#constantine x reader

[iovesia]

hear me out you guys… crybaby!reader in a threesome with john constantine and john wick.. 

⊹ fem!reader. threesome. degrading.

very good cop/bad cop energy. wick is so sweet with you, brushing your hair from your face as you wrap your lips around his cock, gently guiding you. on the other hand, constantine is on the other end, plowing into you. you swear you could feel him deep in your cervix. the sound of skin slapping, and choking echoes through the room.

“my sweet girl, you’re doing so well for me,” wick lets out a guttural moan as the tip of his flushed cock hits the back of your throat.

you wanna please him so badly, you wanna hear his praises. his sweet darling girl just wants to be so good for him :(

you feel his hand trailing down to your breasts as he rubs his thumb over your nipple. a moan escapes your throat and vibrates down his cock.

“you spoil the fucking brat too much,” constantine hisses, his hands gripped tight on each side of your hips, vehemently pulling you closer to him. you gasp as a stinging sensation blooms in your left cheek, as constantine delivers a particularly hard smack.

“no wonder she likes me better,” wick rolls his eyes. at that moment, your fluttering walls clench around constantine's cock. you gaze up at wick through your wet lashes, tears beginning to brim your waterline as you rub your hand up and down what you couldn’t fit in your mouth.

“that’s not what her pretty pussy thinks,” constantine retorts, slowing down his pace and watching his cock disappear in and out of your puffy cunt. “such a cockslut, she likes all her holes being filled. don’t you, you little brat?”

wick softly grabs a handful of hair and pulls you off his large cock. you bit your lower lip hard, and press your nails into wick's legs, leaving red crescent shaped marks on his thighs. “y-yes, i do.”

“yes, you do what?” wick raises a brow condescendingly, his hand now holding your chin. 

“yes, i do, s-sir,” you stammer, squeezing your eyes shut and letting the tears flow freely down your face.

“there’s my sweet girl,” wick presses his lips to yours, swallowing your mewls, “always so polite, isn’t she?”

𝒊𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒂 © do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

#i need to be locked away in an asylum #she is THROBBING #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves x reader #john wick x reader #john constantine x reader #john wick imagine #constantine x reader #*⠀john constantine. #*⠀john wick. #crybaby!reader

[97keanu]

John Constantine x f!Reader

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.

Be added to my tag lists here! Read more of my works here!

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.

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#john constantine x reader #constantine x reader #constantine fanfic #constantine 2005 #my writing

[johnwickb1tsch]

Yandere Tex Johnson x Witness!Reader x John Wick (AND x Constantine😜) Imagine WIP Part 9

Here we go my lovelies! @treedaddymcpuffpuff @sweetwolfcupcake @tammykelly @lilspookymeh @kurai-hono-blog

Wick could have been an asshole about buying a brand new kitchen, sundries included–but instead he merely shrugs off Constantine's hostile question. "Seemed like the least I could do."

Constantine glares, but lets it go, begrudgingly sitting down to a delectable meal cooked by the man he knows, deep down, that you've never been able to forget. 

At Tex's midday administering of magical medicine, he takes your hand after you finish, refusing to let go. "Set with me a while, Rattlesnake." He pats the couch, on which there is no room unless you were to sit in his lap–undoubtedly his hope.

With a sigh and a knowing smirk you settle back in your chair. Your eyes are drawn to the burn upon his chest. He will carry that mark for the rest of his life, even if the magic is lifted.

You think on what Papa Midnite said to Constantine. "Take some big feeling..."

It kind of floors you, to think of the energy it took for Constantine to conjure that working out of thin air.

For you.

You told him a little bit about the boys. How they hurt you–and, how they saved your life. How you loved them, and how they destroyed you in their abandonment. No matter how you framed it, Constantine blamed them for the bullet wound forever seared in your side.

However, it wasn’t so simple as that. 

"Whacha thinking, baby girl?"

You just shake your head with a tired smile. "Nothing important."

"Hmm. You gonna make me guess? Alright. You're thinkin'...bout that time in Mexico it was just you an me and the stars, out by the pool in our birthday suits."

You snort–quite against your will, it turns into a giggle. 

"No..."

"Uh huh. You’re missin' my wicked tongue up between your thighs. I know that look."

"That's enough of that," you say, trying to stand. But he has your hand, and he tugs you so that you fall down to sit on the edge of the couch–and half on him. Your faces hover just centimeters away. You watch with horror a he tries to lean in, capitalizing on the opportunity. By the skin of your teeth, your heart in your throat, you just barely manage to turn your head.

"Didn't you miss me, rattlesnake?" he asks, his deep voice all sultry and low just wrecking you to the bone.

You dare reach up to caress his cheek with the blade of your thumb. "Of course I did. But there’s no going back, Tex. Maybe...that time is behind us." Just saying it hurts like a knife between the ribs, but you go on, “Maybe you and John did the right thing, letting me go.”

He just narrows his dark eyes at hearing that. You hate the way it gives you such a thrill, to the base of your spine, and lower still. “I thought you were mad about that? Hell, I’m still mad about that. I miss you so much I can hardly think straight. There’s just…” He frowns while he says it, but you know it’s just because he’d literally rather take a bullet than talk about his feelings. His grip on your hand tightens; he glares down at your silver rings like they owe him money.  “There ain’t no point to anything, when you’re gone. Do you know what I mean?”

You close your eyes; for a moment you feel as though the floor has dropped out from under you, because you know exactly what he means. You lived it for months after they booted you, drifting from country to country, an empty husk of a woman, a gaping black hole where your heart used to be. Only after moving to LA, thinking about going back to school, and meeting Constantine, did your life start to feel like it had some meaning again. 

“Yeah. I know what you mean,” you answer quietly. “But how did you think this would go? You’d knock on my door, and I’d just uproot my whole life for you again?”

“Maybe?” The confusion on his handsome face is almost cute. You realize he really did think it would be that easy, and you snort, looking away to a framed Tibetan Thangka painting on the wall. This man. As ever, you’re torn between kissing him and killing him. You have to keep reminding yourself that the former option is not even on the table. 

“At least give me some credit. I coulda come in with guns blazin' but instead I brought flowers."

“You want credit?”

“Yeah. I’m practically a changed man. And I wouldn’t mind an apology from Wizard Boy either.”

"You've got to be kidding me." The pair on this man never ceases to amaze you.

"We were just having a little bit of friendly fisticuffs, but he fucked me up pretty good. That’s called unnecessary escalation.”

He would know. 

"Spare me the macho bullshit. There’s no such thing as friendly fisticuffs. You were going to hurt my boyfriend, and you absolutely deserved what he gave you. You’re lucky he got Midnite to lift it."

Only a beat later do you realize you called Constantine your boyfriend within earshot of everyone, which you never do, because you both hate labels and the word just seems too high school for what you actually are to each other–but there’s no going back now. 

“But–”

At last, at last, you are in a position where you don’t have to swallow his gaslighting. “No buts. You can behave yourself, Tex, or you can go. I mean it.” 

Maybe drawn by the sound of your raised voice, Constantine chooses that moment to intervene, appearing at the foot of the couch with a magnificent frown. 

“Well well, if it ain’t The Boy Who Lived.”

You know he’s just making yet another Harry Potter reference, but considering Constantine’s history, this nickname makes you flinch. Maybe it’s a mistake on your part, but you bristle. “Don’t call him that.”

Constantine, however, betrays nothing, just crossing his arms with that blandly judgy expression. “It’s alright, y/n. He loves childrens’ books–a man has to stick to his reading level.” You don't feel like arguing about the complexity of the later books, so you let the arrow fly.

You lift an eyebrow, side-eyeing Tex. “You do know an awful lot about Harry Potter for a grown ass man your age.”

For possibly the first time ever Tex actually looks sheepish. “Had to read something while I was in the shit.”

Tex never really told you much about his tour of duty in the Middle East. Bradford had intimated that it didn’t end well–but you weren’t exactly keen to take everything that asshole had said with any sort of seriousness. The thought of him holed up in a mud hut reading about Hogwarts kind of pulls at your heartstrings for some ridiculous reason. 

“So what you want, Wizard Boy?” demands Tex, insouciantly refusing to let go of your hand, despite you tugging on it.

“I was going to check your chakras for malevolence, but I'm having second thoughts now.”

“Sounds illegal in five states.”

Constantine snorts. “You want me to double check Midnite's handiwork or not? If there's a trace of darkness left it could spread– and you'll be fucked all over again.”

“Not the way I like, I'm guessin’.”

“Probably not. But then again, you seemed to like Desdemona at the club. You want an introduction?” Constantine has a sly look on his handsome face as he asks this. It must be the succubus you'd run off– the thought of Tex in contact with her again makes you vibrate with jealousy. It is sharp, and fierce, and utterly fucking irrational.

You should encourage Tex to find someone else.

Your heart just doesn't agree.

“I'll…leave you two to it,” you say, reluctantly standing to pull away out of Tex's grip.

Only belatedly, after you've retreated to your room, do you realize that maybe Constantine interrupted your tête a tête with Tex for his sake, rather than yours.

***

John Wick whips you all up a beautiful dinner of sauteed meat and vegetables, complimented with a nice bottle of dry red wine that you're sure did not come from Trader Joe's. You play his sous chef, chopping up veggies, and it almost feels like old times in the kitchen, although he never would have given you access to a big sharp knife before. As though you ever would have had the nerve to stab him. 

Tex was another matter.

At first you all sit down to share a semi-awkward meal, peppered with halting silences–until the second bottle of wine comes out, and then things flow more smoothly. It starts with Constantine cracking a joke at Tex's expense, which is surprisingly backed by Wick with a witty aside. Tex responds good naturedly, for once, and you just sit back and watch with a smile, a warm glow in your chest that feels too close to bliss to possibly last.

You help Wick with the dishes, drying as he washes because your dish rack is tiny. “You look tired, sweetheart,” he says after the last plate, bending down to kiss your forehead. You forget. You fucking forget that there are two other people there, one of whom is your current lover, and out of longing and pure habit you tilt your head back for the second staggeringly sweet kiss on your lips that always followed. 

Only a long beat later do you realize what you've done, with Wick's shining dark eyes looking down on you, missing nothing. You gasp like a scandalized school girl, taking a small step back. “You're right,” you agree. “I am tired. Good night, everyone.” You're such a coward you can't even lift your head to look at any of them, though you can feel their eyes upon you as you scurry away.

Once in the sanctuary of your room you collapse on the bed, clutching the coverlet in your claws for hands, so embarrassed by your slip that you could die. You know that Constantine loves you, even if he’s never outright said it, and honestly probably never will–and this is how you repay him. 

You really are a piece of work.

***

After you retreat, a silence falls over the kitchen, the three formidable men eyeing each other like wolves amidst a power struggle, trying to decide who is the weakest link and who is alpha. It’s Constantine who stands without a word, fetching his green glass bottle of Ardbeg single-malt scotch and setting it down in the middle of the table with a thunk. Then he produces three glasses–none matching–and pours out a finger for each. 

“Gentlemen.” He looks between the two assassins seated at his table, a part of him flabbergasted as to how he’d even ended up in this situation. Before he met you, if someone told him someday he would find a woman he loved more than the air he breathed, he would have laughed them out of the room. 

Not now. 

How the mighty are brought low, and pride goeth before a fall, and all that proverbial biblical bullshit that is old as time and yet somehow still applies. Despite all our advances, humans are still essentially the same animal we were when we first left the cave and started walking upright–or when God created Adam out of dirt, whichever you find more believable.  

“I believe we find ourselves at an impasse.”

“How you figure?” asks Tex, knocking back his drink and helping himself to another. 

“Does being in love with the same woman ring a bell?”

Wick smirks, watching the exchange between the two, sipping his scotch sparingly. He does not contradict Constantine’s assessment, but in his succinct way he drives home the finer point. “More importantly, that woman is in love with all of us.”

The thought pulls something like a growl from deep in Constantine’s chest, but in the end he acknowledges, “Exactly.”

Tex smirks, leaning on his elbows. “Don’t be sore, Wizard Boy. Be grateful we broke her in for you.”

Constantine seems to count to ten under his breath, restraining himself from unleashing a curse on this fucking cowboy again. “You’re gonna have to give me pointers on how you manage not to murder him daily,” he says to Wick. 

“I only listen to about half of what he says,” Wick admits with a smirk, a humorous glitter in his dark eyes.

“Good to know. My point is, if I curse you both into the Seventh Circle, it would hurt her. Likewise, if you two were to dig me a shallow grave out in the desert. You hurt her enough the first time. Do you follow?”

Wick nods, grasping Constantine’s train of thought immediately. Tex, however, has to chew on it a little–maybe because he’d hoped, for once, to finally have this girl to himself. 

“You’re saying you don’t mind sharin’,” finally says Tex with a shit-eating grin, leaning back in his chair. 

“Oh, I mind,” Constantine is sure to clarify. “But it’s up to her, if she wants you or not. If she decides she wants you to go–I will make you go. If she wants you to stay…” He spreads his big hands, as though to say, we’ll figure it out. Somehow.  

Tex narrows his eyes, clearly debating if he should pick a fight over the make you go part, or take it as it sits on the table. “And how do you propose we let her know what we decided about this?”

Constantine snorts at that, draining his glass and standing from the table. “That’s your problem, Howdy Doody. Good night–and may the best man win.” The two assassins watch as John Constantine crosses to your bedroom, and practically shuts the door in their faces. 

***

You are drifting on the edge of sleep when Constantine crawls into bed with you. You smile as you feel the familiar pattern of the depression in the mattress, and moan with surprise as he covers your mouth with his. You taste the Ardbeg on his tongue, which explains some of his ardor, but not all. The fury of his kisses on your lips and neck pulls an involuntary moan from deep in your lungs, his big hands digging into the flesh of your thigh, pulling you on top of him. 

“John…?” Utterly star-struck, you blink down at him, disheveled in your pajama t-shirt and your hair a mess. He reaches up to cup your cheek, dwarfing your face in his large hand, studying you like there will be a test later. He opens his mouth like there’s something he wants to say to you, but he can’t quite get it out, the words stuck in his throat. 

You think you know what it is, and your heart warms for it, that tingling thrill filling your chest and spreading outwards. You’re not even mad, that he can’t say it, because you get him. This is not the week you’re going to push him out of his comfort zone, more than you already have. Most of LA would laugh to hear it, but John Constantine has been a veritable fucking saint the past couple of days, and you’re so grateful to him. 

“It’s ok,” you say softly, tracing the line of his square jaw. “I know.” 

He frowns, almost like he wants to argue, but in the end he just shakes his head and pulls you to him.

You want to apologize for almost kissing John Wick right in fucking front of him–but that sticks in your throat too. You guess you’re both just a little raw tonight.

He peels off your t-shirt greedily as he guides you down. Hungry lips and a teasing tongue find the sensitive tips of your breasts, making you squirm with longing above him. You know you’ve already soaked through the laughable barrier of your panties, and are probably leaving an unsightly stain on his nice (200 dollar, he likes to tell you with a smirk) white shirt–but if the Chinese laundry down the street can get out demon blood stains, what’s a little cum?

You let out a cry of longing as he releases your nipple with a pop; the ache between your thighs is already nearly unbearable, and you can't stop yourself from grinding against his lean torso. You shut your mouth as soon as you open it, conscious of the paper thin walls and the two dangerous men on the other side of them.

“You like that, baby?” he taunts, hooking his fingers in your panties to tug them down.

“You know I do,” you pant. 

“Then let me hear you,” he invites with a wicked smirk, shifting down so that you are nearly sitting on his face. You don’t know what was said out there, but you are starting to get the idea that John Constantine is up to something. But before you can even begin to think what to do about it, he pulls you forward with an undeniable grip on your thighs, and his tongue is laving up your slit.

“Fuck.”

This exclamation is not quiet, and neither are the ones after it. You practically shake the walls with your cries when you cum on his tongue, your body rendered into a quivering mess of over-stimulated nerves. He does not grant you mercy, even when you beg him, and by the time he is done with you, you are halfway to your second orgasm.

“Do you want me baby?” he demands, panting from his champion cunnilingus league exertions as he undresses himself. There is a desperation in his tone you’ve never quite heard before, and you have a feeling he’s not just talking about sex.

“I need you,” you tell him, and you mean every word. It wins you every inch of his hard cock buried inside you, and you can’t stop yourself from moaning, as though there is no room for breath in your body when filled with his impressive manhood. He grips you hard enough to bruise, his face buried in the bend of your neck.

He drives himself inside of you, hips pumping with the fury of his need, but he’s prepared you for it. It’s all you can do just to hold on, to the bed, to him, letting him use you exactly the way he wants to, because you know the past couple of days have been anything but easy for him. 

When his thumb finds your clit you think you might die from the overwhelming sensation of it. “No,” you beg, somehow smiling through your exasperation. “Please. Mercy.”

He just pays you that impish curl of lips that always seriously makes you question which side he's playing for. “You can take it,” he informs you. “For me?” The way he pouts down at you while simultaneously rearranging your insides should be illegal.

“Fuck,” you swear again, and he grins down at you, knowing he’s got you in the bag. With your ankles around his ears he slows down for you, but still fills you to the absolute brim, working you in just the rhythm he knows you need with the tip of his too-clever thumb. There is a heart wrenching beauty in making love like this. The two of you have reached an understanding of each other's bodies, a point of familiarity in which you just know, and yet somehow each time is better than the last.

It isn't long before you cum on his cock with a ragged scream that you know there’s no way in hell the boys didn’t hear, yet you cannot stop it, you cannot care, because the man inside you has rendered you into a vessel for this mind-bending pleasure and in this moment, you belong completely to him. His hips snap against yours, and soon he follows with your greedy little cunt fluttering around him, spilling himself inside you with a loud groan.

He collapses beside you, pulling you into his arms. You revel in the sticky warmth of his seed seeping between your thighs, his heart a furious drumbeat beneath your ear. “Jesus fucking Christ,” is all you can manage to wheeze against the warmth of his chest.

“Right initials,” he pants, pressing lips to your hair. “Wrong guy.”

Thinking you really might have lost your mind, you start to cackle, and you can’t stop until you literally can’t breathe. You do not even have the energy to clean up, falling asleep in the beautiful mess John made of you, and maybe it’s just you, but even in his sleep John Constantine seems to hold you more tightly than he ever has before.

------------

😬

it's on? 😈😈😈

@sweetwolfcupcake @treedaddymcpuffpuff @tammykelly

#wicked johnson fic #constantine x reader #constantine x you #john wick #john wick x reader #keanu reeves #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves x reader #yandere john wick #tex johnson #tex johnson x you

[imajinxnation]

Hi love! Pretty sure requests are open, if not please delete this, any who can I request all the keanu reeves characters (or the ones of your choosing, but please add Constantine) and reader asking them "would you still love me if I were a worm" 😁😁😁

Worm??

Keanu Characters x Reader

SUMMARY // "Would you still love me if I was a worm?"

TW // Fluff, Cussing..

Just to let yas know, when I just say Reader, it means it's gender neutral.

ALL GIFS FOUND ON PINTEREST

John Constantine

As soon as that sentence comes out of your mouth, he freezes and stares at you. He just stares at you, brows furrowed, thoughts running through his head on what to say to that. In the end he has no idea what the fuck to say to your weird question.

"Did I hear that right? Did I REALLY just fucking hear that?" He asks, more to himself than you.

"Yes, you heard me right, now answer my question!" You reply.

John sighs before thinking about his answer carefully, not wanting to upset you over this ridiculous question.

"If you were a worm, would I still love you?.. I'd keep you in a container filled with dirt and whatever else worms need."

He answers with that before walking out of your shared apartment to get some fresh air, and to have a smoke to relax after that unreasonably stressful question.

Just take what he said as a good thing, cause that's the best answer he's gonna ever have.

Ted Theodore Logan

I feel like this dude would try to think up a whole speech about how he'd love you no matter if you were a worm, an alien, or literally anything. He'd try to think of a speech, but fail miserably, instead his mouth just spouts out some real stoner shit.

"Dude/Dudette... I am like the dirt to your worm!" He says with a bright, goofy smile.

He's smiling, but dying on the inside at the dumb shit that just came out of his mouth. He is mentally kicking himself so hard that he doesn't see your happy face that understood what he meant.

He comes out of his self embarrassment when he feels you hug him.

"Ted that is so sweet!" You say, making him feel better.

He hugs you back and kisses your forehead, glad you understood what he meant.

John Wick

Oh Jesus H Christ, give this man a break, really, he loves you, but sometimes he questions why, and this is one of these moments.

He doesn't answer your question until late at night when you're going to bed, needing the whole day to think about a perfect answer for your odd question.

"As long as it's still you, I couldn't care less if you were a worm, love knows no bounds."

And now you're crying, thank you Mr. Wick. But seriously, that's probably the best answer you could have ever gotten.

#x reader #john wick #john wick x reader #keanu reeves #john x reader #john wick imagine #john constantine x reader #constantine x reader #constantine imagine #bill and ted #ted x reader #ted theodore logan #ted logan x reader #ted theodore logan x reader #bill and ted imagine #gender neutral reader #x female reader #x gn reader #x gender neutral reader #x male reader #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves imagine

[howlsofter]

Hellfire.

You’ve been working for John Constantine for a little. He’s been too protective to let you learn anything but he wants to keep you close. Just my usual one shot smut with a little plot.

Words: 2.8k

Tags/warnings: m/f penetration, cunnilingus, drinking, smoking, a little dirty talk, choking, idk sex mostly

John Constantine hates being bothered.

But he needs a new driver.

Just temporarily.

He’d found me on one of his previous endeavors, but many already know who I am. Taught of the occult and arcane by a small circle on the streets after my parents passed, my skills are above most.

Not that I ever get to use them with John. He’s worrisome, shaking as he presses his cigarette back up to his mouth, inhaling like it was his last breathe. He is peering outside.

“John, this time please,” I beg as I round up to the building, John doesn’t even look my way, tossing his cigarette to the ground the moment he opens the car door. He rushes inside and I sigh, tapping my fingers against the steering wheel and letting my head fall back.

30 minutes or so and he’s back, staggering with another goddamn cigarette between his lips. He climbs into the car and I drive forward,

“Where to?” I ask, glancing in the mirror. He’s been crashing at mine for this stent, but he’s been talking about something West. Something I could help him with.

My life is in Brooklyn. I pursed my lips together when he told me. I agreed. He knew I would. I’ve been following John blindly these past few months, yet I don’t know if he really gives a fuck about me.

“Fuck,” he spreads out in the backseat, closing his eyes and pressing his cigarette up to his lips, “anywhere. Do you have alcohol?”

That’s code for my place, because I almost always have alcohol. He’s not a terrible house guest. He doesn’t touch my food, he crashes on the couch fully clothed, no blankets no pillows. That’s only if he’s tired, otherwise he sits and, thinks. I guess.

I pour us a glass and leave the bottle in the middle of table. John sits back and retrieves his cigarettes from his pocket, knocking out another and putting it up to his lips.

He lights it before taking a long sip of his drink. He’s sat back in his seat but leaned forward in a long folded over shape. He takes another drag as soon as he’s swallowed the liquid, huffing out and looking around my apartment.

Nothing has changed since the last time he’s been here, he realizes quick and settles back to me. I reach out, “may I?” He seems annoyed but he snatches the pack from his side pocket where he’d returned them.

I scoot my chair over closer as he grabs the lighter. He holds the cigarette up and I lean forward, taking it from his fingers between my lips. I still, following his hands as he takes another long drag, looking at me waiting for him. I raise an eyebrow and begin reaching for the lighter myself. John’s eyes dart to it and he reaches out quick, flicking his wrist to open it and swiftly sparking it up. I inhale just enough to light it before taking a real drag and sitting back.

“Any plans here, John.”

He takes another sip, “always asking me shit. No, there’s no plans. I’m waiting for someone to slip up.”

“I haven’t found anything about the soul stones,” I’ve been researching, asking around, “most people say they haven’t heard of them.”

“Then you’re asking the wrong people.” He takes a hit after every sentence, this man breathes no oxygen.

“Maybe it’s not in Brooklyn anymore?”

“West…” he mentions again, “but it’s just another gamble.” He turns his head away, like he’s tired of the conversation and finally I take another drag of mine. I can feel the nicotine buzz in my body, I only ever palm one off of John occasionally. It mixes well with a little alcohol.

John leans back up, resting his elbows on the table and taking another large sip of his drink. “Are you really coming?” He asks, suddenly so serious. He takes his last sip of his drink, putting it to rest on my tabletop, he flicks his ash into the ashtray I have specifically for him.

“I said I was.” I respond, lifting my own cup, I swirl the liquid around and take a small sip.

“You don’t have to.”

“Do you want me to?”

John puts the cigarette out, leaving it in the ash. “Only if you want to.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“You’re… useful to me. But I don’t want to uproot your life.”

“I have no other life. Do you want me to go?” I’m shifting closer as I speak, John watches me careful, like I’m about to lunge at him.

“None at all?” He almost teases me, I watch his lips form the words, he tilts his shoulders towards me, leaning in.

I’m not going to engage, he tilts his chin up, like he’s going to kiss me, but I know John’s games and I turn my head. Quickly cutting him off to take a long drag.

John wants to roll his eyes, snaking a hand past me to take the short stick from my hands. He takes an equally long drag, burning through the rest of the cigarette before casting it out with his first.

“I want you to come,” he tells me. He says it like I’m holding a gun to his head, but his body is open, pulling me in slightly. I have to tilt my head up to him.

“Then I’m there,” I almost whisper it. He bites his lip for a moment, pats his blazer for his smokes and fills the gap between us. It’s sweet, one careful kiss. I capture it, silently allowing him to continue. He has his stance open, on either side of my chair. He leans in closer, sliding his hands around my hips and pulling me to the edge. I moan against his lips, he we taste the same almost, the same brand of cigarette. He pulls away and leans back, licking my saliva off his lower lip.

“This is your obligatory one minute to reconsider.”

“Reconsider?”

“To reconsider being with me. You have 45 seconds.”

I reach out and wrap my fingers around his tie, pulling him back closer to kiss him again. He stops the count, swallowing me up hold. He pulls me over into his lap and stands, holding me up against his waist.

I’m straddled up against his cock, which poked at me through his loose slacks. He fumbled to my room, forgetting which door it is at first, setting me up on my dresser when we were there. He bites at my neck, sinking his teeth in hard enough for it to hurt. I hiss, going to shove him away. No matter there I pushed or pulled him, he didn’t budge. John secures his arm he already has around my waist, his other hand reaches into his pocket. He retrieves his smokes and sets them beside us on the dresser. He kisses where he was just attacking me, hand sinking into his pocket to retrieve his lighter. My break is short lived, he runs his nose down my neck and delves into a soft spot there. I choke and stretch away from him, knocking his lighter from his hand on accident.

I hear it bounce around on the ground with a few soft thuds then silence. John follows it with his eyes before they snap back to me. I dont know why it’s so embarrassing, I can feel my face burning and John simply moves on. He presses more pretty kisses to my neck, coaxing me again. I give in easy, wrapping my legs up around him. He moves to kissing me again, going to undo his belt. I groan, reaching out to knock his fingers away and do it myself. My shaky fingers fumble over the black leather, pulling it from the matching black belt loops. I wait to break the kiss once I’m done, blinking up at John through my lashes. He takes over, pulling it completely out and dropping his belt to the floor, he’s completely hard now. His slacks sink down his waist without his belt, his briefs waistline visible and the tip of his cock pressed against the edge, waiting.

He sits back up, running his hands along my thighs and yanking me closer to the edge of the dresser. He forces me to sit back when he undoes my jeans, looming over me and nudging my nose with his.

I push my hands flat against the wood, lifting my hips up and letting him slide them off of me. He sinks down, the flat of his hand running from my outter to my inner thigh slowly, making sure they’re well apart before he’s sliding over my panties. I grip the edge of the dresser, looking down at John for once. One hand curves around my thigh, fingers hooking my underwear and holding them to the side with his ring finger, the rest of his hand flat between my hip bones. He presses there with minimal pressure, wasting no time sliding his tongue right between my folds. He opens his mouth wide, running right from my entrance up to my vulva then a few open mouth kisses, his tongue seeking out my clit and pressing in rough circle. He has his eyes closed until he’s found a rythme, looking up at me and shifting his free hand down, palming himself through his slacks.

It feels way too good, really, I’m trying hard not to wriggle out of his hold in pleasure. I can only grind down and shake, unable to rip my eyes from him. I snake my hand into his short dark hair, pulling at it then fixing it to the side.

John’s tongue slips down, exploring my entrance as his hand finally manages to get his button off and he’s exposed himself. He stroked himself slowly, lustfully, trying to fuck me with his tongue.

I switch between his hand and his face, I’m getting closer. His mouth feels better and better each second, I begin to freeze up, focusing on the sensation. I’m almost smirking, I’ve never thought I’d have John Constantine in this position. Jacking off while I grind against his face.

He sees my smirk and he just can’t help but be an asshole. Slowing his tongue, he licks one more slow strip up me before pulling off, he practically rips my underwear off as he stands back up.

I groan, edging myself back from the dresser and cursing quietly, “getting too cocky there, Hellfire,” he warns me, brandishing my nickname he’s almost called me one before. He goes back to holding my hips, lulling me forward as he drags his cock right up against me. His saliva mixed with my pleasure coats his cock and he groans into my ear, “protection?”

“Already casted,” he nods.

He runs his hands up my hips and finally slips my top off, letting it fall with his other clothes beside us in the pile. He undoes a few of his shirt buttons quickly, pulling it off over his head when he’s had enough.

John assumes position. “Hold my shoulders,” he commands, bringing his hips back, one hand adjusting himself and the other holding my side. He presses the tip in carefully, my body rejects him. It aches, I tighten my hold around his shoulders, encircling him closer to me. “Fuck, relax,” he tells me to like it’s easy. I inhale stiff and sharp and he runs his hand around me to my back, “breathe,” he tries again, speaks slower. I do, inhaling again slowly. He’s pushing into me on my exhale, carefully, steady. We both make a noise when he’s, passed the hardest part for me. John is hungry, running his hand up to cup my breast, he sinks his hips into me further.

I lean back on one hand, supporting most of our weight, my other arm is still encased around John. I can’t go anywhere as he fills me up, pushing him away only makes him smile. He gets halfway in before he snaps up into me. His name falls past my lips, not given a moment to regain my composure before he’s fucking me. Quick and rough, his body makes a slapping sound every time we meet.

He groans over me, following the curve of my open mouth with his brown eyes. His pupils blown, he grabs at my neck, encasing his large hand around it and holding me still.

He’s gripping me just rough enough to steady me but I can still breathe. My gasps are raspy against his palm, the pain is all pleasure. I gaze at him through my eyelids, going weak against his grasp on me. I paw at him with my free hand, running the line of his collarbone and trying not to let my eyes shut.

John yanks me forward, my useless hand coming up quickly to his wrist as the rest of my body sits up in order. He speeds up his thrusts, holding me by my neck right up his face. He’s so focused in, there’s not a thought behind those dark eyes besides need.

I let my sticky forehead press against this, eyes eyes dip down, not realizing how hard he’d started choking me. He loosens his grip but only moves his hand when his hips have slowed, scooping me back up while he’s still pressed inside of me. I wrap both arms around him around, barely assisting him in the transition from my dresser to my low bed.

He gets on his knees, falling out of me as he sets me back on the bed. I fall back doll, letting my arms rest above my head as I lift my hips and stretch out. He runs his hand over himself a few times, trying to really take in his view before crawling back up to hover above me. He pushes my legs apart with one hand, still touching himself as he leans over, pressing an open mouth kiss to the soft spot of my thigh. The niceties never last long. Next he’s biting me again, holding my leg down when I immediately begin my escape.

“So pretty,” he hums, running his nose up my leg, licking my hip bone and adjusting himself to press against my entrance. It’s easier for him to slide into me in this position, he grabs my arm when I go to block my blush.

He eases slowly, shuffling to find the best position where he has at least one free hand. He runs it down my side, squeezing my hip and bringing me closer. With his thumb he presses more slow circles against my clit, I lay still and lazy, following his slow motions with my hips as encouragement.

“Am I being good?” I prompt him, my voice scratchy from him grip before. I say it quiet, unsure if he even heard me. But John most certainly did, unconsciously picking up speed.

“That’s what you want?” He snaps up in me, moving his thumb over me with a matching thrust. My hips jut out, trying to push my legs apart further. The same tingling heat building up inside of my groin.

I only kinda nod, too close to be embarrassed. I ghost over the tattoos on his forearm and grip his upper, pleading with him with my eyes. “You’re being so fucking good,” he murmurs, coaxing my orgasm with every thrust, “letting me use you.”

“John,” I whimper his name, trying to get him to keep talking and attempting to drag him closer. He’s getting closer, not daring move from where he is now he’ll spill. His arm is shaky, flexing under my grip. He is losing his breath, mouth ajar.

He sucks in quickly, “fuck, you can cum, baby,” he says it in a growl, edging himself as I spill. My body grips around him and his head falls slack against my shoulder, he bites into the skin there but I don’t even register it past the pleasure that’s hits me.

It rings out through my whole body, John slows, sloppy thrusts as he continues to use me. When I’m settling he pulls out, letting out a delicious moan and cumming. Warm spurts all over my bare stomach, I hum in delight, running my fingers to scoop some up and lick them clean.

John sits up slowly, huffing as he pushes his sweaty hair back. “Fuck, Hellfire,” he mumbles, climbing off the bed to grab his smokes and lighter. I’d knocked it off halfway beneath the dresser. He lights one up swiftly, how he’s done it a thousand times before, and grabs a random shirt off my floor. I don’t protest, it’s dirty anyways. I steal the cigarette from his lips as he wipes me clean.

#john constantine #constantine #constantine 2005 #john Constantine 2005 #constantine fanfiction #constantine fanart #john wick gif #john wick fanfiction #fanfiction #constantine x reader #john wick x reader #constantine smith #smut #john wick #keanu reeves #alternative #john wick smut #john wick fanfic #john wick x y/n

[maj-3k]

Constantine: We have to find a way to get into that mental hospital.

Y.N: I have an idea

-----

Y.N: ... So then I had sex with this five demons that I mentioned earlier. Everything was nice until Lucifer find us. I admit doing this on his throne wasn't a best idea but who would say "no". He calmed down when I sed that we can do it on Michael throne. But this is a story for another time...

Therapist:...

------

Constantine: What did you tell them?

Y.N: I just described what happened week ago.

#incorrect quotes y/n #incorrect quotes #male reader #reader #nb reader #dc x male reader #dc x reader #DC x NB reader #dc x y/n #DC x male y/n #john constantine x male reader #constantine x reader

[angelltheninth]

Can't wait for the Constantine x witch reader thing you're gonna write! I've been so into him for the past couple of days

He's a jerk and a bastard but one that you can't hate no matter how hard you try.

Pairing: John Constantine x Witch!Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, flirting, magic use, Constantine is bad at feelings

A/N: Wizards are at their best when they're absolute assholes.

It's an almost non-stop magic prank war

All in good spirits mostly but also with a bit of a competitive streak

Constantine likes to spend some time going through spell books with you, but it's never quiet for long because you are itching to try something out

He reminds you that some spells can be dangerous

But he is the last person who should forbid anyone of trying new spells, everyone knows he's gotten himself into trouble more then once

Tries not to smoke before his date with you

Will smoke in bed

Finds it endearing when you use your magic to light his cigarettes

Very much a show rather then tell type of man when it comes to his affection

Has used magic to show you how much he cares so it makes it a bit more personal

Gave you a whole room for your books and potions

#dc comics x reader #john constantine x reader #constantine x reader #dc comics imagine #john constantine imagine #constantine imagine #dc comics headcanons #john constantine headcanons #constantine headcanons #dc comics fluff #john constantine fluff #constantine fluff

[geminigengar]

constantine on the phone : what are u doin right now?

y/n : ya mum

constantine: shes dead u nit

y/n: oh i kno

y/n: used the hell portal in the washroom

y/n: got a throat like a hoover, see where u get it from

constantine: bugger off you-

y/n: motherfucker?

constantine:

#john constantine #hellblazer #john constantine x reader #constantine x reader #john constantine x male reader #hellblazer x male reader #dc imagines #incorrect quotes #this been sitting in the drafts a while lol #my own writing

[velvainee]

✦ ⎯⎯ 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.

“You know, you’re really pretty like this.”

♡ 𝑡𝚑𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑑

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[mlmxreader]

Quizzical | John Constantine x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Hi, I hope it's not too late to request John Constantine with the prompt "It must be magic, how inside your eyes, I see my destiny" of your list? ❞

: ̗̀➛ However he does it is a mystery, but John always finds a way to surprise you.

: ̗̀➛ swearing, VERY VERY mild sex references

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

Stretching out on your sofa, John made himself more than at home; his shoes were chucked aside somewhere between the fireplace and the sofa, and his coat had long been tossed to the floor somewhere he didn’t actually care to look.

His tie was completely undone, sitting open against his off-white shirt as he watched you go about picking his things up and putting them away properly; he smiled, tilting his head to the side and watching you curiously.

Of all the beings in the world that he had been with, John kept finding himself coming back to you every single time; he thought at first that maybe it was just the overnight stays, but he soon pushed that aside when he realised that it was something else.

No, you were different. Maybe it was the fact that you didn’t pry, or that you understood almost completely what it was like for him; maybe it was just the fact that you were more open and more accepting and welcoming of him than anybody else in the world.

He put his feet up, relaxing and closing his eyes as he yawned softly; a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth for just a moment too long that you noticed, smacking his ankle to grab his attention.

“Oi! If you’re gonna sit there like bloody King Shit of Dung Manner, least you could do is go and make a fuckin’ butty, would ya?”

John grinned, spreading his legs so that one slipped off of the sofa, giving you more than enough room to sit between his legs as he looked you up and down eagerly. “Now why would I do that, eh?”

You wanted to roll your eyes and to chastise him for not doing anything for you while you were expected to clean up after him, but you could only sigh as you raked a hand down your face and shrugged. “Maybe because I have to put up with Bruce Wayne every fucking day?”

“You wanted the job,” he pointed out. “If you didn’t wanna be his assistant, you wouldn’t’ve taken the job. You said so yourself that you was happy enough working as his social whatever manager.”

“Social media manager,” you huffed. “And I was! I really was! But the money is better, and the hours are… less demanding.”

“So don’t complain,” John chuckled, lying back with a smug hum. “I might be your boyfriend, but I’m not your fuckin’ job advisor.”

You paused, stunned for a moment as you looked at him quizzically; he had never used that word before, and you were almost certain that being your actual boyfriend was not something that he would have ever wanted.

He was John Constantine, for crying out loud - he didn’t do relationships. But when you didn’t answer for far too long for his comfort, he raised a brow, looking at you like he was expecting you to say something and he was hooked on every little noise you would make until you spoke.

“What?” He asked, furrowing his brows. “Cat your bleeding tongue?”

You shook your head, trying to come to your senses as you sighed and attempted to put the words completely together for once. “No, just… you never said that you were my boyfriend before… and I never thought that’s what you… what you wanted.”

John didn’t seem phased as he gestured at the room around him. “Well, what’d you call the bloke who sleeps with you nearly every night, constantly calls, and is always hanging around?”

“I… I dunno,” you whispered softly. “I guess I just never… never really thought about it because you didn’t bring it up or nothing…”

He hummed, squirming to sit upright before leaning back slightly and resting on his arm. “Well, we’re talking about it now, ain’t we?”

“Yeah, I guess,” you murmured. “Is that… is that what you want? To be my boyfriend, I mean, is that what you want?”

He nodded. “I wouldn’t’ve said it if I didn’t mean it.”

You nodded back, chewing at the inside of your lip. “So it’s settled, then… now, go make me a sandwich, yeah?”

John rolled his eyes as he moved to get off of the sofa, but he paused to quickly press a soft kiss to your lips before he moved away; you almost missed his presence when he wandered into the kitchen, but you couldn’t deny that there was something… off about the way he kissed you.

It wasn’t hungry and harsh like it usually was, and it wasn’t filled with heat and neediness like normal. It was sweet and soft, and chaste and unexpecting.

You chewed at the inside of your lip, thinking about what it could have possibly meant; of course, you knew that you would probably have to let Bruce down from now on, as he often took you with him as his plus one to events and galas and such - but now you would probably have to tell him that you couldn’t do that, as you were with John and you didn’t want him to think that you and Bruce were a couple. 

“Alright,” John announced as he sauntered back in, wiping his hands on his shirt. “I got the cheese on toast going at the moment, I’ll chuck some jam on it once it’s done.”

You hummed as you looked at him, almost shocked. “Yeah, yeah, thank you.”

“You alright?” He asked, furrowing his brows as he came to sit beside you. 

“Just thinking,” you told him softly, dismissively shaking your head. “Y’know, I’m probably gonna have to tell Bruce, I mean-”

“You’ve been going out with him to all that fancy shit for yonks and I’ve never gotten jealous before,” he pointed out. “Don’t intend to, either. Trust me, it must be magic, how inside your eyes, I see my destiny - and it must be magic if Bruce Wayne ever thinks he’s gonna get in your trousers.”

You laughed quite loudly, playfully shoving him. “You’re an ass!”

“Meh,” he slung his arm around your shoulders. “You love me.”

#mlem writes #john constantine x reader #john constantine x you #john constantine imagine #john constantine fanfiction #john constantine fanfic #john constantine fic #john constantine #constantine x reader #constantine x you #constantine x y/n #constantine imagine #constantine fanfiction #constantine fanfic #constantine fic #constantine #dc x reader #dc x you #dc x y/n #dc x yn #dc imagine #dc fanfiction #dc fanfic #dc fic #dc one shot #dc oneshot #dc

[iovesia]

RUN, RABBIT, RUN.

𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔. you've had your fun— trying to escape his clutches. now you better run and hide. because with constantine on the way, he'll make sure you won't slip away so easily again.

warnings. extremely dubious consent. blackmail. toxic relationship. p in v. degrading. size kink. dacryphilia. stalking. slight god complex. manhandling. not proof read.

pairings. mean!perv!constantine ⠀𝒙⠀crybaby!fem!reader.

josie’s note .⁺ ˖ ⌒ this is my first official constantine fic, i'm so excited to share with you guys! i tried to combine the loads of asks i got about him and the blackmail trope, so i hope you guys like it. this is my first time writing a full smut fic, so please be nice 🫂 — hope you enjoy ♡ !!

#. requests are open. ⠀masterlist.⠀keanu reeves masterlist.

Two weeks.

Two weeks since you broke up with Constantine 

Fourteen days since you cried, and shakily told him to get out. 

Three hundred, thirty six hours since you slammed the door shut in his face.

Twenty thousand, one hundred and sixty minutes since he’s been lurking around your place, unbeknownst to you. His naive, little dumb thing. Watching your every move.

The rain pattered harshly against the roof of his taxi, as he glared upwards at you through your window. Your run down apartment complex was generous enough to have a giant glass panel, to which Constantine could admire you through. He watched as you gently rubbed lotion on your hands, caressing your own soft skin.

His eyes fluttered shut, remembering how those hands felt wrapped around his co—.

“John, what are we doing here?”

Chas, Constantine’s young apprentice, sighed and rested his head against the steering wheel. Constantine resisted the urge to roll his eyes, his gaze fixated on you as he placed another cancer-stick in between his lips.

“Investigating.”

“We’re not investigating, we’re stalking your ex—”

“She’s not my ex,” Constantine snapped uncharacteristically, even Chas raised a brow. For someone as calm and collected as Constantine, seeing even an ounce of passion behind those dark eyes was a shock.

“Jeez.. sorry,” The younger boy mumbled. He shifted in his seat, leaning over to the passengers seat to catch a glimpse of what captured Constantine’s attention.

“Focus on the road,” The older man commanded, momentarily shifting his eyes to Chas, shooting daggers at his eager apprentice. Unfortunately, when Constantine looked back out the window, he watched disappointedly as you pulled your curtains closed. The silhouette of your tantalising figure left a lot to the imagination.

His hand trailing up through the valley of your breasts, while the other cups your cun—

“Let’s go,” Constantine scoffs, tossing out the butt of his cigarette onto the dirty L.A sidewalk. Chas nods wordlessly as he pulls the gear shift, the engine of the car humming to life.

⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀

This was next level insanity, even for John Constantine, who specialises in paranormal and demon-hunting. Having been stalking you for the last two weeks, he gathered a rough outline of your daily routine. When he wasn’t busy loitering Midnite’s bar, or gunning down half-breeds back to hell— he invited himself into your apartment. 

Invited is a generous euphemism for what one would call “breaking and entering”. Amidst your heated argument, two weeks ago (now, two and a half— but it’s not as if Constatine’s not keeping track..), you hurriedly pushed him out the door, leaving him with his own copy of your keys. 

If the first crime wasn’t heinous enough, snooping was slowly edging itself onto the list. Constantine traced his finger along your dresser, before carefully pulling open the first drawer, revealing your undergarments. Constantine swallowed the lump in his throat, ignoring the slow blood rush down his lower body. 

Hooking his index finger into the waistband, he lifts up a pair of undies. Oh, his favourite pair. The white panties with red waistband and a pretty red bow in the front. 

“I’m ready, I-I really want to,” you pressed your lips into a thin line, glancing upwards at Constantine. You laid back on the bed, with him straddling you as he cranes his neck to the crook of your neck. 

“Want to.. what?” He teases, coaxing the words out your mouth. "Use your words."

Embarrassment flooding your face as you close your eyes. A heat blooms in your lower regions when you feel Constantine press his thumb against your panty-covered clit. “I-I want you to.. be my f-first..” you stammer as he begins rubbing soft circles.

Granted these weren’t the original ones, as he had ruthlessly torn them off your pretty little body that night. Must’ve gotten another pair, he thinks to himself as he slowly slides them into his jacket pocket.

The demon-hunter turns his attention over to your bed; dishevelled as ever, with half the blanket on the floor. You were never very organised and Constantine often chastised you for it.

“It’s like a damn tornado blew in here,” Constantine grimaces at the state of your room. Not that he particularly cared— his place looked considerably worse, but he just could never seem to stop those cruel taunts from slipping past his lips.

“Sorry,” you murmur, shame evident in your voice. 

Constantine smirks to himself as he glances down at his magnum opus. His first trick up his sleeve.

You were always the photographer in the relationship, but it's time you were the muse.

⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀

“Oh, son of a bitch!” You rattle your keys in the keyhole, internally cursing at the landlord for never considering a renovation for this decrepit apartment complex. The rusty door squeaked open, allowing you to rush in and dump the bag of groceries onto your kitchen counter. 

Since you’ve last seen your ex-boyfriend, you’ve practically eaten (or thrown in a fit of rage) all the food in your apartment in a state of heartbreak and depression. The empty silence was deafening, as you were normally used to the sound of Constantine cleaning his guns or pouring you two a glass of whiskey.

The floor creaked as you walked through your unlit hallway to your room. Along with rusty doors came the lack of electricity. Constantine always pushed for you to move into his place, as he was getting sick of coming over to this “dump”— but clearly that wasn’t a plan for you anymore. 

You enter your dreary bedroom, ignoring the sudden prickling sensation spreading across the back of her neck, as if something was watching her. 

“Jesus, it’s so dark..” you continue muttering to yourself, vehemently pressing on and off on your lights. The lights finally flicker on, revealing the horror splashed across the room.

Your heart drops.

Hundreds of polaroids lying on your bed, and the floor. Most of them— if not all of them are of you, in very compromising positions. You rush towards your bed, tears pricking your eyes and fear washing over you as you pick up a random polaroid with faint scribbling on the back. Upclose, it was a photograph of you splayed on the bed, your breasts covered in hickeys and stomach covered in cum. You see a familiar tattooed forearm in the photograph, his fingers plunged deep into your cunt. Looking at the bottom of the polaroid, you’re able to make out the poor penmanship. 

“For.. my.. bunny,” you whisper aloud.

“Took you long enough.”

A sultry voice interrupts your thoughts. You whip your body around, and gasp at the sight of him in the corner of your room. Constantine’s hand reaches for the door handle, slamming it shut and curtly locking it.

You were now trapped in the lion's den— and he was starving.

“You’re sick,” you spit at him, tossing the polaroid at him. Your chest tightened and your breath shaking as you tried to put distance between you and the devil incarnate. The tall, brooding, man edged closer to you. “W-What is this? W-Where?.. When?”

“I have plenty more, so I wouldn’t worry your empty little head of yours about how I got them,” Constantine quirks a brow, a shit eating grin etching on his lips. Your lower lip wobbled, and the familiar sting in your throat bloomed. 

“You’re s-sick!” You stammer, overwhelmed with this betrayal. Even from the start you weren’t a fan of Constantine’s obsession with using a camera during sex. But, with his smooth tongue, and honeyed words, you were too fucked out your mind to even care when he pulled out a camera from the nightstand.

“I want you out! Now!” Your fists push against his chest, barely even knocking him back. His eyes narrowed into slits, letting out a small scoff. Suddenly, he reaches for your forearm, spinning you around till your back connected with his chest. Letting out a cry, you thrashed fruitlessly in his grip. 

“Now, now. Play nice,” he shuffles through his jacket pocket and retrieves a small camcorder camera. Out of breath, you remain in his firm grasp, your nails digging into his arm. Constantine flips open the side of the camera, and the screen freezes for a second before loading. Even with the poor pixelated quality, you recognized it immediately. You swallow  a lump in your throat as he presses play.

“Oh— Oh, god, John. Mhmm.. y-you feel so good.” 

The distorted audio echoed through the room, and you felt your ears burning. Shutting your eyes, you turn your head away from the video. 

“No, no, no, you don’t. This is the best part,” he nudges the back of your shoulder, and reluctantly you glance back at the camera. 

“Please, please, please, let me cum. Oh fuck!”

“Turn this off!” You shout, feeling as though you were going to implode with humiliation. Constantine, on the other hand, couldn’t get enough of this. He watched intently at the twitch of your brows, the wobble of your lower lip, and the hot tears brimming your waterline.

⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀

Constantine finally released you and your body met the soft comforter of the bed. Before you could try to scramble away, a weight was pressed down on you as Constantine straddled you. With one knee planted in between your thighs, a hand wrapped around your wrists, pinning you down.

“Oh God, John— let me go!” you wail.

“I am your God.”

His knee shuffles closer to your clothed cunt, applying enough pressure to make you throb. You hated the pain he inflicted on your heart, but craved the pleasure he inflicted on your body. You clenched your fists, aching to have something to hold onto. 

“You stupid, little thing,” he huffs, as his hand reaches for your jeans, unbuttoning them. Instinctively, you feel a wet patch in your panties, and the pulsing in your cunt. “You barely even tried to run, it’s almost as if you wanted me to get you back.”

You shake your head, goosebumps appearing on your skin as he pulls your pants down your legs, revealing your thighs. Covered in purple love bites, your face flushes with embarrassment. Constantine pushes your panties to the side, exposing your glistening cunt. Your breath hitches as he spreads your pussy lips with two fingers. He leaned closer, a glob of spit hitting your clit, making you arch your back. 

“My bratty girl, you like making a fuss, don’t you?” He coos, his thumb rubbing painfully slow circles on your hard bud. His grip loosens on your wrist and attaches itself to your neck. You press your nails into his wrist, leaving crescent moon shaped marks as you try to suppress the bubbling moans in your throat— not wanting to give him the satisfaction. “Look at that.. just a little attention from me, and the brat shuts up,” he snides.

You feel two fingers plunge into your hole, and a desperate mewl escapes your lips. You don’t miss the way Constantine’s eyes light up, and his grip tightening on your throat. “You’ve been a bad, fucking, girl, baby.” 

Your eyelids flutter as you try to keep them open, the overwhelming pleasure triumphs over the absurdity of the situation. “Think you should be punished? Maybe, I should show our little movies to your friends?”

Your head shoots up, but he quickly pushes you back down. “N-No, please— John, don’t.” Incessant pleas fall from your puffy lips. You start to squirm, moving your hips in momentum with his fingers, chasing for relief.

“Uh, uh, uh—” he tuts, stopping all motion and earning a choked sob from you. “Bad girls don’t get to cum. Now, what’d you say? I’ll make a couple copies… send them out—”

“John, p-please, I’m begging you. D-Don’t.”

His fingers retreat from your pussy, your hole empty and begging to be touched. The edging was torturous— as if your entire lower regions were aching. The shuffling of his belt buckle hits your ears as you close your eyes, letting the stray tears fall down your face. 

His hands were now harsh on your waist, as he positioned his flushed cock to your hole before slowly thrusting inside. A sinful moan escapes your throat, and your legs naturally wrapped around him, pulling him deeper inside. The sound of skin slapping fills the room in combination to your weak mewls, and his low groans. 

Constantine’s face now inches from yours and you could feel his hot breath on your cheek. You wrap your hand around his bicep, hiding your sweaty face and glassy eyes. Your fluttering walls haven’t gotten re-used to his large size quite yet. “I hate when y-you’re so mean to me,” you sob pathetically, with a heavy heart.

“I know, baby, I know,” he purrs, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, and tasting your salty tears. “But, she doesn’t.” 

Your walls clench tighter around his cock at his words. Constantine’s low groans vibrating in your ear, you felt the knot in your core tighten.

“You pull this shit again, and I’m sending it to every goddamn person in Los Angeles. You got that, bunny?” He whispers venomously, pressing his face into the crook of your neck.

You reply with a weak nod, as he slows down his thrusts. 

“Say you love me,” he demands. Constantine’s fingers dig painfully into your cheeks as he forces you to look at him. Your vision blurry from all the tears, you could barely make out his silhouette.

“I-I—” you were interrupted by a particularly hard thrust. “I l-love you, John..”

“And?”

He begins to pick up the pace once again, his balls slapping harshly against the curve of your ass. Your puffy cunt was begging for release.

“I need you. I need you so badly, John,” you give in. You tell him what he wants to hear— what he knows. You do love him. Even with his vicious tongue, and cruel touch, you’ve never loved anyone more than him.

“There’s my girl,” he presses his lips to yours, swallowing your moans.

One day, just maybe, he’ll need you just as much as you need him.

﹙ ♡ ﹚─ taglist: @desoolate @ruskaroma @vezuiv @hypnoticvamp @sughcashsaiki @slutforsoldierboy @jaga2137 @br-2408 . . !

let me know if anyone wishes to be added ∗ ୧ ‧ ₊ ˚

#dark.josie #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves x reader #john constantine x reader #john constantine imagine #constantine x reader #tw dubcon

[97keanu]

figure skating for the first time x keanuverse ? ⛸️🤍🎄❄️

*˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ohohoho this is perfect !!!! Thank you for asking, I've had this on my mind for a bit now! (And I may also be writing a fuller fic for such a thing with reader x young!JW :3c) John Constantine, Kevin Lomax, and Neo undercut! Pure fluff!

❄️.*ㅤ Since he's on my mind, older John would love going ice skating with you! He's probably done it at least once himself, and if not, with as skilled as he is as working his body through the movies, I think he would manage just fine! I also have a head canon that when he grew up with The Director, they didn't seperate teaching ballet by gender of who was there (no "just girls learn ballet, boys learn how to kill" deal.) So, I like to think of John Wick as someone who can do all he does because he also has a rigorous background in learning ballet, having those precise body movements, knowing how to work every muscle in his body to his advantage.

Therefore, I would like to imagine that John takes you to the nearest rink (or perhaps a lake he knows that's more private?) And actually helps to teach you how to skate better (or how to at all if you don't know how!). He would be patient, watching you and only stepping in when you need it, his arms wrapping around your waist or steadying your elbow.

Eventually, you're doing it on your own, and John is there watching you, a smile creeping on his face from being able to teach you something so intimate to him. He actually has to be the one to stop you once the night starts setting in, the temperature getting way too cold to stay out in much longer.

He takes you back to his mustang and already has a fuzzy blanket there to wrap you in. You in the night back at his apartment, drinking a late night coffee and John listening to you giggle about how much fun you had with a warm heart.

❄️.*ㅤTed Logan however, lives in sunny California, so they don't see snow or ice often enough for ice skating to be a regular ordeal. He is your skater boyfriend however, so when you do end up finding a indoor rink to take him too, he thinks he will be pretty good at it from the get go. And he isn't horrible, he knows how to balance well and tries to stay up right, but it's actually so different from riding his skateboard or even rollerskates that it takes him a moment or two to get really good at it. Once he has it down though, he's skating around, pulling you by your hands until you two are laughing and doing goofy circles around the rink. Eventually, his himbo-ness gets the best of him, and as he's admiring how pretty your hair looks under the ice rink lights, he slips, bringing you down with him. He takes the harder of the fall, you fall on top of him with rosy cheeks and a smile already forming from how silly your boyfriend can be. You two end up laying there and laughing in the middle of the rink for way too long, maybe even annoying a few other skaters, but you two couldn't care if you tried. The night ends with the two of you warming up at a nearby cafe with hot cocoa and plans to try it again sometime.

❄️.*ㅤJohn Constantine would flat out refuse to go ice skating with you. Your big doe eyes would plead with him, but that's not going to change his mind. You tell him how much you enjoyed going as a child, how you love to ice skate, but you're not going to find a Los Angeles city boy like him on an ice rink anytime soon. Or, are you?

Maybe after his refusal, he takes on a demon hunting case that just so happens to lead him to a hockey rink. When the chase leads you two there, you don't see John stop to think about what he's doing as he tries to run out onto the ice. You go after him, your sneakers sliding and skidding on the slippery surface, but your years of practice skating have you able to keep your balance. To your dismay, ahead of you, Constantine is not someone who's trained in such things, and for the first time ever(and probably the last), you see Constantine fall flat on his ass. You easily skid by, reaching out a hand to help him up, and he can't deny grumbling a 'thank you". By the time you're ready to resume chase, the demon is gone.

"See? If we had just gone skating last Saturday, maybe you would have been prepared for this type of thing!" You know you shouldn't rub it in, but you can't help pointing out the truth.

"Yeah, yeah," Constantine carefully finds his way to the rinks edge, and gets out onto non-slippery flooring. "Okay, Maybe I'll take you next time..."

You squeal with joy and the two of you end the night with you having a hot tea in his apartment and Constantine taking a whiskey and nursing his bruised backside.

❄️.*ㅤKevin Lomax is not one for ice skating. Our good southern boy hasn't even roller skated a day in his life, and he's not about to trade his cowboy boots for a pair of blades.

"Please, Kevin! I really want to go skating!" You pester him, and eventually he caves, lucky that New York gets more snow than Florida.

He wraps you, and himself, up tight in winter clothes, and bites back complaints about how cold it is. He takes you to a local spot that he's heard of, and only a few other couples are out at the rink. Good, less people to have to see him fall on his ass when this goes awry.

He still has to maintain the confidence of a business man, so he keeps his lawyer smile on and helps you into your skates. At first, he let's you go ahead and skate without him, watching you perform moves he is actually pretty entranced with. When you pull your leg up over your head, he actually gives a holler out of support("Yeah that's my wife/girlfriend!").

Eventually, when everyone else has left, you persuade him into trying on a pair of skates, and to your surprise, he does. You gently take him out onto the ice, and for a few moments he's actually doing it! You let go gently, and he glides by himself, able to get down the simple movements, but nothing too crazy. In the end, you two do slow circles in the middle of the rink, face to face with each other. Kevin looks deeply in your eyes, and you're happy he's obliged your silly request. He leans in for a kiss, and you feel your legs shake on your skates. To your surprise, you're the one who's lost your balance first, and Kevin catches you with a laugh.

"Too much for you, darlin'?" He whispers with that husky southern voice, and the redness in your cheeks isn't just from the cold anymore.

The two of you end the night at a fancy dinner spot, something expensive, decorated in holiday spirit and the sound of a live pianist and violinist playing soft Christmas tunes.

❄️.*ㅤNeo lives in Chicago, so he's no stranger to the cold or navigating ice. I believe he likely has gone ice skating before, probably as a child, but hasn't done that in many years. When you ask him, he's apprehensive, but it doesn't take much begging for him to agree.

He takes you to a spot that's supposed to be the best experience, and only after you two have bought your tickets do you realize it's PACKED. There's way too many people here for Neo's comfort, or yours for that matter, and after about an hour of trying to find your way onto the ice where you two can have some alone time, you see it's not going to happen tonight and give up.

Neo makes it up to you by taking you to your favorite dinner spot. It's an enjoyable date night still, but he can tell how badly you wanted to go and can see the disappointment that you couldn't.

So, after about a week, he tells you that he's taking you out for a surprise.

When you arrive to this mystery destination, you realize it's the same ice rink. You ask him why, knowing it's another Saturday and it will be packed just like before, but Neo motions to the lack of people in the parking lot.

"What...?" You say as you begin to piece things together. "How did you...?"

"We have the whole place to ourselves. I took out every ticket just for us." He says slyly, obviously proud of this feat.

"What do you mean? That has to be crazy expensive!" You know Neo is well enough off, but that sorta price is excessive even for him.

"Well, their website for buying tickets was particually hard to hack..." He looks over at you with a smirk and smiles big when you throw your hands around his neck, gleeful for his talent tonight.

"No! You didn't! Neo..." You say into his neck giving him a big squeeze. "Thank you..."

The two of you head inside and are treated like unknown celebrities, putting on an air of being such, and trying to remain lowkey. You both have fun pretending to be people you're not, and Neo skates alongside you easily, even taking the risk of dipping you back and twirling you a few times. You're surprised your typical home dwelling boyfriend could be so suave and savvy, but you enjoy it nonetheless. You get hot drinks at a concession stand, and eat pretzels and Chicago style hotdogs to your content.

#i hope you enjoy these takes! all your boyfriends are willing to do a winter time activity with you due to feeling the holiday spirit! #except constantine...but you know how he is lol #john wick x reader #john constantine x reader #constantine x reader #neo x reader #ted logan x reader #kevin lomax x reader #lila speaks #ask lila #my writing #••• �� ʸᵒᵘ’ᵛᵉ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵐᵃⁱˡ! #keanuverse

[johnwickb1tsch]

The Girl Next Door ~ Part 1

A Constantine x Reader fic based on this imagine.

Summary: John Constantine has a crush on you. He wasn’t going to do anything about it though, until you strong arm him into coming over for dinner. Little do you know, this paints a target on your back for the local vampire coven… (I had to write something sweet for my mental health y'all 😆) Rating: Explicit, NSFW, but no dead doves...😮

You are the very archetype of The Girl Next Door. Well, literally. John Constantine lives in 202, and you in 204. You share a wall, and occasionally, he sort of smiles at you when you meet in the hall.

Like tonight, as your arms are full of groceries, returning home after work. You don’t know what he does exactly, but you assume it’s the same for him, though he is only clutching a brown bag that very poorly disguises a bottle of scotch.

“Hi, John,” you say brightly over a proud sprig of celery sticking out of your bag. It’s almost a running joke between the two of you, your sunny brightness aimed at him like a weapon.

There’s a long pause, like always, before he finally answers reluctantly in his deep monotone, “Hi, y/n. Bye, y/n.”

Before you can engage him any further he disappears into his apartment, closing the door hard behind him, the slam in the air like an exclamation point. You stare for a moment at the space where he’d just been, tall, handsome, his suit rumpled, that tie half undone around his neck. He looked like he’d had a rough day, whatever he does.

He dresses like a professional something, but imagining that man as a door to door salesman with his attitude is laughable, and so is the thought of him working amicably in an office setting.

You go inside and put away your groceries, then spread out what you need to make dinner. It’s Friday night, and you’ve had a long week too. You are making comfort food—it’s kind of a shame to eat it alone.

Half an hour later, while the sauce simmers, you find you just can’t stop thinking about that man next door. He seems lonely, every time you see him. There is something about him that just makes you want to wrap him up in a hug.

He’d probably push you off if you tried, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t need a hug.

The thing is…you have this thing. He pretends like you annoy him, but sometimes in the hall, or down in the lobby when you’re collecting your mail, you catch him looking at you when he thinks you’re not looking. And the look on his face is never exactly lecherous, like you’re used to with most men who eye-fuck you on the street. His look is more…just…lost, and it tugs at your heartstrings.

You’re sure he’ll say no, but your feet seem to carry you of their own accord, when you find yourself at his door, knocking loudly.

Some time passes and you hear him grumbling on the other side before he jerks open the portal just a crack. “Yeah?”

“I’m making my Nonna’s meatballs and marinara for dinner.”

“Good for you?”

“From scratch.”

“Sounds time consuming.”

“Want to join me?”

There is a very long pause, in which he just looks at you. You can tell he’s at least one drink in already; you smell the fumes on his breath. And maybe it’s stupid, and you’re asking for trouble you don’t need, but the thought that that will be this man’s only dinner squeezes your heart.

Finally, he answers with a question. “Why?”

“Why not?”

This, amusingly, seems to actually flummox him, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. In the end he narrows his eyes at you, (those lovely brown eyes, you can’t help but notice), like you’re trying to trick him into something truly heinous.

It’s…kind of funny, truth be told, and you can’t stop yourself from grinning. “Come on. I know you can smell it.” Your door is wide open.

“Maybe I don’t like Italian food.”

“Everyone likes Italian food.”

“Maybe you’re a terrible cook.”

“Only one way to find out.”

He actually growls a little, which for some reason gives you a thrill to the base of your spine.  

You really need to get back to stir the sauce. You didn’t anticipate getting this far in the conversation (argument?) with him, honestly.

“Well, door’s open,” you tell him, turning to go. You throw one last little come-hither look over your shoulder, to find he is definitely staring at your ass. Or, glaring, more like.

Maybe you have a screw loose, but you find this adorable.

You go back to your sauce, and lose yourself in the preparation of the other ingredients, watching the pasta to make sure it doesn’t boil over, checking that the meatballs aren’t burning. (Your oven is a dinosaur from the 1970s, and sometimes the temp spikes for no reason).

You are about to drain the pasta, when you find a tall, rumpled man standing beside your rickety thrift store table, looking a bit confused as to how he’d ended up there. He looks so big in your shoebox of an apartment, and if you’re being honest, maybe there’s a little bit of lust tied up with your desire to mother this man.

You offer him a welcoming smile, and for a moment, you swear he looks like he’s drowning.

“Glad you could make it,” you say somewhat teasingly.

“Can I…help?” He says the last word like it’s a completely alien thing to him.

“I’ve pretty much got it under control…” you say, which is mostly true. You peruse the sparse offerings of your 3 slot wine rack, picking a $6 bottle of Chilean red blend. “Want to open this?” The face he makes looking down at the decidedly weaker-than-whiskey beverage is almost comical, but he takes the corkscrew from you as you transfer the meal to serving bowls and put glasses of water on the table.

He removes his suit jacket at the table, rolling his sleeves up over muscular forearms that are, if you’re being honest, totally distracting. After you sit down you fill your plates, and the first few minutes of the meal goes by in semi-awkward silence.

Surprisingly, it’s John who speaks first. “This is really good,” he admits begrudgingly, and you utterly fail to damper your I-told-you-so smile.

“Thanks.”

You make halting small talk. You get the feeling he doesn’t chat much with anyone, of his own free will. When you ask him how his week was, his simple answer is, “Hell.”

You have no idea he’s being literal.

You ask him what he does, and he tells you he’s a sort of private detective, and he can’t really talk about it. He asks what you do, more to get the conversation off of him than anything. You let it go, for now, telling him that you’re a receptionist at an office building for a mega corporation downtown.

“Fitting,” he grumbles, you think because of your innate cheerfulness.

You feel the urge to tell him that half the time it’s just a thing you wear like armor—but you don’t know each other that well yet.

As you loosen up a little with food and more wine, he slowly asks more questions about you, where you’re from, what do you do in your free time, and maybe it’s stupid, but you feel like he’s actually kind of interested in your answers.

You enlist him to help you with the dishes, and as you stand together at the sink you bump him playfully with your hip. He peers down at you, his dark hair in his eyes. He is so tall, and there is a hint of a smile on his lips now. For him, it’s like a full-on toothy grin, and it doesn’t fail to quicken your heart in your chest.

Constantine can’t help but feel…puzzled, by you. Yes, you’re his cute neighbor, who teasingly likes to hail him in the hallway. And maybe he does look forward to the way your eyes sparkle, when he begrudgingly acknowledges you before retreating to the safety of the quiet solitude of his apartment. But you are so…nice. He can just tell, and he has no idea what a girl like you might want with a degenerate demon hunter like him. There are enough assholes in L.A. who would be happy to take you out. Why would you waste your time chasing him down?

And there is that smaller nagging voice in the back of his head. You are damned, and you don’t deserve her.

Fuck if it doesn’t make him want to touch you even more.

Later, he will look back on this as a moment of weakness. You, looking up at him with your big eyes, like you're old friends. You made him feel, for a fleeting moment, like he wasn't some doomed asshole with nothing to live for. Like he was an actual person. A man who could matter, to someone. Maybe even to you.

When you splash him with a flick of dishwater after he insults your favorite TV show he narrows his eyes down at you, and you get the fluttery feeling that he might like to eat you a moment before he cups your cheek in his big hand and catches your lips in a kiss. It’s everything you’d hoped for, even if you never actually expected it to really happen. Maybe the wine helped? Or maybe…he likes you? Luckily you get over your surprise, standing on tiptoe to meet him, looping your arms around his neck.

You yip with surprise when suddenly he lifts you to sit on the sink, pulling you close as the kiss deepens. “Was getting a crick in my neck…”

Your answering laugh is shaky at best. “Sorry.”

“Is this why you invited me over?”

“Sort of?”

He lifts an eyebrow at that, waiting for further explanation. You reach up to toy with his collar, tracing the line of his loosened tie, totally distracted by the shape of his collarbone and what’s bared of his neck. This man has a jawline that looks like it was sculpted from stone. There’s no shortage of beautiful people in L.A., of course, but you’ve never met anyone quite like him. He doesn’t seem vain, an oddity in this town, but underneath his rumpled suit this man definitely has the physique of a movie star. You try not to dwell on how odd it is, that he would choose to spend his Friday night with you.

“I mean, I’m definitely not complaining,” you offer with a sly little smile.

However, his answering expression is nothing less than stern.

“I’m warning you now, sweetheart. I’m not boyfriend material, and I’m not going to be your project.”

Even if both of those things may have crossed your mind, your thoughts are too hazy with lust from his lips on yours. Maybe he’s a grouch…but he’s a great kisser.

“Okay.”

“Good.”

He kisses you again, and you melt even more under his exacting touch. Those mitts for hands make you feel small, and you arch against him as they travel the ladder of your ribcage to your spine.

The wine was good, but you know you are mostly drunk on him.

Then he is lifting you again, like you weigh nothing, carrying you to the couch. You settle down into the worn vintage cushions and make-out like teenagers, all lips and teeth and pawing hands.

You’re the one who actually initiates something further, pulling off your shirt, and John blinks as he takes in the swathes of your bare skin. He glares at your lacy bra like it owes him money, and you can’t help but laugh breathily. You haven’t felt thishappy in a long time, truth be told.

“Something funny?” he asks, nipping at your neck. With a flick of his fingers your bra falls away, and your breasts are in his hands, and you forget how to speak intelligibly. With his lips on your nipples you manage to loosen his tie without strangling him, unbuttoning his shirt with an increasing desperation. You sigh when at last the bare skin of your torsos is pressed together, his weight pressing you down into the couch.

It occurs to you, how small your couch is, and this man is definitely over six feet tall. “Would you prefer…the bed?” you ask between kisses.

“Up to you.”

You nod, but find you can’t really stop kissing him long enough to move. You can feel the impressive length of him through his pants and yours, aligned with your center and you dry grind, thinking even that is wonderful. He, however, lets out a frustrated growl, and pulls you to your feet again.

Dizzy with desire, you lead him by the hand to your bedroom, and you make it there eventually between kisses and shedding the rest of your clothing. His thick fingers between your legs are a marvel. “So fucking wet for me,” he groans, and it’s too embarrassing to admit, but sometimes after seeing him in the hallway you’ve fantasized about something like this going down, and it always leaves you soaked.

“I…like you,” you admit, moaning as a second finger finds its way inside you, his thumb circling your clit.

“I still don’t get that,” he admits, but kisses you hard before you really have a chance to answer. It would be a little too crazy, to tell him right now that you’ve always just felt pulled towards him, like the Universe was giving you a nudge any time you saw him. He’d laugh at you, or he’d leave, and either of those at this point would be unbearable.

You are close already under his masterful touch, and you whine even as you flex your hips, all your muscles tightening in anticipation.

“Don’t make me cum yet,” you beg. “I want you.”

He groans in response to that, desperately pawing through the pockets of his pants on the floor for a condom. You watch with stars in your eyes, propped on your elbows as he rips open the packet and rolls it on that impressive length, your lip between your teeth. You feel empty while looking at him like this, longing to be filled to the brim.

There is a moment of raw eye contact between you that sears your soul, as he pulls you to the edge of the bed with those large hands on your thighs. For a fleeting second he looks almost vulnerable. It’s there and gone like a ripple in a pool, then his thick tip is at your entrance, and he is slowly pushing himself inside you.

It’s better than you ever dreamed, and you arch against him, moaning as he works inside.

“Fuck you are tight,” he pants in your ear, your walls clenching around him, seeming to fight him even as they crave the relief of his big cock stretching you out. You breathe deeply, easing him in. When at last he bottoms out inside you, your head rocks back behind your shoulders, blissed out.

“God, you feel good.”

This man actually snorts at the comment, though his voice is pure gravel, rough with need. “He wouldn't appreciate you saying it about me.”

Your laugh is half moan. 

“What, are you on a first name basis?”

“Yeah, sort of.”

You're not sure what to make of that, and you're too cock drunk to even begin to reason it out.

He can tell you're a nice girl. Or at least, that's his perception of you. So he doesn’t bend you at impossible angles or whisper filthy things in your ear. Really, there's no time for it. Just pure vanilla missionary in your sweet little snatch is more than enough to slake his need tonight. He fucks you on your back, his thumb on your clit as he glides in and out of your tight little pussy, your legs wrapped around his narrow hips.

Your pleasure builds in the cradle of your hips, wound so tight you feel like you'll either die, or fly. Usually...alright, it's never like this for you the first time with someone. There's always fumbling, and awkwardness, and half the time, if you're honest, a faked orgasm because you're too shy or too embarrassed to ask for what you really need from a new partner, afraid he’ll think you’re too much trouble. 

Well, that is not what is happening tonight. Tonight, John is taking care of you, and you can hardly believe your luck. 

“You gonna cum for me, baby?”

“Yeah.” Your reply is breathy, and you almost laugh just for the pure, unexpected joy you feel in that moment. “Oh, John...” Your ability to say real words escapes you as your body erupts with scintillating pleasure spreading through your loins. You actually scream, and the fierce clench of your cunt around him brings him too. He loses himself with a groan, his face buried in the curve of your shoulder as he shudders against you.

Afterwards, you are laying against his broad chest, his heartbeat a steady drum in your ear. You don't know it, but this is not something John Constantine usually does. Snuggling. But you are sweet and soft in his arms, and he can't quite bring himself to vacate the premises just yet. In fact, he's so comfortable that he dozes, and you follow close behind him.

In the middle of the night you wake to kisses on your neck and caresses down your curvy side. You sigh, arching into him. You feel his manhood at the seam of your buttocks, his thick head kissing your hole.

“Fuck. Sorry,” he whispers with a shuddering sigh, rolling over to reach for his pants again. How many condoms did he bring? The fact that he's not careless with you, even in the sleepy haze of the early morning second round, is incredibly endearing to you. How many times have you had to insist, and been made to feel like an uncool bitch for not wanting to risk pregnancy or disease in the heat of the moment?

Maybe it's utterly insane, but you're half in love already as he hauls you on top of him, his cock freshly capped with a new Trojan Magnum.

You are still drenched from earlier, and it's no problem to impale yourself upon him.

In the blue dark of early morning your eyes meet his, and again you sense that fleeting vulnerability before he distracts you with that clever fucking thumb finding your sensitive bud. He works you just right as you ride his beautiful dick with your back arched taut as a bow, his other hand toying with your nipple. It makes you cum in record time, so quickly it's almost embarrassing, though he doesn’t seem to mind. Within a minute he's followed along with you, his big hands digging into your hips hard enough to bruise as he reaches his own release. Your name on his lips raises gooseflesh all over your body, as though your lovemaking has invoked something powerful, something binding.

You collapse against his chest, and the both of you nearly fall asleep again, with him still inside you. 

“Let me get this thing off,” he requests gently, and with a plaintive little groan you roll off of him, curling in at his side. He knots the condom before throwing it in the general direction of the bin. You are both too tired to care if it actually hit home. 

Again, you snuggle close and the two of you doze tangled together until morning light streams through the window. 

You wake to kisses on your forehead this time. It's a miracle you rouse. You're a heavy sleeper—and he worked you out. 

“I have to go, honey.” 

“Want breakfast?” you murmur, half asleep.

“Yeah, but I can’t. Rain check?”

“Okay.”

Through half lidded eyes you watch as he gets dressed, half way, at least. A good portion of his clothes are still strewn around the living room.

My god, what a beautiful specimen of manhood you bagged last night. Nonna would be proud. She was an appreciator of male beauty, and if you told her that her special recipe had gotten you the best sex of your life with the handsome boy next door she would have cackled with delight.

“See you soon?” you dare ask as he buttons his pants. 

“Yeah,” he agrees, after a pause, bending down to kiss you one more time, with tongue this round. 

“Careful mister, or you'll start round three.”

“Jesus, woman,” he teases with that heartbreaking almost-smile. “You've drained me dry.” 

You look him over appraisingly.

“Doubt it.” 

He huffs with laughter, shaking his head. 

“Bye, y/n.”

You sigh. 

“Bye, John.”

With a surprisingly heavy heart, you watch the best lay of your life slip out the door. You really hope you'll get to do this again, and not just go back to awkward acknowledgements in the hallway.

***

Maybe John Constantine had told you he’s not boyfriend material.

But earlier that day, while he was having a smoke out on the sidewalk, he found himself looking over at the wares of a flower vendor and wondering if you would like them. He didn’t buy any, of course.

He wasn’t a total sap.

But it’s possible as he scales the stairs to his apartment, there’s a lightness in his heart as he thinks of you, and the possibility of seeing you in the hallway.

That's when he finds your door ajar, and your apartment ransacked, and a note in red ink on the table addressed to him.

If you want to see your girlfriend alive again, come to this address.

It’s a place in L.A. that’s deep in vampire territory, and something black and heavy weighs like a stone in the pit of John’s stomach. He’d deported a few big players of the local coven not too long ago, and he’d figured the Master would want revenge, but this?

Fucking diabolical—and just their style.

Goddamn vampires.

Without a moment to lose, he goes to his apartment to get his kit, praying he’s not too late to save you.  

#constantine 2005 #constantine #constantine x you #constantine x reader #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x you #john constantine #constantine x y/n #constantine fic #constantine imagine #constantine fanfic #the girl next door constantine x reader fic

[imajinxnation]

The Wisdom; Gone

Keanu Reeves Characters x Reader

SUMMARY // Keanu characters react to you getting your wisdom teeth taken out.

TW // What you would expect from getting teeth pulled, Fluff, Comfort.

ALL GIFS FOUND ON PINTEREST

Damn I really needed to write this because I'm my third day in and it's so hard to not be able to eat what I want😭

Sorry about Neo's, I was in a rush!!

John Wick

When I tell you this man will be there by your side the whole time, I mean THE WHOLE TIME. He is so fuckin' sweet, it's unreal. If you're nervous about getting your teeth ripped out of your mouth, he will calm you down and make sure you're ready, and if you wanna back out, he totally supports that, especially if you don't actually need them taken out.

When you're high off the anesthetic, no matter whether you act normal or emotional, he's ready. He will wait on you night and day (more than he usually does), and is very strict to what you can and cannot eat during the first few days, keeping it to soft foods and water and then slowly make your way back into your normal diet. Even when you feel fine, he's gonna baby you until at least the first week is over.

One other thing is that he is constantly in your mouth, checking to make sure no food gets stuck in the craters in your mouth.

John Constantine

This man acts so fuckin' hard, but as soon as he sees you in pain, he is there. Let's hope you're at least semi-normal after anesthetic, because he has no idea what to do if you get emotional, and will probably end up just laughing at you for being so high and out of it.

Now, when it comes to doting on you, he'll lay you on the couch and will let you relax until it's time for your medication. He won't admit it, but he is SO gentle and caring when giving you your meds.

The moment you start to feel better and can do things for yourself, he'll let you do your thing, but keep an eye out just in case he sees you getting something to eat that you probably shouldn't while healing.

Ted Theodore Logan

This sweet boy, I swear. He will help you a lot, whether it's helping you walk, help you eat and drink, give you your medicine at the right time, and he'll even help change your gauze, and that's saying something, cause I can see him being squeemish to blood.

You're gonna get all the cuddles from him. If he notices your cool pack sliding off your head, he'll gently push it back into place, and if it needs to be frozen again, he'll put it in the freezer for awhile before wrapping it back around your head and chin.

Now, food-wise, he's probably not the best cook, so expect really simple soft foods, like jello, yogurt and ice cream, or luke-warm cup noodles.

Johnny Silverhand

This rocker asshole will probably just lay you on the couch and tell you to go to sleep so he doesn't have to deal with your high self. (He won't admit it, but he fixes your cool pack during your sleep, making sure it's on your face and head properly.)

He acts like he doesn't care when you're finally able to do shit yourself, but he does. He's always checking over his shoulder at you to make sure you're not doing/eating anything you shouldn't.

If he hears you even utter the smallest groan of pain, he is there asking what's wrong. Hates to admit it, but he'd rather die than see you in pain.

Neo (Thomas Anderson)

(Ignore the caption)

This is gonna be Pre-Matrix. So, basically, Neo has no idea what to do on his own and needs you to guide him through the procedures that need to be taken to heal properly. Whatever you tell him he needs to do will be done.

That's all really, other than he thinks your puffy cheeks are adorable, but also feels bad because he knows you're in pain from it.

#x reader #john wick #john wick x reader #john wick imagine #john constantine x reader #john wick 2 #john x reader #constantine 2005 imagine #constantine x reader #constantine imagine #constantine 2005 #ted theodore logan #ted logan #ted logan x reader #ted theodore logan x reader #bill and ted #ted x reader #neo x reader #the matrix #the matrix x reader #the matrix imagine #matrix imagine #thomas anderson x reader #thomas anderson #neo anderson #neo anderson x reader #johnny silverhand #johnny silverhand x reader #cyberpunk 2077 #keanu reeves x reader

[maj-3k]

Wally: Once when Barry disappeared, I had to cross a couple of countries to find him.

Dick: At least you had a chance to find him. Try to find Batman.

Y.N: When Constantine gets lost I always have to go to all the clubs in town. Usually I finds him drunk in some alley. This happen least once a week...

Dick: Do you need to talk or something?

Y.N: No. I got used to it.

#wally west #dick grayson #john constantine #Dc #dc comics #Dc x reader #dc x male reader #incorrect quotes y/n #Incorrect quotes DC #Incorrect quotes #Reader #male reader #nb reader #dick x reader #wally x reader #constantine x reader #john constantine x male reader

[arkhamslvts]

I need John Constantine to spit on my pussy and fucking degrade me I need him so bad

-🧣

clawing at the walls

constantine is a messy eater. he eats fast & SLOPPY. he’s got one hand on your stomach and another in your pussy. he laughs when you wrap your thighs around his head because it’s too much and not enough at the same time, muttering out a “desperate little slut, yeah?” and he spits on your pussy before burying himself back into your pussy.

#. . . maras mailbox #. . . curated by mara #. . . 🧣anon #constantine x reader #john constantine smut