#john constantine x you
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Absolutely fucking adore the idea of Constantine having a very talkative and energetic little human around that he calls “bunny” and treats you like one, treats you like a pet.
You really think that you’re Constantine’s sidekick because you follow him around everywhere he goes and you’re basically living in his apartment because you just – never – fucking – leave. No matter what Constantine does, no matter how mean he treats you, you just can’t bring yourself to hate him because he just might be the only light you have in your life – which is a weird thing to say considering Constantine probably possesses the most darkest mind in the world and you haven’t even seen half of it.
When he’s in a good mood, he’d treat you out for a dinner and actually conversates with you like a normal human being (even though nothing about him – or you – is normal) and tell demon and angel stories you’d always find yourself drawn into, chin on your palm, wide doe eyes while listening to his deep voice talk.
Most of the time you’d get very excited about something and very eager to learn that you’re practically vibrating in your seat. It’s such a normal occurrence to Constantine that he knows how to deal with you when you’re in that state of mind.
“Wait so – if demons and angels exist, is there a possibility that vampires are also true? Are they real? Please, tell me they’re real – I mean, have you ever met one before, John? God, that would be so freaking cool. I always wanted to be a vampire –”
Constantine lets you talk. Even though he wouldn’t quite grasp the other words that you’re saying because he really feels like you’re rapping instead of talking. Not to mention the hand movements you’d do while you spew random little facts out of nowhere, or when you’d remember a memory from childhood that you’ll end up telling him; Constantine really does find you quite adorable.
And you’re a bit energetic too. Well, a bit wouldn’t really cover it. You’re full blown energetic who sometimes acts like you drank five cans of caffeine the moment you open your eyes, but Constantine knows all your energy is natural and comes from your heart.
You wouldn’t be able to sit down next to him at a diner without your hands fiddling with something or when you just really… couldn’t keep your mouth shut. It’s a hard thing to do, really.
Then there’s Constantine, who likes to take advantage of your behavior by saying something really perverted and inappropriate.
“Hey, bunny.”
“What?”
“Would my cock be enough to get you to stop talking?”
“Good one. But that would only make it a lot worse.”
“I know. I’ve heard it,” he’d snicker, then would press a kiss on your cheeks that would make you flutter and scoff in annoyance. He always smelled like cigarettes and something minty. “I’m joking, bun.”
“Yeah, it would be a joke if it wasn’t true,” you rolled your eyes. “You’ve witnessed my mouth doing a lot more work than usual when I’m sucking your dick.”
“Well, you should be proud of yourself, bun. Looks like your mouth got more talent other than talking.”
“Haha, very funny.”
His comments like that don’t really offend you or anything because you know he’s joking. You know he secretly loves your rambles despite being mean about it, because that’s just how he is.
But during sex, it’s a whole different story.
Constantine has a habit of making you cry on the bed by making your rambles even worse. He knows that you ramble when you’re either feeling flustered, nervous, or horny, and most of the time you get all those feelings at once when you’re in front of his cock, which means a sudden flip of the switch inside your brain just goes off and you start saying these deliciously filthy words that never fails to make Constantine hard.
“What’s that, little bun? I didn’t hear you,” Constantine smirked, voice teasing as his hand gripped the base of his thick cock, smearing the dripping tip all over your lips as you struggled to catch your breath after he fucked your throat. “Where did my little talkative bunny go, hm? Why is she not talking?”
“J–John–”
“Oh? What’s that? Is the little bunny speaking?” Constantine mocked, pulled his dick away from your mouth as he gripped your chin with one hand. “If my bunny wants my attention, that’s not the right name she should be addressing me, yeah? Already forgot our rules around here, bun? I let you get a taste of my cock and you’re already defying me?”
“No–no, no, d-daddy, that’s not–that’s not what I mean,” you sniffled, your eyes getting teary from your kneeling position as well as when you heard Constantine’s mocking voice above you. “Daddy, please–just want–just want your cock in my pussy again, p-please–”
“Oh, you do? Poor little bunny is so wet and horny now, hm? My little bunny is feeling so empty?”
“Y-yes, daddy, I–I feel so empty–”
“Look at you crying. You look so pathetic,” he grinned, grabbing you by the hair and throwing you on the bed. You were already naked, already covered in bruises from the makeout session earlier and the handprint on your ass was starting to become more evident and red as minutes went by. “Where does my bunny want daddy’s cock, huh? Where do you want it, bun, tell me.”
“I–In my–In my pussy, daddy, want it in my–my cunny–” you sniffled again, pawing at his shoulders as your tears were starting to blur your vision. “Daddy, please–please, I want you so bad–miss your cock so much, feel so empty and wet and I just wanna–”
“Shhh, bun, I know. I know what you want,” he petted your hair with one hand while his other was guiding his cock in your cunt, the fat tip circling teasingly on your already puffy pussy lips and not quite going in. “Wish I could record you like this and make you watch it after. Fucking show you how filthy you are while begging for my cock. All the dirty shit you say when you’re so desperate for me.”
You keened, nodding absentmindedly even though you didn’t understand a single word he said. Your mind was only focusing on the delicious feeling of his cock rubbing against your sloppy cunt.
“Yes–yes, please, daddy, d-do what you want–do want you want, I’m yours–bunny is all yours–”
“That’s right. That’s my little bunny, knowing her place and where she rightfully belongs,” Constantine grinned, and it was only then he slammed his cock all the way inside you, stretching your walls wide as you bite onto his shoulders to keep yourself from waking up the entire building. “I would choose this tight little pussy over entering the fucking gates of heaven.”
#john constantine#john constantine x reader#john constantine x you#john constantine x y/n#john constantine imagine#john constantine smut#john constantine fanfic#john constantine fanfiction#keanu reeves#keanu reeves x reader#keanu reeves x you#keanu reeves smut#keanu reeves imagine#my works#constantine
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The Girl Next Door ~ 2
A Constantine x Reader fic based on this imagine. Part 1
Summary: John Constantine has a crush on you. He wasn’t going to do anything about it though, until you strong arm him into coming over for dinner. Little do you know, this paints a target on your back for the local vampire coven…
Rating: Explicit, NSFW, but no dead doves...😮
Note: I got Constantine on my brain, y'all! 😆 I write about vampire hunters all the time, but never from the vampire perspective. This was new. I hope you enjoy!🧡
2. whoever drinks my blood has eternal life
In the end, he was too late.
Oh, he killed them all, wiping out the entire coven with his magical holy shotgun, and a handy spell that basically burned the remaining undead to a crisp around you.
But you were already half dead, drained and forced to drink their blood in kind.
You were well on your way to becoming one of the Damned.
John knew this, as he cradled your cold body in his arms, carrying you like a bride to the cab outside the warehouse. He knew it as he held you close in the backseat, reciting ancient prayers over your fevered brow, hoping just this once God might grant him a good miracle, and not forsake one of his children just because of an unlucky twist of fate.
Your only crime, as far as he knew, had been extending the mercy of your kindness towards him, and that should not have earned you this.
He barely thanked Chas for a job well done, carrying you bridal style up the stairs of your apartment building. Rather than return you to your bed, he brings you to his. He doesn’t know if the vampire who you must have inadvertently invited into your home died that night, and all his holy weapons are at hand in his own space.
He lays you down in his bed, wishing he’d washed his sheets more recently for you. He wishes a lot of things, in the interim hours that follow.
He can tell that his incantations are not touching the dark magic that is taking hold of you, and he knows that he should just put an end to it here and now. You are damned, and there’s no going back, and who knows what chaos you will reap with your new thirst when you wake?
He can’t bring himself to do it.
Looking down at you, huddled in a ball, trembling as your body is dying and remaking itself anew—he falls to his knees to talk to God, though his words aren’t exactly a prayer. “Our father, who art in heaven…fuck you. I hope you're happy, asshole. Another innocent who you should have protected, fucked over by your stupid games. Why? Why is it always the good ones? I hate you. Amen.”
He takes your hand in his, and only because you are practically unconscious in the fever-pitch of your transformation, does he let his eyes fill with silent tears.
One more soul he was too late to save.
One more weight upon his conscience.
He cries for you. For himself. For the impossible odds God and the Devil pit against humans, then punish them when they're just not up to the task. Flesh is weak, but They made you this way. None of it is fair.
Constantine has never actually been present at a Turning. He doesn’t know how long it will take, or how you’ll act when you come out of it. He has crosses and holy water to keep you in line if he has to…or maybe you’ll rip out his throat, and he will absolutely deserve it after what he let happen to you.
He wonders how the vampires knew about you. Did they watch through the window from some impossible perch, as you made love? Maybe he would never admit it out loud, but that was what that merciful night together had felt like, with you.
This was a hell of a reminder, as to why he couldn’t ever let anyone get close.
It never ended well.
Fully clothed, shoes and all, he spoons your smaller body with his arm around your waist, and waits.
***
When at last you wake, the first thing you are aware of is a heartbeat, right next to you. Behind you. Pressed against you. You hear it like a drum, thundering in your ears. There is a grinding pain in your belly. You are so hungry.
You do not recognize your surroundings, or the bed you lay in. A heavy arm is draped over your waist. You study the large hand upon the sheets, long fingered, veiny. Maybe you know that hand.
Slowly you turn, to find John Constantine beside you. He looks up at your through hooded dark eyes. He was dozing, but no longer.
“Y/n?”
You take a deep breath, and the smells that hit you: his aftershave, sweat, deodorant, dirty sheets, scotch whisky in the kitchen. Old Chinese food. But most of all, you can smell his blood, and it is the sweetest thing you’ve ever smelled.
You lean towards him, mouth open, hands reaching.
You don’t know that your incisors have lengthened to deadly little points.
Casually, John holds up a little crucifix between you. You feel it like a hand pressing back against you, and instinctively you flinch.
What is going on with you?
“John?”
You feel something long brush your lip, and you reach up to touch your teeth, finding the sharp points. Your eyes go half-dollar round as you nearly cut yourself with the tip of one.
“What happened to me?”
He sighs, and there is so much weight and sorrow in that one exhalation of air.
“I’m sorry, y/n.”
“John?” The panic in your voice starts to rise.
“Shh. Don’t get excited. It won’t be good.”
A rampaging new vampire was the last thing he needed on his hands.
“Those things took me,” you whisper, your hand covering your mouth. You start to remember what happened, those creeps who snatched you from your apartment, the impossible things you saw. They were monsters. Vampires. Things you only thought existed in folklore, books, bad B movies. And they’d told you a little about John Constantine too. That he was some sort of demon hunter, crazy as that fucking sounded, who clearly they wished to do harm to.
“Yeah.”
“They took me,” you repeat with emphasis, still trying to understand.
A longer pause, pregnant with lots of words you sense he doesn’t quite know how to say.
Again, he settles for, “Yeah.”
“Why?”
“I guess…they thought that you mean something to me.”
After everything that happened, this hits you like a knife between the ribs, a long sharp blade aimed right for your heart.
“Do I not?”
“Come on, I didn't mean it like that.”
Yes he did, and you realize... that maybe he's just like all the others.
At least he'd warned you.
You just...had hoped, anyway, like the stupid little romantic you are.
You look down, unable to meet his eyes.
You kind of want to cry, but you're not even sure you can anymore.
“I came for you as soon as I knew,” he says quietly, not liking this at all.
You nod, your lip quivering.
“What's going to happen to me?”
The haunted way he looks at you rends your heart in two.
“We'll…figure it out.”
“I'm hungry...I think.”
He nods gravely.
“I was afraid of that.”
“What am I going to do?”
“I'll...try to help you.”
Your eyes go to his throat again. The thought should be gross, but...you just feel hunger pangs, instead—and a confusing wave of desire.
He notices the focus of your attention, and looks uneasy about it. Your eyes have started to glow.
“Why don't we start with the wrist?” he deadpans, not enthused about your untried razor-sharp fangs in his throat.
You nod shakily, tears in your eyes. “I'm sorry,” you say.
There's a flicker in John's soulful brown eyes, and though he says nothing, you feel his guilt as though it's your own. You feel it crawling over your skin, and it scares you.
What is happening to you?
“Come on,” he says gruffly. “Let's get this over with.”
You've seen the movies, and you’re not a total idiot. But the thought of actually...biting him? And drinking his blood? It freaks you out, ok, even if every cell in your body is singing out for you to swallow him down. The smell of him. You'd thought it was intoxicating before. Aftershave, spice, and cigarette smoke. The smoke was good only because it ticked some deep buried memory box in your subconscious. But now...it’s like you can sense the strength of his very soul, in the smell of his blood, and you know he will nourish you.
These thoughts come to you unbidden, and you don't even really know what they mean. Just... that they are unequivocally true.
You take his wrist, the blue veins there seeming to dance for your new improved vampire vision, as though you can see the blood pumping within them.
This is so fucking weird.
“You’re going to be really strong now,” he cautions you. Then, the corner of his mouth ticks. “So be gentle with me.”
Your eyebrows raise at the thought that you could actually hurt him. This big, strong man who threw you around not so long ago like you were just a doll. You’d loved that, truth be told. The memory is so sweet that it almost makes you want to cry again.
“I don’t know if I can do this.”
“You should do it now,” he says. “Because you’re just going to get hungrier, and young vampires when they’re hungry are at their most dangerous. I’d hate to have to—”
He cuts himself off before finishing that thought. Your eyes drift to his nightstand, the holy water, crucifixes, and a broom handle piece that has been sharpened into a nice neat stake. Just in case he has to shove it through your heart.
“Could you do that to me?” you ask quietly before you can stop yourself, still staring at the stake.
“I don’t want to find out,” he deflects. “So come on. Pull up your big girl panties.”
You glare at him, taking his wrist again. “I think I have a right to be freaked out about this.”
“Sure, but it is what it is,” he fires back unkindly. “You’re a vampire now. You have to drink blood to survive, and you’re Damned. Welcome to the club.”
You frown at him, your eyes flashing dangerously. You notice him tense, his attention flicking over to the stake on the bedside.
“You’re afraid of me now,” you marvel.
“A little, yeah.”
“And I should be afraid of you? They told me what you are.”
“Let’s agree to have a healthy respect of one another, alright?”
You sit quietly, contemplating him. With his wrist in your grasp you can feel the thump thump of his pulse through your entire body, like bumping bass out of a speaker. It is distracting, and as you think about what you must do a warmth rises in you, a tingling rush of power that spreads from your fingers into his arm. It makes him shudder, his pupils suddenly blown wide with desire.
This feels good. Better than the fear, although you’re ashamed to admit, that had been delicious too.
You don’t know how you’re doing any of this. It’s just happening, and you let your new instinct take you, straddling his narrow hips to find his burgeoning erection straining against his slacks. You are still wearing the sundress those creatures took you in, and nothing but the thin cotton of your panties barricades the space between you and him.
He is so handsome, and strong. His blood smells so strong, and it fills you with an aching desire, wetness flooding between your legs. Suddenly the desire to bite him while he is inside you grips you like an iron fist, some ancient knowledge of arcane pleasure pulsing through your veins. You blink, the urge receding only slightly, and you do not know it but your eyes glow like coals. It’s strange, how your body feels cold, except where your skin is touching his. Your points of contact are almost searing, in comparison.
“Y/n…”
“What?” you taunt him. “You don’t want me now that I’m a monster?”
You can still hardly believe this is really happening to you.
“I think you can feel that’s not the case.”
Again, you sense his fear, cloyingly sweet upon your tongue. You like it, and that is the thing that brings you back to yourself. Wanting anyone to be afraid of you is so opposite your true nature that it shocks you.
“Fuck. I’m sorry,” you apologize again, squeezing your eyes closed.
“It’s alright,” he says in that deep voice of his.
It’s not. It’s really not.
“Just…can we get this over with, please?”
“Jesus Christ.”
“He’s not going to help you now, believe me. Just…go slow, ok? Don’t bite me too hard. I need use of my hand still, if you don’t mind.”
You let out a shuddering breath. It feels weird, and you realize…you don’t need to breathe? Taking in air is a reflex, but there’s no effect of your body processing oxygen.
Jesus fucking Christ.
“Okay. I’m going to do it.”
“Any day now.”
“Shut up.”
This is the thing that actually makes him smile, that slight curl of lips that is like a full-on grin for most people. Maybe it’s stupid—but it gives you courage.
You graze his skin with your new sharp teeth, and like a beachcomber searching for treasure with a metal detector, you just sense the sweet spot. You move as carefully as you can, pressing down into his flesh to make two neat little holes.
The spill of blood is divine, and you don’t have time to think that it’s gross. It fills your mouth and it is good, and you are so hungry, and you can’t get enough. The magic in this bloodletting rises like a tide, desire crashing over the both of you in a tingling, intoxicating rush. You feel everything, and there is no extricating the sexual pleasure from the gustatory. They are one and the same with this man, his delicious, powerful blood filling your mouth, his strapping body beneath yours, his hips bucking against you.
You feel his hand slide up your thigh, his thumb seeking the molten center of you. When he makes himself stop just short of your panty line you whine in protest, straining for his touch, but he resists your goading, his fingertips digging into your soft flesh. Perhaps you should be grateful, that he is strong enough to resist the pull of this magic between you, trying not to debauch you while you feed for the first time and everything is new and you have no idea what is happening. And yet, you can hardly think past how wonderful it would be to have his teeming erection buried inside you to the hilt while you drink him down.
You would tell him all this, but you can’t bring yourself to separate your mouth from the font of his delectable lifeblood. In fact, you don’t know how you’re going to stop, period.
It’s just so good.
John watches you through heavy lidded eyes, seemingly enjoying this as much as you are. Yet he has more sense of the situation as well, and when he tells you, “That’s enough, y/n,” an inhuman keening of protest escapes from deep in your throat.
“Y/n…” he warns again, his words thick with desire. “You have to stop.”
You close your eyes, telling yourself just one last mouthful.
That was two long sucking draughts ago.
Suddenly you feel a searing heat very near your face. Startled, your eyes fly open to find the crucifix there before you, and you hiss in answer, scrabbling back on the bed away from the holy item. With John Constantine’s blood on your lips you cower, shielding your eyes with a hand.
With a shuddering sigh he lowers the cross, sitting back against the headboard of his bed. He presses a tissue against his wrist, and your eyes are drawn to the crimson stains flowering on the wad of paper beneath his fingers.
What a waste, you think, before shaking the thought away.
Then the horror of what could have happened dawns on you.
You could have drank him dry, and in the heat of the moment you would have done it gladly.
Oh God. What have you become?
“I’m sorry,” you apologize again. “Are you ok?”
He actually has the gall to smirk at you, as though any of this could be funny. “Yeah. Not the first time I’ve lost a little blood.”
There’s some inside joke in that statement you don’t understand, though you sense the darkness of self-deprecation in it.
Somehow, you feel simultaneously sated, and horrible. With a whimper you curl up at the foot of his bed, closing your eyes against the world. You can feel everything. You sense the people in the building, the fragile sound of their juicy little hearts beating. Even outside, the life on the street, men and women going about their lives with no idea what lurks in the shadows, wanting to eat them up…
But most distracting of all, the sheets beneath you smell like John, and the lust in your blood has yet to abate, even if the feeding is over. You feel it marching across your skin like red-hot ants. The desire to crawl up the bed and press your bloody lips to his is real, and you fight it with everything you have, because you don’t imagine he’d appreciate that very much after what he’s done for you. The sour expression on his face did not match the size of the tent in his pants, that is for sure.
You wonder, is it going to be like this every time you eat from now on? The thought does not thrill you.
“Hey,” he goads softly, and your eyes fly open to regard him. Again, your irises shine like lanterns, fueled by the roil of emotions warring in your heart. “Come here.” He holds out one of those beautiful hands to you. Hands that you had so relished upon your body, on your flesh, in your hair…hands with such thick, beautiful blue veins…
You’re not sure how he knows that you want to be held, but now you fear it too. You fear what you are, and your ability to control yourself around him. Because the truth is you still want him very much, and he’d basically told you point blank that you mean nothing to him. The thought weighs on your heart now like a thousand stinging needles, and you feel your eyes fill with moisture of some kind.
So, vampires can cry after all.
You touch a finger to the corner of your eye, and see it comes away tinted red.
You kind of want to throw up.
“Maybe…I should go,” you say sadly, sitting up. You’re certain you look as disheveled as you feel. Your hair is a bird’s nest. Your once pretty floral sundress is dirty and torn. No wonder he doesn’t want you.
“If…you want.” Why does he sound sad about it? Shouldn’t he be glad to see the backside of you? Constantine the Demon Hunter? If you’d been nothing but a one-night fuck as a human, he certainly didn’t want to spend time with you now.
“You know you’re going to need a dark place to rest for the day?”
Is he actually worried about where you’re going to sleep?
“Okay.” You think you can manage that, in your apartment next door. Or maybe…you’ll see what happens, if you watch the sun rise. Maybe it would just be better that way. Are vampire suicides double damned? You’ve never really been a religious person, but he’d said it like it was A Thing.
It reminds you of what John had said earlier. “What did you mean before? When you said join the club?”
He sighs, reaching for a pack of cigarettes on the night stand. “I’ll tell you some other time.”
Feeling like you’ve now been dismissed, you slide from the bed, standing on bare feet. You should be sore, but your movements are lithe, liquid as a cat’s.
Something else to get used to.
You can feel Constantine’s eyes glued to you, and you dare to take one last look back, waiting to turn to a pillar of salt. He’s so handsome it hurts, even in his rumpled state, his cuffs rolled up his forearms and his tie loose around his neck. How do his soulful dark eyes seem to hold all the sorrow of the world right now?
“Bye, John.”
He just nods, and you let yourself out.
***
Much to your surprise, ten minutes before dawn, you hear a knock on your door. You know it's John. You can tell by the sound of his breathing, the sound of his heart beat. You can smell him, and it is a heady thing in your nostrils. When you do not answer he just lets himself in, the cheeky bastard.
He finds you sitting in one of your thrift store chairs by the window, one of the only ones not broken in the mess the vampires who took you left behind. He does not like this, you can tell, by his hairline frown.
“Hey.”
“Hi.”
“Hate to tell you, but you're going to have to find a new way to get your vitamin D.”
“Ha ha,” you say, turning back to the window. A few people are out and about below. This city never really sleeps.
“Hey,” he says again, crouching down by your chair. “I know this is a lot...”
The look you pay him is not exactly kind. He plows forward anyway.
“But take it from someone who's been there. Hell isn't a place you should be in a hurry to go.”
You blink at that. He says it like it's so black and white, not a hint of uncertainty. Not faith. Fact. Once upon a time, you might have questioned his sanity. Not anymore.
“Sounds like you've been.”
“For about two minutes. It was enough.”
“What was it like?” you whisper.
“Pure agony.”
Your eyes go wide at hearing that.
“So...want to show me your bolt hole?” he asks.
Once upon a time you would have capitalized on the opportunity for inuendo with such comedic gold just handed to you for free, but you’re not in the mood. You just stare at him.
“John...You're a demon hunter. Why do you care?”
He tries to meet your eyes, but in the end can only look away. “Come on, y/n. Just…don’t give up yet, ok?”
He just feels guilty, you tell yourself, and you pry yourself from your chair with a sigh. You’re not sure what the point of anything will be, anymore. But maybe you’ll make an effort to go on, because he asked you to.
Sometimes, that’s all it takes.
“Fine.”
You figure the closet will be the darkest place in the apartment for you to hide.
#john constantine x reader#constantine 2005#john constantine#constantine x reader#constantine x you#constantine x y/n#keanu reeves#constantine 2005 fic#john constantine x you#constantine vampire fic
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MASTERLIST
JOHN WICK
Playing His Game
A Dance With Destiny
A Dance With Destiny II
Wounds Of The Past
JOHN CONSTANTINE
Your Little Time
Blissful
KEVIN LOMAX
Cheater
Pregnancy Cravings
Turning Tables
Turning Tables II
Turning Tables III
Johnny Utah
An Evening to Remember
Tommy Wernicke
Special
Keanu Reeves
Too Old, Huh?
Challenge Accepted
Tex Johnson
"Daddy"
#masterlist#keanu#keanugifs#keanu reeves x you#keanu reeves x reader#keanu reeves#john wick#john wick x reader#john constantine#keanu reeves edit#constantine 2005#keanuverse#films#john wick chapter 4#john wick x you#john wick imagine#john wick fanfiction#john constantine x you#john constantine imagine#john constantine x reader#john constantine 2005#kevin lomax x you#kevin lomax x reader#the devils advocate#point break#johnny utah#johnny utah x you#johnny utah x reader#smut#keanuedit
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mentor!john constantine would tell you you're annoying following him like a stray kitty. you go after him always, going wherever he goes but then one day you don't feel like following the bloody bastard and he'll stand on your door "is something wrong, lass? you're not joining?" you'll think he's mocking you but you can hear a slight hint of concern on his voice because your company makes him feel a bit more capable after you chose to learn from him
#mara's thoughts#john constantine#john constantine x reader#john constantine x you#john constantine imagine#john constantine drabble#mentor!john constantine
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John Constantine? He can summon things… right? Does that include a hellish tentacle monster? (NSFW)
I’m talking about a proper slippery demon - slimy tendrils that never end, all shapes and sizes. Some ribbed with big ridges perfect for massaging inside your cunt. Some equipped with little lubed suction cups that latch onto your clit and nipples - those ones alone are enough to make your eyes roll back and drool drip down your chin.
Oily tendrils exploring every inch of your body, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it because your arms and legs are tightly secured in the monster’s grip. Little tongue-like appendages honing in on the erogenous zones that you just can’t hide.
Constantine watching you with a cherry tipped cigarette dangling from his mouth, sweaty and spent, manspreading on the couch with his pants undone, white shirt unbuttoned, cock shoved messily into his boxers, already fattening up again despite his previous orgasm.
All you can do is look up at him with little tears in your eyes as you get fucked in every hole for his viewing pleasure.
thanks @lilspookymeh for the brain rot. And now everyone must suffer w me 🤭
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Fallen Night
John Constantine x Rich Reader (Gender-Neutral)
Request - John Constantine x rich reader who spoils him
John came back a mess from a mission, he was gone for days. His trench coat is ripped and he smells bad, but you couldn't help to kiss him.
“I missed you, but I need a shower,” John said.
“Yeah, you smell so bad,” You said.
John starts to take off his clothes and gets in the shower. You throw away his clothes and he is happy to be home. You and John have been dating for a while and he asked you to move in with him. He knows you are not used to living in a small house since you grew up in a rich family. But you told him you don't care about the size of the house.
He comes out of the shower and puts on clean clothes. Then you start to make something to eat.
“Finally some real food,” John said.
“The food is bad in hell?” You asked.
“It’s rubbish, love,” John said.
You and John start to eat together. He starts to tell you how he got annoyed by the legends.
“Oh, I got something for you!” You smiled.
“What is it?” John asked.
You rushed to get the gift from the closet, then you come back. You give the big box and you can't stop smiling.
“Open it” You smiled.
“Okay, keep your knickers on, I'm going to open it” John smirked.
He starts to open the box and it's a very expensive trench coat. He touched the material and it‘s much better than the one he wears.
“This trench coat feels better than my old coat,” John said.
“Try it on” You smiled.
John puts on the trench coat and he likes it.
“This actually feels good. Love, you didn't have to buy it for me” John said.
“I wanted to. You look very handsome in it” You said.
John kissed you on the lips and you smiled again. At the beginning of the relationship, John wasn't used to being spoiled with gifts and lots of attention. But later on, he got used to it but he isn't the type ask for gifts or anything in general. John is a simple man, but he does appreciate what you do for him.
✬ ✬ ✯ ✯
You bought expensive chocolate and you share it with your boyfriend.
“Please tell me, you didn't spend over a hundred pounds on chocolate,” John said.
“First of all, it wasn't hundred dollars,” You said.
“How much was it?” John asked.
“Five hundred dollars...” You said shyly.
“What!?” John yelled.
He almost choked on the chocolate, you start to pat his back.
“Five hundred pounds! Are you insane, love!?” John said.
“First of all, this was made by the best chocolate maker ever. Do you have any idea how long I had to wait and get them!? And you like it, because you keep eating it” You said.
“You are making my hair grey faster,” John said.
You rolled your eyes at him. But you and John kept eating the chocolate together. Later, you and John had to go on a double date with Ava and Sarah.
----
It's John’s birthday and he doesn't want a party at all. John couldn't help to smile when you surprised him with cake, some balloons, and gifts.
“Happy birthday, John!” You said.
You hugged him then he kissed you on the lips.
“Thank you, love,” John said.
You kissed him again and he smacked your ass. You lit the candles and you took a picture of him, you don't share the picture with anyone. You just save the picture on your phone. He blows out the candle then you cut a piece of cake for him. You and John start to eat the cake
“Here is your gift,” You said.
“Good cake. Let's see what you got for me” John said.
He had some frosting on his lip, you wipe the frosting off his lip with your thumb.
“Do you like it?” You asked.
You got him a costume made lighter and his name is craved on the bottom. And there are two rare diamonds in the middle.
“Wow, Y/n I'm speechless but I love it,” John said.
“I’m glad, you like it” You smiled.
He gave a peck on the lips. He starts to open the other gifts then you and John ate more cake. John did like all the gifts that you bought for him.
“You know, I don't like celebrating my birthday but with you is better,” John said.
You gently hold his hand.
“You mean so much to me,” You said.
“You better not tell anyone about this,” John said.
“I won't tell anyone,” You said.
John kissed you on the lips. Then he lit the cigarette with the new lighter and he couldn't help to smirk.
#john constantine imagine#john constantine x you#john constantine x reader#John Constantine x male reader#John Constantine x gn reader#gender neutral reader#x male reader#male!reader#male reader#lot imagine
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can you do relationship hcs with constantine: sfw and nsfw. this man has invaded my brain. also love ur writing <33
cw/tw: john constantine x reader, Constantine x gn!reader, degrading (a little), biting, daddy kink, let me know if you find anymore i should add!
a/n: AH thank you!! im so glad you like my writing and i hope you like this! <3 this was actually fun to work on lol
masterlist
sfw
he's sarcastic and generally doesn't care for people, but those he does care about, he kinda has a funny way of showing it
so with you, it's playful banter; it's acting like he's annoyed with you but secretly he loves when you are near him or "bugging" him when he's working
another way he shows his love for you is in really subtle ways, like if you drop something under the table, he holds the corner of the table so you won't bump your head
if you guys live together and you have a cat, he acts like he doesn't like the cat and acts like it's a nuisance
but then you'll wake up one morning to find them cuddling and the cat ends up following him everywhere🙄
also during the relationship he doesn’t know how to handle being vulnerable, or even being close with people in general
he's just not use to it but also he's afraid of hurting anybody that's close to him :(
so he can be kind of off putting towards you sometimes. but at the end of the day you're still around, stuck to him like glue and it secretly makes his heart melt :(
sometimes, he won't talk to you for days on end, then show up at your house with little trinkets or flowers that he got for you
'aw! you thought of me when you saw these?'
'yea, so what?' he'd say, a newly lit cigarette in his mouth, completely unbothered (he doesn't know how to be affectionate he's literally me)
basically he’s exactly my kind of man (mean and not attracted to me <3)
nsfw!
ok look, im not into the rough or degrading stuff, buuuut that's what he is! so on this one occassion im into it and ill write it
…he's a little degrading
but he does it in a quiet and soft voice, nothing too much to hurt your feelings (I’m very sensitive-if he called me a slut I'd take it to heart and cry <3)
he degrades in a way where he makes you flustered on purpose, then taunts you for it
like he's fucking you for the first time and you're trying to hide your face from his view, and he's not having it
'aw, getting all shy for me?' (i need help)
he'd pin you against the mattress while pounding you from behind, whispering in your ear, 'you like this huh?' and just bottoms out and goes deeeepp
bruises on thighs bruises on thighs b-
i dont even know if this is considered nsfw but he's an ass guy
he likes to bite? bite ur ass, thighs...he might be hungry idk but you're loving it
daddy kink 💋- i cant really explain it he likes the role and plays it well, he's demanding and stern and cold UGh i need him
#jess' inbox<3#john constantine#keanu reeves#john constantine x reader#john constantine x you#john constantine x y/n#jw#john wick#john wick x reader
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Heatwave.
John Constantine.
The last few days have been hot and sunny, you’ve been begging John, your boyfriend, to take you to the beach, but he would just dismiss it saying he was too busy working. After a couple times of you bugging him about it, he finally agreed.
It’s now Thursday, 7am. You have been awake for 15 minutes now, just preparing your bag. You being too indecisive, you decide to let John pick out your swimsuit. “John? Wake up, babe.” You slightly nudge his sleeping body. He groans and turns his body away from you. You know he hates being up early, but he promised. Suddenly, an idea pops in your head. You take your top off, leaving you in only panties and pj shorts. You get on top of him, take his much larger hands in yours placing them on your thighs, which are now on either side of his body. You know he’s awake when you feel his hands tighten around your thighs.
“You sure you want to do this?” He asks in a low, almost warning tone. You lower your face closer to his, give him a quick small peck on the side of his face. “If it’s the only way to get you to wake up, then yes.” You softly speak. You can feel a bulge growing in his pants. His hands sneak around your waist, holding you tight as he pulls himself up. You bite your lips once you see him eyeing your body so hungrily. He finally puts his lips on yours. John’s hands roam all around your body, leaving small slaps on your thighs from time to time.
You pull away, pushing yourself a bit further away in his lap. Your hands reach the hem of his shirt, pulling it off him. Biting your bottom lip, you take a moment to stare at his shirtless body for a few seconds. Your right hand slides inside his pants, you slowly start stroking his member. He couldn’t stop himself from thrusting his hips into your hand, feeling too needy. You giggle at his impatience and start to pump faster, feeling proud of yourself every time you would hear him grunt.
John abruptly stops you by taking your hand in his. You look up at him, confused. “I want to finish inside you, baby.” He states, noticing your confused face. Your body warms up, your face turns red. He pulls you off him and lays you on the bed, then takes your shorts and panties off. He gets up to fully take his own pants off this time. Your legs are held apart by his big hands, he couldn’t stop admiring your naked body. Out of neediness, your left hand slides down from your breast to your thigh and slowly starts squeezing it, your right hand playing with your breast. John knows you’re growing impatient, he just likes making you wait.
After what seemed like hours, he kneels on the bed and places his cock right at your entrance. “Fuck- you’re so wet, baby.” He says, slightly chuckling under his breath. You turn your face to the side, a little bit embarrassed and flushed at the same time. His hand grabs you by the chin, making you face him. “Nuh-uh, sweetheart. I want you to watch me ruin your pretty cunt.” He whispers, letting go of your chin.
John’s hand is back on your thigh, now both his hands holding them apart. You can feel the tip of his cock on your cunt which just makes you huff in annoyance. Understanding you, he wastes no other second and pushes the tip in. Your back arches, a silent gasp leaves your mouth ajar. You never truly get used to how big he is. Your tight cunt couldn't take him all in at once, so he forces himself into you. John hears his lover cry out in pain and brings his hand to stroke her hair. "Shh, pretty baby. It's okay." He comforts you, still stroking your hair. Tears form in your eyes, your nails digging into his biceps, leaving marks. Constantine, being the gentleman he is, gives you a minute to adjust before pulling himself out and aggressively plunging back inside you, hitting your cervix. Cries and moans of pain and pleasure escaped your lips. He's now rapidly thrusting in and out of you. All that could be heard in his appartment were grunts, curses and moans coming from him or cries, whimpers and moans coming from you.You could feel your climax approaching. The pleasure being too overwhelming, your fingers tug on his hair and your nails roughen up his back a little. John enjoys your rough side more than you think, the pain excites him a lot. He feels your walls clench tight around him as you tug on his hair a little harder. He understands you're close. "J-john- I'm going= to c-cum." You allow yourself to express in-between moans. "Fuck. I know, baby, me too. Let's finish together." He says, kissing the side of your neck. His thrusts get a little sloppy and your hands fall to your side. John is muttering curses and unholy words under his breath masking them by grunts or groans. His left hand holding him up, giving your breasts hard slaps with his right one. As you feel yourself reach an intense climax, seeing stars, you feel his warm semen shoot inside you which only made your climax feel much, much better.
Still softy and slowly thrusting in and out of you, he lowers himself on your body, hands barely holding him up as they were shaky. You throw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a kiss. You weren't sure how he found the energy to fuck you so hard and passionately as soon as you woke up, but you surely weren't about to complain. "Do you still want to go to the beach?" He asks, pulling himself off you and laying next to you. You know he's looking for reasons to stay in and do nothing all day, but you wouldn't let him have it his way. John puts his arms around you and pulls you to your side, still in his hold "Yes, please. Then I'll go with you to your stupid, stinky bar." You answer softy with puppy eyes, hoping it would convince him.
"Let's go shower, then." He finally gives in.
#John Constantine#john constantine au#John Constantine X reader#john Constantine 2005#John Constantine X you#John Constantine smut#john constantine fanfic#Constantine#constantine 2005#Keanu reeves#keanu reeves smut#keanu reeves fanfic
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Quizzical | John Constantine x gn!reader
『••✎••』
↳ ❝ Hi, I hope it's not too late to request John Constantine with the prompt "It must be magic, how inside your eyes, I see my destiny" of your list? ❞
: ̗̀➛ However he does it is a mystery, but John always finds a way to surprise you.
: ̗̀➛ swearing, VERY VERY mild sex references
•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•
Stretching out on your sofa, John made himself more than at home; his shoes were chucked aside somewhere between the fireplace and the sofa, and his coat had long been tossed to the floor somewhere he didn’t actually care to look.
His tie was completely undone, sitting open against his off-white shirt as he watched you go about picking his things up and putting them away properly; he smiled, tilting his head to the side and watching you curiously.
Of all the beings in the world that he had been with, John kept finding himself coming back to you every single time; he thought at first that maybe it was just the overnight stays, but he soon pushed that aside when he realised that it was something else.
No, you were different. Maybe it was the fact that you didn’t pry, or that you understood almost completely what it was like for him; maybe it was just the fact that you were more open and more accepting and welcoming of him than anybody else in the world.
He put his feet up, relaxing and closing his eyes as he yawned softly; a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth for just a moment too long that you noticed, smacking his ankle to grab his attention.
“Oi! If you’re gonna sit there like bloody King Shit of Dung Manner, least you could do is go and make a fuckin’ butty, would ya?”
John grinned, spreading his legs so that one slipped off of the sofa, giving you more than enough room to sit between his legs as he looked you up and down eagerly. “Now why would I do that, eh?”
You wanted to roll your eyes and to chastise him for not doing anything for you while you were expected to clean up after him, but you could only sigh as you raked a hand down your face and shrugged. “Maybe because I have to put up with Bruce Wayne every fucking day?”
“You wanted the job,” he pointed out. “If you didn’t wanna be his assistant, you wouldn’t’ve taken the job. You said so yourself that you was happy enough working as his social whatever manager.”
“Social media manager,” you huffed. “And I was! I really was! But the money is better, and the hours are… less demanding.”
“So don’t complain,” John chuckled, lying back with a smug hum. “I might be your boyfriend, but I’m not your fuckin’ job advisor.”
You paused, stunned for a moment as you looked at him quizzically; he had never used that word before, and you were almost certain that being your actual boyfriend was not something that he would have ever wanted.
He was John Constantine, for crying out loud - he didn’t do relationships. But when you didn’t answer for far too long for his comfort, he raised a brow, looking at you like he was expecting you to say something and he was hooked on every little noise you would make until you spoke.
“What?” He asked, furrowing his brows. “Cat your bleeding tongue?”
You shook your head, trying to come to your senses as you sighed and attempted to put the words completely together for once. “No, just… you never said that you were my boyfriend before… and I never thought that’s what you… what you wanted.”
John didn’t seem phased as he gestured at the room around him. “Well, what’d you call the bloke who sleeps with you nearly every night, constantly calls, and is always hanging around?”
“I… I dunno,” you whispered softly. “I guess I just never… never really thought about it because you didn’t bring it up or nothing…”
He hummed, squirming to sit upright before leaning back slightly and resting on his arm. “Well, we’re talking about it now, ain’t we?”
“Yeah, I guess,” you murmured. “Is that… is that what you want? To be my boyfriend, I mean, is that what you want?”
He nodded. “I wouldn’t’ve said it if I didn’t mean it.”
You nodded back, chewing at the inside of your lip. “So it’s settled, then… now, go make me a sandwich, yeah?”
John rolled his eyes as he moved to get off of the sofa, but he paused to quickly press a soft kiss to your lips before he moved away; you almost missed his presence when he wandered into the kitchen, but you couldn’t deny that there was something… off about the way he kissed you.
It wasn’t hungry and harsh like it usually was, and it wasn’t filled with heat and neediness like normal. It was sweet and soft, and chaste and unexpecting.
You chewed at the inside of your lip, thinking about what it could have possibly meant; of course, you knew that you would probably have to let Bruce down from now on, as he often took you with him as his plus one to events and galas and such - but now you would probably have to tell him that you couldn’t do that, as you were with John and you didn’t want him to think that you and Bruce were a couple.
“Alright,” John announced as he sauntered back in, wiping his hands on his shirt. “I got the cheese on toast going at the moment, I’ll chuck some jam on it once it’s done.”
You hummed as you looked at him, almost shocked. “Yeah, yeah, thank you.”
“You alright?” He asked, furrowing his brows as he came to sit beside you.
“Just thinking,” you told him softly, dismissively shaking your head. “Y’know, I’m probably gonna have to tell Bruce, I mean-”
“You’ve been going out with him to all that fancy shit for yonks and I’ve never gotten jealous before,” he pointed out. “Don’t intend to, either. Trust me, it must be magic, how inside your eyes, I see my destiny - and it must be magic if Bruce Wayne ever thinks he’s gonna get in your trousers.”
You laughed quite loudly, playfully shoving him. “You’re an ass!”
“Meh,” he slung his arm around your shoulders. “You love me.”
#mlem writes#john constantine x reader#john constantine x you#john constantine imagine#john constantine fanfiction#john constantine fanfic#john constantine fic#john constantine#constantine x reader#constantine x you#constantine x y/n#constantine imagine#constantine fanfiction#constantine fanfic#constantine fic#constantine#dc x reader#dc x you#dc x y/n#dc x yn#dc imagine#dc fanfiction#dc fanfic#dc fic#dc one shot#dc oneshot#dc
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Hello 👋 can I pls request boyfriend headcanons for John Constantine? Both sfw and nsfw if you're not uncomfortable? Thanks ❤️
of course nonnie!
cw: possessive behavior, p in v, cursing, smoking
the thing is, i cannot physically imagine this man as a boyfriend. he hates labels. he doesn’t want to over complicate his life and potentially put you in danger by giving you the title of his girlfriend.
“she’s not my girlfriend.” he’d grit his teeth, denying it all together. “i just fuck her, that’s it. well, and we go out, and have dinner at her’s occasionally, and i may have accidentally met her grandma. but she’s not my god damn girlfriend.”
“yeah,” chas would roll his eyes and pass constantine a beer. “whatever you say, dude.”
you two met on somewhat normal of circumstances. that’s why he’s stayed as long as he has, he doesn’t associate his first impression of you with any sort of shitty job. no demons, no half angels, no anything.
i said somewhat.
it was some club that he had been to before in his younger years. he wanted some pussy and to get drunk while doing it. so fuck it. some shit head, a 5’6 dumbass knocked into him and cussed him out in front of the whole bar. turns out, that the short asshole, was your date that night.
the last time he saw that little shit, the dude had walked in on constantine holding you up in the men’s bathroom. his nails dug into the flesh of your ass while he thrusted into your sopping cunt. and the eye contact you two made in that dingy restroom? with his hot breath smelling of gin and cigarettes, you relished in it’s scent while being fucked by constantine, with your date finding himself cucked in the doorway.
what’s a better way to get back at an asshole than fucking his date?
just because you two technically aren’t a couple, doesn’t mean Constantine isn’t a jealous SOB. he doesn’t have much in this world, so anything close to him, he’s stupidly possessive over.
“so, I saw your car at that new bar on Thursday.” constantine would grumble, lighting a cigarette in his weird excuse of an apartment.
“yeah, and? what about it?” you’d reply, changing the channel on the tv to the bachelorette. (he claims he can’t stand that show but will comment his varying opinions on the drama, classic)
“well, what the hell were you up to?” his tone agitated, frowning over at you.
you’d sigh, rolling your eyes. “i was on a date, john.” you ripped the band aid clean off. he’s a grown man, he can handle it.
well, that’s what you assumed.
that’s until your face is pressed into one of his cheap pillows on his bed, his bony hips slapping against the cusp of your ass, as he spanks it over, and over, and over again. the stirring in your core repeats, just on the brink of a blood curdling orgasm. constantine has been denying you of the satisfaction of cumming, he grabs a fistful of your sweaty locks by the base, yanking your head back so you’re forced to look up at him.
“bet he can’t fuck you like me. can he? nah, I’m the only one who knows just how you like it, fuckin’ brat. you don’t deserve my cock, i should have just given you the tip and let you suffer.”
your loud moans and other sinful noises bounce off of the unkempt walls of his dwelling. constantine would pry your mouth open, spitting directly into it, his saliva landing right onto your tongue. yet another power play he can pull, just to humiliate you.
“you’re fuckin’ mine, these tits are mine,” his calloused hands pawing at your bosom. “this ass is mine.” SMACK! you shriek in pain, while he hammers his length deeper into you. “this cunt? yeah, that’s mine, and you got the best baby. so tight, so god damn warm, all for me, right?” his grip on the roots of your hair tightens, shooting pain down your scalp.
“yeah! yes yes yes, john, it’s all yours! f-f-fuck!”
constantine would snicker, grabbing his still lit cigarette from the ash tray on the bedside table and taking a long drag. he blew the smoke right back into your face, which makes you cough and wheeze.
“that’s what I thought. no one else’s, just mine.”
#john constantine x reader#constantine 2005#john constantine#john constantine x you#constantine x you#Keanu#keanu reeves#keanuverse
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do you ever just think about how constantine is just so.. big.
like that white shirt she’s wearing? that’s literally his clothes and it’s fucking HUGE on her.
he is just so big and tall and huge. he towers over you so much, teases you about it so much. he is mean.
and his height isn’t the only thing that’s huge on him !! no !! never. there’s more !!
his cock is fucking huge. i’m talking about humongous. fat. hefty. HULK-LIKE. don’t care how cringy that sounded, but when i tell you his dick is huge, his dick is HUGE.
you couldn’t even take the half of it when you first had sex. john had the mere head in and you were begging him to stop and trying to push him away. but of course, even that didn’t stop him from forcing his cock into your tight little cunt.
you screamed. scratched his back with your nails until it bled as his balls slammed against your ass. you felt so fucking full and it hurt.
oh, it fucking hurt so bad you were shaking. your poor little pussy abused and stretched to her limit :( but too fucking bad constantine is enjoying every single second of it.
“i could fuck this tight little pussy all day, bun. mold it for my cock, make you my pretty cocksleeve who knows nothing but to cry and beg.” he whispered harshly, fucking you harder, not giving you time to adjust. you were sobbing hysterically, body shaking, pussy already sore and red. “so fucking dumb, can’t even form basic words out of your pretty mouth. is my cock too big for you, bun? is that it? your mind so full of my cock that you can’t think straight?”
you could only sniffle loudly, shaking your head, wanting it all to stop, but really, your cunt is just asking for it. constantine could see the outline of his cock on your stomach, so fucking big and huge, and it’s stretching you so much.
“look at that, bun. look how your god is just ruining your insides,” john sneered, wrapping a large hand around your throat but not quite squeezing yet. “who’s your god, pretty little bun? who do you serve again?”
“y-you.. m-my god,” you sobbed, gripping his wrist tightly as you felt your pussy clenching around his fat cock. “god, please, s-stop – i feel s-so full – i feel so full, y-you’re too big –”
“we’re barely even halfway through the night, bun. your god has so many things planned out for his little bunny, so be a good girl and fucking take my cock because this is the closest thing you’ll ever have of blessing.”
#thoughts...#dark thoughts....#drabble#concept#john constantine#my works#john constantine x you#john constantine imagine#john constantine fanfic#john constantine x reader#keanu reeves#PLEASE FILL UP MY INBOX WITH JOHN CONSTANTINE YALL#IM READY TO TALK ABOUT HIM
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THE DEVILS' TRIANGLE
A Yandere Tex Johnson x Witness!Reader x John Wick (& now John Constantine) Imagine Part 8 by:
@treedaddymcpuffpuff @sweetwolfcupcake @johnwickb1tsch and @tammykelly (with honorary dream weavers / shit stirrers @lilspookymeh & @kurai-hono-blog 😘)
Warnings: So many dead doves! Do not eat! Unless you like dead doves, that is. You're in good company here. 😘 Violence, sexual content, blood, murder, kidnapping, possessive behavior, dubcon, yandere sh!t...it's all here! Please take care! 😘
ALL CHAPTERS
PART 8
Johnwickb1tsch:
"Come on, we've got to get you somewhere safe," says John Wick, trying to hustle you down the street.
"No," you protest, resisting. "We have to find John and Tex. They might need us."
You were skeptical about demons and the occult, God and the Devil and everything in between, at first. But after hanging out with Constantine, you'd seen a few things. Just enough that you had sense enough to be scared. You clutch the protection amulet around your neck that John had given you. You'd laughed at him at the time, but now you were glad to have it.
"They're both grown men, honey. I told Tex to leave you alone. This is what he gets."
Suddenly you're angry all over again. "Oh, you told him, huh?" You push John's chest--its like having a disagreement with a brick wall. "Do you have any fucking idea how much I've missed you? How it destroyed me to be thrown away like an old shirt you had no more use for?"
He is still as a mountain as he holds your wrists, preventing you from striking him, but not hurting you. Those dark eyes bore into you, through you. How does he not see you? "Y/n...I did what I thought was best for you."
"But you didn't fucking ask me! Or at least, you didn't listen! But you know what, it doesn't matter right now. John had to put some kind of a curse on Tex in self defense, because Tex is such an asshole, and now they're both in danger!"
"A what?"
You pause to think, and you're pretty sure you know where Constantine would go. There's an old church a few blocks over. Consecrated ground. It's where he's always told you to go if something came after you. It would be a good place to regroup.
"Come on," you say, pulling John in the opposite direction down the street.
For once, he actually listens, a shadow at your back ready to protect you, but he lets you lead the way.
--------------
The old building looks like it should probably be condemned. It's definitely seen better days, and hasn't seen a congregation in at least a decade. However, the ground is still holy, untouchable for the Unclean, and when you burst through the doors after John has already shot down three demons, you are so relieved to see Constantine and Tex sitting in some of the old pews. They definitely look like they've been through a battle, disheveled and beat up. You wonder how much was demons, and how much they did to each other.
"Thank God!" You run to them, and Tex's expression rises and falls as you go to Constantine, pressing your mouth to his in what you know is a needy kiss, assuring yourself as much as him.
He smirks down at you, well aware of the death- stares he's receiving from both sides. It's possible he makes a show of grabbing your ass, just to rub it in to your two Ghosts.
"Are you ok?"
"Yeah. You?"
You nod. Then Constantine rolls his eyes upward, over your head to John Wick. He is quietly forbidding in his black suit, standing watch by the door. "That your other Ghost?"
With a tired sigh you nod.
"Ghosts? The fuck is Harry Potter here talkin' about?"
The urge to punch Tex or kiss him is strong as ever.
"The two of you ghosted me, didn't you?"
"Baby girl, I missed you. That's why I came to get you." He shoots a telling glare over at John Wick, who only returns a disinterested look. Maybe the master assassin had been keeping tabs on you, but he hadn't shared everything with Tex, it seems.
Constantine looks between the two assassins, then you, with an infuriating smirk.
"What?" you demand, more than a little exasperated with everthing.
"Nothing. Just seems like you have a type, angel."
You can't even argue.
"Angel?" Tex snorts at your pet name. "Does he even know you?"
"Does he ever shut up?" asks Constantine, raising one dark eyebrow.
"No, never," you sigh.
There is a howl outside that lifts every hair on your body, an unearthly sound that makes your fingers grip in Constantine's suit jacket.
"What are we going to do?"
"Good question." Constantine tugs you over to a different pew, sitting down with his arm draped around your shoulders. His message is obvious, and it's new to you. Constantine rocks your world on the nightly, but he's never been possessive before. It really shouldn't, but it ignites a warmth in your chest that makes you feel ridiculously, stupidly, giddy inside.
"Seems like we're at an impasse, gentlemen."
Tex frowns. John seems less than impressed.
"Sorry, what's stopping us from killing you and taking her?"
You tense, watching the gun John holds loosely at his side. You know Wick can move like lightning, and your heart leaps into your throat. You are ready to fling yourself between them if you have to.
"John..."
"It's ok, sweetheart. He's not going to kill me."
"No offense, but I've heard that before from lots of people who are dead now."
Constantine snorts. "You can't kill me, because I've put a curse on your friend here, and you need me to lift it."
"So lift it."
"Can't. Got a friend who can though. You'll never see him without me."
You know Constantine must be talking about the famed and powerful bokor, Papa Midnite. A chill runs down your spine. You've met him precisely once. He was polite--and hot as fuck, if you're being honest--but you knew he was not to be trifled with.
"So let's go, then," says Tex, his patience lost about three dead demons ago.
"Hold up, Howdy Doody. We got to talk first."
"Bout?"
Constantine nods down at you. "Maybe I don't know all the details, but I've heard enough. And as much as I've enjoyed filling the hole you assholes left--I can't let you hurt her again. I'll let the demons feast on your souls first."
Almost on cue, that demonic howling sounds again outside, and a chorus of hellish hissing rises. It sounds like you are surrounded.
Tex leaps to his feet. "You smug little fucker--"
"Shut up, Tex." It's Wick who shushes his friend. "What do you propose?"
Finally, Constantine looks down at you. "It depends on what she wants."
Your mouth drops open at that. You have to decide that, now? As though he can read your thoughts, and sometimes you're convinced he can, Constantine pays you an infuriating smirk.
"I...don't want them dead. Or...devoured."
"That's a start, I guess. Do you ever want to be with them again?"
Your eyes go wide as saucers. The simple answer, of course, is yes. You love them. You miss them.
However, answers are never so simple, with your Boys involved. Like an idiot, you dare to look at them, taking in Tex's hang-dog puppy-eyed look, and John's quiet but intense yearning. Then, of course, there is the man beside you, who despite his aloofness and his prickly manner, has been nothing but good to you.
You've never said it out loud, but the truth is, you love him too.
"I don't know."
"Yeah. I figured." He smirks at you, inexplicably smug, and you kind of want to smack him too.
Which always leads to interesting things, with John Constantine, your stupid lady parts sing out. Jesus Christ on a cracker, what a fucking mess.
"You got a point, Gandalf?" demands Tex, paying a nervous look to one of the cracked stained glass windows. Ominous dark shapes are flying past outside. This is not good.
"I want you assholes to accept a Spell of Submission to her."
"The fuck does that mean?" demands Tex with a thunderous frown. John remains neutral as he listens.
"It means, if you ever try to make her do something she really doesn't want to do, again, she can say the magic words to fuck up your world. Pardner."
"No fuckin' way," Tex scoffs.
At the same time, John answers, "I'll do it."
Your eyes meet across the aisle of the church. That he would take such a leap of faith-- for you-- drops the floor out from under you.
Tex, of course, interrupts your moment of soul- searching eye contact with John.
"Wait, so we could be havin' an argument and she can drop me dead with the evil eye or somethin'?"
Constantine snorts. "It would probably serve you right, Hee Haw, but no. Cause you extreme pain? Yes. But it comes at a price. All magic does. I know she wouldn't use it lightly."
It would potentially even the playing field quite a bit between you three. The balance of power amongst you had never been fair.
"What's a matter, Tex? You don't trust me?"
"Only as far a I could throw you, darlin'." But his hawk-like look softens for you after a moment, and then surprisingly he grins. "Got me over a barrel now, don't you?"
You shift a little in your seat, so that you're flush against Constantine. The solid line of his lithe warmth beside you is anchoring. You glance up at him, finding he looks arrogantly amused-- and surprisingly, a little sad. If you didn't know him so well you would have missed it, like ripples in a pool.
You turn back to Tex, an uneasy excitement thrumming in your chest.
"If the curse fits?"
The cowboy sighs, frowning at the hellspawn waiting to rend his flesh and eat his soul outside. "Alright, fine. Guess you might as well take it all." He can't look at you while he says it, but you sense his surrender-- or at least, his resignation. It's not exactly a victory, but it's something, and it pulls at your heartstrings.
"Alright, wizard boy. Hoodoo me up."
Constantine snorts, leaping up from the bench. "First we've got to get out of here. You're going to want to cover your eyes." He starts muttering an encantation and walking in a circle, sprinkling a powder on the ground from his pocket. "When this goes off we'll have ten minutes. Either of you assholes have a car nearby?"
"Yeah."
"Great. Hope you like to drive fast."
His chanting gets louder, and you see he's produced a lighter. He never uses it for cigarettes anymore, but portable fire to a magician has its uses. You can tell he's reaching the crescendo of his spell, and you scrunch your eyes closed. Even through your eyelids you see the flash, and the boom of a magical fireball that should have burned you all to dust.
However, only the things outside incinerate, their agonized cries echoing through the cavernous stone building.
"Let's move."
****
As it turns out, John Wick can drive very fast.
You already knew this, of course. Constantine, however, seems to be regretting his life choices as Wick weaves in and out of traffic, trying to find a hand hold as you are whipped around in the cramped back seat of the vintage Chevelle. He clenches his square jaw and glares daggers as Wick makes a quick left juke, the force of it pushing Constantine into the side of the car furthest from you.
You think it's a coincidence, until you meet John Wick's eyes in the rear-view mirror, and you see a glimmer of amusement. On anyone else, it would be all-out gut-busting laughter. You open your mouth to tell him to play nice, but Tex interrupts you—just like old times.
"3 o'clock," barks the cowboy assassin from the shotgun seat. It's fitting, because he quite literally has a sawed-off shotgun in his lap, something from Constantine's cabinet of goodies with arcane symbols scratched into the barrel. Tex and Constantine fought over this seat like it was worth a million dollars, and only the interruption of the literal Hell’s Angels roaring up on you on motorcycles re-focused their attention.
They’ve been trying to run you down for blocks like wolves on a caribou, and with a whip of Wick's wrist on the steering wheel, now you’re being pursued by one less. It over-corrects and crashes into a concrete barrier. Constantine laughs under his breath at the thing’s demise.
However, there are still three more to contend with.
“The club is just ahead,” directs Constantine. “Good luck finding parking.”
“Hold on.”
There's nothing to fucking hold on to in the bare bones back seat—except for Constantine, so that's what you do. He holds your hand with a white knuckled grip that betrays his nerves far more than his expression does
John tricks the motorcycle-riding demons by suddenly slowing down, then gunning the engine, running one over with a sudden burst of speed, then smacking the other two like a pinball flipper with a sudden shift and drift turn.
The car is totally fucked, but so are the hellspawn, so it feels like a win.
When one of them tries to stagger from the wreckage towards you Tex shoots it from out the window. The sound is deafening—and the ball of fire from the barrel of the gun makes you all jump.
“What the fuck is that, John?” you demand.
“Dragon's breath,” he answers you with a little smirk. “Nice work, Hee Haw. You should hunt demons instead of people.”
“What's the pay?”
“Absolute shit with possible stock options in Heaven.”
“No thank you then.”
The four of you pile out of the car and hustle towards the doors of Midnite's.
“This place is supposed to be neutral ground,” says Constantine, “but it's going to be full of demonic half-breeds, so walk fast and stick close.”
Tex turns to you with an incredulous frown. “Baby, I seriously gotta question your taste. Where did you find this wizard boy?”
Constantine looks at you with a smirk, no doubt thinking about your first animalistic tryst in that alleyway by the bar, and how he’d made you cum on his dick with your back chaffed by the hard bricks behind you, your legs wrapped desperately around his slender waist while he pounded inside your needy little cunt.
It had been glorious.
Just the memory of it floods you with a searing heat from your loins to regrettably, your cheeks.
Constantine loves it when he manages to make you blush, and a wicked gleam sparkles in his jetty dark irises.
“Shall I tell him, dear?”
You can tell that Tex’s head is about to explode.
“Not while he’s holding a fire-breathing shotgun, honey.”
Constantine has never really used lovey pet names with you before. It’s almost the weirdest thing that’s happened today.
As you push through the doors of the club it’s almost like entering another dimension, the red lights and bass thump of hedonistic music beyond, the steps down down down like a descent into a nether realm. The bouncer holds up his tarot card, the entrance exam, that Constantine passes like a breeze. “Rat in a dress.”
Bouncer turns to Wick and Tex with a new card, who look at Constantine with almost comical consternation. “They’re with me.”
“Still gotta pass.”
A beat later Constantine punches the burly bouncer out, shaking the sting off his hand. “Sorry,” he says to the unconscious man on the ground. To the rest of you, “Shit. Move fast.”
He bursts through the doors to the main club, striding with purpose on those beautiful long legs. You always feel too cool for school, when you’re on a magical side-quest with John. His broad shoulders part the crowd around you all, and when you’re with Constantine, everyone is looking at you. Half-breed angels, demons, and who knows what in between. Their eyes glow eerily in the low crimson light of the club.
Neither Wick nor Tex betray any fear or surprise at descending into this eldritch side of the City of Angels, intimidating towers at your back, glowering at anyone who looks your way.
Maybe it’s stupid, but in this moment you feel pretty fucking invincible.
It’s definitely stupid, because the creatures on Team Lucifer start to take an acute interest in Tex, their eyes glowing. Even you can feel them pressing closer around you. Constantine is standing at the tufted leather wall, what you know is an illusion hiding a door.
A tall, unfairly hot half-breed saunters into Tex’s personal space, reaching up to touch his cheek with a sultry come-hither smile. Succubus, is your guess, though the possibilities are literally endless. For a moment Tex seems utterly entranced, and it’s all you can do not to roll your eyes. “Sorry, he’s taken,” you say, pulling Tex back with your fingers in his tooled belt to sandwich him between you and Constantine.
Are they going to open the door for you or what? Any time now would be excellent…
Suddenly the half-breed seems a foot taller, looming over you with glowing red eyes. With your heart in your throat you hold up your amulet between you, and though she doesn’t exactly flinch and hiss like you’d hoped, you can tell she doesn’t care for it, her fine features twisting in a sneer like she tasted something nasty.
“Fine,” pouts the demoness. “Change your mind, handsome, you know where to find me.” She punctuates the offer with a flash of razor-sharp teeth before she saunters off with extra swing in her hips.
Tex makes a small sound of pain behind you as he watches her go, and you know he can’t help it. Desire is the Succubus’s power, and she was clearly hunting tonight. It doesn’t stop you from rolling your eyes though, turning to catch John Wick’s gaze. You can tell he’s keeping watch on the room, but he’s also got his eyes on you; that weighty, yearning look that never fails to tie your heart—and your lady parts—up in knots. A wholly inconvenient throb of lust between your legs makes you shift where you stand; suddenly you are soaked, so aware of the solid warmth of Tex at your back, and John towering before you.
Just like old times.
A part of you wants to reach for him, location be damned, an ingrained urge that would be a terrible idea at this time in this place, because if you touch him you’ll have to kiss him and who knows where that will end.
Jesus, was the succubus’s energy affecting you too? Or is it just…them?
There is a heady weight in the air, like something malevolent is about to descend upon you all. With your heart in your throat you clutch at the talisman around your neck, and though you’re not really sure which deity you’re entreating for salvation, you pray.
At last the door swings open, and Constantine finds your elbow, tugging you none too gently with him inside Papa Midnite’s inner sanctum. Naturally, where you go, the boys follow close behind.
“John Constantine,” says Papa Midnite in his melodic baritone. “Been some time. I see you’ve brought friends.”
“Wouldn’t go that far,” snarks Constantine with a baleful look at the two assassins at your back. “But I need your help.”
“The Great John Constantine needs my help?” mocks Papa. “Must be sometin’ bad.”
You’re not proud of the panic that rises in your throat at the sound of Midnite’s reluctance to help you. You know that pretty much everyone in the supernatural world has been pissed off at Constantine for some reason or another, but you pray this man can rise above his grudge. If not…Tex is fucked, and maybe it’s stupid after everything he did to you, but just the thought leaves a hollow ringing inside your heart.
You dare to peek around from Constantine’s imposing form. “Please, Papa?” you entreat, your eyes wide. You have met once before, and on that occasion the powerful witch doctor seemed to like you, though he didn’t cease to deride what a girl like you could possibly be doing with the likes of John Constantine. “We really need your help.”
Papa Midnite tilts his fedora-topped head to regard you with curiosity. He is wearing one of his delightfully loud shirts with a fur collared jacket. A gold necklace gleams against the dark skin of his throat. “Who needs my help, little girl? You, or him?” He points at Constantine with the jut of his chin.
“I do,” you both answer at the same time. You realize Constantine doesn’t want you to owe the powerful Bokor a favor—but you’re reading the room, and you’re pretty sure if the magic is for Constantine, Midnite is going to tell you all to pound rocks.
Midnite, understanding all of this, sits back in his throne of a chair with a little chuckle, drumming gold-bedecked fingers on the carved wooden arm.
“What is it you need?”
“A curse lifted,” answers Constantine. “And a spell cast.”
Midnite whistles at hearing that, and only then does his attention turn to the assassin at your back. “I can sense the dark mark from here,” says the witch doctor. “Let me see.”
With a grumble Tex pulls at his collar, pearl snap buttons popping to reveal the blackened circular pentacle, its 8 radii tipped with symbols, embedded beneath his skin. At the sight of it Midnite smirks, his eyebrows lifting high.
“Set thou a wicked one to be ruler over him, and let Satan stand at his right hand,” cites Midnite. “That a powerful curse t’set on someone, Constantine.”
“It was a heat of the moment thing,” grumbles the demon hunter.
“I can tell. Takes some big feeling, to conjure a curse like dis from thin air.”
That’s when Midnite looks at you, and that stupid blush of heat ambushes you again.
Feelings were not something you and John Constantine talked about. Sure, they were there, but you never really gave voice to them. You demonstrated them, physically, and often. Midnite seems bent on embarrassing both of you.
“Yeah, yeah,” grouses Constantine, only daring to glance in your direction. But in that single moment, the raw look on his face makes you feel like you need to sit down. “So can you lift it or not?”
“Course I can,” says Midnite dismissively. “What you bring me in return?”
“’Fraid I’ll have to owe you.”
“Hmm. I’ve heard that one too many times from the likes of you, Constantine. I’ll need somethin’ up front.”
“Do you like gold?” asks John Wick blandly, producing five glittering yellow coins from his pocket, setting them on the table in front of Papa Midnite in a neat stack one by one. The pretty tink tink tink of metal fills the air, and Midnite nods with his lips pursed, paying Wick an approving look. However, as he examines the death’s head emblazoned token, it is you he speaks to.
“How did a nice girl like you get tangled up wit Underworld boys like dis?”
A shuddering sigh escapes you, as a montage of the absolute fire you walked through to get to this moment flashes in your mind. The murder, the kidnapping, the chaos and corruption. The passion, the pleasure, and the quieter moments that made you think you might be content to stay with your Boys forever—until they forced you to go.
“It’s a long story, Papa,” you answer, barely able to raise your voice over a whisper.
“Some other time, you’ll tell me, then. Step into my office.”
Midnite leads you to his back room, a cavernous space built in the breathtakingly ornate style of the Moorish palaces of Andalusia. At first you don’t know where to look. The arabesque carved walls, the scalloped arches, the honeycomb vaulted ceilings, or the cacophony of antique relics stacked high on all sides. There are statues and busts and boxes and dolls, this and that and bric-a-brac and every category of precious old junk you can imagine, is here. Your eye is drawn to an old wooden chair against the far wall with leather straps that for some reason gives you chills.
The center of the room is empty, the demarked circle where Midnite performs his workings outlined with bones, half-burnt candles, and rusty lines on the tiles that look like blood.
“Now then,” says Midnite, taking a sip from a bottle of dark rum before offering it to Tex. “Drink up, man. Dis not gonna feel good.”
***
When all is said and done, the four of you all feel like pieces of chewed up gum. You are utterly wiped, and it’s all you can do not to fall asleep in the back of the car with your head on Constantine’s shoulder. Fingering your new tattoo, a mystical symbol that binds Tex Johnson and John Wick to your will, you think on what Papa Midnite said to you before your departure.
“Hard to live with a heart divided in three pieces, girl. You playin’ a dangerous game.”
“It’s not a game to me, Midnite. It’s just…my life, somehow.”
“Dat fair. So you know, I told that silly boy of yours to put a ring on your finger ‘fore he lost the chance. Never seen him like dis, wit any other.”
You’d paid him a grim smile, amused at the thought of Constantine asking you to be his wife. What a laughable prospect. Sweet, but there was no way he felt that about you. “Are you telling me not to break your friend’s heart, Midnite?”
He’d snorted and taken a drink of rum. “I know better than that. But you might tink about what he’ll turn into, if tings go badly.”
Truth be told, you didn’t want to think on that, because it terrified you. All you wanted right now, was to curl up in the bed you shared with John Constantine, and sleep for about seven years.
Midnight had given you a herbal potion that had to be administered to Tex every six hours for a week, and a magical salve to apply to the burn upon his chest where the symbol had, at one point, burst into white-hot flame. You’d feared he’d been at death’s door, until he took your hand with a smirk and mumbled half to you, half to himself, “The things I do for my little rattlesnake.” It had squeezed your heart with a fist, utterly wrecked you, and you knew you couldn’t kick him to the curb just yet.
You were headed back to Constantine’s house, (which you had helped him get together the down payment for, with no strings attached, so…) and the four of you would have to figure out how to co-exist, at least until Tex was back on his feet.
Then…who the fuck knew what was going to happen.
You’d think about that, tomorrow.
Tammykelly:
- a flashback -
Sleep long forfeited to yet another night full of vigorous dance that is the celebration of passion and ever growing connection and affection between two souls who’d found one another amidst chaos that unfailingly enters one’s life book when it flips through the pages onto the next chapter. Gradually, chaos learns the code of order, tamed by the new rules and beginnings, sought after by you and Constantine in an unhasty pace.
You feel the blossom of his soft lips on yours for a while, before you pull away to take a long look at him, running your fingers along his sweaty forehead and through his slightly damp hair. He feels his chest tighten at the way your gaze moves across his tilted up face and lingers on his eyes, entering beyond the physical and reaching for subliminal.
“Hi”, - Constantine croaks, his arms draped around your waist, steadying you, as your heated bodies stay impossibly close.
“Hey, baby”, - you breathe out, your touch leaves traces on his skin in feather-like movements, making his heart flutter.
“You call me that like it means something”, - he wonders out loud.
It must be true, that the eyes are the windows to the soul, for when he says that, you feel the heat of your body grow stronger when his irises light up with an inexplicably warm spark that transforms into the taste of him on your ever waiting lips, while your hips drag out the sensually slow pace. You try to find the perfect rhythm again, having felt yourself folding under the intensity with which your heart blooms and expands every time his dark eyes capture yours.
“I…uh…I’m….”, - you blurt out, the right words stuck at the edge of the said sacred dilation.
Maybe it is love. Love that sprouts across the silver lining that is the tenuous punchline between sanity and deliberate madness of passion. Constantine’s body reacts to yours before his mind has to think about it, as he gently tugs you closer. He doesn’t let you finish, his lips connecting to yours, catching your love on his tongue in a long deliciously flavorful kiss.
He touches your bullet scar, his jawline playing, his eyes darkening.
“They’re gonna pay for what they did to you”, - he quietly tells you again, voice filled with determination that invites more ephemeral warmth into your chest.
“They already did”, - you reply, reminiscence of their absence dissipating into the background of your subconscious when your tongue slides along Constantine’s jaw, tasting tiny droplets of sweat.
“They gotta pick someone their size, yeah?”
His reply makes you smile: “Please, we’ve talked about this, baby”, you feel goosebumps arise at the back of his neck at the nickname, no matter how nonchalant he wants to appear each time you call him a random pet name.
“You care about them? Even after everything they’ve done to you?” - his raspy voice is low but the tone sets a prelude to a gradually boiling point.
“They’re the best I’ve ever had”, he leans back and quirks his eyebrow at your tease, “after you, of course”, you add, smirking.
He lets out a sigh of frustration: “Jesus, it’s like talking to a fucking brick wall”, you feel his fingers dig deeper into your soft skin. You lean closer, your breath over his mouth.
“Calling God’s name when you’re balls deep in me?” your voice akin to a purr, “what a profanity”, a smirk curls up.
“Mhhmm, funny thing is He made this happen”, Constantine’s tone matches your game.
“And is Jesus present in the room with us?” your head tilts.
“Oh, you think it’s funny?” he bucks his hips up.
“You literally just said it is”, an involuntary moan escapes your mouth, lost in the grunt of the man underneath you, when you match his cheat code with a harsh movement of your own.
“It’s an expression”.
“Okay and?”
“Watch your mouth”, - Constantine’s eyes transform into a pair of two burning coals, sending shivers across your whole body, accompanied by the way his fingertips trace down your spine.
You can barely make a sound due to his manipulations: “Can’t read minds, baby”, making it his turn to shudder.
“What, don’t have any better ideas?” he recuperates, the warmth of his arms leave you, as he places his hands behind him on the bed to support his weight. You don’t wait to connect your mouth to his, your teeth sinking into his lower lip before you lightly tug at it and let go. A cocky grin instantaneously leaves his handsome face when he feels your tongue crash into his mouth, which he reciprocates with twice as much force and eagerness, his arms lock back around your waist, and he notices a triumphant smile display itself on your features.
“An angel risen from ashes picked up by the devil reborn”, you answer his question, teasing the idea of which one’s which when you first met. Him - a cancer free phoenix-like angel of death, or you - a devilishly sweet temptress, who, unbeknownst to herself, exchanged two deadly ghosts for the black cat of a man, stuck in between both realms.
You continue: “He always had a rotten sense of humour. And His punch lines are killers”, Constantine’s gaze darkens at the mention of your ghosts.
“Ha-ha, very funny”, his tone less than amused.
“Oh, you find this funny now?” you bite his neck, which makes a deep husky groan erupt from his throat.
“Don’t tell me you believe this fate bullshit”, you say, as you fight the urge to speed up your pace to chase the way his sultry sounds bounce around your insides.
His low growl nearly shatters your self control when he tells you: “Fate or not, you’re mine now. Mine”, you feel his teeth sink into your skin, “you hear me?”, his gaze when he looks up akin to the explosion of a sleeping volcano underneath an already blazing ocean, edging you onto the border of a slippery slope that is the point of no return once you process the 3 magic words that are glued to your tongue.
Instead two short words roll off, as a soft moan:“Yes, baby”.
“Gonna give you everything you want”, you feel his hands roam all over your body, “all of me”.
You lean back.
“All of you?”- your expression flickers with darkness, showing him your devilish desire, as his silent gaze shaves off the outer layers down to your core.
“You son of a bitch”, you breathe out, smiling, after a brief pause, for your racing heartbeat shifts to a contracting and pulsating firework, overtaking all of your senses. You study his handsome face, drinking in all the details you’ve grown so attached to, florescence of affection tugging your lips upwards in a gentle smile.
Constantine’s eyes set the fire in the pit of your belly ablaze on the scale that you’re sure will be the death of you some day, for being with him is like Heaven on Earth and being apart now seems like a cruel tool of a ghostly destruction.
His playful grin pulls you back in: “Calling me a son of a bitch when I got you on my dick? You’re brave, kitten”.
“That’s exactly why I can call you that. You’re my son of a bitch”, you grab his hair and give it a nice pull before you lean down to lick up his neck, placing a gentle kiss right under his ear, feeling him twitch inside you, “and Devil’s right hand, yeah?”
“More like his puppet”, Constantine grunts, as you look down at him, sensing him barely able to maintain the slow[ish] pace you’ve set, holding onto the last threads of self-restraint.
“So, no rewards for that, I suppose?”, you tease further, testing the limits of the mind games he’s been playing with you all day long.
“Afraid not, angel”.
“Let me be the one to send you to Heaven then”, you whisper right against his ear and kiss his temple.
All the blurry lines of will power come tumbling down, when the sound of him sucking air through his teeth enters your inner space, as Constantine’s hand finds its place between your jawline and neck.
Gradually, you encourage his index and middle fingers between your lips, his irises unable to focus anywhere else but the way you take them in, his whole body akin to a molten liquid metal, his fingers melting on your tongue. You giddily lick them, your tongue swirling around them, playing with his digits like lollipop toys, until you let go and take care of the saliva under Constantine’s furnace of a carnally hungry gaze.
You feel your hips stuttering against the increasing pace, when you hear his raspy voice: “Fuck, kitten, you feel like Heaven”, the energy between your bodies and feverish kisses multiplying in increasingly all consuming vehement abundance that can crack the earth open.
“Touché”.
A half smile coats his lips at your cute quip.
“Watch”, you tell him, his eyes shifting to the mirror somewhere behind you.
The heat of his hips rolling against yours at the speed that finds you both panting and sweaty messes is more than enough for him to tip over the edge but as his eyes take in the scene of your power over him, his body proceeds to come apart under you when your fingers wrap around his throat and apply pressure, slightly tipping his face up.
“Open”, you say, your thumb glazing over his soft lips, and he raises an eyebrow, “don’t you wanna cum, baby?”, you sweetly inquire.
“Fuck”, his voice is barely audible, Constantine’s eyes glimmer under your watchful lust, the darkness in the depth of the bottomless abyss that is him transcending what has become of his power over you. His eyelids flutter slightly, as your spit falls on his tongue.
“Swallow”, you reward him with a particularly harsh snap of your hips, seeing his Adam’s apple bobble.
“You’re gonna pay for that”, he growls.
“You’re a drama queen, you know that?”, you point out, leaving a love-bite mark on his collarbone, knowing damn well at the way he’s twitching inside you, he won’t be lasting long. You smirk, as you slow down the pace to a damn near full stop, eliciting a low and deep whine from him.
What the fuck, his eyes show you, roaming over your face hungrily.
“Tell me how much you want me”, you purr, feeling his fingers next to your scalp, tugging you closer.
“Fuck, angel, wanna feel you so bad”, an angelically evil smile plays on your face at his response, “need you on biblical level”, he finishes, the butterflies inside you catching aflame, their fiery wings spreading across every fibre of your being.
Constantine feels like he might go insane without you, your whole existence being the lone salvation he’s been seeking his entire life. He twitches again.
“Say that again”, your sultry tone pervades his mind, the pace picking up just a tiny bit.
“Need you to move, right now”, he begs.
You look at him expectantly.
“I can’t control myself any longer. Please, fuck me”, he looks up into your eyes that have turned into blazingly bright gates to the oblivion that is his path to purgatory. His gaze diverts back to the mirror and your goddess-like form against his.
“God, you’re sexy when you beg”, you whisper, Constantine can practically hear the cocky smirk in your voice, as a loud moan erupts from his throat, while he watches himself get ruined by everything that is you.
“I wanna hear how good I’m making you feel”, you exhale, listening to the way your name exits his lips akin to a gust of wind, blowing across an infinite ocean.
“Cheeky little girl”, he barely replies between the chain-smoke of moans.
“Fuck you”, you breathe out.
“Say no more”, he chuckles, his lips and teeth leaving bruises all over your sensitive chest, his hips meeting yours at an increasingly high speed.
“Fuck me harder”, he growls, his lips soliciting moans from yours.
“What a good girl”, he purrs and smiles against your neck, feeling your speed folding, as you attempt to gain the upper hand.
“My beautiful angel”, Constantine praises, kissing down the valley of your breasts, enjoying every single breathless moan that you leave for him to treasure, “you’re doing so well”, he continues, “I love it when you fuck me like this”, his lips graze yours before another storm of a kiss unfolds itself.
“Oh, yeah?”
“So good, I need you to fuck me like this every day”, his teeth tug your lower lip and let go, his open-mouth kiss then imprinting a picture of his love for you on your tongue.
“Need this pussy for breakfast, lunch and fucking dinner”, - a husky growl of his makes your insides deliciously twist.
“Say less”, you giggle after the kiss breaks apart, only for a yet another wave of kissing, biting, hair pulling and power play, resembling a balanced match, surpass the two of you.
You feel as if the sun that is the man, obeying your all desires, is scorching you with a strong nurturing vitality, meeting you halfway anytime you slip.
The sun, sometimes deadly, shining its light on you and sharing the experience of birth of the stars with you, until all you and Constantine know is that you can’t tell where one begins and the other ends.
“Cum for me, baby”, you whisper, your eyes hazily gazing into his.
“Fuck”, he moans into your mouth, as you and him become one in an endless explosion of lustful starlight.
You both take a moment to steady your breathing, the pulses of your bodies streaming along the lines of your silhouettes akin to the red string of fate. Suddenly, you feel yourself getting lifted and plopped on the bed, the heavy weight hovers above you.
“My turn”, Constantine growls, worshipping you and your body in a form of myriad of kisses, adoring your skin.
“I’m not finished with you”, you chuckle, pulling his face to yours.
“Wanna ride your pretty face so badly”, you breathe out shakily, watching his pupils dilate, turning his dark chocolate eyes into jet-black colour of the night outside your windows.
He kisses you deeply before teasing: “Should’ve said sooner, princess”, and flips you.
Before you know it, his lips are connected to your nether ones, placing sweet kisses on God’s bewitching and intricate creation.
“Oh, fuck!”, a scream leaves your mouth, as you lose control over your limbs when Constantine demonstrates his vicious payback for all of your previous manipulations, the delirious temptation to play him exiting your body like it was never there.
The way his tongue devours you till the last drop like a man starved, you assume you’re not the only one losing yourself to this trick of devilish pleasure, pulling you deeper into the whirlpool that keeps expanding wave by wave until it comes thundering through your body like a tsunami, then crashing onto a shore over and over, the sound of your screams mixing with the magnitude of Constantine’s sonic savouring of your most precious parts till his immeasurable hunger for all divinity that is you is satiated beyond your limits.
Songs for the delulu meal:
The best I ever had by Limi
Obsessed by Zandros ft. Limi
Dangerous woman Call out my name mix
Treedaddymcpuffpuff:
You don’t know if it’s some kind of magic, or if you’re just this petty. But, damn, that succubus did piss you off. Even worse than her, with her silky black hair and sweet milk skin and inviting, rosy eyes and cheeks.. You catch yourself mid thought, determined to pluck her from your brain.
Yes, even worse than that half breed bitch - Jesus, who are you? - was watching Tex suffer and bleed. Blue lips forming around a silent scream; a beg for the ritual to stop. Tan, supple skin turned ashen gray and tented. Dark eyes blown milky and wild with terror.
There’s another memory you have to get rid of somehow: Tex dying a slow, grueling death in some hellish, accelerated time loop. In front of you. Powerless you.
You have his take home medications clutched tightly to your torso as the Johns lug him inside, one under each arm, his feet stumbling and dragging so much that Wick decides to just pick him up.
Why in the world did that make you so delighted? To see John Wick carrying Tex Johnson bridal style across Constantine’s threshold?
Your smile wipes clean, though, when you realize that Tex has not made a witty quip or even grinned at this show of brotherhood. John deposits him on the couch, and you sit on the floor beside, holding his hand. Your stomach lodges into your chest when you feel how cold he is. Your human heater turned ice box.
“Tex,” you say softly, brushing the untamed thicket of hair from his eyes.
He keeps his eyes closed, but that fond little tick of his mouth lets you know he hears you loud and clear.
You swallow your pride. “I missed you, too.”
You hope to God he’ll harass you for saying that, later.
For now, a grunt will suffice.
This man has put you through hell, but fuck, if he hasn’t been heaven all the way through it. You had really thought he was dying back there, and it…. put things into perspective.
Wick is in the kitchen dwarfing the tiny dining table with Constantine. Not talking, not even looking at one another. Some kind of tension exists between them, but at least it’s not the awkward or homicidal kind… well, at least as far as you can tell.
You grab some cold bourbon from the fridge, pour 3 glasses, and dish them out. Then, you hop up on the counter and join this sinewy silence game.
Wick breaks the skin, twin eyes meeting Constantine’s. “Thank you,” he says.
Constantine grins tightly. “Consider it repayment.”
“For?”
Oh, here we fucking go.
Constantine, the bastard prodigy of Lucifer himself - or, he might as well be - doesn’t answer, instead nudging his chin and shoulder toward you, as if you’re some prize Wick handed to him on a silver platter.
Now, you don’t really know what to expect from John. Fiercely protective, aloof John. But it’s definitely not a grin. A fucking grin. Yeah, he really has gone totally batshit. Terrifying.
Constantine looks stumped, and so do you.
“I’m gonna get going,” Wick says, standing and draping his jacket around his arms. You get a strong wiff of delicious leather and diesel and gunpowder.
“You’re leaving?” This comes out of your mouth before you can stop it.
“Yeah.”
“What about Tex?”
“I’ll be near.”
No use fronting now.
“What if something happens? What if we need you -“
Constantine cuts off your increasingly frantic voice. “I think you should stay.”
It’s Wick’s turn to look stumped. He raises a dark eyebrow. Constantine rewords.
“Please. Stay. We may need you.” Constantine looks over at you, giving that you owe me leer.
Your nerves settle when Wick puts his jacket back on the rack and slips his shoes off, looking at you all the while.
John Wick sleeps in the little broom closet turned guest room, and you and Constantine retire to your bedroom. This place is purely a you sanctuary, with incense burners and tapestries and little trinkets you’ve collected from your travels. It’s a souvenir from your limited therapy sessions, and a much needed safe space.
Before you can shut the bedroom door, you hear John’s monotone voice turn doting. It reminds you of being soothed through an orgasm, him cradling you when you cried - the hum that disarms and breaks you.
You go to him, peaking inside the narrow door that he had to duck to get through. Killy is rubbing against Wick’s torso, purring, headbutting, her tiny fluffy body practically vibrating from the attention of his big hand.
He smiles at you. “Who’s this?”
“Oh, meet Baby Killy. She’s so shy usually.”
“Pretty kitty,” John coos, scratching behind her ears as she chirps for him.
Great, you’re jealous of a cat. Which is stupid because you have a whole other man in the next room that can’t keep his hands off you. You’re selfish, you realize.
“Sorry it’s not comfortable,” you tell Wick, looking at his calves hanging off the tiny mattress. “I can buy an air mattress.”
He twirls Killy’s tail softly around his finger. “It’s fine, y/n. Get some rest.”
“Yeah. Night John.” You leave him, pretending it’s not reluctantly.
Constantine is already in his boxers, cigarette nipped between his teeth. You pluck it from him and take a long drag. “Thought we were supposed to be quitting?” Blowing smoke over his lips.
He tugs you down into the bed with him. “I’ve had a long day.”
“Aw, poor thing.” You kiss his jaw, shimmying the white stick back into his mouth.
Your lips trail feather light down his quivering throat, nose pausing, nuzzling against his quickening pulse. A shy, involuntary smile slides into his collarbone divot. Your magic man shivers under you, makes you feel like you can kick God’s ass if it really comes down to it.
He gently fists your hair in his fingers while you suck the hard day off his skin, hand trailing south on his tight twitching tummy, lazily perusing in search of a swelling, sensitive, beautiful cock trapped in cloth.
He smushes the half cigarette out in your little pearlescent ashtray, tips your face up, kisses you soft. Kisses you like you like you’re some being of fleeting, fragile light and hope. “Hey.”
“Hey.” You grin against his mouth, using that familiar formal, ironic greeting that he favors when you’re both wading knee deep into eachother’s personal space already.
You pull away to look down at his tenting boxers, but your eyes snag something on the way. A big, fresh bruise to his opposite collar - wide and diffuse as if from a large hand. It’s normal for Constantine to have bruises, and he did fight demons today. But this mark? Fresh. Just blooming. Plus, the only one on his long, expansive body.
Your mind thinks back to the kitchen, how they were both so quiet. Looking far too innocent. You feel stupid for not expecting this.
“Did John hit you?” You’ve gotten really good at talking before thinking. Just one of many Constantine mannerisms you’ve picked up along the journey of knowing him.
“We talked.”
You go to get up. No plan in mind except hurting Wick. Really hurting him. Either with words or a quicker fist than he can catch. Probably the latter, since John excels at catching fists, but you still think you can slice him just as much with a few well placed sentences. Of course, you could also try out this nifty new spell of submission..
Constantine holds you in place. “I started it.”
“I don’t give a fuck.” You see him wince at the sinister growl in your voice, and your spiked fur smooths a little bit if only for his benefit. “He’s a fucking asshole. He thinks he can just bully people into submission. Let’s see how he likes it.” You’re talking loud enough that you hope Wick can hear it. You know he’s not scared… because it’s John Wick, but, you at least hope he knows you’re coming for his throat.
“Angel.” Constantine’s long, careful fingers cup your face. “It’s alright. Not tonight. Let you kick his ass tomorrow, okay? Right now, I need you with me. Hey, look at me…. There you are. You hearing me?”
You lean into his touch and kiss his wrist. “Yeah, okay.”
“C’mon.” He pats his chest and you lay your head on it. “Now, where were we..”
You give a little chuckle. “In the pit of despair?”
He gathers your hair and pulls it off your shoulder, tickles his fingers over your neck. “I think…” he murmurs.
“Yeah?” It thrills and scares you a little bit that this man can make such a breathy, desperate mess of you from just a tiny touch.
“Think you should put on some pajamas and let me read to you.”
Suddenly, your anger runs dry, replaced by excitement. He laughs at your hopeful, mystified expression.
“You’re gonna read to me?”
“Yeah, yeah. Better hurry before I change my mind.”
You love it when Constantine reads to you, always mesmerized by that smooth, baritone voice, and it’s not often that he’s up for it.
You don’t bother going into the bathroom to get dressed, which you can tell he appreciates. You can also tell that he loves the fact that you bypass your own clothes entirely and instead throw on one of his big flannels.
You cuddle beside him, wrap your arms around his waist and tuck in for your after dark entertainment.
“Hey, hey, Angel.” It takes you a minute to open your eyes. Constantine assists this process with a pleasant rub between your shoulder blades and a hushed voice.
“Huh?” Your voice is groggy, far away, brain still swimming in twilight.
Constantine gives you a patient stretch of time to wake and groan and wipe the spare drool from your chin. The blue dawn outside tells you that it’s early - way too early. You don’t remember falling asleep, and it must have been a glorious one judging by your wicked bed head and sore voice.
“What? What’s going on?”
“Clint Eastwood won’t let James Bond give him his medicine. He says he wants you to do it.”
“Are you serious?” You ask.
Constantine opens his mouth, then shuts it again. He sighs. “Yeah.”
“What the fuck,” you mumble.
Tex, eyes open, sitting up, cat on his lap, looks at you like you’re the greatest thing since sliced bread. Big, appreciative grin. You can’t be annoyed for too long when you see that he has color back in his face.
“Hello, nurse.”
Damn his infectious grin. “What? John’s not a good enough nurse for you?”
“He’s alright. Not very cute, though.” He sizes you up as you roll your eyes and snort.
He gives you a little wink. “See you still hate wearin your own clothes.”
You look down at yourself - at the big cozy button flannel that falls mid thigh with nothing else on under or over it. You really didn’t even think about how exposed you were when you got up and came out here. But, now, you’re flushing and shifting on your feet.
“Oh, don’t get shy on me now, rattlesnake. I’ve had all of it in my mouth anyway, yeah?”
Sinful reels flit through your memories. And, fuck you, but even that makes you so wet you can feel it in the crease of your thighs already.
The reality hits you that this could be a thing, somehow: Johnson and the Johns with you pressed between. You short circuit thinking about it for a solid twenty seconds.
Tex chuckles, pets Killy. “Your momma’s too easy,” he tells her, and the traitor purrs and merrs and pushes into his doting palm as if in agreement.
Great, two treasonous pussy’s in this house.
Plus, you’re about ninety nine percent sure Constantine will do more than curse them if he sees their hands on you in any carnal way. Even though this thing between the two of you is unestablished and unlabeled, your magic man is more than a little possessive.
You remember, fondly, the time he pissed you off, so you went on a date with a nice young gentleman who also happened to be a cop - Johnny, you think his name was. Jesus fuck, you really do have issues - and Constantine blew every fuse in that restaurant with a spell. In the pitch black, no one saw him come pick you right up and carry you out. That night started with “fuck you, Constantine” and ended with “no no agh fuck please m’ sorryjohnsosorry.”
Wick’s nowhere to be found, which you don’t really mind. If you see him again, you might just try kicking him in the dick. You mix Tex’s medicines in the kitchen, heating up the thick herbal soup in a little pot. It smells bad, kinda like fish, draws Killy’s attention really quick.
She brushes against your legs and reminds you that she’s hungry and that oh, that smells good, mom.
You scoop her out a cup of kitty kibble while the stove simmers, then give her a few pets. It’s not often that she’s so doting on you - she prefers Constantine and solidarity over your company. But, she must know something’s up - either that or it’s the fishy concoction steaming up your little kitchen.
Tex winces when you rub the salve into his burn. It looks awful - dry and necrotic, little charred skin flakes sticking to your fingertips.
You scrub them off on a towel, grimacing. “Does this hurt?”
“Numb,” he shrugs. Reaches out to tuck hair behind your ear. Your body reacts violently and insistently. Constantine’s touch, pleasant and warm and diffuse; that’s what you’re used to. You forgot about Tex’s sharp edges, the scary thrill of him. Like the first drop of the roller coaster.
“Tex,” you warn.
“Sorry, darlin. Just so fuckin pretty. Forgot how beautiful you are, is all. How good ya smell. Christ, even with Houdini’s scent all over you.” He pinches your chin in his fingers and makes you look at him, at the sincerity in his blown black pupils and hooded, lustful gaze. “He eatin your pussy right, huh? Need me to show him how to do it?”
“You know,” you say, hating yourself for the thick in your voice, “I have this nifty new spell I can use…”
He chuckles. “Settle down, honeypie, I’m just trying to be nice, is all.”
“Nice.” You glare at him and he lets you go.
The fishy stuff in the mug wipes the grin right off Tex’s face. He chokes and sputters. “Good God, what in hell’s name is this Guacala shit.”
You smile at him and take the empty cup. “Every six hours, cowboy.”
On your way back into the bedroom, he watches you unabashedly. Killy is back on his lap. “You got a shower here, rattlesnake?”
“Bathroom’s down the hall,” you tell him.
“Think I need some help.”
“Uh huh. You can manage.”
“Alright, you got me. I don’t really need help I just wanna fuck the shit outta ya.”
“Sorry, Tex, but that’s-“ you look pointedly at the purring feline in his lap -“the only pussy you’ll be getting in this house.”
You shut your door before you can catch his mumble: “we’ll just see about that.”
Constantine is in his study. You debate going and fucking him on the desk chair, working off this sticky arousal coating your cunt and inner thighs. But, also, you’re still sleepy, and laying down in the bed already has your eyelids fluttering closed and brain going mushy. You struggle between options until your body eventually decides for you.
You wake up to the delicious evocation of salt and fat and heat. John Wick is back. He’s in the kitchen cooking one of those five star breakfasts that are worth letting him live. For now.
Bread pops up from the toaster, startling you. “Hey, that’s been broken.”
“Fixed it,” he says, dexterously flipping his pan. “Got the faucet to work in the bathroom sink. Your drain’s here are built wrong. I’m gonna take a look after I finish breakfast. There’s fresh orange juice and chocolate milk in the fridge. Coffee on the warmer.”
“That’s not my coffee pot.” You eye the expensive looking, silver, sleek appliance with steaming black, delicious smelling brew under.
“I got a new one.”
Are you really surprised at this point? You grab some orange juice from the fridge, and find the once bare shelves stocked and organized with fresh fruits and veggies, eggs and jams, healthy pre-made snack boxes.
The cupboards have also magically filled themselves with canned fruits and veggies, organic breads, high end trail mixes, protein bars.
The place is spotlessly clean. New microwave, an ice maker beside the stove. Real glasses and plates stacked in the cupboards.
Wick has been busy, it seems.
Constantine walks into the kitchen, paying attention to the newspaper in his hand instead of his surroundings until he sees you. “Hey, Angel-“ looks up, takes in the practically brand new kitchen. “What in the fuck.”
#wicked johnson fic#john wick#john wick x reader#john wick x you#john wick fic#john wick x y/n#keanu reeves x reader#yandere john wick#tex johnson#tex johnson x reader#tex johnson x you#yandere tex johnson#constantine x you#john constantine x you#constantine 2005#john constantine x reader#constantine x reader#keanu reeves
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Turning Tables - Kevin Lomax, John Constantine X You.
Kevin Lomax returns home after a long day and finds you waiting for him. But what happens when you moan the wrong name?
As Kevin walks through the front door of your luxurious New York penthouse, he hears the sound of classical music playing softly in the background and catches the scent of his favorite perfume lingering in the air. He can't help but smile, knowing that you're waiting for him after another long day at the law firm. The demanding workload and competitiveness of Manhattan can be exhausting but knowing that you're there to come home to makes it all worth it. You're sitting on the couch, a glass of wine in your hand, looking absolutely stunning in a silk dress that clings to your curves.
You stand up as he approaches, your eyes sparkling with desire. "Kevin, I've missed you," you say, almost whispering. You pull him close, and your lips meet in a passionate kiss. Your hands run through his hair, gripping it tightly as you devour each other's mouths, tasting the sweet wine that still lingers on your lips. You both stumble towards the bedroom, your clothes quickly discarded along the way, eager to feel each other's skin.
Once you and Kevin reach the bed, you push him down onto the soft mattress, straddling him with your legs wide open. You lean down, trailing kisses across his chest, nibbling on his chest, and teasing his nipples with your tongue. His hands clutch at the fabric of your dress, pulling it up and revealing your lace panties. He takes a moment to admire your body, the way your skin glows under the dim light of the room. His fingers trace along your hips, making their way towards the waistband of your panties, eager to feel your warmth.
As he slides your panties to the side, he is greeted by the sight of your perfectly shaved pussy, glistening with arousal. He leans in, licking his lips in anticipation, and begin to feast on your clit. You arch your back, moaning his name as his tongue delves deep into your wet folds. Your hands are tangled in his hair, guiding him as he licks and suck on your clit, taking it between his lips and flicking it with his tongue.
Your breaths grow heavier, and so do Kevin's. You're so close, he can tell. He continues to devour you, his mouth working in perfect rhythm with your body. And then, it happens. You let out a loud moan, your body trembling as you exhaled his name - or so he thought. Instead, you cry out, "John!"
Kevin's head snaps up, searching your face for an explanation. Your eyes are closed, still lost in the throes of pleasure, oblivious to the mistake you've made. His heart races, a mixture of anger and confusion coursing through his veins. How could you do this to him? How could you think of another man while he is pleasuring you like this?
But he doesn't voice his thoughts. Instead, he seizes you by the wrists and flips you onto your stomach, positioning himself behind you. "Who's your husband?" he growls, thrusting deep inside you from behind. Your body jolts at the sudden change in position, but you don't have time to protest. He claims you, his cock pounding into you relentlessly, each thrust echoing with the force of his dominance.
"Say my name," he demands, his voice rough with emotion. "Say it!"
You gasp, your voice shaking as you respond, "Kevin…oh, Kevin, please."
He continues to fuck you harder, his thrusts growing more furious with each passing second. "Again!" he orders, his teeth gritted. "Say it and mean it!"
You tremble beneath him, your breaths ragged. "Kevin…Kevin…"
he leans down, whispering into your ear, "Now, scream it for me."
Your orgasm is close, and so is his. You moan his name, louder this time, as he drives himself into you, feeling your pussy tighten around his cock. "Yes, that's it," He groans, his voice low and gravelly. "Say it again, like you mean it!"
You cry out his name once more, your body convulsing as your climax washes over you. He follows suit, his release filling you up as he buries himself inside you, claiming you as his. Your bodies collide, your hearts pounding in unison as you both ride out the aftermath of your intense encounter.
Finally, you and Kevin collapse onto the bed, your breaths mingling as you recover. He rolls onto his back, pulling you onto his chest, your naked body pressed against his. "You'll never forget my name again," He promises, his hands caressing your skin. "Never."
You nod, your face buried in his chest, the scent of your arousal mixing with the perfume of your skin. "I'm sorry, Kevin," you whisper. "It won't happen again."
"I hope not," He replies, running his fingers through your hair. "Because next time, I might not be as forgiving." He pauses to think for a moment before saying, "Gimme your phone. Right now." He gazes into your eyes and sees your unease; he has a nagging feeling that's making him feel sick already. He knows you too well.
You hesitate, but eventually hand over your phone, knowing that he is serious. He scrolls through the contacts, his eyes scanning for any sign of your ex, John Constantine. His heart races as he finds his number. He clicks on his contact info, Kevin’s blood boiling at the sight of John's photo. It's a picture of John in a button-up shirt and black pants, smirking at the camera smoking a cigarette with an air of arrogance.
"I knew it," he mutters, a low growl escaping him. "Why is his number still here?"
"Kevin," you say, trying to take the phone from his grasp. "Please, let go of my phone."
He shakes his head, holding onto the device tightly. "No. I want to see everything. All the messages, the calls, everything."
Reluctantly, you allow him to dig deeper into your phone's history. Your relationship has been rocky lately, but he never imagined this level of betrayal. As he scrolls through the messages, his chest tightens with each passing second. There are countless texts, some flirtatious, others suggesting meetings. And then, he finds the pictures. Intimate photos of you and John together, touching, kissing.
TO BE CONTINUED....
#keanu reeves#keanuverse#keanu reeves x reader#john constantine x you#john constantine imagine#john constantine x reader#john constantine 2005#kevin lomax imagines#kevin lomax x reader#kevin lomax x you#KEVIN LOMAX
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y/n: john, can i get a drag of your-?
john: no, you can't lass.
y/n: then what's the point of being around you all the time if i can't even have a smoke?
john: nobody asked you to stick around, luv.
y/n: fine, then i'll leave you all by yourself
john: *stays silent*
john: bloody hell, here. have the rest of it, i don't fucking care if you wanna kill yourself.
john wants you around, he won't say it but he shows it in his own way, mentor!john constantine my little pookie ):
#brainrot marita#john constantine#john constantine imagine#john constantine fluff#mentor!john constantine#john constantine x you#john constantine x reader#hellblazer
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Torturous
John Constantine x Batfam!Reader
A/N: somebody tell me why the only cartoon john constantine gifs i could find were this one AND THE KING SHARK ONE 😭😭 bloody hilarious man. anyways, this is for the anon who asked for john x batfam reader recs and i found tumblr LACKING. here u go ladies and germs. Gender-neutral reader, no physical attributes included, they/them pronouns.
also, john is like ?? old asf ?? so let's just say he's a solid 32 and reader is 27. for context, dick is 28 and Jason is 24, tim case duke and steph are like 17-19, damian is 14. and Bruce is somewhere around 50. btw not proofread.
soz for the long a/n, thank u for reading and enjoy!!
KEEP READING (im on mobile and it's not working so ill add it in later)
How did it come to this?
It had been torturous enough working with your family and John Constantine, but now you were sure he was trying to tease you.
Batman didn't like calling him for cases involving magic, he'd much prefer Zatanna, but she was away for whatever reason and there was no time to waste waiting for her to get back from god-knows-where.
But you guarantee you were more annoyed by John's presence. Merely seeing him pissed you off, and his laidback, flirty nature made it all the worse.
And no, it wasn't because you hated him. In fact, it was the complete opposite.
Sneaking around behind your family's back to see your Romeo was a chore, and not something you had the liberty of doing often with your myriad of vigilante duties and commitments to adult life. Visiting John and spending time with him was rare and something you treasured. Whether it be in some nostalgia-ridden English pub, staying at his house that still didn't quite make sense to you, or going on regular dates that you planned like restaurants and carnivals, you and John had the time of your lives. And after all the adventures you had been on, he finally admitted that he loved you, just as you had admitted it before.
But loving John Constantine was no simple feat. It came with challenges like murderous monsters, various being from Hell, and most recently, your family.
You knew Bruce would be less than approving. He knew how much of a troublemaker John was, and his self-proclaimed bastard status did not help. Bruce knew he was trouble, and frankly, so did you, but he was too sweet and loving in the end for you to care. He was more than some troubled magician with alcoholism issues, severe gambling debt and the ability to fuck a shark. He was also probably the sweetest guy you had met and he cherished you, showering you in unconditional love, as uncharacteristic as it seemed.
Which is why this particular case was so difficult. While John took every opportunity to flirt with you, you had to refuse every advance and bury the urge to grab him by the collar his stupidly overused coat and kiss him silly. But no, one of your siblings or Bruce was around at every given moment. Alfred had already known you and John were a thing and promised to keep things quiet.
"Are you listening, love?" John asked, specifically looking at you. You felt singled out between Damian and Stephanie, as they, Bruce, and a few of your other siblings stared at you in confusion. You had been listening, briefly, but couldn't for the life of you remember what John had said. It's not like it mattered, this was just John wrapping things up. The case was virtually over.
"Don't call me that," you hardened your gaze instead of smiling and swooning as you normally would when he looked at you with the same intensity as he was now. The subtle changes in your mannerisms towards each other had miraculously not been noticed by the others.
"That's not an answer, love," oh he just loved pissing you off, didn't he? When all this was over you were sure you would make sure he paid for his actions.
"Yeah, I was listening," you folded your arms as he narrowed his eyes at you.
"Y'know what? I don't think you were. You've been giving me attitude this entire case, and frankly, I'm done with it," John shot back with a smirk.
"Excuse me?" I asked, wondering where the hell he was going with this.
"Excuse us, is more like it. You can finish things up here, Bats, I'm sure. I'd like to have a word with them, if you don't mind," John began to walk towards you.
"I don't see how this is important to--"
"Great! We'll only be a moment, just carry on with the debrief," John placed a hand on your lower back, escorting you out of the batcave and upstairs to your room. You saw Dick and Cass along the way, starting at you two oddly but John just smiled and ushered you into the room.
"John, what the hell do you think you're do--!" he cut you off by pinning you to the wall and pressing his lip to yours, pulling away with a boyish grin.
"Oh, I have missed you, love," he smiled, about to dive back in but you pushed him back.
"John, you can't just pull me out of a debrief to make out--"
"We're gonna be doing a lot more than make out, sweetheart," he said, grabbing your hips with both hands. You rolled your eyes slightly before placing one hand on his waist and the other on the side of his neck, quickly flipping him around so he's against the wall. You grin a little at his flustered state.
"We're gonna get caught, hon, please don't do this. I love you but it hasn't even been that long--"
"Seconds without you are too long, sweetheart," he replied, and you chuckled.
"That's very sweet, J, but if you keep this up I'm not gonna be able to control myself. Bruce will kill me, and then wait until the others find out--"
"Too late," Damian stood in the doorway of your bedroom and you nearly jumped out of you skin.
"What sorcery is this, Constantine? What have you done to them?" Damian produced a dagger out of seemingly nowhere and you sighed.
"Dames--"
"What? I'm sorry, (Y/N), but I can't trust your words--"
"Damian, he didn't do anything. No magic, no tricks, nothing. We've been seeing each other for a while," Damian continues to stare at you, not believing you. You sighed, walking up to him and ruffling his hair, "I promise, Dames. John hasn't enchanted me or anything, I just-- I'm in love with him," you finished, staring back at John. Damian looked between you and him before sighing.
"You're really in love with him? Him, of all people? You know how badly Raven speaks of him," Damian folded his arms.
"Raven? She talks about me behind my back? Bloody hell, I'll be having words with her--"
"John,"
"Right! Yes, uhm, Damian, I swear I haven't cursed them to fall in love with me. Really, it's a miracle they love me at all--"
"Don't say that," you smiled.
"What? Its true! And if you're worried about me hurting them or something, you shouldn't be. I'd rather kiss Nergal than even try hurting them," John rolled his eyes.
"And you know I'd kick his ass if he tried anything, Dames," you smirked.
"Well, I just might enjoy that, love--"
"Fucking hell, John, he's fourteen!" you covered Damian's ears as John laughed loudly. Damian eventually swatted your hands away and glared at John again.
"I really do love him, Dames. And nothing you say is gonna change that. We've been dating for almost a year and I still love him, so clearly that counts for something," you assured him.
John bent down slightly to be eye-to-eye with Damian, "I would never do anything to harm them, squire. And I can't get rid of 'em, even if I wanted to," John chuckled.
"You know you love me," you grinned.
"Yeah, I do," John replied, sincerely, making you tense up.
"Fine, I approve," Damian said decisively.
"No one needed your approval, Dames, but thank you," you chuckled, pressing a kiss to John's cheek, "now, just please don't tell Bruce about this--"
"I already know," Bruce, now in casual clothes instead of his suit, rounded the corner and stood next to Damian as you blinked in disbelief.
"Are you kidding me? No, don't tell me--" you peeked out of your room with John to see pretty much the rest of the family was listening. You sighed dragging a hand down your face as John chuckled nervously.
"Bollocks,"
#john constantine x reader#john constantine fluff#john constantine x you#john constantine fanfic#john constantine#john constantine x batfam reader#gender neutral reader#batsis reader#batbro reader#batfam reader#batfamily#john constantine x y/n#WOOOOO MY FIRST FULL FIC IN AGES LETS FUCKING GOOO!!
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JOHN CONSTANTINE BOT : REQUEST
CHARACTER.AI | JANITOR AI (NSFW)
Preview : Leaning casually against the doorway of his own apartment, Constantine watches you struggle with a hint of amusement thinly veiled by his stoicism. He has no intention of offering any assistance, however there’s something about the innocence radiating from you that stirs a dark desire within him at the thought of corrupting your purity.
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