huge rail

(L O O K i know this is not even remotely a response to the prompt of ‘bruce wayne gets railed by huge demon dicks’ but also you are all terrible sinners and this is quite frankly a best-case scenario)

It was easy to follow the path of the ratty brown trenchcoat traveling through tuxedos and gowns.

“Wayne! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Bruce had been watching him stomp his way up the stairs, and had made no effort to meet him, standing and sipping at his champagne. “John!” he greeted, too cheerful to ever be genuine. “Glad to see you got your invitation.”

“Yes, I know I wasn’t — what?” Constantine stopped in his tracks with a frown. “What invitation?”

Your invitation,” Bruce said, gesturing to all assembled. “To the party. Which I assume you accepted, since you’re here. I knew you’d have to show up to one of them, eventually.”

“I don’t…”

The facts were these:

  • Bruce Wayne had apparently invited John Constantine to a party despite having no reason to believe it was necessary or desired.
  • ‘One of them, eventually’ suggested that he had invited John to many such parties.
  • A party was often the easiest time to find and corner Bruce Wayne, when he couldn’t go handcuffing anyone to anything with ridiculous bat-shaped handcuffs.
  • John never expected or waited for invitations to parties.
  • Bruce could not possibly have been monitoring John’s activities closely enough to know when he ought to invite him to a party.


  • Bruce Wayne had been sending John Constantine invitations to every party he had thrown in the last six years, for the express purpose of ensuring that John could never have the satisfaction of crashing a posh party uninvited.

John’s eyes narrowed. “You unbelievably petty asshole.”

The pull at the corner of Bruce’s mouth suggested that he knew that John knew what Bruce had done, and this knowledge of his knowledge pleased him inordinately. He sipped at his champagne.

“Do you know who it is that you were just flirting with?” Constantine asked, returning to his original reason for talking to the man at all.

Bruce’s eyebrow only barely moved higher than the other. “I don’t know that I would say that I was flirting, necessarily,” Bruce said.

“Oh, I know what you look like when you’re flirting,” John reminded him, and Bruce’s eyes flitted away back over the crowd. “You were flirting.” Bruce shrugged. “Did you even catch his name?”

The corners of Bruce’s mouth turned ever-so-slightly downward, a twitch in his brow that wasn’t a furrow. His champagne flute drifted away from his mouth. “I don’t think I did,” he said, and this admission of his oversight was said with the awestruck manner that most people reserved for a glimpse of the divine.

Appropriately enough.

“You’ve been flirting with the Devil,” Constantine informed him, in as blunt of terms as he could manage.

“I don’t see what that has to do with anything,” Bruce said. “I haven’t seen Talia in months.”

John huffed, grabbing Bruce by the arm and pulling him toward the railing overlooking the ballroom. “Not the metaphorical devil,” he said. “I mean Lucifer, the Fallen, Prince of Lies, the Dark Lord Satan. You have been flirting with the King of Hell.” He gestured with both arms toward the circle of besotted partygoers surrounding the man to whom Bruce had been speaking.

Bruce scoffed. The man in question looked up from the dance floor. His eyes were all the colors of a sunset, and cherubic golden curls formed a halo around his head. He saw Bruce, and he smiled.

Bruce almost smiled back. It was the beginnings of a smile, a beginning that spoke of an ignoble end, asymmetrical and soft and small.

He stopped. He turned his head away, and his face went a familiar blank shape. He glanced back toward the angelic figure out of the corner of his eye, as if to confirm the effect, before looking away again. He set his empty champagne flute down on the rail.

“That is the Devil,” he repeated for confirmation.


“King of Hell.”

“Technically retired.”


“He just sort of putters around these days,” Constantine admitted.

“He seemed nice,” said Bruce, who now seemed wary of looking toward the party.

“He does tend to.”

Bruce’s gaze drifted back toward Lucifer.

“Wayne. No.”


“You’re thinking about it. I can tell you’re thinking about it. Theology or philosophy or Stones lyrics. Stop it.”

“I just wish I’d known sooner,” Bruce said. He was watching those blonde curls intently. “I might have had some questions.”

“No. No.” John took Bruce by the shoulders. “That’s how it starts, just an innocent conversation, and then what? Look. I know we’ve had this little rivalry, you and me, over who can stick their dick in the least advisable place, but that is literally, actually Satan. You cannot fuck him. I don’t just mean you shouldn’t, I mean physically, it’s not possible. And even if you could — God knows, if anyone could find a way — it’s still literal, actual Satan we’re talking about here. There are very few things in this world I’m willing to state are absolutely and categorically bad, and one of them is fucking literal, actual Satan.”

Bruce grabbed a champagne flute off the tray of a passing waiter. “Despite what you seem to think, Mr. Constantine,” he said, “I have not yet sunk so far as to need lectures on ethics from you of all people.”

Casual reminder, for the sake of collective members discoursing, I am:

  • agender
  • feminine presenting (that is to say, misogyny gets aimed at me even though I do not identify as female)
  • asexual
  • not heteroromantic (dating a genderfluid person, have had crushes of multiple genders)
  • mentally ill 
  • neurodivergent (ADHD)
  • Jewish (and the granddaughter of Holocaust survivors)
  • a chronic illness sufferer who would be in chronic pain without medication (and who still has occasional flare-ups)

When I talk about reacting to Nazis, to ableism, to sexism, to aphobia, etc…it’s not theory for me. It’s all very, very real. The fear of antisemitism is huge to me because I have read my grandfather’s memoir about the camps, his stories of what he and my grandmother had to do to survive. The fear of health insurance in the US going off the rails is huge to me because I know what state not having my medication will leave me in–and how much it costs without insurance. Like…I’m not talking out my ass just to talk. 

I try, generally, to limit the amount of discourse I put on this blog, but when I do discourse, it’s because these things are really, really important to me and my life.


I decided to post this again since the other may not have been easy to read. (Late Christmas post) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ *Y/N’s POV* I’m vacationing with my friends in Aspen. We are supposed to meet the boys there considering they own the cabins we are sleeping in. I retired early that evening. I stirred in bed hoping to drift off in sleep again. I had no such luck and decided to go downstairs a make a cup of hit chocolate. As I walk down the steps I see the fire place sit on sending a nice warm surrounding the me from the coldness outside. The windows are huge, wooden rails align the stairs, and it’s absolutely gorgeous. I make my way across the cozy living room towards the kitchen. The windows in the living room giving it a nice view of the night sky illuminated by the moon. The snow casting a beautiful shimmer on the ground which reflects on the windows. I grab the pot to start boiling the milk. I search through the cupboards for a mug. I take out w step towards the refrigerator to take out the milk. I reach and grab it pouring into the preheated pot. I reach into a container along the counter edge that holds the hot chocolate packets. I open it and pour into the boiling milk. I stir the pot and watch it turn a light brown color. I reach against the counter to grab the mug. A sigh is all that comes out from my lips as I hear a familiar voice in my ear. The voice makes me jump. “I think I will fuck you in this position, lil mama, right now and your going to love every second of it.” he says in a growl in my ear. Before I have the chance to react, his hand makes way to the hem of my shirt. My breath is shallow as I try to gain my breath back. He hands start moving up and down my thighs causing goosebumps to arise on my bare skin. Nate moves his hands upwards moving my panties to the side to reach my clit. His lips kiss my neck as I let out a load and desperate moan.  I know who is touching me, his smell, his words he said on our first bight shared together. He presses me closer against the counter touching, kissing, and biting my neck towards my soft spot behind my ear. I close my eyes as he continues and my breaths become erratic. His breath is in my ear and his heartbeat thumping onto my back. His fingers move towards my swollen clit and raises my leg onto the counter top. And without a second breath he sinks into me forcefully. “Fuck!” I cry out and his unexpected thrust. “Oh, fuck, yeah…..” I let out a load moan as he pounds into me forcefully over and over again. I push my self away from the counter surface which causes him to move deeper inside me. He bites my neck from the collarbone all the way behind my ear. “So fucking tight Y/N, you needed this didn’t you? You needed me so bad” Nate’s words turning me on even more if it was even possible. I love the way he talks to me when we are having sex. “Oh” I cry out as I reach behind to get ahold of his neck. I bring his lips closer towards mine to indulge in a well deserved kiss. Nate’s pounding gets faster each thrust causing me to jolt forward almost hitting against the counter. “You miss my cock Y/N?” He asks leaving hickies along my neck. “Oh, yes, Nate, I’m going to cum” I say loud moans arising from my throat. “Come on, Cum Y/N and cum hard” He growls into my ear and pts his fingers on my swollen clit. His fingers rubbing soft, slow, and gentle circles unlike his forceful thrusts. I immediately reached my high and cry out causing Nate to cover my mouth with his hand. Nate kisses my neck and I bite down on his hand on my mouth to keep me from moving around to much. Nate comes right after lowering my leg from the counter surface. His hands run down my sides as we try and regain or breaths. I look up at his face causing a wide grin to erupt on his face/ “hey lil mama” his voice is raspy and sexy “it great to see you again. Do you want me to start pouring the hot chocolate in your mug?” Nate asks lowering my shirt that rose up during our previous activities. “No, I can do it. Do you want one too?” I ask him as I turn around and place my hands around his neck. “Of course from you anytime” He says placing a gentle kiss on my lips. I start busying myself with pouring the hit chocolate into the mgs. I feel Nate’s stares as I finish what I’m doing and  hand him the mug. “How did you know I was down here?” I ask him as we walk into the living room. He sits down and pulls me onto his lap. “Well we are staying under the same roof. I heard noise from down here and decided to take a look and found you” He explains taking a sip from his mug. “And I couldn’t find which room you were sleeping in so I slept with Swazz until I found you.” Nate kisses my lips before I take another sip form the mug. “I’ve missed you while you were on tour” I tell honestly looking at the fire blazing. “I missed you to Y/N, but now I’m here. I love you” Nate says bringing me into a passionate kiss. “I love you too” I tell him finishing my cup of hot chocolate. We both get up and place  the mugs in the sink. “I forgot to say Merry Christmas, baby” I say grabbing his hand and leading him towards my room. We snuggle against each other on the bed. “Merry Christmas and the many more we get to share together” We slowly drift off to sleep. This has been the best Christmas by far.

Originally posted by skatesslut