#crowley fanfiction

[bi-bard]

The Angel, The Demon, and the University Student They "Adopted" - Aziraphale & Crowley Imagine [Good Omens]

Title: The Angel, The Demon, and the University Student They "Adopted"

Pairing: Aziraphale & Crowley X Platonic!Reader

Word Count: 2,071 words

Warning(s): headache, mention of break-up

Summary: In which a struggling college student stumbles upon a demon and an angel, who agree to help in any way they can.

Author's Note: to celebrate the announcement of the release date... and give a little comfort to those who are having a rough time in college right now.

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I had gone to that small bookshop for something to work on a paper.

I had been looking for it online, but nothing was affordable. My best option was going to be to find a small bookshop that didn't charge as much. I simply had my fingers crossed that it would work out.

I must've been walking around with my eyebrows furrowed for a little while because a man walked up to me. He was wearing a beige suit with a-little-too-perfectly white hair. He seemed friendly enough though.

"Can I help you find something," he asked. I paused for a moment. "Sorry, I'm the owner. I can tell you where everything is."

"Oh, okay," I chuckled. I pointed at a part of my paper where my potential sources had been scribbled down. "Um, yes. I'm looking for this... it's for a school paper."

"I see..." he muttered. "Wait here."

I nodded.

I watched him walk behind a set of shelves. There was maybe a minute of waiting before the man walked out again with the book in his hands.

"Oh, you are a lifesaver," I said excitedly. "Thank you! How much?"

He hesitated, staring at the book. As if he grabbed it without thinking about it but now was realizing that he was going to have to part with it.

"How about a deal," he offered after a few moments. "Once you're done with your paper, bring it back here in largely the same condition. No charge and you have no additional clutter to take up space in your home."

I grinned. "Sounds like a deal."

"Well, then, I wish you luck on your paper," he handed me the book

"Thank you," I said. I only took a few steps toward the door before stopping. "I didn't get your name."

He hesitated for a moment before replying, "A.Z. Fell."

"Oh, I thought... Sorry, I assumed this place had been open for a while, so I thought the name on the front was your father or something."

"Afraid not."

"Well, thank you again. I'll see you in a few days."

Which I did.

A few days later, my paper was done, and I walked back into the little bookshop.

"Mr. Fell," I called.

He rounded the corner. "You're back."

"I'm here to return your book," I held up the book as evidence. "Perfect condition."

"Thank you so much," he said as he grabbed it from me. "I hope you get a good grade on that paper of yours."

"Me too," I chuckled. "In all honestly, I don't think I've read it without just a little more of my brain frying."

"Oh no," he mumbled. "I... I could read it over for you. If that would help, of course. I won't force you to give me your paper."

"I... I can't ask you to do that."

"Well, that's precisely why I'm offering," he grinned at me.

I grinned back. "Okay. When would you like me to bring it by?"

"Do you have time now?"

"Um, yeah, sure."

"Here," he led me into a corner of the shop with a small table. "You get your paper put together and I'll make us some tea."

"Okay," I nodded.

As he walked out, I sat down and unzipped my bag, grabbing the binder that held my paper. I also grabbed a red pen just so it was more convenient.

When he came back, he placed a mug in front of me. I grinned and thanked him.

"You can go find a book to enjoy if you'd rather that than watch me read..." he looked at the paper in front of him. "(Y/n)."

"Thank you."

I took his advice. I took the mug of tea and started pacing around the collection of books. I was scanning the spines of the books when the doors of the shop slammed open.

"Angel!"

I jumped at the sound, looking over at whoever had stormed in. Another man, dressed in all black, sunglasses sitting on his face.

"Who are you?"

"(Y/n)," I said. "Who are you?"

"I have told you to not run in here shouting like that," Mr. Fell walked out of the corner that he had been hiding in.

"Who is this," the other man pointed at me.

"I just told you my name," I replied.

"How am I meant to trust you?"

"Why would I lie about my name?"

"Don't know, you tell me-"

"Stop it," Mr. Fell cut him off. "This is (Y/n). I am reading over a paper that they wrote for school."

"Why?"

"Because it's kind," he turned back to me. "(Y/n), this is... Anthony."

"Nice to meet you," I nodded to Anthony.

"Yeah, you too," he muttered, barely paying me any mind as he spoke to Mr. Fell. "We need to talk."

"I am busy-"

"Do I look like I care?"

"I can come back later," I spoke up.

"No, no, please, I promised to read your paper," Mr. Fell stopped me. "Anthony will simply have to wait."

"Excuse me," Anthony snapped.

"You heard me perfectly well," Mr. Fell mumbled. "Please, stay. I'll finish this paper."

Anthony glared at me as Mr. Fell turned around and went back to the table he had been sitting at.

If you had told me that day that the little bookshop was going to become such a place of comfort for me, then I am not sure that I would have believed you.

But it did.

I continued going to that little shop whenever I had the time. I would study, read, or just help with whatever I could help with. Mr. Fell was not a fan of me doing "so much" work around the shop, but I insisted. He had given me a safe space. The least that I could do was help him maintain it.

I grew closer to him as time went on. I even grew closer to Anthony.

Or Crowley, as I soon learned.

I still chuckled from time to time over how they told me their real names. I had been sitting at the table, scribbling notes for one of my courses.

They both stood in front of me silently until I noticed them. I raised an eyebrow at them. That's when they confessed that their names were fake.

When they told me their real names, I felt bad for chuckling. They both looked a bit confused.

"I'm sorry, but... your fake name just used your real name as a last name," I pointed to Crowley and then to Aziraphale. "And yours was your real name with a couple of letters taken out."

"Alright, we get it," Crowley grumbled.

"Thank you for telling me," I added. "I mean it."

"You're welcome," Aziraphale replied. Crowley didn't say the same until Aziraphale looked over at him with a somewhat grumpy look.

The three of us were only closer after that.

It was nice. Having that small support group that I could turn to.

Aziraphale was always ready to help. As soon as I opened the door of the shop, he was ready for whatever assistance I asked for. A hug, an extra set of eyes on an assignment, a quiet place to read a new book.

Crowley acted cold, but I could tell that he cared.

I came in one day with one of the worst headaches I had ever experienced. Aziraphale was gone, but Crowley had been waiting for him. I walked into the building with the heels of my hands pressed into my eyes. After grumpily explaining what was happening, I walked off to put my bag down and hide in the corner.

He waited for a moment before following me.

"Come here," he said.

"What," I asked.

"Come here," he repeated, holding his arms open.

I kept my eyebrows furrowed as I stepped forward. Once I was close enough to him, he grabbed my arm and pulled me forward into a hug.

"Oh," I mumbled before slowly hugging him back. "This is nice."

"Don't call me that."

I chuckled. "I didn't call you nice."

"Oh...," he muttered. "Well... don't get any clever ideas."

"Yeah, sure, whatever you want, Crowley."

I closed my eyes for a minute, holding onto him a little tighter.

I don't know what happened, but I could feel my headache slowly fading away as we hugged. It felt like it was there one minute and gone the next. I let out a sharp breath when it was gone. It felt like a weight had been lifted off of my head.

"Thank you," I said after a while.

"Yeah, whatever."

That may have been the closest I ever got to a you're welcome with him and I was okay with that. For the time being.

I don't know if I truly realized how much Crowley and Aziraphale cared for me until I walked in crying.

I felt like a child. I was crying as I walked down the sidewalk.

When I made it to the shop, I almost sprinted inside.

Aziraphale jumped at the force I used to open the door. Any scolding died as soon as he saw me.

"Oh, dear," he muttered, walking over to me. "What happened to you?"

He pulled me into a hug as I cried. I hid my face in his shoulder, clinging to his suit a bit as I did. I saw Crowley walk out from around the corner.

"What's going on," he asked.

I stepped back. I went to speak but nothing came out.

"Come on," Aziraphale guided me to my normal corner, guiding me to sit down. I dropped my bag on the floor and wiped my eyes. "Take your time."

Crowley sat in the spot next to me while Aziraphale stayed standing.

"There's... There's this guy," I explained. "I... We were seeing each other for a little while. We went on a few dates. I thought... I thought it was going well. And then, he just... changed. And he sent me this."

I tossed my unlocked phone on the table. Aziraphale grabbed it first. I heard a disgusted sound escape him.

"That is just... despicable," he muttered, placing the phone down.

Crowley reached out and grabbed the phone. I saw his face twist in disgust as a reaction.

"I think he sounds like a waste of time," he said as he placed my phone down. "It's stupid to waste an ounce more of your time on him."

"Crowley!" Aziraphale was fast to scold him.

"What?"

"Now is not the time to insult (Y/n) about their relationship!"

"I'm not! I'm only insulting them if they decide to spend any more time on this person. What I did was just an example of bluntness."

Aziraphale gave Crowley a look before turning back to me with a soft grin. "I am going to make you some tea. You just relax. And Crowley..."

Crowley smirked at him, an eyebrow raised.

"Be nice."

"I am not nice."

"Well, maybe now is a good time to try."

Aziraphale turned around and walked away from the pair of us.

There was a pause between the pair of us before I could speak up.

"Do you actually think that I'm stupid for wasting time on this guy," I asked quietly.

Crowley let out a sigh as he sat up a little bit straighter, tilting his head so he was looking me in the eye. "Not as stupid as he was for leaving you."

I felt a grin form on my face. He leaned over and kissed my head before standing up.

"I'm going to get you something a little stronger than tea."

"I don't drink-"

"And I clearly meant chocolate."

I chuckled and shook my head. "Thank you, Crowley."

"You're welcome."

He walked out of the little nook in the corner.

As he did, I leaned my head on my folded arms on the table. I felt my eyes slowly shutting. I felt bad because of what the pair were off doing, but I couldn't help it. It had just been such a long day. I couldn't help it.

As my blinking got slower and slower, I found myself thinking about how lucky I was to be in that situation.

I had never felt as safe as I was when I spent time in that little bookshop.

I would never be able to thank Crowley and Aziraphale for that.

But I would never stop trying to do so.

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What I Write For

Some Original Characters

[entitled-fangirl]

He may always be a demon from hell, but she still loves him.

Crowley x human!reader

Summary: The reader and Crowley discuss what she's reading. She says it reminds her of him, to which he panics.

Words: 1,784

Warnings: demon, heavy makeout session, angst, alcohol

Author's note: I don't own the character or the book mentioned in this! Eeeeek enjoy!

Masterlist <3

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Crowley looked up from the glass of bourbon in his hands as he sat in one of Aziraphale’s many chairs. There she sat across from him. The pretty little human.

Her legs were pulled up onto the couch, her body curled into itself as she held her book out in front of her to read.

She was quite pretty. He had always thought so. Of all his years on this earth, this one was by far the best he had seen. And her soul simply solidified it. Her mind, body, and soul were precious. 

She was entirely focused on her book, not noticing Crowley’s gaze. He took that to his advantage, his eyes scanning her entire frame before finally resting on her face. He opened his mouth to speak. He didn’t know what he was going to say, but he knew he would do anything to talk to her as much as he could in her lifetime.

“What are you reading, Flower?”

That was his name for her. Aziraphale was his angel, sure. And she seemed like an angel herself, the metaphorical kind, anyway. She was not like a real angel, which is annoying and dull. No, she wasn’t like that at all. He hadn’t read many books but knew how humans romanticized the term 'angel.' The innocence it carried in its title. 

No, no, no. She was his flower. He spend many days searching for the right name, but once he came up with that one, it stuck like glue. He loved plants. He loved plants so much. And he loved her. She was his flower.

Now, her head perked up to let her eyes meet his. She held his gaze, admiring the snake-like pupils the demon had. She seemed to snap out of it quickly, regaining her composure. “Oh, uh…,” her voice soft, “it’s the Phantom of the Opera. Have… Have you read it, Angel?”

His eyes closed. He loved it when she called him that. He was no angel by any means, but she used the term every chance she could the day she learned that he had once been so. She had two angels as far as she was concerned. And while one had a significantly more gothic wardrobe, she still considered him just the same.

He nods, “I was around when it was written and published. Hated it then.”

Her lips slowly pull into an amused smile. “And now?”

He shrugs, looking back into her eyes, “…Do YOU like it, Flower?”

A soft breath comes from her lungs, “…Not sure, but I believe so. Won’t say until I finish it. You know how it ends, Angel?”

He shakes his head, “Can’t say I do. Didn’t care enough to finish it.”

She finds that quite amusing. She pulls her legs closer to her to get comfortable, trying to keep herself warm. “Well, I’ll let you know when I’m done, yeah? If it’s good enough, will you try to read it again?”

“Tell me why you like it so much, Flower.”

She considers his words carefully, “I… perhaps see similarities in it… sometimes. You know?”

His eyes move back down to the liquor glass in his hand. He remained quiet, a silent sigh for her elaborate on her findings. 

“That was… stupid. I shouldn’t have said it. I’m… I’m sorry…”

He was much more intrigued than before. Sorry? For what? He wished sometimes he could just see what was going on in that funny little brain of hers. “No. Tell me.”

She knew that wasn’t a reassurance that he wasn’t annoyed. It was more of a demand. 

“I don’t know, Crowley…”

He grins, pulling the glass to his lips to take another sip.

“Tell me what you DO know, Flower.”

Her eyes wander around the room in thought. “I suppose I feel remorse for the Phantom…”

He hums.

“…and… everyone makes him out to be a horrid creature. A vile beast worth ending. And he believes it too about himself. That he’s awful and cruel. But they don’t know anything about him. Nothing. They even assume it’s a ghost sometimes…”

By now, he’s hooked on her words. Not that he cared for the plot much, but just her. She was beautiful like this, the sunlight from the windows behind her casting a light against her back, giving her body a glowing effect. 

“…anyways, this girl falls in love with him. And she finds out he’s just a man. He’s a man like anyone else. He’s not the vile thing everyone makes him out to be.”

He’s taking in every word.

Her voice drops to a low volume, “They call him a demon from hell.”

Crowley felt his jaw clench at her words. 

“…But, he’s not. Not at all. He’s just a man. A man who deserves much more than life handed him. He was no demon. He could’ve been an angel. He’s kind and fair. Honest and witty. He protects her with his life. And he’s loyal. He is quite admirable, honestly.”

She held this look. It was a loving look as she stared at Crowley. This time, he could read her like an open book. She was referencing him. That everyone believed Crowley was vile and cruel. But he was just like a man. 

“…You’re awfully quiet, Angel.”

That sold it for him. Angel. Her angel. His eyes closed, taking in a deep breath. 

He stood up quickly, setting his glass on the side table before approaching the sofa she occupied. She noticed, scooting over slightly to make room for him, but he didn’t sit. He kneeled in front of the couch, in front of her. 

If his eyes could produce tears, they’d be running. “Flower? You truly think that of me? That I’m just a man?”

She nods, her breath quickening at his proximity. 

He wanted to believe her. He truly did, but he couldn’t. He leaned in, making their faces inches apart. 

“You think all this and you haven’t finished the book?”

She nods again, her gaze staring to settle on his lips.

His hand reached forward, grabbing her face gently. His voice became a low growl, “And what if this angel truly is a demon from hell? Would the girl stop loving him, Flower?”

She isn’t sure what to say. She’s not sure who they’re even talking about at this point. Her gut told her to say one thing, but her head said another. And his grip on her face was not helping her focus.

“I.. I don’t think… love takes what they are into con… consideration when it chooses them…”

Satan, she was perfect. She always knew exactly what to say, the sneaky thing. It stilled his vessel’s heart, his eyes still drilling into hers. 

“And… will she truly listen to her heart?”

She nods. “She would be a fool not to, Angel.”

He couldn’t take it anymore. Here she was, sitting so pretty for him, her words causing a fire to erupt in his stomach. He leaned forward, pulling her face towards his. 

Their lips meet in a gentle kiss. It doesn’t last long because Crowley pulls away.

“Maybe you should finish the book before you make your conclusions, Flower. Perhaps he’ll always be that demon from hell.”

He stands, sliding his hands into his pockets with a sigh before exiting the bookshop.

…

Days pass and Crowley acts as if their interaction never happened. It broke her heart. Aziraphale couldn’t take the two ignoring each other and decided to fix it. 

He told Crowley to be at the bookshop at a certain time. But Aziraphale wouldn’t be there. No, this was to get the demon alone with her to talk again, as they had before. And that plan worked perfectly.

This time, however, she was placing books on the bookshelf when he entered. He walked in confidently, but the confidence soon fell as he saw her pretty face. 

“Oh. I… where’s Angel?”

She shrugs, “Haven’t seen him all day.”

Curse that blasted angel from his stupid plans that always work. 

Crowley sighs, “I’m sorry I ran out on you.”

Her eyes finally move to find his. “I finished the book.”

His shoulders dropped somewhat at her sudden change of subject, but he went along with it nonetheless. “…Well, Flower?”

Her fingers lightly played with the spine of the book she had in her hand. “He may always be the demon from hell, but she still loves him.”

He was so stupid to leave her. To abandon his sweet Christine like this. His little flower that was always in bloom. 

“Oh, Flower…”

He moved forward, immediately wrapping his arms around her. He pulled her in for a kiss.

This kiss was very much different from their first. Where the first was soft and hesitant, this one was heated and passionate, as if this was their only method of communication. And to Crowley, it was. He needed her to see just how much her words meant to him. How much he craved to feel her lips on his again. How he imagined her the nights before. 

Her hands move to him, the book in her hand long forgotten. One rested on his forearm, the other cradling his face. She kissed him back with as much reverence as he did. She needed him to know she didn’t care. She didn’t care about what he was. What he did. She needed him to know that she loved him.

She loved him.

His tongue darted out to swipe across her bottom lip. She left out a soft moan, paring her lips. His tongue gently began to explore her mouth, their bodies holding each other in fear that they could be ripped from each other at any moment. 

She gently pushed him away, needing to catch her breath. “Sorry… sorry, Angel.. just… just gotta breathe…”

He smiled, leaning down to kiss her jaw lightly, trailing the kisses up towards her ear before whispering softly, “‘If I am to be saved, it is because your love redeems me.’”

She let out a soft gasp, and her hand moved to the back of his neck, her fingers playing with his hair. “You… you know it?”

She could practically feel his smile against her neck, his voice vibrating the bones there, “Read it again after we talked…. All the way through this time…”

She was speechless at his words. He had went back and not only read the story for her, but then was able to quote it. She had never felt love radiate in a room until this very moment in time.

She pulled him back in for another sweet kiss.

He was no demon. To her, he was an angel. Her angel.

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[raz-writes-the-thing]

Better Hurry

Crowley x Fem!Reader18+ ONLY / requests are: open and encouraged

Summary: Based on no. 22 from this prompt list: “if i have to pull over, you won’t be able to walk for a week.”

CW: blowjobs, oral (m receiving), dom!Crowley, slight force used, female reader

Gomens Tag List: @coffee-and-red-lipstick @quickslvxrr (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

You’re playing with fire. You know that. Or, well, would it be Hellfire? Either way, you’re playing with it and fire, no matter what kind- always burns. You should know better by now, and yet, you never seem to take the lessons on and retain them. No matter, maybe you’ll take it to heart next time. 

Probably not. 

Crowley is driving you home after having spent all day in the bookshop with him and Aziraphale. They’d said you should stay for the night, but you had a cat at home that needed feeding. You were worried she might just take you out as soon as you opened the door, actually. Maybe you’d send Crowley in first. Invite him in under the pretense of a coffee and then leave him to the mercy of your cat. 

Currently, you have your hand splayed over Crowley’s denim-clad thigh. You’d laid it there innocently enough at first, but as your mind tended to do, it strayed. Innocent thigh touching had grown into absent-minded stroking, had turned into groping, had turned into your fingers delicately sliding up towards his crotch and squeezing.

 

“If I have to pull over, you won’t be able to walk for a week,” the Demon growls, eyes glinting dangerously at you from behind his shades. You smother a grin as best you can, and give him another firm squeeze, loving the way you can feel him thickening under your hand. “Then again, that’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Your half-smothered smile drips into a confused little frown. 

“What do you mean, love?” 

“I mean- you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Bet that was your plan. Get me all worked up just so I’d fill that pretty cunt with my cum?” 

You can't help the way your thighs rub together at the thought. Crowley tuts knowingly, taking one hand off the wheel to reach down and unbutton his jeans. You move your hand out of the way, watching hungrily, but when he doesn’t pull the car over, your frown deepens. 

“Mm- right- you’re so desperate for it, Pet? Go on, put my cock in that pretty mouth.” 

You bite your lip, undoing your seatbelt and twisting in the seat so you could lean over properly. You take the base of him in one hand, and press a soft kiss to the tip. Crowley grunts, cock twitching in your fist. 

“You little tease,” he grinds out, fingers tightening on the wheel of the Bentley. You chuckle airily and swirl your tongue over the tip. Crowley sighs with pleasure and fights the urge to press your head down on him. 

Sensing his growing frustration, you open your mouth wide enough to fit him inside, swallowing him down one inch at a time. 

“Oh, Pet- fuck,” Crowley says blissfully. Your lips twitch with the hint of a smirk as you get him down to the back of your throat. What’s left of him sits in your fist. He’s too long to fit the whole way inside, unfortunately.

Hollowing your cheeks, you begin to bob your head, wrapping your lips around him so tight you can feel the thick vein on the underside of his cock on your bottom lip. The Demon groans, hand coming to wrap in your hair forcefully. 

“Maybe, if you’re- ngk- good- I’ll fuck you when we get back.” 

You whimper around him, the vibrations travelling up his nerves and causing him to white-knuckle the wheel. 

You flatten your tongue and slide it up the length of him before taking him back inside your mouth. He puts his foot on the gas pedal, revelling in the thrill of it. 

“Fuck, Pet- just like that, mm?” 

You pull out all the tricks in the book, all the things you know make him go crazy for you, and it doesn’t take long before he’s gripping fistfuls of your hair and bucking his hips up into your throat so he can spill his seed. 

“Fuck, swallow it,” he grunts, not letting his grip go on you. You do as you’re told, swallowing as best you can. He lets go and you come up for air, tears streaming down your cheeks and a flushed glow radiating from you. “Filthy thing, aren’t you?”

 

A little of his cum that you couldn’t swallow drips off your lower lip and you press forward to kiss him on the cheek. He smirks despite himself. 

“Naughty thing, too. Alright, tell you what, Pet- if you can make yourself finish on your pretty fingers by the time we get back, I’ll fuck you good and proper after.” 

You gasp, biting your lip. “And if I can’t?” 

“You’ll just have to go without then, won’t you.”

It’s not a question, but a statement. Your fingers trail down towards the apex of your thighs as he speeds up even further. You won’t have long. 

“Better hurry, Pet.”

[rax-writes]

↬ hellish elysian

Elysian - relating to or characteristic of heaven or paradise.

Pairing: Crowley x afab!Reader Warnings: Smut, MDNI, 18+ ONLY ⇆ P in V sex, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), choking / breath play, impact play, hair pulling, degradation, mention of blood kink

The original objective of this entire situation had been manipulation. But, at this point, it was impossible to tell who was manipulating whom – or if that was at all part of the dynamic anymore.

Post-human blood debacle, Crowley felt more vulnerable than he had in a few hundred years. Being around demons too often felt risky, lest they sniff out his vulnerability & use it to their advantage. But he craved touch, affection, and closeness – which made him feel like a whiny child, but he couldn't get rid of the craving without satiating it. The best option, in this “between a rock and a hard place” scenario, was none other than one of the people who had a hand in attempting to make him human.

You.

You clearly knew of his involvement in the third trial, and you were a human. Even though you were a hunter – a damn good one, at that – you were still just a human, so he viewed you as less of a threat than any demons he could use for sex.

Or, at least, that's how he justified it. The truth was that Crowley had wanted to fuck you since the day he met you – first just to piss off Moose and Squirrel, then simply because something about you made his trousers tighter.

On your end, the rationale wasn't too different from Crowley's. Given the endless flirtatious comments the King of Hell threw your way, you often contemplated whether you could use sex as a bargaining chip with him. Sure, he was undeniably hot, and something about that gravely accented voice made you flush. But it didn't seem to be a card you truly wanted to play – until you basically got a late night “booty call” text from an unmistakable 666 phone number.

You got some juicy intel out of it, and a couple of ancient relics, both of which helped on the next couple of hunts. The next time, you got a very old, very powerful protection amulet. The third time… well, you came so hard you passed out, so you just called that transaction square. The fourth time was just a lavish dinner, a horse-drawn carriage ride around Paris at night, and a stay in a hotel that was so over-the-top fancy you could scarcely believe your eyes.

You lost track after that, but eventually… there were no transactions, no trades. Just mind-blowing, spine-melting, moral-disintegrating sex.

Crowley still bought you dresses with four-figure price tags to wear to swanky restaurants, followed by stays in five star hotels or rented million-dollar homes, fucking the brains out of one another on every surface. But somewhere along the way, any attempts at personal gain via manipulation were lost, and the two of you just enjoyed each other's company.

Which is what brought you to your current position – naked on silk sheets, barely clinging to consciousness as the King of Hell made you cum on his tongue for the umpteenth time that evening.

Crowley spoke, but you could barely hear him over the ringing in your ears. It sounded like he was far away as you gasped for air, eyes closed as you came down from your high.

“You look so pretty like this, pet,” he purred, absentmindedly kissing your inner thighs – each peck of his lips making you twitch. “Fucked within an inch of your life by none other than moi. Oh, I love to see it.”

Agonizingly slow, Crowley made his way up your body, leaving nips and kisses in his wake. Thighs, hips, stomach, breasts, throat, jaw – and, finally, your lips. As he situated himself between your legs, the familiar feeling of his rock hard cock grinding against your soaked pussy invaded your senses, causing you to sigh into the kiss. He continued to glide his shaft through your folds, teasing you until you began to whine.

“Something you want, darling?” Crowley asked lightheartedly, grinding harder against you. When you merely whined and hooked your legs around him, trying to pull him closer, he let out a condescending tsk tsk tsk. “You know what to say to get exactly what you want.”

However, his smirk faded when you rolled your eyes.

“I am not saying that.”

“You will if you want me to finish the job.”

That only made you smile, because god, it was always so fun to call his bluffs.

You shrugged, moving to leave the bed, “Meh, the job is finished enough, I'd say. We can go ahead and call it a day.”

Lightning fast, Crowley let out a quiet growl, grabbed you by the jaw, turned your head to face him, agitation written all over his face. You merely smiled – which only irked him more.

“Fine. You don't have to call me ‘my king.’ Just… just get back over here,” Crowley demanded, his voice becoming marginally more desperate at the end. You complied, falling into his arms on the bed, and he wasted no time in capturing you in a searing kiss.

One of his hands drifted lower to pump himself a few times, before snarling, “Cocky little bitch, aren’t you?” Before you could retort, he plunged into you in one swift thrust.

A loud, debauched moan escaped you, and you mindlessly raked your nails down Crowley’s back, earning a hiss from him – but you knew him well enough by now to know that he liked it.

The demon set a merciless pace, burying his face in the crook of your neck, beard scratching the sensitive flesh there.

“Hit me.”

The words fell from your lips before you’d even fully thought them through, but Crowley was never one to hesitate. Almost instantly, you felt his palm collide with your cheek – somehow with the perfect amount of pain to make it absurdly pleasurable.

You toppled over an edge you didn’t even realize you’d been approaching, coming undone beneath him with a scream. Vaguely, you heard Crowley hum in amusement. Before you’d fully regained your senses, he was flipping you onto your stomach and pulling your hips up to meet his, using his grip on you as leverage to resume harshly fucking you. He seemed to be aware that you were practically mindless at this point, as he manhandled you however he pleased.

As a cacophony of wet, lewd sounds and moans filled the room, you momentarily had enough mental clarity to recall why the nature of this arrangement was so hot: it’s wrong. It’s so goddamn wrong – for a skilled hunter to be knocking boots with the literal King of Hell. But fuck, does it feel so right when he’s inside of you – hitting your sweet spot with brutal, precise thrusts, pulling your hair harshly to force you upright and into a messy kiss.

When the kiss broke, you let your head fall back onto Crowley’s shoulder, and his heavy breathing hit your ear as he wrapped a strong hand around your throat, squeezing just the right amount. You clenched around him, and he groaned – low and deep.

“Such a filthy whore you are, darling,” Crowley stated, that damned gravelly, accented voice causing you to clench around him again. Keeping one hand around your throat, the other drifted from your hip to your clit, rubbing steady circles over it. “Mm, you love it when I talk to you, don't you? Whether it’s praise or degradation – as long as I’m talking, it gets you moaning and gripping my cock like a bitch in heat. You’re positively vile, pet. And I love it.”

There were tears streaming down your face from listening to him, and from him toying with your overstimulated clit, and the sight brought a dark chuckle from deep within Crowley’s chest.

“My little succubus,” he mused, then abruptly slapped you again before returning that hand to your throat to give it a firm squeeze.

It was all too much. You came again with a strangled cry of his name. Ever the egomaniac, hearing you finish with his name on your lips was almost always his ending point as well, and Crowley bit down harshly onto your shoulder as he finished inside of you.

The pair of you fell to your sides on the bed, spooning with his cock still inside of you. Crowley draped his arm around your waist, then kissed the bite mark he left on your shoulder. When you turned your head slightly to speak to him, your breath was stolen from your lungs when you noticed the crimson blood on his lips. He opened his mouth to apologize for having bitten you so hard, but then he noticed the way your jaw hung slack, your breathing grew heavier, and your pupils darkened to the point that your irises were fully eclipsed. And he smirked.

“A blood kink, love? Always full of surprises, aren’t we?”

“Go to sleep, Crowley.”

“Another time then,” he replied, not missing the way you smiled as you turned away from him.

[3cremepie3]

Chatterbox

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Sypnopsis - Professor Crowley helping you his dear student relive some stress.

Warnings - Smut 18+, Teacher x student, squirting, dirty talk, humiliation, gagging, flattery!

A/n - I was been supposed to get this done. Sorry for the delay I got really busy with school. But it’s out now thanks for the support! And also before anyone starts Y/n is grown. REBLOG PLS!!

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“It’s been months since I’ve seen my family! My friends hell even my enemies.” What have you been doing this whole time? Answer me, Crowley,” you demanded!

“Y/n I have a school to run on top of trying to solve your impossible dilemma. For all I know you might’ve fallen from the sky like the tums.” Well, you’re not doing a good job at your school if your students keep overblotting,” you snapped.

You were tired of Crowley's BS that’s why you stormed into his office. You were currently standing over his desk looking his stupid mask in the eyes. He sat on his chair which resembled a bird cage.

“I have to be the one to stop them from dying because conveniently somehow you’re never around. You told me I could be a student here, not a therapist.” As pathetic as it may be you began to cry the built stress of holding back your feelings let loose.

“I need help myself I don’t have time to help others. Please Crowley help me find a way home,” you sobbed. Crowley sighed before clutching you closer to him.

“I'm a generous headmaster I hate to see my students under such stress. Especially beautiful ones that I’m trying to help every day. Crowley pulled your hands away from your face. Here come closer Y/n.” You followed his instructions as he pulled slightly on your arm.

He opened up one of his desk drawers to a file with your name on it. “This is everything I’ve collected on you so far even after using my global resources,” he spoke.”You read through the files while bent over his desk for a better view.

You could see how every lead he got was scratched off. It was hard to read since he had chicken scribble but you got through most of it. Crowley had been trying. But this file just proved one more thing you were never getting home. In a moment of shock you fell back and the tears began to stream again. You were in Crowleys now lap to upset to move. “Sorry Mr. Crowley,” you sniffed. “I can see now that you have been trying.”

“Yes this whole time this situation has been stressful for me as well since you’re quite troublesome on campus,” he joked. You could tell he was trying to lighten the mood. “I guess you have it hard too.” You shifted so that you could look at him not even remembering that you were on his lap.

“Um yeah I guess you could say that,” he coughed. For a second you wondered what he meant by that and then you felt it. His large hard on pressing onto your back. “Oh I should get up,” you yelped.

“No, I don’t mind you staying here. You look too pretty when you cry. And it seems like we could both use a little bit of a stress relief. Look at how tense you are.” He started to massage your shoulders then his hands rolled down to your neck.

You let out a sharp exhale startled by his cold hand on such a sensitive area. He began to grind himself into your now-exposed panties since your skirt was lifted. “I’ll continue only if you want me to Y/n. It’s an honor to make love to someone like me,” he chuckled.

“I’ve never done anything like this Mr. Crowley.” It’s okay I’ll walk you through it there’s no way you won’t enjoy your time with me.” Okay I’ll try then.”

“But are we gonna do it here? What if someone walks in?” They can’t do much to the I'm the headmaster after all.” His hands gripped your ass giving it a firm squeeze. “I don’t know Mister this seems like a bad idea.

“Hey,” you protested. “Just calm down.” His fingers ghosted over your pussy causing you to squirm. “Squirming already I guess you’re nervous. I would be too if I were having sex with me.”

“Shhh just sit and relax.” He put your legs on each side of the chair legs and held your back for support. “Let’s get these useless things off.” He cut off your panties in an instant with his claws.

“Your egos too high,” you spoke. “And your mouth is too smart it would be best if I stuff you quiet.” What huh.” You asked not fully registering what he meant. The leftover fabric of your panties was stuffed in your mouth.

“That’s better.” One of his hands gripped your thigh tighter as the other worked off his golden claws and gloves. You waited watching his every move. His fingers were abnormally long and slender. He also had claw-like fingernails on all but two of his middle fingers. You didn’t think Mr. Crowley would get any pussy he seemed too busy but you were wrong. He knew exactly what to do massaging your clit while teasing your fluttering hole.

Your moans could be heard through your gag. “Feels good huh?” I can tell it does look at how you’ll suck me up.” He inserted his finger then and your heat greedily accepted him.

“See I’m always right!” You ready to take the next one? He questioned inbetween tasting your juices on his finger. You shook your head quickly slightly ashamed at your eagerness. The stretch felt heavenly to the point where you sunk your hips down further on his fingers.

“So needy huh? You needed this Y/n you need me huh?” You shook your head again grinding yourself up and down on his fingers. By now your pussy was so wet it started to make lewd sounds.

They got louder and louder the longer you fucked yourself on his fingers. Crowley sat back admiring the view. Your pussy was on full display since your uniform skirt was lifted. You felt his eyes burning onto you. His gaze wasn’t a judgemental but a loving one.

He realized how much of a slut he just found. He would just have to train you to realize it. But you were quickly breaking out of your box. Your moans were turning into whines. You were close now bouncing on his curved fingers like a fuck rabbit.

Your hands dug into his shoulders landing on his soft feather-filled Shaw. You buried your face in his neck too ashamed to face him. “Most women would get tired by now and want me to fuck them. I guess you young ones have more stamina.”

He was such a talkative asshole you wish that he would shut up. But you couldn’t stop now when you were so close to cumming. You were so close to letting go your juices were dripping down his fingers wetting his dress shirt.

“Such a loud sloppy mess for me. You’re doing so good Let me see how you feel with this.” He stopped all motion leaving you breathless. For a second you were hopeless that he was gonna help you finish. But his hands boosted your thighs up now your pussy was nearing his mouth.

You gasped into your gag you were high up now with no support other than his hair to hold. “Shh calm down I never dropped anyone doing this. Just give in everything will be okay.” He spoke sending vibrations and chills up your already shakey spine. He licked up around your thighs purposefully missing your needy parts. You whined pulling him forward. “Lick here.” You tried to illustrate through your gag.

This was the longest you’ve been edged your entire impatient life. You used your tongue to push your gag out you could’ve taken being bound any longer. “Headmage please I need your mouth. I need to cum or I think I’ll go crazy. Now stop being a fucking tease,” you demanded. “That’s not nice language young lady.” Okay, I’m sorry I’m sorry,” you pleaded.

“Fine, I’ll be kind enough to spare you.” Ahh! You screamed being unexpectedly dropped. You were back on Crowley's lap then you were back on the desk. You spread your legs again and finally after what felt like forever his mouth met your clit.

You wrapped your legs around his head tightly. “You’re not escaping this bit.” No problem I can stay like this for hours,” he murmured. He began to lap up your juices that had pilled up from all his teasing.

“Mmm, that feels good.” Doesn't it baby I heard my head game is superior.” Stop hearing and start focusing,” you instructed. “You’re insufferable,” you sighed. “And you're sweet so sweet,” he explained through slurps.

“Mmm Crowley,” you groaned. “You’re so naughty y/n I feel you twitching on my tongue. Are you about to cum? You must be look at how you’re shaking.” You hadn’t even noticed that how your body was reacting.

“Yes I’m about to cum!” Hmm,” he pondered. “Should I really let you cum? I don’t think this naughty pussy deserves it.” He teased while slapping your clit. You tightened in surprise and sprung up. “Crowley!”

“Fuck please just let me I’ve been waiting so long.” He gave you a reassuring glance latching his mouth to your clit. This time you knew he would allow you to cum. He didn’t let up for a second not even to breathe.

His mask partially lifted but you were too out of it to look at his secret identity. Your vision began to blur so you just shut your eyes as tight as they could go. Crowley didn’t like how your body was pulling away so his arm held your stomach down.

There was no escaping his tounges harsh attack even after you began to cum. He continued prolonging your orgasm. Your toes curled and even the iron grip he had on your waist wasn’t enough to stop you from shaking.

“Fuck I’m gonna! Ahh, I’m gonna squirt if you keep that up,” you warned. “I don’t mind the mess my dear but I do mind your volume.” He explained before pulling you into a smothering kiss.

You let go completely over his lanky fingers. “Headmage!! You screamed into his mouth. His tongue swayed across yours muffling your sound. “Ahh.” You sighed relieved that your edging was over. You were trying to relax your breathing for a moment before you hit Crowley. “What the fuck why are you such a tease?!”

“I have to be and anyways you should be grateful look at how hard you came.” You left my desk all sticky.” Well it’s gonna stay that way,” you chuckled. You slid off his desk pulling your panties back up.

“C’mon don’t leave my little stress reliever. Don’t you want to help your dear Headmage out a little more after I was so kind to you?” He grabbed his buldge and for a second you wanted to go back down on your knees.

But the bell ringing distracted your thoughts. “I need to be a good student like I said earlier. So bye Crowley. You left leaving him a hard insatiable mess.

[winchesterszvonecek]

Can I request something where a reader-insert gets injured protecting Crowley, please? c:

Take the Hit - [ Crowley ]

Summary: Crowley finds out exactly how you feel about him when you take the hit that was meant to kill him

Word Count: 1470

Warnings: female!reader, mentions of blood, brief violence

A/N: i feel like this sucks but i hope it was okay!

Masterlist | Crowley Masterlist

You always were one to put others before yourself. To offer your life in exchange for theirs. It’s one thing your brothers hated about you, the fact that you were so willing to give yourself up for others, whether it be family, friends or complete strangers.

Which was completely ‘pot calling the kettle black’ as you couldn’t count the amount of times they’d given up their own lives for someone. But you just figured it was because you were technically the baby of the family, despite the fact that you were two years older than Sam… The boys didn’t want to tell you straight up that it was because you were a woman as they knew you’d kick their asses for even saying it.

Half of the time you had to threaten Dean with violence against the Impala for him to let you join them on hunts, even though you were one hell of a hunter who’d proven many times that you were capable of looking after yourself. You knew Dean was just being protective, as he had been all your life, but part of you knew that the reason he didn’t want you leaving the safety of the bunker anymore was because of Crowley.

Ever since Crowley’s run with human blood, the two of you had developed a bond, one that your brothers were not pleased with. Nor were they pleased to find out you’d been sneaking into the dungeon to talk to him at night when he’d been chained up inside, against your brother's orders that you weren’t to go anywhere near him. That had not been a fun conversation. Not one bit.

You didn’t know what this connection was you had with the King of Hell himself, whether it was from loneliness, as oftentimes you were left alone in the bunker and it’s not like there was anyone else for you to talk to, or whether it was something else entirely, you had no idea. All you knew was that you liked it.

You enjoyed Crowley’s company. You enjoyed talking to him. Having conversations that weren’t filled with jokes and innuendos, much like those in which you’d had with him around the others. These talks were more deep. More personal. Something you didn’t want to share with anyone else.

Crowley understood you. He listened to you. He allowed you to vent about things that you wouldn’t dare say around your brothers. You knew he’d never repeat what you said, not when he was still so hopped up on human blood that he was technically one himself, which is partially the reason as to why he even seemed to care about you. And you were surprised to find out that he still did once he returned to full demon… Well, almost full.

The entire time you’d known him, Crowley had never treated you any differently from your brothers. Never acted as though you couldn’t handle yourself, or looked down upon you because you were a woman. One who was much shorter than that of your gigantic brothers. He knew what you were capable of. Knew you could handle yourself in a fight. All in all he treated you like the hunter you were, which is why the second you saw that angel blade moving towards him, you knew you had to save him.

“Crowley!” You shouted, gaining his attention as you moved quicker than ever before, throwing yourself in front of the blade that might have killed him had you not taken the hit for him.

You gasped harshly as the blade penetrated your stomach, the tip of it almost coming straight out your back. Your skin burned fierce as you fell back against Crowley, who stood directly behind you, his arms catching you before you hit the ground.

“Easy, darling.” Crowley said softly, lowering you to the ground as he held you in his arms, watching as you choked on your own blood, your hands fumbling blindly around the wound in which the angel blade still stuck out of. “Don’t. You pull that out, you die… You understand me?” He added, his voice wavering a touch that only you could hear it.

“I’m sorry… I… She… She got in the way.” The hunter who’d stabbed you babbled out, his mouth gaped from shock. From confusion as to why a Winchester would take the hit for a demon. But before he, or anyone else for that matter, could say anything, Crowley raised his hand and with a quick twist of it, the hunter fell dead to the floor. His neck broken.

“C-Crowley.” You spluttered, blood spewing out of your mouth, dripping down your chin as you breathed raggedly, gasping for air which you couldn’t seem to get into your lungs. You couldn’t begin to explain the pain in which you felt. The burning sensation inside your stomach. Yet at the same time you felt numb. Cold. Like you didn’t have many ragged breaths left in you.

“You’re okay, darling.” Crowley soothed, brushing your hair from your face before the two of you vanished, the warehouse around you changing before your very eyes and before you knew it, you were in the hospital. “Can I get some help here?”

The hospital staff were quick to swarm you, your body landing on a gurney, wheeling you away from Crowley who stood anxiously by the nurses station. He knew your wound was bad. Knew it may very well kill you. And he knew he shouldn’t care. That he should find joy in the death of a Winchester but things were different now. Especially between the two of you.

He’d never dream of seeing you dead. Or your brothers for that matter. He’d never dream of laying a hand on you. Never dream of putting you in harm's way and yet somehow, without even meaning to, without even doing anything but being present at that warehouse, he’d gone and hurt you. He’d done the one thing which he swore he’d never do again, he’d hurt you, and if you didn’t pull through, he wasn’t quite sure what he’d do afterwards… That is, if your brothers didn’t kill him first, which to be honest, he probably wouldn’t even fight at that point.

The wait for news on you was long, even for a demon, but the second he heard your name being called by the doctor, he was on his feet faster than ever before. And when the doctor told him you’d survived, that you’d pulled through, well he very nearly found himself thanking God.

“You scared me.” He said softly, the second he saw your eyes flutter open as you lay still on the hospital bed.

“You’re a demon…” You said weakly, trying your best to smile. “You shouldn’t get scared.” You finished, coughing lightly as you turned to look at him. He looked so normal sitting by your side, his coat draped over the back of the chair and his suit jacket unbuttoned. It was as though he was human.

“You and I both know I’m not a regular demon, darling.” He said with a touch of humour now that you’d seemed to have regained yours. He stood up, stepping closer to you as his hand lingered in the air, as though he was unsure whether you’d want him to touch you.

“You can touch me.” You whispered, watching as the faintest smile rose on his face, one that would go unnoticed by those who didn’t truly know Crowley. Not like you did anyway. His hand landed atop your forehead, feeling the heat radiate from your skin as you closed your eyes briefly, relishing in his touch.

“Why did you save me?” He asked in a whisper, your eyes opening slowly as your gaze shifted from him a little. “Why did you take the hit?”

“Because I couldn’t… I...” You croaked out, lip trembling as your eyes began to water. “I couldn’t let him kill you.” You finished, your voice breaking as you finally turned to look at him again. He reached down, gently wiping away the tear that had rolled down your cheek.

“You know, there was a time in which you’d have been the one behind the blade, not the one diving in front of it.” He said as you sniffled, bringing your own hand up to wipe at your eyes.

“Times have changed.” You whispered, a quiet sob escaping up your throat and leaving your lips as nothing but a breathy sigh, one which told Crowley all he needed to know about you. And the way you felt about him. You could see him moving, feel him getting closer and the second his lips brushed against yours, allowing you to feel the roughness of his beard, you very nearly passed out again.

“That they have, darling, that they have.”

Like this? Apply to my Crowley tag list here!

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[pinkiebieberpie]

Crowley as a husband, please? ♡

HUSBAND CROWLEY HEADCANONS

i honestly think he would be a really good husband,

he would do anything just to make his wife happy,

whatever you want - you got it!!

he would call you his queen all the time (to the point it's a bit annoying, but still pretty sweet),

he may not seem like it but he's very clingy,

"your skin is so soft, my love"

his love language is buying you gifts,

for some reason i don't think you two would have kids (your job is to raise hell, not kids),

he loves kissing your body, every part of it,

touch starved man!!!

calling you his sweet little demon (even if you aren't one),

obvious you have black wedding rings,

you call him 'king' only in bed and only if you are in the mood for it,

summer vacations in most exotic places, he loves to spoil you,

he LOVES when you are playing with his hellhounds (they are just cute little puppies 🥺);

supernatural masterlist

[samdeancass]

Only Us

Requested by: @desimarie12

Pairing: Crowley x fem!reader

Genre: Smut

Characters: Y/N, Crowley

Description: Y/N and Crowley are in a secret relationship. They show they both hate each other when they’re around other people which can lead to punishments in the bedroom.

You and Crowley were a match made in hell although your relationship would be very much frowned upon, even hated, if anyone ever found out. You were a hunter and he was the king of hell. That’s why you both had to put on an act when your hunts collided with his demon activities, especially when you were with the Winchesters. 

“Ah, Moose and Squirrel, we meet again. And you, little mouse. You look rather beautiful today.” Crowley shot you a smirk as he looked you up and down. Sam stepped in front of you to shield you from Crowley’s view. You shook your head and flashed him a smile before saying. “Nice to see you again, Fergus. Tell me, when exactly are you going to become useful and stop interfering with everything.”

The smirk completely vanished from Crowley’s features and was replaced with a snarl whilst Sam and Dean were nearly on the floor with laughter. “I’m sorry Crowley, but you just got owned.” 

Keeping the relationship a secret made things a lot more exciting when you were both reunited with the other. Feelings were heightened from the pent up frustrations of the hateful words said but you both knew that there was nothing meant by them. You loved it, though, when Crowley was frustrated because it meant that he would take it out on you and you thrived off it.

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He had you pinned up against the wall, his hand squeezing the corners of your throat and small, black circles began to invade your sight. 

“How about I show you just how useful I can be, eh?” He pressed his lips against yours, both fighting for dominance. Crowley’s frustration fueled him, letting him win the fight. His tongue explored your mouth as your hands found their way to the back of his head, pulling on the small strands at the base.

He broke apart the kiss, earning a frustrated groan from you. “Ah,ah, princess. You were a bad girl today and you deserve to be punished.” Grabbing both of your wrists in one of his hands, he held them above your head as he explored your body with the other. 

You could feel your breathing become more ragged as the familiar knot in your stomach grew. Seeing Crowley this dominant and knowing that you were doing something you weren’t supposed to spurred you on. Crowley’s hand found your heat and your breath hitched as his fingers danced over it. 

He chuckled at your reaction and brought you in for a kiss as he plunged two fingers inside you and immediately began pumping, not even giving you a chance to adjust. You moaned into his mouth as his movements quickened, the knot becoming tighter and tighter. Not being able to touch him just turned you on even more, adding to the nearing orgasm. 

You fell apart on his fingers when he added a third, completely stretching you out. He finger fucked you through your orgasm, smiling widely at the pretty sounds you made. Pulling out his fingers, Crowley lifted your chin so you were eye level with him before slowly putting his fingers into your mouth, groaning as you tasted yourself on his fingers.

“I suppose I’m useful enough to make you cum, eh? To fuck? How about I leave you like this until you learn how to be a good girl, yeah?” He kissed you once again, full of passion and frustration, before biting your lip and exiting the room, leaving you so desperate for more of him.

Damn, you loved it when he played dirty.

Supernatural Tags:

@akshi8278​ @bxoken-heartss​ @deascheck​

[filmtv2022]

Ineffable Agony

Pairing: Aziraphale x Platonic!Reader x Crowley

Synopsis: One quiet night, Aziraphale and Crowley's world is rocked. A fallen angel is dropped on their doorstep. Their very presence shoves the reality of their Earthly partnership back into view and calls into question the very stability of Heaven and Hell. Aziraphale and Crowley struggle not only to understand the depth of the situation they've found themselves in but also to save the reader.

Warning: bleeding/blood loss + death.

A/N: I tried my best to use gender-neutral language in this one. The reader does have hair, but other than that, I think their physicality is fairly nondescript. As always, I apologize for any mistakes. It's getting late & I'm super tired.

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Warm light spilled out of the wide windows of A.Z. Fell and Co: Antiquarian and Unusual Books. Inside, surrounded by unruly shelves and half-empty bottles of red wine sat the oddest and most right pair in celestial history. Aziraphale had long since set aside his glass of wine, forgoing further intoxication for a steaming cup of hot chocolate. Crowley on the other hand had continued to sip away, which glass or bottle he was on remained a bit unclear.

Feeling his head turning fuzzy, the demon slowed his pace of consumption, his eyelids heavy with exhaustion and inebriation. In the days post averting the apocalypse, Aziraphale and Crowley found themselves settling into this new life. One free from apparent oversight from both Heaven and Hell. The two indulged in human luxury wherever and whenever they liked, unencumbered by the pull from their respective head offices. For the first time in millennia, they felt truly free to live as they liked, and what a life it was.  

“How does breakfast at the Ritz sound, Angel? I think I could do with a nice morning out, feeding the ducks, fancy tea… or perhaps we'll pop over to France for some crepes?” 

“That sounds lovely. ” Smiling sweetly at Crowley, he swallowed the last bit of his drink before standing to return the dirty cup to the sink in the back. 

A sudden burst of white light flashed like the sun, flooding the space before being replaced by the wretched orange and red of hell fire, stopping him in his tracks. Inky darkness replaced the flare as fast as it happened. Snapping his attention to the entrance, Aziraphale stood in observation waiting in anticipation for something more to happen. Having seen, the display from his seat, Crowley stood and joined the Angel.

“What’s going on?” 

“I…I don’t know. There was a…”

A sudden thump of something heavy smacking into the door forced him to stop speaking. To the human senses, nothing seemed out of place, the world continued to move just as it always had, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. The air began to thrum with energy, the waves pouring into the store erratically, their intensity growing stronger the longer it went on. Crowley hissed, a guttural reaction to the feel of pain that roared through them both. Fighting to stay upright, Aziraphle gripped the demon’s shoulders as he doubled over in pain.

“Are you all right?” Pushing aside the ache that filled his own head, Aziraphale struggled to focus on the present, caught between concern for Crowley and whatever… or whoever was causing this to happen. 

“I’m fine, just dandy, but I’d be better if my insides weren’t twisting around knots.” 

“Yes, of course.”

Closing his eyes, the angel searched for a miracle, one strong enough to put an end to the horrific suffering that flowed freely into the room. Celestial magic hummed over his skin but died as he worked to make it so. Trying again, and failing, dread bubbled hot in in Zira’s chest. 

“It’s not working!”

“Obviously!” 

Groaning, Crowley clutched at his stomach as Aziraphale whimpered next to him. The angel’s head was full to the bursting point as if his mind was being ripped apart at the seams.

“I… I don’t know what to do!” 

Forcing himself to stand to his full height, Crowley removed himself from the angel’s hold, “Fine, I’ll finish this myself.” 

He too searched for a miracle. The darkness of his own magic flooded over his senses as he worked, but nothing happened. The lick of heat that always accompanied his miracles ran cold, leaving a chill over his skin in its absence. Aziraphale’s knees buckled as the pressure in his skull intensified. Dropping to the ground with him, Crowley held onto his angel.

Then as quickly as it started, the vibrations ceased to exist. Panting hard, the pair stood up on shaky legs. Crowley’s hand stayed firm on Aizraphale’s back, helping the Angel along as well as grounding himself. Stumbling toward the door, Zirh’s fingers trembled as he reached for the handle. Glancing at Crowley, he waited for some sign of reassurance, which was freely given in the form of a nearly imperceptible nod. Opening the door, their eyes immediately fell on the torn figure slumped face down on the ground before them. Slashes cut through their jacket and pants, the flesh below ripped to shreds and bleeding heavily. Ichor coated the surface of the stoop, pooling in a wide swath before spilling down the step. Kneeling down to see things more clearly, Aziraphale gently rolled over the stranger, the gore staining his hands red. 

“They’re an angel.” Laying them on their back, his fingers felt for a pulse. It was weak, barely more than a flutter, but it was there.

“Not anymore.” Crowley gritted his teeth as he spoke, the realization of what had happened hitting too close to home, “They’ve been cast down.”

“Cast down? But Heaven they’ve… they’ve taken…” 

“Taken their wings, yes.” 

“That’s not supposed to happen?” 

“And yet it did.” 

“Why?”

“Why not? It certainly makes a statement.” Reaching for their hand, Crowley slowly unfurled their fist, removing the gore-soaked paper from within. 

“A statement for who?”

“Us.” Peeling apart the folds, Crowley read the smeared words aloud, “To the attention of one A.Z. Fell & Anthony J. Crowley. Your actions have consequences that reach far behind the realms of Heaven and Hell. You’ve set something in motion that must be stopped.” 

Locking eyes with the demon, Zira struggles to find words, “What does this mean?”

“I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough.” 

Scooping the fallen angel into his arms, Crowley deftly made his way toward the second floor of the bookshop. Finding the first door on the right partially open, he pushed it open with his foot. A couple of strong strides had him standing next to the bed, scanning over their face for any sign of familiarity. Finding nothing, he placed them down on the mattress on their side before turning his attention to the wounds. Trying yet again to use his magic, Crowley reached out in search of a way to staunch the flow. The stream slowed slightly, but not nearly enough.

“The bleeding won’t stop.” Waiting for an answer, he pushed his palms into the worst of the gashes, but when no response came, he shouted for assistance, “Angel, a little help here!”

“Oh, yes!” knocked back into reality, Aziraphale made his way to the bed, his stained hands once again reaching for the being before him. Using what little magic he could muster, he managed to lessen the bleeding to a trickle.

Feeling it still running between his fingers, Crowley’s head dropped between his shoulders, a deep exhale releasing as he tried to let go of the panic coursing through his system. It was an unnatural state for the demon, one that he’d only felt a few other times in his 6,000 years of life. He’d done a keen job of compartmentalizing the memory of his own fall, relegating it to the deepest depths of his mind. This, however, hit too close to home. While he’d been lucky enough to keep his wings, the transition from Heavinly Being to a Demon of Hell was horrific at best. The darkness, the pain… the loneliness. It was all too much to think about even now, all these years later. 

Letting go of his hold on their wounds, Crowley gingerly placed them on their back, hoping the pressure who stop the rest of the bleeding. Sinking down beside the bed, he rested his head back on the mattress and closed his eyes tightly.

“What could they possibly have done to deserve this?” Aziraphale’s voice cracked as he spoke, his eyes never leaving their face. Brushing his fingers over their hair, he pushed the blood-coated strands out of the way.

“We better hope they wake up so we can find out.” Standing up, Crowley stalked out of the room, pounding down the hall toward the bathroom. 

Turning on the water, he let it pour from the faucet until steam rolled from the stream. Hot enough to scald, he scrubbed vigorously at his hands. The red of the gore was replaced by the angry color of his skin beneath as he fought to rid himself of the stains. Standing in the doorway to the bathroom, Aziraphale watched in concern, his brows furrowed at the sight before. Losing control of himself, Crowley snapped off the water, slamming his fists down upon the porcelain and letting loose a rage-filled growl. Pushing his way past the angel, he pounded down the stairs toward the front door.

Following in his wake, Zira called to his demon, “Where are you going?”

“To find out what in the hell is going on?” 

“But what if something happens… I-I should come with you.”

Snapping around, Crowley’s yellow eyes stopped Aziraphale in his tracks, “Stay here, take care of the angel… demon… thing. I’ll be back, I promise.” 

Nodding in agreement, Aziraphale watched Crowley drive away, the Bentley tires screaming along the pavement.

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

Agonizing flashes of pain radiated from the jagged wounds as cold sweat coated your skin turning into a slick mess of drying blood and perspiration. Spasms racked your body, each one more powerful than the last. You were dying, or so you thought. But what did that really mean for angel turned demon? You were even really alive to begin with? Where would your ‘death’ leave you? Certainly not in Heaven, they’d made it quite clear you were no longer welcome amongst their kind. So that left two other options. One being an eternity in Hell, rotting away with the other demons. The other was much more frightening… nothingness, your soul relegated to the black void somewhere between the realms. Alone. Cold. Unneeded… Unwanted. Stuck in purgatory for all time. 

Time ceased to exist, and all sounds and feelings apart from the physical and mental torment fell away as you were trapped in the endless cycle of pain. Giving into it all, you allowed yourself to fall further away from the light. The beacons of Heaven were only a dim glow on the horizon. Their cool white was replaced by the furious red of the gates below. It was warm, welcoming even. It would have been so easy to let go, to surrender, and yet some small part of you keep a firm hold on the life you’d had before. Unable, or perhaps unwilling, to relinquish it fully.

The gentle press of a hand against your cheek pulled a quiet whimper from you, the touch kind and comforting. A tender voice spoke in a low mumble, their words unclear, but their intentions certain. There was something familiar about it as if a long-lost friend had come to visit. 

“I’m so sorry, but this is going to hurt.” 

Undoing the buttons of your shirt, the person gingerly pulled you into their chest, your forehead resting on their shoulder as they removed your top. A strangled groan fell from your lips at their ministrations.

“I know, I know.” Smoothing over your hair, they laid you back on the bed, this time on your side so they could access your body. 

Walking around to the other side of the bed, they began the delicate work of cleaning the wounds. Rag and after rag came away crimson, and the cloths were discarded nearby on the floor. Slowly, but surely, the gashes were stitched and covered. Finished closing the wounds, they began to wash away the rest of the blood as best they could. The task was slow and tedious. 

“There, that’s better. Now. let’s get you some fresh clothes.” 

Standing from the bed, Aziraphale sought out a pair of his pajamas. Returning to your side, he slipped the jumper over your head and shoulders, taking great care to not bump your most tender spots. Moving on, he carefully peeled away your trousers, the white was splotched with darkening red. Dropping them on the pile of used rags, he then shimmied the plaid bottoms over your frame. His hands were unsure and timid as he moved. 

Once again laying flat on your back, Zira pulled a blanket over you. Taking a moment to adjust the pillows, he sank back down into the spot next to you, his hands wrapping warmly around your own. 

“Who are you?” 

The previous question was barely more than a whisper, making the utterance of a name from your lips even more surprising. With eyes closed tight, and no other signs of consciousness, a singular word tumbled out for him to hear.

“Aziraphale…” 

Zira was left speechless. What about him? Why were saying his name? 

In a measure of cosmic timing, the telephone downstairs began to ring. It’s incessant trill bounding off the walls, calling to the angel. Leaving his spot, he was forced to let go of your hands. The loss of his touch caused a pained look to contort your features.

“I’ll be right back, don’t you worry.” 

Silence fell over the room, as Aziraphale quietly closed the door behind himself, leaving you alone. It was as if in his absence the darkness began to creep back in, closing the distance between you and the void. Black hands reached for you, threatening to drag you away from the world of the living. Fighting against their searing grip, your body twitched and thrashed on the bed. Soon the motions were followed by gasping screams, the sounds shrill and bloodcurdling flew down the stairs toward Aziraphale. The pounding of footfalls was masked by the blistering screeches from Hell that rang in your ears. Soft hands gripped your shoulders, calling to you through the panic.

“I’m here, I’m…” Placing his palm on the side of your head, the heat rolling off your skin nearly burned him. Knowing he needed to act quickly, he flooded your mind with celestial light. Instantly, your body began to relax and your temperature dropped.

Falling limp against the pillows, your chest rose and fell in rapid succession. Sweat had soaked through the collar of the shirt, staining it darker than the rest. Aziraphale’s fingertips ran in soft arcs down your face as he continued to murmur words of comfort. Fearful of leaving your side again, he yanked the chair from the corner of the room to the side of the bed. Clasping your hand in his, he took a seat and waited. Crowley would be back soon enough, he’d promised.

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

Hours passed and eventually, sleep overtook Aziraphale. Slumping back in the chair, he managed to keep a hold of your hand. Returning to the bookshop with little to no information in hand, Crowley made his way upstairs in search of his Angel. The door to the first guest room was flung wide open, and he was greeted with the image of Zira fast asleep, the lines of worry still creased between his brows. With his promise to return in mind, Crowley softly shook the angel awake. 

“You’re back.”

“I promised, didn’t I.” 

“Of course, What did you find out?”

“Not much. Nothing seems out of place, and the lines between Hell and Earth are quiet. Whatever this is, it’s either from Heaven alone or somebody’s going to dangerous lengths to keep it hidden.” 

“Hidden? They were dropped on our front porch! How is that hidden?” 

“You’ve got a point, but it doesn’t change the fact that there's nothing on the radar.” Turning to look at the stranger on the bed, Crowley’s tone softened as he spoke again, “How are they doing?” 

“As best as can be expected… there was so much blood.” Shifting forward, Aziraphale adjusted his grip on your hand, “They spoke in their sleep while you were away. It didn’t make sense, but they spoke.”

“What did they say?”

“My name…”

“You name? As in Aziraphale, Angel of the Eastern Gate, giver of the flaming sword and forestaller of the end of days” 

“That’s what I’ve said isn’t it?” Impatience touching the edge of the question.

“Yes, but how would they know your name?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea…” 

Crowley’s thoughts raced at the realization of what that could mean for Heaven. If they had fallen so far as to mutilate those they cast down then things were much worse off than he’d ever expected.

“Perhaps Heaven’s become more like Hell than they’d ever care to admit.” 

Stunned into silence, the pair sat quietly for a while, observing the rise and fall of your chest. The steady movement was just enough to ease some of the worries that festered. 

“There was one other thing they said while you were gone?”

“Yes?” 

“The phone rang while you were out, when I left to answer, they… they started to scream—terrible screeching wails, as if… as if Hell itself was coming for them. And when I returned, their skin… it was burning like fire. Between the screams, they were calling for you.”

“Me?”

Nodding yes, he continued on, “Over and over, begging… pleading for you. They know us Crowley, and yet I’m sure I’ve never seen this face before.” 

“Neither have I.” 

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

Morning broke over the quaint yet busy street, and the rumble of cars and voices floated in from outside. Your eyes fluttered open, and the unchecked sunlight beaming into the room assaulted your sensitive eyes. Hissing at the daggers of light, your whole body recoiled. Slamming your lids shut again, you scrambled back to retreat from the intrusive light. The mangled flesh of your back crashed against the headboard in your attempt to flee from the light. The sudden movement sent shockwaves through your body as the stitches in your wounds tugged sharply. Hearing and feeling your stir, Aziraphale and Crowley sat bolt upright in their respective positions. Zira in the same chair as the night before, and Crowley in the vanity chair across the room. 

Catching your attempt to flee from the overwhelming sensations, Aizraphale reached for your shoulders and tried his best to push you back down into the pillows. His sure hands were commanding and gentle as they kept you from hurting yourself further. 

“You’re all right. Careful now or you’ll rip your stitches.” 

Simultaneously, Crowley was up out of his chair, his own hand coming up to grip your chin, holding your face in his direction. Your eyes flew open again as if called to look by some hell-born bond. And what he saw brought a moment of hesitation. The whites of your eyes were flooded with a sickening crimson as if every blood vessel had burst. While your pupils were blown large, covering nearly the entirety of your eyes. Shaking off the unsettling nature of your appearance, the demon deftly removed his sunglasses and placed them on your face. 

“It’s their eyes, they’re not used to the light.” Stepping back, Crowley reached out a hand to Aziraphale, pushing him away from you, “Careful, Angel, emotions can be a bit unsteady.” 

“It’s all right, Crowley. As you said, they’re in pain, why don’t you let me help.” 

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” 

“Nonsense!” stepping back to your side, Aziraphale’s fingertips aligned with your temples as a gentle light filled the room.

Your breathing began to slow as the ache faded both mentally and physically. Slowly, you opened your eyes, finding that the dark lenses made the world around you much more bearable to view. Weakness replaced the pain leaving you incapable of moving, your power sat dormant, but hot beneath your skin. The heady mix of emotions melded together in what was certain to become an explosive combination. 

Pushing down the flames, you spoke as if greeting old friends, “Crowley… Aziraphale… finally.” 

“How do you know our names?” Zira’s question was far from accusatory.

“Oh Aziraphale, I’ve known you for thousands of years… the same goes for you, Crowley.” 

“Who are you? Why do you know us?” Crowley on the other hand couldn’t help the accusation that threaded over his words.

Tilting your head to the side, you focused on him. The yellow of his snake-like eyes glinted in the sun, strong and fierce in demeanor. 

“It was my job, to know you, to follow your biddings here on Earth. Like a celestial watchdog, I suppose.” 

“Watchdog?” Crowley tensed at the very thought of Heaven having watched him for millennia after his fall. 

“Yes. It was my job to track your movements, particularly in the years since your delivery of the AntiChrist. Well, you and Aziraphale. There was some… hesitation regarding the pair of you, given your shared history of questionable decision-making. Need I mention your flaming sword and apple debacles?” Your voice was weak and breathy as if speaking drained you of what little energy you’d recouped.

“All right, no need to rub it in. Enough about us, you’ve yet to answer our other question, demon. Who are you?” 

“Well, I don’t know how this works exactly, but I suppose my angelic name will do for now. I’m Y/N.” 

“And why are you here… Y/N?” Aziraphale uttered your name sweetly as if to encourage you to continue. 

“It’s simple really, I’m the same as you, Crowley. I asked too many questions… I doubted the ineffable plan.” Sinking further back into the pillows, you turned your head to look at the demon. 

“You what? Why?” Aziraphaled asked in shock.

“Because… you were happy.” Shifting your body slightly so that you could gaze at him, you felt a warm hand wrap around your own, “And the more I watched you here on Earth enjoying your lives together, the humanity … it made me think. Why were we going to end it all? And after such a short time as well? I saw how you looked at the world and couldn’t imagine it ceasing to exist. But even more than that… I couldn’t bear the thought of…” 

Your voice caught in your throat as a fresh spasm racked your frame. The tightening of the muscles along the expanse of your back ripped the air from your lungs causing you to gasp and groan. Folding forward at the waist, the glasses slipped down your nose exposing your eyes to the blinding rays once again. Desperate to block it out, you pressed the heel of your palms into your eyes knocking the sunglasses onto the blanket covering your lap. Steady vibrations rolled through the space around you as your power spilled out unchecked. A blood-curdling wail tore from your lips as your skin flushed hot from the touch of Hell once more. Shocked by the sounds, Aziraphale took a few steps back, putting some distance between the two of you.

Crowley had returned to your side, his strong hands holding tightly to your biceps. The heat of your skin burned and blistered his palms, and yet he remained unfazed. 

“Y/N, Y/N, listen to- listen to me. You’ve got to push away, you’ve got to fight against it!”

Gripping you tightly, he watched as your body spasmed beneath his touch. Blood soon tinged the light cream of the jumper you were wearing, the sudden movements having torn the stitches from your flesh. Furthermore, the heat radiating from within you singed the fabric, leaving behind blackened holes in its wake. A wet gurgle accompanied your labored breathing as if you were drowning on dry land. Coughing and choking, a blackish liquid oozed out the corners of your mouth, the scene grew more horrific as the substances ran down the exposed column of your neck. Crowley’s palms smoothed over it, wiping away the mess as best he could, but it just kept coming. Every wet hack brought more of it flooding out to replace what he’d tried to clean up. 

“Crowley! Crowley, what’s happening?” Stammering, Aziraphale was frozen to his spot.

“They’re dying, the transition is consuming them.”

“But I thought-”

“Whatever you thought about this was wrong, Angel. This is the reality.”

“But I… what we can do?” 

“There’s nothing we can do except ease their pain and hope for the best. It’s up to them now. Either they find the strength to fight against the darkness or it consumes them.” 

Trembling, Zira moved to your side and eased himself down onto the bed. Cautiously, he reached out to touch you, his hand brushing over Crowley’s as he sought out your temples. 

Turning his head to look at the demon, Aziraphale whispered one simple word, “Together.” 

Understanding what he meant, Crowley nodded his head silently. Placing the pads of their fingers along your hairline, the two worked to rid you of the pain. A calming wash of peace flooded over you, chasing out the panic and terror. Your hot skin now sat cool to the touch, and the blisters covering Crowley’s hands began to heal. Slowly, your breathing regulated and the crackling wetness ceased to hinder your lungs. Serene peace settled over your features as they untwisted from the pain. Sensing that the limit of help and available miracles for this situation had been reached, both Crowley and Aziraphale sat back. Their eyes never left you as they watched for signs that their magic had failed. Zira was the first to speak

“What do we do now?”

“We wait.” 

“For how long?”

“Not long now I think.” Crowley’s voice was thick with emotion. 

Tracking the rise and fall of your chest, the pair watched as the movement became more erratic. The time between inhales turned more inconsistent and further apart the longer time went on. Eventually, it stopped altogether, and the last vestiges of pain fell from your features leaving behind a mask of perfect peace. 

“What do we do now?” Zira asked in shock.

“We find out who the hell is responsible and we make them bleed” Looking Aziraphle in the eyes, Crowley's own brimmed with emotion, “But more importantly, we live, we live for them.

[tismrot]

CROWLEY, ready to 🙂party🙂 (1991) - unedited.

Made, of course for this fic!

I would go with him anywhere. I’d go do SO Poor Life Decisions with this fallen angel.

[bi-bard]

When a Demon Stumbles onto the Doorstep of a Bookshop - Crowley Imagine [Good Omens]

Title: When a Demon Stumbles onto the Doorstep of a Bookshop

Pairing: Crowley X Reader

Word Count: 1,944 words

Warning(s): **SEASON 2 SPOILERS** mention of abandonment, drunk character

Summary: [Post-Season 2] After Aziraphale's departure, (Y/n) joins Muriel in the goal of taking care of the bookshop and the tasks that may come with that. One of those many tasks includes being prepared for the moment that a familiar demon finds his way to the doorstep at odd hours of the night.

Author's Note: Listen. I said that I was going to focus on my writing challenges. I know. But someone made this headcanon on Tiktok and I couldn't shake it. If anyone has the user, please let me know because I cannot find it, but I might also just be stupid.

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

When I first found Muriel in charge of Aziraphale's bookshop, I knew that I needed to step in and help where I could.

Well, that's not quite right.

I actually started off very scared.

After what had happened the night before that with the legion of demons coming to attack and Crowley ushering everyone away from the building, I knew that I needed answers. The only way to get those answers was to get back to the bookshop when the coast seemed to be clear.

If I had slammed the doors open any harder, then they would have surely popped off the hinges.

What I saw was Muriel standing in the middle of the room with a stack of books in their hands. They jumped at the sudden noise, quickly scrambling to keep from dropping the books.

"Oh, you scared me," they said before placing the books on the table. "Hello!"

"Who are you," I asked, ignoring any introduction.

"I am a human police officer," they motioned down at their all-white uniform. Angel. Got it. "And bookshop owner... now."

"Where's Aziraphale?"

"Oh, just... off."

That was the very moment that my fear turned to annoyance and anger. "Off?"

"Yeah... y'know, off."

"Where?"

"Oh, well..."

I stepped forward. "Listen. Aziraphale has been one of the dearest in my life for years now. I know about the angel thing. I know about demons that were here last night. Hell, I know about the failed apocalypse. So, when I hear that he's 'off' and has left his beloved bookshop in the charge of some random angel that I've never seen, I get very upset and very worried. I suggest that you tell me what happened to him."

"I can't-"

"And I suggest that you do it quick because he is not the only celestial being that I have on speed dial."

That seemed to be the only push that Muriel needed to tell me everything that had happened while I was gone. Gabriel's memories coming back, Gabriel and Beelzebub running off together, the offer that Aziraphale had taken, and the one that Crowley had apparently turned down. All of it. Well, as much as Muriel knew at the time.

I stood there for a few moments. Stunned into silence.

"Are you-"

"He didn't even say goodbye," I muttered.

"Well, the Metatron seemed very insistent that he needed to go right away- where are you going?"

I had already turned around and walked out of the bookshop again. I looked down the street before going to grab my phone. I frantically clicked Crowley's contact.

It rang a few times before going to voicemail.

"Crowley," I murmured. "Please, answer. Please. I... I found out about Aziraphale and I... I don't know what to do or where to go. Please."

I hung up and walked a little further down the road, wiping my eyes as tears started falling.

The moment that I went to call him a second time, I heard a car engine racing closer to me. I looked down the road to see the all too familiar Bentley pulling up to the curb next to me.

I put my phone away as he got out of the car.

"Crowley-"

I was cut off by him pulling me into a hug. I hid my face in his shoulder for a moment.

"He didn't even say goodbye," I repeated pathetically.

"Trust me, it would've been worse if he had."

It was then that I knew that we were losing the same person, yet grieving two very different things.

After that day, I made myself a new home in the room that had previously been used by "Jim". I had thrown a bit of a fit about the bookshop being entrusted to some random angel instead of a friend. Muriel was kind enough to let me stay. I think that they needed the help, but I was willing to call it merely an act of kindness if it made them feel better.

I didn't know how beneficial my presence would be in the shop.

I knew that I could help organize and clean. I could protect Aziraphale's precious books and keep Maggie's record shop safe. I could try to teach Muriel how to appear more human. I knew that stuff.

I never expected to become accustomed to Crowley turning up at odd hours of the night, often- if not always- drunk.

He would knock on the door or just barge in, yelling for Aziraphale. He wouldn't stop until I had gone down there and broke the news to him that Aziraphale may not come back. That he might be staying in Heaven forever and we may never be able to see him again.

It hurt. And I imagine that it always will. Having to put him to rest on the couch or watch him stumble back outside.

He always wore his glasses, but the heartbreak was so clear that it passed the lenses too easily.

It was one of those nights that he told me the truth of what happened before Aziraphale left. What happened between them.

I had been startled awake by the loud sound of the door slamming open and shut.

I walked out of my room immediately. Muriel stepped out, but I held a hand out. I had been taking care of this since it all started. I wasn't going to stop now.

I walked downstairs, hearing Crowley calling for his angel as I made it downstairs.

"Angel!" he was spinning in circles as he yelled. "I know that you can hear me! Come here and talk to me!"

"Crowley," I said gently as I approached him. "Stop it."

"Angel!"

"Stop it!"

He didn't listen to me, instead still walking around and spinning as he yelled for Aziraphale to just talk to him.

He didn't stop until I grabbed his wrists and forced him to look at me.

"Stop, Crowley," I tried to keep my voice firm. "This is not going to get Aziraphale to come back! I don't even think that he can hear you! Stop it!"

The demon fell quiet as he stared at me. There was a long pause between us. I immediately began to question what I had said. I was constantly terrified of being too harsh. I didn't want to be some additional reason for Crowley to be hopeless over the whole event.

I grabbed the wine bottle that was sitting in his hand before placing it on the table nearby. "Come on... you're staying here tonight."

He didn't follow me when I tried to drag him over to the small couch.

"Crowley..."

"I don't... I don't want to sleep on that couch."

I frowned at him. "I'm not letting you sleep in your car right now, Crowley."

We both stopped. I had learned a lot about stubbornness over the course of my friendship with Crowley. And he knew that. And I'm certain that some part of him despised teaching me that skill.

"Come on," I said, dragging him toward the staircase. He followed me begrudgingly.

I pulled him to my room and motioned to the small bed in there.

"Go on," I pushed when he didn't move at first.

I heard him grumbling under his breath as he walked over. He somewhat flopped on the mattress, and I shook my head as I went to pull the blanket over him.

"Better?"

"Yeah, sure," he grumbled.

"Want to take off your glasses-"

"Leave them."

He hadn't taken off his glasses in front of me since Aziraphale left. Not that he often did anyway.

I took a deep breath and went to walk away.

"Would you...," he trailed off.

"What," I asked.

"Nothing. Never mind."

There's that stubbornness and closed-off attitude. "What is it, Crowley?"

"Would you stay?" he finally muttered.

"Just stay in here? Sure-"

"I meant lay with me. Please."

I glanced at the minimal empty space next to him for a moment. "Are you sure that you'd be comfortable with that?"

"I'm a demon. I have spent my nights in far more uncomfortable places than a small bed."

One day, I would need to question him on those 'I'm a demon' excuses.

I awkwardly shifted my way under the covers, fixing them over him as I did so. After a few more awkward moments, I reached out and wrapped my arms around his torso quietly. I expected some grumbling or some kind of fight. Nothing happened. Instead, Crowley merely sighed and seemed to relax into the pillow more.

I spent some time thinking. Mainly about whether or not demons actually had any need for sleep or for blankets to keep warm. I had thought about it before.

There was plenty that I knew.

I knew that food was more of a luxury than it was a necessity. I knew that they had a lot more control over things around me than I thought before. I knew that they could travel to and from Hell with a particular elevator or particular stairways.

I also knew that Crowley had the ability to sober himself up in an instant.

He had shown me that trick ages ago because I was curious.

So, when he began showing up at the bookshop while completely drunk, I questioned why he wouldn't sober himself up when on the couch or in his car or on any occasion like this.

It didn't take me very long to figure out why that was the case.

It was grief.

Not just normal grief, but grief for someone who was still very much living and breathing.

There was something so much worse about grieving someone who wasn't even dead yet.

When they aren't dead, there's always some remaining shred of hope that they will choose to come back. Which should be comforting, in theory. But when they don't come back... it only feels like a constant reminder that you truly may not be enough for them to fight for or want to fight for.

I could only guess that those thoughts were going through Crowley's mind because they were going through my mind.

"I kissed him."

My ears pricked up at his sudden words. "What?"

"I kissed him," Crowley repeated.

I knew that Crowley and Aziraphale loved each other. It was painfully obvious. I always thought that one of them finally saying something about it would have a dramatically different ending. I imagined them both hiding away in the bookshop. Not much changing... just what was normal for Aziraphale and Crowley but with a little more hand-holding. Not this.

I took a deep breath. "When?"

"After I rejected his offer to become an angel," he explained. "He had told me all about the Metatron's plan. I would have rejected it no matter what, but I had just been scolded by Nina and Maggie for not telling Aziraphale about how I felt. It just... It felt like the only chance that I had left to get him to stay."

I wondered if Crowley was telling me this because he trusted me or if it was merely because he was drunk.

"I miss him."

"I know," I muttered, hugging him a little tighter. "I miss him too."

I closed my eyes as I did that.

What else could I offer?

There was so much that I could understand. So much that I could offer him in terms of help and comfort. All I could do was hope that everything would eventually work itself out.

And at that point, that hope was getting harder and harder to hold onto.

Maybe some force in the universe would keep me from letting go of it completely. Eventually.

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

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[entitled-fangirl]

Is that a spot?

Crowley x reader

Summary: Crowley's plants have a spot, and he won't. stand. for. it.

Masterlist

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She paid no attention to the way Crowley muttered to himself under his breath.

In fact, she hardly noticed when he sauntered out of the room, too. She was too deep into her book.

She heard the quiet sound of the water spraying onto each houseplant in the next room.

"Is that a spot?" Crowley muttered at one of the plants.

Y/N sat straighter in her seat, daring to try to peak a sight at the demon.

"Is it?" His voice rose.

She stood from her seat to view the sight from the doorway. She paid attention to how the plants started to shake in freight.

"You know what I've told you all about leaf spots. I will not. Stand. For. Them." He growled.

He leaned down and picked up the poor tiny houseplant with the spot. "You know what you've done. You've disappointed me." 

Crowley sighed, "Oh dear, oh dear. Everyone!"

He swung the pot around for each plant to see, "Say goodbye to your dear friend. Just couldn't cut it!"

The woman chuckled as she leaned against the doorframe, "Crowley, have some mercy on them."

"Oh, love," He growled, "I don't do mercy."

And he walked off with the plant, "This is gonna hurt you so much more than it's gonna hurt me."

Then he turned back, "you guys… GROW. BETTER."

Then he went into the back room where there was nothing but the sound of a paper shredder.

Even the woman was surprised at his heartlessness.

He came back, his silhouette in the dark nearing.

Once he was back in the light, he held something up.

The empty pot plant.

She had never seen the plants tremble so terribly.

He pulled her close in his arms and turned to the plants, "I expect better from now on."

And he began to pull her to the other room, "C'mon, love. Don't want you to have to look at these disgraces."

For a demon, he was such a funny little thing.

..........................................................

[patronsaintofelsewhere]

Unknown / Nth

Summary

For the first time in six millennia, Crowley is completely alone. A week ago, Aziraphale had said “forgive” in the space that Crowley had hoped he’d say “love,” and Crowley hasn’t spent a moment sober since. Plagued by lovesick daydreams and laudanum-fueled nightmares, he struggles to cope with the loss of his angel.

Rating: T | 1,800 words

On AO3.

[midnights-dragon]

Nightingales Not Yet Sung

Extended scene of Soho, 1967.

(If you'd rather, the ao3 link is here!)

Nightingales Not Yet Sung

"Should I . . ." Crowley swallowed tightly, squeezing the thermos of Holy Water in his hands, which were only quivering slightly. The thermos was tartan and hideous, and it was terrifying. "Should I say thank you?"

Aziraphale did not look at him. His breath shuddered, and he forced a small smile. "Better not."

Crowley nodded with shrouded uncertainty, the motion jerky, and he opened his mouth to continue – there was an invitation on the tip of his tongue, wanting to spill out in the world and make the desires that had burned at him since the first spin of the earth on her axis known to the world, but Aziraphale spoke again before he was given the chance (and perhaps, Crowley thought with slight bitterness, that was a good thing, because nothing good ever came from asking questions).

"Crowley, dear boy, I feel that I must – that is, I must ask," Aziraphale stammered hesitantly – apparently unaware of the whole asking-questions-is-bad-schtick, Crowley thought wryly to himself, and then banished the thought, because Aziraphale looked frightened, and he did not like that, not at all.

The angel had clasped his hands together and was wringing them anxiously, his eyes – bright blue and gorgeous even in the darkness cast over Soho, the streets illuminated only by flickering street lamps – shimmering with the edges of emotion. "You . . . you mustn't – that, that is to say, I –," Aziraphale swallowed tightly and clenched his jaw, closing his eyes.

"I meant what I said," he whispered at last, his voice so very quiet. He looked small, bent over himself and rocking a little. He looked scared, and it seemed to make Crowley's heart throb in his chest. "I meant it. In 1862. I – I have not changed my mind. I only know – you are so awfully stubborn, and I – you mustn't get hurt. You – I –,"

Aziraphale stopped talking again, and his hands wrung tighter still where they were clasped in his lap. Crowley clenched his jaw to keep it from trembling, drawing the thermos closer to his chest; he watched Aziraphale's eyes fly back open at the motion, and his gaze darted to follow the path of the Holy Water.

"Angel, I know," Crowley managed eventually, keeping his voice soft. Very carefully, he gingerly placed the tartan thermos underneath his seat, trusting his Bentley to keep it safe for him; at the same time, he drew his sunglasses away, tucking them into the glove box with the rest of them and sighing quietly.

He hated making Aziraphale feel so anxious, so nervous, especially on his behalf, but he needed the Holy Water. He was only lucky that Aziraphale had given him the thermos; he honestly didn't know if he could've withstood another trip on sacred ground. But it had gone pear-shaped, before, and Crowley dreaded to remember when Hell had taken him Down there after he had saved that girl from drinking poison in the 1820s, or whenever it had been.

Hastur had had a lot of fun with him then, Crowley remembered with a sick, disgusted feeling, and he utterly hated himself for remembering. He wished he could forget. But, of course, it was the things you wanted to remember the most that slipped through your fingers, and the things that you want so desperately to disappear that stick to you like bristles.

"I worry about you, Crowley," Aziraphale said quietly, breaking the tense silence and drawing Crowley from his thoughts of darkness and pain and lessons. The angel was still wringing his hands together, hard enough that it had to hurt, and staring at his lap, his eyes welled up with tears. "I do. I really do, Crowley. Ever so much."

Crowley's breath caught. He looked away.

"Don't," he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair, digging a fang into his lower lip. "M'not worth it, angel."

"You very much are!" Aziraphale burst out with sudden anger. Real anger, and Crowley swung his head back around with surprise at the sound, but nearly recoiled at the sight of his gaze burning with such intensity that it scorched right through Crowley's feign of aloof. Aziraphale himself hesitated, as if his own intensity surprised him, and then barreled forward, thrusting out his hand and squeezing Crowley's knee, his grip trembling but firm.

"You very much are," he repeated, quieter, "and it is talk like that that makes me worry, my dear boy. Your disregard for yourself, your – your false confidence, your – I never am sure – the way you speak of yourself, the way you treat yourself sometimes, it – it's –,"

Evidently, Aziraphale could not bring himself to muster up a word that carried enough weight to describe just how he felt about Crowley's very apparent disregard for himself and his general well-being, and he settled for stamping his foot (how ridiculous, Crowley found himself thinking with something akin to fond affection seizing him in his entirety) and frowning deeply before casting a troubled, distressed look over Crowley that made the demon feel very scrutinized, panicky, and guilty.

"Angel . . . Aziraphale." Crowley took a breath, closing his eyes and groping for his sunglasses, finding them with ease and slipping them back over his face. He did not look at Aziraphale as he spoke again. "Aziraphale, m'not – ngk, I'm not bloody suicidal." The both flinched at the word. "S'just . . . Hell's, y'know, Hell. They're not exactly looking for excuses to let me off the hook, Down there. S'just like I said, angel. It's insurance; that's all." He hesitated for a moment, and then, firmer: "That's all."

(And he was a demon, and he did lie. But not to Aziraphale. Not to his angel. And besides a fleeting thought here and there, besides feelings that sometimes lingered after trips Down to Hell . . . he was, when it came down to it, telling the truth. However, it was harder to demonstrate that to Aziraphale; the angel knew him as nothing but a demon, and he as an angel, hereditary enemies. Crowley was a liar, to him, even if he never, ever lied, to him.)

Aziraphale looked at him with such intensity that Crowley thought he felt his edges began to smolder as if he were Falling all over again, though somehow, this time around, it was almost pleasant. Crowley thought that he could live his whole existence being the object of Aziraphale's scrutiny.

"Do you promise it?" The angel whispered. His voice wobbled, and Crowley, forcing himself to tear his gaze away from Aziraphale, nodded, his breath hitching, his jaw clenching.

"Mnmmyeah."

"Crowley." Fuck. He sounded like he was going to cry.

Crowley ground his teeth, and growled deep in his throat, frustrated. He wished, fleetingly, that he could confess it all to Aziraphale; what had happened after Edinburgh, the countless times Hell had brought him in and punished him accordingly (by their standards, at least), everything Crowley had had zero defenses against, had been powerless against. But that was the problem in and of itself, wasn't it? Powerlessness. Crowley would not allow himself to be powerless, not with Aziraphale. He was the angel's protector. He was his angel's protector. He was not going to allow Aziraphale to see the part of him that was hurt. That was hurting. He could not.

"Yes, yes, okay?" He hurried to hiss out, when Aziraphale repeated himself, more anxiously, more tearfully. "Fine, angel. Yeah. Yes." Crowley's face burned, and he looked away from Aziraphale, staring at the wheel of the Bentley through sunglasses that he could barely remember putting back on his face, clenching his hands into tight fists against the dash. "Promise. Okay? I promise."

"Okay," Aziraphale whispered, and he looked so small, and fuck, it hurt. "Okay." He drew his hand away from Crowley's jumping knee, his fingers trembling a little, and wrung his hands together once more in his lap, staring downwards. "I simply . . . I cannot fathom how I would – that is to say, without you, I – and with my Holy Water, it is –,"

"I know," Crowley interrupted, because Aziraphale was verging on tears once more, and he really did not want to make the angel cry. Again. He had done it way too many times throughout history, he thought, with his callousness. He remembered each time, and regretted each one. "I know, angel. And I keep my promises, yeah? M'not going anywhere. Thanks to you."

Aziraphale nodded, still looking so terrifyingly, frighteningly small. "Alright, then," he said softly, and he took a deep breath, composing himself, before giving Crowley a small, tight smile, and making for the door with shaking hands.

"Angel – Aziraphale, wait, look here," said Crowley, rather helplessly, fumbling over his words and waving his hands a little, quite erratically. "I'll – let me give you a lift, yeah? Anywhere you wanna go."

Aziraphale hesitated. Floundered. Wrung his hands together. "Not – not tonight, I'm afraid, Crowley," he responded quietly, looking away. "Only because – well – perhaps one day, we could – could go for a picnic, dine at the Ritz, but –," He glanced up at Crowley for a moment, and then away again, closing his eyes.

"You go too fast for me, Crowley."

Crowley winced, his chest clenching uncomfortably. But he nodded wordlessly, not trusting himself to speak, and Aziraphale smiled tensely once more before standing and moving from the Bentley, patting the hood of the car with fleeting fondness before he turned and walked away, back in the direction of his bookshop, the place where the had spent so many nights together – though, clearly, this night would not be one of them.

Crowley watched him go, an ache throbbing deep in his chest, in between the lines of his ribs. His knee had begun to jump again.

You go too fast for me, Crowley.

His mouth twisting into a grimace, Crowley threw his car into drive and blared down the street, daring the speedometer to stop him as he passed 90, 100, 110 – as he went faster than should be possible for his Bentley, for any automobile. His heart throbbed and ached, and he did not spare the thermos a second glance save for locking it away, because he would not break his promise to Aziraphale, and because he was, deep down, an optimist, who heralded the hope that perhaps, one day, they could go for a picnic. Dine at the Ritz.

Together. One day. Perhaps, a nightingale would even sing for them as they strolled together through Berkley Square; as they drank champagne over meaningless conversation, and got drunk on each others' company, and relished in the thrill of speeding through love.

Someday.

THE END (Feedback, comments, etc is appreciated!)

[aliahm]

Crowley x Gender Neutral Reader (Smut)

Summary: You decide to be honest with Crowley about what’s been on your mind, leading to a very memorable first time.

(I wrote this entire story, including the smut, about a gender neutral reader. Please let me know if I made any mistakes, so I can correct them and make this story as inclusive as possible).

Warnings: Unprotected sex, first time, nervous reader, crying, praise, pet names (gender neutral), oral sex (giving, not receiving)

If I left out any content warnings please let me know, so I can add them.

(Both the moodboard and the divider were made by me, using images found on Tumblr, Twitter and Google. Full credit goes to the owners of the images. The title is a lyric from the song “Once Upon a December”, from “Anastasia” <3).

“Are you alright, love?” Crowley asked, switching off the volume on the television, before turning to face you and draping his arm across the back of the couch.

“Oh, um, yeah I’m fine, I heard you.” you replied, trying your best to maintain eye contact. You had been chatting while watching a sitcom together and nothing was out of the ordinary, but you felt like a nervous wreck.

There was no question that you were safe with him. He always did his best to make sure you were comfortable and happy, but what you hoped he didn’t realize was that you became flustered around him incredibly easily (no matter how much you wished you didn’t).

“You’ve been looking everywhere except at me. Have I upset you?”

“What? No, it’s nothing to do with you, I promise.” you assured him immediately. You hadn’t ever meant to make him feel guilty.

“Then what’s the matter?”

“Well,” you began, “nothing is wrong. It’s just- it’s silly.”

“Whatever it is, you can tell me.” he said. His voice was gentle and he waited patiently as you decided how to answer him.

“I’m not upset, I just get nervous around you. Not uncomfortable at all, I love being with you, I just, I look at you and- wow this is ridiculous. I never know where to look when I look at you.” you rambled, your eyes drifting from his face to his hair, then to his clothes, the watch on his wrist, his hands, then back to his mesmerizing eyes, just as had happened just about every time he was with you.

Hie eyebrows were raised, which caused you to replay your words in your mind and you almost jumped when you heard your last sentence. “I never know where to look when I look at you”.

Your eyes widened and your body went stiff as you realized how suggestive that sounded. Still, you couldn’t help but think how true it was, as you remembered all the times you had felt your heart begin to pound and your mind begin to race as you looked at him lounging on a bench in St. James park, or deep in thought on the gorgeous, throne-like chair in his flat.

“Oh?” he responded, with a smile on his lips that could be heard in his voice as he spoke. “Is that right?”

You wondered what exactly you should say and do next. He didn’t seem uncomfortable or embarrassed at all. In fact, he looked quite pleased (with himself, with you, or both, you couldn’t tell).

He leaned back, held his hand out to you and said, “Come here, sweetheart”. When you took his hand, he guided you onto his lap.

“Hey,” he cooed, “look at me”. Your eyes met his once again and he told you: “You say you don’t know where to look, but I think you do. I’ve seen you looking at me, and it’s okay, you don’t have to be nervous around me, for any reason”.

“I know I don’t have to be, and I don’t want to be. It just happens and I don’t know why.” you explained, frustrated with yourself, but proud that you were talking about how you felt.

“Can I tell you something?” he asked, and when you nodded, he leaned close to your ear and whispered, “I know what you’ve been thinking about when you look at me, and you know what? I think about it too”.

You didn’t think you were that easy to read, but you realized then that you were probably very obvious about it, and you decided that you were definitely glad that was the case.

“Really?” you asked anyway, wanting to convince the part of your mind that wouldn’t believe what he had told you.

“Really.” he replied, pressing a kiss to your neck.

“So,” he continued, trailing his lips down to your collarbone, “How about,” he surprised you by biting down softly, “I show you,” he placed a kiss on the bite, “what those thoughts of yours,” he kissed his way back up to your ear and bit down slightly harder, causing you to whimper softly, “actually feel like?”

“Okay.” you replied, wishing your voice wouldn’t tremble. “You can show me”.

He smiled at you and kissed your lips softly. “Let’s take this to the bedroom, then, yeah?” he suggested.

You nodded, then you both stood up, as he switched the television off with a snap of his fingers. He led you down the hallway, to his bedroom, with his hand in yours the entire way there. When you walked in, he lifted your intertwined hands and pressed his lips to your knuckles, then he placed his hands on your upper arms and let them drift down to rest on your hips. He looked directly into your eyes and told you, “if at any point, you want me to stop, I want you to tell me, alright?”

“I will.” you agreed, with a small smile on your lips.

“Good”.

His fingers danced over the waistband of your jeans. “Can I take these off?”

You hesitated for a moment, reminding yourself of what was about to happen. “Yes.” you replied, nodding. He unbuttoned them with a single swift movement and helped you out of them, sliding his hands down your legs as he did, then back up.

“Now my shirt.” you said, more to yourself than him.

“I’ll only take it off if you want me to, love.” he assured you.

You thought of the feeling of his hands on your bare legs moments ago, and you decided that you wanted to feel him against your skin as much as possible. “Go ahead.” you allowed him.

He did as you asked him and in that moment you realized that he could have just snapped his fingers and removed your clothing in an instant, but instead he was taking his time, making sure you were comfortable before he took anything off of you. He was taking care of you, just as he always did.

“Ready?” he asked, and when you told him you were, he took your underwear off. He admired you as you stood before him, completely bare for the first time, and you suddenly felt the same vulnerability you had talked to him about on the couch. He noticed your unease and kissed you again, hoping to reassure you.

“Lie down for me.” he instructed softly. You got comfortable on the large bed, and he knelt over you, nudging your legs apart. His hand drifted lightly down your chest and stomach, stopping just shy of placing his hand between your legs. “Oh, look at this,” he cooed, “I’ve barely touched you and you’re already so ready for me”.

That’s when you realized just how obviously aroused you already were and you looked away from him, your face suddenly feeling very warm.

“Aww, don’t be embarrassed, sweetheart. It’s a good thing.” he said sweetly. “Keep your eyes on me, alright?”

Once you were looking at him again, one of his hands was between your legs, while he held himself above you with the other, which was beside your head.

He was gentle and attentive, carefully watching your reactions for any sign that you were uncomfortable or in pain. Once he was sure you were alright, his movements quickened slightly. The soft gasps and moans that had left your lips since he began got louder and as your body trembled, you reached up and tugged on the neckline of his shirt.

“What is it my love? You want me to take it off?”

You nodded, not fully trusting yourself to speak just yet. Immediately, he snapped his fingers and his shirt disappeared. His other hand was still at work between your legs. You held on to his shoulders and a small groan formed in his throat as your nails pressed into his skin.

“I- I think I-“ you tried desperately to tell him that you were already close, but your voice wouldn’t cooperate and your words were cut off by loud whines.

“Shh, I know, I know. It’s alright darling, cum for me.” he encouraged you, and before long, your first orgasm took hold as a sob was ripped from you. You felt yourself dripping onto his hand and the bedsheets.

“That’s it, sweetheart, there you go.” he murmured, leaning down to kiss your forehead, then your cheek, then your jaw, running his other hand up and down your shoulder to help calm you down. When you were still, he lifted his hand to his mouth and sucked his fingers clean. Your eyes widened at the sight and you gasped, making him laugh softly.

“You want to stop now?” he asked. Despite his own arousal, he would have stopped there without hesitation if that was what you wanted. He had always been patient with you, and he would never do anything to make you uncomfortable.

“Not yet.” you replied, and you tentatively reached down to rest your hand on his waist. That’s when you realized that you could see, even with his trousers on. that he was hard. Your fingers shook slightly as you slowly moved your hand to his belt. “Can we, well can you-“ you began. You were nowhere near as nervous as you had been when you first entered his bedroom, but you just couldn’t seem to find the words for what you wanted to ask him.

Thankfully he understood, and he gave you a kiss before saying, “Anything you want, love”. Your hand was still on his belt and he followed your gaze down to his clothed hardness. “You wanna take the rest off for me?” he asked you. You looked at him in surprise, then you nodded, and he guided your hand to rest on his belt buckle.

You did your best to unbuckle his belt as smoothly as he had unbuttoned your jeans earlier, and thankfully you didn’t fumble. You unbuttoned his trousers after that and you immediately felt your eyes widen at the sight of him straining against the fabric of his boxers. He cooed softly at you and said, “it’s alright, you can touch me if you want to”.

You hesitated, not sure exactly what to do, so he took hold of your wrist and slowly placed your hand onto his length. When you moved your hand, you heard his breath hitch and you pulled back immediately. “Oh, sweetheart, no. You didn’t hurt me, alright? Don’t worry.” he quickly reassured you. “Go on”.

“Okay” you agreed, your voice stronger than before. You hooked your fingers underneath the waist of his trousers and began pulling them down. Soon you realized that you wouldn’t be able to get them all the way off while he was kneeling over you. “I didn’t think this through did I?” you sighed.

He smiled, leaned down and pecked your lips, nudging his nose against yours playfully. With another snap of his fingers, the remainder of his clothes were gone. You had never seen him while he wasn’t wearing his usual outfit, and as your eyes travelled down his body, you wondered how many people had ever had the opportunity to see him as you saw in that moment. He was the embodiment of the paintings and sculptures of gods and heroes admired within the walls of museums and so much more.

A quiet sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a sigh left your lips as you reminded yourself that this demon, this loving, caring, gorgeous demon, was here with you. He was guiding you through this experience, because he loved you.

“I’m so lucky.” you murmured, with an amazed smile on your face.

“Darling, trust me, I’m the lucky one.” he insisted, his expression mirroring your own.

He helped guide you into the right position, and when you were comfortable, he told you, “Try to relax. If it hurts or you want to stop, tell me, and we’ll stop, alright?”

You nodded and he entered you slowly, little by little, trying not to overwhelm or hurt you. You hadn’t even realized that you were biting your lip, trying to keep yourself quiet. You weren’t in pain, but the unfamiliar feeling of him inside you seemed to be too much and soon you cried out for him, desperate for him to tell you that you would be alright.

“I’m here, my love, I’m right here. Just breathe.” he whispered, repeatedly pressing kisses to your shoulder and neck. “I won’t move until you’re ready”.

“Could you-“ you hesitated, “could you hold my hand?” you asked, your own voice sounding far away. Immediately, he placed his hand in yours, which had been tightly gripping the bedsheets, laced your fingers together, and kissed the back of it. You breathed deeply and then told him, “You can move”.

He began gently rocking his hips, and soon he was moving at a slow, steady pace. You weren’t trying to be quiet anymore, and you were sure that you couldn’t even if you wanted to. You were moaning and panting uncontrollably and you wondered if you were being too loud, but it didn’t seem to matter to him. He leaned close to your ear so you could hear his quiet groans as he moved.

You couldn’t tell how long it had been, but at some point the pleasure building inside of you felt so strong that you weren’t sure how much more you could handle. That’s when you felt yourself begin to cry, and you looked at him with pleading eyes, hoping that he would help you through it.

“Poor thing.” he muttered, more to himself than you, as your grip on his hand tightened and your strained whimpers filled the room. He hated when you were in pain or upset in any way, yet still, the fact that you wanted him to comfort you, to make you feel better as you laid in his bed, crying and vulnerable, he couldn’t deny, he loved it.

“Shh, shh” he soothed you, his lips brushing against your ear. “It’s okay to cry, love. It’s just you and me, yeah? I know it’s all new to you right now, but you don’t have to be afraid. You’re alright, I promise”.

He held you close as he trailed his lips down your neck, then he pulled back and held your chin, turning your head so you were looking at him once again. You calmed down a bit as you tried to focus on him and remind yourself that, as overwhelming as this all was, you were alright. He was here to take care of you.

“Is it too much? Do you want to stop?” he asked, as tears continued to drip down your face.

“No, no, I-“ you tried to explain to him that you weren’t crying because of pain. “I’m okay. It’s just- it’s all so much”.

“I know darling,” he cooed, squeezing your hand comfortingly. “You’re doing so well, I’m so proud of you”. He continued the steady rocking of his hips and soon you were fighting to keep yourself from screaming. You felt your entire body tense, before your second orgasm took over. Your closed your eyes and you could feel your heart pounding wildly as fire seemed to travel all throughout your body, from your stomach all the way to your fingertips.

Crowley kept you close to him, wanting to make sure you were alright. “I’ve got you sweetheart, I’ve got you, cum for me. That’s it, just like you did before.” he coaxed you. Soon you went limp in his arms and as you tried to even out your breathing, he leaned down and kissed your jaw and neck over and over until you had calmed down once again.

He waited until you were comfortable before he pulled out of you slowly, then he brushed away the tear tracks on your face with his thumb and kissed you where they had been. After that, he began to carefully clean you up with a damp cloth you hadn’t seen him pick up. He gently ran his hands over your body as he did, trying to help you relax.

It wasn’t long before you realized that he was still hard. Apparently you hadn’t lasted as long as you felt like you had. “Wait, you didn’t-“ you began, “I didn’t realize-“

“Hey,” he placed his hand on the side of your face. “You don’t need to worry about me, alright?”

“No,” you replied, “It’s okay. I want to help, I’m just not sure how”.

A small smile lifted the corners of his lips. “Such a sweet little thing.” he cooed, his thumb stroking your jaw. “Are you sure about this?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” you told him. “but I think I’ll need you to tell me what to do”.

“Don’t worry about a thing, love. I’ll do all the work”.

He stood up, took your hand, and walked to the edge of the bed, then he sat down and began his instructions.

“On your knees”.

As you knelt in front of him, you noticed that there was now a pillow beneath you on the floor of the bedroom. “Deep breaths, alright?” he reminded you, as he laced your fingers together once again and brought your joined hands to rest on his thigh. “Squeeze my hand if you want me to stop”.

He ran his thumb over your lower lip softly, then he said, “Alright, open your mouth for me”. You did as he said, as his hand cupped your jaw, then you began to slowly take him into your mouth, though he knew you couldn’t take much of him just yet.

When he was just barely in your mouth, he placed his hand on the back of your head and told you “You don’t have to do anything, just relax and I’ll take care of the rest”.

He waited for a moment, then he began guiding your movements, making sure he didn’t push you too far. You couldn’t help but wonder, with how focused he had been on you, if he was actually enjoying himself. You hesitantly tried giving a few small, slow licks and you saw his eyes widen, as a quiet gasp left his lips. You thought you might be embarrassing yourself with your attempts, but he quickly put an end to that by encouraging you.

“Can you do that again for me, sweetheart? That’s right, keep going”.

His words seemed to give you more confidence, and they made you even more eager to please. You quickened your pace, with him guiding himself in and out of your mouth all the while. Soon his eyes were closed and his head was tilted back slightly. His quiet moans were the most gorgeous sound, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t proud that you were the one coaxing them from him.

When you saw him biting his lip just as you had earlier, you knew that he was close. You heard him stifle what sounded like a sort of growl and you could tell he was trying to hold himself back. You continued your movements and before long, his release finally took over.

He groaned and his grip on you tightened just a bit as you tasted him on your tongue. You tried your best to swallow as much as you could, but when he pulled out of your mouth, some of his seed dripped down your face. He ran his hand through his hair as he breathed heavily for a moment, his eyes still closed; then, with a snap of his fingers he had cleaned himself off, and he wasted no time in pulling you up, into his lap once again. He used the back of his hand to wipe off your chin, then he leaned in and kissed your temple.

“Thank you” you said quietly, “for taking care of me”.

“You don’t have to thank me, darling. I should be the one thanking you for trusting me”.

“I knew I would be fine.” you told him, studying the snake tattoo on the side of his face. “You make me feel safe”.

“How are you feeling now?” he asked. You were messing with his hair as you answered him, thinking that it still somehow looked unexpectedly neat. “I feel good. I know it’s silly to ask, because I really didn’t do much, but, did I do okay? Was it good for you too?”

“Would you give yourself a break for once love? You were perfect.” he insisted, and as you looked at him, with his now disheveled hair, adoration shining in his beautiful golden eyes and a gentle smile gracing his lips, there seemed to be no words that could express how much love and admiration you felt in that moment.

You slowly pressed your lips to the side of his face, against the tattoo that you always found yourself fascinated by, then he turned his head and captured your lips with his own, tugging on your lower lip slightly to coax your mouth open, and slipped his forked tongue into your mouth, kissing you deeply. His hand rested on the side of your neck, with his fingers just barely wrapped around the back of it.

When you pulled away from each other, one final snap of his fingers had you both laying on the bed, under the soft sheets, him with his hands resting behind his head, and you with your head nestled in the crook of his neck, where you repeatedly left kisses across his skin.

You felt so safe laying in bed with him, so loved. You reminded yourself that life would resume soon enough, but that didn’t matter right then. What mattered was that you were with Crowley, and he was with you, and you could both relax together, without a care in the world. On top of that, you knew that when you did return to the world outside of his bedroom, you would still have each other.

You were eternally grateful for that, and you hoped he could tell, as he wrapped his arms around you, closed his eyes and whispered, “Rest, darling”

[winchesterszvonecek]

Crowley and reader waking up next to each other for the first time, please? ♡

Good Morning - [ Crowley ]

Summary: You and Crowley wake up together for the first time

Word Count: 916

Warnings: female!reader, fluff

Masterlist | Crowley Masterlist

You never thought you’d find yourself waking up in the arms of a demon, let alone the King of Hell himself.

Firstly, because demons didn’t sleep. Which is why you were more surprised over the fact that Crowley was currently still asleep than you were over yourself waking up next to him.

Secondly, you were a hunter. You were trained to hunt demons. To kill them. Not to trust them, let alone allow yourself to be so vulnerable around them. And if there was ever a moment where you were at your most vulnerable it was when you were asleep.

Yet here you were, not only asleep around a demon but asleep next to one. Asleep in the arms of one. Your legs tangled together with one in ways you didn’t even know was possible and yet it was comfortable. He was comfortable. His body. His touch. His mere presence was comfortable which is exactly why you had fallen asleep beside him.

Had you not grown so comfortable around Crowley over the past few months you’d have never dreamed of allowing yourself to sleep around him, let alone next to him. But you had, therefore you did. And when you woke that morning, his face being the first thing you saw when your eyes fluttered open, you didn’t feel anything but happiness and a sense of peace.

The minute Crowley began to stir next to you, you shut your eyes, pretending to still be asleep as you did not need him acting all smug when he realised you’d been gazing at him whilst he slept. You could feel his breath against your forehead, no doubt glancing down at you to see if you were awake yet.

After a few seconds you allowed your eyes to open again, acting as though it was the first time they had. You lifted you hand, rubbing lightly at them and forcing a yawn to escape your mouth, gently nuzzling your cheek over his chest where his heartbeat quickened beneath.

“Good morning.” You mumbled, kissing his chest before you lifted your head to meet his gaze, which softened the second it locked onto yours.

“Good morning, darling.” Crowley said as softly as he could given the raspiness to his voice brought on by hours of not talking.

Which must have been a challenge as he did love the sound of his own voice. Not that you were complaining though as you did too. His earlier morning one especially.

He leaned down, capturing your lips in his and kissing you in a way that had you melt beneath him. You could feel that immense warmth burst across your chest, your stomach feeling as though someone had forced a swarm of butterflies down into it as his lips continued to work against yours, clearly not bothered by the morning breath you could have sworn you had.

“Good morning indeed.” Crowley whispered as he pulled briefly back, bringing one hand up to land aside your face, fingers threading through your hair as he brought you towards him again.

Your own hand rose, coming to rest atop his as you allowed him to keep kissing you, which had soon become your new favourite hobby as you just couldn’t get enough of it. Especially when his stubble would scratch over your skin in all the best ways. Just reminding you it was real and not a rather vivid dream as you still couldn’t quite believe it.

“Since when do demons sleep?” You asked curiously the second your lips parted, Crowley’s thumb brushing lightly over yours as his hand came to cradle the side of your neck.

“Since a breathtakingly beautiful woman tired him out last night to the point where he couldn’t help but feel like he needed it.” Crowley replied, causing you to blush profusely as all the memories of said night swarmed your sleep-hazy mind.

If you hadn’t been damned just for kissing him then you’d definitely have been after the things you let him do to you.

“My apologies.” You said playfully, a somewhat smug seeming smile flashing across your face as you leaned up, placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

“No need to apologise, love.” He whispered, his thumb tracing light circles against the warmth of your neck. “Not when it allowed me the pleasure of waking up next to you.”

“Quite the sweet talker, aren’t you?” You teased, lifting your hand to slide it around the back of his neck, feeling the softness of his hair as your fingers delved into it.

“Only for truly special people.” Crowley replied, making you blush even more as who knew he had such a soft side to him.

“If I’m so special…” You began, pecking his lips briefly before pulling back just a little. “And you enjoy waking up next to me so much…” Another quick peck against his lips. “Does that mean we’ll get to do this more often?”

Using his hold on your neck to stop you from backing away, Crowley kissed you again. In a way so passionate yet so gentle. So loving. That you almost couldn’t think straight and your eyes needed a second longer than normal to open afterwards, just in time to catch the movement of his lips as he said the words you secretly longed to hear.

“Darling, you best believe we’ll be doing this again, because there isn’t anything on this earth, or in Hell, that I’d rather do than wake up next to you.”

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