꒰ 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.
like he would be SO grumpy but affectionate at the same time idk especially with a child apprentice nendnwndj im not normal about him
if you ever thought about me being normal when it comes to john mmmmm i'm not :3 i think about john getting to treat his apprentice like his own child, i feel like deep within him he has a desire to actually be some sort of paternal figure to someone and him being different from what his own father was, despite his ways and his work he knows he is not bad and he does not wishes to make his apprentice go through the same hell he went as a kid so he is some sort of grumpy but tender adoptive dad in the end.
let's be honest, john isn't really patient so whenever he has some case on his hands he's rushing his apprentice all around.
"c'mere, love, you gotta be quick" he muses while pacing around the living room, the small cramped space littered with old newspapers and books, john stands while thumping his foot against the floor, bag on his hand and his trenchcoat already placed over his form.
as soon as you come out he gives you a stern look, it's been at least an hour since he was ready to leave and you were still looking for your boots which had been left behind the old couch.
"you've got to be bloody kidding me, lass..." his voice comes gruff from how impatient he's starting to feel, if this case were only a matter of life or death... which it could end up being "your fucking boots are behind the couch," he points out, his gaze following your sheepish form as you walk past him to fetch your shoes.
"if only your stupid flat wasn't a damn mess..." there it came, the response of his little punk as he so oftenly called you whenever you started to act up. the mused response would have made him upset but by this time he knew better and he had to cover his mouth as a smirk tugged at his lips.
"you're a bloody brat... can we leave already, love?" john asks at the end, his hand brushing his hair back as he held back a bark of laughter, walking past you not without ruffling your hair affectionately.
✦ ⎯⎯ ㅤִㅤ ୭ 𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑦𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 ( john constantine x reader )
ᨳ ꒰ précis ꒱. You’re powerful witch who finds herself locked away in a secret facility, your powers restrained. John Constantine is tasked with watching over you, but your interactions quickly escalate into a dangerous game of desire and manipulation. 1.6k words
୨ৎ warnings. gagging, blowjob, dark themes, language, manipulation, beat taming, bratty reader, hate to love.
𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟, thanks for everyone likes/reblogs/comments on my last fic ! glad to know im doing okay for my first blog, hope you enjoy this oneee 🤍
IN THE DARK CONFINES OF YOUR PRISON, the air hung heavy with tension as Constantine sauntered in, his gaze cold and calculating. You glared at him, your defiance simmering beneath the surface as he lit his cigarette with practiced ease.
“So, still causing trouble, are we?” he sneered, the smoke curling around his lips like a serpent ready to strike.
You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you leaned back against the cold metal of your cage.
You knew the figure, the both of you shared history. Was it something positive? No. Unforgettable? Yes, sadly.
“You’re not one to talk, Constantine. What brings you down to my little corner of hell?”
A dangerous glint flashed in his eyes as he took a step closer, the scent of smoke and whiskey mingling with the heady aroma of magic that permeated the air.
“I’m here to make sure you behave yourself, love. Can’t have you running amok and causing chaos now, can we?”
You bristled at his condescending tone, your hands curling into fists as you fought the urge to lash out.
“Who appointed you my bloody babysitter? Last time I checked, I don’t answer to anyone.”
Constantine chuckled darkly, the sound sending shivers down your spine.
“Oh, you’ll answer to me, sweetheart. Whether you like it or not.”
He stepped towards a chair and straddled it, his gaze never leaving yours as he exhaled a cloud of smoke.
“Now, let’s get one thing straight. I’m in charge here, and you will do as I say. Understand?”
You bristled at his arrogance, but something in his tone sent a thrill of excitement coursing through your veins.
“I swear to god when I’m out of this cage you won’t be smiling anymore,” You hissed. “So no, I won’t be doing as you say,”
A wicked grin spread across Constantine’s lips as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your skin.
“Trust me, love, you won’t like the consequences.”
You swallowed hard, the air crackling with tension as you met his gaze head-on.
“Try me, Constantine. I dare you.”
In the tense silence that followed, the air hung heavy with anticipation, each breath a struggle against the suffocating weight of desire and defiance.
Constantine’s eyes bore into yours, a challenge laid bare in their steely depths as he savored the delicious tension that crackled between you.
But you refused to back down, your resolve like iron as you held his gaze, daring him to make the first move.
And oh, how he relished in the challenge, the thrill of the hunt coursing through his veins like a drug.
With a low growl, he closed the distance between you, his presence looming over you like a dark shadow.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, love,” he warned, his voice a low, seductive purr that sent shivers down your spine.
“I can’t believe they had to put you in a secluded prison like this,” he mocked, a slight smile in the corner of his lips as he leaned away, lighting up a cigar.
“You’re still a little baby—sure you’re like, 380 years old or something, but ain’t that barely an adult for a witch?” He’d snark.
"Oh, spare me the sanctimonious crap, Constantine," you retorted, rolling your eyes with exaggerated disdain.
"You act like you're some kind of hero, but we both know you're just a washed-up has-been with a superiority complex. And for the record, I may be centuries old, but I've got more power in my pinky finger than you'll ever have in your entire miserable existence. So don't you dare patronize me with your petty insults and pathetic attempts at wit,”
Constantine chuckled softly, not amused by how bratty and defiant you were from a few simple jokes he had spoke. He sat there, shaking his head.
“Now, either help me bust out of this hellhole or get the hell out of my sight. Your choice, 'babysitter.'" You’d add.
Constantine's smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he took a long drag from his cigar, the smoke swirling lazily around him like a cloak of shadows.
"Touchy, aren't we?" he chuckled, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other with casual arrogance.
"But hey, if you're so eager to prove yourself, by all means, sweetheart," he continued, his voice laced with mockery as he gestured towards the reinforced walls of your prison cell.
"Want me to help you break free from those chains and wreak havoc like the big bad witch you think you are?”
He sighed, pondering his decision.
"But just remember, love," he added, his tone turning serious for a moment as he fixed you with a piercing gaze.
"I’d need something in return."
And with that, he leaned back in his chair, the smirk never leaving his lips as he awaited your next move, knowing full well that this game was far from over.
He unlocked the bars of the cell, closing it behind him as he shuffled the keys to undo your handcuffs, the metal now clanking in the ground as your wrists feel free once more.
Constantine clicked his tongue, gently pressing his hand against your shoulder before you started to stand up.
“You owe me,” He reminded you, your eyes flickering up to meet his brown eyed gaze.
You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at Constantine’s demand, wondering if he was serious about this whole debt thing.
“Seriously? Whatever, do you want me to be your sex slave or something?” you quipped, a hint of sarcasm lacing your words as a small chuckle escaped your lips.
Constantine remained silent, his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. One corner of his lips lifted into a light smirk, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
Narrowing your eyebrows, you suddenly realized that your flippant remark might have hit closer to the mark than you intended.
“It’s nothing big,” Constantine purred, his voice low and seductive. “There’s this motel we can stop by—I just want to see if that bratty mouth can do more than just argue.”
The car ride to the motel was shrouded in darkness, the only illumination coming from the dim glow of the dashboard lights and the occasional flicker of street lamps as they passed by.
The night air was heavy with anticipation, the tension between you and Constantine palpable as you made your way through the deserted streets.
The dingy motel loomed ahead, its neon sign flickering ominously in the darkness. As Constantine pulled into the parking lot, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease wash over you.
With a click of the door, Constantine stepped out of the car, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.
“Come on, love,” he muttered, his voice low and commanding. “Lets put you to good use,”
Heart pounding in your chest, you followed him into the motel room, the air thick with the scent of stale cigarettes and cheap cologne.
The room was small and cramped, the bed unmade and the curtains drawn tightly shut against the outside world.
Without a word, Constantine closed the door behind you, his eyes burning with a hunger that sent a thrill of anticipation coursing through your veins.
“On your knees,” he commanded, his voice rough with desire as he gestured towards the bed.
Trembling with anticipation, you sank to your knees before him, your pulse racing as you met his gaze head-on.
“I fucking hate you,” you whispered, your voice barely a breath as you reached for the zipper of his pants.
With a low growl, Constantine pushed you back onto the bed, his hands gripping your hair as he guided your head towards his throbbing length.
Your tongue slid against the tip, tasting the salty precum that leaked out of the nub.
“That’s it, love,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire as you took him into your mouth, eager to please him in every way possible.
As you surrendered to the intoxicating rhythm of his movements, you couldn’t help but moan around him, the sound sending a jolt of pleasure coursing through his veins.
“That’s right,” he growled, his grip tightening on your hair as he drove himself deeper into your mouth.
As he moved back and forth, his cock continued to hit the back of your throat, each thrust pushing you to the brink of gagging.
With each response, you only whimpered, your eyes locking onto his with a mix of submission and desire. They glowed a bright red, a telltale sign of a flustered witch overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.
“Oh, do you like this?” he mocked, his smirk widening as he increased the pace, his cock sliding between your small, plump lips.
“And here I thought you hated me,” he’d add. A strand of your dress slipped off your shoulder, exposing more of your skin to his hungry gaze.
“I bet this witch would like more than one hole filled,” he laughed, the sound mingling with your muffled moans as he drove himself deeper into your mouth.
His words sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine, your body trembling with desire for more.
“I’m close, baby—stay like that for me,” he huffed, his movements becoming more urgent as he neared the edge of ecstasy.
The sight of you, on your knees before him, your mouth stretched around his twitching cock, was enough to push him over the edge.
And as he reached the peak of pleasure, spilling himself into your eager mouth, you couldn’t help but revel in the intoxicating sensation of him filling you completely.
He leaned back, watching as his hot seed filled your entire mouth, an amused smirk now on his lips.
Note: Final part of Sleep! I adjusted pov, so you get more internal thoughts on Constantine and I have to say...I enjoyed writing it this way. Apologies for any mistakes with tenses, spelling, grammar etc. Enjoy!
The shift of Constantine’s body stirs you awake. You’re bleary-eyed and instinctively reach out to him, hand landing on warm skin. In the early days, you worried over disturbing him that way, conscious of how his eyes would flit about looking any other way but yours. It was obvious that intimacy was foreign for him, few, far between and then, completely forgotten.
Of course, until you met each other.
Constantine would find himself walking closer alongside you whenever he called you out to meet at a diner either early mornings or late nights. He had your order memorized before long, and it would be ready by the time you showed up. The small smile that would creep up on your face as you walked closer to the booth made something stir in him. He didn’t know what it was then. Only that it satisfied him more than any drag from a cigarette ever did. It started as a low thrumming in the pit of his stomach that slowly wound its way to the center of his chest. Every order pushed him closer to the edge.
“You okay?” The softness of your voice brings him back into himself. He makes a low grunt, taking your hand in his, absentmindedly following the lines of your palm as he moves closer to you. Constantine doesn’t answer right away, just sighs and stretches before turning to face you. His silence doesn’t bother you. It never did, really. This is where you both stood on the same ground. Sitting in peaceful bliss, tuning into the sounds around you harmonizing; making music just for the two of you to make sense of.
Your body is half in and out of the blankets. An old trusty fan whirring in the corner of the room makes the window curtain sway in rhythm. It’s already nighttime, and with every sway of the curtain, the full moon casts a shadow onto his face.
“Are you okay?” You ask again, insistent. He rolls his eyes playfully and nods, “Yeah.” You laugh a little, and he smiles at the sight of it. He can remember the first time you laughed at something he said. It was loud and obnoxious, and it seemed to have bounced off the tiles in his kitchen in a way that scratched the part of his brain where every cell of satisfaction was housed. It pulled and twisted at him with fiery bursts of warmth that scared the absolute shit out of him. Before he knew it, there was another sound accompanying yours, and it took him much too long to figure out it was his own laugh escaping him; rough and deep pouring out of his throat.
“If you really want, I’ll stay behind this time.” You get to the point, much too tired to pretend not to know what’s wrong with him. You can feel his body suddenly tense as he squeezes your hand in his.
“It’s not that I don’t want you with me. I do. I always want you with me.” You hold your breath, afraid any sudden movement might make him clam up and retreat back into his shell. Constantine doesn’t look at you. He continues to follow the lines of your palm, eyebrows furrowed, frowning. To anyone else, he would seem to be utterly frustrated and angry, but you know what this is. You know there is something sharp trying to claw its way out of his mouth, and he’s fighting to swallow it back down out of habit.
“I can’t lose you.” He whispers, and there it is. His chest is rising and falling semi rapidly. The air is thick and heavy with his fear and love and cynicism all rolled into a cloud swirling above him, reaching out to choke him.
“You won’t lose me, Constantine.”
“You don't know that. You don't.” He suddenly shifts onto his back, the moon now highlighting the tufts of hair near his belly button. There are scars riddling his body, many across his stomach and sides. Deep gashes that healed crudely over time. A few are raised when you pass over them, and every time you see them, you wonder how he has managed to survive for this long.
“No. I don’t, but I want to be your backup. I can help you. I love to be able to help you.” The cadence of your voice centers him. That swirling cloud of fear follows the current of air being pushed around the room by the fan in the corner and dissipates. He sighs out loud.
“You keep saying that as if you’re not helpful when you’re in the library.”
“Constantine-”
“I refuse to lose you. Don’t you understand? You are m-my life.” He sits up, losing his balance slightly; his back colliding with the headboard harder than he probably meant to. He runs one hand in his hair, roughly, and you sit up with him. You feel the panicked vibration through the skin of his thigh when your hand lands there.
“I am?” Constantine looks pained when you ask him that question. He starts to go through every touch of your hand on his body, the soft whispery kisses you have given him on the top of his eyelids while he was deep inside of you. How could you not know? Did he not show you enough?
“Of course you are.” He takes your hand and puts it to his lips, kissing you softly right in the center and then places it on his chest. The way he looks at you, then, with hooded eyes, lips parted and pink, your heart lurches out toward him. “I’m sorry you have to even question that.” He brings your hand to his lips again for a quick kiss and motions you to come closer and lay your legs over his. You do, without hesitation, you do.
“I don’t want to lose you either. I know you can handle yourself, you’ve been doing it for years without me but,” you sigh and look in his eyes, “I want to know I’ve done everything in my power to make sure you come back home to me. That we come back home with each other.” Constantine feels his heart skip a beat, the next big thumping pound in his chest jolting. Your eyes are glistening with unshed tears, and he can say for certain, without a shadow of a doubt that-
“I am in love with you.” He says, the words shooting out of his mouth hurriedly, impatient, and bent at the corners. Your intake of breath worries him for a second, but he doesn’t have time to think about it more because your lips are on his. They’re familiar and soft and warm against his. Your mind is whirling with what this really means. How it means that even though you have parts of yourself you wish you could change or how you’ve worried that you weren’t a pretty little thing made of porcelain, he’s in love with you all the same. When you part, all there is is quiet breathing back and forth between you both.
“Do you remember the first time you called me for a job?” Constantine laughs, head tipped back, and you watch the movement in his throat, committing the sound to memory.
“How could I forget? To this day, I don’t know how we ended up in that abandoned cabin.”
“Me either, but we were hiding out for a while, and it started to rain.” He sucks his teeth when you mention it, remembering that it took forever to get that smell of rain mixed in with musty cabin out from his coat.
“There were so many holes in the roof, I’m surprised we could find a decent spot in there.” You laugh, nodding along.
“But we did,” he grunts in response, “and I recall at some point in the night I was getting tired and you seemed to have noticed because the next thing I know, you took off your coat and folded it up as best as you could and placed it on your lap,” you shake your head thinking of it, “and I was confused by that. So confused.”
Constantine watches you pause mid telling. He notices this shine in your eyes, and when your eyelashes flutter as you look up at him, he thinks - no, he knows his heart stops right then.
“Without saying a word, you nudged me to come closer to you, almost like how we are now, and motioned me to lay my head on your lap and I did-” You whisper the next part, realizing, “I hadn’t been able to get a proper night’s rest until that night. And I knew then that I would always love you, Constantine.”
He could never possibly define the emotion that swells within him. It’s akin to looking up at the sky and feeling the spotlight of warmth from the sun setting just on you and no one else. How the light streams through the trees and catches only you and no one else. There’s always that sharp bite gnawing at him, wanting to keep that feeling from getting close, but all he needs to do is bring your name to his lips and it falls away; the points of the teeth dulling and retreating.
“Come with me.” You look at him confused as he moves your legs gently and gets out of bed. The way the blanket falls away from his body is sultry and distracting, but the sound of his feet as he walks over to you brings you back to focus.
“Where to?” You sit up straighter, moving closer to the edge of the bed. He goes into your shared closet and begins to rummage through things. You’re curiously watching him, but get out of bed and grab your nearest flannel. There’s a comfortable chill in the air as you reach over to your bedside table and turn the lamp on.
You watch him turn around with a couple of towels and a few other things stacked on top of them. You turn your head to the side, and he wonders if you could be any more beautiful.
“A warm bath should help your injury some more.” You don’t have time to say anything else as he walks out of the room. You look over at the clock and see it’s 2:35 a.m. You shrug and follow him, as you always do.
—
The bath is already running when you walk in. He’s brought a chair over from the kitchen to sit while he runs his fingers to make sure the water isn’t scalding. He knows it’s late. He knows that he wants to get back in bed with you as soon as possible so your warmth is marred into his side, but after hearing that you love him back, he wants nothing more than to take care of you like this.
“A bath?”
“Yes, a bath.”
“Hm, okay.” You go to take your flannel off, but Constantine moves behind you and takes over. His breath is at the nape of your neck, and you’re almost embarrassed that he has most certainly noticed the goosebumps that have risen over your skin.
“Let me.” You feel yourself begin to unpack, unfold in front him with every article of clothing he strips you of softly and slowly, delicately. You’re not usually seen as delicate, but with the ways Constantine regards you in touch and in words, you are to him, and that’s all that matters.
When you step in the tub and lay down, he sifts through the water with his hands. It’s quiet apart from that and the sounds of the chair as he moves.
“How is it?”
“Perfect, thank you.”
“Of course.” He watches you sink yourself completely and come up, hands wiping at your face to get the water away from your eyes. A part of him wants to slide in with you, but for tonight all he craves is to make sure you never question how he feels about you. Craves? It’s so strange to him still, this kind of need that makes his fingers itch to touch you all the time. If he were to be blindfolded and made to find you in a sea of people, he would know the feel and scent of your skin apart from everyone else, every time.
“So,” You begin, “may I?” He rings the water out of a cloth and begins to soap it up.
“May you what?”
“May I come with you next time?” The question makes a chuckle come out of him and he shakes his head as he starts to run the cloth over your arm, the suds making that foamy popping sound you’ve always loved.
“You’re stubborn, you know that?”
“But you love me still, so.” You shrug and he can’t argue with that at all. It’s why he loves you, actually.
“The client wants me- us to meet him at the Vatican in a couple of days. Flights are booked.” You look at him, eyebrows raised.
“Like, the Vatican?”
“Funny, that’s exactly what I asked, but yeah.”
“And you were thinking of going without me?” He doesn’t have time to block the puff of soapy suds that land on his face. Your laugh gets louder when he sputters and wipes at his mouth.
“Play nice!” Your laugh turns to giggles. He continues to bathe you, scrubbing away at your arms, neck, and chest. When he gets to your breasts and a soft sigh escapes from your lips, he knows that the need to have you back in bed increases exponentially.
After a while, the silence hovers over the both of you comfortably. You feel your eyelids growing heavier with every passing minute.
“Ready?” Constantine’s voice feels far away, softly making its way to you like it's a secret you both share. You turn over and look up at him, wanting to sit in this moment for a bit longer. He’s leaned down toward you, hair disheveled, voice full of sleep.
“I love you,” he whispers, planting a kiss on your forehead.
“I’m ready, Constantine.” He feels his heart come up his throat, trying to bound its way out of his mouth to present to you as a gift. His life at your hands, beating and pumping only for you. How can this happen to someone like him? How? But he remembers that angels exist, demons too, but here you were given to him, a light swallowing him whole, and he’s letting you.
“And I love you.” Your hands are wet as they trace the lines of his lips. He doesn’t seem bothered by it at all, just smiles and helps you out of the tub.
Before long you’re both back in bed. Back in each others warmth, limbs tangled underneath the blankets you share. The old trusty fan is still whirring in the corner of the room, making the curtain sway in rhythm. You’re lying on his chest, his heartbeat syncing up with yours. You feel his hand on your head, fingers lightly scratching at your scalp. You’re asleep before him, almost always are. He knows this by your breathing pattern, and it calms him to know you’re safe tucked away in this apartment with him.
Constantine doesn’t know everything. He doesn’t know how you get the information you’re able to get so fast when he needs it. He doesn’t know why he was born into a life like this and why he accepted it without question, but he knows one thing, though.
If ever he were posed the question, “Do you want to try again?” at any point in his life, he would say,"No." He doesn’t need to. Every time you look up at him with those eyes, he knows this is what it will forever be.
Summary: John needs to feel in control after a job goes sideways. You let him do what he wants with you.
Taken from a chapter of one of my bigger works but this smut needed to be shared on its own. Enjoy ;)
Warnings: Bondage, Dirty talk, Dom/ sub Dynamics, Choking, Face Fucking, Asphyxiation, Orgasm Denial, Begging
Standing in the middle of your bedroom, you watch eagerly as John uses his magic to dim the lights. Your body is already thrumming with anticipation and he's yet to touch you. When he steps closer, smirking dangerously, it takes every inch of your self control not to beg him to do so.
“Don’t move.” He commands, his mouth inches from yours. “Hands at your sides until I tell you otherwise.”
John disappears into your shared closet. You hear him moving things around but you don't dare turn to see what he’s doing. Excitement traces goosebumps over your skin, making you shiver as you wonder what he plans to do to you.
“Look at me.” John orders as he steps in front of you again. You obediently lift your gaze to meet his dark, lust filled eyes. “Tell me your safe words, pet.” Even in a whisper, his demanding tone sends a thrill down your spine.
Your throat works hard as you swallow audibly, feeling arousal simmering in the pit of your stomach. “Yellow is 'slow down' and Boston is 'stop'.”
“Good girl.” John praises as he slowly circles around you, every bit the predator. “Now, I am going to push you tonight sweet’eart, but you are going to enjoy this as much as I am.”
When you nod in response, John stops directly behind you. “Use your words, pet.” He chuckles, his voice dropping low and dark. “Are you going to be a good girl for Johnny?”
You know John needs this as much as you do. Needs to feel like he has some semblance of power after the mess with the failed Exorcism. He desperately craves control; you know the most satisfying way for him to take it back is to exert dominance over the one aspect of his life that makes him spiral outward.
You.
Allowing John to take control; to claim you, consume you, will give you both what you need. And so you surrender willingly. Eagerly. Without hesitation.
“Yes, Sir.”
John hums his approval as he wraps one of his ties around you as a blindfold. “As much as I love your eyes pleading up at me when I fuck your mouth, pet. I don’t want you to see what I’m planning to do to you. Not yet.”
Once he’s sure the blindfold is secure and you can’t see a thing, John steps away from you. You whine at the loss of contact, making him chuckle from somewhere to your left.
“How you’re feeling right now? Desperate, aching to please me? That’s how I like you, sweet’eart; how I plan to keep you until I’m satisfied.”
You swallow and press your thighs together, his words sending shivers through you. “God, Johnny. You can’t -” A sharp slap to your ass makes you jump and stop mid sentence. “I’m… I’m sorry, Sir.”
“Careful, sweet’eart.” You can hear the smile in his voice as he steps in front of you. “Don’t make me have to punish you.”
His fingers trace along your cheek and jaw, making you lean into his touch. When his thumb runs along your bottom lip, you obediently open your mouth and let him rest it on your tongue.
With his permission, you gently swirl the tip of your tongue around his finger, smiling as he lets out a low groan. “I reckon I can think of a much better use for this pretty little mouth.” John murmurs after a few moments, in a voice so low you can feel it between your legs.
“On your knees, luv.” He orders and with a smirk, you comply; settling yourself down at his feet.
“Good girl.” He murmurs, running his fingers through your hair. He tugs at the crown, making your lift your head. “You know what I want; hands behind your back and open up for Johnny.”
You nod as you hear rustling, then the sound of John’s dress pants being unzipped. He runs his cock along your lips, teasing you for a moment, before pushing himself into your waiting mouth. You relax your jaw as much as you can to accommodate him, resting your tongue on the underside of his cock as you wait for him to move.
When you swallow around him, John groans and pulls himself back a bit. You know that’s all the warning you’re going to get.
When his hips snap forward, his cock hits the back of your throat. He stays still for a moment; one hand fisted in your hair, the other holding tight to your chin. “You look so bloody beautiful like this; on your knees, my cock stuffed in your mouth.”
You gag and struggle to breathe around the hardness blocking your airway. When John chuckles above you, you feel your cheeks heat as desire pulses in your core.
The seconds drag by at a maddening pace as you wait for him to pull back. You enjoy every moment; your nails digging into your own wrists, the wetness gathering in your panties. Your thighs clench together at what John’ll think when he helps you out of them.
You let out a gasp, greedily sucking in air when John steps back. “Such a good girl for me.” He praises, moving the hand on your chin to quickly slap your cheek. The sting of it immediately aches between your legs.
“Now, take a deep breath, pet.” He advises, moving his other hand to your hair. “I’m going to fuck that pretty mouth of yours.”
You let out a soft moan, angling your head to take as much of him as you can, as he pushes forward. He begins a steady pace, shoving your head down further than you thought you could on your own. You can hear his low groans of approval over the choking sounds coming out of your throat.
Spit trails out of the corners of your mouth as he repeatedly thrusts into it. When you feel him pulse down your throat, you swallow everything and wait for him to let you up. He doesn’t.
John holds you down on his cock, your nose pressed against his groin until your eyes start to water. Blinking against the blindfold, you make a desperate noise in the back of your throat.
You try to lean your head back but his hands in your hair keep you from moving. One moves to rip off the blindfold, making you blink furiously to clear your vision. When you shake your head, indicating that you need air, John smirks from above you, his eyes dark and dangerous.
“I’m a simple bloke, really.” John shrugs, carefully wiping your tears away. “I fancy watching you struggle more than I fancy letting you breathe.” That sends a ripple of fire to your core and when he finally pulls away, you let yourself fall forward to drag air into your lungs.
After you’ve caught your breath, John holds out a hand to help you stand. You wipe at the corners of your mouth and smirk at him. “Well, I’m a simple girl, and I like letting you do that to me more than I probably should.”
“That’s why you’re brilliant and all mine.” He growls, his gaze darkening as he looks you over. “Aren’t you, pet?”
“Yes.” You whisper hoarsely, your throat sore from his brutal treatment of it. “Yours.”
“Good girl. Now, I reckon you’re rather overdressed, sweet’eart.” He gestures to your shirt and jeans. “Let’s change that, shall we?” When you nod, he pulls your top over your head and crouches down to help you out of your pants.
When John’s hand grazes over your panties to pull them down, he smirks up at you. “You’re soaked, luv, and I’ve barely touched you.” Your cheeks flush as he stands and reaches behind you to unhook your bra. “So desperate for Johnny, aren’t you?”
When you can only nod, he yanks you to him, pulling you in for a bruising kiss. After a moment, he pulls away, leaving your legs feeling weak. “Bed.” He orders and you walk yourself backward, maintaining eye contact until your legs hit the mattress.
You sit on the edge and make yourself scoot backward until you’re at the headboard. For a moment, John remains standing as it’s your turn to look him over. His muscles stretch over broad shoulders underneath his dress shirt. Despite the cuts marring his face, he’s still devastatingly handsome.
A dangerous glint in John’s eyes makes you shiver as he slowly climbs onto the mattress, burgundy tie in hand. “Hands above your head.” He requests lightly, as he straddles your chest.
You comply without hesitation and John sets to work, looping the tie through the metal of the headboard and around your wrists tight enough that you’re not escaping until he lets you.
Testing the knot, you tug down and gasp when the material tightens a bit. John chuckles as he leans back to inspect his handiwork. “Fucking hell, sweet’eart. You’ve no bloody idea what seeing you like this does to a devious tosser like myself.”
John twists his upper half and murmurs something under his breath. Your legs move on their own as invisible bonds lash your ankles to the footboard. You couldn’t move them if you wanted to. When he turns back, he grins down at you. You swallow back your nervousness as you realize you’re completely at his mercy.
“So now that I've got you all trussed up, what will I do with you?” John rests one hand at the base of your throat, pressing down just enough for you to feel the weight of his hand with each swallow. “Maybe, I'll just take what I want. I reckon you'd fancy that. Wouldn't you, sweet’eart?”
You nod as best as you can with his hand where it is. “I thought so.” John chuckles, moving his fingers to run them lightly over your breasts. You gasp and arch your back when he rolls a nipple between his fingers. He continues to pinch and play with your breasts until you’re whimpering under his hands.
Once he’s satisfied, John scoots backward and pulls out his cock. He gives it a few quick strokes and presses it against your entrance. You squirm anxiously as he runs the tip through your slick folds, teasing you until you’re reduced to whimpers and pleading. “Please, J- Sir.”
“Oh, please what? Sweet’eart, what do you need?”
You meet his eyes, letting John see just how blown you know your pupils are. “Fuck me, Johnny. Please.” With a dark grin, he obliges, sinking himself into your warmth.
John hisses with pleasure as his hips move back and forth torturously slow. “Please, God, I can’t...” You plead, arching your hips against his.
“Good girl,” he groans, “you feel so good around me, luv. So bloody tight.” John pulls back, before snapping his hips forward again. He hits your G spot dead on, making you fight back the urge to scream in pleasure as he relentlessly repeats the action.
John’s left hand collars your throat, pressing down and squeezing hard enough to make it difficult to breathe. He fucks into you with an almost brutal pace, squeezing off your air in rhythm with the snapping of his hips. You tug against your restraints, feeling the stress in your wrists as you pull against his tie.
“Bloody hell.” he groans as he begins rubbing maddeningly quick circles on your clit with his free hand. He snaps his hips forward one more time and you can feel John’s cock pulse inside you as he cums.
John slows his motions but doesn’t fully pull out of you. “Keep me warm, will you darlin’?” He smirks wickedly. When you nod, he sinks himself back into you with a low groan.
You can’t help but moan and whimper underneath him as you feel your body start to tense up. As electricity builds in your core, you pull hard on your wrists until they ache. Between John’s hand around your throat and his other rubbing your clit, you know your own orgasm is about to crash over you.
When his hand stills, hovering just before your release, you whine desperately. If you were able to move your legs, you would have squeezed them together, desperate for the friction you’d create.
“Wha- please, don’t stop. Don't stop.” You beg, earning only a smirk from him in response. “Please, please let me cum.”
John tilts his head, flexing the fingers around your throat. “Uh uh uh, do you want to cum, sweet’eart, or do you want to breathe?” His thumb brushes softly against your clit as he shifts inside you, making you whimper at how full you feel. “I won’t allow both.”
He can’t be serious. You tug at your wrists again, glaring up at how they’re expertly bound above your head, before peering back at him. You’re heatedly aware that it’s futile to try to escape, to try to do anything else, but give him an answer.
John’s sandy hair falls onto his forehead, sticking to his skin as he watches you with sinister interest. Sweat has dampened the chest of his dress shirt, making you wish you could peel him out of it. He shifts his body, allowing him a stronger grip on your neck and you whimper again without meaning to.
The amber of John’s eyes bores into yours when you nod, and he squeezes your throat in clear warning. “Come on now, use your words, luv.” His tone is slightly mocking, further igniting the arousal in your belly. “What'll it be then?”
The desperate ache between your thighs makes logical thinking impossible. You try to shake your head, but his hand won’t allow it.
This is out of your comfort zone; the thought of allowing John this much control over you is a little frightening. But you trust him and know you can halt everything with one word if it’s too much.
“I…” You swallow, feeling the heavy weight of his hand against your skin. “I want to cum.”
John grins wickedly, pleased by your decision. “I was hoping you’d say that.” The look in his eyes makes you shiver as he leans forward and presses down. You let out a strangled moan as your air is choked off.
“Sweet’eart, you’ve no bloody idea how good you look with my hand around your throat.” John groans, pushing himself further inside you, as his dark honeyed eyes meet yours. “If I had my way, I reckon I’d keep you like this forever.”
The idea that John wants to keep you like this, tied up, helpless and at the mercy of his wicked desires, sends a shiver down your spine that goes right to your core. He knows exactly what to say to push you to your breaking point each time.
As you gasp for air, the hand between your legs makes quick circles until you start to feel familiar pressure coiling in your stomach. You arch off the bed when his thumb grazes harshly over your clit. “Johnny, please." You choke out. He only grins, refusing to lessen his grip.
You trust John completely, but still have to fight off a moment of panic as you’re truly unable to pull in any air when your lungs start to ache for it. You subconsciously tug at your wrists and squirm under him; your stomach clenching with unbridled need for both air and for him.
The loss of air, the sheer helplessness of your situation, makes everything John’s doing to you more intense. Each graze of his fingers, each filthy thing he murmurs as he watches you struggle under him pushes you closer and closer to the orgasm he denied you earlier.
John knows it too, as he leans down and whispers “Let go. Cum for me, pet” into your ear. Blackness blooms across your vision as you feel your orgasm crash through you at his command. It’s unlike any you’ve previously experienced; sharper, electric at the edges, and you gasp against his fingers, shivering as you ride out the aftershocks.
John releases his grip on your throat and as he works at the knot keeping your wrists lashed to the head board, he murmurs a spell to free you legs. You greedily pull air into your lungs and try to steady your thundering heartbeat.
“That’s my good girl.” He praises, pulling you close to him and pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “You did so good for Johnny. I’m so bloody proud of you.”
You bask in the warmth of his words as he quickly steps out to grab a towel. Leaning your head back against the pillows, you let out a soft sigh. Your wrists will be bruised in the morning, you’re sure of it. Possibly your neck too. You’re surprised to discover that you don’t mind having him mark you like that. It makes you feel owned, his.
John knows exactly how to shut off your racing brain. You were right, you both needed this. As he cleans you up, you close your eyes and relax into his touch. Once he’s satisfied, he pulls your blanket over you and softly plays with your hair until your eyes start to grow heavy.
“That was ‘mazing.” You mumble, resting your head against his chest.
Summary: John has a secret that Liv could never know.
Pairing: John Constantine x OFC
Word count: 853
Warning: ANGST with a happy ending
It had been a few months since John had finally moved into Liv’s house.
Their relationship was going well and they had never had any big problems, or at least problems that would not be solved after a little discussion and good sex.
But it all changed when Constantine started acting weird.
Now, tired of the strange behavior of the man and the continuous vague answers he gave her, she decided to face him as soon as he returned home after one of his usual unjustified outings.
He would go out in the morning without telling where he was going, coming home late at night or not coming back at all, leaving Liv alone.
When he canceled their dates, John always made up ridiculous excuses promising her to make amends and that next time he would be there.
A promise that, each time, was broken together with the heart of the girl who, by now, was tired of the usual "justifications" that the man found everytime.
It was now after midnight, the dinner that she had prepared for their anniversary was now cold.
The candles on the table had gone out and the only thing that illuminated the room was the light of the full moon coming in through the window.
With tears in her eyes, and with a broken heart, Liv rose from the chair and moved it with a sudden movement causing it to fall.
The girl did not have time to take a single step towards the bedroom when she heard the main door open.
Sensing that John had returned home Liv did not look him in the eye "welcoming" him with a cold "Happy Anniversary."
"It’s not a big deal? OF COURSE IT’S NOT A FUCKING BIG DEAL FOR YOU" was the only thing Liv managed to say before releasing her wrist from his grip.
Not leaving Constantine time to answer the girl ran to the room, not wanting to be seen by the man in that state.
She was almost at the door when John took her wrist trying to stop her.
"Why are you so upset? Ok I’m late but is not a big deal"
Go back to that bitch you’re cheating on me with."
The girl, after a few seconds, found the courage to look John in the eye
trying to calm the heart that, at that moment, beat them to a thousand.
Trying to stop the tears that were wetting her cheeks Liv took a deep breath.
"I no longer care about your excuses, I no longer care where you go at night, I no longer care what you do or who you betray me with.
Constantine was estranged by the girl’s words but decided not to say anything before looking at her one last time and then leaving Liv alone and heartbroken.
What could he expect from John Constantine? That he would stay with her forever?
"What a fool I’ve been." It was the only thing she said before she went to the room and lay on the bed, face pressed against the pillow, letting the tears come down uninterruptedly.
Liv fell asleep but, after a while, she felt something soft pressing against her arm waking her up.
Slowly opening her eyes the girl found herself in front of a black cat she had never seen before.
Thinking she was dreaming she blinked her eyes a couple of times but the cat kept sitting there, sitting on the bed, looking at her with her yellow eyes.
"He’s the reason I went out without warning you, teh reason because I was late for appointments or didn’t show up at all."
Looking up quickly, Liv saw John leaning against the doorjamb, looking at her with a neutral expression.
To many it may seem his usual expression but she knew the man well and, in his eyes, glimpsed sadness for having hurt his feelings.
The girl sat on the bed while, with one hand, she stroked the cat and then nodded her head, telling Constantine to keep talking.
"It’s a stray cat, I found it one day on my way home.
I didn’t want him, but he started following me to my apartment, so I started taking care of him."
John remained slightly from his reaction and, when they departed, he raised an eyebrow to ask for explanations.
Liv passed a few minutes after the man had finished speaking, before getting up and heading towards him.
Looking him in the eye with a serious expression the girl took his face in her hands kissing him.
She responded with a grin on her lips and a giggle before returning to sit on the bed taking the cat in her arms focusing all her attention on the animal.
"The next time a cat follows you around the house and you decide to take care of him, tell me right away."
"Sorry" was the only thing Constantine said before sitting next to Liv, surrounding her waist with an arm, leaving her a kiss on the neck before whispering an "I love you" who received as a response a "me too"
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 2/12
Fandom: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Relationships: John Constantine/Zari Tarazi, John Constantine & Sara Lance, John Constantine & Nate Heywood, John Constantine & Ava Sharpe, John Constantine & Mick Rory, John Constantine & Behrad Tarazi, John Constantine & Gideon
Characters: John Constantine, Zari Tarazi, Sara Lance, Nate Heywood, Ava Sharpe, Behrad Tarazi, Gideon (DC's Legends of Tomorrow)
Additional Tags: Post-Season/Series 05, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Team as Family, Friendship, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Flashbacks, Mental Health Issues, Confessions, Heart-to-Hearts, Self-Hatred, Self-Blame, Self-Harm - Scratching, Heavy Angst, Hopeful Ending, John Constantine-centric
Summary: After the Loom and Sara’s brief abduction, things settle down for the Legends. Including John, who might actually be happy, right up until things go absurdly wrong for him on a minor solo mission, and he’s left shaken. No, he doesn’t know why he’s surprised either.
What’s surprising is how his unexpectedly stable relationship with Zari keeps being unexpectedly stable in spite of everything. And how the other Legends, once they find out, throw a spanner in his inevitable downward spiral thanks to their well-meaning, though often painfully awkward and occasionally misguided, support. So that’s...well, it’s not as bad as it could be.
