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buryustogether · 8 months

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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.”

#good omens #good omens smut #good omens aziraphale #good omens x reader #good omens crowley #good omens fanfiction #good omens x you #aziraphale x reader #crowley x reader #aziraphale x crowley #aziraphale x you #crowley x you #aziraphale #crowley #crowley smut #Aziraphale smut

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thebookshopofnightingales · 4 months

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in the backseat of his car

Aziraphale x reader (x Crowley at the end)

summary: a quick trip to Scotland to retrieve a book quickly turns into something a little less innocent...

cw: 18+ only!! smut asf, dirty talk, the Bentley being used for unholy reasons, thigh riding, reader pronouns not specified but 'good girl' is used, very slight hair pulling, switch!Aziraphale and switch!reader, dom!Crowley, handjobs, hickeys/bruises

word count: 1.1k

A/N: my first fic! (on this account, anyway) and we're straight into the smut hehe. I may or may not have started a part 2 so let me know if you wanna read that too. happy reading😈

You and that sweet-talking Angel of yours have somehow managed to convince Crowley to let you borrow his beloved Bentley to the Scottish highlands. Aziraphale caught wind of a particular first-edition that he just had to get his wings on. He was practically begging Crowley to take his car, and you have never been to Scotland so hoped to accompany him. Needless to say, after some heavy praise and the two of you worshipping him in bed, he reluctantly agreed.

You admire the hilly landscape on your left, and the angelic being on your right.

“Darling, you’re staring again.” His eyes don’t leave the road as he speaks. Such a soft voice, you think. But only you know just how filthy his mouth can get.

“I can’t help it,” you coo, “you look so good driving Crowley’s car.” You bite your lip, of which Aziraphale catches a glimpse of. You know the smallest gestures that get him shifting in his seat. You smirk to yourself. Slowly, your hand caresses his gorgeous thigh, moving ever so slightly higher and higher, until-

“Oh-” Aziraphale releases a heavy breath once you reach his crotch, palming him over his trousers as you feel him beginning to harden under your touch.

“My sweet Angel is already getting hard for me.” You purr into his ear. He whimpers, and writhes in his confinements, groaning at the friction.

When he has become completely hard, you lick your lips and remove your hand. He audibly whines at the loss of your touch.

“God, what are you doing to me?” You’re not sure if he said ‘God’ because he hears you say it so much, or because he’s actually asking, but there are times when Aziraphale becomes so worked up that a blasphemy or two will escape his sweet lips. And you’re not complaining.

You leave Aziraphale high and dry for the rest of the ride, eager fantasising about what’ll happen once you arrive, every so often sneaking peeks at his full blown erection from within his trousers and the way he has a light shine of sweat over his beautiful face. You squeeze your thighs together in anticipation.

You shift over to the driver’s seat while Aziraphale is retrieving his book, watching him through the window with your bottom lip between your teeth, ready to pull off as soon as he sits down. With so much energy and excitement pulsing from your head down to your core, you need him here and now.

Except it can’t be here.

“My dear, why are you sitting in the driver’s seat?” Aziraphale asks through the window. “You know I’m a much safer driver. You drive like Crowley.”

“Oh, my angel, you’ll be fine. Now get in the damned car.” You reply with a knowing smirk.

You whiz through the roads, barely sparing a couple of oblivious pedestrians. Aziraphale hides behind his book.

Finally, you find a secluded parking area overlooking a beautiful Scottish view just as the sun has set. As the sky is growing darker, so are your eyes.

“Get in the back seat.” You order Aziraphale. He can’t help the twitch of his cock at your tone and does as you say. As you climb over to straddle his lap, he moves your hips so you're just straddling just one of his thighs. Your eyes widen with lust and you let out a small moan just at the idea of what’s about to happen. He leans his lips to your ear as he pulls your hair back slightly.

“I’m in charge now, my dear.” He whispers, before moving to kiss and nibble at your neck.

“Fuck, yes Angel.” You moan breathlessly as your head falls back. With a snap of his fingers, you are suddenly left in just your underwear. He grips onto your hips and begins guiding your heat over his thigh. The friction is delicious and you begin to grind harder against him, moaning at the sensation. Aziraphale lets out a groan at the sight of you like this, beginning to leave your wetness on his trousers. You can see the tent beginning to form, so you run your fingers over his clothed crotch and let them slide beneath the waistband. This time Aziraphale lets his head fall against the back seat and you descend your lips to his neck, sucking just under his ear enough to leave a mark. You kiss the bruise you’ve left and hum at the sinful sight of a hickey on your Angel. His grip gets tighter on your hips, surely leaving bruises of his own.

You begin stroking his length faster as you begin to reach your climax. He tenses his thigh more to intensify your pleasure. It’s all breathy moans and each other's names on your tongues.

He pulls your hand from his cock and leans it on his shoulder. He’s always enjoyed being able to truly bask in your pleasure with no distractions.

“Fuck, Aziraphale, this feels so good, I’m so close.” You’re breathless and moaning as you grind harder and faster. Aziraphale, one hand still on your hip, takes the other to lightly brush your hair behind your ear.

“Come for me, my dear. Fuck, that’s it. Good girl.”

His dirty words send you over the edge and have you coming undone hard on his thigh.

“Aziraphale, Angel, fuck!” You almost scream it feels that heavenly. You ride out your orgasm with your mouth wide and face contorted by pleasure. You collapse against his chest, lazily reaching back down for his still aching cock. He groans and deeply chuckles, and you can feel the resonance from his chest.

“I like when you let sin fall from your lips, Angel.” You purr, using your thumb to lightly tug on his lower lip. There’s so much lust in his eyes that you would never be able to tell that he’s one of Heaven’s ones.

“It’s because you tempt it out of me.” You feign shock at his remark. “Oh, come on, darling, you can’t pretend that you don’t have a little of the Devil in you.”

You bite your lip. “And you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

A crackle of the radio interrupts the moment. Except you’re not expecting Crowley’s voice.

“Well, aren’t you two a salacious pair? Remember, I can feel everything that happens to and in this car. So imagine my surprise when I’m locking up your bookshop and suddenly I’m hard as a rock.” His words surprise you and your hand comes to your mouth, failing to hide your grin of excitement from your Demon’s words.

“Oh. Oh dear.” Aziraphale musters.

“Oh dear indeed, Angel.” You can hear Crowley’s gritted teeth through the speaker of the car and you chuckle with your lip between your teeth. “And don’t think I can’t tell that your hand is still wrapped around Aziraphale’s cock, my love.”

“Crowley, don’t be so- oh, Heavens.” Aziraphale moans as you suddenly tighten your grip and work your hand faster.

Oh, this is going to be fun.

#good omens #aziracrow #aziraphale #crowley #aziraphale x reader #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x reader #good omens smut #aziracrow x reader #aziraphale smut #good omens fanfiction #aziracrow smut #crowley's bentley #ineffible husbands

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shinybearnerd · 9 months

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"Celestial Ties" - bonus

Part 1.

Part 2.

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

Here's the story bonus. Maybe later I'll update it to be longer and with some angst. Idk. For the moment, tho, enjoy. >:)

Pair: Aziraphale x Gn!reader Words: Genre: Smut +18, some fluff? Story: Some spicy time in the bookshop. ;)

-Engish is not my first language. So I'm sorry if there are any mistakes-

Aziraphale's heart swelled with love as he leaned in, their lips meeting. It was a kiss filled with years of longing, of pent-up emotions finally being released. Their lips moved together in perfect harmony, a dance of love and desire reigniting the flame that had never truly died. As they pulled away, breathless and shaken, Aziraphale cupped Y/n's face tenderly, his thumb wiping away their tears. They looked at each other, connecting their lips immediately after. Deepening it by the second.

Their lips collided in a fervent, desperate kiss. As if trying to make up for all the lost time and missed opportunities. The years of longing and heartache melted away in that moment, replaced by the intensity of their love and desire for each other.

Aziraphale's heart raced, and he felt himself floating on a cloud of euphoria. Y/n's hands found their way to Aziraphale's hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss even further.

Their bodies pressed against each other, feeling the warmth and familiarity of each other's presence. In that passionate embrace, Aziraphale and Y/n rediscovered each other, exploring each other's lips and savouring the taste that was uniquely their own.

The years apart seemed to vanish as they became lost in each other, their souls rekindling the connection that had never truly faded.

<< We should stop.>> said the angel. They were both catching their breaths while looking at each other. <<Yes… Arden could see us. >>

The angel was right. The human knew that. But after all these years without him…

Y/n leaned in again, softly kissing the angels while untying his bow tie while sitting on his lap. << Exactly. W-We should stop, shouldn't we?>> <<I mean, we are only kissing… at the moment >> They undid the first button of his shirt, starting to kiss and nib his neck. << G-Good heavens, darling…>> the angel moaned softly. Trying so hard to be heard. <<We should- >>

Y/n stopped kissing him to look at his eyes again. They only lasted a few seconds before Aziraphale took their head to resume the kiss. << I mean, sooner or later, he'll know how babies are made…>> Y/n smiled, throwing away their jam on the nearest chair. <<It's not like we didn't do something like this before… >> replied, biting his neck. Aziraphale blushed and chuckled at the memory. << They were my customers, my darling. Here we're talking about scarring our kid for life. <<Y/n, we really should stop. I can't bear the thought of our son witnessing something like this… >>

Y/n's lips brushed against his ear, sending shivers down his spine. << I understand.>> they whispered, their warm breath against his skin sending waves of pleasure through him. <<I'm worried too. I am! …But just this once, let's forget about everything else and be together. <<He's with Crowley, remember? >>

Aziraphale hesitated for a moment. His heart torn between his desires and his responsibilities. But as Y/n's lips found his once more, all rational thoughts were pushed aside, and he surrendered to the magnetic pull of their love.

Their kisses grew more fervent, their bodies moving in perfect harmony. Aziraphale's hands roamed Y/n's body, tracing the curves and contours that had haunted his dreams for years. His touch was both gentle and possessive, conveying his love and longing. Y/n's body responded eagerly, arching into his touch, craving more.

The atmosphere in the room was charged with both desire and nervous laughter. Their connection was undeniable, and the pull between them was magnetic.

As Y/n straddled his lap, their lips found each other again in a searing kiss, their bodies pressed together. Their hands exploring each other with a mix of familiarity and newfound longing.

The room started to be filled with the sound of their shared breaths, the soft murmur of affectionate whispers, and the undeniable passion that had drawn them back together.

Y/n's fingers gently tugged at Aziraphale's bow tie, untying it with practised ease, and then moved to the buttons of his shirt. Their touch was electrifying, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in their wake. Aziraphale's breath hitched, and he found himself losing control. Intoxicating desire pulsed through his veins.

Their kisses deepened, becoming more hungry as if trying to make up for all.

The heat between them intensified. Their bodies pressed together in a tangle of limbs and passion. Their breathing grew heavy and erratic, a symphony of desire mingling in the air. Aziraphale's fingers trailed along Y/n's spine, eliciting shivers of pleasure, while their hands roamed over his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart.

Unable to contain himself any longer, Aziraphale guided Y/n to his desk. Gently laid them down while their lips never parted.

Slowly they unzipped each other pants and partially freed their torso, leaving kissing and bite sign along the way.

<<You ready?>> said Aziraphale. His voice sounding like a rumble.

Y/n looked at the angel. The way his (now) messy hair was shining against the bookshop light or stuck against his forehead. The way his lips were puffy and red for the kiss. Or how his eyes were looking at them with such love and desire. Not to mention his husky and caring voice… To them, all about this situation was so hot and romantic. So yes. They were definitely ready.

Their bodies melded together, fitting perfectly like two pieces of a puzzle. The human could hear Aziraphale murmur something like <<My stars, you're so tight… You feel so good, my love. >>

Their senses were magnified. Every touch sent shockwaves of pleasure through their bodies. The angel's hands explored Y/n's skin while their nails gently grazed his back, leaving a mark of their desire.

The room was filled with the symphony of their muffled moans and whispers, mingling with the sounds of their passionate embrace. Their bodies moved in perfect synchrony, their desires intertwining with the other.

<< I-I can't believe... you persuaded me to do something like this. Oh my...>> he panted, continuing with a gentle yet hard and steady pace. Y/n squeezed one of Aziraphale's shoulders as their other hand tried to cover up the pornographic sound escaping.

The angel knew that he should have said something about decreasing their volume. Or at least slow down. But their moans and huffs made him turn on even more. He picked one of their legs up and put it on his shoulder, slightly increasing his pace as he kissed them. Trying to cover up their moans.

<<You'll be the death of me...! >> panted between kisses. << You're the one... f-fucking me on a desk with our son in the next room. Fuck Zira... like that!>> They covered their mouth again as the angel pushes started to get harder and quickly. He always loved when they called him like that. Especially in times that this. <<And whose fault it is?… Fuck. >>

And that was the final straw for Y/n. Hearing Aziraphale cursing was the hottest thing that could happen during sex.

They immediately took his head and smashed their lips together. The angel moaned against the kiss, making Y/n do the same.

Soon after, they came both as close to each other as possible. Their breaths mixed together while their forehead touched.

Aziraphale parted a bit. Just to be able to look at their eyes. And, as he was fixing their hair away from their eyesight, he whispered: << I missed you so much… You have no idea…>>

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