I love fics with Danny and Constantine! From Danny being a gremlin and Constantine being terrified of the eldritch abomination the League just summoned, or being so done with the chaos Danny brings, or Danny owning Constantine's soul, it all brings me so much joy!
Here are some of the fics I've read. If you've got any recommendations put them in the comments!
Best Foot Forward
Magicae ad Mortem
Damning Actions
Like A Lamb
the royal line
An Unlikely Deal
I Just Wanna Talk
John Constantine Stop Selling Your Soul for Five Minutes Challenge
John Constantine‘s Infinite Trouble With The Infinite Realms
The Peacock Au
The Soul Trade(ing Card Game)
Be Not Afraid! (Or whatever)
Restless Summons
Uncle John
It's Hard to Make Friends When You're Half in the Grave
Beach Day Demons
Warnings: smutty smut, explicit language, use of n-word, drug use (marijuana), high sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, creampie
Word count: 3.2k
Part one | Part two
Kinktober 2025 Masterlist
The city was quiet below—just a scatter of headlights threading through the streets like fireflies.
You and Cam had been bickering for the last twenty minutes over which horror movie to put on, both of you too lazy to move from your spots on the couch.
“I ain’t watchin’ anything with clowns,” he said, the lighter clicking as he sparked the blunt.
“Fine. But you can’t pick another one with subtitles,” you countered.
“You said you wanted culture.”
“Not them lame ass jump-scares in French.”
He laughed, passed you the blunt, and slouched deeper into the cushions. The television washed the room in flickering blue light; outside, rain whispered against the windows.
You took a slow pull and exhaled toward the ceiling. “You realize this is the first night we’ve both been off work in, like, forever?”
“Yeah,” he said lazily, eyes drooping now. “Feels weird not hearin’ weights clankin’ in the background.”
“You miss the gym already?”
“Nah,” he said, grinning. “Just the view.”
You rolled your eyes, trying not to smile, and handed the blunt back. He brushed your fingers as he took it, the contact small but sparking all the same.
The movie finally started, Deep Blue Sea. Ten minutes in, you’d both gone quiet, sharing the smoke and the kind of silence that only happens when everything feels easy.
Cam glanced at you, eyes caught by the flicker of light across your face. “You ever notice scary movies hit different when you high?”
“Everything hits different when you high,” you replied, throwing your legs over his lap and sinking further into the couch.
“You ain’t lying’, baby.” He chuckled under his breath, leaned his head back, and exhaled a thin ribbon of smoke. It curled in the air between you, blurring the distance and softening the edges of the room.
The movie’s score intensified as the first shark attack hit, but neither of you glanced at the screen. His gaze flicked between your brown eyes and the cinnamon hue of your skin under the TV light. His fond smile grew with each passing second.
“What?” you asked.
“Nothin’. Just like seein’ you all cozy in my hoodie and shit.”
“I hope you know you ain’t getting this one back.”
“Been knew,” he muttered, voice lower and raspy. “You borrow everything that smells like me. Imma start chargin’ yo ass.”
You snorted, shaking your head. “Whatever, Cam.”
Your feet sprawled across his lap, your recently painted toenails a crisp lavender that popped against his dark grey sweatpants. Every so often, his thumb drifted over the small peanut-butter tattoo on your ankle, the gesture half-absent, half-affectionate.
“Just making sure it’s still real,” he murmured. “Proof my girl is actually obsessed with me.”
"Nigga, please." You rolled your eyes. "Let's not forget, I got mine five years ago, and you got yours three months ago.”
"Oh, so that make me the obsessed one, huh?" He laughed, his green eyes shining in the light of the TV. "Even though you can't fall asleep if a nigga ain't right next to you."
Oop. Not him trying to clock your tea.
"Semantics," you said, your grin hiding behind the sleeve of his hoodie. "Either way, we're a sandwich now."
He snorted smoke out of his nose and started to cough slightly. "You're gonna kill me one of these days." He grabbed your ankle as he leaned forward a little.
On screen, Samuel L. Jackson was in the middle of his famous speech. You both mouthed the lines to each other, giggling like goofballs.
“How many times we seen this?” he asked.
“Enough to know exactly when he gets eaten.”
“Still jumps me every time.”
“You’re supposed to be the brave one, Mr. Football.”
“Brave on the field,” he said, tapping ash into the tray. “Not when twenty-foot sharks are involved.”
You rolled your eyes, stretching your legs and cracking a few toes. “You’d fight a linebacker but not a fish?”
“Shiddd. Linebackers ain’t got teeth like that, baby.”
The word slipped out easily—baby—and hung there for a beat. You didn’t comment, just sighed happily and stole the blunt when he offered it. “You gettin’ sentimental on me?”
“Maybe a little. Three months in and you just—you still look at me like you’re waiting on the punchline.”
“That’s because I’m still not sure how I ended up dating the man who once set off the fire alarm trying to cook bacon when we were 13.”
“That bacon was fine until you distracted me.”
“So it’s my fault the bacon was burnt and undercooked?”
“Absolutely.”
You chuckled, handing the blunt back to him. He took a slow drag, keeping his eyes on you instead of the movie. The smoke hovered between you for a moment before settling down enough to see that crooked-tie grin you noticed so frequently.
“What now?” you muttered, raising a curious eyebrow.
“I was just thinkin’ how wild this is,” he admitted, gesturing. "We literally went from chasing cats in the neighborhood to this."
"This being…?"
“Feet in my lap, wearing my hoodie, and my couch covered in your hair ties.”
“Sounds like you complainin.’”
“Nah,” he said softly, petting your ankle with his thumb again. “I’m appreciatin'.’”
You didn’t respond right away; the heat in your chest did that for you.
Outside your high-rise, the thunder rumbled softly, and inside, more of those sharks kept circling. The couch sank farther as he moved closer, and the space between laughter and drowning thinned, making it easier to just fall through.
You feigned interest in the movie as his fingers grazed your thigh, inching higher and higher every second. You only spoke when his thumb found your clit through your boyshorts. “Cameron—“
“—Shh,” he interrupted as he leaned closer to pepper kisses down your neck, “Focus on the sharks, Y/N.”
“You supposed to be focusin’ on the scary movie.” You retorted, gasping softly as another finger joined his thumb, creating more pressure, causing you to let out a needy moan. The blunt had gone out in your hand, and you set it aside.
“I’m focusin’ on something way scarier, baby,” he replied, cheekily. “This dangerous ass pussy.”
You tilted your head back against the sofa, eyes downturned, lips parted just enough for him to notice your breath change.
He pulled your bottoms down and pushed your panties to the side, groaning slightly at the sight of your glistening pussy.
“How are you already this wet?”
“My body knows who it belongs to.”
His jaw locked, his piercing gaze never falling from yours. “Y/N…”
“Cameron.”
“Y/N.”
“Cameron.”
Cameron spread your lips with his index and middle fingers, keeping his eyes on you as his fingers touched your clit with slow circles and light pressure.
Just enough to drive you mad but not enough to tip you over yet. Your hips shifted, and your thighs parted wider on instinct.
You wanted more. And he knew it. Still, he decided to take his sweet, sinful time.
He grinned. “Something you want to say, baby?”
“Don’t blow my high, nigga, with all this teasing.”
He snickered quietly, “You tellin’ me or askin’ me?”
“Please, make me cum.”
“Good girl.”
He pushed two fingers inside you, stretching your walls. His other hand rested on your lower belly, one finger rubbing your clit hard and fast.
Your skin felt like it was on fire. You knew you weren’t going to last because it never took you long to come whenever you were high. Everything felt intensified.
He caught your lips in a passionate kiss as he curled his fingers inside you, pushing them deeper and deeper, fucking you faster and faster.
“This what you wanted?”
“Yes,” you inhaled sharply, eyes fluttering closed as you gripped his bicep, squeezing tightly as you felt your climax nearing.
“Look at me,” he commanded.
As soon as your brown eyes locked onto his green ones, he whispered. “Cum.”
You obeyed immediately, cumming on his fingers. Your orgasm flowed through you, sending waves of pleasure all the way down to your toes.
He slowed his fingers as he kissed your cheek while muttering praises. “I’ll never get over how pretty you look when you’re cumming.”
He took his fingers out and brought them to his lips, licking his fingers clean.
Once you caught your breath, you leaned forward and said, “Your turn now.”
You slid to the floor and sat back on your knees once you were in front of his lap.
You pulled his sweats and boxers down just enough to free him, grinning because he was already half hard. Your mouth watered with hunger the minute his dick sprang free, and not just because you had the munchies. You licked the palm of your hand before gently massaging his length. It grew to fullness in your hand within a matter of seconds.
He sank his teeth into his bottom lip as his hand came down and cupped the side of your face. You nuzzled your cheek into his palm and kissed it twice.
You licked your lips, sighing softly as his hard length stared back at you, daring you to put it in your mouth.
You leaned forward and took him into your mouth, slow and deliberate, letting your tongue trace every vein like you were etching it into your memory. His hips jerked as his head thudded back against the couch.
“Fuuuck...” The sound tore from him, guttural and desperate. His hand slid into your hair, not pulling, just anchoring, and his grip on your plaits wavered. “You and this fuckin’ mouth.”
You hummed around him, hollowing your cheeks, watching the way his eyes squeezed shut and his chest puffed out. Every time he moaned your name, you took him deeper, pushing him closer to the edge.
“Just like that, baby.” Cameron encouraged, letting out a strained moan as you started bobbing your head up and down, tongue curling around his tip, setting a particular toe-curling pace that he always seemed to melt for.
You glanced up at him again through your eyelashes. His half-lidded eyes stared at you with so much heat it was enough to make you feel lightheaded. The way he got so comfortable and vulnerable with you in this position never failed to make you feral. The sight alone had you dripping for him.
He sighed out your name, extending his other leg while cradling the back of your head. You swirled your tongue around, coaxing another deep groan out of him as you flattened your tongue down the underside of his tip. He lifted his hips, thrusting up into your mouth while he held your head in place.
You let out a hum as he fucked up into your mouth, one hand braced on his knee while the other teased his balls with featherlight squeezes. Tears prickled in your eyes as you hollowed your cheeks and sucked him all the way down as much as you could, gagging briefly as the tip of his dick slipped down the back of your throat.
You were soaked just from the sound of it, wetness dripping down your thighs, your whole body buzzing like a hive of pissed-off bees.
Your pace quickened, your hand working in sync with your mouth; every swirl of your tongue dragged him closer. His thighs trembled under your grip, his head fell back, and his voice broke on your name over and over.
"Oh fuck—shit, shit, shit—Y/N," he gasped sharply, halting his movements and gripping your shoulder, "Stop before I nut."
You pulled off with a loud pop, placing one last kiss on the swollen, spit-gleaming tip, before gliding up his body and mashing your lips against his in a sloppy kiss, tasting traces of your slick and sativa. His large hands roamed all over your body, squeezing your supple ass before ripping your panties clean off, ruining them even more than your wetness did.
He toppled you over onto the couch, and just as your back settled into the cushions, he gripped the bottom of your—his—hoodie and raised it over your head, then flung it across the room.
Excitedly, his tongue flicked at your nipple and swirled it around as he ground against you. "Stop giving me head like that," he grumbled as he released your nipple, trailing his tongue up your chest, up your neck, and landing a quick peck on your lips. "You tryna take a nigga soul?"
You giggled between moans as you rolled your hips up to match his movements. "I'll stop when you stop.”
He pulled back then, eyes heavy, lips slick with spit. “Y/N…”
Your name left him like a prayer, and suddenly it was you who was undone. Heat spiked through you, and your thighs tightened around his waist.
“God, Cam, don’t call out my name all desperate and shit while you’re lookin’ at me like that,” you whispered, breathless.
He smirked, but it was shaky; he was more undone than you. “Why not? It’s yours. Feels too fuckin’ good in my mouth.”
The words stole your breath, and the tension tipped—your legs pulling him closer, his hands sliding under you, mapping every inch of your skin with slow reverence.
He lined himself up against your entrance, dragging his length up and down your wet slit, only stopping to tap his fat tip against your sensitive clit, making you gasp and jerk beneath him in anticipation.
You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down into a sloppy kiss, tongues twisting against each other’s.
He slowly pushed inside, inching all the way oh so slowly. Your walls had no choice but to make room for his length and girth.
You gasped into his mouth, nails digging into his back. “Cam…”
The sound of his name like that made him shudder. He whispered yours right back, rough and broken, like he’s praying it.
“Shit—you squeezin’ the fuck out of me, baby,” he praised, moaning softly as he began to circle his hips.
“Please, fuck me harder,” you whispered against his lips.
He straightened up and began to thrust inside you, picking up the tempo once he established a good rhythm.
“Fuck,” he groaned, forehead pressing against yours. “You feel too good, Y/N. Too fucking good.”
You clutched his shoulders, nails biting lightly into his skin, gasping, “Cameron…”
The sound of his name ringing in the air from your lips wrecked him. His thrusts were slow at first, savoring, but every time you moaned his name, he lost a little more control.
Soon, the living room was filled with the sound of your wetness, his hips slamming hard against yours, and heavy breaths.
“Cameron,” you moaned breathlessly. He groaned in response, as he was beyond obsessed with the way you called his name.
“You look so pretty takin’ all this dick,” he praised, grip on your thighs tightening as he fucked you even faster. Warmth spread across your chest at the praise, and more wetness oozed out of your tight hole.
His hand slid up your body, squeezing your breast while the other bounced freely. The heightened intensity of the pleasure washed over you until it was all you could feel pulsing through your veins. He was fucking you so good.
“I love this pussy. Always grippin’ me like I’m not allowed to go nowhere else.”
You couldn't help but whimper as he brushed against that sweet spot deep inside of you. “You—ah shit—feel so fuckin’ good!”
His grip was so tight on your waist that you knew your hips would be sore in the morning. The thought alone made you wetter, so you rolled upward, meeting his thrusts. Whenever he left his mark, no matter how subtle or grandiose, it made you want to present it to whoever dared to sneak a peek.
Your thighs began to quiver, and your moans crescendoed as another orgasm approached.
“Fuuuck,” you gasped sharply. “Please don’t stop, Cam.”
“What a nigga get if he don’t stop?”
“Wh—whatever you want! Anything!”
“I want to be with you forever…and maybe even 50 more years after that. You cool with that?” He asked, leaning down and placing all of his weight on you, his large hands bracketing your head.
“Yes, yes, yes! Forever sounds good to me!” you cried out, squeezing your legs around him and holding onto his shoulders as he pounded you into the couch cushions. “Shit—Cam. I’m ‘bout to cum,” you breathed shakily, toes curling as your eyes snapped shut.
“I want that shit,” he grunted loudly, forehead bumping against yours as he felt your walls contract around him. “Cum all over this dick.”
Your orgasm ripped through you. Your mouth fell open in a silent scream. Your head was spinning so fast you felt like you were floating in space. He kept fucking you through it, the pace merciless, drilling the breath right out of your lungs.
He repeatedly hammered away at your g-spot; at this point all you could do was grab onto his arms and bury your face in his neck as you screamed his name. Your walls tightened around his dick again. You were trembling, gasping and whimpering.
“Shit, shit, shit,” He grunted loudly as he rutted into you like a crazy man, chasing his own orgasm. “I’m about to cum.”
“Cum for me, please,” you rasped.
He came with a shout, legs buckling, hips faltering as he twitched inside of you.
You were sprawled on the couch, plaits everywhere, skin glistening, still shaking from the encore that just happened on your couch. Your chest rising and falling fast, legs twitching every time Cameron moved inside of you.
He slumped on top of you, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, his lips pressing lazy kisses into your collarbone.
After a long moment of silence, in-tune heartbeats, and soft caresses, you broke the silence and whispered, "That was fuckin' awesome."
His voice was shredded and hoarse. “I swear to God this shit just gets better and better.”
You giggled softly as you brushed the hair at the back of his neck. “I feel like I can do anything and everything right now.”
Cameron shifted, gasping softly as he pulled out and gently tugged you up onto his chest. He stroked your back, kissing your temple slowly. “You’re shakin’, baby. You good?”
You hummed, already half-asleep. “I’m perfect. Just sore. Fucked-out. Starving like a muhfucker. But I don’t feel like moving.”
He chuckled, rubbing circles into your hip. “Yeah, I’m hungry as fuck, too.”
You grinned, mumbling into his chest. “Wake me up in 15 minutes so I can make us grilled cheese with extra provolone.”
