Warnings: NSFW content (Minors Do Not Interact), Extremely dubious consent, fingering, near drowning, Constantine is bad with emotions. Brief scenes with smoking (it's Constantine). Angst. This is fanfiction, please DO NOT try this at home!
Summary: Constantine needs a backdoor into Heaven. That task involves you, a bathtub, and his very skilled fingers.
AO3 Link
A/N: This fic is dedicated to Ginny aka opheliainlove42. She has long since deactivated but she wrote amazing fics for the Keanuverse fandom. She is one of the people that encouraged me to start writing for this fandom and I cannot thank her enough. This is for you, Ginny, wherever you are 💜
I consider this fic in the same Constantine universe as Little Favors so yet another mess he puts the poor reader through.
Also thank you to @pointbreakvhs for beta reading this fic. 🤍
Thank you to @atomic-groupie for being my writing accountability partner. 💚
Divider credits to @jjaksclayton 🖤
Gif credits to @scamarcio
Oh the places a simple crush can land you. Going along with John Constantine frequently has you questioning your own sanity. It shouldn't surprise you. When someone deals with demons for a living, they must have experimental hobbies—you just didn't expect to be included in this next one.
Constantine first introduced this hobby to you one drizzly evening while eating your favorite takeout together. The comfort food paired nicely with the casual atmosphere and smooth blanket of rainwater cascading down your apartment windows. You took another bite while watching two wayward water droplets race along the pane. A soft prickle traveled from the back of your neck and up to the tips of your ears.
Each of your senses flared when you came in close proximity to Constantine, especially when his eyes were on you. You were hopeless. You weren't sure what stage of infatuation you were in when every millimeter of your body heated up when any amount of his attention was on you. It didn't matter what emotion: he could be melancholic, cranky, irate, or amused—you've never seen Constantine fully happy—they all brought about the same reaction.
You try, and fail, to ignore the obvious heat budding in your face. Turning, you see the umber shades of his irises dimmed by exhaustion and bad habits.
"I need a back door into Heaven." It was concerning how nonchalant he could be when discussing matters of the divine.
"Oh really?" You've learned to always hear him out no matter how impossible it sounds.
With a lazy draw of his freshly lit cigarette, he continues. "I need to get into Heaven for work purposes. However I can't simply fly through the pearly gates, that would bring too much attention."
Seems simple enough. "How do you plan on getting there?"
"Whenever I say 'I'll try anything once,' this is not what I mean!"
Constantine twists one of the squeaky knobs on the porcelain bathtub. Steam curls around his unnaturally pallid face. He was sickly looking like a Victorian child but with the constitution of a 70s rock star. His brow furrowed in concentration while testing the water's temperature.
"Can't give away all my plans. You would back out every time if I did." A smirk ghosts across his lips when looking at your apprehensive expression.
"I love—" you caught yourself. "I'm happy to help you, but I've never put my life in danger for you…"
"Don't trust me?" His eyebrow raise would be enough to end you.
"It's not that," you sigh, sitting on the edge of the tub next to him. "What if I crossover and don't come back? Or at worst I end up going to Hell instead—"
Constantine grabbed your hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. His fingers are warm and still wet from the bathwater, their touch lighting up your nervous system like electricity. His demeanor was deadly serious, burning you as if you were one of those wretched demons he fights.
"I've got you." His other hand trailed from your shoulder to your elbow, holding you firmly. "I'm going to be with you the whole time. If anything happens, I'll pull you out."
If Constantine is anything, he is persuasive with you. If his hands weren't already on you, you'd be jumping in the water immediately.
Instead you stand up and unzip your jacket, revealing your tank top. You internally preened when his eyes trailed your torso and locked onto the button of your pants.
"I'm already drowning myself for you. You don't get a show." You tease, earning a soft exhale—the closest you've ever gotten to a laugh—from him.
"Understood." He whispers, taking your hand and guiding you into the bathtub like an uncommonly gentleman.
The tepid water envelopes you in a rolling embrace. Constantine keeps a hand to your back while you sat with your legs out. "I understand water is a common method of going between worlds but how long exactly will I be submerged?"
"As long as it takes." There he goes again with the edgy vagueness you simultaneously love and loathe. "Remember—"
"Heaven and Hell are closer to us than you realize." You complete his saying.
"Good girl."
Oh that bastard.
"W-well, I—" you stammer.
"Lie back." He commands softly.
He'd rolled up his sleeves, exposing his pale forearms and the split Red King alchemy tattoos. The same hand on your back lowers you below the surface. It was a strange parody of a baptism—with Constantine as your unorthodox priest and you being his ever so faithful follower. This dangerous exercise would prove to you just how far you're willing to go for your faith in him.
The reality of your situation pressed down on you like Constantine's hand currently resting against your sternum. He plays fast and loose with his own mortality, you are all too aware he held your own quite literally in his hands. There's nothing else for you to do but close your eyes and wait for your life to inch recklessly towards the edge with only John's word that he'll save you from oblivion.
Moments passed like grains of sand in an hourglass. It was far too late to give up now; even if you wanted to get out, Constantine was far to strong. In fact, his hand on your chest pinned you with even more force while his other hand—was unbuttoning your pants.
Wait…this wasn't part of the deal…
You open your eyes and see through the surface of the water Constantine looming over you like an angel of death. His gaze leers at you. Gone was the teasing and his sardonic attitude; dark eyes like voids threatening to overtake you in their abyss.
He pulls down on your pants zipper. Panic floods your mind and you try pushing or kicking him away. It's no use, he deflects every one of your feeble attempts at fighting him off. Exhaustion from being underwater slowed your struggling. Before he continued touching you, he held both your wrists while his other hand rested firmly on your thigh, squeezing it tightly.
He expression didn't waver but through the panic of your body in fight or flight, you barely captured a glimpse into his eyes yet again. Heat flickered in the darkness, looking at you with longing: raw and unable to be hidden.
Trust me, he seemed to tell you. Let me take you to Heaven.
Loving Constantine is hazardous but he was going to make it all worth it. His hand moved from your thigh and plunged under your waistband, thumb circling your clit through your underwear in torturous circles before pulling them to the side. It took every ounce of your willpower not to moan and release your precious air when he breached your entrance with two long fingers.
With the risk of your life, he had to work fast. His skilled fingers set a fast rhythm making your back arch and your hands grip the sides of the tub. He must use some of his divine magic to give you this much intense pleasure. How else would he make you feel this good?
He adds a third finger and the world around you goes blurry. Your arm shoots out of the water and you grab onto his bicep. His muscles flexed with every thrust and curl inside you, making you tighten and melt beneath him.
This must be Heaven. Goes your final thought before your vision goes white, your brain shuts off, and you scream…
There is brightness all around you gradually fading back into nothingness before you finally register Constantine's lips on yours giving you the kiss of life. Once conscious, he gently rotates you on your side to get the rest of the water out of your lungs.
"There you are, sweetheart," he rubs your back. "Welcome back."
Pushing yourself off the floor, you take in your surroundings. John had pulled you out of the bathtub, his white shirt was soaked through. You knew you were alert and cognizant when your attention pinpointed the material clinging to his lean torso and emphasizing the muscles there.
"I hope you got into Heaven because I am not doing that ever again," your tone was exasperated as he draped a fluffy towel around your shoulders.
"I did," he helped you stand up and steered you towards his bed. "It was only a second for us but to angels that is how long eternity is."
John gets you another towel while you dry off. Looking down at yourself, you notice your pants had been zipped up again. Butterflies violently swarmed in your stomach while he was carrying himself as if what he did to you never happened.
You couldn't bear ignoring what just happened to you. He will not evade this explanation. "John…"
This gives him pause, coming back to your side and assisted toweling your arms and shoulders. "Yes sweetheart?"
"I was not expecting your hands—" you bite your lip. "And everything else that happened…"
"I know." He says, wrapping a protective arm around you.
"I liked it," you laugh despite the situation. "But maybe give a little warning next time…"
"I'll remember that." He smirks.
"Why?" So much was loaded behind your one-word question.
"Euphoria is what guarantees Heaven. Death alone is only a fifty-fifty shot." He states matter-of-factly.
"Of course," you comment sarcastically. "The saying is 'at least buy me dinner first' but in this case, will you take me to dinner now?"
"Let's go." He helps put your jacket back on before doing the same to himself and you two leave his apartment for your favorite fancy restaurant.
Solace was too simple a word to describe how Constantine felt when Heaven gave you back to him. He may work with celestial beings, but no angel in Heaven compares to the light you bring to his life. If he was honest with himself, he knew you deserved so much better than someone as damaged as he is. But despite knowing this, he was still selfish and wanted to have you in any way he could.
It was just unfortunate the only way he could rationalize being with you physically was when Heaven or Hell was involved. Maybe one day he will be able to tell you how he really feels about you, but for now he was formulating the next mission he will need your "help" with.
A/N: I wanted to make a NSFW version of the bathtub scene from the movie and this was the result.
When I saw the movie Flying (1986) and in a scene, young Keanu was pissed off with the main character because she frienzoned him because she was in love with another guy who was pretty, rich and popular and he yells: You don't want me because I'm not pretty enough for you?!? And I screamed:No baby! You're beautiful! She's too stupid to realize her mistake! <3
LOL XD XD XD
OMG YEAH I REMEMBER THAT SCENE! 🩷He's such a cutie in that movie and it screamed jealousy. I really liked his vibes in that movie, laid back and acting like a prankster, yet still having some insecurities. That duality is very interesting imo 🥰And ikr hes so pretty and cute, she's too stupid to realize her mistake indeed 😂I'd haved dated him in a heartbeat!!
Pairing: Shark Hybrid!Johnny Utah x menstruating!reader 🌊
Warnings: Smut (Minors Do Not Interact), dub con, reader is on their period, menstrual sex, oral sex (f receiving), biting, monster fucking / teratophilia, shark hybrid. Blood and a shark hybrid? You do the math!
Word count: 1.3k
Summary: You unexpectedly get your period while on your beach vacation. In an attempt to relieve the cramps, you take a late night swim in the ocean…you soon learn what happens when a shark scents blood in the water.
A/N: For @pointbreakvhs 🤍Enjoy your shark husband 🦈
Shark Hybrid Utah edit done by @atomic-groupie 💚
Thank you to @jjaksclayton and @atomic-groupie once again for being awesome beta readers 💛💚
Also special thanks to @arch-b1sh0p and @misspsychoticfics for being my shark consultants 💗💜
Divider credit: @jjaksclayton ❤
You don't ask for much. All you wanted was a relaxing weekend getaway to the beach—with the picturesque sunshine reflecting over the turquoise waves, the grainy pliable sand squishing between your toes, and all the free time to unwind from the monotony of life…and then Mother Nature decided to pay you an uninvited visit and make your period come a week earlier.
Oh well. It could have been worse.
The rickety wooden door on the rental beach house closed with a dull thud while you grabbed your faded towel hanging off the porch's railing. A little bleeding isn't going to stop you from enjoying the water, you tell yourself once you plopped your cover up and towel a safe distance from the tide. The hazy glow of the silvery moon was a beacon among the constantly churning darkness of the ocean. The muted shore's appearance was like a black and white movie playing on the old television set inside the house.
You were told swimming can help with menstrual pain. When the comforting cold of the sea reached past your waist, your mind was already forgetting the twinge of your misbehaving uterus. Now floating on your back, looking up at the pin-pricked dots across the vast sky, you were at peace. Right when your eyes started to close, you heard a loud splash.
Setting yourself upright in the water, you tuned your hearing towards the direction of the noise. It didn't take long for you to locate the source of the splash—just fifteen feet away from you, a dark gray fin materialized out from the depths. You seized up, two thoughts echoing in your mind like an alarm bell: A shark and blood in the water. A deadly combination that puts a big red target on you.
Not wanting to provoke the shark, you gradually began swimming back to the safety of the shore. But your movement, as careful as it was, still managed to alert it. Its fin angled straight on to your retreating form, the sound of more splashing making you throw caution to the wind and paddle frantically back.
When the first padding of sand touches your foot, relief coated your flared up nerves. Pulling yourself up, you turned to look back at the foiled shark. What happened next was mere seconds, but time slowed down to an agonizing crawl to prolong your impending doom.
The fin disappeared under the inky waters before an unusually massive billow crested. The predator emerged, reaching towards you with—hands?
At first glance, the creature had the convincing veneer of a handsome young man. His dark hair had been slicked back by the rushing tide, lingering water droplets adorned his broad shoulders and lean torso like crystal freckles. His face looked like it belonged to a Disney prince, with just enough softness to complement his masculine features. But the closer his form got, the more the uncanny valley settled in. His skin tone had an unmistakably gray hue, a shade that could not be explained away with sickness or temperature. But the feature that caught your attention—and your fright—were his fathomless eyes the color of shining onyx. No irises or sclera in sight, just a harsh confrontation of your shocked reflection staring back at you.
A webbed hand grasped your ankle, yanking your body back in the water. Your peril was finalized when his other hand ripped apart the bottom half of your swimsuit, and his nose buried in your bleeding crotch.
"You. Smell. Good…"
His distorted deep voice rumbled like the tumultuous waves dragging you under. A final scream escaped your throat when his razor pointed teeth sunk into your tender inner thigh.
So this was your fate: him keeping you under the water close enough to the shore with your face barely above the surface, taunting you with the air while you became dinner for the shark man. His mouth lets go, languidly scraping his large needle-like teeth towards the apex of your thighs. Your meager thrashing was no match for his superior strength or his nails threatening to pierce your flesh as he held your limbs further apart for his true prize.
Petrified with mortification, you faintly registered his head push between your legs again. The first slide of his silky tongue has you tensing up suddenly, the expert muscle collecting the first drops of your precious blood. His movements were relaxed and unhurried, savoring you like a delicacy—and to him, you were. His lips gave your clit a firm suck, your hands instinctively found his bobbing head and gripped the raven strands for dear life. This gesture earned a pleased growl from the shark man's gilled throat, making him double his efforts to bring you to a swift, intense climax.
Your mind was drowning in the whirlpool of sensation with this predator as both the perpetrator and your only anchor to sanity. But as he brought you nearer to the edge of pleasure—his head peeking above the surface and blazing eyes locked solely on you—you invite the insanity in with toes curling, back arching, and rolled back eyes.
He drinks up your orgasm and the last dregs of your blood, holding you close while the final twitches of the post-climatic haze fades to lazy bliss. The same webbed hand that held you captive was now resting comfortingly over your lower abdomen, his clawed thumb rubbing idle circles relieving any cramps you had left. After finally having his fill, he gently laid your slack body on the cusp of the coast, allowing you to recover and him to hover above you while the lower half of his shark body remained in the water.
While he watched over you, you were gifted a chance to take in the rest of his physiognomy. His once eclipsed eyes morphed into a more humanoid look, complete with pupils and irises presenting a warmer, surprisingly friendly shade of brown. You didn't notice before—given the circumstances of your non-traditional greeting—but his ears were fin-tipped and pressed flat against his head, as if expressing embarrassment for his voracious behavior. The picture was cute…if it wasn't for his lips and chin painted scarlet from his sloppy eating.
"I'm sorry," he says, not meeting your gaze while he rubs the last of your blood off of his face and hastily licks his fingers clean. "I normally do not go crazy like that." His eyes found yours again with a cheeky—and razor-teethed—grin. "But you do smell good. And taste even better."
His voice no longer had the hunger-driven predatory distortion marring the calming timbre, which in itself made his words and the casual way of saying them more spine-tingling.
You don't know how to respond other than saying: "I take that as a compliment, Mr. Shark."
He laughs heartily. "My name's Johnny Utah."
An ironically ordinary name for someone obviously anything but ordinary, you thought to yourself, but you were not about to make cheeky comments to the very blood-motivated shark man.
Once his laughter dies down, his expression turns serious again. "Thank you for feeding me…Would you ever allow me to make it up to you and have a much more appropriate welcome to the ocean?"
You brain was reeling from this once bestial creature now acting so human, with shyness and hopefulness tinging his offer. It was enough to convince you despite his hunter's instincts shown just moments ago. You could worry about your poor decision-making later.
"I would love to, Johnny." Your answer was met with a wide, pointed smile. He was adorable—fins, tail, teeth and all.
He watched you walk back to your beach house, waving goodbye until the door closed on your retreating form. He couldn't wait to see you again as early as tomorrow morning, knowing that the beach will be closed due to a "shark sighting."
A/N: I was thinking about making a part 2 with a sweeter tone with Shark Utah. Let me know if you want more of him! 🦈
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