doctorcrowleywho
Child of Chaos
Miles Campbell | He/They| Demons and Doctors | Crowley kinnie | Trying their best
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Important rules/tips I've learned as an adult that helped with anxiety
If people are mad at you, it's their responsibility to tell you, not your responsibility to guess
If they're mad at you in secret anyways, they're the ones in the wrong, not you
If people don't like what you're doing, it's their responsibility to tell you
If they say it's fine when it's really not, they're the ones in the wrong, not you
People are allowed to be wrong about you
If they are wrong about you, wait for them to bring it up, because if you try to, you will inevitably overcorrect
Some people are committed to misunderstanding you. You will not win arguments against them. Yes, even if you explain your point of view. They do not care. Drop it
The worst thing that will happen from a first-time offense is being told not to do it again. Maybe with a replacement if you broke something
You can improve relationships and gauge willingness to talk to you by giving compliments. It's like a daily log-in bonus and nobody thinks twice about it
Most things are better after you sleep on them
Most things are better after you have a meal
Most things are better after you shower
Your brain makes up consequences that are irrational. If the worst DOES come to pass and someone acts like they do in your head, they are overreacting, and you are entitled to say "what the fuck"
If your chest hurts after you feel like you've made a social error, that's called rejection-sensitive dysphoria. It means your anxiety is so bad that it's causing you physical pain, which is a good indicator that you're overreacting. Tense yourself, hold it for 20 seconds, let it go, then find a distraction
If you're suddenly angry at someone after you feel like you made a social error, that's also rejection-sensitive dysphoria. You are going to feel annoyed about it for awhile, but being genuinely pissed off is your anxiety trying to find something to blame to take the responsibility off your shoulders, and getting scared because it can't justify itself. Deep breaths, ask yourself how much you ACTUALLY want to be angry at that person, then find a distraction
"Sour grapes" is more healthy for you than stewing. Deciding you don't like someone who's perpetually annoyed with you, won't talk to you, etc. makes letting go of anxiety over them easier
If people don't like you, they will find reasons to be annoyed with you when they otherwise wouldn't. If people do like you, they will find reasons NOT to be annoyed with you when they otherwise would. People do not ping-pong between the two
You DO have to make a conscious choice not to think about something. If you're having trouble circling back to it, say out loud that you're done thinking about it and why. Then find a distraction
When you're upset, part of you is going to want to make false bids for attention (suddenly texting differently, heavy sighs, etc. but when someone asks you about it, you tell them it's nothing). Do not listen to it. You gain nothing from it except more misery
People like to help people they care about. It makes them feel good about themselves
If you think you're insufferable for needing help, see above. Yes, really. They get a serotonin kick from it
If you think you're insufferable for mannerisms you have, you either have to consciously choose not to do them, or accept that they're part of the package that comes with you. Being apologetic about existing does nothing except make you more miserable
If you do things you don't like when you feel meh about it, it makes it easier to do them when you hate it
If you avoid things you don't like when you feel meh about it, it reinforces and magnifies how bad it feels when you hate it
Seriously. Read those last two points again. If you can make yourself make a phone call when you've got nothing to lose, you will slowly lose that panic you get when you have to make a phone call you haven't prepared for. You do have to CONSCIOUSLY take that step
Hobbies that make you care for something get rid of that nagging feeling that you're not doing enough. Go grow some rosemary
If you don't engage with your hobbies regularly, you will feel miserable, and anxiety will spike
Hobbies are things that give you a bit of happiness. They do not have to be organized or named to do that. Go be creative in something. Play with coins. Make up lists. Start a new WIP
No one cares what you look like
If people point out things they don't like about how you look unprompted, they are being rude. You are entitled to say "what the fuck"
People who like you will find you pretty to some degree. Minor things about your appearance go completely unnoticed. Literally, scars and dots and blemishes do not register to someone who likes your company
You looking at yourself in the mirror is 10x more closely than anyone is going to look at you
If you're anxious about your body type, and you're creatively inclined, make/write an oc with that same shape. Give them nice things and make other characters love them. Put them on adventures. You'll start to see yourself in the mirror more kindly
You care about wording and perfect lines/colors way more than anyone who views your work ever will
Sometimes when you're upset, you're going to feel like not eating. Do not do that. Not eating makes you more miserable
Same with things you normally enjoy. Denying yourself helps no one. You are punishing yourself for being sad. Stop it
Both of these will take conscious decision to break the habit of. Make yourself do it anyways, and it will slowly get easier
And again, to reiterate: If someone is mad at you, it is THEIR responsibility to tell you, not your responsibility to guess
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012624 | Good Omens
———
Good Omens : RE comic series | Out now on patreon
Livestreams on twitch @ almalvo.
Join the official almalvo discord server.
Please consider pledging to my Patreon or donating to my Ko-fi for my relief-effort (full info pinned to my tumblr).
Thank you.
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YEP I AM
Completely totally
*Not*
Normal about her
RENEÉ RAPP
Not My Fault (Official Music Video)
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Yall- shes got me smiling, giggling, and kicking my feet
HAPPY BIRTHDAY RENEÉ RAPP
— born January 10, 2000
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GUYS OMG ITS BEAN BAG AND BEAN POLE
Good Omens fans be like: omg is Crowley and Aziraphale!
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fourteen: broody and threatening demeanour, old timer, has fought many battles, stern and tired
fifteen: 😏😁🤩💪
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Y/N: *sneaking in at 3am*
Aziraphale: *dramatically turning around in a swivel chair* Care to tell me where you were?
Y/N: I was with-uh- I was with Crowley!
Crowley: *also dramatically turns around in a swivel chair, but pushed too hard* Care to try aga- *keeps spinning* Angel?! Angel- I can’t stop the chair-
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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.”
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They’re literally my found parents in another universe so this meant a lot🥹
Imagine. . .
You're falling asleep in Aziraphale's bookshop, feeling warm and safe and spread out over a sofa. There's rain gently tapping against the windows, and it's dark outside. The warm glow of the shop's lighting and the smell of old books surround you as you doze off. Aziraphale has a record softly playing in the background as he's lightly stirring his cup of tea while humming to himself. You know he's sitting at his desk even with your eyes closed because you have the layout of the shop already mapped out in your head. You're nearly in dreamland when you feel a blanket being placed gingerly over you, up to your chin, a slender finger accidentally brushes your cheek while tucking you in. Definitely Crowley.
"Have a dream," he mumbles, mostly to himself, because he can't afford to say 'nice' or 'pleasant'.
You're not sure if you imagine it, but you could've sworn you felt a hand gently brushing a hair out of your face before you completely fall asleep, Aziraphale's humming one of the last things you remember before your consciousness slips.
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Shes who i want to be🥹
crowley's looks appreciation → 6/?
↳ the flood outfit
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Day 1: Firsts (Crowley x Aziraphale) NSFW
24 Days of Kinkmas - Day 1
Firsts (Crowley x Aziraphale)
Word count - 2309
Warnings -NSFW 18+ THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING SOMETHING NSFW PLEASE BE KIND!!
Pairing(s) - Crowley x Aziraphale
Summary - The snake of Eden and the angel of the Eastern Gate experience a couple of firsts together
“It was a nice day. All the days had been nice. There had been rather more than seven of them, and rain hadn't been invented yet,” - Good Omens
The thing with firsts is that they do have to start somewhere, and today was the perfect day for firsts. They just didn’t know that yet. But, that’s what you get with Her.. ineffability at its finest. Why would you want to question things when they’ve been centuries in the making already? Nothing needed to be changed or questioned because you knew She was creating something perfect. You were created in Her image anyway, so why worry? Just do your job and everything will turn out fine.
That is exactly what Aziraphale loved about it all. He knew that he was a part of something utterly fantastic—something as grand as that made his chest swell with pride whenever he thought about it. Nothing was ever going to shake his devotion to Her, that must have been the reason why She assigned him to guard the Eastern gate. Watching over Earth’s first humans was not a job to be taken lightly.
So, why did he give his sword away? Especially when sin was involved? Sin was the most terrible thing someone could do. It’s what caused the great disturbance in heaven. Sin was the reason Lucifer fell and brought down….the others. When you sinned you were greeted with the most terrible punishment imaginable. You were kicked out of heaven without any second chances, thrown away like you were meant nothing. It was something that made the angel’s stomach turn in awful circles. To be kicked out of heaven…well he wouldn’t wish that on anybody.
Why did he help them? More importantly, why was the handsome stra-terrible demon still there? Right by his side acting as if they weren’t supposed to be hereditary enemies. Whatever reason he truly had for being by his side he’d never know, but deep down he wished the demon would stay forever.
The demon with flaming red hair that cascaded over his shoulders in delicate ripples. With skin that looked delicate and soft as rose petals just begging to be touched and admired for all of its beauty. With lips as pink as a peony drawing him closer with every word, every subtle smile. With those stunningly beautiful golden eyes. That in his humble opinion, makes every sunrise and sunset quiver in jealousy.
There they stood in silence, as time passed ever so slowly. Watching as the rain trickled from the sky in utter awe. ‘What a wonderful first to have’ Aziraphale thought to himself as he gazed up at the sky.
“Has She thought of a name for this yet?” Crawley wondered aloud peering hesitantly out from Aziraphale's wing.
The sudden sound of his voice made the angel jump ever so slightly, snapping out of whatever daydream he was having. “Hm? Oh? Rain is what She calls it! I’m never allowed in any of the meetings though, so don’t take my word for it.” he averted his gaze to the ground. Suddenly very aware of how much he didn’t know and of how much he wanted to impress Crawley.
“I’d take your word over any angel any day,” Crawley said without even hesitating which made Aziraphale's heart skip a couple extra beats. How could someone like Crawley trust him? They barely just met and for all he knew he could be lying or setting up an elaborate plan to kill him. If only he hadn’t given his flaming sword away, but even so deep down Aziraphale knew he had no cruel intentions towards this demon. Even if he didn’t exactly know why.
Slowly but surely the rain began to trickle away until the sun peaked out from the clouds and warmed up Her green earth once again. With a small breath, he took his wing down from over Crawley's head. To which Crawley gave an appreciative nod that made Aziraphale blush ever so slightly.
“Well since the humans are going to be a bit preoccupied for a while,” Crawley headed for the stone steps heading down from the great wall back towards the garden “, want to take one last walk?”
Aziraphale knew exactly what Crawley was referring to. Before the whole apple business, Aziraphle would often take strolls throughout the garden. The beauty of Her garden was too great not to be admired, plus he doubted She minded all that much if he wandered away from his post every now and again. He did it to admire beauty, well a certain beauty.
Every time he’d go on one of his walks he’d make sure to stop by a certain red-bellied snake. The snake was one of if not one of Her most beautiful creations. He never thought the snake was admiring him back, but today was full of surprises.
“An angel walking with a demon? Certainly not! What would they say if they knew!” He glanced quickly up toward the sky and then ever so slightly towards the ground. Practically getting a shiver from the mere thought of what hell could possibly do to Crawley.
To the angel's surprise, Crawley simply shrugged with the easiest expression on his face. “No one ever has to know, I’m a great secret keeper. Come on for old time's sake.” The demon tempted holding out his hand to help his angel down the stairway from heaven.
Biting his lip Aziraphale decided to do something not even She completely expected, he took the demon's hand. With a deep breath, he let Crawley lead him down the stairs and into the garden of temptation.
Once his feet hit the grassy ground warmth flooded his entire body and he felt himself relax. A gentle smile rose to his lips as he closed his eyes for a moment and let the beauty of the garden wash over him once more.
“Angel?”
“Yes?”
“You’re still holding my hand-”
“I know-”
“Ngk, alright” Crawley felt his cheeks turn as bright as his hair as he simply stared wide-eyed at their hands.
Gazing at the angel from afar was one thing, but being able to touch him- was something purely ineffable. The mere fact that their skin was touching filled his head with many sinful thoughts. The more he stared and felt, the more his imagination began to wander. The same imagination that got him in trouble in the first place, but who was he to stop it anymore? Especially if it was going to lead him to something so divine.
Aziraphale could feel it too, that’s why he didn’t shoo Crawley away, nor would he ever dream of it. The electricity sparked by just the curiosity alone was undeniable. It was something that neither the angel nor even the demon knew exactly what to do with,
With a gentle tug, Crawley guided him deeper into the garden, and Aziraphale didn’t question it. Why would he when his head is full of thoughts he didn’t quite understand? He knew following this demon into a place where heaven was constantly watching was an absolutely terrible idea, but there was a different part of him. A part that no longer wanted to listen to reason. A part that felt like a small invisible piece of string was being subtly tied between the two.
“Ah here we are, and no ‘don’t touch’ sign! So maybe this wasn’t all my fault.” the demon teased throwing a playful smirk in the angel’s direction.
“Oh, you did plenty serpent.” the angel rolled his eyes as he chuckled to himself.
Gently Crawley grabbed an apple and took one bite out of it. He let out a deep sigh that almost turned into a moan if he wasn’t careful. At this, Aziraphale felt a new kind of heat wash over him. One he didn’t know was even possible. He took a few careful breaths trying his best to control it. Worried about what kind of power it would have if he let it get out of hand.
But, as he watched Crawley wipe the juices that rolled down his chin with the back of his hand he started to forget all about what control was. The demon extended the apple out to the angel as he raised his eyebrow. A comfortable silence hung in the air as Aziraphale gazed at the apple before letting blue meet gold.
“Just one bite?” the words felt foreign in Aziraphale’s mouth. As if he wasn’t the one saying them. Perhaps that’s why he said them so quietly.
“Just one angel…unless you want more.” lifting the apple closer to his lips Crawley was suddenly very aware of how close they’d become. So, close and yet not close enough.
What happened next was a shock to both of them, but especially Crawley who just expected him to take the apple from his hands. Aziraphale leaned forward ever so slightly before taking a bite out of the apple. A gentle moan escaped his throat as he closed his eyes enjoying the flavor. He didn’t even realize the juice of the apple spilling from his mouth as Crawley kissed him, straight on the lips with no warning.
It was a short one, the kind of first kiss that you would soon read about in many many books to come. The kind of kiss that left both of them panting as Crawley pulled back for air, but not daring to move from his spot. Especially not when his view was so beautiful.
Quickly without thinking, Aziraphale pulled him in for another kiss….and then another….and another. Until they both ended up underneath the tree in the first heavy make-out session in history. Aziraphale had his tongue in Crawleys as he explored it for all it had to offer.
Aziraphale had a deep desire if that's what you want to call it, to explore every inch of this magnificent creature in front of him. To him every one of Her creatures should be loved and admired, so why should Crawley be excluded from that?
Hands began to wander, and the line between right and wrong began to rapidly fade. But, neither of them seemed to mind. For that moment nothing else mattered but eachother. New and beautiful feelings began to explode inside of them both. It was as if a brand new world was being opened right in front of them.
Crawley couldn’t help himself anymore, the temptation of the angel right in front of him had overtaken any other precaution he had set up. It was all over for him the moment it started to rain anyway. So, with every last bit of courage the snake from the garden had left, he let his fingers explore under the angel's robe.
Wide innocent eyes met Aziraphale's gaze as he found his clit in a very sloppy fashion. A sharp gasp tumbled out of Aziraphale’s lips as he looked at Crawley. He immediately stopped and pulled his hand back so worried he did something wrong. Or worse, hurt his angel. Something in his mind he’d never forgive himself for.
Slowly, Aziraphale reached out for Crawley’s hand and placed it back on his needy cunt, dripping with wetness that he didn’t even know was possible. “I-is this okay angel?” he asked as he began to slowly rub once again.
The angel quickly nodded as he threw his head back not being able to keep that quiet. This was a brand-new feeling. One of the angels in heaven never told him anything about it. Perhaps he should be proud that he was the first one to experience this before anyone else. It was a deep flame of desire that burned intensely inside of him the more Crawley rubbed.
There was something so beautifully intimate about what was happening right then and there. As if this moment was going to be the start of something absolutely wonderful. Something that neither of them could stop even if they wanted to.
Aziraphale opened his eyes as the flames of lust grew stronger and blazed faster. Sparks began to spread throughout his entire body, even down to his toes if you can believe it. Crawley was extremely talented at this, he tried his best to remember to ask him later how he knew how to do this. But, Crawley already looked like he knew how to do everything effortlessly. That or he was just extremely good at faking it till he made it.
Long nimble fingers worked their way inside the angel as Crawley began to fuck him from the inside. That was a brand new feeling too- Crawley was able to hit spots that Aziraphale hadn’t even known were there. Spots that he now had committed to memory.
Pretty soon Aziraphale was singing songs he did not yet recognize. He felt himself edging closer and closer as Crawley placed his thumb on Aziraphales clit causing his hips to jump up. He could feel it inching terribly closer. A grand crescendo that needed to be released at the end of this beautiful symphony.
His mouth fell open as he let out several deep-throated moans and groans as he reached his climax. The angel's body began to tremble and become putty in the demon's hands, and Crawley was obsessed with every second of it. Utterly infatuated with the angel's beauty, Crawley decided that he’d do anything to make sure his angel felt that good every second of every day.
Crawley slowly took his fingers out of Aziraphale’s still pulsing cunt as he brought his fingers to Aziraphale’s mouth to suck. Like a good little angel he did just that, but Crawley was sure that wouldn’t awaken anything in him later. After the angel had sucked his fingers clean Crawley wiped them off.
“Well that was-”
“I know-”
Today was the perfect day for firsts.
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