Mar 2
I have a theory
seen from Russia
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seen from United States
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seen from Mali
seen from Russia
seen from China
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seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from T1
seen from United Kingdom
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seen from United Kingdom
seen from China
I have a theory
Do You Believe In Magic
Open starter ( testing out a new muse )
Yonah sighed sitting in front of her magic mirror, watching the minutes go by before she had her next appointment. Although she owned a night club, she still had clients for more occult reasons rather than regular business.
" I assume you came to visit the Rose Witch?"
Bedroom Hymns: AU!Constantine x Reader
Set: Southern Plantation, 1861, Civil War begins.
Warnings: Graphic history, supernatural entities/ procedures, Weapons, violence, smut.
Word count: 1,928
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The gentle breeze caressed your face, a mixture of saltwater and honeysuckle filled your senses; your hands folded in content.
The life of a widow sure had its downsides, but yet, there remained some glimmer of reclaimed peace. No man to tend to every day, no demands of marital hierarchy; no forced sexual agendas; no more rough touched against your flesh as he deemed you ‘disobedient’.
Now we all know what you’re thinking — did she kill the man she was so madly, wildly in love with? Or so it seemed. No, she didn’t do it; a rather gothic man, with no real backstory may have had a devilish hand into the demise of her dear, sweet husband — well, deceased husband.
———————————————————
“Mama?” Jameson looked up at her as she sat there, rocking calmly as the breezes passed, lapping at her solemn face.
He looked like his father, a spitting image; blonde hair that curled around his face; emerald eyes shone bright with innocence.
“Yes, my love?” You asked glancing downward, examining his face for any slighted detail of your blood; your hereditary blood line, it came to no avail.
“Can we go visit the Preacher man?” He asked quietly, a hint of fright on his tongue. He sat there on his feet, bouncing as a horse in a stable. You thought for a second eventually nodding. His eyes glimmered with excitement as he raced to tell Mr. Hendricks to pull the carriage around so ’He and his mother could go see the Preacher man’.
Soon the three were off onto the dirt road destination; horses galloping in a militant stride; your son couldn’t bother to sit still for too long as he was too excited to see the man. Your thoughts came to rest on the man, how his eyes were like a fire in the sunlight; he always looked so frail, sickly but it was just how pale he must get from staying inside during the day; he would always visit the local town folk at night to the citizens dismay.
He had been there for a couple months, he had just shown up one night, ragged. His face wore an exhausted expression, sweat formed on his body; shirt ripped as if a wild beast had gotten ahold of him.
You were the only one to open the door for him, cleaning his wounds and nursing him so kindly back to health.
———————————————————
As the carriage came to a halt, Jameson quickly jumped down and ran towards the plantation porch; curls bouncing feverishly as he scampered to the door; his tiny knuckles quickly assuaging the door with knocks. You were helped down by Hendricks, you nodded with a soft smile.
“We will be a couple hours, Mr. William. If you need anything I’m sure I’ll be able to persuade Mr. Constantine to let you inside. He adores you as I do.” With a final smile you made your way towards the grandiose home, white pillars wrapped the porch in a strong hold; it was a beautiful home, really, but it unsettled you in a — peculiar fashion.
“Ms. Y/L/N, it’s so nice of you and good ole Jameson to drop by. To be quite frank, I was getting a bit restless being here alone.” Constantine smiled, his fingers messing your sons hair into a mess as he spoke; but soon, his hand took yours, pulling your hand to his lips with a formal greeting. His eyes never dared to leave yours; a familiar heat rose to your cheeks.
“Well to be honest, Mr. Constantine...”
“Johnathan, please, no need for such formalities anymore. You are a welcomed guest in my home not some, outsider.” He chuckled handing you a glass of wine.
You nodded in reply.
“Johnathan, to be frank myself, it is always a pleasure to stop by, but...” You stopped, a finger pointed to halt him from saying a word. “It was not my doing. My lovely son wanted to see his favorite Preacher.” You chuckled softly, an adoring gaze towards your son, then absentmindedly towards the handsome man that stood before you.
“I see, pray tell, why does he call me such a — dignified name?” Johnathan said before taking a sip of what could only be whiskey. His large hand swallowing the glass, ice clanking in the vessel with every gentle move the man made; your attention brought back to the question.
“He is rather convinced you had delivered us from evil. Satan himself, if you will.” You raises an eyebrow, insinuating what only the two of you understood; his eyes matched yours with an glint of satisfaction, his eyes, however, seemed much darker — much malicious than you remembered.
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3 am, the faint smell of smoke raised your senses; cigarettes, tobacco, Him. Your body shivered slightly into a fevered sweat. You knew he was there, you just couldn’t see him; your fingers glided across the mat of hair that fell onto your face, sticky from the heat of the night.
Jameson was fast asleep in his room, you knew that much as your thoughts formed cautiously. He must not see his mother in such a light.
You rose from your bed, taking the lantern with you to the porch where you quickly found Johnathan sitting, rather patiently, for you. His index and middle finger firmly wrapped around a freshly rolled cigarette. His eyes slowly rising to meet yours; his pupils seemed to have engulfed his orbit; his eyes reminded you of the night, darkness and unholiness.
“I need you.. to know.. I’m being shipped off in the coming days. They’ve chosen this poor, wretched vessel to go fight some pathetic mortal war.” He hissed, his tongue like a viper in the pits of hell; you weren’t afraid, never; you were intoxicated by the predator that laid beneath the facade of a man. Your hands quickly placed around the sides of his throat; protectively, maybe even greedily. His lips curled into a smirk as his eyes focused onto your face.
“You do not wish me to go, my pet.” He whispered towards you, his fingers firmly placed on your chin, forcing you to look at him — even though that clearly wasn’t necessary.
He had read your mind in one sweep, your thoughts became trampled into confusion.
“I never wish you to go — but if you must leave me and the boy here to fight then I have no choice but to suffice until you are back to us.” You spoke as you gazed into his eyes, the smirk still prevalent on his mug.
“Tell me, my dear, what is it that you wish I’d do to you, right here — right now?” His words were met with a devilish, teeth exposing grin. The only kind you were warned about in church, the kind that would’ve had every other woman fleeing in the night. But somehow, you accepted it.
“I want you, Johnathan. Please take me.” You whimpered, finding yourself always powerless when he was in his true form.
His left hand quickly wrapped around your throat, effortlessly lifting you upward and against the wall of the outside porch; your gasping only pleased him. His touch burned you with an unexplainable fire. You gnashed and kicked at him in the game only the two of you knew.
“I am going to ruin you, my sweet pet... and you’re going to take every last bit of my seed; understand?” He gritted through his teeth, his words rang through your closed off ears as you were about to succumb to darkness. His pressure released allowing you to answer his command.
“Yes, my God.” You panted, air flooding your lungs.
Soon Johnathan had you splayed out, bent over the railing of the porch; your cunt exposed for only him. Your night gown simply ripped off your body. You found his masculine hands caressing every curve, every fold of your body.
“Johnathan...” you pleaded.
With a final plea of his name, he bent down to his knees; almost as if he were sending a prayer into the heavens but you knew that was the farthest case.
His tongue slipped between your drenched folds, expertly digging into your cunt — lapping at what you had to offer him. His growls sent vibrations through you; his arms wrapped around your waist pulling you down harshly against his mouth, making sure you were to go absolutely nowhere.
“Oh, fuck.” You gripped the railing with all your might; his tongue curling to hit every spot. Curses fell from your lips, as you started to bounce on his skilled tongue, fucking yourself against him.
Soon his assault halted, sounds of his belt hitting the wooden floor beneath you.
“You want my cock, don’t you, pet?” He cooed sadistically in your ear; his question met with a moan.
“Yes Sir.”
“As you wish.” He whispered, you could hear the smirk in his tone.
His cock thrusted into your cunt with a force, his thrusts not giving you time to accommodate such sex. He hissed as his cock was enveloped in wetness, his arms steadily wrapped around your waist; fucking you like a madman.
The hot air from summer seems to intensify, your moans seemed to not be so alone anymore — but it was different, it was far more disturbing sounds that filled your ears. Skin against skin, a slap to the ass, but the unholy moans and grunts you heard were as those only described in the Book as Hell. Your ears rang, terrifying screams filled the air around you; with every thrust from Johnathan, you felt as if you were going to black out.
His nails digging into your flesh, drawing blood made you scream. It burned with pleasure, but just that, it burned.
His noises were animalistic in nature, groans and grunts of a deprived man.
“You do not release until I tell you, intellexerunt?” He hissed sinfully as he pounded into your cunt with a feverish pace. Your body bouncing obscenely with every motion.
“Yes, my Lord.” You squirmed in his hold, feeling as if you were going to split in half.
The wind blew with a hurricane force, your body started to betray you as you felt the urge to cum.
“Beg.” He growled.
“P-please!” You screamed out.
“Please what!? Say it!” His pace surprisingly grew stronger, your body screamed out, you felt as if you were going to burst into flames.
“Please! Please let me cum!” You cried out, tears slipping down your flushed cheeks. A sadistic laugh erupted from his lips as he continued to fuck you into submission.
“Release, my Pet. Scream my name, you filthy mortal whore.” He growled.
Your body gave into the devouring hunger, feeding you with orgasm. Your body shook violently as your ears filled with unholy screams of orgy torment, the wind violently cascading around the two of you as you came.
“Constantine! Please, my God!” You screamed out.
His grunts erupted into a frenzy as he came inside you with such a force, your legs buckled under you; his embrace catching you as you fell to the ground.
“My pet, you were so good.” His words soothed you. His body towering over you.
You found his eyes, brown, warm.
“Johnathan...” You purred softly, a hand lovingly caressing against his cheek.
“You will not worry of me getting killed, I promise. I will never die.” His smiled, his lips finding yours with an understood promise.
The devil cannot be killed, yet, somehow, he can learn to love.
To Be Continued!
A/N: ‘intellexerunt’ is Latin for ‘understood’!
Tags: @fanficsrusz @fan-wicktion @johnfuckingwick @stardustbabyxo @meetmeinthematinee @homesoutofhuman and to anyone else I hope this finds you! X
ArchAngel : Book 1
Constantine slammed his Bible onto the mirror, the beast trapped inside screaming savagely before bursting into embers back to where it came from — Hell.
John stood above the body of a young man, his face contorted into a peaceful manner. He was delivered from evil.
——
After a hard days work, John lit another cigarette, the seventh one he had smoked that day. He heard the street lights buzzing above his head, a church stood in front of him; Catholicism belief.
He was drawn inside by a sensation of wonder and torment. His eyes fixated on the picture that hung above the cross, God and His seven angels, guardians of the world and thereafter.
Soon, a bright light surrounded him; his eyes attempted to adjust to it, he couldn’t.
He was so overwhelmed he hit the ground, pain shooting through his body before darkness enveloped his vision.
——
“Constantine?” The voice cooed, guiding him back to consciousness.
Female, melodic.
“Wake up, mortal.” She huffed, a light foot pushing his side, rolling him over with ease.
His eyes opened, gathering himself.
He groaned, pushing himself up onto his elbows, staring at the ethereal figure before him.
The form of a beautiful young woman stood in front of him, wearing all black; black jeans, black tank top, and black boots; all put together by large black wings.
“Mm..” he started, his mind still reeling from the state he had been in prior.
“Say it, Constantine.” You purred.
“Michael.”
“In the flesh, dear Mortal.”
——-
Archangel Michael is one of the seven angels at God’s right hand. The protector, the rapture and the creator all hail from Michael. An entity who was never born nor created; now the being stood before John Constantine in the form of a beautiful figure, a woman of temptations.
Michael had not fallen from grace; He came to protect and guide.
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Guess who’s also gonna write a Constantine fic??? Bc I don’t know how to stop lmao
From the Constantine series