Warnings: NSFW content (Minors Do Not Interact), Extremely dubious consent, fingering, near drowning, Constantine is bad with emotions. Brief scenes with smoking (it's Constantine). Angst. This is fanfiction, please DO NOT try this at home!
Summary: Constantine needs a backdoor into Heaven. That task involves you, a bathtub, and his very skilled fingers.
AO3 Link
A/N: This fic is dedicated to Ginny aka opheliainlove42. She has long since deactivated but she wrote amazing fics for the Keanuverse fandom. She is one of the people that encouraged me to start writing for this fandom and I cannot thank her enough. This is for you, Ginny, wherever you are 💜
I consider this fic in the same Constantine universe as Little Favors so yet another mess he puts the poor reader through.
Also thank you to @pointbreakvhs for beta reading this fic. 🤍
Thank you to @atomic-groupie for being my writing accountability partner. 💚
Divider credits to @jjaksclayton 🖤
Gif credits to @scamarcio
Oh the places a simple crush can land you. Going along with John Constantine frequently has you questioning your own sanity. It shouldn't surprise you. When someone deals with demons for a living, they must have experimental hobbies—you just didn't expect to be included in this next one.
Constantine first introduced this hobby to you one drizzly evening while eating your favorite takeout together. The comfort food paired nicely with the casual atmosphere and smooth blanket of rainwater cascading down your apartment windows. You took another bite while watching two wayward water droplets race along the pane. A soft prickle traveled from the back of your neck and up to the tips of your ears.
Each of your senses flared when you came in close proximity to Constantine, especially when his eyes were on you. You were hopeless. You weren't sure what stage of infatuation you were in when every millimeter of your body heated up when any amount of his attention was on you. It didn't matter what emotion: he could be melancholic, cranky, irate, or amused—you've never seen Constantine fully happy—they all brought about the same reaction.
You try, and fail, to ignore the obvious heat budding in your face. Turning, you see the umber shades of his irises dimmed by exhaustion and bad habits.
"I need a back door into Heaven." It was concerning how nonchalant he could be when discussing matters of the divine.
"Oh really?" You've learned to always hear him out no matter how impossible it sounds.
With a lazy draw of his freshly lit cigarette, he continues. "I need to get into Heaven for work purposes. However I can't simply fly through the pearly gates, that would bring too much attention."
Seems simple enough. "How do you plan on getting there?"
"Whenever I say 'I'll try anything once,' this is not what I mean!"
Constantine twists one of the squeaky knobs on the porcelain bathtub. Steam curls around his unnaturally pallid face. He was sickly looking like a Victorian child but with the constitution of a 70s rock star. His brow furrowed in concentration while testing the water's temperature.
"Can't give away all my plans. You would back out every time if I did." A smirk ghosts across his lips when looking at your apprehensive expression.
"I love—" you caught yourself. "I'm happy to help you, but I've never put my life in danger for you…"
"Don't trust me?" His eyebrow raise would be enough to end you.
"It's not that," you sigh, sitting on the edge of the tub next to him. "What if I crossover and don't come back? Or at worst I end up going to Hell instead—"
Constantine grabbed your hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. His fingers are warm and still wet from the bathwater, their touch lighting up your nervous system like electricity. His demeanor was deadly serious, burning you as if you were one of those wretched demons he fights.
"I've got you." His other hand trailed from your shoulder to your elbow, holding you firmly. "I'm going to be with you the whole time. If anything happens, I'll pull you out."
If Constantine is anything, he is persuasive with you. If his hands weren't already on you, you'd be jumping in the water immediately.
Instead you stand up and unzip your jacket, revealing your tank top. You internally preened when his eyes trailed your torso and locked onto the button of your pants.
"I'm already drowning myself for you. You don't get a show." You tease, earning a soft exhale—the closest you've ever gotten to a laugh—from him.
"Understood." He whispers, taking your hand and guiding you into the bathtub like an uncommonly gentleman.
The tepid water envelopes you in a rolling embrace. Constantine keeps a hand to your back while you sat with your legs out. "I understand water is a common method of going between worlds but how long exactly will I be submerged?"
"As long as it takes." There he goes again with the edgy vagueness you simultaneously love and loathe. "Remember—"
"Heaven and Hell are closer to us than you realize." You complete his saying.
"Good girl."
Oh that bastard.
"W-well, I—" you stammer.
"Lie back." He commands softly.
He'd rolled up his sleeves, exposing his pale forearms and the split Red King alchemy tattoos. The same hand on your back lowers you below the surface. It was a strange parody of a baptism—with Constantine as your unorthodox priest and you being his ever so faithful follower. This dangerous exercise would prove to you just how far you're willing to go for your faith in him.
The reality of your situation pressed down on you like Constantine's hand currently resting against your sternum. He plays fast and loose with his own mortality, you are all too aware he held your own quite literally in his hands. There's nothing else for you to do but close your eyes and wait for your life to inch recklessly towards the edge with only John's word that he'll save you from oblivion.
Moments passed like grains of sand in an hourglass. It was far too late to give up now; even if you wanted to get out, Constantine was far to strong. In fact, his hand on your chest pinned you with even more force while his other hand—was unbuttoning your pants.
Wait…this wasn't part of the deal…
You open your eyes and see through the surface of the water Constantine looming over you like an angel of death. His gaze leers at you. Gone was the teasing and his sardonic attitude; dark eyes like voids threatening to overtake you in their abyss.
He pulls down on your pants zipper. Panic floods your mind and you try pushing or kicking him away. It's no use, he deflects every one of your feeble attempts at fighting him off. Exhaustion from being underwater slowed your struggling. Before he continued touching you, he held both your wrists while his other hand rested firmly on your thigh, squeezing it tightly.
He expression didn't waver but through the panic of your body in fight or flight, you barely captured a glimpse into his eyes yet again. Heat flickered in the darkness, looking at you with longing: raw and unable to be hidden.
Trust me, he seemed to tell you. Let me take you to Heaven.
Loving Constantine is hazardous but he was going to make it all worth it. His hand moved from your thigh and plunged under your waistband, thumb circling your clit through your underwear in torturous circles before pulling them to the side. It took every ounce of your willpower not to moan and release your precious air when he breached your entrance with two long fingers.
With the risk of your life, he had to work fast. His skilled fingers set a fast rhythm making your back arch and your hands grip the sides of the tub. He must use some of his divine magic to give you this much intense pleasure. How else would he make you feel this good?
He adds a third finger and the world around you goes blurry. Your arm shoots out of the water and you grab onto his bicep. His muscles flexed with every thrust and curl inside you, making you tighten and melt beneath him.
This must be Heaven. Goes your final thought before your vision goes white, your brain shuts off, and you scream…
There is brightness all around you gradually fading back into nothingness before you finally register Constantine's lips on yours giving you the kiss of life. Once conscious, he gently rotates you on your side to get the rest of the water out of your lungs.
"There you are, sweetheart," he rubs your back. "Welcome back."
Pushing yourself off the floor, you take in your surroundings. John had pulled you out of the bathtub, his white shirt was soaked through. You knew you were alert and cognizant when your attention pinpointed the material clinging to his lean torso and emphasizing the muscles there.
"I hope you got into Heaven because I am not doing that ever again," your tone was exasperated as he draped a fluffy towel around your shoulders.
"I did," he helped you stand up and steered you towards his bed. "It was only a second for us but to angels that is how long eternity is."
John gets you another towel while you dry off. Looking down at yourself, you notice your pants had been zipped up again. Butterflies violently swarmed in your stomach while he was carrying himself as if what he did to you never happened.
You couldn't bear ignoring what just happened to you. He will not evade this explanation. "John…"
This gives him pause, coming back to your side and assisted toweling your arms and shoulders. "Yes sweetheart?"
"I was not expecting your hands—" you bite your lip. "And everything else that happened…"
"I know." He says, wrapping a protective arm around you.
"I liked it," you laugh despite the situation. "But maybe give a little warning next time…"
"I'll remember that." He smirks.
"Why?" So much was loaded behind your one-word question.
"Euphoria is what guarantees Heaven. Death alone is only a fifty-fifty shot." He states matter-of-factly.
"Of course," you comment sarcastically. "The saying is 'at least buy me dinner first' but in this case, will you take me to dinner now?"
"Let's go." He helps put your jacket back on before doing the same to himself and you two leave his apartment for your favorite fancy restaurant.
Solace was too simple a word to describe how Constantine felt when Heaven gave you back to him. He may work with celestial beings, but no angel in Heaven compares to the light you bring to his life. If he was honest with himself, he knew you deserved so much better than someone as damaged as he is. But despite knowing this, he was still selfish and wanted to have you in any way he could.
It was just unfortunate the only way he could rationalize being with you physically was when Heaven or Hell was involved. Maybe one day he will be able to tell you how he really feels about you, but for now he was formulating the next mission he will need your "help" with.
A/N: I wanted to make a NSFW version of the bathtub scene from the movie and this was the result.
Tags/Warnings: Smut, p in v sex, penetration, heat cycles, Pon Farr, childhood friends, implied breeding, swearing, first-time sex, MINORS DNI!!
A/N: Thank you to @thatgingernerdgirl for being my writing accountability buddy AND my loveliest beta reader, proofreader, and cheerleader! This is my first smut, and you were so encouraging and helpful for any questions I had <33 And thank you to @jjaksclayton for the mega-cute Star Trek divider!! I'm so love with it <3
1800 hours, Alpha shift. Finally, it had ended. The shift was relieved by Commander La Forge, and your replacement, Ensign Kurosawa, was beside your helm as you let out a sigh of exhaustion. You blinked and rubbed your eyes as the light of the Enterprise's bridge shined hotter as you rose. Heavy weights clung to your body. Your muscles longed to sink into your bunk bed, in the dim cabin. No, holodeck three was calling your name - and a program with the sweet sun of the planet Risa. Sweet actually alcoholic drinks, sweet Risians, and extra sweet jamahoran until the sun gave out.
The air was stale with a fresh, clean smell, like newly upholstered carpet as you made your way into the turbo lift. Engines and machinery wrapped all around inside the walls, above in ceilings, below your feet, a roar that bellowed at a register below a hum above on this deck. It was a lovely lullaby you were already mimicking as you made your way. How sweet the Enterprise sang, such a well-oiled songbird. Several crew of your rank passed you, saying "hi" and waving briefly or giving a soft smile of acknowledgment as they went on their busy ways, and you did as well, under anchoring eyelids. A lovely lullaby, yes, but you were going to fall asleep standing up any minute now.
After several minutes, you made it to the crew quarters, and began one last journey down the long, bright passage to your cabin. Wearing a yellow shirt certainly wasn't helping things. So, so bright.
Your cabin was not any more special than others on the lower decks. Two beds, desks, a replicator, the works -as well as a few personal effects from home. Once you got promoted, and thus your own cabin, your beloved pet will be joining you as well.
"Hi!"
The unique feature you were awarded? Your roommate: Ted "Theodore" Logan. Your best friend since the academy. Well, since childhood.
The door opened with a soft whoosh, and Ted was there laying on his bunk, all six-and-a-half feet. He sat up with a great yawn, stretching those gangling limbs of his. His red uniform was rumpled and messy, belt missing, fly undone, and his hair was sticking up three ways from Sunday. If he was any more entangled, those pointy ears would be folded over like a dog.
"Hey, Ted." You gave a half-smile, falling toward your bed. "It's been a long damn shift, and we've just identified a weird thing in the middle of nowhere. Gird your loins."
"Yeah, thanks." You moved behind the divider, a solid wedge between your side and his, and changed into your nightclothes. "How my heart yearns for the crystal shores of Risa! Until then, I'll settle for Holodeck four.
"Oh yeah? How are the holodecks? I've never been in one yet."
"Oh, they're amazing! Anything you want, any place you want to be," You snapped your fingers, "like that!"
Ted grinned and laughed in amusement. So strange it was, seeing a Vulcan smile. Yet, he was so joyful and energetic, your spine straightened and you laughed with him. "I have to try it sometime," he said. "We should try it sometime."
"Totally, man." You crashed on your bed. "Oh, yes! Thank you..." But something itched at your mind, like you'd forgotten something. "Do you have a shift coming up?" Maybe that was it. But just in case, you searched your uniform. Lo and behold, your badge was missing. Commander la Forge did say something about it being missing. You were left off with a warning, but you would be reprimanded if it kept happening.
"What?" He went over the food synthesizer, "Computer. French fries and an orange soda."
"Real healthy breakfast there, Socrates." You teased, ducking down below your desk.
"So? I want a taste of home! Sue me!" He snapped. "Computer, turn lights down 75%."
Okay, what was that? You shook your head, going back to your search. "Ugh, I can't see anything. Computer, turn on the lights."
The light brightened.
"Augh, Please, I'm eating. Computer, turn down the lights."
The lights turned down to the same darkness as before.
"Ted, I seriously need to find my badge. Just one minute, please."
A flash in his eyes. In the dim cabin, the whites of his eyes shined with great unease, even fear. Then...anger. White hot rage - hot as the Vulcan suns. His lips tightened. In a fraction of a second, he hurled his plate of fries towards you. You curled further into your bed, and they flew into the wall overhead. The plate smashed into pieces and fries went all across the floor beside you.
"Damn it! The lights are blinding me, woman! If you want peace and quiet, go to Ten Forward!" Ted roared. His face had a raging green tint. You froze. His fists curled around the edge of his bed. The metal beneath his fingers groaned and bent to his strength like clay. He grabbed your arm and dragged you up. "Leave me alone!"
You scrambled out of bed, tripping over yourself and nearly bumping into the automatic door as you got the hell in the hallway.
"Ted! What the hell!" The doors to your bunk closed behind you. A few sparse crew members passed you, looking on for a moment but going about their day.
=
You rubbed your eyes, waiting for the time to be on the dot before stepping in front of the automatic doors, which chirped and open.
"Come in." The voice of Counselor Troi greeted. Her office was warm and fitted with curved muted purple furniture and dim lighting. Ugh, finally, something comfortable to sit on. You gave a weak smile, just barely trying to stay awake as you sat down on the couch. There she was, on a funky chair like sitting in a flower petal. She had dark Betazoid eyes that made her look like a specter in a mauve jumpsuit, which never made sense that she got a different uniform, but who were you to question.
"Hello, Counselor." The couch was heaven! How it felt stiff but very soft escaped you, but no matter. "I, uh...I'm glad you could see me."
"What seems to be the issue, Ensign?" She frowned slightly as she focused on you. "Besides your lack of sleep."
"Well," You sighed, "My roommate is being...difficult." A pressure like a gentle hand on a rippling wave, became present in your mind. It was like a soft hug around your brain. Surely, she was feeling the sharp, cold pangs of anxiety just at the thought trying to return to your room.
Counselor Troi frowned. "Have you tried to resolve things amicably? Do you think this is cause for a cabin reassignment?"
You shook your head. "No, no... I... I don't think this is a..." Your hands clenched above your head. "I don't even know! I just wanted to sleep the other day, after my shift, but then he argues with me about the lights - which he's never done! He wants them low, I wanted them on, and then he throws his food at me and I get kicked out! Ted! I've never seen him so angry at anything!" A heavy riptide had swallowed you, spat you out just fast. that probing came again, and you felt your palms slick and hot like you'd touch a hot stove. You wiped your hands on your uniform, hiding the blood and sweat on your black pants.
She nodded solemnly, "Okay, I understand." Troi gently bit her thumb and leaned forward, thinking. "Let's take some deep breaths and take it slowly. Your roommate...he is Vulcan, correct? Ensign Logan?'
"Yes, he's Vulcan. Though, he laughs so much I forget he's anything but Ted" You smiled to yourself, looking down at your hands. "Why?"
She pursed her lips, "He might be going through a very...sensitive time for a Vulcan. So sensitive, not even they talk about it between each other. It happens every few years, I think. You can find out more from Dr. Crusher if you'd like."
"Okay..."
"I'd say give him some space for a while. Do you know if he someone special to him aboard? Do you know if he's in a relationship of some kind? Someone close to him on board?"
You thought. No, you would remember if he told you. He told you everything, and what he didn't need to you already knew. Even when you first met as children, you two were practically symbiotic. In fact, when some girl broke his heart once at the Academy, even though you didn't hear it yourself, you could have killed that bitch for the pain and anguish she caused him.
"No, nobody. Me, yes. But no girlfriend or "mate"."
Troi looked at you, and again, that gentle, probing pressure was there. "I think, in this circumstance, you are going to mean much more than a friend to him. He needs your support right now, more than anything else."
"Oh. Okay, then. Thank you, counselor." You frowned as you exited, and all of a sudden, that feeling came again - that short-fuse anger, but, on top of your own, there was also fear.
=
He flinched as the hypospray injected him with something cold. "There, this is a fever-reducer. It should help reduce pain, even just a little."
"Thanks. I don't know what's wrong with me, Doctor." Ted seethed through his teeth as Dr. Crusher put the hypospray away. Why did she have to sound so goddamn level-headed and calm when he's going to explode in his skin?1 "I'm a damn hair trigger. I threw a plate of food; I grabbed her and threw her out like she was a bag of garbage!" He whined. His nails dug further into the bed, tearing into it. Fuck this. He was going to kill the nearest person if he kept on being poked with this and that medical instrument.
She looked at him, almost pityingly. "You really don't know. Do you? A Vulcan of your age?"
"Clearly not! What the hell is wrong with me!?" Dr. Crusher closed her eyes, as if steeling herself against his outburst. The fever began to lessen, if only a smidgen more bearable. "Why am I like this all of sudden?"
Dr. Crusher put her data pad at her side. "Ted, you've had to have experienced these symptoms before. Aggressiveness, increased body temperature, deadly hormonal imbalance. I'm surprised you're even alive right now."
"Yeah, but so does everyone when they're going through puberty. Don't they!?"
"Not at the level of Vulcans. At this level, a human would be boiling in their skin. Did your father seriously never talk to you about this? Your mother? These times means life or death, how have you managed all of these years without a mate or medical intervention?
Ted shrugged stiffly. "I don't know. I've always had my best friend. I've never been alone, not really." He growled, "Damn it! Why didn't the son of a bitch tell me!?"
"For what it's worth, Vulcans are typically bonded with their mate at a young age, and then eventually they get married and consummate. Every seven years, you must return home, to Vulcan, or to your mate. At this age, you're on your third heat, but you don't necessarily have to mate in order to get it over with. Is your friend here on the ship? Someone you trust to help you?"
He didn't need to think long at all.
It was you. It was always you. You were always there for him during these times, and somehow he knew without a doubt you always would be.
So, he did only logical thing.
=
After your very enlightening appointment in sick bay, learning the ins and outs of a part of Vulcan society you hadn't known before - more information that you could have lived without, honestly - but now you actually knew what Ted was going through from the medical side. Even before you entered, hot, boiling rage was beside slight satisfaction, then it faded.
You weren't scheduled today, not until 2000 hours, and you were dead tired. Shift after shift, and staying in another friend's cabin just to rest. That Risa holodeck program was calling your name. First, though, you had to go and confront Ted. Confront? Or comfort? What would you even say? "Hi, Ted, I know you're in a heat that could literally kill you if you don't go home and mate; I'm willing to help how I can? Were you willing to do whatever it took to make him feel better?
Yes. God, yes.
You go to your cabin, but he wasn't there. Ted definitely wasn't at work, not in this condition.
"Computer, locate Ensign Theodore Logan."
=
The doors to Holodeck four opened with a soft whoosh. Yet, instead of the ambient noises of distant jamahoran and gentle music by the poolside, there was hot scalding wind and Black Sabbath's "Sabbath Bloody Sabbath" blasting in your ears from somewhere in the room. The room was a large, luxurious bed, with what seemed to be several layers of velvet sheets and plush satin comforters, a food replicator a few steps away, surrounded by walls of glass, showing off the majesty of the coral-red, sprawling mountain ranges of the Vulcan desert. It was gorgeous - absolutely breathtaking! But where was Ted? he was here, you were sure of it.
"Ted?" You called out, stepping carefully into the room. Your shoes echoed off of the pristine, blood red floors, "Ted, I...I know what's wrong with you. I can help any way you need."
Ted appeared from behind you, that hot wind from earlier now more powerful than ever - a blinding fever of hormones you never thought possible! He wasn't wearing his uniform, and your head was level his breast area, maybe his collarbone if you got on your tippy-toes. He had a light dusting of dark curls, trailing from his collarbone to his navel. The air in the room was sucked out. In an instant, your heart was beating at warp 10. All that mattered was Ted. Oh, Ted! Sweet, kindly Ted...
He approached you, careful and strained -like a spring ready to unlock - and reached out, holding your head in his hands before he built up the will to speak.
"Please...I need you." He growled lowly. "It won't...stop! It won't stop unless I..."
"I know." You whispered. You tilted your head slightly, holding the back of his, carding through the soft, feathery locks - like silk between your fingers. He leaned in, touching your forehead with his.
"I know..."
You bought your free hand over his. His breath hitched as you traced the tendons straining under his boiling skin. He let go of your chin like it was an open flame, and you took the opportunity to hold his hand and clasp it tightly.
I'm here, Ted. I need you; I need you so much. I know. I don't know how to do this; I'm scared. You're okay.
Parted from me and never parted
Parted from me and never parted.
You're seven, playing on the monkey bars of your elementary school, definitely hogging them because you're the only one not very scared to fall 3 or four feet. Just bend your knees and you're good. There's a Vulcan kid all by himself, his usual friend is gone. He was always very odd, but friendly enough - if a little scared of the bars, so you teach him how to properly bend his knees so falling hurts less.You introduced yourselves, and played with them again the next day, meeting Bill, and joining their troupe of weird for good.
Never and always touching and touched… always, touching and touched
You're fifteen, and your dad was never an easy person to get along with. That's why your mother left, and you don't blame her a bit. He was simply an inherently irrational and illogical person. Nothing and nobody was going to change that. So, you took the punches and made sure to be extra quiet as you sneaked out through your bedroom to hang out with Bill. You're supposed to be grounded, but every day with him was a punishment itself, so why not let yourself have another jam session with Wyld Stallyns? It's going to be the first Vulcan-Human band this side of the Gamma Quadrant! Every second counted! She called out your name from the front yard and ran up to help you out, pulling your arms and barely clearing your hands. Besides offering to babysit the tech and lug it around old-fashioned-like, it just feels right to have her around and be close to her.
Parted from me and never parted…never parted..
"Ted…" You whispered. He whispered. You. Both of you. Two hearts in-sync.
You needed her. You wanted her so bad. You needed to have her. You will have her if she wants it or not. It had to end.
You needed him. Need him. Need to help him! Love Ted so much…Save him!
Never and always touching and touched
Parted from me and never parted
He grabbed your head, gripping it carefully yet firmly, like it was a large fruit he could crush very. Your lips crashed together. He hiked you up to eye-level and you wrapped your legs around his hips. How strong he was! Lean and thin, but no weakling! His lips were so warm! As one of you slipped your tongue in the other's mouth, his growling grew deeper.
He was going to eat you alive.
Suddenly, you two crashed onto the bed and sunk into the rich velvet and satin sheets. Ted tore at your uniform, the strong cotton and wool coming off like papier mache between his hands.
The air was just as hot and stuffy without your clothes and seemed to get even hotter as he stripped himself as well; as quickly as he could while grinding your pelvis to dust with his aching erection.
Focus on now, nothing else. Nothing else matters but you.
Your self-preservative instincts made you grip his shoulders, a feeble attempt at barring him. All at once you felt your muscle relax, your brain disconnecting from its stem and floating in its juices. Just like Everything is fine. It feels so good…Just relax for me. You released his shoulder, your hands drifting down his bare back to push him down harder. His pants were extremely tight, so tight you could feel his dick at full-mast, angry and tinted a mottled green, leaking pre-cum like a 7-inch broken faucet. Which then had to fit in your swollen but lubricated canal of flesh and tissue. Oh, he was ready.
Ted, Ted..Teddy…Oh, Teddy!
A scream of pain bellowed as he penetrated your heat, this time definitely from you. Hot, rod-like muscle into an equally-hot and throbbing, constricting passage that squeezed upon entry. Even under his hypnosis, it was deeply painful, like a phaser had been shot between your legs. Tight, straining the walls of your cunt as he pushed himself in; you knew for a fact it wasn't much better on his end. The hormones still raged on. Ted growled and lowered himself, his arms on either side of you, trapping you in. Deep, brown eyes, warm as soil and the California forests drenched in sunlight, the best part of home, stared back you still. Now, they were darker, feral with lust and a primal need for release, one that only could be satisfied in blood.
All the while, a quiet, ghostly trickle of fear nudged your brain through the haze, though it wasn't yours. Ted nuzzled into your neck, groaning and wincing as he felt your lining squeezing You shifted, he shifted, each of your bodies getting used to this new sensation of filling and being filled respectively. The two of you were panting like you'd been running non-stop at the academy again for the physical fitness assessment, for that damn pacer test.
The muscles in your lower abdomen settled, and you finally got used to the welcome intrusion. He took the cue and pulled out a little bit before slamming forward again. And again, and again - hitting that delicious spot on your clitoris that made your nerves sing as the skin at the base of his cock brushed and rubbed against it with every thrust. The breathing, the moans fresh from the lowest region of your cores, not a single coherent thought could be born in your head. He sped up then. The bed shook with force. Moans grew louder, kisses hard and hungry. Your toes curled until a couple of knuckles popped, his teeth digging into your neck. Was that blood or just his spit? Was it just arousal fluid down there? It felt so good..so good…
"Ted! Ted! Oh!" He bit down on your shoulder, piercing the skin. Your back arched as you moaned, but he held you down. Your hands flew to his hair, tugging and pulling for purchase. "O-oh! Ted…Oh, Fuck!"
He whispered something next to your ear. The soundwaves were shaky and faint. But they were there. "Uck-uhm....Gon...gonna...Oh!"
Hot, fresh seed released inside of you, flooding your lower abdomen. Felt like warm, watered-down syrup being shot up inside of you.
"Fuck! Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!" Both of you cursed as Ted thrust his pelvis a few more times. He let out one last with a grunt of effort your cunt milking it for all it was worth as it greedily trapped him inside.
Once he was thoroughly emptied and utterly spent, he collapsed, clinging to you as the sweat on your bodies stuck you together. It was several minutes of catching your breaths. It was dreadfully hot, not even entertaining the Vulcan setting of the program. But high slowly but surely slithered its way out of your systems.
"Mm…" You blinked and rubbed your eyes. like you were coming out a heavy nap. Ted was wasted, a surprisingly heavy weight on top of you. His face was buried in the crook of your neck, stuck where he had just bitten you. "Teddy?" You pet his hair, feeling the damp roots that reeked of sweat. Ted shifted, his eyes fluttering against your skin. At first, you felt him smile and kiss your neck where it tickled, drunk on endorphins and the fever breaking. He looked at you, eyes low and his grin spreading wider, and his face grew more naturally toned, less sickly.
Then, as you looked at each other, his smile dropped and he paused the petting of your hair, retracting the hand like you were made of acid.
"I'm...sorry…" Like yours, his voice was barely there. He was flushed with a softer green tint, presumably as he realized what just occurred between the two of you.
You raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"I hurt you." He cleared his throat, but it was still quiet and raspy. Fuck, not the sad puppy eyes, and the slight whine in his tone. Damn him to hell. "Hurt…you."
"Aw, Teddy..." You were not stupid. You were definitely going to feel this for the next several days, for long after the feel-good chemicals and euphoria finally wore off. But goddamn it, he's not going to feel bad for things he couldn't control. "It's okay, Ted. I'm fine, really."
"No." He shook his head, quite insistently. "No, it's not okay. I...I made you. You didn't want to do this. You tried to...you tried to fight me off, and I-I forced you to relax and let me."
Oh god, no, Ted.
"Ted." You gripped his chin and brought his eyes to yours. "You didn't force me. I wanted to help you, in any way, to make you better. I wanted to do this because…" Your throat swelled, and it took a beat for you to swallow it. "I wanted to because I love you, and I want to be with you." You paused to let it get through to him, and the hand that was in his hair searched and held his gently. "If you want me, too. I want to be the one to get you through this Pon Farr and the next, and the next. I don't care if we're on different ships, different planets, or different star systems. I will be there for you, and I swear it on my life."
He blinked as you stopped talking, taking it in. Somewhere in your tired mind, you thought he might even reject you. It was so illogical, given your current circumstance. Here you two were, on top of each other in a deeply comfortably bed, just waking up from fucking your brains out like it was a life-saving blood-letting ritual. In a way, it was, and he chose you to relieve him, to be his mate. So how did you even entertain the concept?
"My mate?" He smiled, and kissed you hard on the lips, heavy and bruising, drowning you once again. It wouldn't be shocking to you if you walked out purple as a bowl of Plomik soup. Then he stopped. You frowned, confused. And then you felt harden again. He shifted hurriedly, squinched his eyes tight, as if in a panic to get rid of it.
"Oh no, it won't go down. Damn it." Ted sighed, his eyes wet in apology and pain.
You shrugged, "I have some leave built up. Worse comes to worst, I could always get a doctor's note."
"Are you sure, babe?"
"Of course, Teddy," You smiled and brought him back in for a kiss.
The two of you spent the evening going in and out of making love, snacking from the replicator, talking about how you were both absolutely going to be out of commission for a while after this, getting naps in. You hit the "making love" stage for the umpteenth time when the communicator badge from one of your long-discard uniforms chirped. It was Dr. Crusher asking you to acknowledge. You groaned, crawling languidly out of Ted's arms, the lack of his body heat making it cold on Vulcan.
"Ensign here."
"Hi, just doing a check-in, lieutenant. Are you doing alright with your roommate now?" You swear to God she was barely holding a smile, "Should I prepare a note for your commander that you won't be coming in?"
"Uh…" Shit, you forgot about your shift. "Yes, please, I think that would be best. I'm all out of sorts."
"Excellent. I'll send a note and let him know you won't be able to return for the next couple days, taking brief medical leave. After which, you'll attend an evaluation and see if you're ready to report for duty."
You blinked. That lady was smiling so hard in her voice you worried that the holodeck wasn't as soundproof as you'd been led to believe. Hell, she probably had one ready for Ted days ago. "Thank you, Doctor. That will be all."
if you're writing and find yourself thinking 'this is too weird/gross/offputting/esoteric/ambitious/catered to my specific interests + sure to push away a broader audience' that is the devil speaking and it is a lie. you are already firmly on the right path and you need to double down
Warnings: Brief non-sexual nudity, tooth-rotting fluff, demisexual reader and John Wick if you squint.
Word count: 1.9k
Summary: You are enamored with John's tattoos. One day you finally get the courage to ask him to let you color them in with your markers.
AO3 Link
A/N: Thank you to @royaldeadqueen for beta reading this fic 🖤
John Wick tattoo divider credits: @jjaksclayton 🖤
Markers divider made by me! 🌈 feel free to use as long as you give credit to @thatgingernerdgirl
I do not know the original creator of the gif but if anyone knows, please tell me and I will give proper credit!
John Wick was the best partner you've ever had or ever will. You can vividly recall how you met that drizzly autumn morning at your favorite local coffee shop. After you placed your order you realized, with embarrassingly bad timing, you left your wallet at your apartment. Right as you stepped out of the line and chastised yourself for your own stupidity, an arrestingly calm baritone came from behind you.
"I can pay for you."
His voice was like a warm hug, banishing all your anxieties with a simple phrase. When you turned to look up at him, you fought to keep from melting into the floor at the handsome man whose appearance matched the voice impeccably. Everything about him screamed sophistication: his widow's peak gave way to a crown of jet black hair falling neatly in layers right at his shoulders, his well-maintained facial hair was shaped to emphasize his high cheekbones and angular face. While he calmly watched you, you took in his beautiful eyes, a shade that reminded you of sunlight shining through a glass of expensive cognac. To top off his already good looks, he was dressed in an all-black suit with a black turtleneck. He could be a model, a professor, a spy, anything when he was so debonair even while performing commonplace activities like ordering coffee—or in this case, offering to pay for your coffee.
A flustered string of words leave your lips as a response. Thankfully, he spares you from any further awkwardness by paying and taking both his and your coffee to a table in a cozy corner away from nosy onlookers. That is when the conversations started, naturally you wanted to meet a second time, and a third, and a fourth.
Before long, the casual conversations transformed into long walks in the park with his dog accompanying you like a guard. Time dissolved in his presence like sugar cubes in a coffee cup. You laughed to yourself one evening when you noticed the muted gold sun had set beyond the imposing trees after you and John strolled the entire premises at least six times. He insisted he drive you home in his very nice car. His authoritative expression and tone brooked no argument. That alone made you weak-kneed, and his gentlemanly acts like opening the car door and helping you inside almost made you keel over, if not for him grounding you with a soothing squeeze of his hand to yours.
He walked you to your door, pausing to peer deeply into your eyes. The silent exchange spoke volumes; the two of you having a whole conversation with just a look:
"I want to see you again…"
"Could this be more?"
"What if…"
"Too soon?"
"Can I do this again?"
"Can we try?"
"I want to…"
That is one of the many things you loved about John Wick since the beginning. He was a man of few words but plenty of actions to speak even more for him.
Throwing your hesitancy to the wind, you stood on your toes, and he met you in the middle with the sweetest kiss anyone has ever shared with you. It was short but in that moment, you felt the future and all the possibilities it could entail. When you parted, you had to fight the urge to grab his lapels and crash your lips against his over and over again.
"I'll see you tomorrow." His lips brush against your temple before pressing another kiss there and walking down the gravel drive back to his car.
After that night, you agreed to make your relationship with John official, however you both decided to take things slow, due to his past marriage with Helen. Now, several months later, you've happily enjoyed this slow-living lifestyle with your new partner. John was so routine, even with the easiest of activities. After work, he'd pick you up and help with all your errands; every other day, you would take walks around the park, the town square, or your respective neighborhoods. On Fridays, he'd take you out to eat, from the fanciest restaurant to the little diner in the middle of nowhere with the best comfort food you could stomach. And from Friday night to Sunday, you would stay at his house. When you discovered his shared love of reading, you were over the moon; spending so many nights with him reading from his library, sitting on the couch together holding hands—only stopping when either of you had to turn a page in your book. He even let you borrow his hand-bound leather hardbacks for the week and return to him to discuss where you were in the story. He was your personal (older and hot) librarian. It was more than you ever thought you deserved.
One Friday evening, John's dog managed to escape his leash, sending you both on a wild chase around the park to capture him. Thankfully, with John's long limber legs, he was able to catch up to the pit bull and hold him long enough for you to put the leash back on him. The amusing detour left you and John sweaty and out of breath.
Arriving at his house again, you threw out the idea of showering with him. You hadn't crossed any major physical boundaries and you worried it might be too far too soon. To your delight, he liked your suggestion and followed you to the bathroom.
He undressed and stepped in first, adjusting the water's temperature to your liking while you were turned and getting to the same state of undress. He called for you once the shower was ready and you joined him. After closing the glass door, the sight before you took your breath and heart away.
John was standing under the shower head, the steady stream already soaking his hair and making it stick against his head and neck. But the feature that caught your attention, was the ink across his broad shoulders and down his mid-back. On one shoulder was a lifelike wolf head howling at the moon, on the other was a fearsome image that could have been both a snarling dog or skull decorated with flames. Between these two tattoos was a beautifully detailed cross with praying hands. And the crown over all of them was the Latin phrase "Fortis Fortuna Adiuvat" spanning the breadth of his back. In the time spent staring at the artwork, he raised his hands and ran them over his head and down his neck, revealing yet another tattoo of a simple cross on his deltoid. The body art coupled with his rippling muscles had you burning, and it was not from the spraying hot water.
The tattoos were all neat and black, no doubt placed by a master at their craft. They told a story you were not yet privy to but hoping to learn soon. Your fingers delicately trace the Latin across his body, feeling him briefly stiffen before relaxing against your light touch.
"Like what you see?" He asks, moving to face you.
"I do," you whisper. "This is beautiful."
He gives you space to use the shower head next. You could feel the heat of his gaze on you, as if a tattoo in the shape of his eyes was currently being formed on your own back.
After washing your body, you break the tension by jokingly asking. "Did you get them from being in a mafia of some kind?"
He laughs dryly. "If I was, I wouldn't tell you for your safety."
You leave it at that, finishing your shower and toweling off. You passed the rest of the night cuddled with him on the couch reading your next borrowed book.
The plan was brewing in your mind for the next week. Having John be your human coloring page was too good to let slip away. By the time Friday came around, you had your bag filled with all the coloring markers you had in your art stash. Once you got back to his home, you pulled them out and took a deep breath.
"John…" you didn't expect yourself to be so anxious over something as uncomplicated as asking to color on him.
"What's this for?" He asks, looking down at the multi-colored cylinders clutched tightly in your fingers.
"I know it sounds childish, but I loved looking at your tattoos and I couldn't help but think how fun it would be if I colored them in with my markers," the more you explained, the more your confidence was waning. This idea was stupid. Of course he wouldn't allow it—
"Do you want me lying down or remain standing?" His expression is unreadable but his eyes flicker with fondness.
Your mouth opens and closes in surprise. "Wait—you don't mind?"
"It's sweet," he places a reassuring hand on your arm. "And it would make you happy."
You shrieked with unfiltered joy as you threw your arms around him. He held you close to him like a treasure he never wished to part with.
Now he was lying on the couch on his stomach, shirt removed and tattoos exposed for you. You start on the flames of his growling beast tattoo, using an orange marker to bring out the fiery design. Then you took a gray marker around the beast, making it look more like his dog that was currently observing you work on John. Then you used the same gray color on the wolf art, being mindful where the tattoo artist already did so much shading on the lines. Brilliant yellow covered the moon behind the wolf.
Next, you picked out a red marker to accompany the orange and yellow in creating a sunset illusion among the rays surrounding the cross and praying hands. Looking at the hands, you chose to be cheeky and color each of the hand's fingernails a different color, giving them a rainbow manicure. But, on a sweeter note, you quickly doodled a wedding band on the hand with the yellow.
Following those tattoos, you bubbled in the Os, Rs, As, and D of the Latin phrase with alternating colors. It reminded you of doing the same thing on homework and tests in school when you got bored. Finishing the last A in adiuvat, you guided John on his side to outline his shoulder cross with yet another rainbow pattern.
As you continued, you thought about John and his life. You still didn't know much about his past at this point, but it seemed he was surrounded by this lingering darkness. You were determined to bring more color into his life. Maybe, just maybe, he wanted the same. Perhaps that was why he permitted you to use him as your canvas.
Completing his tattoos, you were compelled to add something—artwork drawn by your hand. Taking the pink and dark red markers, you drew a heart, right next to the lone wolf howling for its mate. Then you gracefully drew a daisy next to the flaming animal you now associate with his dog—a symbol of his two lost loves he will never forget. The flower and heart were nestled by his faded scars, tenderness coexisting with violence.
"All done." You say, pulling him off the couch and towards the bedroom mirror. Thankfully, you also packed a hand mirror for this activity.
"I like it. I should go get these filled in with your colors." He teased, holding the hand mirror and admiring the results.
"Don't do that!" You gasp in exaggerated offense. "I want to go back and color them again."
"Of course," he says with a soft smile before kissing your forehead. "Anything for you, darling."
A/N: While brainstorming this fic, I actually printed off a picture of John Wick's tattoos and colored them in myself! I highly recommend it and if you want to see the tattoo coloring page, let me know ❤
