couldn’t keep it up. All Tom Ludlow needs is the sound of your voice. After the night you’ve had, that alone is nearly enough to make you cum.
“But then I like it deep,” you pant. “You think you got what it takes?”
“Baby, I’ve got everything you need.”
You are trying to be as quiet as you can, while you abuse your clit with your two middle fingers, practically holding your breath, getting high on the oxygen deprivation. You’re too quiet, you suppose.
“Don’t be shy, beautiful. Gotta let me hear it when you cum for me.”
“Or what?” you grouse. “Maybe I’m just…mixing pancake batter.”
His laughter is strained, and you just know he’s close. “Or you’ll regret it, sweet girl. When I finally get these hands on you? Mmm I’ll make you pay. I’ll make you cum without mercy.”
Again, you can’t help but compare the versions of punishment to the men in your life. Julian wants to hurt you. Tom just wants to make you cum.
“Fuck.”
“Yeah? You there, baby?”
You try to just breathe through your nose, to not give him the satisfaction–but you fail spectacularly.
“Y/n?” He calls, singing your name and making it sound so pretty and good and special.
“Y-yeah?”
“You coming with me? I’m waiting for you.”
You’re right there, dangling over that sweet, slippery precipice that you can usually ease yourself over carefully. Tom gives you a little shove, and you’re plummeting.
“That’s my girl.” He doesn’t sound much better off than you while you sob from the unexpected, haywire orgasm.
It takes a long minute for you to come back to earth, come back to breathless Tom who isn’t saying anything for once in his life.
That pleasant, floaty post coital bliss gets stained with shame when the clarity of who you just mutually masturbated with hits you.
He talks first, what a surprise. “Do you feel better?”
“No.” But then, “a little bit.”
“At least one of us does.” You hear him shuffling around on the other end, maybe opening a fridge. It makes you smile to think of him jerking off at his kitchen table.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Why in God’s name are you still entertaining this conversation? You both got what you wanted, and if you stay here too long listening to his voice you’re going to be right back where you started—ready for round two.
“I won’t feel better until you’re mine.” He sounds humorless, which worries you in itself even without the possessive words added. “C’mon, sweet nurse, aren’t you supposed to help me feel better?”
“I don’t belong to anyone, Tom. I never will.”
“Oh? Bullshit.”
“I’m hanging up.”
Almost as if he knows you’re full of it, or maybe he just doesn’t care about talking into an empty phone line, he continues. “You’re telling me you’ve never wanted a man to take care of you? Protect you, defend you, fuck anyone up who even thinks to raise a hand or word against you?”
Honestly? That’s all you’ve ever wanted, although you’ll take that admittance to your grave. After a lifetime of taking care of other people, having someone to do that for you in return sounds like a castle in the sky. But, the thing about castles in skies? They’re imaginary. You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Let me guess, you’d do all that and more?” Maybe the venomous sarcasm is a little too mean.
He sighs as if you’re the one assaulting his date, stealing his number, and then calling to harass and annoy him. “Okay, tough girl. Get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“No you won’t.”
“Mm. Night, beautiful.”
You wait for him to hang up. He doesn’t. You don’t, either. You feel his grin blossoming through the white noise of the line, listen to him rustle about, hear bottles clinking, water running, fabric swishing. Your eyes get heavy to the sounds of his nightly routine, lashes threatening to touch cheek.
His voice is void of its usual gruff when it permeates the pleasant, strange, foggy land between awake and unconscious. “Baby?”
“Mm, yeah?” You try to make your mouth move properly, but the words come jumbled and slurred, weighted with exhaustion.
“Sweet dreams.”
#tom ludlow x reader#tom ludlow#street kings#tom Ludlow fic#keanuverse#keanuverse fic#our baaaaby 😘😘😘
35 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐃𝐎𝐍 𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ♥︎ ⠀⠀──⠀⠀(⠀more mini musings.⠀)
fics.
his merciless love. COMING SOON.
when you’re betrothed to don pedro, the eldest son and rightful heir to the throne, don john is less than happy about it. his brother has stolen many things from him— but you will not be one of them.
© 𝐈𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐀 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. do not copy, translate or repost my works.
13 notes
·
View notes
Note
so people are here for don john
um
would he really be able to actually be in love or is everything petty with him?
My theory as to why he hates seeing happy couples and people in relationships, is because of a previous relationship that turned sour. Maybe a woman cheated on him or led him on only to find out she never liked him in the first place.
So, if he ever did fall in love again, he would be in heavy denial, refusing to believe he has fallen for someone, making him be petty and decide to do the opposite of embrace his feelings and instead make her life a living hell.
But I truly think someone could get through to him if they tried hard enough. (When I talked about that 'I can fix him' type of woman, I meant me. I'm her.)
16 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi! first time saying something here, i just read “be my daddy tonight.” and it was one of the greatest things i’ve read! and a thought popped in my mind, what would happened if bratty!rich!reader meets a certain lawyer (Kevin Lomax) in one of her dads senator’s ball? how would her bodyguard’s react? 👀🫣
(if you don’t like the idea you can ignore it!)
i love your blog btw! i always come back everyday to check it it’s one of my favorite things 💗
-☾𖤓
yeah bratty!reader definitely is gonna need to lawyer up with all the scandals she's up to .. and thank you, lovie ♡ !! (wrote this in hc form because it's 3am..)
୨୧ ⋆ you weren't even paying attention when you bumped into kevin. you were too busy trying to slide past the groups of boring, old businessmen, when suddenly, your shoulder harshly collides with another.
୨୧ ⋆ obviously you turn around to scold whoever they are, because uh— helloooo?— rude, much? the words leave your lips before you recognise who you're speaking to:
୨୧ ⋆ kevin's slightly impressed / shocked by your attitude. "a little sour under that sweetness, i see," he muses, sipping his champagne with a smirk.
୨୧ ⋆ you're not the first rich offspring brat he's encountered at these balls— but you're definitely the prettiest, which is why he entertains your attitude problem.
୨୧ ⋆ kevin's real smooth, and even makes you trip over your words at a point. his sultry southern twang was such a refreshing change from the droning of the geriatrics in suits. kevin is suave, kevin is confident, kevin is.. touching your waist?
"you were right— softest thing i've ever felt," he makes you pause and look down, and you see his fingers gently feeling the material wrapped around your waist.
"someone's touchy," you scoff, but can feel your ears burning.
୨୧ ⋆ the first one to notice this was of course john (wick)— he any ways was searching for you— being the ever vigilant bodyguard he is. and he's genuinely frozen when he sees how cozy you and the sleazebag lawyer have been getting.
"so you found her—" constantine walks up behind his partner, but his words cut short when he sees was john is staring at. "you've got to be kidding me."
"my sentiments exactly," john mumbles, his voice low, his eyes unable to tear away from the distant sight.
୨୧ ⋆ the pair of them are just staring.. like staring at you and kevin talking. john is quietly seething because he loves to brood, while constantine is just taking digs at kevin.
"he looks 5'7," constantine rolls his eyes. "hey, how much you wanna bet i can get that exact shirt he's wearing at the dollar store—"
୨୧ ⋆ between listening to constantine's thinly veiled jabs, and watching you shamefully let kevin hit on you— john chooses to just put an end to both.
୨୧ ⋆ he bluntly asserts himself in between you and kevin, keeping his back to him. you tell him off for being rude, and you're only met with a silent glare.
"that was so rude, what the hell's your problem?!" you hiss, your tone high-pitched and pissed as john drags you away. he made up some excuse of your father needing to talk to you. "god, you totally embarrassed me back there!"
"send your boyfriend my sincerest apology," john replies monotonously, except for the word 'boyfriend' which was laced with mockery.
୨୧ ⋆ constantine's wearing his smug smirk when he makes eye contact with kevin, silently telling him to 'fuck off', before following behind you and john. let the games begin.
49 notes
·
View notes
Text
Here take this while I work on my other project about Robert Sean Leonard
My contribution to the Much Ado About Nothing fandom!
164 notes
·
View notes
Text
I HAVE A REQUEST
guess its just a meme
I love our The Keanuverse fandom sm! So many crossovers. Tex Johnson x John Wick x Johnny Utah x Constantine by @treedaddymcpuffpuff @johnwickb1tsch @sweetwolfcupcake @tammykelly. Constantine x John Wick by @iovesia . Tom Ludlow x Julian Marcer by @treedaddymcpuffpuff @johnwickb1tsch. David Griffin and Donnie Barks by @imajinxnation. Kevin Lomax x John Constantine by @lilithlinen
So @discoscoob made a crossover You were divorcing Donnie, and Kevin Lomax was your lawyer.
and my last brain cell: OH! I HAVE A CROSSOVER REQUEST.
So, Donnie and you were divorcing.
Since Donnie made life pretty crappy, you had been diving into books. Your top pick was "Much Ado About Nothing." Weirdly, you were totally into Don John, the villian. You couldn't help but think he was kind of awesome and even had some wild fantasies about him.
Your all-time favorite band was Samurai, and you were a regular at their concerts. If it weren't for your lousy life with Donnie, you'd definitely be a full-on groupie, no doubt about it.
Almost every day, Ted Logan would come knocking on your door, pleading for another round of guitar practice with Bill in your garage. Every time, you'd give in and let them jam out. Eventually, you just handed Ted the keys to the garage. Ted was so happy! He couldn't stop grinning widely and practically bounced around with joy when he got the keys to the garage.
There was a neighbor to your right. There was this handsome guy. Military-style cropped hair, always chewing gum like it was his job. Every time you crossed paths, he flashed you playful wink. You'd just awkwardly smile back, not quite sure what to make of it.
On your left lived this perpetually gloomy guy, always puffing away on a cigarette with his tousled hair. You'd always greet him, and in return, he'd just nod while puffing on a cigarette, not even bothering to look your way. You stopped greeting him, and that's when the cigarette butts started showing up in your backyard. Furious, every time you stormed over and angrily laid into him, letting him know exactly what you thought about his behavior. But all he did was grin and nod, then slam the door loudly in your face. It made you wonder if this was his bizarre way of communicating with you—maybe even flirting?
You were employed at an advertising firm run by Nelson Moss, a total workaholic. He was always pushing for you to work non-stop, 24/7.
To relax, you and your friends hit the waves for some surfing. It was during one of these sessions that you met Johnny Utah, who begged you to teach him how to ride the waves. You two had a blast until the sun went down. When he offered to walk you home, you politely declined.
As you were strolling down a dimly lit street, a man with a charming smile approached you, asking if you'd pose for his camera. You found it odd to be taking pictures at 11 p.m. Suddenly, he attacked you, and you feared for your life.
But just when you thought it was all over, John Wick appeared. He was driving by and happened to be in the right place at the right time to save you.
He rushed you to the hospital, where the charming Dr. Julian Mercer examined you and assured you that none of the vital organs were affected.
While you were lying in the hospital ward, Detective Tom Ludlow came in to investigate the maniac case and asked you a few questions.
Oh and Donaka Mark was watching all your life on the cameras.
And naturally, you've been sex with each of them (except Ted, for obvious reasons).
Who would dare to write such a fanfiction?
46 notes
·
View notes
Text
This is inhuman –
yet it’s mine.
— Marina Tsvetaeva, ‘Wires’ Bride of Ice: New Selected Poems (translated by Elaine Feinstein)
This thing of darkness I
Acknowledge mine.
— William Shakespeare, The Tempest
I am terrified by this dark thing
That sleeps in me;
All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity.
— Sylvia Plath, ‘Elm’
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
the internet isnt enough i need to appear in my mutuals rooms and gossip while hanging upside down off their beds
10K notes
·
View notes
Note
Am I the only one that think that Kevin Lomax from The Devil's Advocate was a dick? 🤔
LOL no, I don't think you're the only one...😆
Although, I just watched this movie yesterday, and I was expecting him to be an absolute raging monster, but mostly I saw a man who loved his wife? He definitely made some bad choices due to ambition, and vanity, but he was actually...pretty sweet? ::ducks the tomatoes::
I took the ending with some hope that he would remember the stakes and avoid the pitfalls...a girl can dream, right?
7 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hello! don john x reader angst where the reader thinks her love is unrequited?
Nighttime Love
Don John x FEM!Reader
SUMMARY // You're visiting your uncle in Messina, and Don John catches your eye. Little do you know, you've caught his too..
TW // Angst, Fluff, Suggestive..
Ugh love this idea..
I made the English a bit more modern, cause God knows how confusing Shakespearian English can be😭😭
Also, thank you @scarlettspectra for letting me use your gif! You're such a sweetheart, I swear!!
Omg I hate this one.. this fucking sucks so bad.. I had so little ideas for this..
"My dear, why would you be in love with a man such as himself? You know what he's done to Hero and Don Pedro.. to everyone!" your uncle whispers, concerned for your feelings.
Currently, you and your uncle are in a stone alleyway, as you had pulled him aside from the market to confess to him your feelings for the quiet, stone faced man known as Don John. You cry and shake your head.
"No, I know, Uncle! But my heart can't help but desire him.." you say, desperately trying to make him understand.
Your uncle sighs and nods in understanding, remembering when he had fell in love with his wife, a similar situation to yours.
"I know, my dear.. but you have to understand, he loves no one, he is a man who only desires one thing.. chaos," your uncle rubs your arms comfortingly.
You let out a shaky breath and let your head fall into your uncle's chest, knowing he was probably right. As you cry into his chest, his hands stroking your hair in comfort, neither of you notice a head peaking around the corner, listening in to your conversation.
Don John leans back on the wall, thinking for a moment before smirking and walking away, a slight bounce in his step. As he passes by the people in the market, they all stare at him, wondering what mischievious plan he would go through with next. With how happy he seemed, he had to be planning something.
And they were right, because the next day, a letter arrived at your uncle's abode, addressed to you. There was a time and a meeting place written on it, and no name.
'Tonight at 8, meet me in the center of the town garden. I'll be waiting.' - It wrote.
Your heart drops to your stomach in both fear and anticipation. You hide the letter from your uncle and go about your day before sneaking out at 8 to meet the mysterious sender.
Your room is on the lower level of the small two storey house, so sneaking out was quite easy, climbing through your window, your night gown nearly dragging on the ground as you run towards the garden bare foot, the cold dirt soft against your feet as the night brings a certain calm and cool.
Once you reach the garden, you stop running and walk through the maze, trying to remember the way to the center of it. You find yourself at a few dead ends before finally making your way to the center of the elaborate hedge maze.
You arrive to see nobody, your brows furrow in confusion and call out, announcing your presence to anyone who may be there.
"Ah.. sweet little (Y/n).. how lovely that you have followed my instructions.." a monotonous voice calls back, coming out from behind a large bush.
His short, black hair shone in the moonlight, along with his deep brown eyes. A smirk played on his bearded lips. It was Don John.
"My Prince.. to what do I owe the pleasure?" You laugh out of nervousness, blushing when you realize you're dressed quite indecently to be in front of a man of such stature, "ah.. forgive me for my indecency.. I came as soon as I could.." you mutter shyly.
Don John lets out a humourless chuckle and walks around you slowly, as if stalking his prey, sizing you up.
"No need to be sorry, sweet flower.. Seeing you like this is quite.. endearing," he smirks.
Your heartbeat quickens, looking anywhere but at him due to fear and embarrassment. You blush and cross your arms, knowing the cool air was most likely revealing your hardened nipples.
"Well? What have you called me for?" You ask, getting flustered and slightly annoyed.
He chuckles once more before coming up behind you, placing his hands on your waist, his lips brushing up against your ear. Chills run down your spine, whether from the wind or his hot breath in your ear, you couldn't tell, but you didn't mind it.
"I heard somewhere that a little lady fancies me.. Is that true, my sweet.. delicate.. flower.." he whispers hotly in your ear, sending a rush of warmth to your lower stomach.
You gulp and blush, unable to deny his words.
"Yes.. it's true.. What of it? It's not like you return those feelings.." you huff out, getting upset at your own thoughts.
"Mm.. and what if I told you those feelings were requited? What would you say? What would you do, little dove?" He nibbles at your ear teasingly.
You gasp and twist your head around so you can see him more out of your peripheral vision. Before you can answer, his lips are devouring yours hungrily, making you squeak and moan in surprise. He groans at your taste, biting your bottom lip sensually, turning you around so the front of your body is fully facing him.
He pulls away and licks your upper lip teasingly before leaning down to whisper in your ear once more.
"You're mine.. You're going to be my sweet princess.." He grins and grips your waist tightly.
What have you gotten yourself into..
#libido? turnt on#red flags? ignored#red what red?#all i see are those beautiful brown eyeeees#don john
32 notes
·
View notes
Text
John Constantine
⭒˗ˏˋ𓆩 ⚠ 𓆪ˎˊ˗⭒ please, don’t repost/reupload my gifs and screenshots without my permission or credits
83 notes
·
View notes
Note
Is it normal that I'm interested in Keanu and his character's dark story? Please don't get me wrong! 🙏 I'm a good person is like I'm interested in this type of Kink, is it normal?
I think it's perfectly normal! Lots of people clearly are. I really wonder if it has something to do with the fact that he's such a sweetheart in real life, it's like he feels like a safe space, LOL. I can honestly say I was never really into dark romance until I found this fandom, and I'm never going back 🤣
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
Look what just showed up for free on TUBI 🥵
#street kings#april 25 2024#keanu reeves#tom ludlow#i could only find it on hulu or amazon b4#free with little ad breaks i guess i should say
9 notes
·
View notes