constantine would be the type of man to gaslight an entire alien race into thinking human being are going extinct and are an endangered species so that earth can be protected and i feel like every time he gets reminded that he did that he starts laughing so hard hes crying and cannot breathe because its so fucking funny and supes when he did it was absolutely side eyeing the fuck out of constantine like this cannot be real
yes this is a headcanon and lowkey inspired by lilo and stitch
Premise: As Constantine's assistant, he tests your limits often. You know you're a smart, good girl. So when one wrong placed bet has you on your knees for Constantine as he enacts only your wildest fantasies, you don't know where you two stand anymore. You thought your little crush on him was buried deep, but it turns out you are willing to do much more than you ever want to admit. Tonight, he pushes you farther than you thought he ever would...
Tags/CW: MEAN!Constantine, bratty!reader, princess coded!reader, reader who thinks she's too good for you, leashed!reader, pet play, puppy!reader, bimbo-fied!reader, bdsm, age gap, p in v, f!reader, crybaby-ish!reader, crying kink, choking, AGGRESSIVE, oral (m receiving.), dub-ishcon, degradation, humiliation, praise kink, girl on top, raw, edging.
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You knew making a bet with Constantine was never the right move. Your pride got ahead of you, trailing behind it your ego, and your intelligence, that you love to portray in yourself, nowhere to be found. You knew there was no way you would be able to figure out how to hunt a demon all by yourself, you should have never accepted a bet that if you did, Constantine would start treating your training seriously. Now, you've lost, and on top of it, you agreed to do whatever Constantine said from now on. And that does mean, whatever he says, you soon realize...
"I am not doing that, Constantine!" You stomp a chunky heeled foot and fold your arms, trying to look mean and serious the way he does, but failing.
"What's wrong, you're such a 'goody-two-shoes' that you can't have some fun every now and then?" He takes a long draw from his cigarette, he's so close you can smell the cologne mixed with smoke coming from him.
It was bitter and spicy, only the smallest hint of sweetness.
"Fun? You think leashing me is some sort of 'fun' for me?" You scoff and glare as he blows smoke into your face, batting it away with one hand.
"Yeah, it'll loosen you up a bit. Maybe you can turn that bright mind of yours off while I tug on your leash and make you sit pretty." He gives you a thump in your forehead when he mocks your smart tendencies, and you feel anger rising even more.
Your cheeks go red and you know you just look even more pathetic when you're mad at like this.
"I don't see how any of this has to do with learning to hunt demons or helping you." You scoff and turn your eyes from him, completely baffled by the whole idea.
"It might teach you that you can't just go off on your own trying to slay a demon before you're ready. It also might show you where you fit in all of this..." He teases you, pull a lock of your hair between two of his fingers.
"And where's that? Beneath you?" You say it with disdain, but the truth is that you wouldn't mind that so much. The heat between the two of you has been brewing since you started the job with him. It was only a matter of time...
"Lighten up, Princess. It's just my way of pay back for you losing the bet. Besides, I might even give you a treat if you're a good girl." He pulls your chin up, forcing your big doe eyes to look into his deep brown ones.
And that's how you ended up here. On your knees, a leather collar around your dainty little neck, looking up at Constantine as he tugs you towards him. You can't believe you've been brought so low. You started this job because you thought you had the smarts and academic research to help aid in finding demons. Now you're looking up at your own personal demon.
"Crawl." Constantine commands, and pulls on your leash, forcing you to follow if you don't want to be choked.
You feel so humilated. Your cheeks heat to a level that you didn't think possible, and your lip quivers as you try to force down your sudden feelings of inadequacy. Constantine is not stopping until you really know your place.
"Sit." He finally says once he's dragged you to the bedroom, yanking on your chain when you don't do so fast enough.
You feel tears welling up, and soon enough, you know it's not just because of how embarrassed you feel about the situation. Instead, you feel yourself beginning to like being commanded as such. Deny it all you want as tears roll down your cheeks, but you like giving up all the control you fight for.
"Don't cry," Constantine laughs at you, his cruelty knowing no bounds. "You don't know how much more it turns me on to see you cry..."
"You're sick..." You whisper and look at the ground, but Constantine's yank of your leash stops you from looking away.
"Don't act like you're not enjoying this, Princess. I can see it in your eyes." You gaze at him and hate how easily your rising arousal is seen.
Constantine sits on the bed, watching as you sit on your knees before him. The hard wood floors are leaving your knees aching already, and somehow that pain is sending heat between your legs in waves.
"I want you to undress." Constantine commands you.
You want to resist. You know resisting is almost as bad as admitting defeat, however. And since you've already lost once, getting you into this situation, you feel like the test is on now.
"This is completely ridiculous..." You grumble, your hands folding over your chest.
"Is it?" Constantine laughs while he looks down at you, cheeks hot and wet. "You're the one who agreed to let me test your limits however I desired. You knew what you might be getting yourself into. I'm sure you secretly hoped it would come to this."
His voice chides you like a child, making you feel even lower, and the worst part was, he was right. Fantasies of Constantine doing whatever he pleased with you had floated through your head when you agreed. You never thought it would involve treating you like a bad puppy, however.
"You're so cruel to me..." The last part comes out in a whisper as your arms move, lifting your shirt to reveal what you have on underneath.
"Interesting how such a prude as yourself has such sexy lingerie underneath..." Constantine's eyes eat you up.
He watches with hunger as you kneel there, your lacy, black bra the only thing that covers your chest, which is heaving with the nervous and aroused breaths you take.
"I..." You try to think of something smart-assed to say, but end up short.
The truth was, you started wearing such lacy and tempting things beneath your clothes soon after you started working for him. You know why.
You know that you wanted to be ready, just in case...
And now here you are, all blush and embarrassment, tear stained cheeks and anger for being brought to this, laid almost bare in front of him. This man you have claimed to his own face to dislike. You feel such a fool as yourself probably deserves to be treated as such as he pull your chain nearer to him.
"Don't be so pathetic, puppy..." He gives another yank. "I think you'll find if you're a good doggy for me I might just give you a treat."
You glare at him as you sit so perfectly between his legs. You can see the huge bulge pressed up against his black suit pants, and you shift your thighs uncomfortably as you realize how badly you want to take him into your mouth. When your big eyes look up at him, lashes batting and confused, Constantine smirks.
"You don't have to hold yourself back, go ahead, take it out." And despite yourself, your hands are moving to the zipper and buttons of his pants, so slowly.
You let Constantine's cock take over your view, flopping out of his pants and easily into your hands. You're tired of fighting it. The ache deep in your stomach and between your thighs has gotten too persistent to ignore, and now here you are, leashed and stroking your boss's cock.
You know how much he's enjoying this, beyond even just the pleasure you're feeding him right now with your hand. He likes this feeling of domination over you, likes seeing you finally let go. You can't help but feel like this is where he thinks you belong. Beneath him and doing what you're told.
"That's it..." He sighs, leaning his head back ad your hand warms his cock for him. Even just the smell of it from how close you are, is filling your pretty little head and driving you mad.
You bite your lip and look up to him, he's loosening his tie and pulls your leash again, leading you even further to do what he wants. Your mouth waters as you think about putting something as big as his cock in it. You don't even know if you could fit it all, to be honest...
You hear him let out a small moan, obviously not wanting to do so. And as he does, you realize he needs this, this release, just as much as you do. You may be the one leashed and collared, but he's the one who's needing his cock touched so badly right now.
You bring the tip to your pouty mouth, and Constantine's warm brown eyes look down at you. You look into them sweetly and tease him with your tongue. He seems to be responding well, until goes on too long, and he reached a hand up and takes it behind your head.
"I can't wait that long, puppy." His voice is filled with need, and as he pressed on the back of your head, you can't help but open up, taking his cock into your mouth.
What really surprised you was how deep he pushes you, taking in way more than you thought possible and still having more left over. You choke for a moment, and it's clear Constantine likes hearing it. He continues to bob your head for you, his grip tightening and getting rougher just to hear your muffled cries. You feel the tears welling up again, this time involuntarily, caused by how rough he's fucking your throat and face. You grip his thighs, hands against his pants, and look up at him like the pretty princess you are, being all used up by such a wicked man as him.
"God, you've got such a cute face when you take my cock like that..." He groans out, head falling back once more as he loses himself in you for a moment.
You feel how tight he has you pulled by your leash, and you know you couldn't stop if you wanted to. He has you so perfectly trapped right now, and somehow being so restrained makes your pussy even wetter. You had no idea you needed to be tamed like this.
Suddenly, he pulls your head violently from his cock, spit trailing and eyes blinking out a few more tears. You look up at him with your big wet puppy dog eyes, trying to catch your breath and stop from choking on your own spit that's accumulated.
"Alright, princess," he starts with a heavy breath of his own, pulling your lead and your hair as he moves you up on to the bed with him. "I want to see what else you can do."
Constantine perfectly places you on top of him, his cock underneath your pussy, your thin piece of underwear being the only thing stopping him from slipping inside of you.
He's kept most of his clothes on, and somehow it makes you feel even more degraded knowing that he doesn't even feel the need to get that naked and open to you. It feels quick, it feels easy, it feels like fucking a stranger in a seedy little hotel room. You adore it...
You don't even have to be told, your mind is taken over by your own needs, and you begin to rub your soaking pussy against his solid cock. Constantine smiles and seems to be praising you for your good slut abilities.
"Such a good whore for me..." He whispers, grabbing your hips and rocking you into him in just the right way.
You're so much smaller on his frame as you needily grind yourself into him. He seems so much bigger, and the fact that he's so much older than you, so much more mature, adds to the fact that you feel humiliated and used by him. You're sure he feels the same, and enjoys seeing your young little body using herself up on his cock. You can tell by the way he's looking at you right now, like a hungry wolf waiting for the perfect moment to slaughter the poor little lamb.
"Move them to the side..." He says with a husky breath, not even trying to be kind or nice in asking.
"Y-yes..." You muster out, and reach down, moving your panties out of the way to expose your wet little slit.
Constantine easily lifts you up, and in one solid motion, not waiting to let you acclimatize to such a large cock. You cry out, loud and long, and he cuts it off with a quick pull of the collar, that choking feeling back and the pain and domination mixing with the pleasure of being so perfectly full. You let out a few choked noises as he grinds you in as deep as humanly possible.
Your mind reels from how much has been taken from you already tonight, and a small bit of fear settles in you as you wonder what you've gotten yourself into. How aggressive could he possibly be? You have no idea, but right now, despite being on top, you've never felt so inferior to Constantine, and with the way he's cruelly enjoying your pain, you shudder.
He only let's you remain still like this for a moment, obviously admiring his handy work on you. Soon enough, he's quickly lifted you again, and slammed himself back into you. You feel as if you may break into two, his cock splitting you so deeply. He continues this, hitting the deepest parts of you with such pleasurable pain that you pant out, breaths shaking and mixing with your cries. Your cheeks are stained with your mascara as more salty tears find their release and you begin to wonder where a fucking like this was all your life.
"I love seeing you so sloppy and your perfect little make up your work so hard on completely fucked like this." You hear Constantine say as he continues to use your body however he likes, fucking you harder and faster as he goes.
One of his hands finds your clit, rubbing circles that cause you to double over into him, your hands gripping his white button down and tie, face so close to his now.
"A good whore doesn't come out of the bedroom without a mess on her face." He whispers to you, so close now, he can see all the pain and desperation, all the need and pleasure on your face as your mind is completely fogged.
You keep letting him take you, slowly becoming more and more malleable in his hands, becoming a moaning little mess of a girl that is being fucked on his cock, making a mess of that as well as you get wetter and wetter, his hand bringing you closer with every stroke against your swollen and needy clit.
All you can do is close your eyes and lose yourself on him. You feel yourself edging closer and closer, and your lip trembles, your teeth finding it and biting to keep yourself from cumming to fast, but it's no use.
"F-fuck...I'm going to..." You can't stop the whisper that comes, and you begin to unwind.
You feel him stop suddenly, and then laugh.
"I'm not doing all the work, princess." He says, and leans back, putting both his hands behind his head, one still holding your leash of course.
"Wh-what?" You blink, breathing trying to regulate, looking up at him like a lost little puppy.
"That's right, I wanna see you work yourself on me. It's time you do some of the work if you want to cum, that is." His stupid, mean, cocky face tells you there's no getting out of this, but your lip pouts anyways.
"Hey! That's not fair, I was so close..." You see that it doesn't matter what you say, and his accompanying laugh doesn't make you feel much better anyways.
Your aching and throbbing cunt gets the better of the situation, and you put aside your stubborn nature for the prize of more friction.
You lean up, one hand out stretched as far as it goes, keeping your balance on Constantine's chest. Your hips rock, slowly, then picking up speed and losing awkwardness in favor of deeper thrusts of his cock into you. You begin to moan, finally finding the ultimate pleasure you were missing, free hand moving to your clit once more and giving the needed attention.
"Don't you dare cum without asking me, puppy." Constantine has sat up a bit, so he can pull you closer and say this while looking directly into your eyes. His intensity let's know their will be punishments if you don't do as he commands. You nod your head, willing to do anything right now.
You continue on, fucking yourself perfectly, and feeling your pussy tighten on it's own around him. He's harder than ever, his hips bucking into a bit despite saying you needed to get your own cum from his cock.
"I love seeing you work so hard for it." He whispers, his hand reaching out and wrapping around your neck, moving your head to keep eye contact despite wanting nothing more than to close your eyes and relish in the pleasure.
"Constantine, please, I need to cum..." You whisper out, eyes pleading and messy with running mascara.
"You'll have to do better than that. I need you to beg like the good dog you are." He responds with a wicked grin, eating up all of your desperation with glee.
"Oh god, please, I can't keep this up," you try to get out of it, but his grip on your throat tightens.
"I decide when you cum. Get that through your pretty little head, princess." He scoffs.
"Fine," you cry as he digs his cock deeper right where you need it.
"I'm begging you, please let me cum, I'll do anything, I'll say anything, just let me cum..." The words come out whiney, and breathy, and fast, need building beyond what you ever thought, your hand having to take breaks on your clit, knowing if you don't you'll fall over the edge.
"Anything?" Constantine replies, and you have a bad feeling about the look on his face.
"A-anything..." You whimper out, grinding relentlessly like the needy little bitch you are.
"Fine." he licks his teeth. "Bark like a dog for me, and I'll let you cum."
You look at him stunned for a moment, not wanting to do something so humiliating, cheeks burning hotter than they already are.
"You're kidding..." He stops fucking you and tightens his grip on your throat further, choking out the second word, he doesn't need to say that he's not.
You feel so close, and you need this so bad, but you have never felt so degraded...
Moments pass, and the loss of friction and the need for more builds.
You hold your breath, trying not even to breathe right now, trying not even to give him anything after he's taken so much from you tonight.
When you do breath, you feel utterly embarrassed about what comes out.
A whimper, then a bark. From the look on his face, you know it's not enough. You continue, your bark growing louder and louder until you're desperately crying it out. When you look back, he's laughing at you, and you feel like a school girl again, getting bullied. Somehow, that makes the need grow even more.
"Alright, alright," he says between laughs. "You can cum..."
And then, it's you that holds him down, your muscles tighten and Constantine let's you take him for the first time tonight however you want. You get the power right now, you've earned it after what he's put you through, and he freely let's you fuck him and use his cock however you need. And you do, and you feel yourself spilling, spilling, spilling...
You release on him, and he tells praises you as you do, your walls tightening and bringing him to his own release. You feel his cum, hot and sticky, filling you up more and more with every stroke.
"God, you're so pretty when you take what you want. What a pretty little puppy you are..." He breathes, keeping up with an endless amount of praise that you so desperately needed as you finish, coming down slowly from everything and finally resting, exhausted on his chest, cock still inside you, twitching.
You two say nothing for a long time, laying just like that, and to your surprise, sleep gets the better of you, and you find Constantine's arms wrapping around you to keep you from falling off his chest, and cock. You drift off to the most peaceful, dreamless sleep, you've had since starting this job. Maybe he was right. Maybe you did enjoy this more than you thought, but you'd never let him know that.
A Constantine x femVampire!Reader fic (ft John Wick/BRZRKR & don John)
You have a crush on the tall, dark, and grouchy mystery man who lives next door. Maybe it’s the cut of his suit, or the sad way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not watching by the mailboxes downstairs. You’re surprised when he actually accepts your invitation to dinner one night, but little do you know it paints a target on your back for the local vampire coven…
warnings: nsfw, blood, kidnapping, violence, angst, pining, brief mentions of domestic abuse (not reader), vigilante vengeance for said abuse (reader) plz heed individual chapter warnings if you need them!
prompt: In your old London loft, you find an old spoon, and a letter from 1897 claiming the chimney makes objects vanish. When you drop the spoon and a note down the chimney as a joke, they disappear without a sound. The next morning, a bewildered reply arrives from 1897, demanding an explanation.
prompt credits to: @writing-prompt-s
The afternoon had gone grey and miserable in that classic London way: fog thick enough to chew, rain pelting the cobblestones, and wind rattling every window frame loose. It was the kind of day meant for staying indoors with a pot of tea and pretending the world wasn’t on fire.
At least, that’s what John would have been doing if he were any normal bloke. And unfortunately for him he wasn’t.
Instead of enjoying anything warm or remotely comforting, he was knee-deep in old boxes, rummaging through years’ worth of forgotten shite, praying that something in there might be worth a few quid. Rent was due in three weeks. Normally he’d skip town, vanish into the smoke, and let the debt collectors tear their hair out. But that was hard to do when several of them were already sniffing around, and this dump was the only temporary lodging he’d managed on short notice.
So here he was, Constantine: occult expert, chain-smoker, part-time con man, full-time disaster, sorting through crap like an exhausted charity shop volunteer.
Tonight he was supposed to investigate a few “mysterious deaths” which could be anything from a demon to a poltergeist to some particularly pissed-off spirit, and the case of a certain elevator that people entered and simply… didn’t come back out of. Temporal rift, he thought. Probably. If the universe was in a good mood, the missing folks were alive in some alternate dimension. If the universe was feeling like its usual petty self, they’d gone back in time. And at that point? Not much John could do, aside from sealing the rift. If it was a dimension, he knew a few tricks to yank the unlucky bastards out.
By late afternoon he’d sorted most of the antique rubbish into piles: “somewhat profitable,” “garbage,” “garbage I can con someone into buying,” and “sentimental shite.” There was one last pile , “cursed shite” and a final pile he labeled “super cursed - deadly shite”, he stared at it with a long, tired sigh.
“Right,” he muttered to no one at all.
The entire floor of the living room was drowning in his clutter. Constantine grabbed a black trash bag and started shoving anything even remotely pawnable into it. The news droned in the background, rambling on about how the world was going to hell.
John barely heard it. His world had been there for years.
…
John sighed as he stood up surveying his work, everything was in garbage bags, at least the profitable shit was in garbage bags. The rest? Just tossed back onto any hard surface tables, chairs, counters, his desk, you named it, it was covered. John might have been a mess but he didn’t care for tripping over his own useless crap. He shoved a few trashbags out of the way a few rustling as if protesting the motion. “Yeah yeah fuck off”, he grumbled at the objects kicking the shite to the side. As he finally got his floor back he noticed something odd sticking out of the floor board.
Now he had two options, leave it the fuck alone, or investigate.
Right he thought to himself wouldn’t be John Bloody Constantine if i started leaving shite alone now, would I?
He crouched down low to get a better look the worn hardware floor creaked beneath his weight. As he got closer he noticed something shiny poking out of the floorboard, or more accurately he noticed the floor board just one not quite laying flat. John stood and trudged into the kitchen ignoring the cold of the hardwood or how the cold was bleeding into his socks. He wrenched open the middle drawer near his stove and grabbed the flathead screwdriver, it was likely left behind by who ever lived here before him. John didn’t really care he was just happy he didn’t have to go prying up a loose floorboard with his damn hands or a butter knife. He had one too many scars from such ventures he didn’t need another and he sure as hell wasn’t going to a hospital because he sliced himself bloody because of a floorboard. No way in hell was he explaining that to a nurse. He had better shite to do or at least thats what he liked to believe.
He went back to the mess in the living room and whatever weird little mystery that waited beneath hardwood. John sighed briefly hoping that the damage he was about to make to the floor wouldn’t cause him to lose his damned security deposit he was already short on cash. He really couldn’t afford to lose that as well.
Some days it really felt like he was hemorrhaging money more then the average drunk or addict. Even when he tried to do good hell even when he did do good it rarely if ever paid. Oftentimes john was stuck wondering if its even worth it continuing his line of work when it often left him penniless and usually friendless. And the few friends he did have have were often ghosts, had there foot halfway in a grave, or no longer wanted anything to do with him. Which he couldn’t really blame them for that he knew he was a bloody mess and oftentimes a difficult bastard with questionable morales its usually better that they bugger off that way no new deaths could linger against his conscience.
He crouched back in front of the floor board and carefully shoved the screwdriver into the small crack working it back and forth. The wood let out a long croaking sound as if protesting against the force he was using. He held the screw driver like a chisel, “right to hell with the security deposit then”, he murmured and grabbed the nearest heavy object which happened to be a random stone statue he got from a buddhist years ago as thanks. Yeah john accepted it but he would’ve preferred cash but whatever bit hard to demand cash payments for saving someone’s life. What was he supposed to do go “hey so your about to be swallowed whole by a demon that’ll be 100 quid would you like to pay in cash or check?” Yeah that’d go over great he thought bitterly, as he slammed the statue hard into the driver the wood immediately splintered slightly the floorboard immediately popped loose. He set the screwdriver and statue aside and moved the floorboard over and ofcourse it was a faulty board some sort of secret opening inside.
He reached inside and vaguely hoped nothing would try to bite and otherwise kill him. He really didn’t have time today and he was fairly certain if he did it right he could get his deposit back if he replaced the board just right. His hand brushed against old paper and what he guessed was likely dust bunnies. And then something metallic he scooped up both things and gently pulled them out.
He blinked at his now grime covered hand in vague surprise and confusion. Someone really went out of there bloody way to hide a old spoon and a letter. John stared at the contents looking betrayed and just done. He nearly lost his security deposit for this?!
Still he already committed to it he might as well bloody see what the hell it said he walked over to his small kitchen pulled out a cheap wooden chair that screeched every time he dragged the thing back to sit at the table. He sat down and turned on the desk lamp, yes he kept a desk lamp in his kitchen for his work there often wasn’t enough light. Upon further examination the letter was dated November 1897, the fuck john thought. How the hell did this bloody thing survive this long in the damned floorboards with a spoon which he guessed was from the same date? Again who the bloody hell hides a letter and a spoon in the damn floorboards?! Which if you asked john that was a question he never thought he’d have to ask muchless even think. To be honest it wasn’t something he ever thought would happen but here he is with a perfectly sealed letter from november 1897.
He grabbed a letter opener from the table and gently popped the seal on it.
It read as follows.
"Dear tennant or whomever stays or lives in this loft.
You may have noticed already that this loft is very very very weird. Odd occurrences keep happening here please take this letter as a warning, if you have anything of value or anything you value yourself keep it away from the fireplace and chimney. Things that fall down the chimney disappear without a trace once a chimney sweeper, kind fellow really fell down the damn chimeny and we never heard from him again. It caused our family much grief as people claimed we killed him we most certainly did not we even rushed down the stairs to help the fellow even searched the chimney see if the man got stuck inside as he did have a wide bottom. But alas he was gone truly no blood, just a yelp and poof.
As for the fireplace whenever you leave anything near it that too disappears and i have no doubt this letter will also be one of those things that mysteriously poof as well. I am going to do an experiment tonight with a spoon i will drop it down the chimney in hopes it finds wherever it is things go. This letter im leaving near the fireplace on our good sitting chair perhaps it will also land in the same place as my favorite silver teaspoon. I did so have it since i was a child if you do find it perhaps it is you that is stealing things and people. Either way do take care and if possible please return the chimney sweeper with the round bottom, and my spoon thank you."
....
John read the damned letter once then twice he blinked slowly, a laugh escaped him this had to be a fucking prank from some bloody teenager with an aptitude for creative writing. But still johns curiosity was peaked. And honestly it made him want to learn about whatever family lived here in 1897 and what the fuck was going on.
He couldn’t help it he found himself walking over to the old fireplace that the landlord said he hasn’t used in years mainly because the cost for upkeep and repairing it was too much. He pretty much told john that if he’s cold he’ll install some extra space heaters just dont touch the fireplace. Now john wondered if the landlord somehow knew? Or if something weird was really happening with the fireplace and chimney.
a/n: i'd just like some feedback on this so far this fic will probably be 1 chapter maybe 2 at most give me thoughts and feedback but be kind and respectful if you dont like this fic thats fine just scroll on
I'm prayin' at your altar if you know what I mean.
One moonlit evening, Constantine found himself in the centre of a web of dark magic. A malevolent force, whose origins were hidden in the whispers of the underworld, had unleashed a demonic presence on the unsuspecting city. The streets echoed with the eerie laughter of the creatures that lurked in the shadows.
Amidst the chaos, Constantine discovered an ancient altar, its malevolence penetrating the very foundations of the city. The air crackled with malevolent energy as he confronted the demonic force that sought to devour the soul of the metropolis.
"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica…" Constantine murmured, a defiant challenge to the malevolent entity that lurked in the supernatural realms.
As he recited ancient incantations and wielded a weapon forged from celestial steel, Constantine sensed a mysterious presence — an ethereal force drawn to the fervour of his quest. Unseen eyes watched him from the shadows, mesmerised by the determination and courage emanating from the demon hunter.
With each incantation, Constantine's surroundings seemed to quake with an otherworldly energy. The demonic laughter died away and was replaced by an eerie silence, as if the air held its breath in anticipation of the impending clash between light and shadow.
At the heart of the spiritual battlefield, Constantine's gaze caught sight of a figure cloaked in shadow — a ghostly presence lingering at the edge of the supernatural fray. The being, drawn by the resonance of the demon hunter's fervent prayers, watched him with an intensity that reflected a strange fascination.
"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica…" Constantine repeated, the words a rhythmic chant that reverberated through the metaphysical realms.
As the incantations intensified, the shadows parted, revealing the ghostly entity that had been drawn to Constantine's request. A subtle change occurred — a dance of cosmic energies that blurred the line between hunter and hunted.
Constantine, his senses attuned to the supernatural currents, met the enigmatic gaze of the spectral being. The air quivered with unspoken understanding — a connection that transcended the dichotomy of good and evil. In that suspended moment, the demon hunter and the spectral being found themselves connected by a cosmic thread woven from the essence of the mystical battlefield.
The demon, sensing the shift in the balance of power, backed away from the combined force opposing it. The city, once caught in the clutches of evil, heaved a sigh of relief as the supernatural storm subsided. Constantine took one last look at the ghostly creature with a weary but victorious expression on his face.
"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica…" he uttered once more, this time directed at the enigmatic presence that hovered in the aftermath of the battle. “And tell boss Constantine said ‘hi’, you fuck” Constantine added, showing a middle finger to the dark forces who lurked around him.
The city, freed from the clutches of demonic influence, attained a new serenity. Constantine, the demon hunter, and the spectral being, an enigma woven into the fabric of the supernatural, shared a moment of unity — a testament to the complexity of the spiritual battlefield and the unspoken connections that transcend the realms of light and shadow.
After the supernatural storm, as the city heaved a sigh of relief, Constantine and the spectral being stood face to face. The air crackled with lingering energy and their eyes met in a silent exchange of gratitude and appreciation. Without words, a magnetic pull drew them closer together until their lips met in a passionate kiss.
“You saved the altar” the being murmured against his lips, placing her hands on his chest.
“It was bombed once… and I don’t have any heavy arms on me.”
“That’s good, Constantine” she touched his lips gently, tracing them with her fingers before kissing him again.
“I’m prayin’ at your altar…” he breathed, moving his lips to the being’s neck, gently squeezing her hips and pushing her closer to the altar, “if you know what I mean.”
“Oh, I sure know what you mean, John Constantine.”
The boundaries between the hunter and the mystical being blurred, and in this unspoken union the city witnessed a union that overcame the dichotomy of good and evil. The night, once shrouded in malice, gave way to the dawn of a city reborn, where prayers and mysteries lingered in the air like the echo of an ancient hymn, and the kiss between Constantine and the spectral being came to symbolise a love that transcended the boundaries of the constant fight between good and evil and the balance he kept willing to restore.
John Constantine x Reader (A/n- once again breaking my own rules and writing this for whoever I felt like writing for)
Masterlist 12 Days of Christmas Writing Event Masterlist
Prompt 2- “I love Christmas!”
“I can tell.”
Warnings- none
There had been women before; trysts with halfbreeds, a few inconsequential flings with women whose faces would fade with time, but John had never anything quite like the something he had with her. He hadn’t been looking for anything, for as long as John knew himself, he’d never been looking for anything like that. That being the wondrous, beautiful thing he’d found with her. Slow kisses on the sofa while a movie played, lazy mornings in bed and late night, hand in hand, walks through the city. None of it had ever really been his thing, John had never been the relationship type.
But she was different. With her everything was different.
She was kind and sweet and made him smile- not laugh yet, but they were working on it. Y/n. He didn’t think he’d ever know what falling in love felt like, up until a few months ago, John didn’t think he even wanted to, but Y/n had come into his life by accident and had changed everything. She gave him something to look forward to; she smiled a lot and it was contagious, she’d lean her head on his shoulder and remind John that he wasn’t alone in the world. She made him happy, and with everything in him, John often hoped that he did the same for her.
That evening, by the time he’d gotten to her place, pizza and a six pack in hand, it was past dusk and he was wholly expecting to have one of those lazy evenings that she’d acquainted him with. Y/n wasn't particularly fond of night life or any wild escapes that L.A offered, a trait he was grateful for, though that hadn’t meant that John had just sunken into her lifestyle without issue. Instead, it had been a slow process; he had been so used to working all the time, chasing demons fighting evil whenever, and wherever, it cropped up that when, for the very first time, Y/n had suggested they go catch a movie, he’d been perfectly out of his element. He was getting there though.
They’d agreed on a Christmas movie that night, which seemed perfect, at least to her, for getting into the holiday spirit. John himself had never been a fan of Christmas; it was too much work, heavily commercialized and he didn’t really have any family left. But that year he was supposed to spend it with Y/n, which meant that at the very least, he’d tolerate the holiday.
After he'd knocked, it had taken a while for her response, though, when he did get one, it was an absent, somewhat distant, "Its open! Come in!" After maneuvering the pizza box into the arm of the hand that was holding the beer, John took the cool brass knob in his hand and gave it a turn.
As he stepped into her loft, he scolded lightly, "You know, you shouldn't just people in. It could be….." Turning after he'd shut the door, his worlds trailed off as he glimpsed the clutter that dominated the usually open, airy space. Boxes, storage bins and huge bags were littered haphazardly on the worn, hardwood floor, and there were so many of them that if there weren't tinsel, ornaments and string lights spilling out of them, or the word "Christmas" scrawled across others, John might have thought she was moving.
"Hey you," her bubbly tone erupted from midway through her living area as Y/n waded through the clutter. Upon reaching him, she relieved him of the box just as she leaned up on her toes while he bent to reach her lips in a brief, greeting peck. "I'm gonna clear all this stuff up in a bit so we can watch the movie," she reassured after noticing his confusion.
They broke and while Y/n moved toward the kitchen counter, John took a closer look around the space. There was a huge tree that was already half decorated, with a step ladder nearby, a small box of glass ornaments along with a wreath was laid out on the coffee table and there was a mass of Christmas-themed throw pillows, a few stuffed reindeer, snowmen and a little Santa Claus all packed messily in one corner of the long sofa. “What is……all this stuff,” without knowing of another way to address it, he used her words, continuing his befuddled examination.
“They’re decorations,” she explained as if it should have been obvious.
John knitted his brows, looking around at everything one more time, “All of them?”
“Yeah,” Y/n perked up just as she set the pizza down on the tiled counter, “I love Christmas!”
John huffed, though, he couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. She was adorable when she got excited. “I can tell,” he returned smoothly, moving to approach her in the kitchen, his hands falling to her hips after he’d set the six pack down, “You really love Christmas,” John teased.
“Mhm,” Y/n hummed with soft laughter, “It’s not to late to back out,” she taunted, arms looming around his neck, toying with the ends of his short, dark hair.
Smirking, John bent to press a quick peck to her lips, “Are you trying to get rid of me woman?”
Giggling, Y/n stood on her toes, swiftly stealing a kiss, “Never.”
“Good,” their lips locked for longer that time, and when they parted, still standing toe to tip-toes, John added softly, “Cause you’re stuck with me.”
Grinning brightly, Y/n tightened her embrace, and John did the same, forcing them closer together, “Yeah? Well you’re stuck with me. And all of my decorations.”
For the first time in the entirety of their relationship, and by extension, the first time in a long time, John chuckled, and again, it was all because of her, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
A/N: Thanks to the Flarrowverse Shipyward, I have found a new rarepair. So, this is a tale about Larry Trainor from Doom Patrol and John Constantine. And how they met each other through an unconventional set-up. This is also a gift to KEO for making me ship them.^^
Word Count: 722
TW: None, except Larry being insecure I guess
***
Nightfall proved to be a time, where caution proved to be necessary. Larry walked down, approaching a bench to sit down. He occupied a corner, lifting his head up.
The sky looked slightly dark with the moon as it's only source of light.
He shuddered at cold air surrounding him. The only reason he went out to this desolated park had been because of Rita's suggestion. She had told him she set him up to meet someone, who she met recently. A streetlamp was his only company for now. He had to wait for that person, who might eventually show up by midnight.
A clandestine meeting at midnight? Yeah, right. Why would Rita think this would be a good idea, again?
The last time he did anything like this was with John. And it went away quickly as it happened. Before he could have an opportunity to react, of course.
"Evening over there," a smooth and amused voice said near him. "Quite a get-up you got there, you enigmatic bloke."
He detected a British accent in that voice. Okay, so Rita had met a British guy, deciding he should meet him?
When Larry tilted his head low, he saw a white man with rumpled dark blonde hair and a face covered with facial hair to match. In a light brown trench-coat with a red tie and white shirt beneath it. Carrying an air of confidence, which he used to have.
"Hi," Larry replied, waving awkwardly at him. "I apologize if. . . if this wasn't what you were expecting."
"No, don't be." The man sauntered towards the bench, taking a seat on the other spot. "Your friend did tell me what to expect but I didn't imagine this."
"Oh. I didn't know that."
Well, she did mention the guy would be blonde. Witty in a rogue manner as well. He could see that along with pain concealed underneath it. Or maybe he might be projecting his worries onto a stranger but he could tell.
The man threw an arm over the bench, his hand a few inches away from touching Larry on the shoulder. He stayed where he was, determined to not get any closer. It never went well for anybody.
"If you'd like to get drunk out of your misery," the man started. "Perhaps, I can cast a spell to help you out with that. A potion might do a trick or two too."
"What?" Larry asked, his heart rate spiking higher. "Is that what this is all about?"
"Of course, love." The man cackled.
His throat closed at the endearment, which the man blurted out so casually. Back then, even. . . he dislodged the memory from his head.
"Please. Don't call me that."
The guy tossed his hands up slightly.
"Alright, if you wish."
At least, the guy couldn't see his face, Larry thought with gratitude. With his disfigurement and most of the radiation covered, he didn't have to anything to worry about. Except for one thing, of course. His sheer embarrassment and lack of experience in these types of situations.
Larry cleared his throat.
"Who are you exactly?"
The man pulled a cigar out from a pocket.
"Some refer to me as a dabbler of the dark arts, a person who walks with shadows as his only companion. Exorcist, demonologist, among other bloody terms associated with it. Most people who knew me? Call me John Constantine if you will."
John. A tidal wave almost smacked him square at his chest at that little discovery. He had heard about a warlock roaming around the streets of Missouri and Liverpool, mainly. But he didn't know his name.
Forcing himself to not lose it, he shifted in his seat.
"And I'm Larry Trainor," he said, breaking the silence. "I have a spirit of some sort that lives in me. That's all there is to me really."
The negative spirit stayed dormant within him for a few hours now, so it was strange he didn't receive any message from it.
Constantine raised his brows. "Really? Is it all there is to you? Or is there something else you prefer to not share? I get it, things get rough."
"Something else," Larry admitted with conviction. "I don't want to talk about it."
And not so soon.
"No problem for me?" Constantine's face lit up with a grin. "Alright then. . . where shall we start?"
