hi, Iâve been super stressed lowkey could you make a fanfic about john wick x fem reader where heâs super sensual and give them a back massage đđ·
Absolutely! Iâve also been going through it lately so I feel you (process of moving combined with that mid summer sadness is getting to me lol). I hope you feel better soon and that life goes easier on you in the coming days đ đ
It started unseen. Biting the inside of your cheek, worrying the soft tissues there as your brow furrows in deep thought. Slowly coming out in ways you couldnât help, your lips bitten and chapped, your legs bouncing and unable to stay still. Stress was slowly starting to take over, and your will to keep going, keep pushing, getting every set goal done, taking on every set back in silence, was adding up.
It wasnât until tonight that you realize just how bad it had gotten. Youâre curled up on Johnâs couch, enjoying a Friday night together, the TV softly playing one of your favorite movies. You wouldnât really know however, the world blurring and becoming shapeless as your mind works overtime trying to figure out just how youâre going to make everything work. You hate that your habit of picking at your nails has returned, but you simply canât help yourself, there was something about that little pain, the control of uncontrollable urges, of picking out anything unsmooth, unsightly. You hardly notice that youâve got a hang nail between your teeth, ready to pull and feel that small piece of skin rip away, when you feel Johnâs warm hand on yours.
âWhatâs the matter, darling?â His deep voice is soft, tender, a hint of concern in his brown eyes when you finally meet them.
You let him gently lower your hand from your mouth to your lap, and his hand engulfs yours in a caring warmness. You freeze for a moment, not even sure where to start, not even sure how to explain just whatâs been going on with you since you been hiding it for so long. You know John would never judge you, but youâve never been one to let the hurt show, to admit how much youâve been struggling. You look into that kind, handsome face of his, at the soft crows feet starting to form at the corners of his eyes, and it just happens.
They stream out of you, and you hate yourself for crying, your face becoming hot. John softly coos, taking his strong arms around you and gently shifting you into his lap.
âItâs alright, baby, come hereâŠâ he whispers softly into your hair as he holds you in his lap, kissing the top of your head.
He does press. Doesnât pry for more information, just lets you cry into his arms, gently rocking in a small rhythm.
Your heart pours out, right there in his living room, and he doesnât mind one bit. He takes all of you in and gives back only his love and warmth, engulfing your stress and sadness in a blanket of it.
And it helps. It helps just to have him there for you, just to have him opening up space for you to empty yourself into him. And when the tears slow, and youâre only quiet sniffles, he whispers in your ear.
âLetâs go get you cleaned up.â
You nod, your sharp inhales slowing to just mildly shaky breaths, the weight on your chest feeling tender and softer. He slowly brings you up with him from the couch, easily carrying your weight, something that always surprised you was just how strong he really was, and that someone as powerful as him could be as gentle.
His feet pad to the bathroom, and he sets you on the counter by the sink, your feet dangling off. You cover your face, embarrassed by the tears and snot that have accumulated by your outburst, but he simply runs a towel under warm water from the tap, then moves your hand to wipe your face up. He carefully removes everything, most of your make up as well except for a small smudge of stubborn mascara and eyeliner. You look up at him, your fingers playing with one another in your lap and your face bare.
He leans down and kisses your forehead, and you lean into him. He holds you there for a moment, only leaving when youâre ready to let go, and putting his hands on your shoulders.
âTell me as much or as little as you desire,â he looks deeply into your eyes as he speaks. âIf you donât want to talk about it at all, thatâs okay. Just know that I am here for all your needs.â
And you know he means it. John has been nothing but the most devoted partner to you, taking careful of anything youâve ever brought to him. You nod softly, a shaky sigh as you decide just how much you want to get into it.
And he listens. Really listens. He doesnât offer advice, he doesnât interrupt, he just lets you speak, only ever giving soft affirming grunts to let you know heâs following. And when the tears start up again, he gently wipes them away and keeps on listening.
And when you finally trail off to silence, everything you need off your chest, he scoops you up again, pulling you to his chest and taking you to his bed.
He sits down with you in front of him, gently pulling your shirt over your head and sweeping your hair from your back. His warm, calloused hands touch your smooth skin, and you shiver from the feeling. His thumbs prop against your shoulders, creating controlled circles that target the tense muscles there, and you practically have to hold back a moan of relief.
It just feels so good. Those tightened muscles that have been holding up the world for so long being coaxed into tenderness, into letting go. You close your eyes and let John work his magic on you, his hands seeming to know every muscle back there and just how to tame them. By the end of it your head is bobbing, exhausted and having trouble keeping itself up as sleep and relaxation washes over you. John kisses a million kisses across your shoulder blades, and rocks you back until heâs laying flat with you on his chest.
He pulls the blanket up, making sure youâre totally cocooned with him before gently playing with your hair until your senses let go and drift into sleep.
The last thing you remember is his soft goodnight and I love you and feeling very, very lucky to be with a man like him.
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