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Do you know of any steamy fics where Aziraphale and Crowley DON'T miracle away their clothes? Sometimes I get impatient too, I get it, but there is something so delicious about slowly going button by button and letting cloth fall to the floor....Any good stories with highly detailed disrobing?

Here are some steamy (and a couple of less steamy!) undressing fics...

Unbuttoned by LemonTart (E)

One drunken evening, Aziraphale is determined to convince Crowley that human clothing is superior to miracled clothes. Crowley reluctantly agrees to try on real garments, and when Aziraphale glimpses a half-naked demon, temptations (and so many waistcoat buttons) lead to a passionate night. The corner of Crowley’s mouth lifts slightly. He tugs the fabric at his waist and slips the shirt up his back and over his head with a shimmering hiss of silk across his skin. He tosses the shirt onto the chair and stands in the room, one hip cocked, his torso bare. “What now, angel?” Crowley asks, his voice low.

I don't want you (like a best friend) by mercuryhatter (M)

Crowley wears a new dress to the annual Heaven-Hell office party. Aziraphale is normal about it. In the first chapter, Crowley and Aziraphale have a deeply annoying time at a party and try to pretend they aren't flirting. All the sex is only in the second chapter.

Before the Hammer Blow by EdosianOrchids901 (E)

The night before Warlock’s birthday party, Crowley and Aziraphale are both terrified. They seek comfort in each other’s arms. If they don’t have much time left together, they want to make the best of it.

Clothes Shopping by rockinellie (T)

Aziraphale decides it’s time to modernize his wardrobe and asks Crowley for some fashion help. This includes trying on clothing, talking about clothing fitting them, etc.

Effortless by Anonymous (T)

“I’m not sure I follow.” Crowley sighs. “See – I could wear your clothes. And, uh.” Here comes the hard part. He pulls one of his hands out of Aziraphale’s grasp. Not far, just a little, just to hook his index finger under the cuff of Aziraphale’s shirtsleeve and coat, wiggle it into the buttonhole so that the button starts to slide free. He swallows. “I could wear your smell, too.” To think that he was exhausted, reduced to incoherence, a smear on the bed a half-hour ago. He feels very awake now.

Crowley’s miracle doesn’t work and the bus they take after the airfield goes to Oxford instead of London. They will have to get a room to work out what to do next, no two ways about it.

Intimate Looks by Ponderosa (M)

Aziraphale left the consultation room thrilled, dazzled, and also feeling a bit taken advantage of. The camisole now rested snug beneath his shirt, and he’d been measured for a whole host of underthings that were promised to be delivered to him at what seemed like an ungodly speed. He folded his bill of sales and tucked it in his coat pocket, ready now to get out of here before he was talked into purchasing anything else he hadn’t intended on. Or, he was until he took stock of the room anew. Firstly, he was certain there hadn’t been a pole in the corner when he’d first come back here. Secondly, he’d know the bend of that back anywhere, with or without clothes on. tl;dr: The one where a new shop opens next door, Aziraphale gets new lingerie, and Crowley struts around in leather hot pants.

- Mod D

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Magic hands 👀

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Ahahahahahahah ohmygodddddd what the fuuuuuuuck MICHAEL SHEEN ahhhhhhhh

*walks out of the room*

*walks back in*

He called him the thin dark DUKE too

*screams*

*leaves again*

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1941, Soho, Aziraphale's bookshop

There are three empty wine bottles on the table and a fourth between them on the floor, freshly opened. While the couch is in perfect condition, they had both ended up in front of it, leaning against it to keep themselves somewhat upright.

Crowley in particular is swaying on the spot, allowing Aziraphale to top off his cup and handing it to him with a stern look that said don't you dare leave wine stains on my furniture.

In the low candlelight, they keep drinking, and Crowley can't help but watch the flame flicker over his cheekbones, the grey shadows softening his lips, tracing the sparkle in his eyes when the angel turns his head to look at him; they're both equally drunk and happy to leave the day behind.

"Didya' listen to a single word I jus'said?"

His nose wrinkles adorably, eyelids flutter, and he licks a stray drop of wine from his lips. Crowley mirrors him without even noticing, too caught up in trying to keep himself from reaching out, plucking the glass from his hand, and tasting the wine on his tongue.

"I almost killed you," he says, voice more fragile than he expected it to be, and the annoyance etched into Aziraphale's forehead immediately bleeds away.

"You didn't, love, 'm all here."

Oh, Crowley wants, he wants to feel that pet name against his lips and hear it whispered into his ear in the middle of the night. He wants to curse heaven and hell alike and take as much as Aziraphale is willing to give; he has lived off of scraps of affection for centuries.

Somewhere in the distance, a bomb falls, rumbling through the ground and shaking their windows, and Crowley does not make a choice as much as he empties his glass in one go and stops holding his body back from taking what it desires.

Aziraphale's thighs are soft and warm, his pupils blown so wide his irises turn them into a lunar eclipse, and he carefully extracts his angel's wine glass from his fingers, downing the rest, and puts it to the side. His shades are... somewhere, and have been for quite a while, not that he cares.

Reality is blurry, his vision swims more than it is steady, and if anyone were to ask, he'd blame it all on the alcohol and the thrill of adrenaline. He wants to slide a hand up his neck and cup his face, so he does, fingers threading through silky hair.

"Angel?"

They both have to blink several times until they can focus on each other again, but once Aziraphale fully processes the demon in his lap and the decreasing distance between their lips, well, he has never said no to pleasure.

The first touch is tentative, but the next is a proper kiss, wine-slicked lips sliding against each other, mouths opening on their own accord. Hands on his back pull him in, closer and closer until there is no space left and he can feel Aziraphale's human heart beat beneath his own.

They kiss and kiss and kiss, dreading the approaching dawn, but for now they are safe in an ink-black cocoon of their own making, a bubble in time no one will be able to pop. It is 1941, and for a few hours, an angel and a demon become an us, the bombs singing in a horrible imitation of a nightingale.

When Crowley leaves in the grey morning light, sober and with a bitter taste in his mouth, he doesn't look back.

The next time they talk, the war is over, Crowley has gained a new collection of hellish scars all over his body, and neither of them ever brings up the night they tasted freedom for the first (and perhaps last) time.

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“trust me，angel，you’ll enjoy it…”

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aziraphale got his driving license 90 years ago

crowley drives a 90 year old car

aziraphale got his license the same year crowley got his bentley

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I am very normal about them *sobbing quietly into my blanket*

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Ok sorry but why is no one talking about Aziraphale’s most bad ass scene in the entire fucking show? Like yes I know it was hot when he corrected his name when Furfur was butchering it and yes it’s amazing, but how are we all sleeping on the utter majesty of

My brothers and sister in Christ. The growl. The stance. Did he swap again with Crowley? No, that is pure, raw bastard angel, serving up fresh cunt. If he had been holding his flaming sword in this scene, I would be posting this from the grave. Crowley would have instantly jizzed his pants and fell to the floor useless if he had seen this. This bitch ain’t soft, he’s rock hard and ready to FUCK. YOU. UP.

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Back on the bench

And again, and again…

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Parallels - Good Omens Seasons One & Two - Part One

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I've been watching this on loop and sobbing for the past 3 hours, please send help.

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David Tennant's ✨walk✨

from Georgia's instagram

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It would have been so easy for Crowley to not declare his love after Aziraphale interrupts and drops his bombshell. It’s so often the trope that someone finally works up the courage to confess something but is then interrupted and when asked, ‘what were you going to say?’ they respond with ‘Oh it wasn’t important’ or something along those lines.

That would have been the easy choice. There still could have been a fight, it still would have been devastating and all of that subtext and all of those unspoken feelings would still have been there but no, they decided to pull out every.single.stop. on the heartbreak front.

I think that was absolutely the right (and brave) decision for the level of drama needed and for that scene. And for their relationship.

But also, I just can’t stop thinking about WHAT IT MUST HAVE TAKEN for Crowley to do that.

He worked up the courage, was interrupted, was given horrendous, shattering news and then STILL DECLARED HIS LOVE ANYWAY

And yes he had to try and he had to make Aziraphale understand but THINK WHAT IT MUST HAVE COST HIM

And then even after the confession not working out and his heart being stomped on again HE STILL WENT FOR A KISS

HE PUT HIS WHOLE ENTIRE HEART ON THE LINE

FUCKING EVERYTHING HE HAD

Imagine what that would take for anyone, LET ALONE CROWLEY

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

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"You don't just see things in black and white. Sometimes, you've just gotta blur the edges."

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good omens is fun to watch because david tennant brings to the table looking confusingly incredibly hot no matter what hes doing or wearing. meanwhile michael sheen brings to the table every emotion that has ever been experienced in the history of mankind

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