#constantine 2014

[opossumabbot]

John get ye fuckin attack dog

[hannaloony]

Dead boy detectives x Constantine

[wonwounds]

꒰ holy ground ꒱ john never imagined himself dating a regular civilian. but seeing a someone helpless who happened to be the most beautiful person he’d ever seen—well, the rest was history.

John Constantine who; strayed away from anything serious when it came to civilians. But that came crumbling down the second his eyes landed on you that fateful day in the grocery store across from his favorite run down tobacco shops.

He’d halted in his steps — literally. His body frozen in the bread isle as he watched the scene unfold in front of him; you on your tip-toes, brows scrunched, and bottom lip tugged between your teeth. You were struggling to grasp a bag of everything bagels just out of your reach.

The trench coat around him brushed back behind his hands that were stuffed into his pockets. He debated on approaching to help a pretty woman in need, but he knew very well he should not get involved.

Nonetheless, his feet worked without his consent until he was standing less than three feet away, amusement tugging at his lips as he admired your persistence.

Feeling a presence, you’d turned to see the dirty blonde, shaggy haired, scruffy man smirking up at you. “May I help you?” Your eyes narrowed suspiciously despite the flutter of your heart.

Sure, he was rough around the edges.. but it was oddly charming in a way.

“Looking like you’re the one who needs s’help.” A thick Scouse accent slipping from his lips had your heart rate skyrocketing and expression growing more perplexed.

John liked that about you. No matter what, your face expressed exactly what you were feeing. It was comforting in the long run.

You’d huffed, falling flat on your feet and crossing your arms in defense. “Excuse you, mister-“

To your further annoyance and his smugness, he brushed against your side, grabbing the bag for you. And just like that, the both of you were screwed.

John knew he shouldn’t involve you in his life. You didn’t deserve that torture. But he found falling in loving with you was harder to stop than usual.

You’d accepted his lifestyle fairly easy, though you were sure you’d started sleeping less since you two began dating.. a small loss to win so much.

Likes, comments, and reblog’s are all appreciated! Lmk if you’d like to be tagged in any future dc/marvel/or john posts. Lowk uncharacteristic sorry… just had a thought. This is lowk a ramble. Idk.

@halfwayhearted @ickbite @bitterballad @ar4ujos @spidybaby @piastri-fvx

[devisedplan]

Cigarettes Before Sex

pairing: john constantine x roommate!reader

summary: what happens when john accidentally smoked a whole pack of laced cigarettes?

word count: 2.6k

tags: oneshot, reader is employed & has no description of appearance, smut, nsfw, mdni!, dubcon, sex pollen-ish trope, aphrodisiac, handjob, sub john, intercrural sex

a/n: 2014 matt ryan's constantine lives rent free in my head

+ funfact: aphrodisiac cigarettes are apparently a thing irl (not sure if it actually works though)

It had been a long and stressful week for John. After successfully exorcising a demon inhabiting an unlucky college student, all his body needed was a night of uninterrupted rest. In bed.

Instead, he found solace smoking and slouching on the living room couch, an arm behind his head as he stared at the ceiling.

"For god's sake. Open the damn window!" Your nose crinkled, coughing in exaggeration when you were hit with the familiar stench of smoke the second you walked into the apartment.

The thing was, you didn't care if he smoked. Just for once, a small part of you hoped he'd be a considerate roommate.

"Sorry, love," He apologised with a cheeky grin, taking a drag from the cancer stick between his fingers before blowing in your direction to get a rise out of you.

"One of those weeks?" You questioned him after noting the empty cigarette pack he tossed onto the table.

John grumbled in reply, and you knew him well enough not to push him further for details.

There were many instances that had made you consider moving out. One of which was the magic shenanigans you had to deal with.

It had been a traumatising and weird experience having to co-exist with someone like him. Once, he performed some ritual he insisted was absolutely necessary in your room, claiming the energy there was much more suitable than his.

News flash: it was just a lame excuse to not dirty his room.

The only reason keeping you from finding another place was the hefty price attached to the listings you were interested in. Maybe splitting rent and living with a man who summons demon(s) or did witchy stuff didn't sound as bad as compared to not being able to afford rent.

Before heading to your room to retire for the day, you grabbed a small snack that could fill you up temporarily. You couldn't care less about having a proper dinner after an exhausting 9 to 5 when all you could think of was plopping into the comfort of your bed ASAP.

A content sigh passed your lips when you crawled under the cool covers of your bed after a much needed warm shower. The feel of your worn-out muscles finally being able to stretch and relax onto the soft mattress below you was a blissful one. Looking at the time, you ended up scrolling through social media on your phone as you deemed it still too early to fall asleep.

It didn't take long for you to drift off with your phone loosely in your grip. That was until you were abruptly awoken from a series of knocks on your bedroom door.

"What the heck do you want?" You greeted your roommate in an annoyed tone.

"You're not secretly a witch, are you?" He asked with a slight grunt, body hunched over while his right arm leaned against the wall beside your room door for support.

"A witch? John, you and I both know that I don't meddle with that shit, unlike some people under this roof," You scoffed, unhappy at the accusation.

John ignored your words, pushing past you to enter your room, causing your eyebrows to furrow in confusion. Your expression morphed into a scowl when you saw him on your bed, face down on his stomach with his outside clothes. Yeah, you were very particular about clean clothes on your bed.

"John, seriously, what has gotten into you?" You asked, pinching at the bridge of your nose with a concerned look when you took in his disheveled state.

He looked like a wreck. All flushed and flustered as if he was having a fever.

Instinctively, you used the back of your hand to reach out to his forehead, trying to gauge the temperature of his body. An inaudible hiss escaped you the second you discerned how warm to the touch he felt. John, on the other hand, responded with a low groan when your cool hand made contact with his skin.

"Don't touch me, love," He grunted under his breath, a string of curses slipped out of his lips.

It was not unusual for him to be cursing. It was, however, bizarre for him to be acting as such.

"Then please enlighten me on what the hell is going on with you? And why'd you call me a witch?" You snapped at him, irritated yet curious to know what transpired.

"You didn't get back at me and put some sex curse on me, right, sweetheart?" He questioned you skeptically through gritted teeth whilst trying not to hump against your bed.

"What? No! Like I said — I. don't. mess. with. magic."

At the same time, your eyes averted, feeling awkward after seeing him not so subtly trying his best not to grind against your bed.

"Look. Why don't you get the hell out of my room and sort that out in your room?" You suggested looking elsewhere but him.

"Tried. Didn't work," He groaned painfully, making your eyes widen at his admission.

"I beg your finest pardon?" You blurted out, unable to contain your shock.

"Love, either you put a hex on me or, I unknowingly consumed something that is making me...." He paused, stopping himself from confessing something embarrassing.

"I am a 100% sure I did not ask some witch to curse you. Did you pissed someone off again?"

"Doubt so," He gruffly replied whilst attempting to not lower his hands to the now obvious tent pitching at the front of his pants.

"Then what the hell could be making you be like..... this?" You flailed your wrist towards his obvious arousal in an exasperated tone.

There was a moment of silence as you both got lost in thought wondering what the actual reason could be for him to be in such state.

"Might be the damn cigarettes."

"The one you just smoke through the whole pack?" You replied with an eyebrow raised.

"Took it from the college kid I helped to dispel the bloody demon."

When he said that, you couldn't helped but frown and and roll your eyes. Of course he would or for lack of better words, steal. He was the kind of guy to say he took it as a form of 'payment.'

"John, even I know better than to take random people's stuff! It could be dosed or something!"

With a scoff, you head out of your room to retrieve the box to see if there was any indicator of it being tampered with.

"Oh my god, are you blind? Did you not see the whole bloody packaging? Its aphrodisiac on sticks!"

"These may seem like normal cigarettes on the front. But if you had actually taken the time to even bother reading the back, you wouldn't have pop a damn boner!" Your eyebrows knitted, annoyed at his negligence as you continued to read the unorthodox warning label.

Nicotine Free.

Increased Sexual Arousal.

Increased Stamina.

"No wonder I felt more horny than relaxed," He murmured, earning a snort from you.

"Um, John. You better find a sex partner quick or I might have to call the ambulance for you."

"Wh-why?" He croaked out, barely holding it together trying to not touch himself for relief.

"It says you will need to uh... ejaculate as soon as possible and as many times as you need until you feel the effects wearing off. Especially if you took more than one. Or else..." You warned him with a nervous gulp.

"Else what?" He asked with furrowed brows, hands now gripping the sheets beneath him as he struggled with the arousal coursing through his body.

"Your heart might give out." You replied, making his eyes widened after hearing the bluntness in your response.

"Why don't you help me then?"

Your head turned to meet his eyes and you couldn't stop yourself from glaring at his suggestion. Sure, you two might have bantered and flirt every now and then. Most of the time though, it was just in a playful manner and nothing more. At least that was how you perceived it.

"You said it yourself sweetheart. I have to find someone quick," He sat up on your bed, making himself comfortable against the headboard and your pillows.

Taking a deep breath, you started to contemplate. Between the two of you, you were the only one capable to think rationally since John was practically incapacitated.

The last thing you had expected was for him to suddenly get off the bed, on his knees, begging for your helping hand for anything in return.

Just your hands.

He promised. Arms wrapped around the back of your thighs as he mumbled his pleas repeatedly against your abdomen.

You would be lying if you didn't find the sight and offer laid before you enticing. Closing your eyes, you let out a huge breath as you pondered over your decision.

"Please, I will do whatever you want. Wash the dishes for the week, laundry.....anything!" He begged with puppy eyes as he looked up to you.

"Fine. Only this time. Don't get any funny ideas after today," You caved in with a small sigh.

John nearly stood up at your approval, wanting to kiss you on the cheek to express his gratitude. What he did instead was placing quick pecks against your clothed tummy.

Your face flushed at that gesture. Just as you thought you couldn't get even more flustered, he started to rut against you slowly, moving and grinding his hips on your legs.

Fuck.

It was a sight to behold seeing him all needy. As if something primal within you was unlocked. Your fingers reached out to thread into his hair and without any hesitation, he leaned into your touch, gripping the back of your thighs more firmly.

"Bed."

All it took was that one word from you to make him scurry back onto your bed.

"You better not soil my covers. Now, pants off," You commanded, taking a step closer to the edge of the bed.

Your eyes zeroed in to the front of his pants in surprised when you saw the outline of his hardness twitched. A sly grin appeared on your face when you caught a glimpse of it.

He eagerly removed his shirt and unbuttoned his pants, shrugging it off with ease. Before joining him in bed, you threw a clean towel you got hold of in his direction.

"What? I just don't want your DNA on my bed."

Amidst the horniness, John still had the energy to muster a chuckle at your words.

Placing the towel beneath him, he laid on his back in anticipation. You let out a small snort at how eager he looked. As you slowly approached him, you decided to tease him by trailing your fingers delicately along his legs before placing both your thighs on either side of him, straddling him.

You could hear how affected he was from the noise he made. Felt him too. With a smug smile, you grounded your hips and was instantly rewarded with a moan from the man below you.

"Hands only you say?" You snickered, unable to hold back from toying with him a little.

"Stop teasing sweetheart. Do you want me to end up in the hospital?" John retorted impatiently when he realised you were poking fun at him.

A sinister chuckle left you as you peered down at his state. Beads of perspiration had formed just below the hairline on his forehead. Pupils blown wide. And who could miss the damp boxers?

"Alright, I will cease the foreplay," You said, taking him by surprise when you move your dominant hand to the front of his boxers and started palming him through the fabric.

His eyes shut immediately. Muttered curses spewed from his mouth as he succumb to the euphoric pleasure. When his eyes fluttered back open, they gazed into yours, half-lidded.

"There, there," You cooed mockingly before pulling down the waistband of his boxers.

His cock sprang up and settled against his stomach the moment it was no longer confined. You couldn't resist licking your lips while admiring the sight of his leaking cock.

The minute you finally wrapped your fingers around him, he felt himself slumped against your bed, head thrown back as he grasped to whatever pride he had left trying to not cum on the spot.

"Fuck, sweetheart. That's it," He grunted, lips parted as he looked to you in a haze.

You giggled when you elicit a groan from him by suddenly moving your hands fast without warning. Before you could react, spurts of his essence landed onto your hands.

"You're still hard," You stated, seeing how his cock was raring to release more load from the way it was twitching.

"Those cigarettes must be really potent."

"Love, please....." He whined, thrusting into your hand that was still wrapped around his cock.

A sick sense of satisfaction pooled within you as you watch him fuck himself into your hand. You tighten your hold and the effect was instantaneous. Unable to stifle your laughter, you grinned as you continued to still your hands around him.

"Fucking hell...." He groaned as his second orgasm ripped through him.

He was sensitive to the touch, legs quivering and yet, his arousal was showing no signs of going away.

"Shall we count how many times you have to cum till you are satiated?"

John glowered in reply to your teasing. That was however, quickly replaced with a pleasured look when you began to fist his cock, putting a little more pressure into your grip.

You had no idea how long you ended up jerking him off. All you remembered was him cursing and spewing filthy words at how good you made him feel.

"S'not enough. Need more...." He whimpered, his free hand reaching out to grab your wrist, guiding you to keep up with the pace he wanted.

"My hands are getting tired you know...You ought to do the rest of the work," You trailed off with a small smirk etched onto your lips.

He didn't have to be told twice. You were dazed when he suddenly sat up and pushed you onto your back.

"Joh-"

Your eyes widened when you felt him part your legs before sheathing himself in between the plush of your thighs.

The man was desperate, throwing you off guard. You were still in a state of shock as you looked down to where he was using your thighs as if it were his personal fleshlight.

This time you couldn't deny that you were getting worked up, aroused at just seeing him use you like an animal in a rut.

"Fuckfuckfuck-" He swore, before resting his forehead against your shoulders as the last orgasm was coaxed out of him.

"You are so getting me new bedsheet covers Constan-tine," You groaned in annoyance thinking he had dirtied your bed. Your eyebrows furrowed when you felt him smile against your shoulders.

"Don't have to sweetheart," He said confidently, placing a brief kiss on your collarbone before moving back slightly to get off you.

Confused, you moved from the spot you were laying on your back from and saw no stains below you.

"Did you or did you not cum?"

John only shrugged, slowly going back to his usual infuriating self. You stared at the man for a good minute, wanting to strangle him at seeing the expression on his face until realisation hits you.

He just had a dry orgasm.

Well, at least he was finally sated.

"Don't forget, you're doing the dishes and laundry for the week," You flicked at his forehead playfully, reminding him of his end of the bargain.

"Yeah, yeah. I will," He huffed unenthusiastically.

(creds: @/strangergraphics for the divider!)

[hellblazer-pervert]

[sthilarions]

Canonically-queer British supernatural PI in the supernatural sector of the DC universe who’s mostly-good but doomed to Hell and spends much of his time and energy trying to legalese or flee his way out of that, whose primary trauma involves a child being dragged undeservingly to Hell due to a botched demon summoning, who does his PI thing largely to try to cosmically compensate for his metaphysically-assumed-guilt, who has a weird relationship with the Endless, and is deeply in gay love with his concerningly loyal British BFF who can viably go by the nickname Chas, who is his muscle/meat shield and spent the 80s in the British-punk-music scene

Am I talking about John Constantine or Edwin Payne?

[cherlovespink]

better than me - john constantine

wc: 1.1k

synopsis: you and john fought, but this time he says something that even he knows went too far. 

warnings/ tags: just a little arguing, but this is a sad one :(, john yearning in a way that borders on ooc, emotionally guarded reader, established relationship 

(when he loves you but is unable to show it and also a wizard ok) 

Now playing:「✦A Lot’s Gonna Change - Weyes Blood✦」♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ.▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။|||||

while i don’t think he’d be the best partner, i think john constantine would know when he’d pushed you too far. 

you two fought, of course, but this time just felt different. you’d asked, practically begged him to explain why he couldn’t just be a bit safer while working on his cases. you engaged in similar work to his, yet you were smart enough to make a decent effort to look before you leap and tie up your loose ends. in your eyes, the way john went about dabbling in the occult was reckless, and it was starting to hurt. 

“don’t you ever think about what could happen? because with the shit you deal with, it wouldn’t just hurt you. think about chas…zee…anyone,” you trail off. you were too prideful to include yourself in that list out loud, but you knew he knew. 

he always knew. 

“what do you want me to say?” he sighs, tiredly falling back onto your couch, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. he rested his forehead in his hands like this conversation was giving him a migraine. 

“i don’t want you to say anything. i’m just…sick of you being so irresponsible. it’s inconsiderate,” you spit back, walking over to stand in front of him with your arms folded over your chest.

he continues to rest his head in his hands, not daring to say anything. john may have been reckless, but he wasn’t stupid enough to spit back some childish insult at you, now. 

“well?” you urge, feeling your anger and hurt rise up your throat in a burning sensation. 

before you can fit in another word, he snaps his head up to look at you. 

“well? well?! i don’t know what you want me to do. i mean…i put my life on the line everyday to do the things i do and…and this is what i get? you yelling at me for doing what i have to?” 

“oh please,” you roll your eyes. “john we’ve been doing this long enough that you know that’s not an excuse. the way you go about things isn’t just stupid…it’s selfish.” 

“well i can’t help the fact that…,” he trails off with that smug, exasperated grin on his face. 

“you can’t help what john? go on,” you egg him on, frustration lacing your every word. 

he takes a deep breath and looks back up at you. 

“i can’t help the fact that what i do is bigger than all of us...so it’s just more important than you.” 

you go to snap back, but stop yourself the second you process what he just said. you look down at your shoes, chest still heaving with lingering anger, as you repeat his words in your head. 

and, the worst part is, it’s not even shocking. startled couldn’t even properly describe what you’re feelings. no, what you feel deep in your gut is simple, unbridled, excruciating disappointment. 

“well,” you reply after a few moments, quiet in a way that reveals your fatigue. 

the second he looks back up to your eyes, he feels his chest squeeze with guilt. 

“come on, i didn’t…i didn’t mean that,” he starts weakly, quietly. because, no matter how many arguments you got in, no matter how many things you yelled at one another, he’d never said something so callously honest. 

you shake your head softly, averting your eyes out the window, because you knew tears would follow if you saw him again. you simply stare out at the city, dark and quiet, leaving the tension to fill your every sense. 

his blue eyes search your face desperately. while there was definitely a part of truth in what he said, he didn’t mean to hurt you. because, truthfully, despite john’s inability to put anything before his work, if anyone could come close to doing that, it would be you. always you. you’d become so important to him over the past few years—so much so that he’d admitted to himself he may not be able to go on without you, though he’d never tell you that. 

as his eyes drag over your cheek, your nose, your eyes—god, your eyes—he feels his heart ache. you just look so sad—so lost. and the second he sees those beautiful eyes start to glisten with tears, he can’t take it anymore. 

he sits up, gently wrapping his arms around your waist with intention only akin to how you would hold a delicate flower. and john was never one to baby you—he knew you hated that, and he viewed you as much too independent to even wish to treat you that way. however, this time, he knew he’d need to handle you with a new form of care. he wraps his arms around your waist until he can lean forward, resting his chin on your stomach to look up at you. 

“please…don’t cry over me, love,” he pleads softly, trying to coax you into looking down into his eyes. 

and, the second he sees you squeeze your eyes shut in an attempt to quell your tears, he shifts slightly, pressing a soft kiss over your shirt, right above your navel. 

“please…,” he whispers softly, lips still pressed to your stomach. 

“don’t waste your tears on someone like me…you deserve better than this…better than me,” he continues softly, feeling his throat tighten with every ragged breath he feels in your stomach. 

“i just…wish you…,” you choke out softly, finding the combination of your hurt and his lips on your stomach making it too hard to think. 

“wish what, love? tell me…” he coaxes, his usually rough voice sounding almost comically soft now. 

“i wish you just…cared about me like i do…,” you sniffle, resting your head in your hands choking out small sobs. 

you two may have never looked so pathetic together before. with your teary eyes hidden in your hands, and his guilty conscience buried in your stomach. this display of emotion was not normal for either of you—that may have been what made you usually work well together (to some extent). however, something about this felt intimate in a way you’d never explored before, and you knew he could feel it, too. 

he takes one more inhale of your skin beneath your shirt before looking back up to you. seeing you have your face hidden in your hands, he removes his hands from around you, only to reach up gently taking your hands from your face. he holds your hands in his as his eyes finally meet your misty ones. 

“oh, love,” he mutters, almost to himself, as he takes your hands and presses a kiss to both of them. “i care about you more than anything…,” he starts, looking back up into your pretty eyes.

“i just can’t handle nice things, can i?” 

[ridensmagus]

I made these. Go wild with em folks!

Enjoy!