And when John scoffed with humour, she tried again, “and not like, laid as in you have a one night stand. No — hear me out, John! You should invest in a sugar baby. You know, someone you can spend time with when you’re not doing the dirty work for everybody else. It’s fun, and frisky, and also means you can start spending some of the millions you have stashed somewhere not being used.”

Addy then smiled, “Maybe instead of retirement, what you really need is something to help you unwind.”

John scoffed, gulping back the bourbon. “I’m married.”

At that, she tossed her head back with a laugh and leant forward. “And since when are sugar babies a relationship status?”

That’s really all the thinking he had done on the subject of John — John fucking Wick — investing in a sugar baby.

He simply took it in stride, almost complimented by the assumption that he was attractive and rich enough to have someone leaning on him for money and sex, and stored it away for future thought when he was lost and drunk.

John never actually considered the possibility of “putting his bills to good use” until fucking Santino D’Antonio decided to light a bonfire inside his house.

Having lost virtually everything related to Helen, he found himself back at the Continental, back to listening to Addy sympathetically give her condolences and five seconds later, introducing him to Seeking Arrangements.

John doesn’t know why he’s doing this, staring at the laptop screen that smiles at him.

For circumstances, Addy had loaned him her laptop for the evening he spends at the Continental, and he’s too busy browsing the elaborately made profiles that he barely registers the fact that he is still wearing his suit.

He pulls at the cuffs of his blazer and is midway through taking it off when he stumbles across one profile that shamefully catches his eye.

“A sugar baby suggests that I sleep with them, and as I said,” John had mentioned back in the bar, “I’m married.”

Addy had grabbed his hands and groaned, “Look — you might surprise yourself. And, I’m not suggesting that you throw your wife away for somebody new. I’m just saying you need to…make use of yourself. Honestly, you’re too sexy to be stored away like this. Most sugar babies are dumb and unobservant, they won’t even know who you are.”

John is hesitant to browse this user's profile. If he wanted to “make use of himself” by investing all of his personal time into somebody who in truth wanted him for his dick and his bank balance, then it needed to be somebody at least near to his wavelength. Somebody who was smart, but clueless at the same time, and somebody who was the complete opposite of Helen.

The last thing he needed on top of a handful of a baby was the guilt of moving on.

But still, even when he pinned her tab and returned to scrolling through the profiles, John realised that most sugar babies were simply trolls hidden behind pretty pictures, or girls who wanted money for pleasure and not for need.

He went back to the profile. Three times. Three times, before he pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering a quiet, “Oh, fuck it,” and favoriting her account, and pressing to send a message.

Even online, John was never great with words. He typed, and backspaced, and typed again, trying to come up with something interesting to make up for the bland profile he made around thirty minutes ago.

From: johnw So. Do you like dogs?

If Addy were here, she would have slapped him.

Almost immediately after it sends, John lets out a frustrated noise and tears his gaze away from the screen.

Dating just wasn’t like how it was when he met Helen. Why did everything have to be so complicated, and mysterious, and why the hell does he even have to waste his money on somebody when he could be saving this money to eventually, whenever the day comes, retire?

John wrestles with the dilemma of deleting the whole account when a notification bell rings through the laptop speakers.

From: brooklynbaby yes, I love dogs!!! (typing) do you have a dog?

John breathes a sigh of relief.

From: johnw Yes. I do. From: brooklynbaby oh, great :) (typing)

John’s leg begins to bounce quickly, the table wavering with the glass on top, like an earthquake. Suddenly, brooklynbaby stops typing and John stills.

Why did she stop? Did he do something wrong?

From: brooklynbaby want to be my sugar daddy?

Never mind.

From: johnw I would. From: brooklynbaby cool

Neither him or brooklynbaby says anything for a few moments, and John doesn’t notice. After all, he is still a working man, busy with life and revenge and trying to stay alive for more than three seconds.

When he goes back to the laptop and sees no reply, he frowns.

From: johnw I'm sorry. I really don’t know what I’m doing. What am I supposed to say?

He makes a mental reminder to have words with Addy later.

From: brooklynbaby hahaha nw we could make dinner reservations and talk over terms if you’d like! i say reservations because they’re fancy and if anything goes wrong, we can pretend we’re… business partners? discussing business?

Without even really realising, John finds himself laughing shortly, settling back into the chair.

All of this feels weird, as in typing to a stranger he’s planning to spend his money on and occasionally fuck.

John quickly revisits her profile and spends four minutes analysing her profile picture. If this is her, then she’s really very beautiful. A steal.

From: johnw When are you free for dinner? From: brooklynbaby hmm well i’m dog sitting tomorrow, but i can be free for the day after is that okay? From: johnw That would be fine. [Address] at 7pm, does that work for you?

brooklynbaby pauses.

From: brooklynbaby am i gonna have to dress fancy? From: johnw Don’t feel pressured. I only own black. From: brooklynbaby well….guess i’ll bring out like one of my old party dresses you have to promise not to judge me

John laughs again.

At some point during the evening, he ends up with a planned dinner reservation at one of the most expensive restaurants in Brooklyn, and he’s also one grand poorer thanks to the generous donation in brooklynbaby’s bank account for a nice evening outfit.

When John returns the laptop to Addy the following morning, he was admittedly expecting the rant that followed.

She had glared at the laptop being handed back over the bar and refused to serve him until he came up with a reasonably valid excuse as to why he wasn’t putting himself out there for a bit of company. John had blinked with an unimpressed look and drummed his fingers.

“I have dinner reservations with someone tomorrow at 7pm. Also — can I have a drink?”

But of course, with work being as tedious as ever and with his whole day being completely ruined by a blood stained shirt and poor room service for the first time in his many years of frequenting the Continental, John didn’t amuse himself with brooklynbaby until he logged onto the site on his phone, and saw that she had messaged thrice during the day.

He almost felt guilty, until he saw a string of numbers at the end of the last message. He deemed it less necessary to read her above messages and instead went right to texting.

brooklynbaby ok so should i just ask for mr john wick when i get to this restaurant? sorry for so many texts im just kinda nervous johnw Yes. I booked under my name and I will be waiting for you when you arrive. Why are you nervous? brooklynbaby well just pre date nerves send a picture so i know you're real?

John sank into bed.

johnw Maybe I like the element of surprise. brooklynbaby seems unfair that you get to see me but i dont get to see you ive seen your dog before you johnw You could have used any photo. If we’re going to be technical, I don’t even know your name, or if that is really you.

John really hadn’t been expecting a full blown half-naked image at 4:15pm in the afternoon, but he will admit that it was nevertheless what he needed to break some steam.

He had arrived at the restaurant twenty minutes earlier than expected, but that’s okay, Mr Wick. Right this way!

Now that he was sitting here, at an empty table overlooking Brooklyn and the lights, with an already ordered bottle of wine, John could understand and relate to the first date nerves. He hadn’t felt this way in a long time. Not since —

brooklynbaby uhhh im kind of here like ten minutes early should i wait outside for you?

He laughs, mostly to himself.

johnw I’m already up here. I ordered a rosé, is that alright? brooklynbaby PERFECT

And, surprising himself also, John had clammed up and reached for his glass.

Thankfully, the owner of this restaurant knew John by face and order, because, after-all, this had been his go-to with Helen.

These days, he doesn’t have time to go out to new places and eat new things, and so had panicked, and picked a place with sentimental value, and a history of good food.

He gulped back his glass of bourbon and waited until the door at the other side of the room opened meekly, and he tried to appear vacant as the waiter led a woman across the room and towards him.

“Your date, Mr Wick.”

He left curtly and brooklynbaby followed his body as he left, her feet firmly glued to the floor as her head looked back over her shoulder.

John took this as an opportunity to look at her body, covered in a beautiful dress he felt proud of paying for.

Finally, brooklynbaby looked towards him and paused, observing him and his clearly surprising appearance.

John then remembered the gash on his cheekbone and the way he probably looked very off-putting with an unshaven face and long hair, but brooklynbaby smiled softly and raised her brows, beating him to helping her in her chair as she quickly sat down and looked at his glass.

“How did you know I liked beards?”

John didn’t say anything for a moment. “I didn’t.”

brooklynbaby rolled her eyes with a grin. “Of course you didn’t.”

She looked up, then, properly taking in his face. John did the same, looking at every feature present and coming to the quick conclusion that yes, she was definitely the woman in the pictures, and yes, she was one of the most gorgeous humans he had ever seen on planet Earth since Helen herself.

“You’re not what I expected,” she said honestly. “But, more than my expectations, if that makes sense. I didn't really introduce myself — I’m Y/N. Y/N L/N.”

“John,” he replied and she sniggered and rested her chin in her palms.

“You’re seriously so handsome, I find it hard to believe you haven’t been snatched up online yet,” she complimented. “Are you sure you’re not married, or something?”

Her gaze panned to his hands where she noticed the wedding band, and for a moment, she hesitated. John wasn’t ashamed of the ring, nor embarrassed to be seen wearing it.

He toyed with it on his finger, looking at her from across the table. “It’s complicated.”

Y/N nodded meekly. “I see.” She cleared her throat, “divorce? Planned divorce? Affair?”

“No, I’m widowed,” he tried out a joke, but she only looked more uncomfortable.

Her mouth gaped and she fumbled for words.

“Oh, John, I’m really sorry — no, really, I’m so sorry,” she stumbled, and John watched her carefully across the table. “God, how fucking insensitive. Sorry, I guess that just — wow, that never really crossed my mind. That's horrible, I’m sorry.”

“It’s in the past,” John said, finding finality in that sentence. “I’m trying to move on from it.”

Y/N nodded sympathetically. “No, yeah, wow, I get it. Completely. I…hope I live up to great expectations, then?”

At first, you found John’s behavior endearing, a testament to his unwavering dedication to keeping you safe. But as time wore on, his constant vigilance began to chafe, leaving you feeling suffocated by his overbearing presence.

"I'm just going for a walk, John," you protested, attempting to slip past him as he stood guard by the hotel entrance.

His grip tightened on your arm, his eyes flashing with undisguised worry. "I can't let you out of my sight, not with him out there," he insisted, his tone firm and resolute.

Frustration bubbled up inside you as you shook off his hold, refusing to be caged like some delicate bird.

"I'm not a child, John. I can take care of myself," you snapped, storming towards the door, before the brooding man stopped you and held his position in front of the door.

“I said no.”

His voice was cold, you were getting on his nerves. Paranoid or not, he couldn’t let you go outside.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, my patience has already been thrown out the window.” He glared at you, you could tell he wasn’t joking, but you just can’t help but to talk back.

“You’re such a brute. You can’t keep me here fore—“ You widened your eyes, feeling a hand read gently on your mouth. Fluttering your eyelashes to John’s gaze, your face flushed, your eyebrows narrowing.

“Stop being a brat.” He murmured, his words slipping smoothly through his lips.

Before you knew it, his body already pressed against yours firmly, his weight leaning you against the flat surface of the wall, secluded in your room.

“I’m just looking out for you, is that so hard to understand?”

As John pressed you against the decorative wallpaper, his firm grip sending shivers down your spine, you couldn't help but feel a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. His proximity ignited a fire within you, stirring desires that had long lain dormant.

With a defiant smirk, you met his intense gaze head-on, the heat of his breath mingling with yours as you leaned in closer, the tension crackling between you like electricity.

"You're not my keeper, John," you countered, your voice laced with equal parts defiance and desire. "I can take care of myself."

But before you could utter another word, John's lips crashed against yours, his kiss fierce and demanding, leaving you breathless and dizzy with longing. His hands roamed your body with a possessive urgency, igniting a fierce hunger deep within your core.

“Do you understand what no means?” He leaned back, scoffing at your flushed state. Now turning your body around to face him, his eyes trailed your body top to bottom, your heart pacing, knowing what was next.

With a gasp, you melted into him, your resistance crumbling beneath the weight of his passion. Every touch, every caress sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, building to a fever pitch that threatened to consume you whole.

It didn’t take long until you felt his hands start to trail up your silk dress, his hand could be seen rubbing along your thighs through the thin fabric. Each whimper you gave was met with a smirk from John, only fueling his ego.

“Seems like this brat is already so wet for me. Is this what you wanted? To push my buttons to end up like this?”

Your breath hitched as John’s hands explored the curves of your body, sending sparks of pleasure coursing through you with every teasing touch. His words, though laced with arrogance, only served to stoke the flames of your desire, igniting a primal need that begged to be sated.

With a low whimper, you arched into his touch, unable to deny the intoxicating effect he had on you. “N-No I didn’t mean to I…,” you murmured, your voice dripping with seduction as you trailed your fingers along the contours of his chest.

The tension between you crackled with raw intensity, each touch, each whispered word fueling the inferno of passion that raged between you. Lost in the heat of the moment, his fingers eventually met contact with your wet folds, a moan slipping past your lips.

“J-John..” you croaked, squinting.

“I told you there would be punishments for your behavior.” You couldn’t even reply back in time when he had slipped a finger inside your wet hole, gasping into the air. A few pumps from his digits already made you a moaning mess.

Your words caught in your throat as John’s touch sent waves of pleasure crashing over you, rendering you speechless as ecstasy washed over you in dizzying waves. His fingers, skilled and knowing, delved deeper into your core, igniting a firestorm of desire that threatened to consume you whole.

Every pump, every stroke sent you spiraling closer to the edge, your moans echoing in the air as you surrendered yourself to the overwhelming pleasure that John bestowed upon you. His touch was like a drug, intoxicating and addictive, leaving you craving more with each passing moment.

He smirked, eventually pulling his fingers away to bring to his mouth, tasting you. You widened your eyes, wondering why he stopped as jaw hung open, your poor cunt soaked and wanting more.

John’s smirk only deepened as he savored the taste of your arousal on his fingers, his gaze locked with yours as he drank in your reaction with undisguised satisfaction. Your widened eyes and parted lips spoke volumes, your confusion and desire swirling together in a heady mix that only fueled his own arousal.

“Such a sweet little thing,” he murmured, his voice dripping with sinful promise as he leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. “You want more, don’t you?” He laughed wickedly. This was your punishment. He wasn’t going to continue, he was going to make you wait for it.

He scoffed, leaving you breathless and aching for more as he reveled in the power he held over you. Your body throbbed with need, every nerve on edge as you craved his touch like a drug.

“Clean yourself up, darling,” he said casually, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just transpired between you.

Confusion and frustration warred within you as you struggled to make sense of his abrupt change in demeanor. Had it all been a game to him? A cruel joke at your expense?

With trembling hands, you gathered your wits about you, forcing yourself to stand on shaky legs as you attempted to compose yourself. But the memory of his touch lingered like a fever dream, leaving you reeling in its wake.

Now stepping out of the steaming shower, you sighed to yourself, thinking back to John’s advances just an hour ago. You should’ve known he had a trick up his sleeve just to toy with you.

Before you could dwell on the thought any longer, your phone rang, startling you out of your reverie. Glancing at the caller ID, you frowned in confusion at the unfamiliar number. Hesitantly, you answered, bringing the phone to your ear.

"Bonjour, ma chérie," a smooth voice purred from the other end, sending a chill down your spine.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything." Recognition dawned on you as you realized who was calling. "Marquis," you greeted evenly, masking the tremor in your voice. “How did you find my number…”

"Ah, I know a guy," he replied, his voice dripping with honeyed charm. "Tell me, have you been enjoying my little gifts?"

Your heart pounded in your chest as you struggled to maintain your composure. "I appreciate the gesture," you replied tersely, forcing a note of indifference into your tone.

Deep down, you weren’t scared or threatened that the man called you, in fact, you welcomed it. Perhaps you could use this as payback for John?

The Marquis's laughter echoed in your ears, he had noticed your tone of voice . "Oh, ma chérie, you wound me," he purred. "But tell me, have you left Paris? I haven’t seen you anywhere…”

Yeah, thanks to John. You thought in your head.

“I simply admire beautiful things, and you, my dear, are the most exquisite masterpiece of them all. A shame I haven’t seen you since the auction.

Despite the danger and warning bells ringing in your mind, a rebellious spark ignited within you at the Marquis’s words. You couldn’t deny the thrill that coursed through you at the thought of defying John, of embracing the danger that lurked just beyond the shadows.

As the Marquis’s laughter echoed in your ears, you felt a surge of defiance welling up inside you.

“I’m still here, Marquis,” you replied, your voice laced with a hint of mischief. “And I must say, your absence hasn’t gone unnoticed either.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, followed by a low chuckle that sent a shiver down your spine. “Ah, so you’re still playing games, ma chérie,” he murmured, his voice tinged with amusement. “I must say, I do admire your spirit.”

The Marquis’s laughter filled the air once more, a sound that sent a thrill of anticipation racing through your veins. “Well then, my dear,” he purred. “Let’s see just how far that taste for danger will take you.”

the end ! part 3 in progress…

You find yourself here not out of choice, but out of dire necessity, your financial woes pressing upon you like a weighty burden. Volunteering as a blood donor is your ticket to survival, a means to secure the funds desperately needed to support your ailing mother and keep a roof over your head.

You needed the money, your mother's illness draining your savings faster than you could replenish them, while the relentless march of automation threatened your livelihood in the retail sector.

With each passing day, the gap between what you earned and what you needed widened, leaving you with little recourse but to turn to unconventional means to make ends meet.

A giant in the industry, Wick Industries looms large in the landscape of scientific research, its reputation as a leader in biomedical advancements drawing both admiration and scrutiny.

When news broke of their call for volunteers to participate in cutting-edge experiments aimed at extending human youth, you saw it as an opportunity—a chance to alleviate your financial woes while contributing to the greater good. Little did you know the true cost of admission into this world of scientific ambition and moral ambiguity.

Entering the facility, you're greeted by the sight of a bustling lobby, volunteers milling about in varying states of anticipation and apprehension.

The air is charged with nervous energy, a palpable undercurrent of uncertainty running through the crowd as each individual grapples with their own reasons for being there.

At the registration desk, you join the queue, your heart pounding in your chest as you inch closer to the counter.

The old woman behind the desk is brisk and efficient, her voice a steady rhythm in the cacophony of voices around you.

“Next,” she called out, an old woman behind the counter waved her hand, urging you to move forward.

“ID?” She spoke. Your hands making their way into your little pink hand bag as they shuffled to take out your wallet, waiting for the nod of approval before tucking your things back into your purse.

“Third door down the hallway to the left,” she directed.

Guided by her directions, you navigate through the maze-like corridors of the facility, the sterile environment and the click of your heels against the polished floors adding to the surreal atmosphere.

The waiting room is a sea of faces, each one bearing the weight of their own struggles and uncertainties, their eyes betraying a mixture of hope and trepidation.

As you take your seat among the other volunteers, you can't help but feel a sense of camaraderie tinged with unease. The steady stream of departures catches your attention, prompting a question to the person beside you.

“Why are people leaving?” You ask.

Their answer, though matter-of-fact, does little to assuage your growing apprehension.

“I hear the doctors are looking for a specific blood type within the volunteers,” the man next to you replied, his eyes going back to the bright screen of the phone he held.

Amidst the ebb and flow of volunteers, two figures emerge, their presence commanding attention as they make their way down the line of chairs. The older man's piercing gaze sends a shiver down your spine, while his companion's whispered exchange only serves to heighten your sense of foreboding.

When they finally reach you, the weight of their scrutiny feels suffocating.

The bearded man leans in to murmur something inaudible into his assistants ear, the man’s eyes flicker in your direction.

“Her,” he whispers slightly, their eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary.

As their stares bore into yours, the man’s assistant gestures for you to stand, and you comply, feeling a mixture of curiosity and trepidation. With a barely perceptible nod from the older man, they lead you away from the crowd, down a series of sterile corridors lined with gleaming metal doors.

Down the labyrinthine corridors you go, each step bringing you closer to the unknown. The air grows colder, the atmosphere thick with anticipation and trepidation. What awaits you behind those imposing doors remains a mystery, one that gnaws at the edges of your consciousness with relentless persistence.

Finally, you come to a stop before a nondescript door, its surface devoid of any indication of what lies beyond. With a silent exchange, the older man and his assistant confer, their words lost to you in the deafening silence of the corridor.

As the door slides open, revealing a sterile room bathed in harsh fluorescent light, you steel yourself for what comes next.

Alone in the room with these enigmatic figures, you can't help but feel a sense of trepidation. Their welcoming smiles offer little comfort, their words ringing hollow against the backdrop of uncertainty that looms over you like a dark cloud.

"Welcome," the man with the clipboard begins, his voice a mere whisper in the vast emptiness of the room. "My name is Dr. David. Thank you for volunteering,”

As the assistant quietly slips out of the room, leaving you alone with Dr. John Wick, a sense of unease settles over you like a heavy blanket. Yet, in his presence, there's a strange calmness that washes over you, his reassuring smile and soothing voice momentarily easing the knots of tension in your stomach.

"Please, have a seat," he gestures towards a chair, his tone gentle yet authoritative. You comply, sinking into the plush cushion as he takes a seat across from you, his piercing gaze never leaving yours.

"Let me assure you, you're in good hands here," he begins, his voice smooth as silk. "Wick Industries is at the forefront of groundbreaking research, and your participation in our experiments is invaluable."

Despite his words, a nagging feeling of apprehension lingers at the back of your mind, a whisper of doubt that refuses to be silenced. Yet, you push it aside, clinging to the hope that perhaps this is just the opportunity you've been waiting for.

“I’m Dr. Wick—but please, call me John,” He gives you a charming grin once more, reaching out his hand for you to shake.

As he continues to speak, his words seem to fade into the background, your focus shifting to the way the harsh fluorescent light casts shadows across his angular features.

“Tell me about yourself,” he speaks up once more, trying to strike a conversation with his patient.

There's something magnetic about him, something that draws you in despite your better judgment.

“There’s not really much to me,” you chuckle softly, a pink shade flushing against your cheeks.

“I work in retail—heard of the small cafe Allure? Im a barista,” you say bluntly, as if you were having a normal conversation with your friend.

“Ah really?” John turns to you, his brown eyes boring into yours. “I’ll have to try it sometime, I’ve never been,” he revealed.

Your conversation starts to become more intimate, sort of like you’re speaking to a therapist.

"You're special, you know," he murmurs, his voice low and intimate. "There's something about you that sets you apart from the others."

A flush creeps up your neck at his words, a warmth spreading through you that has nothing to do with the temperature of the room. His proximity is intoxicating, his presence commanding yet strangely comforting.

“People don’t usually say that about me,” you scoff, rolling your eyes, yet you felt cared for, embracing the feeling of praise.

“A shame for such a pretty girl like you,” He jokes, rubbing his chin with his fingers.

You find yourself hanging onto his every word, his charisma and intelligence captivating you in a way you never expected.

As he shares stories of his past achievements and future aspirations, you can't help but feel a sense of admiration for the man before you.

But beneath the surface, there's a tension that simmers, a palpable electricity that crackles in the air between you. You can sense the shift in his demeanor, the subtle change in the way he looks at you, as if seeing you for the first time.

As the conversation lulls, he rises from his seat, his movements fluid and purposeful. With a slight smile, he disappears into the adjacent room, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Minutes pass, the silence broken only by the soft hum of machinery in the distance. And then, he reappears, a small vial in his hand.

"I've prepared something to help ease the discomfort during the blood extraction process," he explains, his tone reassuring. "It's a simple elixir, but it should make the experience more bearable."

You nod, accepting the vial with a mixture of gratitude and apprehension. As you raise it to your lips, you can't help but wonder what exactly is in the concoction he's given you.

But the pain of the extraction process looms large in your mind, overshadowing any doubts or reservations you may have.

With a deep breath, you swallow the elixir in one swift motion, its taste bitter and metallic against your tongue. And then, as the liquid courses through your veins, a wave of dizziness washes over you, your vision blurring at the edges.

You reach out for support, but John is already there, his strong arms catching you before you hit the ground.

Your head throbs, the sensation reverberating through your ears as you grimace in pain, your face contorted in a grimace as you watch the overhead lights flicker rapidly.

Panic surges within you, your heart racing as you realize your arms are restrained above your head, the cold metal of the cuffs biting into your skin. Your feet barely brush against the worn tiles below.

"What the hell?!" you exclaim, your voice trembling with fear. Memories elude you, leaving you disoriented and bewildered.

Surveying your surroundings, you find yourself in a stark white room, its pristine walls offering no solace. A single door stands in the corner, ominous in its silence as you hang suspended in the center, the flickering lights casting eerie shadows across the sterile space.

Suddenly, the door creaks open, revealing Dr. John Wick as he steps into the room. Clad in gloves and his white coat, he exudes an unsettling air of authority as a wave of realization washes over you.

"What's happening?!" you demand, your voice trembling with uncertainty as fear grips you tightly.

"Hush now," John soothes, his voice calm and measured as he approaches you.

Despite your frantic struggles against the chains, he moves closer, his hand deftly manipulating a remote control in his grasp. With a click, the chains lower, the sound of metal clanking echoing in the sterile room as your body descends.

“I didn’t lie about how you were special,” he smiles creepily, now eye level with the man as he lifts your chin slightly.

“We just need to text you for some experiments, nothing too big,” he added, hot tears already brimming your waterline.

“P-Please get me out this isn’t what I signed up for—“ You whined, your wrists still trying to undo the chains that bound them together.

“I’m sorry but I cannot do that. You’ll be my little test bunny for today, is that alright with you, love?” He chuckled softly.

You shriek, tears already streaming down your cheeks as John’s fingers stroke against your jawline.

“You wouldn’t want to let your poor mother die now, would you?” He whispered, leaning into your ears as you grit your teeth, jaw clenching.

“Your mother has been transferred to a better hospital—under my industry. Resist and you die, let me use you this once and I’ll ensure your mother’s safety,” he’d add.

Before you are able to say anything, he grabs a handkerchief from his pocket, wrapping it around your head.

Your body stops shaking, your mother was at risk and you were unable to do anything.

He first took a knife from the steel cart that was placed against the wall across from where you were, his movements precise as you felt your clothing slither from your body, down your legs and eventually onto the ground.

Unable to resist, you stood there, crying, your makeup making marks on your cheeks as you shuddered from the embarrassment you felt as you were exposed to the older man.

“So young, so beautiful,” his voice tantalizing as he admired your curves, his hands starting to graze against your skin, the goosebumps visible from your fear.

“Don’t be afraid, it’s only procedures,” he teased, before pushing the button on his remote once more, your body lowering down as you gazed up at the man like a dog.

His fingers made their way under your chin, lifting them up slightly before he slowly undid the handkerchief.

“Please don’t scream, you’ll only make it harder for yourself,” he rambled, his lips now pressing against yours as you moaned in both surprise and disgust.

His tongue swirled with yours, the both fighting for dominance as he held your jaw in one hand, the other one starting to undo his pants.

John’s eyes glinted with a cold detachment as he advanced towards you, his movements deliberate and predatory.

“I promise, you’ll like it,” he drawled, his voice dripping with arrogance as he surveyed your trembling form.

You tried to protest, but the words caught in your throat as he pinned you against the wall, his hands rough and possessive as they roamed over your body.

“Don’t fight it,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your earlobe as he leaned in close.

“Resistance is futile.”

You could feel the heat of his breath against your skin, sending shivers down your spine despite the fear that gripped your soul.

“Please,” you whispered, but the desperation in your voice only seemed to amuse him.

With a smirk, he silenced you with a bruising kiss, his lips crushing yours with a ruthless intensity that left you gasping for air.

And as he claimed you as his own, you found yourself surrendering to him completely, your body a playground for his darkest desires. Each touch sent shockwaves of pleasure and pain coursing through your veins, your cunt throbbing with a mixture of agony and ecstasy.

But amidst the chaos, there was something else - a twisted kind of love that dared not speak its name.

“You like that, don’t you?” he taunted, his voice dripping with malice as he watched you squirm beneath him.

You moaned in response, unable to deny the twisted pleasure that his touch ignited within you.

With a guttural grunt, John released his load deep inside your cunt, his cock throbbing with the force of his climax. Your walls clenched around him, milking every last drop of pleasure from his pulsating shaft as he claimed you as his own.

“Take it, you filthy whore,” he spat, his voice dripping with disdain as he buried himself inside you.

“You like being used, don’t you?”

You moaned in response, unable to deny the twisted pleasure that his rough treatment ignited within you.

Each thrust was a reminder of your submission, a testament to the depths of your depravity.

As he reached his peak, his grip on you tightened, leaving bruises in his wake as he marked you as his property.

“There we go little bunny,” he sneered, his words a cruel echo of the pleasure that coursed through your veins.

And as he finally pulled away, leaving you empty and spent, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction. In his arms, there was no room for love or tenderness, only the raw, unbridled passion of two souls consumed by darkness.

Yet, here you were.

Thwack.

A bright green ball shot off into the darkness, turning oblong for a moment when it rebounded.

You adjusted your wrist, sent another one off. Watching the motion of your feet more than the motion of your racket was screwing with your grip, but you were more concerned by your still-healing knee.

“Hey.”

You whirled around, heart beat on the high line, the sudden motion straining your knee and nearly bringing you down.

“Oh—I’m sorry!” The newcomer rushed to help you, resulting in you awkwardly clasping his forearm but successfully avoiding eating asphalt. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to startle you.”

Trying to restore your heart to something below cardiac arrest, you looked up at the stranger. He was tall, lean but not skinny, with the most magical brown eyes you’d ever met and thick, dark hair falling into his eyes. Already flashing his teeth in a wide smile, half-sheepish.

“You’re fine,” you said, waving him off, righting yourself and smoothing a hand down your leg until it met your weak knee. Squinting up at him in the bright lights of the tennis court. “You’re so fine! I’m just—thank you. I have a bad knee, that’s all, so when I turned, I must’ve put too much weight on it...”

You were still distractedly pressing down on your knee, even though it didn’t particularly hurt. Trying to find somewhere, anywhere, to look. Because you were feeling a heat in your cheeks that wasn’t from your solo tennis session.

“Hope I’m not interrupting. Nobody’s usually out here this late, it gets lonely. I was on a walk when I saw you over here.” He was grinning again. You heard it in his voice, deep, husky, but still quiet. Your eyes made contact with his shoes—he was wearing black motorcycle boots, laces lazily knotted, a vivid green stem caught and snarled in the mess.

Now you were smiling, staring at a brightly colored flower stuck in his shoe, and then you were staring at his well-fitting pants, and then you were taking in how his black t-shirt hung off his very nice shoulders...

Oops. You redirected your gaze at once, meeting his eyes.

“Wanted to say hi,” he said, not that he needed to explain anything. “Uh—my name’s Johnny.”

“Johnny,” you said, unable to stop the smile spreading on your face. Rocking back and forth on your heels, smiling at him smiling at you, squashing down some odd, warm feeling in your chest.

He cleared his throat and looked around the court. “D’you come here a lot?”

You nodded, folding your racket under your arm so you could cross your arms, warming your chilly fingers. “Yeah, sure do. Normally some friends and I—I mean, we just play doubles. No real score. Just for fun.”

“Just for fun,” he repeated. “Maybe I haven’t been coming around often enough.”

“Yeah,” you nodded enthusiastically, “you sure haven’t.”

Grinning. Wow, you loved that grin. You might do anything to see that grin again. You swallowed, mouth almost uncomfortably dry, and gestured with your head back at your bag. “Wanna play?”

💐

Jen looked gorgeous. Her baby bump fully present almost stealing the show while the happy couple took their vows.

Despite the joyous atmosphere you sat uncomfortably in the wedding venue, but hopefully hid it well. It was hard to forget consequences of your action, especially when facing the ex-wife, surrounded by her loves. You felt like an interloper, you shouldn’t be here. You were more surprised you hadn’t burst into flames in the pew.

Brad wasn’t here thank god. You hadn’t seen him since that night and thanks to your hiatus from work you wouldn’t be forced to.

“You may now kiss the bride,” the officiant announced proudly as the attendees erupted in cheers and applause. You joined in the pageantry as guilt continued to eat-away at you. Only a few more hours of this before you were free to go home a wallow in the shame of your mistakes.

💐

The short walk to the reception was magical. Behind the venue guests were led down a dirt path. White flower pillars wrapped in fairy lights highlighted the trail leading to a white massive outdoor tent.

The strong scent of flowers wafted out from the opening of the tent. The inside was just a gorgeous as the outside. Flowers draped the ceiling and walls while large center pieces overflowed with blush grapes and pale flowers.

The room boomed with music while the liquor flowed freely. You would be abstaining too scared to make another drunken mistake.

There were too many tables, finding your seat was becoming a challenge. The place cards written in golden calligraphy were beautiful, but hard to read off the stark white background. You squinted, leaning toward each card trying to make out the characters.

“Do you need any help?”

You felt the gentle touch on your shoulder before his soft words hit your ears. Keanu hid his chuckle from the sight of your startled face.

“Oh hi… I didn’t know you were coming. I didn’t see you during the ceremony.”

“I just got back, I tried getting a hold of you, but never got an answer.” He explained.

You frowned in confusion. You hadn’t had any messages from him. Your phone was working you were sure. Sarah and Zoe both had texted you just yesterday.

“Something must be wrong with my phone… I never-,“ You tried to explain as you dug out your phone and quickly scan through your messages. Nothing.

Not even older messages from him. Weird.

He stands beside you watching over your shoulder as you tried to figure this out. You search his name in your contacts and its there, but when you click on it your stunned to find out that he is blocked.

“I don’t know how this happened. I swear I didn’t.” You plead your innocence with wide eyes. The way he looked at you somehow you knew he believed you to your relief.

“No worries these phones are always doing something crazy, it might have to do with a software update.” He suggested. That had to be the case. You’d seen notifications to update before, but always ignored them so that might be why.

“Weird. Of all people. I would’ve preferred if it blocked my mom instead.” You joked.

“That’s a relief I thought you might be avoiding me.”

💐

Keanu led and you followed as he helped you find your seat. He was the only face you recognized and you hoped that his placement was close to your own.

“I think this is us.” He proclaimed picking up two placards holding them side by side. You could kiss Jen for this.

“So how are things at the office?” You enquired as he pulled out your seat.

“It’s been busy, but your absence has been felt. Do you miss it?”

“I'm actually thinking about quitting.” You confessed sheepishly.

“Really?" Surprise and confusion riddled his face. You felt bad, but it was a thought that had been plaguing you for a while. Things at Terrilum were overly messy and you weren’t sure how much worse it was going to get. You needed peace and stability and you were sure you wouldn’t find it there.

“Yeah I’ve just been there for so long and I think its time.” You squirmed a little in your seat. You avoided his looks of concern and focused on the happy people dancing on the dance floor. Your mood was coming down just thinking the of bizarre soap opera you found yourself in and you wished desperately to escape that.

“Well I’m sorry to see you go. If you need a reference I would be happy to help.” Keanu offered. He still looked a bit disappointed, but he wasn’t going to press it seemed. You were thankful for that.

“Thanks, I’ll most definitely take you up on that.”

“Um-mm well while I have you here..” Keanu started but hesitated. You felt the familiar bundle of nerves tightening you belly as you wait in anticipation.

“I hope you don’t mind, but since you were unable to read my messages before, I was wondering if I could ask you in person again.”

“Ask me what?” You asked on the edge of your seat.

“If you wouldn’t mind... I'd like to take you on a date? A real one this time.”

💐

You blinked dumbly at him. For how long you weren’t sure. The question had caught you off guard.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable…Umm I’m sorry I just thought.” He hurried to apologize, but you were quick to stop him.

“Wait! Wait!” You blurted out excitedly, holding your hands up haltingly. “Sorry,” you began lowering your hands and your voice in an attempt to sound more demur. “I’m mean I would love to.”

“That’s a relief.” He said with a grin, clearly entertained by your theatrics. “I’m ashamed to admit I’ve had a bit of a crush on you for a while, but never really had the courage to speak up.”

“Really?”

The news was unbelievable. It felt like you were in a dream that you didn’t want to wake up from.

The joy was short lived though. Your smile faded slowly when you spot a dark cloud in the horizon. The sight of him melts away the new found happiness and slamed you back down to the cold reality.

Brad. You thought he wasn’t coming. You hadn’t seen him during the ceremony either. Keanu followed your line of sight to find his friend and business partner.

Brad hadn’t spotted you both yet, that was good at least. Too busy congratulating the happy couple. Keanu waved over his buddy to your horror. An overwhelming urge to escape on coming doom enveloped your body. You needed to get out of here and fast.

“Um. Sorry… I just realized it’s getting late.” You lied, fumbling through your bag blindly, desperate to find your phone. You needed to order a hire car and get out of here.

“They haven’t cut the cake yet. Stay for a bit and I’ll take you home.” Keanu offered as he turned his attention back to you. Warmth bloomed on your exposed leg when he touched you there. His touch was comforting and you wanted to soak in it.

He was sweet, but you couldn’t take the chance of facing them both.

You smiled tightly disguising your discomfort the best you can. By the look on his face you could tell he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

You sneak a glance in Brad’s direction. He seemed to be getting closer. Damn it. You felt trapped and needed to escape.

“Um ok you’re right, but um I’m gonna go to the ladies I’ll be right back.” You lied pointing a thumb in the direction of your escape. He didn’t get up when you shot to your feet. Keanu just nodded in understanding and you’re grateful when he wouldn't follow suit.

You didn’t look back. There were no bathrooms in the direction you were headed, only catering. The only restrooms were back at the main venue, and to go there you would have to pass by you know who.

Clumsily you slip through the catering door. The faint scent of cigarette smoke caught your nose and you followed it. If they are smoking then there is a back door somewhere.

The staff looked at you confused, but say nothing. Ignoring the stares you ordered the fastest option for hire car despite the price.

Damn it. The next ride was twenty minutes away.