Perpetually Peckish Principality

when he does, aziraphale luxuriates in it.  sinful angel that he is, he is greedy, gluttonous, and every facet of crowley is a new fractal of light to be admired, hoarded and adored.  he collects them, guards them jealously.  

sometimes crowley is a man, and sometimes she is a woman, begging aziraphale to her bed, keening and needing and just cruel enough to be selfish. and aziraphale, greedy devil that he is, goes to her.  he peels off layer upon layer of clothing, exposes her, pale and vulnerable, and gluts himself on her secrets: on flesh that has never bent toward temptation, on wide, golden eyes and clutching fingers.  he gluts himself between her thighs, laving, kissing, sucking, inside her, ravenous, greedy, teasing her,  making her keen and sob and cry out with every prayer of his lips and worship of his tongue.  her fingers pull painfully in his hair, clawing, frantic, needing.

and when she gasps, shudders, collapses into herself, aziraphale rises, just the faintest hint of a smile pulling at his mouth, arms strong and sure around her as he lifts her, carries her.  bedsprings creak, the world spins.  he grips her hips, pushes inside in one desperate, needing thrust, for he is wretched with the wanting of it.  it’s wanting and having and downfall, the unslaked thirst of a poor parched fool drinking poison in an endless desert.  her fingers score lines across his back, delight in ravaging the unmarked flesh.

the basest human sensation overwhelms him, a dance as old and vital as the thump of blood in his ears.  his fingers bruise her as he comes, head bent, teeth gritted against an unholy oath.  he kisses her and his lips are slick with her, filthy with her, tasting ever and only of her.  

crowley: and then he left flowers on the counter for me so now I HAVE to pop into the bakery for those little cakes he likes, you know he does that on purpose

maggie: what sort of flowers?

harriet: what sort of cakes??

crowley: red fucking roses, can you believe? I’ve got a plan though, we’re talking red velvet cake with champagne in bed AND I picked up this little lace number -

jo: all right, keep it clean,

crowley: but I’ll show HIM who’s the more romantic of the two of us, I’m going to lay him out flat and suck -

jo: I SAID KEEP IT CLEAN

Send me an ask with the number(s) you’d like me to answer!

The Basics 1.     Do you listen to music when you write? 2.     Are you a pantser or plotter? 3.     Computer or pen and paper? 4.     Have you ever been published, or do you want to be published? 5.     How much writing do you get done on an average day? 6.     Single or multiple POV? 7.     Standalone or series? 8.     Oldest WIP 9.     Current WIP 10.  Do you set yourself deadlines?

The Specifics 11.  Books and/or authors who influenced you the most 12.  Describe your perfect writing space 13.  Describe your writing process from idea to polished 14.  How do you deal with self-doubts? 15.  How do you deal with writer’s block? 16.  How many drafts do you need until you’re satisfied with a project? 17.  What writing habits or rituals do you have? 18.  If you could collaborate with anyone, who would it be, and what would you write about? 19.  How do you keep yourself motivated? 20.  How many WIPs and story ideas do you have?

The Favourites 21.  Who is/are your favourite character(s) to write? 22.  Who is/are your favourite pairing(s) to write? 23.  Favourite author 24.  Favourite genre to write and read 25.  Favourite part of writing 26.  Favourite writing program 27.  Favourite line/scene 28.  Favourite side character 29.  Favourite villain 30.  Favourite idea you haven’t started on yet

The Dark 31.  Least favourite part of writing 32.  Most difficult character to write 33.  Have you ever killed a main character? 34.  What was the hardest scene you ever had to write? 35.  What scene/story are you least looking forward to writing?

The Fun 36.  Last sentence you wrote 37.  First sentence or your current WIP 38.  Weirdest story idea you’ve ever had 39.  Weirdest character concept you’ve ever had 40.  Share some backstory for one of your characters

But Crowley is off-limits. He’s the enemy. He’s constantly trying to get Aziraphale to question Heaven’s orders and their explanations, to ask himself what is really the right thing to do.

Ok, so you know that amazing vintage photo from the stage production of The Warrior’s Husband? 

*Crowley wrapping his arms around Aziraphale* you’ve been possessed by a demon