A short, spicy start to your day!
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Latest posts tagged with #goadcc on Bluesky
A short, spicy start to your day!
#goodomens #fanfiction #goodomensfanfiction #goodomensfanfic #ineffablehusbands #archiveofourown #ao3 #goodomensnsfw #aziraphale #crowley #goadcc
Now presenting a tragedy in three parts: part number one
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He was a shining star; he was a supernova; he was the collapsing remains of a white dwarf. He felt like his very *skin* shimmered with the force of it. Crowley jerked towards Aziraphale, hoping to press that bare angelic flesh against his starlit skin, but Aziraphale swayed away. And clicked the remote again.
Just a little tease for my next #goodomensfanfic
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Crowley was too far gone to even snarl a protest; he merely gritted his teeth through another ratcheting up of vibration, jerking into the indirect pressure that of *course* vanished the moment he thought he had something to grind against. Right now it didn’t matter *what* Aziraphale called him. He would be good. He’d be kind. He’d even be *nice* if it meant that Aziraphale would fucking *touch him*.
Can I offer you a desperate Crowley in these trying times?
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Chapter 7 of This is the Way I Pray is up, just for you!
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Hey friends! Anyone wondering what a #reverseomens through-the-ages #songfic might look like? Check it out here!
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Red. A red veil blurred his vision as he saw the moment, the fucking *second*, that Azirapahle broke. The fire in those glacier-blue eyes flared bright in fury and then… flickered. Crowley couldn’t tell if someone in the room had *actually* slowed time or if his bleeding heart was to blame for ensuring that he could see every nanosecond with unbearable clarity, each one burned into memory as the fight left Aziraphale. The useless muscle didn’t need to beat, and yet it did—and it was the metronome by which he could measure Aziraphale’s surrender.
Can I start your week with a little angst? 👀
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“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,” he chanted, simultaneously trying to thrust into and shy away from the little buzzing object that was surely going to kill him. Not discorporate, no; that was too small a thing for the enormity of how much, too much this truly was. “Oh, but you’ve done so *well* for me, darling. Surely you can take a little more?” “Can’t, can’t, can’t,” was the only word left in Crowley’s vocabulary. He was a shining star; he was a supernova; he was the collapsing remains of a white dwarf. Even with his eyes closed he felt like his very skin shimmered. Then Aziraphale closed his hand around his gloriously over-sensitised cock and Crowley *screamed*. He had only a moment to revel in the mind-shattering force of his orgasm before Aziraphale yanked his head to the side and roughly shoved himself into the wide O of Crowley’s mouth. “You perfect, depraved little thing,” Aziraphale growled, holding Crowley by the hair to better fuck his face. Crowley, out of breath, choked all the way through his aftershocks. “I told myself I wasn’t going to break. That you were to do this all on your own, and that I would merely paint your lovely face as a reward. But do you *feel* this? *This* is what watching you has done to me, Crowley.” Even as he spoke, Aziraphale’s cock swelled further in his throat, blocking what little air Crowley managed to suck down.
Another little tidbit from a *very* fun #WIP
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So, so you think you can tell / Heaven from Hell? Blue skies from pain? Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail? / A smile from a veil? Do you think you can tell? --- It was a nice day. Of course, any day he got to work in the Garden was nice. The others treated their Earthly assignments as a burden, an inconvenience at best—and a punishment at worst—but he couldn’t understand how his fellow angels found it impossible to revel in the glory of God’s finest creations; the soft loam beneath one’s feet, the birdsong carried so sweetly on the wind, the– Ah. Grimacing, the seraphim moved to drag his heel through the grass. Yes, alright, he could concede that there was *one* downside to all this free-roaming fauna. They did produce an awful lot of… droppings.
Procrastination? Me? *Never*
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He stepped up to them, storming after Muriel until their back hit a pillar. One arm slammed into the plaster and he used every last inch of extra height to loom as he bared his teeth. “I need you. To call. The lift.” “It’s too late. He’s coming.” “*Who* is coming?” Crowley rattled the column again, this time with enough infernal strength to send splintering cracks through it; Muriel didn’t do so much as blink as white chips rained down on their head. The bell over the door sounded, shocking and discordant; neither looked away from the other. Crowley broke first, lips pulled back in a snarl. “Shop’s closed, mate. Why don’t you go grab a nice cuppa instead?” “That’s a splendid idea,” said a voice Crowley had thought he’d never hear again. Aziraphale’s tone was mild, but in that terrifying manner that meant he was tamping down some great emotion. Crowley straightened slowly, so slowly, as Aziraphale continued, “Muriel, would you perhaps spend some time with Nina? I have some things I would like to discuss with Mr. Crowley.” “Certainly, sir!” Muriel leaned close, as if imparting a secret. “He’s an archangel, Crowley. I could hear him.” The little terror even had the audacity to *wink* at him as they slid by.
Crowley the Big Scary Demon (and Muriel, who would never tell him otherwise)
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Crowley paced with such fervor that Aziraphale was concerned his path along the carpet would be scorched by embers. “I was *always* there for you,” he’d spat, turning on his heel. Long, elegant hands joined the conversation, falling over one another just as quickly as his words. “Even Peter only denied knowing *his* best friend *three* times. That’s all it ever was with you, wasn’t it? Don’t know me. Don’t *like* me. From the bloody Beginning, and you still had me wound ‘round your little finger for two thousand years.” Crowley stopped, facing away, fists clenched by his sides and entire form trembling. When he spoke again, his voice broke. “Still asked you to choose *us*. Because I *believed* in you.” “Oh, my *dear*.” Aziraphale raised a hand, hoping to settle it on Crowley’s shoulder; Crowley immediately tensed, nearly curled in upon himself. Aziraphale’s fingers fell to his side, limp. “I know you have no reason to believe me, and every reason to doubt. You were ever steadfast, and all I’ve left you to remember me by is a history of fear. But… You weren’t without your own manipulations. Were you?” Silence stretched, long and poignant before Crowley slumped. He didn’t turn, but his harsh sigh lit a beacon of hope within Aziraphale’s breast. “No,” he admitted
Communication? In MY #goodomens??
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Prompt: The Best of You by the Foo Fighters
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Prompt: The Best of You by the Foo Fighters
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Prompt: Wrecking Ball by Miley Cyrus
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Crowley, his head still bent to the crook of Aziraphale’s neck, exhaled, the heat of his breath raising gooseflesh in its wake. The sharp point of Crowley’s nose skimmed the tendon of Aziraphale’s throat, flexing as he swallowed heavily. A scorching path was laid slowly, inevitably, northward, until that burning trail found the line of his cheek, the bone of his jaw. Crowley paused at Aziraphale’s mouth, close enough that he could feel a hot puff of air against his lips. Just as he thought Crowley would close the distance, would *kiss him*, Crowley's hand began its journey over Aziraphale’s chest; up his shoulder, circling the sensitive shell of his ear, ticking the delicate skin below, drawing between them until he had a gentle hold on Aziraphale’s chin. “Look at me,” Crowley said, so softly Aziraphale wasn’t sure he’d spoken at all.
Just a little sexual tension to kick off the morning
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He’d not been made for all this…. rebellion and undermining and snide double-talk. He didn’t *want* to turn the archangels against one another while plastering on a false smile or enacting surprise, but he was a principality, a *guardian*. And for the promise of Crowley’s future, there was very little he wasn’t prepared to question, to throw away, to go to war for. Even if to do it he had to rip them—and his own heart—apart in the process.
Can I tempt you with a snippet?
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Oh-ho, what's this? A little something that poured out of me, totally unedited, and at the midnight hour for the #GOAD #NightingaleChallenge?
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