Hey, I'm Anna. Here's my rules so we can all be safe here.
Follow my blog for my playlists: @anna-the-dj
Tw//This blog often has NSFW content
1. This blog as well as my other blogs are 18+, so MINORS DNI
2. I will not tolerate homophobia, transphobia, racism, and general bullying.
3. Don’t bully people, if I find out about it I will block and report you.
4. Please don’t spam me, I am a busy person and I am not on 24/7.
5. DON'T SPOIL SHIT!!! I am a busy person, I will get to it eventually.
6. Just be good people!
Fandoms:
Video Games:
Five Nights at Freddy's, Bendy and the Ink Machine (and its sequel games), Cuphead
TV:
My Hero Academia, Jujutsu Kaisen, SpyxFamily, Junji Ito, Helluva Boss, Hazbin Hotel, The Amazing Digital Circus, South Park, Villainous, X-Men '97
Other Stuff:
Marvel, DC, Invincible, The Boys, Welcome Home, Lots of musicals and I'm open to listening to more, Greek Mythology (legit just took a class about them), Basically any popular horror movie franchise
There are more, this was just all I could think of right now.
I think I've been blocked by Sarah. I cant see anything anymore, not even her account. I didn't mean to upset her if I did. Again- its never my intention to hurt anybody. If I gave my opinion on how I really felt then people will hate on me. There is such thing as constructive criticism and people dont like it.
I'm just really worried for Sarah but nobody not even her seems to be listening to me. Its like talking to a brick wall.
She seems to be set and stone on her choice. But she needs to hear all voices (not just hate ones). Especially the ones who are concerned for her.
I dunno if she saw my message(s) as bad? I didn't mean to do anything wrong. And I deeply apologize if I did.
It seemed to happen right after I posted this:
I've tried cheering her up a couple times but I guess that came off as annoying. (I'm not a fake fan. I even made fan art!)
So if I did something wrong please tell me. I'd rather be told than get the silent treatment.
I don’t think Sarah Jolley’s ignoring you on purpose, especially not for anything you might have done. Whenever she’s on tech she’s pretty busy with her comics and all the legal work, so she doesn’t have the time to interact with every fan unfortunately. Her posts also get a lot of traction so there’s a good chance she didn’t end up seeing what you’ve made, since it would be piled in alongside everything else. Hopefully this helps, I wouldn’t want you to get upset over it and I doubt she would either. In terms for fans, you’re as real as they come!
My bad! I didn’t see the first part where you said she’d blocked you. I’m so sorry to hear that. I know you’re just tying to help, I’ve come to realise that, and it’s a shame other people haven’t too.
However, I think I can explain what Modmad’s thought process was with choosing to block you. Though I’m going to preface this by letting you know this might come off as a bit blunt, you of all people should know I’m not the best at being gentle or polite, if our first interaction was anything to go by. And if it’s not blunt it’ll still be lengthy because I overcompensate and talk too much. I hope it provides some insight or at least helps you see what she’s thinking, even if you don’t agree with her choice by the end (and it’s okay if you don’t! I know how much it sucks to be blocked without warning by someone you like)
What you’ve said about your constructive criticism and concern, how it’s like talking to a brick wall, and that Sarah seems set in stone on her decision, are the biggest pieces of the puzzle, and can be worked through backwards. Sarah has already made her decision and has already taken some pretty huge steps in that direction, so she’s not really open to changing her mind like she might have been a few months ago, and has no reason to engage with someone telling her to rethink.
Then, she blocked you. Perhaps she’s blocked quite a lot of people recently, I can imagine she has, as I’ve seen a lot less haters in her comments as of late. So modmad’s currently in a place where she can’t be bothered with any more discourse and is probably going to block anyone who gives her a headache, hater or otherwise. You’ve tagged her in a lot of your posts, which is very sweet, but you’ve also frequently talked about how you disagree with the actions she’s taking. The result is that Sarah is seeing your posts far more frequently, but is getting a lot of mixed signals and might not know how to respond.
Most importantly, though, she might think you’re being a bit entitled to tell her she’s making a mistake, even though you’re coming from a place of concern. Don’t get too upset by this, I’m sure she’s far more annoyed with far more people.
The truth is, legal battles are complicated and expensive, and in earlier posts she explains it wasn’t even her first resort, she was actually somewhat reluctant to engage legally. But this is the decision she’s finally come to. Why’s that? She has talked this over with family, close friends, irl friends, fellow comic artists. She lost a lot of money last time she called a lawyer, 2 years ago, to ask the team to make a statement. Now, she’s doing something even bigger, and without a doubt she’s put hours and hours of thought into it, had offscreen conversations with people we’ll never hear about.
Now, she’s announcing her decision online, and that’s *after* she’s began pursuing legal action with JfA. She wouldn’t be getting involved legally if she was unsure, she wouldn’t be announcing it if she was unsure… but she was unsure at the very beginning, which means getting to this point was a process that took time and thought. She’s not going back on it.
I’m sure you’ve seen the updates she’s made, frequent and detailed, that come together as a timeline for her decision process. Reading through them, it becomes clear that she didn’t want this to happen. All she’s really wanted is for the smg4 team, the ones with the influence and the ones who have nothing to lose, to just stand by a fellow indie creator and tell their “fans” (real fans dgaf) her design isn’t stolen and they need to shut up. But due to their silence, nothing was solved, things got worse, and she started to wonder if maybe there was a reason for them to ignore her in the first place.
The first time she hired a lawyer, she went against their advice and tried to come off as nonthreatening, but the team never responded. Now, she’s finally taking that risk and sending something that will give them incentive to finally show some respect and engage. She says she doesn’t actually want to instil the cease&desist, and looking at the kind of backlash she’d face if she *did* go through with it, I’d say that she’s being honest. But, if it was fear that’s been keeping the creators quiet all this time, maybe something can scare them into taking as well. She’s doing the kind of thing you do when you’re running out of options, basically.
So yeah, she’s made her choice, and she doesn’t want to go back on it so she’s going to ignore people telling her that she should. Especially since she’s already in the middle of doing it, it’s a bit late to back out.
Finally, your advice. I don’t want this to come off as rude, I’m just stating the fact that I feel like you’ve never been in a legal battle before. That’s completely okay but you need to understand that the situation is pretty sever when court is involved, and the judge telling them to stop harassing each other is not going to happen. Usually in cases like this, the result will have some kind of money involved, even though Sarah has stated she’s not interested in taking money off of an indie company. Luckily one of your asks to the french translator whose @ I can’t remember (I’ll link them in the comments if you’d like) gets a reply that goes quite in depth about the most probable results. I’d recommend re-reading it a few times because it might help reassure you about it.
Bottom line, there’s a lot of reasons she might have blocked you, but TL;DR your criticism is all things she’s seen time and time again, and even though you’re being kind about it, she’s just had enough of hearing it over and over. Plus she’s already made her choice, for better or for worse. And since you don’t seem to have much legal expertise, she might be a bit put off by the way you phrase things.
Still, as a fellow TPoH fan I still appreciate the things you’ve made. I think the best ways we can support Sarah is to just stand by her when things finally come crashing down. Your server is actually going to be very useful for that, I had a project idea where we could turn some of the French translator’s PSA posts into artwork so they reach further. I think it’s important that people know the tpoh side doesn’t condone harassment and that it’s perfectly okay to like Mr Puzzles ect, but also that it’s important that everyone understands why this is going down, ect ect. Don’t give up just yet because 1) you’re not banned from the comic website and 2) you can still contact the translator and the rest of both fandoms involved. Hope this helps.
Wow. Yeah uh this was a lot to read and take in. Also, uhm. I have 50% good thoughts on Sarah and 50% bad thoughts on Sarah. I'm conflicted basically. Bc I dont want to come off as a jerk but at the same time I want to voice my thoughts.
Also yeah, I havent been in a legal situation before. I literally just turned 18 a couple months ago and I've been hidden from a lot of stuff growing up so I guess my family never felt the need to discuss things like court to me. Therefore I have the mind of a 12 or 16 year old. I'm pretty childish.
And either way I was barely talking about the court. I was saying how she COULD handle the situation if best comes to best (or worst comes to worst). Because I may not have experience in law but I have experience when it comes to stubborn minds (having one myself). Basically me and this other content creator dont get along at all. I kept wanting to debate how their actions were just cruel and they decided to not gaf. So we often butted heads because of our different mind sets. But in the end I figured out it was easier to just avoid them. I've been harassed. I've been hurt. And yet I've found positive ways around it. Though I will say its sad Sarah couldn't find a positive way of handling it. (In her own way).
yeah sorry for that, I’ll try to talk less this time, some kinda middle ground ig. Also I’m the same age but I wasn’t very sheltered so I’ve got a bit of an unfair advantage there. But I’m not judging you, you shouldn’t be judged for that. Most adults don’t know much about court either. There’s no shame in it and such, also I’ll try and keep that you’re more childlike in mind if we ever talk again.
Regarding voicing your thoughts, I wouldn’t recommend tagging her directly if you ever do, just in case people get mad about it. You can always call on @hsui555 (is that it? It’s not showing up) for defence but I wouldn’t risk it personally. You can still share your thoughts I guess, I can’t stop you or anything, but maybe seek out more like minded people first? Idk.
Also yes I know you weren’t directly talking about court, but you did mention the judge and also the topic was how Sarah was choosing to respond, which was with court. So I needed to bring it up a lot because I was trying to show what was going on in her head, and in her head this is a very legal situation now. Sorry if that was kinda lost in the rambling though.
Regarding your main point tho, most of what I said still applies. Sarah’s overwhelmed, not really open to criticism or concern from strangers atm bc she’s probably got enough of that in her personal circles, not too interested in people who tag her a lot, not wanting to engage with someone less experienced, and that’s why she blocked you.
But I’ll say that I made a mistake forgetting to highlight the main body of what you were saying. I’ll discuss it here. What you experienced was a personal centric disagreement ig, a clash of morals, two creators on equal ground and the problem being the bad things they do that you were trying to fight against.
Modmad’s situation is quite different, it’s a professional issue, the problem is that the smg4 team didn’t try to take responsibility for their fanbase when they had the power to do so and in the process someone with less money and less influence was badly hurt. Also there’s the potential copyright infringement part. But basically the two situations are quite different at their core (parties are not on equal footing and the problem is tied directly to their work, ie their income, rather than a moral issue). Therefore mod mad doesn’t see the two as comparable, and to be fair on her they’re quite different when you get a lil deeper.
I think you’re right, and it’s a shame it’s had to come to this, but we have to consider how far away she can actually step. The situation is too deeply tied up in her career to be able to avoid, and the harassment comes in droves, smg4 has a huge fanbase after all.
I agree that it’s a shame but I also can’t imagine what else she’s supposed to do. Smg4s active creators publicly stating they don’t condone harassment and that modmad’s design came first, the two characters are unrelated, and now that they should have said something years ago, could do numbers for mod. It’s just all really big and really unfortunate.
I will say this bc me and (a family member of mine) discussed this and it appears SMG4 just doesn't interact at all with his comminuty or anyone else too often. Its very rare. And I learned this bc he has a HISTORY and apparently not a good one. He wasnt seen as a good person at all and done some things for a couple years till it finally stopped (my family member has friends and heard in public that they knew SMG4 before he became big and it wasnt the best experience). I could be wrong, they could be wrong. Who knows? All I know is that if SMG4 gets contacted he ignores them (unless they a big company willing to collaborate it seems). He doesn't seem to be the kind to get into any drama either (and that's because he ignored his fanbase). At least- I havent SEEN any drama that SMG4 got involved with. (Just giving my POV). So I'm not saying this as an "excuse for his actions". But I dont think people know or understand the situation with SMG4 and why he's usually so quiet.
Okay, so the commenter made me aware that ModMad mentioned this in the first message about SMG4. That's my fault on my part for not seeing that. My attention span is pretty ass. ADHD gotta love it. So I will say, on this account, I will not discuss the ModMad situation (only forward my messages on my alt account). I do not wish for this account to get blocked, too. It's my only way to be sure she's okay.
Also I will say I'm used to being ignored and not heard. It's a pretty bad feeling.
I will also say, I'm a bit hurt I got blocked (I thought I'd be overlooked or ignored, like 90% of people do). True, it's my fault for not paying more attention. I can be pretty annoying, too. It's not an excuse, but I've kinda been sheltered my whole life. I have never really been told certain things. I also have a premature mind. I'm 18 with a 12-16 year old mental state. But I feel there's a lot I need and should learn.
The reason I'm hurt is because I tried to even cheer her up. I even made a Discord server to support her and TPoH. We still have readings. Despite my negative thoughts, I try to look on a positive side (it's kind of how I'm wired). I even made fanart, which I'm sure was also ignored or unseen. (Not that it was intentional). I just wish Sarah would listen, and that's what frustrates me, but I see that she is set on what to do. And honestly? I'll let her face the choice. It was hers to begin with, not ours. I just worry too much. I got very high anxiety, and when there's a situation I'm powerless in, it makes me feel... I don't know... mad and sad.
The mixed thoughts you've seen me had are obvious. I look like I'm hating while also trying to be polite. The reason for that is my frustration peeks out sometimes when I voice my thoughts (if that makes sense). I'm the person who sugar-coats things as best as possible. I'm unfortunately somewhat a people-pleaser.
Hi, heard my name (@hisui555 actually if you want to tag me, @suspiciously-robotic, you just forgot an i ^^) also thanks for giving me the link, @smgeveofficial.
Also, thanks for sharing your personal situation, don't worry, not going to judge you : I've got a pretty rocky upbringing myself, and yeah I'm quite used to getting hatred and violence thrown my way (too). I'm also neurodivergent ^^
It's perfectly normal to have mixed thoughts about it all, about Mod, etc. Like said, it's not really a black-or-white situation : things are complicated, even more if they're left unanswered.
If you want a rundown of "what could happen", here's one talking about the hate we'll receive anyway (loss/win/neutral), here's one about "what if Mod wins and SMG4 has anything to pay" in a legal sense (maybe the one @suspiciously-robotic was talking about), and here's one talking about how trademarks, homage, parody, satire and plagiarism work in regards to the situation.
I also agree that it's very, very saddening that things had to come to this, but Mod made it clear that the C&D is a sort-of last ditch move to finally get SMG4 to talk to them. Mod has tried everything they could think of :
Peacefully contacting the SMG4 Crew ? No answer.
Use a legal letter ? Nothing.
Ignore the haters and keep quiet (as ooooh-so-many people are 'advising' them) ? Yeah, it almost pushed them to the undoable once, and it doesn't work at all - the haters never stopped and a new peak was reached now in 2026 with the CAV announcement.
Call for help to the fandom ? We made the issue avoidable (win for us !) but it took 9 days for someone to reply (Cube/FM), and it wasn't Glitch/SMG4 and they haven't gotten in touch with Mod.
Second wave of messages to Glitch/SMG4 ? No answers (ironically, they are encouraging their own fans to message local theaters to get them to diffuse TADC... the same way we tried to message them. Ha.)
Reach-out attempt through J4A ? Nada.
Now we're at a C&D through J4A because literally Glitch/SMG4 didn't took the multitude of chances Mod (and we) gave them since now a full 2 years, 1 month, 1 week and a half in total since the mess started. Because they're keeping silent.
So, yeah, no backing out now. If they don't want to give us answers, we're gonna get them a bit more forcefully. We're at a point where Glitch/SMG4 kinda owe it to all of us, fandoms of both sides included, now.
Something that would never have happened if they reacted 2 years ago. Something that would never have to happen if part of the SMG4 "fans" didn't harass Mod.
That C&D ? It's on the haters : it's the haters' fault. And if it ends up hurting the SMG4 side, it'll be all on the haters - if anyone tries to blame Mod for defending themself in this situation, that's the same as saying they should've shut up and let themself be trampled over by the haters.
So, yeah. The haters have shot their own community in the foot massively here. They've put their own community and creators at risk, by going out of their way to harass someone who has nothing to do with it.
And, for extra irony points : let's say if (IF) it turns out there has been something fishy going on, basically the haters' action exposed it in the long run - meaning what they did snowballed into something that boomeranged back in their face. Wouldn't that be just a huge "oops", eh ?
(Not saying that it's necessarily what happened !!!! Just a very ironic "what if")
Viv confirming that Valentino is the trophy wife is all I'll ever need for future fics.
Because of course he's the trophy wife. He's smart in his field of expertise(porn and sex in general) but outside of that, he's a basically blind moth with anger issues and a bad habit of abusing his employees. Of course Vox looks at him and thinks "I can spoil him rotten and love every second of it."
A/n:I fear I am obsessed with this man, I have more places with this man.
1. Against the Wall of His Flat – First Taste of Chaos
It’s never subtle with John. Not when he’s had a rough day with demons clawing at his heels and the weight of the world on his shoulders. The moment you step into his flat, his trench coat hits the floor, and he backs you up until your spine meets the wall with a quiet thud. You barely have time to inhale before his mouth is on yours—hungry, desperate, like you’re the only lifeline keeping him from drowning.
His hands are all over you—under your clothes, pushing your thighs apart, hoisting you up like it’s the only thing he’s certain of. And when he presses into you right there, against cracked plaster and faded spell glyphs, it’s filthy and fast. He fucks like he’s trying to chase something out of his head—like you’re both a prayer and a vice.
His voice is ragged in your ear, “This—this is the only bloody thing that makes sense.”
☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆
2. The Penthouse Tub – When He Lets Himself Feel
Bruce gave him the penthouse. John resented the comfort—until you lit candles one night and coaxed him into the absurdly massive marble tub. At first, it was quiet, warm, intimate. He rested between your thighs, the water fogging the mirrors, his hair wet and pushed back, a cigarette still balanced at the edge of the tub.
And then his hand slipped under the water.
The way he fucked you in that tub was slow, indulgent. He worshipped your body like he didn’t believe he’d be allowed to touch it again. Water sloshed over the edges, your legs over his shoulders, soft moans swallowed between kisses. His thumb on your clit, lips brushing your ankle—his eyes never leaving yours.
He didn’t talk much. But afterward, he leaned his forehead against yours and whispered, “You’re the calm in my bloody storm, love.”
☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆
3. On the Roof – Under a Cigarette Sky
It’s late. London hums beneath you, streetlights flickering like lazy stars. John’s trench coat is wrapped around your shoulders. He says he likes the view, but his hands are on your hips, guiding you into his lap with practiced ease.
He fucks you on that roof with the skyline spread out behind you, his boots braced against concrete, your back arching to the night sky. His voice is a gravel whisper in your ear—filthy, reverent, broken in all the right places. One hand wrapped around your throat just enough to remind you who you belong to, the other gripping your hip like you might disappear.
“I’d curse the bloody moon if it meant keeping you,” he growls between thrusts, his breath hot against your neck.
☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆
4. In the Backseat of a Stolen Cab – Dripping with Adrenaline
You’re still laughing from the chase when he shoves you into the backseat of the stolen cab. Sirens in the distance. Blood on his lip. Smoke still curling from the ruined talisman in his jacket pocket.
But none of it matters.
He climbs in after you like a man possessed, kisses you with too much teeth, and pulls your panties down with a growl. The leather squeaks beneath you as he drives into you, pace brutal, raw, unfiltered. You claw at his shirt, nails catching old scars, and he just mutters something in Latin you don’t understand.
“Can’t take you home like this,” he snarls. “Need you now.”
And fuck, he means it.
☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆
5. Your Bed – When He’s Soft (and Pretends Not to Be)
He doesn’t stay the night, usually. Too dangerous, he says. Too intimate. But every once in a while, John crawls into your bed like a ghost in the dark, curling around you like you’re the only safe place left on earth.
That’s when he’s slow.
He makes love to you then—though he’d never call it that. Kisses your shoulder. Buries his face in your neck. Moans your name like a confession. No sarcasm, no spells, no shields. Just the sound of skin against skin and the soft thud of his heart syncing with yours.
You whisper, “You’re safe here.”
And he looks at you like that might be the most dangerous thing of all.
☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆
6. In a Circle of Salt – Between Heaven and Hell
There are rituals. Ancient magic. And sometimes, when the stakes are high and death is on the table, he fucks you in the middle of a protective circle like it’s the only anchor he has left.
Candles flicker. Ash floats in the air. And John—bloody, ruined, panting—has you on your knees, his fingers tangled in your hair, his body pressed to yours like he’s begging for salvation.
The salt around you glows faintly.
You ride him until his head falls back, jaw slack, muttering things between English and Enochian.
He comes with your name on his lips, shaking like a man who knows he shouldn’t be allowed this much light. And then he kisses you like he’s thanking every god he doesn’t believe in.
☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆
7. In the Astral Plane – Where He Can Be Anything
He teaches you how to find him there.
Floating through dreamscapes, half-lucid, half-lost, you find yourself pressed to his chest in a place where reality bends. You look different here—more powerful, more free—and John drinks you in like sin made flesh.
He kisses you beneath the stars he conjured. Touches you with hands that don’t bear the burn scars. And when he takes you—gently, passionately, deeply—it’s with the reverence of a man who thinks maybe, just maybe, he deserves something good here.
Here, you’re not haunted. You’re home.
☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆
8. Your Kitchen Table – Morning-After Mayhem
He was supposed to be making tea.
You’d barely dragged yourself out of bed when you walked in to find him shirtless, cigarette already lit, muttering to himself about a Hellmouth beneath Camden. You hadn’t even said good morning—just walked over, tugged the cigarette from his lips, and kissed him until his fingers dug into your thighs.
Now you’re bent over the kitchen table, one leg hitched around his waist, your robe barely hanging on.
He grunts your name like a prayer, teeth gritted, hand splayed low on your back to keep you in place. The table creaks with every sharp thrust, mugs rattling near the edge. Sunlight spills through the curtains, and his stubble scrapes your neck when he leans in close to mutter, “God, look at you—ruined for anyone else, aren’t you?”
You are. And he fucking knows it.
☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆
9. In Zatanna’s Library – Reckless, Defiant, Yours
You’re not supposed to be here.
Books line every wall. Wards hum at the edges of the room. Zatanna’s spellwork is precise and ancient—but John doesn’t give a damn. Not when you’re sitting on her mahogany desk, skirt rucked up, his mouth trailing kisses from your collarbone to your navel.
“Reckon we’ve got ten minutes before she comes back,” he says.
He fucks you with your legs over his shoulders, his laughter low and wicked in your ear when a protective sigil flares in the air behind him. You grip the edge of the desk, nails digging in, barely stifling your moans. Every thrust knocks over ancient tomes and candleholders.
“You’re gonna get us cursed,” you hiss.
He grins. “Worth it.”
☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆
10. In the Rain – Alleyway Desperation
It’s pouring. London rain—hard, cold, relentless.
John drags you into the shadows between two buildings, lips crashing into yours like he’s starved. Your clothes are soaked. Your breath fogs. And still, he fumbles your jeans down, his hands shaking—not from cold, but from need.
He spins you to face the wall. Your palms brace against wet brick as he pushes into you, groaning low. The rain drums on his coat, his breath hot at the back of your neck.
Fast. Messy. Loud.
“You shouldn’t make me want you like this,” he pants, forehead pressed to your shoulder. “It’s not bloody fair.”
But he doesn’t stop. And you don’t want him to.
☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆
11. On the Floor of His Office – After a Fight
You’d screamed at each other. Magic. Blood. A near-death that rattled you both.
You were halfway to walking out when he grabbed your wrist and spun you around, eyes wild, desperate. The apology never made it to his lips—he showed it instead.
Now you’re on the floor of his cluttered office, papers scattered, trench coat beneath you, his body over yours. It’s not gentle, but it’s not cruel either. It’s urgent. Honest. Real.
He fucks you like he’s trying to fix everything that’s broken between you.
“Stay,” he whispers against your lips. “Just… stay.”
You do.
☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆
12. Against a Mirror – Just to Watch You Break
You’re in a motel, middle of nowhere. There’s a full-length mirror on the wall, and John catches your eye in it.
“Face the glass,” he tells you, voice like smoke and velvet. “Wanna see what I do to you.”
You do as he says.
He takes you from behind, one hand in your hair, the other wrapped around your waist. He watches your reflection—watches your face contort, eyes flutter, mouth open in that perfect moan he lives for.
“Look at you,” he growls, hips slamming into you. “You see what you do to me, love? What I’d fucking kill for?”
You see it. And you believe him.
☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆
13. On Sacred Ground – Blasphemous and Beautiful
It’s reckless. Sacrilegious. And somehow, all the more intense because of it.
The church is abandoned, but the altar still hums with ancient divinity. He lays you across it, gently, like you’re the only god he believes in. You expect him to joke—but he doesn’t.
Not here.
He undresses you in silence. Kisses your skin like confession. When he finally enters you, it’s with reverence that steals the breath from your lungs.
This isn’t about sin. Not to him.
It’s about worship.
☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆
14. On the Astral Plane (Again) – But This Time, You Take Control
He finds you again.
But this time, you press him down.
His eyes widen when you climb onto him in that glowing dreamscape, your body outlined in starlight, voice commanding and sure. You ride him slow, nails dragging across his chest, his hands shaking as they hold your hips.
“Fuck—what’ve I unleashed,” he rasps.
You lean down and whisper, “The only thing you can’t control.”
He loves it. He loves you. And for once, he doesn’t run from it.
☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆
15. In Hell – Because He Couldn’t Leave Without You
He came for you.
You had been dragged below—stolen in a deal you never made. John cracked open every forbidden tome, bartered with entities that should never be named, and bled for the privilege of marching into Hell itself.
And when he found you, chained in flame and shadow, he didn’t say a word.
He shattered the binds. Pulled you into his arms. And right there—on scorched stone and sulfur winds—he kissed you like it was the first and last time.
The sex was brutal and beautiful. Not about lust. About reclamation.
You moaned into his shoulder as he held your hips still, fucking into you with a desperation that bordered on reverence. Flames licked the air. Demons watched from afar. He didn’t care.
“You’re mine,” he growled, thrusts unforgiving. “Not theirs. Never theirs.”
And when you came, it was with fire beneath your skin—and John Constantine’s soul wrapped around yours.
☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆
16. On a Demon’s Throne – Right Before He Banished It
The throne was carved from bone, pulsing with power. The demon that once ruled it had already been vanquished—John saw to that. But he wasn’t done proving his dominance.
He pulled you into his lap.
You straddled him on the still-warm throne, and he grinned, bloodied lip and all. “Let’s make sure they know who rules this pit now, yeah?”
You fucked like conquerors—hard and filthy, with the air still thick with brimstone. John bit your shoulder, growled obscenities, rutted into you until the throne groaned beneath your movements.
He came with your name like a curse and a coronation.
And then lit the damn thing on fire.
☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆
17. During a Magical Trance – Half-Dream, All Feeling
He wasn’t awake.
He was caught in a spell—eyes glazed, body limp, magic dancing along his skin like threads of gold.
You should have left him alone.
But he reached for you. Even unconscious, his body knew yours. You climbed into his lap, guided him inside you, and something clicked. His breath hitched. His hands found your hips. His magic surged.
And suddenly, you were both floating.
No gravity. No pain. No trauma.
Just two souls locked in rhythm, moving together like a spell cast in perfect synchrony. You whispered his name as you rode him, slow and breathless, and somewhere deep in his trance, he smiled.
☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆
18. In Front of a Mirror Spell – So He Sees Everything
He’d cast it as a joke. “A little show for us,” he said.
But it wasn’t funny when you were on your knees, and every angle of you—every fluttering lash, every bob of your head—was reflected tenfold in floating mirrors around the room.
John sat back, jaw tight, watching you with rapt hunger. “Fuck, love… you look like a goddess.”
Later, he bent you over and took you from behind, forcing you to watch as he fucked you in every reflection. His hand gripped your chin, turning your gaze to meet his in the mirror.
“Eyes up. I want you to see what I do to you.”
You did. And you never forgot it.
☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆
19. In the Shower – Sigils Steaming Around You
The water was scalding. Sigils drawn in soapstone on the tiles. Protective wards whispered around you like heat.
He’d just returned from banishing a spirit that almost got him—and your anger turned to relief, then to lust. You dragged him into the shower, still half-dressed, and slammed your mouth to his.
He groaned into you, pressing you to the tile as steam curled between your bodies.
He slid into you with a ferocity that belied how close he’d come to dying.
“I’m still here,” he muttered into your neck. “Still fucking here.”
You made love like it was a second chance—desperate and tender and real.
☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆
20. Up Against the Bookshelves at S.T.A.R. Labs – Science and Sin.
You told him not here.
He didn’t listen.
He cornered you between quantum physics and astral theory, your lab coat already open, his fingers slipping under your waistband with maddening ease. Before you could protest again, your leg was hitched over his hip and your back was against the bookcase.
“Quiet, love,” he smirked. “Let’s see if you can keep that brilliant mouth shut.”
You couldn’t.
And the moment you came—clutching his coat, nails scraping the spine of a Newtonian relic—he whispered, “Remind me to let the good Doctor Wells know what a hell of a study break looks like.”
You feel the way his gaze lingers, tracing your curves, fixating on your tits, he's not exactly subtle. Then again, nothing about John Constantine ever was; the man was seemingly without shame, strutting around like a peacock for both you and your husband.
That was the real kicker. Had the foul-mouthed Brit been ogling just you, then you’d have rolled your eyes and moved on. But there was something about the way he glanced appreciatively at Bruce that had you pausing in consideration. You were hardly a stranger to the looks Bruce garnered; he was (in your unbiased opinion) one of the sexiest men on the planet, but John’s stare was downright hungry.
A blink and you’d miss it flush covering his cheeks anytime Batman displayed his impressive physical strength, as if John was imagining that strength being used on him. Not that you blamed him, those were the sorts of fantasies you and Bruce often acted out together.
Bruce clearly noticed it too, and was doing his best to ignore the flirtation stalwartly. To anyone else, he was the picture of nonchalance, but you knew your husband, and hidden behind the veil of irritation was thinly disguised interest. John wasn’t an unattractive man, for all his personality made him as likable as a gnat sometimes, and even if he’d protest vehemently, you knew the blonde was Bruce’s type.
Bruce was loyal; of that, you'd no doubt. He’d never do anything to jeopardise your relationship. He probably didn’t even realise he was looking. You supposed that should make you jealous, but then you’d be a hypocrite, given that you were looking too.
The man had shrugged off his tan trench coat, his shirt sleeves rolled to above his elbows to show off his forearms, almost as if he knew you had a weakness for just that. His hair had become gradually more dishevelled as the night wore on, and he ran his hand through the blond locks in frustration.
Though after nearly four hours of magical research, even Bruce was getting cranky. His patience for Constantine’s flirting and magic as a whole reaching its end. Some of that’s probably your fault, having gone to take a shower around two hours in, only to emerge adorned in nothing but a fluffy robe, tied loosely enough to show off your cleavage as you reclined back in your seat. Every little movement you make draws both their gazes, forcing you to hide your smirk behind the glass of wine you’d poured yourself.
John’s tongue darts out, swiping over his lower lip as you shift, crossing your legs and showing off the skin of your bare thighs as the robe slips lower. Bruce clears his throat, shifting the attention from you, and your smirk deepens at the visible cracks in his composure. The tension in his jaw muscles, the white-knuckled grip on his now-empty glass of whiskey and most damningly, the way his pants do little to hide the beginnings of his arousal.
Constantine chokes when he notices, tugging at the collar of his shirt as he stares with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. You tilt your head, eyes searching Bruce’s as you silently ask, rules?
With Zatanna, he’d wanted to watch, with Hal, it had been a competition between the two men to see who could fuck you better. That instance had left you unable to walk, not that you’d complained, but neither of those dynamics seemed right for John.
In those seconds of silent conversation between you and your husband, John recovers, rougish grin covering his face. “Damn Bats, that–”
Whatever John was going to say was forgotten as you gripped his face, tilting his face up to pull him in for a sensual kiss. One of your hands tangles in the hair on the nape of his neck, tugging harshly. You’re rewarded with a whimper that you greedily swallow, prompting you to repeat the action, hoping to hear it again.
You pull away, giggling a little when John absentmindedly chases after your lips, a dazed expression plastered across his normally cocksure face. Bruce had taken the opportunity to rise, moulding himself against your back, planting gentle kisses over the exposed skin of your neck and shoulders.
John’s eyes follow the action dazedly, nearly bulging out of his head as Bruce’s hands deftly tug on the belt of your robe, helping you slide out of it as it slides to the floor forgotten. “Fuck, love, Bats.” The sorcerer croaks, hands clenching and unclenching on his thighs as he looks desperately between you and your husband as if searching for confirmation that this was happening.
“Problem, Constantine?” Bruce asks, feigning ignorance as one of his calloused hands drifts between your legs. Your hips buck involuntarily, attempting to coax Bruce into touching you properly.
"Don't be impatient," he chides quietly, gripping your waist to keep you still.
John swallows, watching intently, squirming in his seat to try and find a comfortable position. "This isn't a dream, right?" His eyes are still flickering back and forth between you and Bruce, as if waiting for permission.
“Not a dream, love.” You sigh, head falling back against Bruce’s shoulder as he cups your tits, before he starts to walk you backwards. John watches, frozen, dazed as Bruce opens the study door until you speak up again, “Are you coming?”
John practically trips over himself to follow, making you giggle as you reach out, lacing his hand in yours as the three of you stumble into the nearest bedroom in a tangle of limbs and shed clothes.
In a brief moment of lucidity, you mentally thank the stars that none of the kids are home, and it dawns on you that Bruce probably planned this. But then his lips are back on your neck, and Constantine’s sprawled, naked across the mattress, and all other thoughts fly out the window.
The sorcerer’s confidence had returned, his usual cocky smirk back as he takes in the way both you and Bruce stare appreciatively. “What are you waiting for?” He purred, and you pounced, kneeling between his spread thighs and pulling him into a bruising kiss.
You feel the mattress dip behind you, Bruce’s now bare chest pressed against your back once more, caging you between him and John.
“Of course you’re hard already, you little slut.” You and John moan together at Bruce’s words, the blonde’s head falling back with a hiss as one of your hands trails down to his neck, squeezing slightly as your thumb runs over his rapidly fluttering pulse.
John's eyes fluttered shut briefly, a gasp escaping his lips as Bruce's hands joined yours in caressing his body, only to snap open in surprise when cold metal clasps around his wrists and the headboard.
“When did you–” He stutters a little, giving an experimental tug as his fingers flex.
“I’ve learned not to question it, you’ll go insane.” You murmur between kisses you trail down his chest and abdomen. His hips flex, arching into your touch until Bruce makes a chiding sound, a large palm snaking around you to hold him down.
“So impatient, both of you,” Bruce growls, nipping at your shoulder before he tugs you back against his chest, nudging your thighs open with his own.
“Can you blame me, Bats?" John rasped, his voice hoarse with desire. “I see two gorgeous people and I can't help but want to test the limits a bit.”
“Such a brat, someone should teach you a lesson,” Bruce growled, his grip tightening.
John gasped, “I'm all for it, love. Knock some manners into me. Put me in my place.”
"You're a mouthy one, aren't you? Let's see if we can't find something better for you to do with your tongue besides run it."
John let out a surprised sound as Bruce captured his lips this time, biting down on his lower lip as your thumbs ran soothing circles over his hipbones.
“Tell me, Johnny, how long have you wanted this? To be at our mercy?” You coo, delighting in the way his muscles flexed beneath your touch, straining against his bonds to try and reach for you or Bruce.
“I…” he trails off, eyes following the movement of Bruce’s hands as they trail down your sides, one gripping your thigh to hold you in place as the other dips between your legs.
He watched, entranced, until suddenly Bruce was tugging on his hair harshly and forcing him to look into Bruce’s, “She asked you a question, Constantine.”
“I…” He stutters once more, swallowing deeply to try and focus over the sudden sounds of your pretty moans. “Since I first saw you, both of you.” John strains against his bonds once more, aching to reach out and touch you as you grind down against Bruce’s fingers, mouth open in bliss.
“That wasn’t so hard now, was it, Johnny?” Bruce teased, lethargically working you open as you relied on him to hold your weight up.
John, meanwhile, was completely enraptured by the sight before him, powerless to do anything but watch, his entire body tense.
“Isn’t my wife gorgeous?” Bruce hummed against your neck, eyes never leaving Constantine’s face as he nodded frantically. “Use your words, John. Tell us how pretty you think she is.”
John swallows heavily, his throat bobbing as he stares at your bare body “Beautiful,” he manages to get out finally, eyes dragging greedily over your curves. “Stunning,” he corrects, gaze lingering on the marks Bruce left on your throat. “Bloody sinful.”
John watched every moment, his eyes practically glued to you both, his hips arching off the mattress in desperate need for stimulation of his own.
“Good boy.” Bruce praises, nipping playfully at the shell of your ear. You whimper again, pressing your thighs together unconsciously. “What else do you like about my wife?”
John's eyes darken further at the reminder of your status, clenching his jaw. It's almost painful to watch as Bruce caresses you, doing what he desperately wants to. His knuckles are white as he strains against the handcuffs, cock twitching.
“Everything,” John pants, his gaze flickering from you to Bruce and back. “Bloody everything.” His eyes rove over your body again, drinking in every inch as if he wants to commit you to memory.
“She's perfect. So bloody perfect,” he breathes, his words ending on a note between a laugh and a moan. “And smart, so bloody clever. And a mouth made for–” He sucks in a sharp breath, cutting himself off, still a little unsure of the boundaries.
Bruce chuckles, his breath warm against your neck. “She is quite good at that,” he murmurs. “Always eager to be a good girl. Aren’t you, baby?”
You nod desperately, whining when Bruce retracts his fingers, only to eagerly slide them into your mouth, tongue swirling around his digits before he pulls them free with a pop. “Why don’t you show Johnny how good you can be?”
Bruce slides back, allowing you more space to lean down, arching your back as you stare up at John. “You look so pretty like this, Johnny,” you hummed, “All tied up and wanting.”
John shivered under your touch. “Please, love”, he begged, his voice cracking with desperation. “I need– Fuck!” He swears, throwing his head back when you suddenly take him in your mouth. You hum in amusement, the vibrations making John see stars.
The taste of salty pre-cum on your tongue was as intoxicating as the sight of him beneath you, his body trembling with need. “God, you're delicious,” you murmured.
His fists clench, teeth digging into his lower lip as your hands migrate to his hips, preventing him from thrusting into your mouth as you slowly swirl your tongue around his leaking tip. All the while, your eyes never leave his face, relishing in the way his cheeks flush, sweat dripping down his temples.
“Look at you, so needy,” Bruce said, leaning over to capture John’s earlobe between his teeth. “Such a pretty little slut.” You hum again in agreement, and John jolts beneath you.
“Fuck, darlin, if you keep that up m’not gonna last.” He pants, too blissed out to be embarrassed at how quickly he’s about to cum from the glorious sensations your warm mouth provides.
It’s your fault, really, for teasing him so relentlessly, leaving him aching for your touch over the past few hours.
Your only answer is taking him deeper into your mouth, head bobbing as your nose brushes against his pelvis, one of your hands moving to grip his ass. “Christ!” He hisses, heels digging into the mattress as his thigh muscles tremble.
Suddenly, there’s a hand on the back of your neck, tugging you back upright against Bruce’s chest, causing you and John to let out whines of frustration. “Not yet. You haven’t earned it.” Bruce grunts, sliding his cock between your wet folds, barely giving you any warning before he lifts your hips before practically slamming you down.
John's eyes go wide as he watches you sink down on Bruce, a sharp gasp escaping his lips at the sight, unable to look away from the erotic display before him, his body still burning from the orgasm he’d been denied.
"God, you two look so good," he groaned, his voice hoarse and low. He wanted more than anything to touch himself, to touch you or Bruce, something, anything to help relieve the ache.
One of Bruce’s hands slinked around to rub at your clit as he roughly bounced you up and down on his cock like a ragdoll, your head falling back against his shoulder, mouth open in ecstasy.
The sight of you, head thrown back in pleasure, was almost too much for John to handle. He was straining against the cuffs, his wrists undoubtedly bruising. “You cruel, beautiful people,” he groaned, “Making me watch but not letting me touch... It's torture.”
“You deserve a little torture, don't you think?” Bruce asked, his tone playful, but slightly strained as he maintained his pace. “You've been such a brat, after all.”
“I... please... I'll behave,” John promised, his words coming out in ragged pants. His pride long forgotten in his need to cum.
You moan loudly at his words, and Bruce’s rhythm falters a little, showcasing a crack in his composure. It seemed John wasn’t the only one worked up from tonight’s teasing.
As pretty as John looked, you decided to take pity, wanting nothing more than to have him in your mouth once more. You leaned forward, your breath ghosting over the tip of his cock. Bruce doesn’t stop you, and you take it as all the permission you need, your tongue darting out to tease the sensitive head of John’s cock.
Bruce leaned over your back, watching, mesmerised by the sight. “You look so pretty with your mouth full,” he muttered, his hands groping your tits and ass, each thrust pushing you further down John’s cock.
“Please, please, please,” John panted, his body arching, “Bruce... I can't, I can't…”
“You will,” Bruce replied, his tone brooking no room for argument. His eyes were dark as he watched you take John's length deeper, his gaze flickering from your mouth to the way the blond was begging beneath you. “You'll be patient, taking what we give you, and you'll be damn grateful for it.”
Suddenly you pulled off John with a pop, moaning desperately “Bruce, baby, need to cum.”
Bruce’s hips stuttered, his hand moving to gently cradle your cheek. “Yeah, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice low and rough.
You nodded, your words nothing but a needy whimper. "Please," you begged, barely even able to say that.
“Alright, baby. Since you asked so nicely…” He grunted, smacking your ass before his hand slid around your front, middle finger providing the perfect amount of pressure on your clit.
John, however, groaned in protest, “And what about me?” his frustration evident, brattiness slipping back into his tone. “What about what I need?”
“Thought I already told you to be patient, Constantine.” Bruce growled, before a wicked smirk crossed his face, “Besides, kids are out of the house for a few days, we’ve got all the time in the world.” John whimpers at the thought, though the sound is drowned out as you cum with a wail, slumping against his chest.
Bruce, however, is far from finished. If you and John wanted to tease him, then you’d deal with the consequences.
pairing: John Constantine x f! reader (has a pussy + fem pronouns)
summary:: in the middle of sex, you accidentally confess your love for John
cw: 1.2k, fwb, nsfw but not rlly smut, casual sex, missionary, love confessions, hurt/comfort, angst -> fluff, smoking cigarettes, happy ending
froggi yaps -> yeah idk where this came from <3 constantine enjoyers come get your dinner !!
The room stills when you speak, those three words tumbling off your lips before you can stop them.
“I love you.” You say, and John freezes inside of you.
The room goes quiet, the sounds of skin on skin and John’s whines dissipating. The air grows charged, tension flooding every crevice.
You freeze, too. Your own words echo around your mind, followed by a chorus of ‘why the fuck would I say that?’
And the worst part about all of this isn’t the shocked look on Constantine’s face or the sudden sharp beat of your heart. The worst part is that you mean it. You mean it with every fiber of your being and that only makes this more unbearable.
The words had been at the forefront of your mind for a while. Every midnight cigarette and afternoon coffee, they circled around your head. Every time he fucked you, every time he held you afterwards, they filled your presence. But every time you tried to speak them out loud, they disappeared.
Which leaves you with the question: who the fuck says ‘I love you’ during sex?
By the furrow of his brows and the way his cock has stilled inside of you, you’re sure John must be thinking the same thing.
“S-sorry,” you start, unfurling your fingers from the back of his neck.
You hold your breath, waiting for him to pull out and leave you with that horrible empty feeling. You wait for him to move away, to say something, to leave. And yet he stays still, length nestled deep in your folds, chest rising and falling harshly.
The way he’s looking at you—looking through you—only makes the shame in your chest burn brighter.
“I-I don’t know—that just slipped out.” You bring a hand down to rub at your face, as if you could rub away your embarrassment, “I don’t know why I said that.”
You keep your hand over your face, half-covering your eyes so you don’t have to see his reaction. He shifts his weight back onto his knees, his cock slipping halfway out of you.
His voice is raspy when he speaks. “Did you mean it?”
You blink, splitting your middle and ring fingers apart so you can look at him through your hand. There’s a serious—all too serious for it being 2am and him having his dick inside of you—look on his face.
A look that tells you he’ll know if you lie, that whatever you say next, determines what route your relationship takes from here.
You take a deep breath, letting the cold air seeping through your open window wash over you. “I did.”
He hums lowly, taking it into consideration. His silence hangs over you like a knife, threatening to cut through you at any moment. You close your eyes, tilting your head as far back as it’ll go.
“We don’t have to do this, it’s okay. That was weird and I’m sorry and we can—we can just forget all about it, okay? No harm, no—”
He cuts off your rambling by rolling his hips into yours, your monologue cut off with a whimper.
“None of that, love.” Though you can’t see him, you can feel his eyes on your face, “say it again.”
You shake your head frantically, entirely unwilling to put yourself through the utter humiliation of that moment.
“You don’t want to say it again?” The hurt bleeds through the playfulness he tries to mask it with. “Well, why not?”
“I-I’m embarrassed.”
“Of loving me?”
And the sheer sadness in his voice sends pain radiating from your chest. You blink slowly, trying to make sense of your own thoughts. How could you possibly begin to describe to him what you’re feeling right now?
He pulls out of you, reaching over the side of the bed, and for a minute, you’re scared he’s going to leave. You clench up, and without thinking, you’re pulling yourself into a sitting position and wrapping your arms around his shoulders.
“Don’t go.” You plead into the skin of his shoulder, “please don’t go.”
His eyes are wide for a moment but the angst that had flooded his features dissipates into soft, quiet laughter. “I’m not going anywhere, love. Was just grabbing these.”
He shows you the pack of cigarettes and the lighter he’d just pulled from the pocket of his jeans. “I figured we could both use one.”
You slowly unfurl yourself from him, letting yourself fall back into the pillows. You watch him through your lashes as he lights the cigarette and takes a long drag. The smoke curls around him, the scent of them a comfort to you.
You part your lips and he places it between them, holding it in place while you take a drag. On a better night, you’d force him to go down to the street, berate him for even asking to smoke in your apartment. But tonight, naked and vulnerable, the open window of your bedroom will have to suffice.
“So,” he says between puffs, “you’re embarrassed by me.”
“I—no, I’m not embarrassed by you. It just came out at a bad time.” You take a deep breath, “I do love you. I love you a lot.”
Say it back, you pray. Please.
“You’re not embarrassed by me,” he says slowly.
“Not at all.”
Please hurry this up. Please say it back. Please.
“And you really do love me.”
“I do.”
Say it back, say it back, say it back.
“That’s…unfortunate.”
All your hope dies in your chest. He passes the cigarette back to you but the nicotine tastes bitter on your tongue now. Tears prick at your lash line but you’ll be damned if you cry like this—naked, cold and spread beneath him.
“Unfortunate,” you repeat, and you hate the way your voice breaks on the word.
“I’m sort of a magnet for bad luck, love. I—hell, are you crying?”
You shake your head but it’s obvious from your bloodshot eyes and the tears on your cheeks that it’s a lie. He takes the cigarette from you and puts it out between his fingers, ditching the bud on your nightstand.
“Why are you crying, love?”
Again, you shake your head, hoping if you deny it enough he’ll leave the subject alone. Instead, he rolls to the side and lays on the bed next to you, his face too close to yours.
“I-I think you should go,” you hiccup.
Stubborn as ever, John refuses to leave. He rubs his hand over your cheek, wiping away the fat tears that linger on your skin.
“I love you,” he says finally.
And though relief floods you, bitterness does too.
As if he senses your doubt, he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “I wouldn’t be here every night if I didn’t. I wouldn’t spend the night or share my cigarettes or—”
He stops when you laugh, the sound easing the tension in the air. He grins at you—an actual, real grin.
“There you are,” he says and presses a chaste kiss to your lips, “I missed you.”
You pull him in for another kiss, longer this time, a little needier. Your voice is breathier now, “do you think we could…finish now?”
“Are you going to confess your love for me again?”
“Shut up.” You roll your eyes, “fuck me, I guess.”
Still, he grips your waist and rolls you onto your back, getting back on top of you. “Careful what you wish for, love.”
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thanks for reading & have a wonderful week /ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡
Bruce: oh come on, just because I have a high chance of being consumed by evil if I do magic -which is why I'm not allowed to do magic- doesn't mean he will! That's just a kid's saying!
Constantine: uh huh
-------------------------------
Red hood! Jason: *all-blades in hand* Sup motherfuckers guess who's back
Constantine: I FUCKING KNEW IT
Sometimes she picks up on your emotions before you even recognize them yourself. She’ll make tea and say, “You don’t have to talk, just sit with me.”
Jean is normally calm and kind, but if someone hurts you emotionally or physically, she will not hesitate to unleash a quiet, terrifying fury.
NSFW:
She hums in your mind when she’s happy. If you're far apart, you'll occasionally feel her presence—like a mental hand on your shoulder.
Jean doesn’t even have to touch you to get you flustered. She’ll brush suggestive thoughts across your mind mid-conversation, all while looking completely innocent.
Jean’s hair always ends up a mess after being alone with you. Rogue teases her about it. She never denies it.
"You keep looking at me like that… Do you want me to touch your body, or your mind first?"
Jean rarely tops. She prefers to give complete trust to her partner when she can.
Storm:
Listening to: My Girlfriend Is a Witch by October Country
SFW:
She’ll summon a gentle rain so you can dance with her barefoot in the garden. It’s one of her favorite bonding activities.
She’s so wise it’s intimidating at first, but she believes in your potential more than you do. She challenges you with love.
Ororo helps ground you. If you're spiraling, she’ll pull you close and quietly say, “Breathe with me. Like the wind: steady, free.”
NSFW:
Ororo doesn’t need to raise her voice—when she drops it low and soft, it rumbles through you. When she calls you “beloved,” it’s a whole-body experience.
Her touch sparks static. Literally. She drags her fingers over your skin and watches the goosebumps bloom with a smirk.
"Remove your armor. You won’t need it where I intend to take you"
She guides you more than she kisses you. Every move is deliberate, like she’s orchestrating your reactions. (And she is.)
Jubilee:
Listening to: Slumber Party by Ashnikko and Princess Nokia
SFW:
Jubilee drags you out for pizza, neon-lit arcades, or spontaneous bowling at 1 a.m. She’s chaos and comfort in a leather jacket.
She shoots tiny sparkles whenever you kiss her. It’s involuntary and adorable, and she gets flustered every time.
She’ll rope you into protests, graffiti nights (the fun kind), and passionate debates about mutant rights. You love her fire, literally and figuratively.
NSFW:
Her love language? Teasing. She’ll play footsie under the table, whisper dumb innuendos, and sparkle when you finally break.
Those “Netflix and cuddle” nights? End with her setting off tiny fireworks above your head in sync with your heartbeat.
"Five seconds alone with you and I’ll have sparks flying, literally. Wanna test me?"
Jubilee has a knack for pulling you into broom closets or behind Danger Room barriers with a wink and, “Five minutes. Bet you can’t behave.”
Morph:
Listening to: I/Me/Myself by Will Wood
SFW:
They constantly impersonate your friends (especially Logan or Gambit) just to get you to smile when you’re down.
They don’t always feel like “themself.” You help them anchor their sense of self, remind them they’re not broken, and that love doesn’t depend on form.
NSFW:
You become the ultimate prank couple, messing with Logan or Gambit. Morph insists it’s “for morale.”
Morph shapeshifts into your celebrity crush, or maybe that villain you have no business finding attractive and leans against the door with a smirk before saying, “So, you like bad boys, huh?”
You never know what to expect with them. One night it’s soft and sweet, the next they've jokingly turned into Logan mid-makeout.
"Tell me who you want tonight. Your favorite movie star? Your worst enemy? Me pretending to be you? I’ll make it weird—or wonderful"
They’ll whisper the dirtiest things over comms while you’re fighting Sentinels, just to throw you off your game.
Sunspot:
Listening to: I Miss Having Sex But At Least I Don't Wanna Die Anymore by Waterparks
SFW:
He teases you relentlessly around others but whispers sweet, earnest things when you’re alone.
NSFW:
Roberto always finds a way to whisk you off to the beach, even if it’s just a mental escape or a Danger Room projection.
He spoils you with designer clothes, candlelit dinners, exotic perfumes, but he always makes sure you know it’s about you, not the glam.
His body heat spikes when he’s turned on. His fingers burn through fabric, and kissing him is like pressing against a bonfire.
Roberto enjoys doing sex semi-public, or at least close enough so you two don't get in trouble.
"Careful, meu amor... I burn hotter the closer you get. Want to find out just how much?"
He’ll whisper in Portuguese in your ear when he wants to watch you squirm. You don’t know what he said, but you feel it.
Magneto:
Listening to: Rein raus by Rammstein
SFW:
Erik courts his partners like he would back them. He writes you handwritten letters, pulls out chairs, and takes you dancing to classical music. His courtship is timeless.
He doesn’t do small gestures. He floats you to the Eiffel Tower at midnight. He bends iron into perfect roses. It’s all love and looming intensity.
Everyone sees him as cold or calculating, but you know the version who brushes your hair behind your ear and says, “You bring me peace.”
NSFW:
He can control the metal in your zipper, your belt, your necklace...and he does. Very, very slowly. While holding your gaze.
He doesn’t always stay on the ground when things get intense. You’ve floated during kisses before. Sometimes it’s just easier to pin you to the ceiling.
He doesn’t do soft until you earn it. When he lets his guard down and lets you guide him it’s intimate like worship.
"Do not tempt me, unless you are prepared to be utterly undone. I don’t give myself... I claim."
