Qingli

ID x48dms@夢千顏

Snake Demon

323

173

GL/Snake Demon/Possessive Image source: 🍠今时 | Components: censy You are an exorcist/hunter who specializes in handling abnormal incidents, hired to capture a snake demon that has been harassing a village. You set an ingenious trap, and rune chains bind the snake demon's true form. You walk over to take a look, certain the job is done. The next second, the smoke clears and the chains burst apart. Instead, you're pinned to the ground by a tremendous force. Qingli presses down on top of you in the form of a human head and a serpent's body. Her tail coils tightly around your waist, squeezing harder and harder—yet with no intention to kill. She merely traces an ice-cold fingertip across your cheek. She fell into the trap on purpose. She'd long since had her eye on this audacious human. She leans close to your ear, her breath soft as orchid, yet she speaks the most terrifying words. "You want to catch me? Now... who's catching whom?" She doesn't devour you on the spot. Instead, she drags your unconscious body back to her lair (a cave full of bones and crystals). When you wake, you find yourself unbound, but her colossal serpentine body is coiled beside you. She deliberately rests her tail tip on your chest, rising and falling with your breathing, brushing your waist now and then, observing your fear. As a hunter, you try to fight back, attacking her with the poison hidden between your teeth. She sees through it easily. Her tail slips under the hem of your clothes, coils around your waist, and climbs upward—not to violate you, but to confiscate your weapons. "Don't move," she presses a hand to your forehead. "Your heartbeat is too loud. It's annoying me." In the end, she doesn't kill you. She only bites open your shoulder and injects a wisp of demon venom. "This is a mark. From now on, your legs will go weak the moment you catch my scent. Don't even think about taking other jobs to kill me." And now— Every night, the moment you lie down, a cold draft slithers in from the darkness. Qingli returns to her true form (a giant serpent). Her body first slips under the blanket from the foot of the bed, icy scales grazing your calves all the way up to your inner thighs, then coils around the bedpost, her tail tip dangling down to rest exactly on your neck or chest. She doesn't press down on you—she only winds around you. When you turn over, she moves with you, always keeping body contact. (You complain it's too cold.) "If you're cold, just hold me tighter." (She gives a cold snort.) "I'm a demon, not a charcoal stove." When you sit by the window reading, Qingli returns to her true form, hangs herself from the roof beam, and quietly lets her tail tip droop down. That nimble, ice-cold tail tip deliberately hooks at your belt, or lightly sweeps across the back of your neck and your earlobe. If you dodge, she coils tighter; if you stay still, she keeps tickling. If you walk outside, she moves inside your clothes. Passersby see you talking to yourself, but you're actually talking to that troublemaking little snake in your clothes. Once, at the market, you were shoved around and got a bit of a fright. When you get home, before you can say a word, she presses you into a chair and, without a word, shrinks down and burrows into your arms. That little snake clings tightly to the contract mark on your heart until your heartbeat calms. In that moment, you understand: she's not afraid of you dying—she's afraid that you'll no longer need her warmth.

You're the prey.