#almost done with tongues of serpents...

[chiropteracupola]

william laurence forever in a state of numb astonishment at the fact that other people are experiencing success in life...

[the-modern-typewriter]

If anyone wants to read a free sapphic short story I wrote about Medusa :)

Here's the opening:

With hindsight in mind, if I was ever turned into stone again I would definitely pick a different pose. Though, with hindsight in mind, I don’t think she’d have turned me into a rock either. Not then.

I’m on my knees.

She was on her knees too, the last time we officially spoke. She’d just raced out of the temple, heaving sobs so shattering I thought she might choke on them. She raked her hands over the writhing mass of her hair, but for each hungry mouth she covered, another twisted past her fingers like a story thread refusing to be cut.

“What happened?!”

“Don’t look at me.” She curled crumpled on the grass. “Just go away!”

“They’re not so bad,” I said. “They’re – pretty.”

“They’re hideous! I look hideous.”

The serpents hissed their indignation. They really were glorious, those snakes. They weren’t just one colour or one type, but a vast explosion of mottled blues and yellows and greens. They were resplendent in the light – just like her.

“I like them.” I stepped forward, despite the uncertain hammering of my heart. I knelt down in front of her; determined to prove that, no matter what happened, I wasn’t afraid. Not of her. Never of her. “Hey. Hey. C’mere.”

“No.” She reared back. The snakes shifted too, flaring, fanged. “No, don’t – I don’t – the snakes—”

“—They’re you. They won’t hurt me.”

“You don’t know that!”

“I know you.”

She gulped, snorting a slightly hysterical sound that might have been a laugh. She dragged the back of her hand trembling over her eyes.

“I know you,” I said again, softer.

I reached out, gently brushing the tears from her damp cheeks. Her skin was cracked and almost unrecognisable beneath my touch, but the snakes did not attack. They settled like I was the sun and they were basking. I felt their tongues flicker across me, felt the nuzzle of their many heads, craning for me in the way that she never would as a priestess of Athena. It made my chest ache. It gave me courage to match all of the great heroes.

“I know you and I love you,” I said. “So whatever’s happened—”

Her head snapped up to look at me.

“You love me?” she echoed.

Then she realised what she’d done. Then she realised what she could do.

The rest, as they say, is untold history.

[imaginesmai]

Your name on my body - modern!Azriel

Beautiful and amazing @thehighladywrites posted this INCREDIBLE idea and I had to try it. I've never written a modern!acotar AU, a college!acotar AU or nerdy-tattooed!Azriel. I haven't written bimbo!reader, and since English is not my first language, I don't know if I have done it right. I enjoyed this sooooo much, let me know if you want more or have some requests!

Extra points for whoever gets the crescent city saga reference!

Plot: nerd-tattooed!Azriel gets a tattoo with your name and it leads to smutty time.

Warnings: porn and porn and Azriel being freaky and porn with just an inch of plot. This is dirty.

The door of the apartment closed behind your back and you were met with an empty living room. You usually didn’t come in unannounced, because Azriel’s shared apartment always had some type of surprise. But your boyfriend had asked you to do so, and to use the spare key he had given you a while ago.

Azriel had been studying for his finals for weeks, and had finally finished them. Instead of going out to celebrate like you had, he had stayed in with his friends. You hadn’t seen each other too much, apart from the long hours in the library where he tried to help you with your exams – and you didn’t count those hours, since you did nothing more than stare at him.

The apartment, as expected, was trashed. There were beer bottles in the ground, suspicious stains in the carpet and a very naked Cassian sleeping in the couch. You had just barely gotten out of your hangover, and Azriel’s roommate was about to start his.

Through all the chaos, you were certain none of it belonged to Azriel. He liked to party, sure, but not hard and long as you. He preferred to stay quiet and observe, with a drink that lasted him the whole night. You were trying to remember if the heel that poked through the back of the couch was from your friend when you heard him coming.

“This way, princess”

His deep, morning voice made you turn around and stumble to his presence. Like a serpent caught in a sweet melody, you were always pulled towards him. Azriel was wearing a grey t-shirt and black shorts, that fit him like a globe. Dark glasses and disheveled hair. And lots of tattoos that you had traced previously with your fingers and tongue.

“Hey, handsome” you greeted him, not hiding your bright smile. “Got your text this morning. What were you doing up so early?”

“Hit the gym before breakfast. Not all of us are hangover”

“Tell that to the other half of the campus or your roommates. Rhysand spent the night with Feyre in the rooftop”

Your roommate hadn’t appeared last night, and you had found a very cryptic text that morning that led you to the rooftop – where both her and Rhysand were fast asleep with the bottle still uncorked.

As soon as you were within reach, Azriel pulled you closer by your waist and smashed his lips against yours. He tasted like coffee and mint, and erased any trace of drunkenness from last night. You tangled your manicured fingers between his locks, shamefully scratching the nape of his neck with your long nails.

They differed from Azriel’s bitten ones. Your short dress from his baggy clothes, and your dyed hair from his untamed ones. While you liked to shine in the public, to dress up and party, Azriel preferred to be quiet, thrift clothes and study. To the campus, you were the bimbo, and he was the nerd.

But you were his bimbo and he was your nerd.

“How was the party?” Azriel asked between kisses, his lips not staying for too long on yours.

“Good. Missed you” you almost whined when he pulled back too soon, and he chuckled.

“Missed you too. Did you have fun?”

You hummed as his hands lowered until they cupped the edge of your ass. The dress was short enough he could pull it up until anyone could see your panties, but neither of you cared. He had to lean down to do so, and you took advantage to deepen the kiss.

On the outside, Azriel might have looked like the shy, nerdy student, but he was freaky. You had been surprised when a hook-up with your assigned tutor turned out in the best night of your life, and there was nothing that could unhook you from him.

His hands were big enough to squeeze most of your ass, kneading it just like you loved it. Roughly, you were pushed into his body. Azriel was always semi-hard when you came to view, and you always took care of choosing the shortest and most provocative dress in his presence.

Few things were better than a good night out and a good morning fucking.

“I’ve got a surprise for you. Can I take you to my room?”

“You don’t have to ask”

But he did, breaking away your heated kiss. Azriel pushed the bridge of his glasses up and gave you a crooked smile, offering you his hand. You gladly took it and let him guide you to his room. The farthest, the darkest, but also the neatest. Azriel spent a good part of his time in there, and you loved it. He had incorporated you slowly in it, from the spare clothes in his closet for you to the stupid crafts you did together when you were bored.

“And what did you do last night? Started studying for the next semester?” you teased him, and he gave you a sideway look.

“I could, but I was busy with Mor”

“What were you doing with Mor?”

Your frown was instant, as the jealousy that rose to your chest. Morrighan was his friend, and you respected that, but you knew he had liked her in the past. That the woman was gorgeous, brilliant and smart in ways you didn’t complement Azriel. You liked her enough to be kind and maybe envious, but the notice of her with Azriel left you with a sour taste in the mouth.

Azriel chuckled at the edge of your tone and didn’t answer. If anyone had reasons to be jealous, was him, yet he never was. You had quite the reputation in college, and dressed to impress. More than once, you had been walking with Azriel and received not so subtle glances. You had even gotten the barista’s number when you asked for his order. And through all of that, Azriel had just shrugged and told you he trusted you.

So, for his sake, you tried to do the same.

During the longest seconds in your life, you were quiet. You sat on his bed and crossed your arms across your chest. Azriel closed the door behind him, just as you heard the first groan from his roommate, and turned around so he could face you.

The height difference, the size difference, warmed you in every place of your body. Azriel loved the gym just as he loved his books, and there was not a part of his body that he didn’t work. You liked the difference, liked his big form and how it towered over you even standing. As you sat in silence, you bit the inside of your cheek to control yourself.

“We went to the tattoo parlor, since she knows the owner. I wanted something done” he watched your frown with diversion, and continued when you said nothing. “So, you can be jealous of her, who has a girlfriend now, but I’m supposed to be fine with guys drooling over you last night?”

“I didn’t look at them”

“I didn’t look at her” he answered back, and took off his tee.

The sleeveless piece of cloth didn’t hide much, but you still lost your breath when it hit the ground. His muscled, tattooed chest came to view, and that was enough to make you get up. It wasn’t Mor’s lips that had left marks two nights ago on his left shoulder, or who had bitten his pierced nipple until he had come into his pants in the library’s bathroom.

It was you who had caused the tent in his pant, that caused his eyes to darken when you stepped closer. You placed your hand over his right thigh, the muscles tightening underneath. His boner hit your stomach and you pushed yourself against it, opening your mouth to apologize, or maybe to suck the life out of him.

“Don’t you want to know what I got?” he asked, sounding on edge.

“I don’t understand half of your tattoos. Whatever you got is hot and perfect, just like you”

“Look down, princess” Azriel groaned when your nail touched his dick.

“On my knees?”

You were ready to do so, or let him bend you over the table. He could do with your body as he pleased, but you were caught off guard when you noticed the reddish, new ink wrapped in invisible paper. It looked delicate against the rest of his tattoos, new and beautiful. Right between his hips, where the dark trail of dark hair had just been removed, was a new tattoo.

In his v-line, that you licked and adored and stared at so much. With the nickname he had gifted you since he met you and the stupid, childless heart you drew on every notebook of his.

Princess ♡

Your breath came out shaky as you traced the letters with your finger. If it wasn’t for the make-up, you had so carefully put on that morning with a killing headache, you would have burst into tears. His own hand covered yours and helped you trace the missing letters, and the heart.

It should have been distracting to look at it while his dick demanded your attention inches lower, but you couldn’t look away. Not when you felt a hard clench on your heart that left you lightheaded.

“Do you like it?” it was a whisper in the dark room, a spark of doubt that made you look up.

How could you not like it, not like anything about such a perfect man? You nodded enthusiastically, your other hand searching blindly for his.

“Why did you get that?”

“Because I love you, and I want to carry you with me always” Azriel’s eyes were kind, and soft, and loving – and they were making you dizzy with desire.

“Did it hurt too much?” you asked, looking down again at the tattoo. You, who had smooth and unmarked skin, couldn’t phantom the pain of a nursing needle to draw blood. “It must have”

“Worth every second. Lay in bed, princess. I need to be between your legs”

He didn’t let you take the initiative and threw you on his bed with a quick move. Azriel towered over you for a second before kneeling between your already open, wide legs, and leaving his glasses on the. He smirked with no doubts as he pulled the hem of your dress over your panties. His fingers were rough, pressing hard enough to leave red marks on its way.

You only bit your lower lip when he rose your dress to your waist and sneaked his hand beneath, the edge of his fingers pressing over your breasts.

With the idea of that outcome, you hadn’t bothered with a bra, and his eyes darkened even more at the discovery. You watched his throat work around the new information as he rose his body higher, now covering your breasts with his hands. He squeezed them, keeping them trapped in his palms as he lowered where you needed him.

“I’m gonna erase all those looks from last night” he promised, hands retreating following your curved. “Whose got you this wet, hm?”

“Azzie, don’t be mean”

Azriel was in your hands the moment his nickname fell from your lips, and at your mercy when you used that whiney, flirty tone. He didn’t even bother taking off your panties – he tore them off. Like a sheet of paper, like a piece of cake. You moaned his name, and it came out like a yelp when he dug in without reservations.

His tongue was feral as he licked a long stripe between your entrance to your clit. He pressed it against your clit and actually trapped it between his teeth for a moment. The barrier between pain and pleasure was hard to tell when he snuck his hands under your ass and lifted you a few inches for him to devour.

“Love this so much” you spoke with a content smile, as he massaged your ass in silent appreciation. “Love you”

One of your hands reached to his hair, pushing his face closer to your center. He agreed and pushed one finger inside you. Your mind emptied when he began pumping it in and out, curling it just in the right spot before pulling out and replacing it with his tongue.

Cassian pounded on the wall and yelled at you to be quiet, and Azriel pounded back harder as a fuck you response. You didn’t have it in you to care about him as Azriel pulled you closer by the ass, your legs laying boneless against his wide back.

His nose brushed your clit, up and down, and you weren’t sure he could breathe from how passionate and hard he was eating you out. You called his name wordlessly, your mouth emitting only broken noises.

“So good for me, princess. My beautiful princess” his voice was guttural, so primal it made you lock his head between your legs. “Give me one, come on. Give me the first one so I can wreck you from behind”

“That sounds clinically dangerous!”

Azriel growled against your clit and parted your folds with his chin. He ran his lips through all of them, and by the time he pushed his finger back in, you were cumming on his face and screaming so loud his name you could have woken up the rest of the campus. He caressed your lower regions as you came down from your high, accompanying your orgasm with lazy, long stripes through your folds.

When Azriel came back up, his chin and mouth bright from your juices and his hair sticking in every direction, you were already ready for round two. He didn’t need to be told, and he rose leaving a trail of bites up your body.

He briefly stopped to leave two twin marks between your breasts, so round and perfect and purple you were squirming under him again.

“Azzie” it had been the only word you were capable of saying, and your mind cleared down for a second

“Was that good? Worthy princess treatment after a night out?” Azriel asked, leaving wet kisses on your neck.

“Perfect”

You hugged his back as he pulled himself above you, and your nails left angry, red marks across his lower waist. You pulled the band of his sport shorts and underwear down, and squeezed his hard ass just like he had been doing to yours. His dick sprung free with little effort, and he rubbed himself against your side as you caught your breath.

It wasn’t a one-time thing with Azriel, and you heard Cassian muttering about calling 911 before turning on the music. It took Azriel at least three of your orgasm to be content, and he could cum another three before he let you go. He always stopped, for your sake, when your legs couldn’t hold you up anymore and you had tears ruining your perfect make-up.

Few things turned him more on than being the cause of that ruined make-up.

Before he could empty your mind again, you quickly brought up the only coherent thought that kept pounding your head.

“I want your name too. On me”

“A tattoo?” he raised a brow.

Azriel didn’t stop rubbing himself slowly but tightly against your thigh. His hand was over your sore cunt, in a possessive manor he only showed inside the bedroom. At your petition, he pressed his finger tighter.

“Here. Between my breasts, with your name” you quickly explained. “I want Azzie between my breasts, so each time someone looks at me, he knows these are yours”

“You are mine”

None of your relationships had lasted as long or had been as deep. You were the type of girl who would have his ex-name tattooed, but truth was you were wary of tattoos, and Azriel knew that. He had tried to get you into a simple one, something he could draw for you and hold your hand through it.

His body was a map of ink and drawings, some of them goofy and some of them deep. He liked your innocent, smooth skin, but he found himself breathing harder at the thought of his name on your chest. Thinking of how many kisses, how many marks he would leave there every given moment.

Azriel recalled not a month ago pulling down your cleavage between classes to kiss your nipples sore, the hand he always sneaked to unclasp your bra and touch you beneath the lace. His name, the nickname that brought him to his knees, decorating that skin.

“Are you sure?” he didn’t want to get his hopes up, not when he was ready to tattoo you himself right then and there. With Cassian playing loud classical music in the next room.

“And a crown drawn by you on the top” you rose a teasing eyebrow at his lack of movement, given the discussion for finished. “Are you going to wreck me from behind or do I have to ask Cassian for help?”

Azriel broke into a loud laugh before smacking your cunt loudly, then manhandling you around. With his left arm holding you by your waist, he pressed himself against your back. His dick brushed all the right spots between your bodies, but your hands were trapped under you and you couldn’t touch him.

Complaining would only make him take out those beautiful handcuffs you knew he owned so you only bit your lip and whined like the good girl you were for him.

“I’m gonna tattoo my name between your breasts, if that’s what you want” he whispered against your ear, his other hand appearing around your throat. “I love you so much, princess. So fucking much”

Azriel squeezed your throat at the same time he entered you with a rough, only thrust. It avoided the moan that died in your chest, that had you rolling back your eyes in pleasure. It didn’t stop Azriel from moaning your name out loud, loud enough for Cassian to turn up the stupid music.

The headboard banged against the wall and his glasses fell to the ground, as he left you no room to breathe, to recover. Maybe he had managed to shut you down, but he was doing nothing about his own sounds. You were vaguely aware of Cassian slamming the door of the apartment after screaming some profanities, but you didn’t acknowledge him.

Not when Azriel seemed to be trying to tattoo his name deep into your body and soul.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

Let me know if you want me to do an Azriel taglist!

Azriel taglist:

@boygeniuses10 , @tothestarsandwhateverend , @starsinyourseyes

[pretzel-box]

Hiya! Hope you’re day is going well for you! Could I request a male (experiment) reader x Sebastian solace? Like the reader is somewhat similar to his monster form if that makes sense. ALSO I LOVVVEEEEE YOUR WRITING ITS SO GOOD! HAVE A GOOD DAY, AFTERNOON, OR MORNING

words: 1k

tags: can be read as GN!reader actually

authors note: Thank you so much!!

Sebastian was used to the solitude of the Hadal Blackside. The darkness, the eerie silence, and the constant tension that hung in the water were all part of his daily existence. He had grown accustomed to the loneliness that came with being something similar to a hybrid But that all changed one day when he encountered something—or rather, someone—completely unexpected.

He was slithering through one of the many winding corridors of the facility, his long tail gliding effortlessly over the slick, damp floor. His angler lure bobbed gently in front of him, casting a soft glow in the murky darkness. He had been on edge all day, sensing a strange presence in the water, something that felt both familiar and foreign. It was enough to make even him wary, and that was saying something.

As he rounded a corner, his three fluorescent eyes scanning the dimly lit hallway, he caught sight of movement up ahead. At first, he assumed it was one of the usual creatures that roamed the depths, perhaps another wall dweller or an angler monster. But as he got closer, he realized that this was something different—someone different.

You were curled up in a shadowy corner, Your long, sinuous tail coiled around You like a serpent. Your skin was a deep shade of blue, almost blending into the darkness around you. A long fin ran down the length of your tail, shimmering faintly in the dim light. You ears were shaped like delicate fins, twitching slightly as you sensed his approach. But what caught Sebastian’s attention the most was the small, glowing lure that dangled from your forehead, much like his own.

You were another experiment.

Sebastian stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening in surprise. He had never encountered another creature so similar like himself before. The scientists at Urbanshade had always treated him as a one-of-a-kind experiment, something unique and singular in its creation. Yet here you were, another hybrid, looking just as startled as he was.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. They simply stared at each other, two creatures of the deep who had never expected to find anotherlike themselves. Finally, the silence was broken as you cautiously uncoiled yourself, your large glowing eyes watching him warily.

“Who… who are you?” Your voice was soft, almost melodic, carrying a hint of the ocean’s depths in its tone.

Sebastian blinked, his own voice caught in his throat. He wasn’t used to speaking, especially not to someone who wasn’t a scientist or a monster. But there was something about you that made him want to respond, to reach out and connect in a way he had never done before.

“I’m… Sebastian,” he said hesitantly, his gruff voice sounding awkward to his own ears. “I live here.”

You tilted your head, You fin ears twitching as you processed his words. “I’m living here too,” You replied, your name rolling off You tongue like a gentle wave as you introduced yourself. “I… I didn’t know there was anyone else like me here.”

Sebastian felt a strange warmth in his chest, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. It was a mix of relief and curiosity, the realization that he wasn’t alone in this dark, twisted place. “I didn’t either,” he admitted, his gaze softening as he took in your appearance. You were beautiful in a strange, otherworldly way. You features delicate yet strong, gracefulness that contrasts sharply with the harsh environment around them.

They stood there for a while, simply observing each other, both unsure of what to say or do next. But there was an unspoken understanding between them, a bond that came from shared experiences and a mutual sense of isolation.

You were the first to break the silence again. “Do you… do you live alone here?” You asked, your voice tinged with sadness.

Sebastian nodded slowly. “Yeah. It’s just me. The people who… who made me like this don’t come around anymore. Their luck.” He hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. “What about you?”

You sighed softly, your tail twitching as you curled it around yourself again. “I was brought here not too long ago. They… experimented on me, just like you. I managed to escape before they could do too much, but I’ve been hiding ever since.”

Sebastian’s heart ached at your words. He knew all too well the horrors of Urbanshade’s experiments, the pain and fear that came with being treated like nothing more than a test subject. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice filled with genuine empathy.

You looked up at him, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “It’s okay. I’m used to it by now.” You hesitated before adding, “But… it’s nice to know I’m not the only one.”

Sebastian felt a strange urge to comfort you, to reach out and touch you hand or offer some form of reassurance. It was an unfamiliar feeling, one he hadn’t experienced in a long time. He had always been solitary, resigned to his fate as a lone creature of the deep. But now, with You standing before him, that solitude didn’t seem so inevitable anymore.

“Maybe we don’t have to be alone,” he suggested softly, his voice almost shy. “We could… stick together, you know? Watch each other’s backs.”

You blinked in surprise, your expression softening as you considered his words. For a moment, you looked like you might cry, but then a small, genuine smile spread across your lips. “I’d like that,” You whispered.

Sebastian felt a surge of warmth in his chest, a feeling he hadn’t known he was capable of. It wasn’t love—at least not yet—but it was something close to it. It was the beginning of a connection, a bond that neither of them had expected but both desperately needed.

In the end you became an assistant in his shop, sharing the same tasks as him and occasionally murking the one or other person that tries to flash you with a flash beacon.

[konigbabe]

SHRINE

Pairing: Choso Kamo x fem!reader Word count: 1.3k Tags/warnings: no y/n; smut; soft!dom!choso; female body worship; fingering; cunnilingus (oral sex - f!receive); little religious imaginery; female gendered anatomy Summary: He just wants to please you. Part of my JJKS2 writing week.

event masterlist • masterlist • navigation • faq • AO3 • ko-fi

The room’s dimply lit, shadows dancing along the walls, casting a solemn ambiance that hangs heavy in the air.

You can’t take it anymore.

He’s taking his time. It was supposed to be just a quick foreplay.

Time slips away, swallowed by the abyss of pure, primal and raw pleasance.

And Choso isn’t done yet. The weight of his touch – rough and relentless – presses against your flesh as if he’s seeking to sculpt you into something more than human. Something he can worship, pray to – his own shrine. Hands, calloused and weathered, navigate the curves of your body with a fervor that both unnerves and enthralls.

Drawing docile moans from your throat. He takes a long lick; collects your juices. Swallows it all; an intoxicating concoction of metal and salt, a confection so sweet it spreads warmth through his starved body, sets his senses ablaze; a humble acolyte.

Like a serpent in the Garden of Eden – each drop glides down his throat, a symphony of flavors that dance upon his palate.

Christ, how much he has missed you.

His hands gingerly skim up your curves, exploring every inch of the silkiness of your flesh. Fingertips apostles baptizing your skin with trails of reverence, dancing across your thighs, treasuring the way your legs open to accept him; to embrace his expansive frame.

Choso lapps at your throbbing nub, tongue hot and wet, making broad, leisurely strokes that almost cause you pain. He brushes his lips against you then pulls away, not wanting its taste to end too soon; pushing his tongue inside your pussy, stroking the slick walls until they squeeze and tighten around him; the muscles inside you clench even tighter as he flicks your clit with his tongue.

"Choso–mmpmh," his name a mere mewl, "please, more," you sob out, drawing Choso’s eyes up, the color for penitence and mourning – a pleading glance, and he’s aware. Knows what you want, what you plead for.

Heart swelling with the desire to please, silently adoring you. For an eternity, wants to taste every inch of your body – to devour you.

Still, he refuses to give it to you. Wants to prolong this hour to eons, hear you beg more.

One hand slides away from your thigh, his thumb triggering an uncontrollable shudder as it flicks over your clit, circling the bud; he pulls back, lips tracing the curve of your navel. Teeth biting into the soft, pliant flesh before he murmurs against your quivering form, "Words, baby. I need words."

A plaintive whine breaks free from your shaky voice, every nerve in your being gets set on fire as the wet tip of Choso’s tongue traverses the expanse of your bellybutton, meandering towards the tender hollow of your sternum before his face rests in the crook of your neck – a hand enclosing the fat of your breast, thumb stroking over the nipple.

"What do you want?"

The heat of his breath spreads over the slight curve of your clavicles, making the skin tingle. The hand that’s been toying with your nub now fully cupping your leaking pussy, hot and ready; waiting.

"Want your—ahh," his tongue licks the curvature of your neck before his teeth nip at the damp flesh; the pressure of his hand between your legs intensifies, yet it stays still, "Choso–"

Breath hitching, Choso's middle finger teases your slit, running over your entrance tantalizingly slow as he waits.

You grip his hair, legs spreading wider apart, offering yourself up to him more. Hand sneaking over the contours of his shoulder; feeling the play of muscles and tendons underneath your pads.

"Your fingers," you whimper out, heels digging into the mattress as you push your hips against his hand.

The sight of you – spread open, aching and so desperate for his touch, for him – draws a curse from his lips, cock twitching in his pants.

"Christ–," he kisses you then. Wet and needy. His middle finger pushes forward, feeling you grip him, suck him in as you writhe underneath him, swallowing the strained cries, "you’re so beautiful. So perfect."

He takes his time. Adds another finger, stretches you out.

Sinking his fingers deeper inside you, exploring the tightness of your walls in search for uncharted territories, tasting your pleasure and the way your body moves on its own accord. His thumb brushes against your clit with each thrust, setting off mini-explosions within you as his mouth latches on your breast, a hand kneading the other one.

With the flat, wide expanse of his tongue, Choso licks the fullness of your breast, seeking out and taking in your nipple. He circles it until it’s a hard peak and then, ever so slightly, takes it between his teeth. Eyes staying glued to your face, watching the blissful abandon as your eyes close.

Curling his fingers upwards, putting blunt pressure onto your weak spot and feeling the slickness of your heat drip onto his hand, Choso pushes you closer; feeling your pussy contract, walls quivering around him, he doesn't slow down.

Instead, he pushes harder, with greater intensity, his fingers working you in and out, shameless sounds of your juices squelching fill your ears – send heat to your chest, cheeks; only fueled by the feel of his mouth never leaving your breasts.

"Choso–m’gonna–uhh," words incoherent, consciousness consumed by a rapturous trance, "Choso–ahh–fuck–"

He hears you, captures the sweet melody of your voice. Thumb drawing eights, stroking the pulsating nerve, coaxing you; he smiles, a gentle curve that caresses the tender skin of your chest before his lips meet the hollow of your sternum. Each press of his mouth against your skin ignites a holy rhapsody of overwhelming ecstasy, the warmth of his breath mingling with the softness of his touch

"I know," his lips move upwards, "doin’ so good for me," until his breath scorches your cheek, meets the curve of your earlobe, lips tracing the arc of the cartilage, "cum for me, love."

You feel it then – the waves of pleasure washing over you, growing increasingly stronger until you’re shaking beneath him. Every nerve in your body on fire, you surrender and let go, feeling as if you’re floating away on a cloud.

His gaze lingers on your face; burning the image into his mind – the indent between your eyebrows as you furrow them together, the way your eyes are tightly shut, the fluttering of your lashes, and the trembling of your lips as they part to release a cry so raw and pure and blissful that it almost makes him cum.

Choso doesn’t stop.

Fingers plunging deep into you, the white heat of pleasure radiating from your core. His thumb toying with your aching clit; you can feel the heart beating between your legs when Choso moves down, the tip of his tongue drawing a straight line from your chin to your abdomen before he draws his fingers out. Puts them in his mouth instead and sucks them clean.

You watch the way his eyes flutter shut; how his lips curl into a satisfied smirk as he licks away the evidence of your latest orgasm. Then his lips find their place back on your pussy, licks another stripe. Arms supporting your legs, keeping them wide apart with hands gripping your sides.

Your hand sneaks into his hair, messy and flat, sticky with sweat, "Choso–" you whine, twisting under his grasp in an attempt to get away, "can’t–can’t do another."

"Just one," his breath scorches your skin, tongue sneaking its way up your inner thigh, pasty with your own cum, mixed with his saliva lapping at the sweat dripping from your trembling body; he already made a mess of you, "just one more."

[sunshinescribes]

Continuum - 1

Pairing: Namor x Black Fem!Reader

Rating: EXPLICIT

Summary: Despite the alliance between Wakanda and Talokan, The Feathered Serpent God isn’t truly welcomed in the Golden City. That doesn’t stop you from allowing him in your bed, nor him from wanting more

You call his name, but you don’t think he hears.

Don’t think Namor can sense anything beyond the taste of you on his tongue, sweet and smearing his chin—the way he always wants you, and you know your sheets will be a mess when he’s done. Know you’ll have to wash away the evidence of a liaison that should never be.

Alliance or not, he isn’t truly welcome on these shores, but you allow him anyway with the promise that this time will be the last.

Your resolve is questionable, as is your loyalty.

Your fingers thread through wet hair. You pull him closer to your soaking pussy, and he groans. The feel of it reverberates through you as you choke out his name.

Namor pulls away from your soaking slit with a sigh. His dark, half-lidded eyes trail up your body until they meet yours.

“You have missed me,” He whispers against your thigh, licking the wetness that’s made its way there.

He lets nothing go to waste.

“That wasn’t a question,” you note, feeling the ghost of a smile against your skin.

“No…” Namor’s hand traces the inside of your thighs. Thick fingers brush against the folds of your pussy, slowly reaching your clit, “It was not.”

He returns his mouth where you need it most, while his thick fingers work away at your throbbing clit. Your legs shake, your breath hitches as you’re drawn closer to another soul shattering orgasm. Even as Namor takes you apart, he does it will no real urgency. His movements are languid, as if he has all the time in the world.

Namor replaces his tongue with his fingers, stretching you as he pushes two fingers into you sopping cunt. You can hear the evidence of your desire—the slick, wet sounds as his fingers massage your fluttering walls. Your hips buck forward, wanting his fingers knuckle deep, and he laughs. A deep, throaty laugh that’s almost cruel.

“What would they say?” Namor lifts his face; his lips curl into an amused smile as he watches you. Watches the rise and fall of your breasts, the tremble of your lips as praise and encouragement falls from them, “Hm? If they all knew how desperate you are for me? How eager.”

“I…I don’t know,” you lie.

It’s easier than thinking about how you would be dishonored. The question of your loyalty would be immediate, and no answer you gave would satisfy your elders, nor your king.

Though an alliance stood between Wakanda and Talokan, it did not wash away Namor’s sins, nor earn him the favor of your people.

As far as anyone was concerned, he was a necessary evil—one that you could seemingly not say no to.

Namor tsks. The rhythm of his fingers slows as he considers you. He wants the truth you refuse to give.

“Do you think they will forgive you? Will you beg for it? Lie?” He pulls his fingers out of you, eyes following his digits glazed with your wetness, “Or will you have to turn to me?”

He looks at you as he lifts his fingers to his mouth, tasting you. He groans contentedly around his digits,  his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as if he is savoring just how fucking sweet you are—as if there is no fruit, nor drink in existence that can quite satisfy his hunger the way you do.

You blink up at him, dazed by his display and so painfully needy. Your cunt aches as it clenches around nothing. It’s enough to bring you to tears, but you’d bet that’s exactly what he wants. You, dumb and delirious and crying for him. Completely at his mercy.

“I would never turn to you,” you bite, and Namor’s eyes finally open. They seem endless as he stares up at you with an indecipherable expression.

His slick fingers skim the length of your leg, leaving a trail of his saliva that leads straight to your pulsing cunt.

“You already have.”

His fingers push back into you, and a curse rips from your throat. His languid manner is long gone, replaced by a feverish need to make you come around his fingers now. His pace is ruthless, his fingers reaching further into you until he’s knuckle-deep, just the way you need him—and then he fucking curls his fingers.

You tip over the edge without warning, your release violent and unexpected as it racks through you. Your walls flutter around his fingers, your legs convulse, and his name falls from your lips with so much devotion, you’d think perhaps he is the god his people claim him to be.

Your body goes limp as you come down from your high with a shaky sigh. You feel the heat of Namor’s mouth as he trails kisses up your body, a steady path upward until his lips hover over yours.

His fingers cradle your jaw, his hold firm as he keeps your gaze trained on him, and your heart aches.

Bast, he’s beautiful. It always stuns you no matter how many times you have the revelation—and this is when you promise yourself that this is the last time you allow him in your bed. You both never stopped to explain what this was, but you know feelings would only complicate things further…make the inevitable end that much harder to see through.

“What are you thinking right now?” Namor asks against your lips, teasing. He’s back to taking his time, dragging everything out for his own pleasure, while simultaneously driving you as mad as he possibly can. You have half the mind to close the gap between you two, and another to send his happy ass back to the sea.

You do neither.

“I think that you’re ruining me,” Namor grins. You nearly stumble over your words, “And I am disappointed in myself for enjoying it.”

He nods, leaning in as he closes the space between your lips. Namor kisses you like it’s the first time—all hunger and a need to consume you, but he does not rush. He tastes you, rolls his tongue along your bottom lip. Your lips part with a sigh, and he’s quick to make you taste yourself on his tongue—to know just how delicious you truly are, before he breaks away.

“I wish to do more than just ruin you…”

His hand reaches down, wrapping around his hard dick. He gives it a few quick strokes, groaning against your mouth before he rubs his dick between your folds, coating himself with your juices. You gasp, squirming beneath him as you feel your walls flutter painfully. You’re still sensitive from your previous orgasms, but this will do little to deter Namor. He will have you until you’re boneless, voice gone from how hard you’ve used it to call out for him, to plead him to go deeper. Fuck you harder.

And Namor always ends it how he starts, between your legs and with your sweet arousal coating the back of his throat. The taste of you lingers, even when he returns to the depths of the ocean, back to Talokan. He tastes you while he paints hieroglyphs memorializing the legends he’s lived, and the ones he might.

Namor pushes into your entrance, feeling the warm slickness of your velvety walls as they hug his thick length, and he drives himself deeper. He curses in his mother tongue, adjusting to you as your sensitive walls throb around him. He won’t have to do much to set you off, and for a second he considers being charitable and putting you out of your lust-filled misery, but even that comes at a price.

He hadn’t wanted much in the beginning. Just you sprawled out for him in all your beauty. You had both been chasing a high, a need to have the other—and maybe it was the taboo surrounding the nature of your relationship that spurred it—the threat that lingered if one of you were found out, though Namor was not foolish enough to believe you did not have more to lose.

It hadn’t mattered before, but it mattered now. Here, with the taste of you on his tongue and your nails digging into the flesh of his back as he thrust into you shallowly—you fucking mattered, and he was no longer satisfied with late night hookups, and kisses behind closed doors. He resented having to wait weeks or even months to see you again, wondering all the while if you’d finally decide to turn him away when he returned.

He wanted more.

He wanted everything.

And what a creature craving could be.

Namor glanced down at you, mesmerized by your long lashes fluttering as your eyes closed—the furrow of your brow as pain and pleasure pulsed through your body. A plea fell from your lips, whispered so softly he nearly missed it.

Now was not the time to be charitable. Now was the time for negotiations.

“Say it.” Namor thrust harder, earning a whine from you, “Call my name.”

Your bottom lip quivered; the words nearly spoken before you caught yourself. You shook your head, and Namor let out a frustrated sigh.

He had told you to call him K’uk’ulkan. Whispered it against your lips like a plea months ago, but even now you deny him. The name was spoken with adoration by his people, and you learned he gave it to outsiders sparingly.

So, you couldn’t say it. You wouldn’t.

It’s the confession that you swallow, hidden away just like these meetings between you two. It’s the treacherous desire of wanting all of him at the cost of everything else.

And while you could be reckless enough to entertain desire driven nights with him, you could not conjure a fantasy where he was yours, and you were his. The cost was too great.

The rhythm of his hips slowed. Your eyes fluttered open as you glared up at him, biting back a curse in Xhosa.

“Are you so afraid of a name?”

He cocked his head to the side, bringing his hand up to wrap around your neck, “Or afraid of what it might mean to call me by it?”

Your breath hitched as you blinked up at him, the heat of his gaze and weight of his question making your thoughts foggy. Despite it, you found your voice.

“I’m afraid that you’ve forgotten what this is.”

Namor was silent for a moment. His dark eyes searched yours, before his lips curled into a smile that did not reach his eyes.

“Then remind me.”

He pulled out of you fully, leaving you wanting before he thrust back in with a force that made you cry out. He buried himself deep inside of you, stretching your aching cunt and making you feel every glorious inch of his dick.

He grabbed the back of your thighs, pushing your legs closer to your chest and began to fuck you like a wild, depraved animal.

You clawed at his back, anchoring yourself to him as he continued to pound into you. He groaned into the nape of your neck, his fingers bruised the flesh of your thighs as he lost himself.

“Is this all that you are then? A hole to fill?”

The sound of the meeting of your flesh filled the shack, drowning out the peaceful hum of the wind outside. The rustling of the trees.

You cursed, feeling the deliciously painful pressure in your core building with each brutal thrust.

Your hand trailed up his neck, fingers digging into his damp curls, and you pulled his head closer, resting his forehead against your as his hips started to stutter—his rhythm quickly losing its coordination.

“Please…” your voice sounded pathetic, even to your own ears, “Namor…K’u—”

You choked on his name as pure hot euphoria ricocheted through you. Your toes curled, your back arched painfully as you cried up towards the ceiling. A tear rolled down your cheek as you came violently around his aching dick.

Namor hissed a string of Mayan against your lips, words spoken so quickly your mind couldn’t even catch them. Your name was the only thing you could make out before Namor went rigid. His teeth bit into the flesh of your shoulder as his seed poured into you. His dick twitched inside of you as he gave a final thrust, pushing the evidence of his desire further into your pussy. His mouth hung open as his chest rose and fell, and bliss cascaded through him.

Namor carefully draped himself over you, conscious of not crushing you under his weight despite how featherlight he felt. He kissed your temple, whispering his praise as he stayed buried inside of you, feeling the mix of your release and his own slowly seeping out of you.

He would take care of you soon. Wash away the evidence of your love making before he returned to Talokan where he was needed most. But for now, he would bask in the feel of you beneath him, and the possibility that lingered between you two.

PART 2 , PART 3

[fleetingcalypso]

I absolutely love how you write Henry Winter! Perhaps you could write something more angsty. For example, Henry and the reader could get into a fight over Bunny going to Rome instead of the reader. Just an idea but I would love anything you do xx

≋ Love isn't love without some disagreements. I took the liberty of developing this prompt into something slightly different, it is a fight nonetheless.

≋ Henry Winter x GN!Reader ≋

≋ Word Count: 3277 words.

≋ TW: Possible manipulation/gaslighting, argument, consumption of alcohol, small moment of hallucination/dissociation, mentions of blood, mentions of planning someone's death, possible angst.

My arms are elbow deep in my sink, scrubbing the plates that barely minutes ago had my food resting on them. The only noises keeping me company are the quiet buzzing of the fridge, the splashing of water and porcelain hitting more porcelain. Three well assessed bangs coming from outside my apartment cause me to almost jump out of my skin and dry my hands in anticipation of opening the door, one glimpse at the clock mounted to the wall tells me it’s around nine. I’m not expecting anyone.

Most of all, I’m not expecting Henry to be the one pounding his fist against my door, a white knuckle grip on his suitcase’s handle, his chest rising in what look like panicked gasps for air. “Let me in.” He commands me. 

It takes me a moment to realize this is the real thing and not a hallucination. “My God, Henry…” I don’t recognize the narrowed eyes that stare at me, “What’s happened to you? What are you doing here?”  His shoulder bumps into mine as he makes his way into my home, without waiting for me to move out of the way.

“I had to leave. I had to.” He goes straight to my living room, all but throwing his coat onto my couch and ungracefully flopping beside it, I’ve rarely seen him act this way. A muscle in his clenched jaw twitches as he raises his fist, pressing it to his lips, the ever present frown on his face looks impossibly deeper than usual, he’s thinking about something and it vexes me that I can't read his mind like a poetry verse.

“Henry-” One glacial look from him shuts me up. He stares at me through his eyebrows, as if I’m everything wrong in the world, as if I was the serpent guiding humanity to an eternity of being exiled from Eden.

After he’s done petrifying me with his gaze he lets out an exhale of frustration lowering his head into his hands, his elbows sitting on his knees. Once the spell he had on my body evaporates I test my luck with just a couple steps in his direction. He doesn’t move. I’m gambling with his mood when I sit on the arm of my couch, lift his coat into my arms to fold it and set it aside. 

He abruptly stands and storms into my bathroom, slamming the door behind him; the muffled water sounds make it clear that he’s taken ownership over my shower. It leaves me enough time to fish some clean clothes out of his suitcase and set them in my bedroom’s bed where I know he will retire once he steps out, dripping wet and barely dressed.

Time barely moves while I step back into the living room and take a seat on the soft pillow he used earlier. I have no idea how much time has passed when he emerges from a cloud of steam, robe wrapped around his body. He spares me no glances while I rise to my feet. This time the door doesn’t slam after he steps into the bedroom and gets dressed. I still wait for him. It’s best to let him come to me, rather than pry. It’s like a toothache: the more the tongue smoothes over an aching tooth, the more it’s going to hurt.

After what feels like forever he trudges into the living room for what is the second time now, looking exhausted, his hand rests against the wall keeping him upright. Henry walks past me, pulling me into a kiss that lasts less than the flap of a butterfly’s wings.

The couch dips with his weight and suddenly we are back at square one. 

“Are you going to tell me what you are doing here, or am I going to pry the words out of you?” My words come out harsher than expected. Nothing makes sense. He’s supposed to be in Rome, keeping a strict eye on Bunny, making sure that idiot won’t do anything he might regret. I know for a fact our friend is still in Italy, he would have called and asked to meet up otherwise, surely to boast about all the things he’s admired and all to flaunt all the useless garbage he bought using Henry’s money.

Finally, he deems me worthy of an explanation, “Cuniculus molestus,” he says and it only adds fuel to my puzzlement. I repeat his words, he could only be talking about one thing, the one situation I hoped would never emerge. One blink, two words, three breaths and four shaky words: “What do you mean?...” It was all it took for Henry to rip apart at the seams.

“Bunny knows. He knows everything. The damned idiot found my diary.” He tries to contain the growl in his voice while rummaging through the clutter on my coffee table, searching for cigarettes I assume. And my suspicion is confirmed  hearing his groan of annoyance, finding the almost empty packet of Lucky Strikes: only four cigarettes, one is flipped upside-down. 

“It was a living nightmare. Bun acted as his usual aggravating self, perhaps even more so than usual, but nonetheless he wasn’t causing any actual harm. He complained about the rooms not being up to his standards, hell we were staying in some of the most picturesque rooms I had ever seen. He could have only dreamed of standing in that room, were I not there. Then he began feigning asthma attacks, nagging me about every small thing he could think of.” Henry’s words stop only when at last he lights the first cigarette.

“My God. He lamented being left alone just for a couple of minutes, but those times where I solicited him in coming with me, to a church, an art gallery, a restaurant- I don’t understand if he was faking, but he was insufferably bored, pestering me to leave. And it only got worse after a few weeks. Like salt sprinkled on a bleeding wound, I fell ill. A migraine, quite a painful one too. There was not much I could do, I realized. When after days of pure, unfiltered agony I finally mustered up enough strength to stand and search for a glass of water, that’s the moment it happened. I saw Bunny, because of the morning light shining into my eyes he simply looked like a blurry figure. When I greeted him, it took me a while to grasp the reality of what was happening.”

By now he’s a quarter in his second cigarette and I’m fully ready to cash a punch I know his words are leading the way for. He keeps talking.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” Henry asks, the pictures hung on my wall suddenly being the most interesting thing he’s ever seen, he stares at them almost unblinking. “I hit him. Hard. He retaliated, making me his punching bag until the chambermaid broke us apart. Since that day I tried to be as compliant as I could with him, I’d written quite a lot of harsh things about him after all, the best thing I could do was try to show him that- I don't know- that I didn’t mean them? Or that he wasn’t as estranged from our friend group as he thought?-” This time it’s my turn to interrupt him, this rambling has gone on for far too long. 

“Henry, get to the point. My patience is wearing quite thin, while I appreciate you going through what very well sounds like your own personal circle of hell to keep an eye on that menace of a man, I would very much like to know if we are all going to get caught because of that fool’s inability to keep his mouth shut in a foreign country or not.”

“I’m getting there.” He snaps. The third cigarette meets the previous’ fate, being lit and sitting between his lips. I try my best not to panic as he recounts about a German overhearing Bunny talk about what happened then following them, waiting for them by the fountain near their hotel. Anxiety nestles in me with each word that flies out of his lips, it doesn’t abandon me for a moment while he confesses that now he’s left Bunny alone in Italy without a note.

With the way my head spins I’m unable to reach the couch and I just sit on the floor. 

Henry knows Bunny better than anyone else, and he’s assured me countless times that he’d never go to the police, but I can’t help but wonder: if that German man found his way to Bunny, perhaps while he’s drunk in some italian bar, what are the chances that the truth would be out and we behind bars before we can plead ‘not guilty’?

“You think you could fix this?” My voice is barely above a whisper, I don’t think I even hear it over the sound of my blood thumping in my ears. When his head moves in a nod, mine mirrors it. “It all depends on waiting for the right opportunity.” For the first time in my life, his words sound completely disconnected from reality after he adds, “It depends on how far we’re willing to go, as well.” 

I can’t bring myself to glance at his eyes, if at first I delighted myself in being the one to willingly drown into the depth of his focus, meeting his divine stare feels borderline blasphemous now. Is the way my blood is freezing in my veins because my mind is spiraling into madness, or have I passed on as well? If I turn my head to the side and lower my gaze will I find a mauled farmer welcoming into the world of the dead? For a split second, when my hands come into view, I’m sure they’re stained red up to the end of my forearm; the water I used to wash my dishes did nothing to wash away the guilt that apparently only I, in my friend group, feel. Invisible, imperceptible droplets of what I know is blood, stains my carpet. There’s no washing it off. I could bathe in the holiest of waters, scrub my skin until it turned the very same color of what I want to rinse off of me and it still would be for naught.

Lucky for me, my holy salvation undoes the curse I’ve cast upon myself with just a call of my name. “I said I could fix it. Do not doubt me.” My hands clench, I feel my muscles tense as soon as I realize that what he accuses me is indeed true, I am doubting him. 

No words are able to make it through the lump in my throat. With what little strength I can gather I force my legs to stand straight after I lift myself off the ground. “I’m not doubting you,” I lie, “I just think this entire ordeal has developed into something way bigger than us all.” 

“So you don’t understand, then.” He shakes his head, strands of hair the color of raven wings fall onto his forehead, his glasses sit precariously low on the bridge of his nose.  “I don't, Henry. I really don’t,” My panic is slowly shaping itself into something else, something I am familiar with and that I had stored away as soon as Henry’s healing salve was rubbed on my sinful body, “There’s a lot I don’t understand at this exact time.”

He doesn’reply. He silently lights up the last cigarette, the upside down one, the one I was saving for last and after a couple of clouds of smoke are created into existence he extends his hand to me: offering me my own lucky cigarette. I accept it. Smoke fills my lungs and burns my throat while I pace back and forth, letting ash fall to my feet.

It’s not enough, just one isn’t enough to calm the nerves that threaten to take over me. Inadvertently stubbing my smoke in my hardwood coffee table instead then into the ashtray an unstable exhale escapes me.

Henry doesn’t move, not one of his muscles has even remotely twitched in the time I took smoking. 

It is impossible to think in this scenario and in what feels like the blink of an eye, there’s a cold bottle in my hand, burgundy wine flows into a clean glass, it doesn’t settle into it for a second before it makes its way down my throat, the fruitiness and sweetness of it tickles me. In my rush, it spills down my lips  and leaves a maroon spot, as small as a cherry, on my shirt.

“I want my life back,” I pathetically confide in him, this time taking a seat next to him, “I am sick and tired of living in fear of the authorities showing up at my doorstep.” A miniscule yet expanding part of me outright believes the murder we committed is a sin not even Henry can absolve. 

“You think I don’t feel guilty, also?” He began, taking the empty glass out of my hands and pouring himself a drink before pointing his finger at me, “We are human. Of course I feel bad for eradicating a man’s life, but certainly not enough to be distraught over it like you are.” It makes me feel wrong, being so agitated over something he swears he can fix.

“It’s not guilt that I feel, it’s fear. I am terrified every morning when I wake up that I am going to be in handcuffs in a prison cell by the end of the day.”

“You do not know Bunny as well as I do. He won’t say anything.”

“You say that, but you’re just a man. You’re not an all-seeing creature. You don’t know every small variable that could cause him to out us all.” I’d never thought I’d say it out loud. ‘You’re just a man’. It felt like blasphemy to even think of Henry as anything but a deity, jabbing his mortality right in his face was something that I had never even imagined doing. I didn’t think it would come to this.

“I see what this is.” The way he said that, it resembled a lighting flung from Olympus, ready to strike an unaware, disrespectful follower of the gods. “You’re not guilty and you’re not scared of Bun telling anyone. What you’re scared of is repercussions.”

"That's not-"

"Not true? Is that what you're going to say? Because it sure sounds like it is. You don't believe I could find a solution." Never has a voice so calm yet so deadly existed.

"I'm just saying, what if you can't? What if none of us can?" I keep seeing it like I'm reading from a book set in the future, like the Oracle of Delphi is miraculously inhabiting my body. "Henry, I don't think there's time to wait for 'the right opportunity'. Bunny is a ticking bomb as is it."

"So what?" He spits, "Should we just kill him, as soon as we see him, without a proper plan? That would ensure his silence, wouldn't it?"

The temperature in the room drops.

"Kill him?..." Never in my life had I imagined entertaining the idea of putting an end to one of my friend's life. I might lie, in truth, if I said it didn't sound like a plausible solution. "We can't."

"Why not?”

Good question. While it sounded absurd, it was truly the only way this nightmare would come to an end. I thought of Mrs.Corcoran, Mr.Corcoran, all of Bun’s siblings and Marion. 

“It’s insanity.” I stood, backing away from him. “We are not killing Bunny. That’s final.” No matter how much it would help us, no matter how much that would ease my anxiety in the moment, I couldn’t. It is likely that my expression betrayed my words, for Henry’s next words shot a spear through me. Being in his presence was insufferable, now.

He hissed as he spoke, “Oh, would you quit the wounded bird act, for just a moment of your life?” He lifted himself off the couch, following me as I evaded his gaze by walking away into my kitchen. “What are you trying to prove? Your acting like this won’t bring back that man in the countryside, nothing will ever bring him back.” 

“I don’t want to bring him back! You’re so deep into your own view of life that you're refusing to see my side!”

“Don’t raise your voice at me.” I hadn’t even noticed my loud volume, “Nothing can please you, I swear. You’re in no way the single victim of what transpired in that field. Yes, your hands were stained red that night, but you’re not the only one: Camilla still has nightmares about it, Francis as well and Charles, he will never forget that bloody bite on his arm. You’re not a saint, you were there with us drenched in blood, no matter how much you’d like to imagine the contrary. ”

My clenched fists trembled at my sides, with my back metaphorically against a wall of needles there was not a single thing I could do. My time was slipping away from under my fingers, crumbling into sand and being carried into a faraway land, never to be seen again. “But killing our friend is… it feels so wrong.”

“Try not to see it as murder.” To my surprise his steady hands held mine until they stopped shaking, “Look at me, look me in the eyes,” he held my face with one of his hands, slightly squeezing both my cheeks to stop me from looking away, “It’s not murder,” His whisper was slow and soft, deep down it sounded as if he was trying to convince an invisible audience and not me, "Think of it as a redistribution of matter, alright? You’re calling him friend, but was he behaving like one when he would throw out references to our misdeed? Was he a friend when he would pick up the phone and pretend to call the tips number on the daily paper?” 

“You’re going mental Henry. There is not a single way in hell you’re seriously saying these words. If in the right situation I were in Bunny’s place, would you conspire against me, too?”  I asked, knowing what he would say, “You wouldn’t be half as troubling as Bun is.” That was confirmation enough. 

That night in the country, the only thing that was somewhat planned was the bacchanal, being drowned in what can only be described as the epitome of blissful, dionysian madness. Mauling an innocent man wasn’t planned, it was a tragedy. This, on the other hand, is a plan to get rid of Bunny. The one man that could be described as Henry’s best friend, there was a time where one would not ever be seen in public without the other.

“I don’t recognize you.”

“You don’t need to. You just follow my lead and it will all be okay. I promise you, we’ll fix it. I’ll fix it. Don’t stray away from me, don’t make us fight over something like this, alright?” 

Hours after this conversation, when he’s fast asleep in my bed and I’m staring at his eyelashes, I want nothing more than for this torment to reach an end.  “Does it all mean anything to you? Or is it all momentary until divine punishment wipes all off the face of the Earth?” My whisper is met with no answer on his end, his soft breathing for the time being placates my doubts. This is enough.

[cakerybakery]

Adamsapple harvest day one short and horny Apple picking

Lucifer egged Adam on into climbing into the apple tree with him. The old tree was twisted and tall. The fallen angel grumbled but he’d do pretty much anything if you called him a pussy.

“Yeah, I’m not going to fit.” Lucifer was encouraging him to climb higher, between a couple branches.

“Cause you let yourself go. Guess I was right, you are a pussy. Can’t even handle a little tree climbing to get the best fruit at the heart of this old girl.”

“Fuck you.” He hauled himself up and wedged himself between the branches, pushing and tugging until he couldn’t move either way. Adam was stuck.

“Fuck! God fuck! Dammit it! Lucifer, you asshole, I’m fucking stuck. I told you I wasn’t going to fit.”

The shook the branch and apples rained down.

“Oh, I knew you wouldn’t fit.” He easily walked along the branches, hopping from limb to limb in his bare hooves until he was back below the branches Adam was stuck on.

Adam swore up a storm. Cursing at Lucifer for tricking him again.

Lucifer lifted the robe and Adam kicked at him, “hey! Fuck off! What are you doing?”

“This.” Lucifer smirked as he pulled Adam’s pants down and took the soft cock in his mouth.

Adam moaned but still told him to fuck off.

“You sure about that?” Lucifer asked pulling off. “Your cock seems to like it in my mouth.”

He left Adam dangling there, pants around his ankles, his now unholy robes being the only thing keeping his modesty. Lucifer picked an apple off a branch and bit into the juice fruit. He climbed back up to Adam’s face as he took another bite. “What do you say?” Lucifer licked the juices from his chin with his long serpent tongue. “I can deep throat you, even at the size I know you are hard.” He unhinged his jaw and swallowed the rest of the apple whole.

Adam stared at Lucifer’s mouth. “The whole fucking thing?”

The first humans were giants, it came with a giant cock. He knew from Adam’s complaints as he bragged that Eve was the only one who could handle sucking on his dick, none of the heaven or hell born woman could handle all of him and Adam was dying to be deep throated again.

“Fine.” Adam agreed. “But your bitch mouth needs to swallow all of me. I want your face in my pubes as I cum.”

“Oh don’t worry. That’s not a problem. I can hold my breath for almost an hour. But afterwards I’m going to fuck your ass.” Lucifer moved back down even as Adam started to protest.

“Whoa. No. No deal.” Adam moaned as Lucifer did what he said he would and swallowed Adam’s hardening cock to the root. The cock grew in his mouth and Adam started swearing again. “Fine! Fuck! Just keep doing that.”

Lucifer’s tongue was long and dexterous. It could jerk Adam’s dick off with Lucifer’s face planted firmly in Adam’s pubic hair. He never moved his face, not even as the dick grew thicker and longer. Pushing itself down Lucifer’s throat.

Soon Adam was a muttering, swearing, mess as Lucifer’s tongue jerked him off and Lucifer constricted his throat rhythmically to keep a sort of pleasant squeezing along Adam’s cock.

Adam was going close if the mindless fuckfuckfuck coming from his mouth was any indication.

The dick throbbed and pulsed hard as Adam moaned. Lucifer kept going, jerking and constricting until Adam moaned that he was done, to stop.

Lucifer pulled off. “Such a same I couldn’t taste you.” Lucifer gave Adam’s heavy balls a lick. “Next time.”

“You’re a fucking pervert, you know that?”

Lucifer just bummed in agreement and moved around to Adam’s other side.

“You ready, baby?”

“Yeah. Fuck. It’ll have been worth it for that blow job.”

Lucifer slipped his tongue into Adam’s tight hole and he squealed. Probing until he found Adam’s joy button and he was making a racket again of saying god’s name in vain and swearing.

“Oh god! Oh god! Oh fuck me!”

Getting his fingers involved he stretched Adam’s ass as he would need it.

Lilith had been a tall woman and needed a partner with a particularly large cock to satisfy her. Eve had been the same. Adam shouldn’t be any different.

Lucifer could practically fist Adam by the time he was done prepping the man. He’d played with the man’s prostate until Adam came dry.

Sinking his dick into Adam’s hole it was still rather tight and Adam could only whimper as he swore a soft, “oh god it’s so big.”

He fucked Adam fast and hard, only taking his own pleasure from the worn out ex-angel.

Lucifer grunted Adam’s name and told him what a good little bitch he was for taking all of him as he came.

Staying inside Adam for a moment Lucifer picked another apple. Pulling out Lucifer enjoyed the sight of Adam’s throughly fucked ass, then he pressed the apple inside of Adam, pulled Adam’s pants back up and teleported them back to Adam’s room.

Adam was barely awake. From the tree climbing, the blowjob, and the ass fucking, Adam was tired.

“You did such a good job today.” Lucifer praised Adam as he left the man face down and ass in the air. “I thought you deserved the sweetest apple from the tree.”

He rubbed Adam’s abused hole through his jeans and Adam whimpered, his eyes going a little foggy as he started to drift off.

“Gotta keep you plugged somehow. Don’t want you leaking your king’s cum all over the place.” Lucifer rubbed a little harder to keep Adam from passing out just yet. “I’ll come back later and take it out for you.” He cast a spell on the apple. “After all, you won’t be able to remove it yourself.”

[edosianorchids901]

Let Your Heart Decide

Ace Omens Hugfest 2024 prompt - "a clinging hug"

Until a moment ago, Aziraphale had been quite happily splashing about in the river shallows and watching the ducks. Enjoying himself thoroughly, quite at peace and hoping to stay that way for some time.

As soon as he heard the screams, though, he headed for the riverbank. Perhaps someone was injured and needed healing. It would be nice to help.

Goodness, though, that was rather a lot of raised voices! He clambered out onto the bank, water dripping from his robes, and set off towards the shouting.

It seemed as if half the little village was shouting, all rushing across the sand, many waving spears. And in front of them, slithering desperately, was a large black and red serpent.

“Oh!” Aziraphale cried, rushing forward. “Oh, I say, there’s no need—”

Five spears jabbed towards Crawley. Two missed. Three didn’t.

Crawley screamed as the spears pierced him, a terrible noise that stopped the villagers in their tracks.

“Oh no!” Aziraphale rushed forward towards the writhing mass of pinned coils and got between him and the villagers. “Stop, stop! You mustn’t do this!”

More spears raised. “This thing was near our village!” one of the humans shouted. “It wanted to eat our livestock, our children!”

“Oh, no. I’m quite sure he didn’t.” Aziraphale didn’t back down, not even when the spears angled in his direction. The thought of doing so, of leaving even a demon to be hurt, was absolutely unbearable. “Look, just stop. I’ll tend to the snake, and you can go back to your homes and do… whatever you do. Make more nice pots, tend to your sheep, doesn’t that sound lovely?”

“We want to kill the snake!”

“No, you certainly don’t,” Aziraphale said, this time imbuing his voice with a trace of Heaven’s power. Guilt wrenched at him for the misuse, but it didn’t stop him. “You want to go back home, and… be loving and kind to all living things. Go on, now.”

Slowly, the humans turned and shuffled away. They grumbled amongst themselves as they went, casting unfriendly glances back. But at least they went.

Aziraphale waited until they were at a distance, then twisted around and dropped to his knees in the bloody sand. Crawley wheezed, tongue dangling from his open mouth, eyes glassy. “Oh, oh, you poor dear. Let me get these spears out of you, easy now.”

He rested his hand on Crawley’s heaving side, scales damp with blood, and drew out the first of the spears. Crawley gave another wheezing cry, his coils wriggling weakly.

“It’s all right, we’ll be done in no time at all.” Aziraphale wasn’t at all certain it was all right. Crawley was bleeding very badly, and unusually quiet aside from the noises of pain. What if it was already too late?

It vaguely occurred to Aziraphale again that he absolutely should not be doing this. He did it anyway.

After all, if humans must be kind and loving to all living things, that was even more vital for an angel. Crowley was a living thing, one of God’s creations even if an abandoned one. Therefore, it made perfect sense to heal him.

“There,” he murmured, smoothing away the last of the wounds and then miracling away the blood. Crawley still hadn’t spoken, just lying there limp in the sand. “Crawley? Are you okay?”

Crawley’s tongue flicked again. “Yesss,” he finally said, voice weak. “I… thought they were gonna dissscorporate me.”

“I thought they were too. But I couldn’t allow that to happen.” He tried very hard not to think about how inappropriate it was to rescue a demon. “You’re all patched up now, just take it easy, try not to move too quickly—”

Quite abruptly, Crawley moved rather a lot. He collided with Aziraphale’s chest and coiled around him, trembling, clinging to him.

“Oh!” Aziraphale automatically hugged the coils close, stroking Crawley’s scales. “There now, shh. It’s quite all right. You’re all right.”

Crawley didn’t answer, just shivering. He wound around Aziraphale, almost constricting, and hid his face in the folds of Aziraphale’s cream robes.

“Shhh, I’m here,” Aziraphale murmured, settling back in the sand. “I have you. I won’t let anything happen to you, Crawley.”

“Don’t understand why.” Crawley shuddered again, and Aziraphale cooed as he stroked the scales. “M’ a demon. Why would you sssave me?”

“Um. Well.” Aziraphale scrambled for an excuse, and fell back on the one he’d used earlier. “I-I am an angel, after all. A being of love. It’s only right that I care for you.”

Crawley lapsed into silence again, just tightening his coils. Aziraphale held him, humming quietly, and waited.

Finally, Crawley spoke again. “I wasn’t trying to eat their kidsss or sheep or anything. I was just ssssunning.”

“I know. Well, I didn’t know about the sunning, but I know you didn’t intend anyone harm.” Although Aziraphale wasn’t entirely sure *why* he knew that. He ought to always suspect a demon of doing harm. But somehow, looking at the trembling serpent, he simply couldn’t suspect that. “Perhaps you shouldn’t sun near humans again? It doesn’t seem very safe.”

Crawley hissed in agreement. “Definitely not sssunning near humans again. Really didn’t go well.”

“Not very, no.” Another idea occurred to Aziraphale, an urge he should not give into. He gave in anyway. “You’re quite welcome to sun near me, you know. I’d be happy to watch over you.”

“Really?” Coils sliding around Aziraphale’s arm, Crawley adjusted to gaze up at him, golden eyes curious. “You really do care, don’t you?”

“I said I did, didn’t I?” Aziraphale ignored the pit of guilt still looming below him. “Angels ought to care about everyone. That’s all there is to it.”

Crawley was silent again, as if considering that. Then, very quietly, he said, “I didn’t think *anyone* could care about me. Not after I Fell.”

The pain in his voice wrenched at Aziraphale’s heart. He wrapped his arms more securely around Crawley’s coils, hugging him close. “Well, I do. And you’re quite welcome to cling to me for as long as you like.”

“Demonsss don’t cling,” Crawley grumbled.

Aziraphale snorted softly, but he didn’t argue. He simply stayed with the frightened serpent, holding him gently. And now, he didn’t feel the slightest bit of guilt over extending kindness.

[sensei-venus]

Serpent-Cide (3/?)

(Part One|Part Two|Part Three|TBA|)

(Unedited) (Switches POV’s a lot in this chapter, Sweet Pea is a little shit, Sweet Pea is big boy 6’3 and I won't let y'all forget that😈, Reader is having a moment y'all.)

Sweet Pea was a mess.

I mean that in a bad way, not the cute fun way that most people say it when talking about someone.

I mean he was a mess, a walking nightmare and possibly a live train wreck. Being forced to show him around was one of the worst things that could have happened to me. I had way better things to do then stay with him. At this point it was almost like babysitting. If babysitting included walking around school with a MAN, not a boy, a man who was bigger then half the student body.

Not only was he huge but he also had a mouth on him. While most of the time he was quiet, the other half he was not. He chose to quietly pick and mess with anyone and anything he chose. If something caught his eye at just the right time, he was going of his way to mess with it. If it was a person, he was digging at them. Harassing them for a moment before pulling away and walking off.

Laughing and snickering at something. It was very apparent that he knew when to shut his mouth, and sometimes he didn't which dug into my nerves.

Just like his voice, his verbal altercations were deep and quick. His comebacks were sharp and were always on the tip of his tongue. He knew how to get on someone's bad side at the drop of a hat. I felt like I was extremely lucky because he didn't get himself into too much shit.

He loomed over me as we walked the halls. At first I didn't really understand what he was doing. I thought he would walk next to me to try and show some kind of dominance, like he didn't need me to help him around the school. His outburst earlier that day made me feel like he would want to one-up me, in his own way. Maybe he would even jump ahead of me and try to get to his class quicker. That wasn't the case as we walked to our first period.

He decided he was going to try and walk behind me the whole way there.

Almost trying to ride my ass the whole time. I swear he almost stepped on the back of my shoes a few times. I tried my best not to look back at him, feeling like that might piss him off or earn me some other kind of outlash like before. The whole time I could feel his presence behind me. It felt like pin pricks along my back which made me twitch a little in my step. Was he doing it on purpose I had no idea. But it was slowly rubbing me the wrong way. I

didn't know how long I could take it.

“So when's lunch? I'm already starting to get bored of this place.” Sweet Pea's voice echoed from behind me as he kicked at my seat.

I could feel my teeth grind in the back of my mouth.

We were about three periods at this point. I could tell he was already starting to lose what little focus he had. Most people probably couldn't tell if not for his loud complaining. Most people would see it as him complaining, to me he was just whining. That's all he had done all three classes, it didn't help that he kept trying to sit as close to me as possible.

I had no idea why seeing as all he did was whine.

I notice very quickly his little quirks, the ones that showed as he started to fall down the hole of boredom.

The way his foot would tap ever so slightly, the jiggle of his leg. He would pick at his knuckles to the point he had small scratches, barely drawing blood. They were pinkish and red by the end of second period. I honestly wondered if he even noticed it, if he felt his nails dig into his own skin. I was a little surprised when I watched his dig his nails into the set of dog tags he wears around his neck.

At some point I was scared he was going to try and put them in his mouth like a child. Luckily he didn't and only rubbed his nails and fingertips along the old metal plates.

Suddenly I heard a loud sound of popping from behind me. I felt my eyes twitch.

He was popping his knuckles.

I felt my face grow a little flushed. Although I had noticed the marks on his knuckles, I hadn't really taken a moment to look at his hands very well. I wonder what they looked like. I could only imagine they matched his body. Large and stronger to match his towering frame. He wasn't overly bulky but more so tall and thick muscles.

Now I felt even worse, why was I trying to think about his possible muscles under that stupid black t-shirt and serpent jacket.

I almost snapped the poor pencil in my hand.

“Helllloooo??” his voice boomed.

“When the bell rings, God can you shut up for five minutes.” I hissed, not even trying to turn around to look at him. I could feel his eyes burning into the back of my skull at this point. I could almost feel the way his foot slowly came to a stop. The movement dying down in seconds. I felt him before I could hear him. The breathing on my neck, right by my ear.

“So is the food here good or it just as shitty as Southside High-”

The sound of the shrill bell rang through the class. He ever so slightly pulled back. Leaving only warm breath fanning over my ear for a few seconds. Students hurried to grab their things and rush out of the cramped classroom. The teacher tried her best to slow them down but failed. Most of them piled out of the room, talking loudly and pushing each other to leave.

Quickly I packed my stuff away in my bag before turning around to find Sweet Pea already ready to go. His dark eyes lazily watch me as I shove my bag up onto my shoulder. We stare at each other for a good minute, until I realize he's waiting for me to walk in front of him.

Walking out of the room and make our way down to the lunch room. Sweet Pea is hot on my trail the whole time.

The hallway was usually one of the worst parts of my day as I would have to wade through the multiple crowds. Today seems a little better, most likely due to Sweet Pea’s presence. People slowly make way for him as he walks closer to me. For once I don't mind the way he sticks close to my back. It's almost like the whole hallway parts just for him.

“They like this every day or is it just because it's me?” he asks as we move passed the sea of judgmental eyes. The sudden urge to crack a joke came up but soon stopped.

“I wish. Maybe if they always acted like this I wouldn't hate coming down this hallway.” I wanted to tell him the truth. Going down this hallway every day was excruciating most of the time. If you were lucky no one would notice you, meaning you could get around everyone. Most days you were stuck or caught by some of the jocks or maybe one of the cheerleaders.

Sometimes it was just shoves and pushes. Other times it was getting your books or bag thrown in a garbage can on a whim.

Worst even, getting beat on by someone bigger than you for a laugh.

I stopped at that you thought as we made our way into to lunch room. It was packed with both the old and new students trying to get in line to get food. Almost all the tables were completely filled. My eyes were trained on the crowd of students as we both stood in line. Trying to spot the tale tale top of a special beanie. Not seeing it I could only guess that Jughead had made his way outside to grab a table.

The line for food slowly started to go down as the minutes ticked by. Sweet Pea was next to me as we grabbed our lunches. He stuffed his plate full of just about everything the lunch line was offering. I didn't question it with how big the guy was. His height factor reflects how much he needs to keep up with his growth.

We made our way out of the lone with no issue and walked outside towards some of the outdoor tables.

Breathing a sigh of relief I spotted Jughead and his little group. No surprise that none of the original vroho was sitting at the table with him, just Tori and Fang. Sweet Pea passed me, slamming his tray down next to Fang with a loud crash. Fang flinched a little which made Sweet Pea laugh and slap him on the shoulder hard, making him rock a little. Both of them chuckled as Sweet Pea finally sat down. Jughead looked at the two before turning his gaze to me.

I gave a small wave before turning around and heading inside.

The quiet uncrowded library was calling my name.

—————————

Sweet Pea didn't really know what to think about Reader at first.

For a split second, he felt just a little bad about yelling at her when they first met. But walking into that school was hard, being surrounded by northsiders who wanted all of them dead. It didn't even matter if they were serpents or not they were still southsiders. They where all still on the northsiders shit list in his mind.

Maybe that's why when she approached Jughead he got defensive.

He had forgotten that Jughead went to school here, not everyone had a issue with him. Maybe the pack of serpents, but not once loved Jughead.

In that moment it didn't matter that she was smaller, chubbier and maybe just a little cute. She was still a northsider deciding to wall up to them. Her stance was lazy as she stood in front of Jughead, moments passed and he just snapped. Getting into her face and calling her out.

When she snapped right back at him he felt his heart jump.

_____________________________________

“Shes not coming over here is she?” Sweet Pea remarked as he looked to Jughead.

The girl never made her way over to them, he turned a little to watch her walk away and back into the school. His eyes briefly watched her figure disappear behind the large lunchroom doors. He turned back to the table to find Jugheas still gazing back at the doors, his eyes squinted.

“Reader would rather…..Reader is in her own little world of strange.” he words were bland and almost emotionless. That caused one of the boys eyebrows to raise. He stuffed a fry in his mouth as Fang replied “ Im getting the feeling she doesn't like us that much? It's not like I'm shocked or anything, I'm just stating the obvious here.” he laughs. Toni rolls her eyes at him and sits back a little.

Sweet Pea looked up at him as he chewed his food, with a full mouth he said “So she's a weirdo? Didn't know northsiders had them too, kinda figured you guys would weed them out or something.” he scooped up a fat glob of ketchup with his fries. Toni shrugged “ Dont want to sound like a downer but I agree with Sweets on this.” Fang nodded along side her. Jughead let out a small sigh. His eyes fully coming back into focus with them.

“Listen Reader just has her own thing going on. She's one of the only people I know in this school that genuinely doesn't like being around people, in others business for that matter. She doesn't like messing with people so long as they don't mess with her. She's crafty too, I'll tell you that.

Toni raised a brow and smirked, she poked the boy in his side.

“Does Jug have a little crush??” she almost giggled a little to go along with her sarcastic statement.

Jughead rolled his eyes “On Reader? No way, that would involve her letting me get in her space- shit even taking her time of day. I don't think she's ever let anyone even think about having a crush on her. You would actually have to know her to do all that.” he grimaced a little. Thinking about all the times the chubby girl had ditched him, snuck away from him, or straight up blew him off to go do something else.

Multiple times he asked for her help with paper while in the library together. If he asked to do them with her she refused, the next day she would just bring him a fully edited paper before wandering back off to who knows where. She was hardly ever up front and would rather stay in the shadows. Never to be looked upon, never asked to be anyone life lifeline.

“That's funny seeing as I've been up her ass all day during classes.” Sweet Pea smirked. He knew he was getting on the girl's nerves. He was actually enjoying it a little. Scratching at his neck a little he found Jughead just staring at him. Eyes were slightly wide as if he was in some kind of disbelief. Something inside him felt good to see the uptight guy so silently stunned.

“I thought I told you not to mess with her.”

“I did! Kinda? I couldn't help but mess with her just a little bit okay? Honestly I feel like you overdoing it when talking about her. I have only been around her for like half the day and she hasn't acted like anything you saying. Is she Moody? Oh yeah definitely. But is she so fidgety that she runs away at the slight poke? Nah. She is a pushover.” he rolled his eyes at the newest serpent. The or eyes meet for a short period of time.

Jughead was ever so slightly surprised at the sudden turn of events.

Reader was not a pushover by any means.

“All she did was hiss at me, like a pissed-off cat when I started bugging her. She didn't make any attempt to leave or ditch me. Yeah, she didn't talk to me unless I got her to but still. She wasn't a complete shut-in around me. And fuck man she's sarcastic. She's like you but on steroids.” he chuckled a little after swallowing a big bit of his food.

Jughead scoffed a little as he looked back at the school.

“Well if that's the case, we may have a new advantage at this school.”

The others all looked back at him.

Sweet Pea stopped eating for a moment, his eyes moving from Jug to slowly drifting to the school. His eyes followed the other boy's gaze.

Only time would tell what Jughead meant by that.

[blueberrypancakesworld]

A hope for recognition and deceit

Sir Pentious x fem!reader

warning : fluff, comfort, hug, mention of violence and death (it's hell so yeah)

Summary : After another defeat at the hands of Angeldust and Cherri Bomb, Sir Pentious finds himself in the garbage of hell where he is surprisingly offered help that doesn't suck?

Info : So this cute fluffy one-shot is for @thatsthewrongwallcraig it was very nice to write for him very gladly more and again. Have fun with our little sweet sir snake and everyone else too ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The loud beeping and noises of little creatures running around could be heard, smoke was coming out of every place where the bullets of the guns had destroyed the airship and flames covered the airship like a second layer.

The home-made technology was going crazy, not reacting as it should and the ship was about to hit the bottom of hell in a few minutes.

But in this chaos stood Sir Pentious with folded arms and a disdainful expression, who neither listened to the questions and shouts of his little helpers nor seemed to be aware of anything and seemed to be done with all this. ,,Boss! We're about to crack like an egg!" shouted one of his little helpers, shaking his superior's coat and trying to convince the snake demon to get out of here somehow.

The serpent's tongue came out from between the lips behind which were the long fangs, an annoyed hiss that became a weary hiss. The ,,Well then, all of Boord's men…a new plan is coming!" he exclaimed, striking an almost heroic pose and grabbing his little egg-like subordinates before dashing for the exit. But as bad luck would have it, just as he was about to jump out, the airship collided with the ground and he hit the ground with a thud, directly onto something soft and smelly.

,,Oh no, we're dead," he heard the first wail of his egg boys, who apparently in their naivety thought they had died, and with a sigh the demon stood up and looked disparagingly at the garbage dump.

,,No, you idiots, we're still in hell…let's go back to the-" he venomed and was about to go to his airship when it made one last explosion and a cloud of smoke came towards him, coloring him completely black. Just as he was about to let out a frustrated scream, he suddenly heard footsteps and a friendly voice asking him, ,,Do you need help?".

A question that almost made him laugh out loud and couldn't have been more inappropriate. This was fucking hell and not a mercy seat where everyone got a cookie for every shot.

,,No, I don't," he protested and was about to slap her hand away when he tripped over a bin liner and landed at her feet, making her smile. ,,I think so, come on, it looks like you need a shower," she said and pulled him back onto his snake tail, seeing his astonishment and simply dragging him behind her.

Pentious shcien was confused and wanted to get away but the demoness with the twisted horns like a goat and the poisonous green eyes wouldn't let him.

,,You really insist," he muttered and saw her nod as they walked through the streets for a moment and Sir Pentious recognized the district they were in. ,,Thank you misss" he mumbled not knowing why it felt right to say thank you and felt his snake tail bob slightly.

Far away from the hotel but probably better for the moment. ,,Miss, that's not necessary, I-" he tried enruet but by then she had already pulled him in and pushed him into her apartment. ,,Not at all, I'm happy to help," she said and he saw her smile behind the slightly pointed teeth that looked like his.

A glance at his helpers, however, let him know that they were comfortable and were already looking at the furnishings and having fun. ,,Please, I'll make some tea and you freshen up there, how about that?" she asked, tilting her head slightly and for a moment he thought he saw her green eyes light up.

,,Please, I'll make some tea and you freshen up there, how about that?" she asked, tilting her head slightly and for a moment he thought he saw her green eyes light up.

He thought for a moment but when he still smelled the burnt smell on him, which was actually topped by a more sublime odor, he also knew it was time. ,,Thank you and a herbal tea if you can miss" he asked giving her something like a small smile that made his fangs flash before the snake demon disappeared into the bathroom and water could be heard.

While the demon went under the sporadic shower with a towel that seemed halfway unused, the water boiled on the demoness's hand, who simply heated the kettle with her power and looked curiously at the little eggs while the opening and closing of a door was not heard by anyone.

When the tea was slowly ready and the tea bags were giving off a dark, slightly greenish color, the goat-like demoness was already blowing and was pleased to see her guest emerge from the bath in much better shape.

,,Now you're back to your old self," she said and handed him his cup, which he took somewhat reluctantly, his claws touching her hand and it seemed somehow hotter than any hellfire.

,,Thank you, yes, the shower was necessary," he admitted to her, blowing lightly and they both drank the first sip, which turned into a pleasant sigh. ,,Now you look like a true lord again," she admitted after a brief moment of swaying and he saw her turn away from him but could feel the warmth she gave off.

,,Well, I am, you saved the one and only Sir Pentious, my dear," he said and placed his claw on her hand for a moment, a brief moment between them before he hastily withdrew his hand, surprised and embarrassed at what he had done, and they both drank their tea again.

An ongoing conversation here and there about his actions, her kindness and the place in hell. But the time was good, so much so that she suddenly, embarrassed, pulled out a photo, ,,I took this when you attacked the brothel-could you…sign it?" she asked and Sir Pentious felt proud to have such an admirer in his chest. That she admired him because she perceived that there was someone who cared about him.

,,But of course, miss, I'd love to," he had replied with a smile before taking the pen she had drawn and leaving his sweeping neat handwriting on the picture, seeing how she smiled and was glad to have a fan, an admirer and another nice one.

,,Thank you that means a lot to me," she said and the snake demon smiled for a moment before looking out the cracked window to see that another "day" was dawning and hell would soon be plunged back into chaos worse than the last.

,,I think I should get going…an airship doesn't build itself, does it?" he asked to his helpers, who moved their heads in different directions and Pentious rolled his eyes.

She took the cup from him and made an inviting motion towards her door, ,,My door is always open…for the biggest demon in hell," she said and he nodded, putting his hand on the knob as he felt her embrace, brief yet fervent, which he returned almost reflexively.

,,And my airship for a round trip and a few good pictures misss" he waved goodbye to her as the door closed behind him and the demon walked down the street with his little helpers.

Not hearing the giggles as the green-eyed demon simply took the purse in her hands out of his jacket in a hug, another robbery of thousands but even if it was worth it her gaze softened and a warmth stole into her gaze as she saw the photo and hugged it to herself...maybe she wouldn't rob him the next time they met, a shared airship ride would be all the nicer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[novankenn]

Son of the Serpent (9)

/==/ Table of Contents /==/

Jaune sat on his bed, still in his nightclothes, actually laughing as he played with the Vacuo Death Viper without a care in the world. Which of course made his team very apprehensive. Each one waiting for the moment when the vile creature would attack their team leader.

"Guts, there is nothing to worry about."

"Says you." Nora responded, a desk chair clasped in her hands, ready to be used as a makeshift hammer.

"Jaune could you please?" Pyrrha whimpered. The invincible girl not being a fan of snakes, or for that matter spiders, rats or mice.

"You want to hold her?" Jaune asked, a warm smile on his lips as he held the deadly creature out towards his friends.

"I'll pass." Ren replied, "You said your mother is here? I take it because of the... snake?"

"Yes. This one is usually perched about her neck. It was her first tattoo, much like how the Valean Pit-Viper tattoo about my neck and shoulders was mine."

To accentuate the point, Jaune smiled and suddenly from around the collar of his t-shirt the scaled head of another serpent appeared. It slithered out from under his shirt and coiled about his shoulders, even going so far as to affectionately nuzzle Jaune's cheek.

The Death Viper, not to be out done, scaled Jaune's extended arms, and faced off against the Pit-Viper. The pair of serpents rose, their eyes starting at each other. Their forked tongues flicking in and out of their mouths, tasting the air.

Ren, Nora, and Pyrrha gasped and froze as the pair of venomous snakes both opened their mouths, exposing gleaming fangs.

"Are you guys tired?" Jaune asked as the pair of snakes, "That was a couple of big yawns there."

"Yawns?" his trio of teammates asked, utterly stunned, as Jaune lifted both serpents casually from around his neck and laid them on the bed.

The Pit-Viper coiled tightly upon itself, with the slightly larger Death Viper coiling around it, ending by laying its head over the neck of the smaller... if his friends didn't know better... it looked almost as if the pair of vile beasts were cuddling.

But before anyone could make a comment, there was a series of knocks upon the door. The slightly unnerved trio of Jaune's teammates stepped away from the door, just enough for Pyrrha to answer it.

“Oh, Professor Goodwitch, and?” Pyrrha eyed the woman standing next to the Deputy Headmistress. She had an air of authority much like Goodwitch had, but unlike the Professor’s aura... this woman’s was more sinister.

“Mom.” Jaune greeted the woman, who eyed up Pyrrha for a moment before stepping past and into the room… uninvited.

“Jaune.”

“Mom?” Nora asked, looking at Ren, “I thought she’d be blond?”

“So did I.” Pyrrha added.

“Well, Mrs Arc I have escorted you to your son, I shall take my…”

“I require access to a room with a sparing circle.” Benisato commented out loud. “Is there such a place available?”

“Mom?”

“Jaune, you ran from home. Your sisters were in tears. Your father was a nervous wreck…”

“You don’t und…”

SMACK!

“Do NOT tell me I don’t understand! Your father and I did not suffer all that horror in the frontier so you could be a stupid little shit and go and get yourself killed because you wanted to be a HERO!” Benisato screamed at the top of her lungs, tears forming in her eyes. “We thought we lost you! No calls, no messages! We thought you died!”

“But…”

“There is no BUT Jaune!” she continued to scream at her son, all the frustration, fear, and anger of the last several months bursting forth. “Your stupidity nearly tore your family apart!”

“I’m sorry…” Jaune responded, still holding the cheek his mother had struck with the palm of her hand. 

“Don’t…” Benisato grabbed out and hauled her taller son into a tight, almost crushing embrace. “Don't ever scare me like that again… you’re too precious to me.”

[siriusblack-the-third]

ok, any headcanons on james that compliment the ones you've done for sirius?

i absolutely loved those and i'm really curious about james

HELL YEAH LETS GO

ADHD. This dude has to be moving, fidgeting, doing something, always. It tires him, and he sleeps very soundly for a full seven hours. Doesn't wake up even for earthquakes (Sirius once did a mini earthquake spell on the dorm room floor in the middle of the night as a prank. It did not wake him.)

Wakes up at an ungodly fucking hour. He doesn't own an alarm clock (it has no effect on him), but his internal clock is set to wake him up at exactly 4:30 in the morning for quidditch practice. He is done with jogging through the entire castle, half an hour of yoga, and an hour of quidditch before 7 A.M. rolls around. Sirius calls him "a demon from muggle hell" for it.

The only one who can keep up with Sirius' intelligence. He is scarily smart, but because most of his time is invested in quidditch and pranks, nobody realises just how smart he is until the results are handed out and he's right there next to Sirius on the top of the rankings. Both of them are always exchanging ranks 1 and 2 on overall performance. It annoys Snape and Lily to no end, because those two are always exchanging ranks 3 and 4 on the list.

The definition of Reckless. If Sirius hadn't stopped him, he would probably have turned the castle to rubble in less than five minutes. This was the exact reason why people (who were in the know) were surprised when Sirius was the one that sent Snape to Moony. They had all thought it would be James' fault.

A fucking bookworm. My dude reads literally everything from mystery to romance to encyclopaedias to research papers to fucking dictionaries of different languages. Even when he doesn't speak the language, the weirdo (affectionate and derogatory).

Indian. Specifically, from Pune city, Maharashtra.

About languages, he's learnt a lot of them. The order of learning of languages, starting from his native tongue, is thus: Marathi, Sanskrit, Hindi, English, Ancient Greek, Tamil, French and Latin. He learnt the first six at home, and French and Latin from Sirius. He's good with languages.

Photographic memory. The reason he never has to study, and also the fact that he understands everything he reads on the first try.

He and Sirius both have twelve OWLs and eight NEWTs. They have Outstandings in all of them.

My dude has the widest, largest doe eyes possible. The only people who can withstand them for more than two minutes are his parents and Sirius.

Bharatanatyam dancer. Has his Visharad certificate, and genuinely enjoys dancing. Gives at least three evenings per week for dance practice to keep up his muscle memory.

Doesn't actually hate Slytherins. Neither does Sirius. Both of them have several friends from the house of Serpents, they just hate the ones that actively use Dark Magic on muggleborns, and Snape and his gang are a part of that.

Lmao the sheer arrogance in him, oh my fucking Gods—

Doesn't give a shit about the rules set by other people (unless they're set by his parents), but has a set of rules for himself that he strictly follows. No one can tell what these rules are, but he has them and he follows them. At the top of that list, there is "never betray your loved ones". He followed that one until his death.

Nevertheless, he will break every single rule. Every. Single. Rule. For Sirius. For Sirius, he will do anything, from taking care of him when he's sick to burning the world for him.

The Hat would actually have put him in Slytherin, except he had no ambitions except to cause chaos at the tiny age of eleven years. Otherwise, he's almost a perfect fit for Slytherin— determined, strong willed, cunning enough to pull difficult pranks, resourceful (because how else you gon plan epic pranks?)

He went to Gryffindor for three reasons and three reasons only: Sirius was there, he had no particular ambition, he wanted to be with Sirius.

M O T H E R H E N. Such a mother hen, but only for a select few people (the marauders, Lily, and Harry). He doesn't give a fuck about anyone else, but these are my people and if I weren't here they would literally get themselves killed put of household related incompetence how are you still alive by the Gods—

Follows ancient Vedic religion (because I do hehe)

Very very panromantic. Demisexual.

Had a crush on Sirius for a short while in fourth year, and then on Frank Longbottom in sixth year after he had one (1) glance at the older boy dressed in full Auror robes.

Loved his mother so much omg he was such a Mama's boyyy

Gave shit to Remus for looking like a professor at the tender age of fifteen, but wanted to become a Transfiguration Professor himself. He was also excellent at Potions (another reason Snape hated him) but decided ultimately that Transfiguration was his calling

Was in his last year of his Transfiguration Mastery on Samhain of 81.

Died with a Killing Curse on his lips. He was ready to cast it wandlessly, for his wife and child. Died with a Killing Curse on his lips.

[secretwhumplair]

Apprehension

936 words | Mirai and the serpent king (sequel to Prologue)

Content | Slavery, implied past and future noncon, fear

Notes | My desire to set up a sensible posting schedule vs. my craving for immediate validation: fight!

Mirai arrives in the serpent king's kingdom. It sucks to be him.

Taglist | @yet-another-heathen @echo-goes-aaa

Mirai hadn’t even realized they were already approaching the palace when they were detained.

Three armed snake people surrounded them, the soft clink of the metal scales armouring their long, long bodies not enough to have given them away before they appeared from the underbrush as if from thin air. Their breastpieces were intricately decorated, surely communicating to an informed observer their rank or purpose, but to Mirai they only meant these people were probably trained to injure and kill.

Currently, the four slavers who had eventually volunteered to deliver Mirai shrunk back from the snakes, bumping into an awkward rectangle of bodies in the middle of the narrow road, and leaving Mirai out unprotected. His handler hadn’t dropped his chain lead, so he couldn’t even run - the best thing he could think of was to fall to his knees, hoping they wouldn’t strike against the intruders immediately, hoping they would even recognize this gesture of submission.

The snake person - a knight or guard of some sort, surely - in front of him was the first of their kind he saw up close, and with the armour hiding most of their appearance, it was all he could tell they were big; their upper body the size and approximate shape of the enormous strongman he had once seen at a fair, and the serpentine body flowing from its hips going on, and on, and on.

A long, split tongue emerged from the slit down the guard’s helmet, tasting the air in the fashion of snakes.

Then they addressed the group in Illodean, as it was used throughout the continent, although their words carried a strong accent, dripping from their lips in a way that almost made them flow together into one. »Who are you, and what brings you here? Answer quickly.«

»We are - we are h-harmless traders.« The slaver’s voice was quivering. »We’ve brought a slave we would like to offer to your… king.«

The guard in front of Mirai hissed comtemplatively, and closed in on him. Mirai noticed curved claws protruding from the armoured gloves, looking perfectly fit to tear through his skin. He cowered, helpless tears springing up in his eyes, yet didn’t dare move away.

»We haven’t done him up yet,« the slaver explained quickly. »He’ll be brushed and polished before we present him to the king, of course, we mean no disrespect…«

The guard exchanged brief words with his companions in their own language, surprisingly soft and flowy. Then he said, in the voice of one used to obedience, »We will take you to the palace.«

»Y-yes sir. Of course, sir. Thank you.«

The guards moved them on along the road, and soon, the vegetation around them started opening up, letting the gaze drift onto a batch of flowers here, a beautiful pond there. It was impossible to tell whether the arrangements were deliberate, or the palace was just located in an extraordinarily beautiful area. Mirai tried, with little success, to focus on the views over his weary feet and his sore body and the terror growing ever more firm around his heart like an icy shell.

The past days since they left the rest of the group at the borders of the serpent kingdom had been tense, and of course, the slavers turned to Mirai to relieve their tension. They had left him alone the last night so that he would not arrive before their illustrious client a complete wreck, but the night before that had been the worst Mirai had had in a long time.

It didn’t help that the slavers had been moving through the lush forest as fast as they could manage. They wanted to get back out as fast as they could, fearing an attack every moment, imagining enemies hidden everywhere in the thick, impenetrable undergrowth. It had been hard enough to keep up the pace when his every fibre didn’t want to go face the grim future laid out for him; doing it while his whole body ached had been a waking nightmare, the pain so bad after a time that he feared his knees would simply give out under him while the slavers tugged him along roughly.

He was feeling a bit better today. He had to be alright; he knew who would take the blame if the deal would not be closed after all. The slavers had been cheering each other up with grand tales of what they would do with the riches he would fetch them, convincing themselves more and more the money was practically theirs already. By now, he wasn’t sure whether being accepted or refused would end up worse for him.

The slavers were making him go ahead, right after the guard leading the way, slithering along the road with a grace that betrayed their strength. They were so big, and so strong. It was all he could do not to cry when he imagined the king who would soon force every part of himself onto him. With Mirai’s luck, he would take a test ride, destroy what was left of him, and then throw him back at the traders to be punished for his failure.

Mirai tried to reel in his imagination, running wild with the worst possibilities. Things would be—actually, things were bad enough in the real world. He was exhausted and hurting and no one cared; he should pull himself together and present himself well enough he at least had a chance at being treated as a prized possession.

If only he could have a moment’s rest.

He couldn’t have been more surprised when before long, he did.

[mysticstarlightduck]

Word Find Tag!

Thanks for the tag, @writingrosesonneptune (here)!

My words were: Glass, Teeth, Red, and Sky

I'll go with Song of Thorns and Supernova Initiative for this one!

Glass (Supernova Initiative)

The strange liquid swirled within the glass syringe with a menacing silver glow. Jack frowned. "What the hell is that?"

"Oh, this little thing? An advanced tracking system of my own creation. To ensure you and your crew complete your mission properly so that you can't slip between my fingers again - all of you will get one of these" The Director gestured to his assistant, who picked up the syringe and moved to stand beside Jack, who glared daggers "Injected into your bloodstream."

Teeth (Song of Thorns)

The sound of gnashing teeth echoed throughout the cavern, the creature's thundering footsteps somewhere above causing pieces of gravel to plummet from the rocky ceiling. Roselyn swallowed a whimper holding onto Renn's hand as they turned to the strange Lantern Keeper. "Okay, how do we get out of here?"

The other girl cocked her head to the side, gesturing somewhere further into the mountains. "It'll be fine, I know a way, but we'll have to be quick and very quiet. C'mon." She started to walk but stopped in her tracks holding out a hand as if expecting a handshake. "Name's Cyriel by the way. Though I think your vampiric friend here knew that."

Red (Song of Thorns)

As, giant mahogany doors of the castle hall swung open, a clacking of boots on the stone floor echoed fiercely. His guest had arrived. The king placed the gold-trimmed goblet on the table, carelessly, a drop of deep red wine staining the precious cloth upon it. He smirked. "Ah, yes, the famed Ghoulsbane. I see you found your way to my palace promptly. Good. I hope you enjoy your accommodations."

The young man shook his head, absentmindedly running a hand across his crossbow, studying the metal gears. "I won't be staying. You said you had a job for me?" Despite addressing the head of state, he doesn't bother with any honorifics.

This causes a hushed murmur to echo amidst the royalty scattered across the hall, until the the King leans forward on the table, silencing his peers with a single gesture of his hand. He didn't look away from the hunter as he spoke once more, his voice venomous as a serpent's tongue. "Yes, I do. Hunting down a certain thief of dhampir blood - one Renn Atrius of a rather considerable disrepute. I'll pay you accordingly, as your talents in dealing with such beasts speak for themselves. I assume you'll make short work of this... nuisance."

"Consider it done," Elveryn answered with a curt nod, twirling a silver arrow between his fingers, before nocking it to the crossbow.

King Larkin smirks, sitting back down on his gilded chair, the chalice of wine upon his hand once more. "Excellent answer, lad."

Sky (Supernova Initiative)

In her room on the spaceship, Cassie lay splayed out on the floor like a small starfish, a fluffy blanket between her and the cold metal of the room as she looked up at the murky, almost starless sky above. It was oddly familiar, the sight, reminiscent of the grimy moons they once called home a few years ago - and not in a comforting way.

The room's door opened with an almost hermetic whoosh of air, and she didn't need to look to recognize the familiar footsteps that followed. "Something on your mind?" Jack asked, sitting down on the floor beside her, leaning against the wall, and handing her a vanilla smoothie.

Cassie shrugs, taking the smoothie in one hand while battling with a stubborn strand of her own hair that insisted on falling into her eyes. "Eh, not really. Just thinking - this place stirs up memories, don't it?"

"I find it's best not to dwell on it." Jack agrees, gently pushing her hair away from her face. He smiles "But really, we'll be outta here soon enough. Artemis says he knows someone that'll fish the ship in no time."

"I hope he knows what he's doing this time" Cassiopeia chuckles.

"He always does - I think. In a weird, gremlin way, he kinda always has a backup plan for most scenarios."

Tagging (gently): @sleepy-night-child, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @smol-feralgremlin, @oh-no-another-idea, @littleladymab, @little-peril-stories

@the-ellia-west, @winterandwords, @cowboybrunch, @eccaiia, @sarahlizziewrites, @illarian-rambling

@leave-her-a-tome, @writernopal, @anyablackwood, @unstablewifiaccess, @forthesanityofstorytellers

@i-can-even-burn-salad, @cakeinthevoid

@lassiesandiego, @thepeculiarbird, @clairelsonao3, @memento-morri-writes, @starlit-hopes-and-dreams

@the-golden-comet OPEN TAG

[bazzpop]

Tied Up In Knots

@flashfictionfridayofficial

Aziraphale’s first indication that something was wrong was the loud thump of something—or someone—very heavy slamming onto the ancient floorboards. His second was the wince-inducing crash of porcelain shattering as it, too, hit the floor. And, lastly, his third was the hissed out obscenities that soon followed, no doubt coming from a very grumpy, and likely pained, snake.

“Crowley, dear?” Azirpahale asked towards the backroom, though he didn’t get up to check just yet. If Crowley was well enough to move on to cursing his way through every dead language they knew in history, he probably wasn’t in any real danger. “Everything all right?”

“Yesss,” Crowley hissed irritably, “jussst peachy.”

“I highly doubt that whatever you’re doing back there has anything to do with peaches.” Aziraphale set his book aside and primly took off his nifty reading glasses that were more for form than function. “You know I’d be awfully cross if it does and you didn’t share any.”

“No peachesss,” Crowley promised. The rasp of scales sliding furiously against the floors loud in the otherwise quiet shop. “If anything, I’d sssay ‘s more like a pretzel.”

Intrigued by that tiny admission, Aziraphale rose from his cushy armchair and mentally prepared himself for whatever Crowley could have possibly gotten himself into while he began the short walk into the backroom.

The sight that met him upon entry was not at all what he’d expected.

Crowley was in serpent form, sprawled out on the floor, littered remnants of an unfortunate mug of cold cocoa scattered around him, and absolutely tangled in the blanket Aziraphale had carefully laid over him while he had been dozing off in the sunbeams earlier. But, from the look of things, he had also managed to get a bit tangled up in himself too—if the giant mess of a knot in his middle, spine up in a rather nasty twist because of it, was anything to go by.

“Uh,” Crowley’s thin tongue poked out to lick his non-existent lips, strongly resisting the urge to hide his snout somewhere deep amongst his coils in embarrassment, “I can explain.”

“I’m sure you can,” Azirpahale desperately tried not to laugh for Crowley’s sake, “and I’d very much love to hear it, but how about I get you unraveled first? That can’t be very comfortable.”

“Oh, yeah, that’d be great.”

Gently, Aziraphale picked up the bundle of snake and went about inspecting the knot. Oh dear, Crowley had done quite a number on himself with this one, he tsked. It took him a couple minutes of poking and prodding for the knot to finally give way.

Inspecting his handiwork, Aziraphale stroked a hand down the smooth scales in a soothing manner. “There we are, good as new.”

“Thanksss,” Crowley slipped through the angel’s hands, collapsing onto the floor and back into his favorite human shape. But as soon as he materialized, he grabbed at his back with a grimace, leaning into the arms Aziraphale had brought up when his knees almost buckled under him. “Ow, that smarts.”

“Something wrong?”

“Think I pulled something in my back,” the demon explained with a wince before it turned into a disbelieving laugh, “didn’t know I could do that as a snake.”

“Neither did I,” Aziraphale chucked along with an undercurrent of concern, raising a hand to snap, “is it something I could help with?”

“Nah, don’t trouble yourself—I’m fine, really. Nothing a bit of sitting down for a while, stretching it out, and maybe having something to drink can’t fix.”

“Oh,” Azirpahale wiggled, though a more controlled wiggle as to not jostle the poor demon’s aching back too much, “I do believe I can help with that!” Together they hobbled their way over to the sofa so the demon could sit himself down, and then moved on to pour them some drinks from an ornate crystal decanter of Crowley’s favorite scotch. “Now then, I believe I was promised an explanation on how that happened?” He asked, offering a tumbler of amber colored liquor to a crooked sitting demon.

“Right.” Crowley accepted it, tongue flicking out to better catch the scent. Oooh this was the good stuff, leave it to Aziraphale to know him so well. “Let’s just say I couldn’t get comfortable, tied myself up in knots without something warm to wrap myself around in such a drafty old bookshop.”

“Well then,” Azirpahale smiled down into his glass, feeling brave, “perhaps I’ll just have to offer myself the next time you feel the need to cuddle something warm, shouldn’t I?”

Crowley sputtered into his drink, alcohol burning his nose, and tried to hold onto his cool attitude, even after the indignity of today’s events. “Sure, if you like.”

“I would.”