Deathspoems - When Death Became Dawn - Tumblr Blog

It the phrase goes like

iTs AdAm AnD eVe, NoT aDaM aNd StEvE

then what's the lesbian version of that?

Is it like Amanda and Eve?

Happy Shuhite Sunday

TIL that it matters what you feed the cow just as much as what you feed yourself

Why are agriculture classes the first time I've learned extremely basic info about nutrition and how digestion works. Why isn't this stuff in health textbooks or any easily accessible resource about healthy eating.

Dead eating is my contribution

Made a quick fanart based on this lovely Good Omens fanfic called The Shared Desk Dilemma by @southernfriedamy . I can’t wait for the next chapters! Their bickering in this fic is so precious ❤️

The fanart was based on the following scene:

“Aziraphale was still peering over his shoulder, so when Crowley turned to share the clue, they were practically nose-to-nose.

Aziraphale's retreat was blocked by the open door of the painting, so they stayed like that for a moment. In the seconds before Crowley thought to take a step back, he noticed Aziraphale's gaze shift from his eyes to his lips, very briefly, just a blink.

But Crowley saw it, and Aziraphale knew he saw it, as evidenced by the return of that bright pink flush across his cheeks.”

You can find the fic here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53068954/chapters/134268547?view_adult=true

Mark Doty, "The Death of Antinoüs"

Love seeing this old gem in my board glad to know it survived all these years

If I could draw I'd draw this little guy 😥😖

The end of the world is bright

I remember waking up....I remember the morning dove sing to me. I wish I had known then.

I was walking in the city. Ordinary people doing ordinary things, living ordinary lives. Some were sad, others frustrated. Me? I was in the sky seeing everything happen.

I don't remember the taste of food or the pleasure of a good conversation, but I remember the warmth of the sun and the feel of the grass.

I remember the birds fall and fire start. I didn't know it then, but I don't think I would've wanted to anyway. Some people need to be at the brink of death for them to finally live. Others may just go through a period of self destruction or maybe do nothing at all. It doesn't matter what you do nothing would've changed reality.

It was my second day waking up. Most of the world was silent for the majority of the day. People didn't want to risk getting hurt with all the commotion going on, I can't say I blame them.

My family gathered around and said our hellos. There was a known quiet around the room. Everyone knew but no one wanted to speak or acknowledge it in any way, shape or form. Some of us were saying things we would miss and where we'd hope we'd end up next. Some said in a planet made of gold others said a sci-fi planet, but I said "Somewhere beautiful, like Saturn"

In our last hours, I recollected my experience as a being. It was painful....hard...fun...scary....breathtaking. It was confusing...loving...made no sense....and made complete sense. It was an experience unlike any other. One that would never be experienced, recreated or done again.

I went to bed despite the daylight still there, I got in the covers and closed my eyes. I don't remember screaming, crying, pain, or agony. In fact, I don't really remember much about anything anymore, but I do remember the bright light that engulfed my every sense till I was part of the cosmos.

I don't know if my family made it here with me or if I'll be able to see them again. Hell I don't even know how I made it here!

All I know is that the end of the world was bright.

I constantly tell my sister things even if she doesn't want to hear them just because I'm really invested in the topic. I'll start trying this from now on

please don’t ruin your excitement by discussing your favourite ideas and things with people, your enthusiasm and your happiness of discussing that thing doesn’t belong with someone who is not willing to listen to you, know that the things you say matter and even if you are a good listener, know that you need a good listener too.

keep it to yourself, let it make you happy than actually discussing it with someone who’s energy will discourage you to the point where you don’t wish to ever talk about it ever again. let the things that light you up from within stay with you, unless someone also wants to feel the warmth of that light within you.

I'm going to go off on a little rant. I don't claim to know what I'm talking about and what I'm about to say is purely out of my own experience with the topic at hand. I do encourage people who read this to add anything, whether that be an opposing point or simply an add on to my topic. Remember be nice.

Now, I don't know about you guys, but growing up I don't remember having a lot of autonomy. Even when I was 15 did I not have enough autonomy, at least in the way that I wanted it to be. It wasn't till I was 19 and taking myself to school and work that I realized that I DID IN FACT have autonomy.

I'm not going to lie it felt freeing to know that I could go wherever I wanted, that I could do whatever I wanted, it was freeing to buy something younger me thought would be questionable for me to have and simply purchase it.

Then I started to question why I had felt that way for so long. Autonomy by definition means independence and freedom, as of the will or one's own action. By definition all my life I knew I was free, but I always felt like I wasn't. But now I know why it's because I was never really given a choice in the matter.

I'm not saying I had helicopter parents or that I was in bad situation where I was extremely limited with decisions because I wasn't. No what made me feel like I had no autonomy was that I always had be to looked after and I don't mean where safety was a huge concern or anything like that.

Let me give an example, you tell your parents that you'll be going out with a few friends to the park, they say okay but they your sibling to watch you. You respond with but I'm only going to the park next door??? They tell you I don't care there's dangerous people everywhere take your sibling.

See? And what's worse is that your sibling didn't even want to go so is just begrudgingly following you and your friends from a distance and ruining the overall mood.

This is what I mean. And I'm sorry if I sound like a little kid complaining about simply being taken care off, but I'm not complaining about my parents giving a shit about me. It just kinda made me wonder why I didn't feel like autonomy that's it.

Now back to the topic, when I was growing up my mom would take me everywhere which is fine, but on my way back home from work I saw 4 - 8 gradeders taking the public bus home. (We live in America school busses are a thing) I for so long thought that shit was illegal not for the kid but for the parent.

As far as I'm concerned only advanced countries like Central Europe, and eastern Asia could have that luxury. You hardly see kids much less under the age of 10 taking the bus to go home.

And it made me realize that we do have a choice even as kids, but we aren't really allowed to do any of it because to our parents it's better to be driven than go on a bus.

Let's go back in time a bit to the 1960s America, this is a time in the world where people want peace, weed was the new tobacco, and the Beatles were the hottest thing. Kids of all ages were encouraged to explore their surroundings. Stranger danger wasn't yet a concept but instead it was up to the parents to protect and educate their child. Sadly it was also an age in time where serial killers and child predators ran loose 1.5 million children went missing from just those 2 decades.

All this to say that those 2 eras would be last and final time (at least in America) where the kids would ever go out on their own. While it benefited us in the long run, it has slowly taken from us our autonomy as growing individuals. Because having autonomy means having a right to choose where you go and what you do. And you might be thinking well why not just go outside in your neighborhood or ask your mom if you can go to a friend's house and hangout? Let me tell you, I grew up in the ghetto the neighborhood was quiet but never safe and if I wanted to go to my friends house her mom would have be there and in a low-income neighborhood no one can afford being a stay at home mom.

I could not go anywhere without being watched or do a lot of the things I wanted to because we were poor and hobbies take investments.

And so I grew up thinking I couldn't do what I wanted because of where I was or who my friends parents thought I was or simply because were poor. It was so bad that when I finally did start earning money I didn't spend any of it at first at least not on me. I'm still trying to get used to the fact that I CAN IN FACT do whatever the hell I want and that it isn't impossible to have a cheap hobby.

Thank you for reading my very long and quite frankly stupid rant up this far and do remember that YOU CAN IN FACT DO THAT WEIRD THING YOU WANTED TO DO FOR SO LONG no will stop you trust me. I've learned that the hard way.

“If you have a garden and a library, you have everything you need.”

— Cicero, Ad Familiares

𝐻𝑜𝑤 𝑡𝑜 𝑖𝑛𝑣𝑜𝑘𝑒.𝑆𝑡. 𝐸𝑥𝑝𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑡𝑒 (𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑀𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑡𝑒 𝑆𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑡)

𝑆𝑡. 𝐸𝑥𝑝𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑛 𝐴𝑟𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑖𝑎𝑛 𝑀𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑦𝑟 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟 303. 𝑂𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑦 ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝐶ℎ𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑡𝑦. 𝑠𝑎𝑡𝑎𝑛 𝑐𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑎𝑠 𝑎 𝑟𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝑜𝑙𝑑 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑡𝑜 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡 𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑙 𝑡𝑜𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑜𝑤. 𝐸𝑥𝑝𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑓𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑒𝑑 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐵𝑖𝑟𝑑. 𝑇ℎ𝑢𝑠 𝑘𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑡. 𝐻𝑒𝑠 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑀𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑡𝑒 𝑆𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝑊𝑖𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑠 𝑒𝑥𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑙𝑦 𝑓𝑎𝑠𝑡.

𝐻𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑠 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒:

𝑃𝑢𝑡 𝑎 𝑃𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑜𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑇𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒 & 𝑝𝑢𝑡 𝑎 𝐺𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑛𝑒𝑥𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑖𝑡. 𝑆𝑎𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑃𝑟𝑎𝑦𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑊𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑑𝑎𝑦.

✩

how do i tell her that if i don’t kiss her for one more day i will go insane.

The Final Gift

Someday I shall perish

It could painful or it could be bliss

When I part the skies will cry

And the flowers will bloom

The Earth will accept me and I shall be her again

She who gives and gives and us who use her gifts

People will weep and so shall I

Not because I left but because I'll be her eternally

What more beautiful gift could she give you if not to be her forever.

Feeling her love to the world and her gentle hand for the old

Someday will come and I'll accept it

But till then I'll bask in her beauty and fruit

Till I one day return back home to her

A concept in my head that been rolling around a lot:

Hanahaki, but instead of it being triggered by unrequited love, it's triggered because all the love you have for a person turns inwards because you're too afraid to show it.

So it kills you, not because someone doesn't love you back, but because you don't let it out and all that love you have stored, that could grow into something beautiful, turns on you and turns your insides beautiful.

Love is growth, and without any place for it to grow outside, it grows in. If you confess, reciprocated or not, the disease goes away because it's no longer trapped. It gives self-destruction a new meaning.

Don't ruin the sofa

6.5k | 18+ MDNI | fwb!Joel Miller x f!reader | pt. 3

Warnings: no outbreak au, implied age gap, mild hurt/comfort, mention of blood, phone sex, talk of anal play, one (1) face slap, rough sex, pain kink, unprotected piv, creampie, breeding kink, degradation/praise, fluffy aftercare, pet names, dom!Joel Summary: After a phone call brings up repressed emotions, you decide to buy a new sofa. Joel assembles it for you, then fucks you on it.  A/N: You're trying to reach reader? Sorry, she's moved on. (+ is fucking the hottest guy around). Read the previous parts here: pt. 1 | pt. 2 | masterlist | AO3 (each part can be read alone). Thank you all for your love on this series. Your kind words mean the world to me. 🤍

“How is this my fucking life,” you whisper to yourself and let your phone fall onto the wooden coffee table with a thud. You get up with a groan and drag yourself to the fridge where you know an opened bottle of white wine is waiting for you, then pour yourself a healthy amount, eye the glass, pour some more and shuffle back to the sofa. 

As soon as you plop back down, your phone lights up and vibrates for the third time since you came home from work. The loud and resonant buzz, amplified and carried by the hard surface of the table, is aggravating to say the least. You take a big sip of your wine and let out an exasperated sigh when the caller won’t let up. That’s it, you’ve had enough. In a split second you swipe up to take the call and put the phone to your ear. 

You don’t say anything. He’s the one who’s been texting and calling you every night for the past week, so you’re certainly not going to say something first. Instead, you wait and swirl your wine.

“Finally,” you hear him breathe with relief. “I thought you’d never pick up.” 

Then why do you keep calling, you stupid idiot. You roll your eyes in annoyance and put your naked feet on the coffee table. The wine is successfully taking the edge off, but you're still this close to telling him off for good. Perhaps you should; he deserves it. 

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot, babe,” he purrs into your ear, his sickeningly sweet voice sending a shiver down your spine. “About you, about us; about everything, really. About what could’ve been if things didn’t end like they di-”

“What do you want, Simon?” You interrupt him, your patience for his theatrics already wearing thin. 

“Oh, babe,” he breathes, “It’s so good to hear your vo-”

“What do you want?” You ask again, emphasizing every word.

“I want to apologize,” he answers with a deep sigh, then clears his throat. “I- I’m sorry about what happened and how we ended things, I really am.”

You snort and pluck a stray piece of lint from your tank top. Is he for real right now?

“Cool story, Simon,” you deadpan as you get up to go grab the wine bottle from the fridge. “That it?” 

“I was hoping we could talk about things, maybe meet up? I’d love to see you.” 

You slam the fridge door shut and take the bottle back to the sofa. “There’s nothing to talk about,” you mutter and pour yourself another glass. 

“Of course there is,” Simon protests, the agitated tone of his voice betraying the calm and collected facade he tried to put up. “I really think we should talk about what happened. I can’t just forget about it, you know.” Oh yeah, this is the real Simon. Always trying to manipulate the people around him. Sucks for him that you’ve figured it out. 

“Sounds like a you problem,” you mumble and bring the cold rim of the glass back to your lips. 

“Oh, come on now. Why are you acting like this?” He groans, his annoyance palpable. When he realizes you’re not going to answer him and that he maybe should be more diplomatic, he relents. “I just think we should talk about it, that’s all.”

“You wanna talk about it, huh?” You laugh dryly. “About how you were fucking Laura while I was bleeding. Or how you were fucking her when I was in surgery. Or how you were fucking her when I desperately tried to reach you. You wanna talk about all of that.” 

“Hey, that’s not fair,” Simon counters. “We weren’t together at that point and-,” he trails off and sighs deeply. “I was scared, okay?”

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. “We’ve had this exact conversation three years ago, Simon. There’s nothing left to say. I’m over it.”

“How can you say that?” he asks incredulously.

“You never once called me after I moved out to ask how I was. Not once,” you sigh, this conversation slowly tugging at the stitches of wounds you thought were long closed.

“You told me you didn’t wanna hear from me,” Simon huffs. “And I was- fuck. I’m just sorry, okay? I know i fucked up.”

You both don’t say anything for a few seconds, his breathing in your ear the only thing you can hear. 

“Can we meet, babe? Please? I think it would be good for both of us.” 

You chug the remaining wine and take a deep breath.

“Leave me the fuck alone, Simon. I got nothing to say to you.” 

And with that you hang up and throw your phone across the sofa. You take a deep breath, put your feet on the ground and your palms on your thighs. You close your eyes and say out loud, “calm, safe, breathe.” You repeat the mantra before adding, “It’s over, I’m here, I’m safe. Nothing can hurt me, nothing can hurt me.” 

When you open your eyes again and observe the familiar surroundings of your apartment, a soothing feeling of  comfort washes over you. There’s the purple vase you bought at a flea market in the first week after moving in, there are your beloved succulents that look as healthy as ever, there’s the painting you got from your talented colleague for your last birthday. And there’s the polaroid Tommy took of you and Joel at the party where he introduced you two.

You quickly wipe away your tears and turn on your TV. Another glass of wine, your favorite show and you’ll be able to sleep in no time, you tell yourself. You get up to get a new bottle from the fridge and decide to take the leftover banana bread you made with you as well. It’s time for all the comfort you can get. 

With your hands full, you shuffle back to the sofa and, due to the dim light and the fact that you just downed an almost full bottle of wine on an empty stomach, you completely miss the fact that you’re directly walking into one of the coffee table legs. You stub your toes hard, trip and fall to the floor. You can only watch in slow motion as the plate flies through the air and shatters on your hardwood floor, the banana bread just rolling away sadly. The wine glass is even more spectacular, as its contents spill all over your sofa and the glass explodes into a thousand shards. 

“Fuck my life,” you groan and get on your knees to pick up the big pieces with your hands before sweeping up the smaller ones with a dustpan and brush later. 

“Shit,” you hiss and clutch your wrist. 

Of course you cut yourself on one of the shards, blood immediately trickling down onto the carpet. The cut on your palm is not deep, but it stings. And the blood is already seeping into the fabric - great. You let out an exasperated sigh and get up. 

You can’t be bothered to take care of all this right now, so you slap a too small bandaid over the cut, brush your teeth, take your melatonin with a glass of water and go to bed. 

— 

What sociopath calls this early? And on your day off no less. You groan at the sharp and grating sound emitted by your phone on the nightstand, but pick up when you see who it is. 

“Yeah?” Your voice is little more than a hoarse whisper, laced with a sleepy rasp. 

“Aww, did I wake the princess?” Joel asks in mock concern. You can hear the smirk on his stupid handsome face through the phone. 

“No, no,” you murmur and rub your bleary eyes. “I’ve already run ten miles, deep-cleaned my whole apartment and rescued a cat from a tree. What have you done, hm?” 

“Touché. Very impressive, darlin’,” he chuckles, your wit never failing to amuse him. “And no, I haven’t rescued any cats so far today. I’m just at work. Besides,” he continues before his voice takes on a sultry tone, “the only pussy I’m interested in is yours anyway.”

You involuntarily suck in a breath and feel yourself clench around nothing. You’re still half asleep and have no clue what planet you’re on, but Joel’s still managed to get you all hot and bothered within ten seconds of your conversation; and with a shitty pun at that.

You might have a mild problem. 

“Hmm, you like that, don’t you?” He groans softly as the rhythmic fapping sound reaches your ear.

“Are you jerking off right now?” You ask, less shocked and definitely more turned on than you should be. 

“Yeah,” he purrs. “You wanna help me, baby?” 

“Hang on,” you say, trying to process the situation. “You’re at work and you just what, decided to call me at - you look at the time on your display - 7:13 in the morning, so I could get you off?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” Joel murmurs into your ear.  

You can’t help but chuckle at his audacity and complete lack of shame. You love it. 

“Alright,” you coo, “but first you gotta tell me what’s got you all riled up.” You put him on speaker and slide your hand between your legs. 

“My secretary’s wearing a tight dress today,” he murmurs, then spits into his hand to wet his shaft.  

“Oh yeah?” You whisper, “She turn you down and now poor you has to make do with me?” You run your fingers through your folds and bite your lip as you spread the slick from your core to your clit. 

“You know me better than that, darlin’,” Joel says softly. “I was scrolling through the photos I took of the construction site yesterday and then the pic you sent me caught my eye. Couldn’t concentrate on anything else afterwards.” 

A triumphant smile spreads across your face as you think of Joel losing his composure because of you. It is a hot photo to be fair. After your phone call with Simon on Sunday night, you ordered a new sofa, carpet and some fun items of the adult variety to feel better. While trying out one of them, you felt compelled to let Joel have a piece of your fun and sent him a pic of you with your best assets on display. 

“You like that one, huh,” you tease, your fingers slowly circling your sensitive bundle of nerves. “I was thinking about you when I took it, you know.”

“Fuck yeah,” Joel murmurs, his breathing heavy. “Look fucking gorgeous with your ass stuffed and your tits out.” 

“Mmm, it’s a new ribbed dildo I got. Felt amazing in my tight little hole,” you purr and hear Joel groan softly at the image. “I used a vibrator on my clit while I fucked my ass, but my pussy felt far too empty. It was dripping so much I had to change the sheets after.”

“That’s my dirty girl. You want two cocks to stuff your greedy holes, baby?” He moans, clearly aroused by the idea of seeing you fall apart while being filled to the brim. You dip your fingers into your wet cunt and use your slick to rub your clit harder.

“Yes, Sir,” you breathe, causing Joel’s painfully hard cock to twitch, “want you to tie me to the bed so my pussy’s wide open for you. I want you to choose a toy that’s too big and push it inside my dripping hole to stretch it until it’s a ruined mess. When you’re satisfied and take the toy out of my ruined hole, I’d beg you to finally fuck my cunt with your cock, but you’d fuck my ass instead and just leave my used pussy clench around nothing.”

You moan breathlessly as you can feel the muscles in your abdomen tighten and pleasure building rapidly. Hearing Joel lose his mind on the other end of the line is setting all of your nerves on fire and you desperately wish he was here to fuck you like you deserve. 

“Fuck, you’re such a perfect little whore,” Joel groans, fisting his cock faster. “I’d film the whole thing, so I could show you how pathetic you look begging for my cock and dripping with my cum. I’d fill you up over and over again until you’re a crying mess begging me to stop.” His moans are getting louder and you can’t help but wonder how thick the walls of his office must be.  

You can’t wait for him to get his hands on you and do with you as he pleases. “I’ll take whatever you decide to give me, Sir.”

“Gonna take my cum in all your holes, angel?”

“Yes, Sir. Please, I need it so bad. I just wanna be your cum slut for you to fill up.” 

When Joel just groans at that, you know you’ve hit on something. “That’s what I am, right? Your cum slut to fill up?” You’re incredibly close to coming already, but you want to wait for Joel. 

“That’s what you are, angel. And you’re just perfect like that. Three holes for me to use. Always so,” he pants breathlessly as he’s tip-toeing on the edge of his release, “always so fucking good for me. Gonna- gonna ruin you, baby. Gonna make you come on my cock until you cry.”

“Can I please come, Sir? I- I don’t think I can wait anymore,” you whine desperately, Joel’s filthy mouth putting you over the edge. 

“Oh yeah, baby,” he pants breathlessly as he increases the pace of his strokes. You can hear the obscene sound of him fucking his fist. “You gonna come with me?”

You moan his name as you reach your peak, your whole body trembling and finding its release. Joel is right behind you, erupting into his hand and onto his belly with a strangled groan. Your orgasm is so intense that you can ride it out for a few ecstatic seconds filled with your breathless moans. When you come down from your climax, you only hear your blood rushing in your ears and the pulsating sound of your heart.  

You try to catch your breath for a few seconds and open your eyes before asking, “Joel, you alive?”

When the only thing you hear is heavy breathing, you giggle. You know exactly how he looks right now, all disheveled with his wet cock out and a big satisfied smile on his lips. You wish so badly you could lick up every last drop of his cum. 

“Mmm, you’re such a good girl,” Joel murmurs after some time, still coming down from his high and opening a drawer to retrieve some tissues. “I’ll clear my schedule, so we can do this every morning, alright?” 

You chuckle and turn on your side, “You’d get bored with me pretty quickly if we did this every day.” 

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve heard today,” Joel scoffs and wipes his softening cock with the tissues. “And I had to explain to Tommy that he can’t influence the gender of his future baby by fucking his wife a certain way. So, yeah.” 

You laugh at the image of Tommy vividly explaining how he and Maria have sex and Joel just standing there, dumbfounded, asking himself if he might have damaged his little brother’s brain when they were wrestling as kids.

“Alright, babe,” Joel says softly, “since my cock’s not hogging all of my blood anymore, I should try and get some work done.” 

“Good idea,” you chuckle. “Say hi to Tommy from me, okay?”

“Will do, darlin’. And you let me know when you got time to show me that new toy of yours in person, alright?” 

Your eyes lock on the big IKEA packages in your living room and you bite your lip. 

“You wanna come over later?”

—

You’re actually excited for your new sofa. You’ve had the old one removed by a company yesterday and already spread out the new carpet. It’s gray with white shapes on it. And it’s fluffy, so you’ve spent quite some time walking on it with bare feet.

You assembled your old sofa yourself when you moved in three years ago. It was dark blue and you loved it. But you also spilled a lot of stuff on there over time, bodily fluids included. So it’s nice to get a new, clean one. 

Especially when it’s the reason why Joel Miller is currently kneeling on your floor, his broad back and arms stretching the fabric of his white T-shirt, his perfect butt accentuated by his jeans, wrestling with the IKEA manual he insists is “misleading” and “must’ve been written by some idiot who’s never built anything in his goddamn life”.

Needless to say, you’re loving the free entertainment. 

He shoots you an annoyed look and lets out an exasperated sigh when you point out for the third time that he’s reading the instructions wrong. You can’t not tease him, he makes it too easy. 

“As much as I appreciate your very generous help, darlin’, I really wish you’d get the fuck outta here before I strangle you. Lovingly.” 

You giggle and scratch the back of his head softly. “It’s not like you to get so frustrated, baby,” you purr into his ear as you lean down, giving him a perfect view of your naked tits under your oversized shirt. “You sure you don’t need my help? I wouldn’t want you to strain your poor knees and back too much, you know.” 

You wish you could take pictures with your retinas because the glare Joel is giving you right now is priceless.

“You think that’s funny, huh?” He scoffs and tilts his head as his dark eyes bore into you. Uh-oh, now you did it. “If you’re not out of this room in ten seconds, I’m gonna tie you to your bed and edge you with a vibrator on full volume until you’re crying from pain. And believe me when I tell you that I will not let you come.” 

A smug smile tugs at the corners of his plush lips as he observes how your pupils have dilated and how you're pressing your thighs together at his threat. He raises an eyebrow when you don’t move and tuts, “Poor baby, already cockdumb even though I haven’t even touched her yet, hm?” You frown at him, but he just laughs at you. “Time’s ticking you little brat, better get out while you still can.” You bite the inside of your cheek and sigh dramatically before heading for your bedroom. 

When you hear Joel chuckle behind you, you hesitate for a second, but he’s already read your mind. “Don’t even think about it,” he growls. “And close the door.”

You do just that, jump on your bed and watch Netflix on your laptop. It only takes Joel another 40 minutes to finish assembling the sofa, so you’re pleasantly surprised when he calls your name so soon. 

You close your laptop and quickly smell your armpits. You’ve showered in the morning, but it’s still incredibly hot even with the AC blasting. When you’ve assessed that you smell good, you open the door to the living room. 

“How do you like it?” Joel asks as he’s standing next to the cream-colored piece of furniture. He’s already put away all of the packaging material and made sure the cushions are clean. It looks absolutely stunning and nicely complements all the other furniture in the room.

You trace the back of the sofa with your hand, appreciating the soft material and come to a halt when you’re flush with Joel’s body. You look up into his eyes and coo, “Thank you so much, Joel. I love it.” He smiles back at you and studies your face for a second before grabbing you by the nape of your neck and your ass cheek. 

“You listen to me very carefully now ‘cause I’m not gonna repeat myself,” he growls, intensifying the grip on your neck. “You do as you’re told. You answer me. You don’t come unless I tell you to and I’m not gonna stop unless you say your safeword. Understood?”

You’re so stunned that you can only nod, your words completely failing you. 

You gasp in surprise as Joel’s palm cracks against your left cheek, leaving a stinging imprint. You instinctively move your left hand to soothe the pain, but Joel is faster than you and catches your wrist. “Tell me your safeword, baby,” he purrs and caresses your sensitive cheek. 

You stammer the specific word you both know to be your safeword before he tangles his hand in your hair and captures your lips in a hungry kiss. Your heart rate picks up immediately as you part your lips slightly, allowing his tongue to slip in. The sensation of Joel’s soft lips and his broad body pressing against yours has you rub against the bulge in his jeans. 

He grabs your thigh and lifts it up, so he can grind against your aching core directly. You moan into his mouth, your hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him into you as you move your hips in sync with his thrusts. You’re so sensitive since your orgasm this morning that you could come like this if he let you.

“Such a needy little thing, aren’t you,” he pants as he breaks the kiss and studies your face. Your pupils are blown, your chest is heaving and your mind is spinning. You want him so badly it hurts. “Take off your clothes and bend over the armrest, baby,” Joel orders and you obey immediately. You let your shirt and pj pants fall down to your feet, causing Joel to suck in a sharp breath when he sees that you’re not wearing any panties. 

He looks at you hungrily as you bend over the sofa, your arms resting on the cushion and your ass in the air with your legs spread. 

“You’re the prettiest little whore I’ve ever seen, you know that?” He asks as he’s tracing your back with his fingertips. When you don’t answer him, he smacks your ass hard. You yelp in surprise at the impact and instinctively close your legs. Joel presses his clothed bulge against your wet pussy and kicks your feet apart with his. He caresses the red cheek with one hand and tangles the other in your hair to yank your head back. “Answer me or I’ll spank you until you can’t anymore,” he growls into your ear, the dangerous tone of his voice sending a shiver down your spine. 

“I’m the prettiest little whore you’ve ever seen,” you blurt out, then moan at the feeling of Joel running his fingers through your folds. “Mmm, you’re such a good girl,” he praises. “Always so wet for me.”

You hear him unbutton and unzip his jeans, hear his belt buckle hit the floor and his heavy breathing behind you as he coats his hard cock in your slick and gives it a few pumps. “I need you to be strong now, angel,” he says softly as he rubs your clit with his index and middle finger. You’re so desperate for him to touch you that his words don’t register. 

A needy moan escapes your lips as he’s finally relieving some of the tension that’s been building in your core all day long. You push your hips back as far as you can to chase the friction, but Joel withdraws his fingers all too quickly. You whine desperately at the loss and immediately feel tears well up in your eyes. You hear the dull thud of his T-shirt hitting the floor.

“Shh, be good for me, baby,” Joel purrs before you feel his hands grabbing your hips and the head of his cock nudging your entrance. Your eyes widen in realization as your brain has now processed what he’s planning on doing.   

Before you can protest though, he’s already ramming his cock inside you in one smooth thrust, splitting you open with a force you’ve never felt before. 

“Fuuuck, that’s it, baby,” Joel groans loudly, stumbling forward because of the shiver that’s running down his spine, causing him to go even deeper. 

The sudden impact of his cock spreading you open without any preparation besides your wetness has knocked the air out of your lungs. Only when he moves and nudges your cervix does your body finally allow you to cry out in pain.  

“Shh, it’s okay baby, it’s okay, I’m here,” Joel purrs as he gives you no time to adjust to his size or the pain at all, but starts to set a slow rhythm, thrusting his cock in and out of your tight pussy. You sob into the cushion and try to rub your clit on the armrest, but Joel pulls you back on his cock hard when he notices. 

“Nuh-uh, baby,” he tuts as he picks up the pace and uses his grip on your sides to bounce you on his cock. “What do you think you’re doing, huh?” 

He slaps the same spot on your ass as before when you don’t answer him. Your chest heaves as you choke on your sobs, unable to get an answer out. “I know it hurts, baby. I’m so sorry about that,” he coos as he continually rocks into you at an unrelenting pace. “But I really need you to answer me, angel.”

“I-I want to c-come, Sir,” you sob pathetically, tears streaming from your eyes. 

“I get that, baby, I really do. But I don’t think you understand what this is,” Joel groans. “You really think I’m gonna let you come, you brat?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you whine as Joel’s cock expertly massages your G-spot with every powerful thrust of his hips. The mix of pain and pleasure has your body and mind on fire. There are no thoughts in your brain, no ex-boyfriends, no past, no blood, no sadness - just Joel and you, melting into one. 

When he feels you tighten your muscles around him, hears your breathing get ragged and the pitch of your moans get higher, he pulls out of you. You scream and sob into the cushion as your legs shake uncontrollably. You were so close. 

“Fuck, I love the sounds you make,” Joel breathes, then starts stroking your back and ass gently before watching his cock disappear into your body once again. “I don’t care how good it feels,” he pants. “You'd better not come until I tell you to.” 

When you feel your orgasm approach quickly again, your body so utterly desperate for release, you resort to begging. There is no pride left, only carnal desire. 

“Please Joel, please, let me come, please,” you whimper weakly between sobs. “You can come wherever you w-want, my ass, my pussy, my m-mouth, all over me - just please let me come. I can’t take it anymore.” 

“That’s a good girl, begging so pretty,” Joel coos and slowly pulls out of you. He holds you steady as he feels you tremble. “Lie down, darlin,” he says softly and guides you on your back.

He kneels between your legs and puts one of them over his shoulders. He lines himself up with your entrance and pushes in. “Look at me, baby,” Joel breathes. “Look at me when you come.” You moan softly as he brings you to the edge of your release in the matter of a few thrusts. “That’s it, angel,” Joel encourages you, his face hovering above yours. “Don’t hold back, I got you,” he nods. You arch your back as you reach your peak, a choked groan escaping your lips as wave after wave of ecstasy washes over you. 

“Fuck, you’re so perfect, baby. Wanna come all over you,” Joel groans, your walls contracting around him as he’s slamming his hips against your core with abandon.

“Don’t ruin the sofa,” you mumble between breathless moans. Joel chuckles into your ear and nibbles on your earlobe. “I guess I’ll just have to fill you up then,” he rasps, picking up the pace and sinking his teeth into the delicate skin of your neck.

He comes with a low, rough grunt as he spills himself deep inside you. His hips stutter and his whole body suddenly goes limp as he comes down from his high on top of you. You draw shapes onto his back with your fingertips and he hums into the crook of your neck. When he tries to pull out after a few seconds, you grab his ass to stop him. 

“No, no, no,” you protest weakly, “it’ll drip on the sofa.” 

“Alright, baby, no worries. Just hold on to me, can you do that?” Joel asks gently. “Hm,” you answer and wrap your hands around his neck. He maneuvers you from your back into a sitting position with you on top, then moves to stand with you wrapped around him. He carries you to the bathroom like this, making sure his cock stays inside you the whole way. 

He lets you down right in front of the toilet and you immediately sit down, so his cum doesn’t drip on the floor. “Join me, when you’re done, okay?” Joel murmurs as he kisses your forehead before stepping into the shower. You pee and wait a bit for more of his cum to trickle out of you, then step into the shower as well. 

You squeeze past Joel to stand under the water, wet your whole body and hair and squirt some of the peach scented body wash onto your loofah to scrub your body. “Let me do your back,” Joel says softly, then massages you from your neck down to your feet with the sponge as you apply your shampoo.

When you’re both done, you dry off with two of your fluffiest towels and go to put on your clothes. You get yourself a new pair of pajama pants and another oversized shirt and Joel puts the clothes he came in back on. 

“What do you want from Domino’s?” You shout from the bedroom. Time for pizza and Netflix.

—

“What the fuck,” you hiss as you see the new notification on your phone. “I fucking told you to leave me alone, what is so fucking hard to understand? Asshole.” You lean over the counter and stare at Simon’s messages. Wanna give you space, babe. But I can’t live without you. You put the leftover pizza in your fridge and slam the door.

“You alright, darlin’?” Joel asks as he’s suddenly standing behind you in the kitchen.

“Yeah, sorry, all good,” you murmur, turning around to face him and putting on the most convincing smile you’re capable of right now. You’re not fooling Joel for a second and you know it. When he gives you a sympathetic look, you can’t muster the strength to pull up the corners of your lips anymore. Instead, you look at the fuzzy slippers on your feet and sigh deeply. “It’s my ex,” you say quietly. “He started calling and texting me a week ago after no contact for three years and it’s really stressing me out.” 

Your eyes find Joel’s and you immediately feel sorry for bringing it up. “Fuck, I-I’m sorry,” you stammer and shake your head. “It’s not your problem. Forget what I said.” He closes the distance between you two and wraps his strong arms around you in a warm embrace. You put your arms around him and stroke his back. You can feel his heartbeat. 

“Why don’t I make us some coffee and we sit back down on your new, not-ruined sofa, hm?” He murmurs into your hair with a smile.

“Joel, I don’t-”

“We don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to. We can just sit, drink coffee and not talk as much as you want.” His warm hands softly rubbing your back make you feel so safe. 

“Okay, thank you,” you mumble into his shoulder before letting go of him. You open a drawer and pull out a bag of cookies. “I got these for you if you want them.” You hold up the bag and Joel takes it with a furrowed brow and a curious smile. 

“How in the world did you know?”

“You honestly don’t remember?” You giggle. “You ranted about how much you love these for an hour when we got high a few weeks ago. They don’t sell them anywhere nearby so I ordered them in a specialty store online.”

Joel shakes his head and looks at you with his big puppy eyes. “You’re the best, darlin’. Thank you.” He kisses your forehead gently, then tells you to make yourself comfortable on the sofa.

You sit down and look around. Being here feels different. Your apartment looks the same as it did a few hours ago. Sure, the sofa and carpet are new, but there’s something else. You realize that it doesn’t bother you to have someone else in your home, in your safe space. It’s actually kind of nice to know someone’s here. 

“There you go,” Joel says as he hands you your cup. He sits down beside you and puts a bowl filled with cookies on the coffee table. 

You pull your feet up onto the cushion and say, “Thank you.” Joel puts his arm over the backrest and caresses the nape of your neck with his fingers. 

“You remember what I told you when you asked me to stay over on our first night together?” You ask quietly.

“I do,” Joel says softly. “You said you couldn’t and when I asked what you meant by that you said you didn’t wanna get attached.” 

“Sounds kinda mean now that I’m thinking about it,” you murmur. “You know it has nothing to do with you, right?”

“I know, darlin’,” Joel reassures you. “And I’ve told you from the beginning that I’m not gonna pressure you into anything you’re not ready for. We got a good thing going and as long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”

“I haven’t always been this way, you know,” you sigh and play with the hem of your shirt. “And I fucking hate that it was one guy that ruined everything,” you say dryly and stare into your black coffee. “It wasn’t a good relationship to begin with and we both made some bad decisions. I know that. So when I packed up a handful of my things and walked out of our apartment forever, I didn’t think I’d ever hear from him again. Until now.” You take a sip of your coffee and continue, “He apologized for the shit he did and asked me to meet him.”

“How do you feel about that? Him apologizing?” Joel asks, his calm tone of voice soothing your nerves. 

You sigh deeply and let your head fall back onto the sofa. “I feel like it’s a goddamn joke,” you scoff and throw your arm over your eyes. “I don’t believe a single word he says and he didn’t even really apologize, you know? He still doesn’t understand what he did. Or maybe he does and just doesn’t care.”

You lift your arm and turn your head to look at Joel. “I dunno which is worse.”

“It sucks that he’s not giving you the apology you deserve after hurting you. I’m sorry, darlin’.”

“I just don’t understand why it bothers me so much, you know? I haven’t seen him in three years, I’m over it, so why does it still hurt so fucking bad?”

“Did you love him?” Joel asks and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

You look into his big, sincere eyes and nod. “Yeah,” you murmur. “At least I thought I did.” 

“Well, there’s your answer, sweetheart.” 

You hide your face behind your hands. “I’m such a fucking idiot,” you groan, embarrassed of your pathetic feelings and the way you’re behaving in front of Joel. Being this emotionally vulnerable is causing you physical pain. 

“Hey, stop that nonsense,” he objects immediately, scooting closer to you and pulling you against his chest. “You have a big heart, you have feelings. You’re allowed to feel hurt and you’re allowed to feel sad.” He kisses the crown of your head and murmurs, “You don’t have to be strong all the time.”

“Have you ever cut someone out of your life completely?” You mumble into his chest. 

“I have.”

“Do you ever think about them?”

“Sure I do,” Joel nods. “Not often, but yeah. It’s normal. Especially if they meant a lot to you.” 

“Hmm, I guess.”

You look up and give him a genuine smile before sighing and reaching for the remote. “Enough heavy stuff for today,” you say. “Let’s watch something. I can feed you cookies and scratch your back…”

—

“You wanna know what I like about you?”

“My old man fetish.”

He looks at you incredulously for a second, then starts tickling the soles of your feet in retaliation. “You’re such an ass,” he laughs as you try to wriggle away. You squeal and try to kick him off, but he’s got both of your ankles in a firm grasp. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he murmurs, then pulls you closer. “C’mere.” 

You sit up and straddle him, your hands resting on his broad shoulders. Joel puts his arms around you, his hands splayed on your back, instantly grounding you and providing a sense of security. 

He looks into your eyes and murmurs, “What I was going to say is that I like your honesty; with yourself and others. It’s a quality you should never give up on, even if it’s hard.”

“I’ll try.”

“Good girl,” he murmurs, then looks at his watch. “I should go, darlin’. It’s been a long day.” 

You nod and let him get up to put on his shoes. 

“Joel?” 

He turns around and looks at you with raised eyebrows.

You want to tell him that he doesn’t need to go, that he can stay this time, but the words just won’t leave your lips. Instead you say, “Thank you for today, seriously.” You walk up to him and press a soft kiss to his lips. “You really helped me and made me feel so much better.” 

Joel doesn’t answer immediately as he tilts his head and studies your face. “I’m glad I could cheer you up, darlin’,” he coos and caresses your left cheek. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”

“Will do, Joel. Thank you.” 

—

You open Simon’s messages and type in your reply before blocking him. 

Simon: But I can’t live without you You: Then die

—

Why didn't you stay?

You and I aren't so different

Flowers from the same seed, you and me

But we have our differences.

I am red and you are gold

I am loved and you adored

I was wilting but you were strong

I died and came; you bloomed and swayed.

You and I are sisters from the same seed

But you left me when the storms came

And I still loved you ever the same

But now you leave me again

And all my petals turned gray

Where my love once laid resentment took its place

When once I was red and you gold

I am grey and you alone.

And when you seek my company and comfort in the beautiful lonely night

All you will hear and all I will say is

Why didn't you stay?

Love is real. It is everywhere. One day love will find me too.

love is real. it’ll never happen to me. whatever

in the lap of the gods

aziraphale x f!reader x crowley

summary: it’s 1941, and aziraphale is about to perform on the west end stage. he needs an assistant, of course, but you can’t stand the outfit you’re required to wear. your angel and your demon show you just how much they love it.

word count: 3k

warnings/tags: smut and fluff, reader wears a slutty outfit, threesome, thigh riding, semi-public sex, body worship, crowley’s a horny bitch, war violence, bombs, mentions of alcohol, mentions of guns

“I really don’t see why this get-up has got to be so… revealing,” you said. “I look like a harlot.”

“Well,” came a voice from behind the thin paper of the changing screen, “I suppose it’s to entice the strapping young soldiers out there. They do seem to enjoy a bit of… should I say… adultery?”

There came a second voice from further in the room, coiled and slick like a serpent. “Or,” he drawled, “it’s for easy access.”

“Crowley,” chided the first voice, disdain dripping from his tongue.

You gave a silent huff as you adjusted the skimpy little outfit the manager of the West End theater had given you, tugging at the thin material that barely covered your breasts and the thin strap that snaked between your legs. It was a glittery, near-elastic piece of pazazz that was sure to earn you more than a few glances and whistles this evening… something you promised you wouldn’t let get to you. If not for your reputation, for the pair of men on the other side of the changing screen that encased you like a butterfly trapped in a jar.

If you inhaled deep enough, you were still able to smell the smoke that clung to Aziraphale and Crowley’s suits, permeating the air and poisoning their natural musks that you so loved to inhale. You had spent the better part of the evening, as you followed them through London streets and around a magic shop, picking pieces of rubble and dusting traces of the explosion from their backs and shoulders. The bomb had shaken you to your core despite being miles away when it had happened, tucked away safely in the passenger seat of the Bentley.

“Crowley,” you had said as your demon had parked his car between the shadows of two tall, sturdy buildings that still stood against the smoke and destruction of the bombs. “What are we doing here? There’s still planes overhead.”

“Just sit tight for a minute, love,” he’d replied before climbing from the Bentley. “It seems our angel’s got himself in a heap of mess.”

The explosion had rocked the ancient church in the distance like a match igniting a stick of dynamite; fast, and hot, and loud. You waited so long you considered getting out and running to search the site for your lovers before they had come strolling around the corner through the dark, dusting themselves off and murmuring quietly beneath their breaths.

“Aziraphale,” you had said when you climbed from the car to greet them. “What on earth have you done?”

“Good evening to you, as well, my darling,” he had said, then lifted your hand and placed a loving kiss upon your knuckles. “Just got myself a bit caught up. Nothing to worry your head over.”

Crowley had harrumphed slightly as he dropped himself into the driver’s seat once more. “Get in, you two. I’ve got an appointment to keep.”

An appointment had led to forty broken bottles of whiskey. Forty broken bottles of whiskey had led to Aziraphale becoming a magician, and that had led to buying a very real rifle with very real bullets. And the rifle, and the bullets, and the broken bottles of whiskey, and everything else had led to you finding yourself here behind this changing screen, examining the costume of a magician’s assistant who, really, was only there to look pretty and smile when the light panned over her.

Crowley had told you it would be a bit of fun, was all. Aziraphale had assured you no real harm would be done.

Had you not loved them both more than you needed air to breathe, you might have considered saying no, begging your angel to not get up on that stage, dropping to your knees and begging your demon to miracle up a few more bottles of liquor to make up for the whole thing.

But, oh… you loved them far too much.

“Are you about settled, my darling?” came Aziraphale’s voice from deeper in the cramped little dressing room. “It’s ten ‘til, and I would rather not further anger the madame of the theater any more than necessary.”

“She’s a loony old bat,” came Crowley’s quip. “A few minutes won’t hurt her.”

You took one last look down at yourself - at the feathered headband in your grip; the exposed tops of your legs and the plump ‘V’ of your upper thighs that led to their apex just covered by the elastic; the heels that glittered in the dim light; the curves of your breasts, just barely held in place by the haltered neckline of the costume. You looked ridiculous.

With a long, deep breath you felt in your sternum, you placed a hand on the edge of the changing screen. “Don’t you boys poke your fun at me,” you warned them. “I know how I look, I don’t need you both reminding me.”

You pulled back the screen and stepped out, avoiding their eyes as you fiddled with the headband. You expected Crowley to bark out bouts of laughter, for Aziraphale to politely cover his mouth and look away to hide the rosiness of his cheeks as he held back a few giggles. But there came none of that. Instead, you were only met with silence. Hesitantly, you glanced up to meet their gazes.

Crowley and Aziraphale, for once in their eternal lives, looked rather lost for words. You didn’t take too many moments to soak in the way the demon tilted down his shades so he could peer those yellow eyes over the rims, nor how the angel’s back had gone stiff and he clutched his magician’s hat to his chest so tightly his knuckles paled. Instead of entertaining their amusement, you scoffed and clicked over to the vanity illuminated with golden bulbs; funny. Almost all the Watson bulbs had been grinded down for the war efforts. You supposed the West End had a bit of advantage in their supply when it came to things like glass and elastic.

“Yes, yes, gape all you want,” you snipped as you leaned forward to examine your reflection in the mirror; Christ almighty, you looked like a common slut. “Neither of you know how humiliating this is.”

At once, your angel jumped into action. “No, dearest,” he said as he came to stand beside you at the vanity, gently discarding his hat on the countertop. “We’re not poking fun at you, not in the slightest. We’re… well, you simply look…”

You eyed him from the corner of your vision.

“Incredibly doable,” came Crowley’s pitch from where he’d spread himself across the old couch tucked against the wall.

Aziraphale sent him a rather stern glance as you felt your chest drop slightly into your belly. You fixed your reflection with another stare. You looked like a prostitute, all your private planes and surfaces on display for everyone who even glanced in your direction. There was hardly a chance they enjoyed seeing their girl pimped up like this; was there?

“What he’s attempting to say,” said your angel as he reached out a soft, well-manicured hand and rested it respectfully on the middle of your back, “is, well… you do look rather ravishing, is all.”

“Oh, stop it, the both of you. You’re being mean.” Shouldering off his touch, you reached for a bit of the lipstick resting against the vanity and tried to stop your hands from trembling as you pulled off the cap and screwed it up. In all honesty, it still flustered you a bit when they showered you in affection; which they did often. How was it possible that an angel and a demon, in love themselves, who had seen the beginning of the earth and all the beautiful men and women in it, had fallen for you, a mortal, a little bit of soul within this planet full of it?

It didn’t quite make sense to you, but in the moments like these, when you felt yourself growing weak against their words, you cast the thought aside and let sense run rampant.

“After all this time, and you still don’t believe us when we say something nice?” clicked Crowley, reaching up to take the brim of his hat and rest it on the arm of the couch. He tilted his head at you in the reflection of the mirror, his gaze just out of sight behind his shades. “Come here.”

You looked to Aziraphale before blinking a few times, smearing your third layer of lipstick across your mouth. “The show will start soon,” you heard yourself say hesitantly. “I have to go out and announce him to the audience before…”

“Come here.”

Your demon’s sudden drop in tone sent a pang of both anxiety and arousal racing through you like fire dancing along your veins. You set down the tube of lipstick, hearing it clatter slightly from the shaking of your hand, and twisted around on your ridiculous heels to face him. He sat there on the couch, legs spread like he owned the world and arms stretched across the back of the seats like he was waiting for his two favorite people to arrive at his sides. He waited chin held high, finger tapping impatiently on the back. Aziraphale said nothing as you trailed from his side and approached the demon; when he spoke like this, it affected the both of you in the same way.

Crowley adjusted his legs when you came to him, allowing you to tentatively straddle his thighs until your hips were flush against his. A look back in the mirror told you your ass was hanging out of your skimpy little get-up, the leotard-like shape doing nothing to protect your modesty. Aziraphale seemed to be enjoying it quite nicely. You felt long, slender fingers touch your chin and guide your vision back to your demon. With his other hand, he reached up and pulled off his shades so that he could meet your gaze, yellow, slitted eyes boring into yours.

“You really ought to start taking our word for things, love,” Crowley said, and you shivered when his voice retained its deep baritone that only saw the light when there were two things at hand; imminent danger, and the promise of depravity. “‘Cause when we say you look good…” He leaned forward until his thin lips were level with the shell of your ear, his breath fanning across your skin. “We bloody well mean it.”

His hips shallowly bucked up into yours then and the rough material of his trousers rubbed at your clit perfectly through the thin elastic of your costume. You were unable to keep a soft, breathy murmur from escaping your lips at the sudden jolt of feeling, your hands flying up to balance yourself on his broad shoulders.

Behind you, you heard Aziraphale take in a small breath at the sight. He nervously shuffled his weight on his feet, glancing to the door that led to the stage. “Crowley,” he said in what should have been a warning, but it was far too soft to be taken seriously. “Now is… now is certainly not a good time for this.”

Crowley pulled another sound from you, this time a moan, when he held your hips in place and bucked again. “Well, it’s like I said,” he replied, tilting his head so he could look up at you as your hair fell into your face and your eyes began to roll back. “A few minutes won’t hurt them.” The corners of his mouth twitched upwards. “Besides, our girl’s nervous. Come and lend a hand, calm her a bit. You know how she likes it.”

You felt your face flush with heat from embarrassment, but you were slowly losing your will to care as Crowley leaned down to attach his lips to the base of your throat. His forked tongue laved across your skin like he was trying to memorize your taste, teeth nipping and fingers tightening around your waist. You were hardly able to notice when a second weight dipped the couch beside him, and your demon patted your thigh to get you to move. You knew just what to do; you always did. Feeling yourself beginning to grow slick between your legs, most assuredly ruining the gusset of this ridiculous outfit, you swung your legs over to kneel across both Crowley and Aziraphale’s thighs, which were pressed together where they sat so close not an inch of light could have separated them.

Aziraphale’s warm hand reached out to gently cup your chin, his thumb brushing lovingly across your jaw. “Forgive our earlier stutter, my darling,” he said, then leaned forward to press his plump lips to the point where your clavicle dipped. “I assume by now you know the effect you have on us.” He kissed you again, this time upon your bare shoulder. “Especially when you present yourself in such an outfit.”

Just a sigh escaped your lips, Crowley’s finger ran along your side, pulling a short yip from your throat that he quickly swallowed by fitting his mouth over yours. From there, they moved like they shared one mind, like they knew you inside and out because, really, they did.

The couch creaked quietly as Crowley dragged your barely-clothed cunt over their thighs, earning them a drawn-out moan like a symphony to their ears, and Aziraphale’s grip came up to hold the back of your neck steady as he pressed kiss after kiss to anywhere he could reach; your throat; your chest; your shoulder; your arm. They moved you about like their own little doll, so familiar and fine tuned with your reactions they knew they would happen before they did. Sparks erupted like flint on stone within the pit of your belly when, eventually, Crowley pulled you forward at a slightly new angle and your clit caught wonderfully upon a hitch in Aziraphale’s trousers. You tilted your head back and released a long moan, barely able to keep yourself up when you were suddenly worked to hit that spot over and over again.

“Ah…!” you mewled as Aziraphale nipped ever so softly at the exposed skin of your shoulder. Your arms trembled as you struggled to keep your hold on their shoulders. “Oh, right there, boys, right there. Keep going, please don’t stop…!”

Crowley’s lips tilted up into a crooked smirk, slitted eyes drinking you in like a forbidden liquor he’d been dying for since he first heard of it. “I hardly think you need to go out there at all, angel,” he said to Aziraphale beside him. “We’ve got our own show right here.”

You worked your hips along with Crowley’s push and pull, offering more and more of your skin to your angel for him to mark and lavish, feeling yourself approach that cliff they so loved to drag you off again and again. You never feared the fall; you knew they would always be waiting to catch you before you hit the bottom.

Small, whimpered noises escaped your throat as you chased your released upon their thighs, your clit rubbing and catching perfectly against their trousers like this was exactly what they were made for. Lips were showering your skin with love and affection. Hands were anchored securely to your waist. You were held so intensely, so beautifully, that it only took a few words from the tip of Crowley’s tongue to send you reeling toward your end.

“Come on and sin for us, love.”

Your orgasm came hard and fast, racking your body with trembles and twitches you couldn’t control, with bursts of color in your vision like fireworks, like guns firing off beside your ears with smoke that would blind you for days. You felt your release stain the fabric of their pants, and it was the last thing you really minded before all but collapsing against the pair. Hands, arms, mouths caught you securely, rubbing along your back, holding you tight, gently kissing along your face. You felt them pull away for just a moment to meet each other for a deep, passionate kiss before returning to smothering you with adoration.

It was an idyllic few seconds, the quiet that came after an explosion of a moment such as that, before there came a sharp, rattling knock against the dressing room door. “Pick up the pace, Mister Fell,” came the voice of the madame of the theater. “We’ve got an audience waiting, and the war’s not getting any better these days!”

You groaned softly, nestling your face into Aziraphale’s neck as he stroked your hair and called in return, “Ah, yes, of course. We’ll be right out!”

You wanted nothing more than to not go up on the damned West End stage, to smile and twist in your glittery costume and tease the soldiers in the audience like you hadn’t just gotten your world rocked within an inch of your life. And yet… everything came to an end. You whimpered again when your angel gently shifted you off of him, placing you temporarily in Crowley’s hold, before getting to his feet and gently snapping his fingers. You felt the dampness across your demon’s thigh fade into nothingness, along with the slick between your legs. Your hair righted itself to its former do, and the smudged lipstick across your mouth was once more perfected. When you lifted your head, however, you noticed Crowley had elected to keep the messy imprint of your lips across the corner of his mouth.

He noticed you looking and gave you a sly, crooked grin. “I like to wear my trophies,” he said before pulling your head close and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Come along now, gorgeous. Don’t want to keep the fans waiting.”

Shakily, you got to your feet, struggling momentarily to stand on your heels. While your heart slowed its racing pulse and the heat gently ebbed from your cheeks, Aziraphale lifted your feathered headband from before and tucked it securely over your hair.

“There’s our darling,” he murmured, smiled softly down at you, then tilted up your chin to press a light, though nonetheless loving kiss upon your swollen lips. “Are you ready?”

You took a breath, straightened yourself out, and nodded your head. “I am now, I think,” you replied.

“Perfect,” said your angel. “Because I’ve got a bullet to catch.”

PART 1 & 2 TOGETHER

🪐 where aziraphale locks you and crowley in the bookshop forcing you to make peace within eachother, but instead you both come up with a better idea to pass time.

warnings: lots of dirty talking, smut and english is not my first language (sorry it took so long, my computer broke and the part 2 got lost)

After ordering “make peace within each other!” with a mischievous smile on his face, Aziraphale left the bookshop, but not before locking in his two dearest friends; Crowley and you.

Unfortunately, the demon wasn’t your favorite. Not even a little. You perceived him as a vile, naughty and cruel being, even though Az tried to convince you otherwise thousands of times. About Crowley… well, his feeling were a little bit messy.

So Aziraphale got tired.

The angel couldn’t stand seeing the people he loved the most hating each other like that. It was time for him to do something about it, so he did.

“I can’t fucking believe he locked us in!” you said loudly, kicking a wooden chair but then sitting on it.

Crowley watched you with unblinking eyes for a moment, and then his expression changed to a sly smile. “Look at us.” he said, in a lazy but seductive tone. “A human and a demon being forced to play nice together.”

“You know what, Mr. Crowley?” you asked, playing cool. “We should play a game: we stay silent for the night and wait until tomorrow.” you proposed, with a big and false smile.

Crowley raised an eyebrow at you comment and leaning in closer, he asked:

“Are you afraid you won’t be able to control yourself if you open your mouth?”

He had the same tone again.

“Oh, come on, Crowley!” you insisted, standing up and walking towards a bookshelf, trying to find something to read that could keep you away from the demon.

“Ah, so I hit a nerve.” he says and after a few seconds he broke a silence that was starting to grow. “May I ask what are you going to read?” Crowley inquired, watching as you continued looking for something interesting.

“Look, you don’t have to force it.” you said with honesty, not even looking at him, focused reading the titles of the books in front of you. “We could just co-exist for a few hours and I guess we will be alr… Aziraphale has the fucking Kamasutra in his bookshop!?” you almost screamed, too shocked.

Crowley’s eyes seems to light up and he couldn’t help but laugh. “A classic!” he says. “I mean, it’s not surprising that Aziraphale keeps a copy of the Kamasutra here. It’s one of the oldest tomes of knowledge in existence, full of wisdom and insight into the nature of human desire. It makes complete sense for a book this sacred to be housed in a bookshop run by someone like him.” for the first time, he was saying something clever, you thought.

“I guess you’re right.” you said, leaving the book right were you found it. “It just feels… weird to picture.”

“I’ve heard the techniques described within those pages are simply divine.” Crowley said and you could feel his gaze on your body. “Maybe,” he said with a mischievous tone in his voice, “we could put them to the test?”

“Demons can have sex with humans?” you asked, ignoring his proposal. You sat in one little couch and, of course, Crowley sat in front of you.

“It’s not unusual for demons to have some intimacy with humans.” he simply answers, adjusting his position. “To seek out whatever pleasures this world has to offer.”

“Oh…” you managed to say, a little bit disturbed (but curious). “That’s why you have such a face of a virgin.” you tried to insult him, but Crowley just let out a chuckle.

“You have no idea.” he said in a playful tone and then leaned closer, with his eyes fixed on yours. “But you could find out.” he says in a whisper, his lips curving into a grin. “Just imagine all the things I could show you…”

“Are you flirting with me, Crowley?” you asked him, grabbing and old bottle of whiskey from Az’s desk and taking a quick sip. Maybe it would help. “Flirting with the girl you despise the most?”

Crowley raised an eyebrow as you take a sip of whiskey, smiling slightly. “Perhaps I’m flirting with you to see what kind of reaction I can get out of you.” his tone was still alluring. “But I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy this little exchange we’re having.” he added.

“Oh…” you took another sip, this time gaining more courage to speak. “So you are teasing me for fun? Or because you actually want to make real all of these fantasies of yours?”

The demon shrugged, seeming to be enjoying your reaction. “Maybe a little bit of both?” he said, grinning. He leaned in closer again, whispering in a soft tone. “Just imagine how much fun we could have together… just the two of us. No rules, no constraints… just pure pleasure.”

“But why?” you asked.

“I mean, if you want constraints I guess I can use a rope on you…” he started to say, completely into it.

“Not the constraints, stupid. Why would you like us to fuck?” you asked more clearly this time, feeling the warmth of the whiskey travelling down your throat.

“Because we are bored, and we have a long night ahead.” he simply answered. “And also because I know you would enjoy it.” He chuckled.

“So you would do it just for me to enjoy it?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh no, I would totally enjoy it too.” he affirmed, showing a smile with teeth.

“Well…” you started to consider it, but the idea seemed too risky. You stood up and started to walk around the place, with Crowley’s piercing eyes following you. “As much as I would like to kick your face and send you back to hell… I can’t deny I find the idea pretty… desirable.” you finally said, and even though you weren’t looking at him, you just knew the kind of smile Crowley had in his face.

“Tell me your rules.” Crowley proposed, after whispering your name with a mischievous tone. “And I’ll be sure I break them all.”

You turned around to face him.

“I have rules, yes.” you confirmed. “But they are for you to follow, understood?”

“Mhm…” the demon vaguely answered, standing up, walking and then leaning against a wall in a casual manner, folding his arms. “I’m listening.”

“No marks.” you insisted. “You can’t leave marks on me because that implies Az could find out. And he locked us here for us to become friends, not fuck.”

“I’m pretty sure the angel would be delighted with the idea of us fucking, but… no marks.”

“Secondly, after we are done, we are done.” you ordered. “We go back to where we were.”

“Very well…” he said in a seductive tone, walking slowly towards you. “And what if I don’t want us to go back to how we were after we’re done?” he softly asked, leaning closer to you. Your bodies were almost touching. “What if I want more?” there was a predator tone in his voice. And you liked it.

“Tell me your rules.” you now said, ignoring all of what he mentioned before.

“Oh, where would the fun be in that?” he said. “How about a little game?” he suggested. “We’ll play a nice game of truths and dares.” he started to walk around the room, but now you were the one following him with your eyes.

You sighed, feeling a little bit nervous but undeniably curious.

“Go ahead.” you accepted. “Truth.”

“Perfect.” he smiled. “Let’s start with an easy one…” his playful voice slowly shifting into something a little more intense and serious. “Since you know us, how many times have you thought about me, even just for a moment?”

You rolled your eyes, but willing to answer with the truth.

“Some times. When I’m visiting Aziraphale and you make your appearance… always so dramatic… I want to strangle you.” you chuckled. “And other times… I also want to strangle you, but in a… playful way.”

Crowley let out a slight purr and seemed to appreciate the honesty.

“Good job, it’s admirable to be true to your feelings.” he says, with hints of irony in his voice.

“Truth or dare?” it was now your turn, and you had plenty of ideas running around your mind.

“I’m a demon, I love a good old dare.” Crowley answered with a smug smile. “I have no fear of anything you could come up with.”

“Kneel.” you ordered. “In front of me.”

The demon seemed to like being ordered around. “As you wish.” he said.

He slowly got down on his knees in front of you, taking off his glasses at the same time. Now his eyes were looking up at you, and you enjoyed the view so much.

“Is this your idea of fun?” he asked, flirty. “Or is it a way to assert your dominance over me?” he whispered, his voice still alluring.

“Maybe.” you answered. “Would you like me to dominate you, Crowley?”

He seemed to consider your words, his face turning into a slight smile.

“Perhaps I would like that.” he teased, quickly getting up from his knees, still staring at you with snake eyeshadow “But I’m not sure I believe you can really dominate me. Or should I say… I’m fairly certain you can’t.” he then leaned against the wall with a cocky smirk on his face. “But oh, love, I would like you to prove me wrong"

You sighed again, taking a step back from him. The idea was madness, but you couldn’t help but being totally into it.

“Okay, then.” you finally said, firmly. “Who’s going to make the first move?” It was clearly not going to be you; it was his idea first.

Crowley moved closer to you again.

“Let’s see…” he began. “Perhaps I would prefer to let you make the first move?” he confessed, leaning against the nearest wall and folding his arms in a casual manner. “But don’t worry; I’m sure I’ll be able to tempt you into breaking your own rules.” he added with a smirk. “And it’s indeed one of the pleasures of the flesh, to hear the sighs and screams of a woman being dominated.”

You raised an eyebrow and asked him;

“Oh, so now you want to dominate me?”

“I don’t know…” he said, with a small grin on his face. “What would you do if I wanted to? How would you react if I told you to bend over and please me?” There was a predatory look on his face. “In the end, it doesn’t really matter who makes the first move. Because we both now the end result will be me on top, and you screaming my name.”

You rolled your eyes.

“We’ll see.” you said, starting to walk slowly and seductively around the bookshop, knowing very well that Crowley would totally follow you.

The demon’s expression shifted into something more playful, and he followed you around the place with his hungry eyes watching every movement of yours. He waited patiently for something to happen, but actually he is not patient at all.

“So, what brings you to the bookshop today?” he asked, with a joker tone. “Looking for something in particular?”

And you laughed a little; you wanted to go on with that inside joke.

“Yes, sir.” you nodded. “I’m looking for some recommendation.”

“Do you have an specific preference?” he asked seductively, doing his best to sound like an actual librarian.

“I have some preferences, yes.” you affirmed, with a little smirk on your mouth, turning around to face him. “I like greedy demons.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow at your response while a smile was starting to make its presence in his face.

“Greedy demons, eh? Well, I happen to know a few who might fill that bill. They would be more than willing to satisfy your needs.” he answered.

“I don’t need a few, I just need one.” you said almost in a whisper.

He leaned forward, his voice lowering into a whisper too.

“One is all it takes, isn’t it? I can give you exactly what you need.” there was a teasing tone there. “What about appearance? Personality? Abilities, maybe?”

“Mhm…” you started. “I like them sarcastic and even hateful.” you leaned closer and your bodies where so close to each other that they were almost touching. “And I like them when they take the lead.”

Crowley closed the distance between you two in a second; he kissed you with hunger and desperation. The little teasing game was fun, yes. But this was better. His arms were wrapped around your waist and he let out a groan that made you shiver.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he whispered right in your mouth. “This is what you wanted the whole time.”

“Yes, I’ve been wanting to kiss your stupid mouth to make you shut up all this time.” you confessed, with your hands together in the back of his neck. “But you were busy hating me.”

Crowley chuckled lightly, with his snake eyes glowing with desire.

“You wanted to shut me up?” he asked, moving his hands to your hips and bringing you even closer to him. “You succeeded, so I wonder what else you might be capable of with this mouth of yours…”

Your eyes were also full of lust and desire, and you grabbed him by the arm and walked with him behind you.

“Your choice: the couch or the desk.”

“Oh, a woman who know what she wants.” he winked at you. “The couch or the desk? Why not both?” he asked, but he allowed you to lead him over to the desk, with his body moving even closer to yours. There is a chair by the desk, and Crowley sat there while you, instead of sitting in his lap, jumped a little to end up on top of the desk, as if you were on a stage and he was the only spectator. You smiled down at him and started to remove your shirt.

Crowley’s eyes seemed to become almost transfixed as you did, his expression was turning into something more primal and erotic. His breath quickened slightly while his eyes were studying every bit of you.

“My, my…” he whispered. “So you are performing for me?” the demon asked, and he reached out a hand to touch you and then pulled it back quickly, as if wanting to resist the temptation.

“You’ll really try to resist it, Crowley?” the way you said his name that time sent shivers down his spine. You took off your shoes, letting him now that you still had some clothing on.

Crowley let out a small moan at your words and movements, and his body was failing; becoming even more tense with his eyes never leaving you. He shook his head.

“I believe I am capable to resist it, yes.” he answered. “But are you really going to go through with this?”

You took that as a challenge.

“Try not to touch, then.” you ordered, moving your hands towards the zip of your trousers.

“And what happens if I fail?” he asked, his voice still alluring. “What kind of punishment do you have in mind?”

He seemed unable to keep his eyes off of you, your body was overpowering his better judgement.

“You seem tense, are you okay?” you played innocent, but that grin in your face was not a secret. Your trousers were almost in the floor, and your sight in your underwear was tempting a demon. A taste of his own medicine, maybe?

You could almost see the tension emanating from him, his eyes now locked in your legs.

“Am I okay?” he repeated. “Let’s just say I’m not sure what to do with myself right now.”

“Well…” you started, crossing your legs. “I told you not to touch me, but I never said anything about you doing it to yourself…”

Your words seemed to have a profound effect on him, and he shifted slightly in his seat again. As much as he tried to resist it, his body was betraying him.

“So, you’re saying I’m able to touch myself, but not you?” he wanted to make sure his ears weren’t failing.

You nodded, and his tongue darted out of his mouth, almost as if wanting to taste you. One of his hands travelled down his lower body, giving himself a little stroke over his trousers. You smiled, biting your lip. The sight was perfect; a demon, the demon, was pleasing himself while looking at you, as if you were a treasure.

“You are truly a master of manipulation…” he managed to say, while his hand was still giving himself some relief. He was starting to relax.

“I can’t help but feel like a one an only…” you teased, spreading your legs a little, still over the desk. “Seeing a hateful demon touching himself because of me…”

The way you talked about him as if he was a puppet seemed to turn him on even more, since his hand was now under his pants.

“Oh, fuck…” Crowley said to himself, closing his eyes hardly. “I want you to touch me instead…”

“You do?” you asked innocently, getting off the desk.

“Perhaps just the touch of the tips of your fingers, teasing me like you do…” he whispered, his hand moving slowly this time.

“You’ll have to ask nicely, then.” you ordered, proud.

“Please.” the demon asked, his eyes still closed and his hand moving up and down faster. “Can you touch me instead?”

“I’m pretty sure you can do better than that, Crowley.” you kept teasing him, playing with the sides of your underwear. “Weren’t you an angel long ago? Beg like an angel.”

He loved that little game of yours. For some reason, the way you were treating him had an effect on him. A good one. A desperate one.

“Come on!” he almost screamed when you hit that soft spot. “Please…” the way he pronounced this word made you walk towards him.

You looked down at him, using a hand you reach his chin and force him to look up at you. As he did, you used the tips of your fingers to trace his lips and he started to lose it. You wanted to go on with the teasing, so you turned around to leave him right there, hungry an unable to stop stroking himself.

You weren’t actually expecting it, but you were surprise when you felt his arms and hands grabbing you hardly, making you end up on the top of the desk again, but this time with him between your legs. He leaned in and whispered in your ear;

“Did you really think you could use me as your toy, sweetheart?” his eyes were glowing with lust and anger.

You felt a rush of nervousness noticing how he ended up in charge now.

“You looked like a wonderful, pathetic toy in that chair…” you told him, trying to kiss him. He refused.

“Pathetic, huh?” he repeated, while one of his hands were heading towards your inner thighs, where he started to trace circles near your entrance. “Now that you are the toy, I’m going to use you however I please.” without any warning, he slid a single finger inside you.

You closed your eyes, letting your body feel all those mixed emotions. His thumb was caressing your clit slowly and softly, while his mouth was playing with your neck. Your hands travelled to his back, where your nails where almost scratching it.

“Someone is eager, aren’t they?” he smiles at you, with his eyes glittering with amusement and desire. “Do you want me to use you, toy?”

Crowley was paying you with the same coin, sliding a second finger in. You groaned in pleasure and surprise.

“You really are in a vulnerable position now…” he pronounced your name after, making you shiver. “I could do anything I want to you… I could touch you, I could taste you…”

The moment the word “taste” was mentioned, you couldn’t help but let out a soft moan. And of course, he noticed.

“Do you want me to taste you, then?” he whispered, his voice shifting deep with eroticism. “Shall I taste your sweet, sweet flesh?”

You nodded.

“You want me to eat you out right here, on this desk?” Crowley asked again, and you were losing it with that much teasing. “What’s going to happen when you come to visit the bookshop and see this desk? Would you like to have those flashbacks?” he was talking right next to your ear, while his fingers were pleasing you with eager. “Will you picture me, fully clothed and eating you out as if you were a prey?”

You nodded again, since the words weren’t coming out of your mouth. Now you were the betrayed one; your whole body was playing against you. You could feel the climax building up in your lower abdomen when the pace of Crowley’s fingers increased.

But sadly for you; he stopped.

“You like being played, don’t you?” he spat, forcing you to lie down on the desk, leaning on you and kissing your body, going lower with every kiss, and getting your underwear out of the way. “Being on the edge, being teased and toyed with…” he spoke, before biting slightly the inside of your thighs.

You could feel his tongue pressing against your center, while his hands where holding you in place. You were biting your fist to avoid the moaning.

“Oh, no, no, no.” he denied, looking up at you. He licked his lips and you found it incredibly hard to resist. “Don’t cover your mouth.”

His tongue slid against you again, slowly and passionately. Crowley was like an animal, he was groaning, making you feel the vibrations all over your body. He went on like that for a few good minutes, biting, kissing and licking with desperation.

He crawled to you until his body was covering yours, and he kissed your lips hardly, letting you taste yourself in his mouth.

“I can’t wait any longer…” he confessed against your mouth, while adjusting his position and taking his lenght out, right in your entrance. He looked at your eyes for a glimpse of a second, making sure you wanted it.

And you wanted it.

When he finally started to take you, you could feel your head dizzy from so much pleasure.

“I’ve been wanting to fuck you since you walked through that door…” he managed to say, while his body was pushing even deeper into you.

Crowley’s entire being was focused on pleasing you, and he seemed to be enjoying immensely. His hands where touching your entire body, without forgetting any part of it.

He kissed you again, before pulling back from it and adjusting his position, holding you by your hips and rocking them back and forth. You opened your eyes just to find him laughing between moans and thursts. Using a thumb to rub your clit seemed like a fantastic idea, so he went on with it. But it was a lot from you.

“It’s too much, it’s too much…” you managed to say. “Don’t stop…”

“I’m so close…” he let you know, going faster than ever.

You felt your the presence of your climax right there, when you heard him sounding so human, so vulnerable. You clenched around him and that made Crowley reach his orgasm too.

“Oh f—“ he couldn’t even finish the sentence; a wave of pleasure bathe him entirely.

His body fell on top of yours, but he was careful enough not to put his entire weight on you. The palm of his hands ended up at the sides of your head, and he lean in to kiss you passionately. It was a messy and exhausted kiss, but still a hungry one.

“God…” you whispered, your foreheads touching.

“Don’t bring that old bastard to this…” he told you, giggling. “And I’m sorry to ruin the moment, because… fuck, I would totally repeat this thing again, again and again. But…” he said, getting off of you and standing up, fixing his clothes. “I can sense that Aziraphale is near.” he declared.

You stood up quickly, getting your clothes together and started to dress up quickly.

Crowley’s eyes were looking at you getting dressed, with a slight smirk on his face.

“If the angel wasn’t around the corner I would really like to bend you over that desk…” he started again, with his hands in his pockets. “Pull your hair, make you curse me…”

“You’re already wanting more, Crowley? We had a deal.” you said, putting your shoes on.

“I bet I can get you to crave it again.” he swore, taking a step closer to you. You were already clothed, and you turned around to face him, but before you could speak, the door opened.

“Crave what, Crowley?” the familiar voice of Aziraphale made its appearance. You cursed Crowley in your head for not letting you know how close the angel was.

“I don’t know, angel.” Crowley said, getting closer to his longtime friend. “I think your friend still hates me.”

You smiled nervously at Aziraphale.

“Do you still hate him, my friend?” the angel asked you, with both his hands together in front of him. His face was looking mischievous, which was something unusual of him. “It didn’t look like it…”

“Oh my god…” you murmured, directing a hand towards your mouth. “You saw us!”

“Saw what, love?” Crowley asked you now, but at the same time smiling at his friend with complicity. “We don’t know what you’re talking about.”

When Aziraphale grabbed Crowley in the dark alley, out of nowhere, Crowley was shocked to see him. He didn’t know Aziraphale appeared. He quickly figured out that he was long enough in Heaven for it to change his smell, no longer surrounded by everything he loved. No old books, no food, no cherry. Everything that smelt like home to Crowley. Aziraphale was home.

But no longer.

Aziraphale looked like he was panicking, ready to tell him something, hands holding Crowley’s arms tightly. But he froze and stared and Crowley felt like he was taking his face in. Like he missed him.

No

Don’t even go there, Crowley.

“Please listen to me.” Aziraphale finally choked out. “You need to hide. They’re coming for you. I’ve just found out!” He looked around worrying they were already here.

Crowley assumed he meant angels. Lovely.

“Where?” Hide where? In his car? He had no home. Aziraphale took it away when he left.

Aziraphale seemed to have an answer ready, but a thunderstorm made them cover their ears. They both looked to the right and saw Metatron with his Archangels behind.

“I’ve said he can’t be trusted.” Michael spit out.

Crowley hissed, ready to stand in front of Aziraphale. But the Angel stepped forward, clearly shielding him instead. Crowley looked at him surprised. What was he doing?

“You can just call this off and nothing has to happen.” Aziraphale said simply, but Crowley knew this was how a threat sounded from Aziraphale’s mouth.

“Move, Aziraphale, let us take the demon, and we will pretend you never came here to warn him.” Metatron said.

Crowley tensed. Aziraphale was not going to give up his title for him. And Crowley would struggle to fight so many archangels. He was fucked.

“No.” Aziraphale spit out.

“Aziraphale, I will remove your titles if you do not move this instant!”

Aziraphale cocked an eyebrow. “Are you?”

Before Crowley could laugh, he felt a hand reaching and grabbing his wrist and suddenly they were both gone.

This was the day he got introduced to the cottage. Aziraphale’s cottage. One he bought for them, apparently, and worked to make their embassy. So literally nobody could come in without both of their permission. Especially not demons and angels. Well, Crowley had to help with the angels part, but he didn’t need convincing.

As grand of a gesture this seemed, Crowley did not feel comfortable. They barely talked. He disappeared to whichever room Aziraphale wasn’t in to avoid them talking.

He knew that if he would start then he’d never stop and he’d be falling for Aziraphale all over again. And then Aziraphale would decide that actually the cottage was a mistake and give him to demons.

Heaven always won.

Crowley could not risk another knife to the heart.

One day they were sat together in the living room, only a quiet radio on, Crowley sprawled on the big armchair comfortably, Aziraphale on a sofa reading a book. Together for the first time. Not talking. Listening to the music and rain outside. As far away as possible from each other.

When nightingale came on the radio, Crowley felt the knife twisting in his heart again. He did not dare to switch the station or look at Aziraphale. He was planning to pretend he wasn’t hearing it.

He did not notice Aziraphale standing up and slowly moving towards him, Crowley too busy staring at a wall.

He looked up surprised when Aziraphale touched his arm.

“I was wrong,” he whispered.

Crowley felt himself tensing. He was going to give him to the angels. He knew. He knew it was going to happen.

“You were right,” Aziraphale added and Crowley noticed how tired and guilty his face looked. He’s never seen him this… sad. “Please dance with me?” Aziraphale extended his hand, eyes pleading for him to take it.

He was apologising?

Crowley kept on staring at him in shock but Aziraphale did not move, bravely standing still.

Crowley didn’t realise when he took his hand. But he was suddenly standing and their hands were together, and they continued their dance from the ball, but slower… and not interrupted.

In silence, but for nightingales on the radio.

Crowley didn’t expect Aziraphale to come closer, warm cheek to his cold one, and whisper in his ear.

“I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”

Crowley did not know what to do. This was what Aziraphale did. Forgave Crowley. Forgave him for who he was. Like a stab in the heart each time he didn’t agree with the Angel. And this time Aziraphale was handing him the knife. Asking him to do the same to him.

Crowley looked at him wanting to say no. No matter what Aziraphale did to him, he’d never do the same to him. Not when he knew how much it hurt.

But Aziraphale had a pleading look on his face. The determination that Crowley knew so well. Knowing nothing else would be enough. And Crowley realised that the Angel would not feel the twist of a knife but a relief.

“I forgive you.” Crowley said quietly and it felt new and weird on his tongue. He wasn’t sure if he meant it. He said it because Aziraphale wanted to hear it. He gave him what he wanted. Like always.

He expected Aziraphale to smile brightly and move on. But he kept on looking at him searching for something in his face. Not eyes, these were always covered now.

“One day,” Aziraphale whispered. “You will feel it. Because I will do everything to prove to you that I deserve your forgiveness. And your love. If there is even the tiniest space for it in your heart still. I promise. I love you, Crowley.”

So how about a one shot where Aziraphale realises he has hots for Crowley getting his hands dirty?

😈😈😈😈

Aziraphale decided that he really should have fallen a very long time ago.

He never out loud admitted that he was putting himself in danger to get Crowley to save him - or in other words - to see him. It would probably be seen as pathetic or blasphemous considering he was pretending to be a poor Angel in need of saving by a Demon. But Crowley always showed up and never judged him and Aziraphale wondered if he knew.

He probably did. Crowley was a cheeky bastard but for some reason never tried to tease him about this, so Aziraphale decided he went along with it because he liked saving him. Or he liked him.

Hey, it worked for every heroine in the book. That’s where he got the idea from in the first place. They were always saved by the handsome bad boy that was only soft for them. Aziraphale decided to test out the little fantasy - and it worked. He liked the feeling of being rescued, he always struggled to pretend that he doesn’t really need the help, because his face was probably beaming from happiness. It wasn’t just the rescuing, it was seeing the demon and knowing he might be able to spend a few hours in his company.

But those days were long over. Now he and that demon had their own cottage and there was nothing to be rescued from… apart from a neighbour who tried to stick her nose in their business and Crowley found it funny until she said a mean thing to Aziraphale and he snapped at her in a way that ensured she never bothered them again.

Aziraphale was content and happy. They really finally had their peace. And he had Crowley all for himself.

Things were so peaceful in fact that he forgot that Crowley was a tempting creature. Aziraphale was used to him, he knew his flirt, he knew the seduction. He was lucky to have all of this in his normal everyday life.

But what was infuriating was that Crowley didn’t know of all the ways he was seductive when he wasn’t trying.

Or perhaps Aziraphale really should have fallen because he had a goddamn dirty mind.

Six thousand years! This is how long he knew the demon for, but only when they got the cottage he found out that Crowley was very much into sorting things out himself. He worked on the Bentley. He fixed the boiler. He fixed their appliances. He was so good at figuring things out.

And Aziraphale should had been a good partner who appreciated having such a hands on partner. Instead he felt himself swallowing hard seeing him working without a T-shirt on, sweat and dirt smudged across the uncovered body, as he twisted his slim hips to get behind the old boiler which played up again.

Or… it might have been… Aziraphale who broke it.

Why was he finding it so hot?! It was Crowley! He was hot and sexy and Aziraphale could have him whenever he wanted since that demon was last to say no, cheeky grin on his face majority of the time. They had a lot of years to catch up on, that was their excuse.

Yet somehow that bloody snake was not catching up that Aziraphale was breaking things on purpose to see him twisting, half naked and dirty.

Not even when he convinced Bentley to suddenly start losing oil because good lord Crowley covered in black smudges.

“You know what?” Crowley spoke up, one hand on the boiler, hot, sweaty and dirty. “I think we need to call someone over. I am clearly doing something wrong if it keeps on breaking. We can’t live here like this, it gets so hot. I’m sweating! I’ve never sweat in my life!”

“What?” Aziraphale’s voice was way too high. “Don’t be ridiculous, you’re perfect.”

Crowley would have given him a surprised look normally, but he was too busy wondering what was wrong with the boiler.

Aziraphale wondered if his miracle was a bit too good this time. They were really getting too easy for him to do at this stage.

God, help me.

God was probably laughing her ass off at him.

“It’s not that hot.” Aziraphale waved his hand dismissively.

“Angel. We are melting.” Crowley looked at him surprised, finally.

His hair was stuck to his forehead.

God, forgive me, for I am going to sin so badly, Aziraphale breathed.

God was definitely laughing now.

“What’s up?” Crowley was suddenly right in front of his face. Aziraphale groaned. “You’re being really weird.”

Get the hint you bloody demon.

“I am not weird!” Aziraphale scoffed, trying to be offended but his hands were touching Crowley’s chest, so that didn’t work out.

“You’re going to get your hands dirty, Angel.” Crowley said, still not getting the hint.

“I don’t mind.”

Crowley looked confused for a moment, but he finally did get the hint -when Aziraphale’s hands reached his belt and pulled him closer.

“Angel.” Crowley’s face turned into that smug smirk that Aziraphale loved but would never admit it. “Are you trying to tell me you like me like this?”

“Only for the past three months, dear.” He unlocked his belt and threw it to the floor.

Crowley laughed delighted. “You’re the one who keeps on breaking everything.”

“Possibly.”

“Aziraphale.”

“Just take your pants off, Crowley.”

He wasn’t planning to worship God tonight.