really weird things with her tongue.

[gingerhaole]

He’ll probably get a commendation from Hell for all this crap. See you in October, Crowley.

[crowshe]

Crowley when she thinks about @notoccultx​ getting stuck in doorways because she’s wearing 387393739 petticoats 

[a-shelasso]

@crowshe​ said: 💬 crowshe; because the snake wants in on the fun

“ I DARE NOT STAY long. I just had to see you. ” 

[crowshe]

       “ ME? Nnh - ? All right, yeah. Me. Got it. Er --- bit weird, though, innit? Comin’ all this way just for a bit of an ogle. ”

      “ Sure you’re not out lookin’ for a good old temptation? Could offer you a special discount. First one’s free, actually. Just, uh. Let me know ... what’s up. I’ll tempt anyone into doin’ anything for you. ”

[humanveil]

Suranne Jones in DOCTOR FOSTER: 2x3.

[wellvcrsedetiquette]

       { the SECOND COMING had been on earth          for twenty-four hours, while in london’s soho,          a demon and an angel have been drinking           solidly for the past SIX of them. } 

              “ so WHAT… ”

         the edge of each syllable slips sluggishly through the           drunken HAZE wafting and hanging so HEAVILY in the           air of the bookshop. if this is REALLY the endgame of           it all – earth, mankind, impractical bone china, garish          sushi restaurants, them, then this is EXACTLY the fashion           in which aziraphale would like to spend the planet’s dwindling           prime; properly SLOSHED with an equally inebriated           angel plastered against her. { LIKE NOW. }

             “ w– what exactly… is your POINT ? “ 

        a FAT lot of bollocks and rubbish HOPE was !          aziraphale had been STRAINING her hoping muscle on the          absolutely ravenous desire for crowley to FORGO          these fussy talks of rapture and living lords in favor          of collapsing into a lewd HEAP of otherworldly, sapphic         adoration. but it seems not even the FRUFRU flavor of chateauneuf         du papes clinging to the demon’s lecherous tongue could          sate the INCESSANT bargaining that night. { there’s a          tantalizing smear of peachy maquillage across aziraphale’s kiss          swollen lips to show for THAT particularly fruitless endeavor. }

              an anguished GROAN narrates the demon’s haphazard               stumble and COMPLETELY intentional backwards collapse               onto the overstuffed chaise lounge, elbows comically winged as she                WRITHES into a lopsided, half-laid position. { just that’s a massive                accomplishment, given that the shop presently feels LESS like a                scholarly den on inequality and more a NAUSEATING carnival ride. }               NEEDFUL fingers extend longingly towards the heavenly host                once more, even the MINUTE parting disagreeable to the                ungodly shopkeep’s way of thinking ! that wide-eyed yearning prompts                aziraphale’s tailored slacks and half-buttoned dress               shirt to do their DAMNEDEST to project a glamor of                IRRESISTIBILITY – under threat that they would all                meet a seam-ripping fate if crowley wasn’t in her lap                soon. { and by soon, azazel cruelly twists a loose thread               on her cuff, she means RIGHT NOW ! } 

       “ ANGEL – “

@snakeley​ ;;

[crowshe]

     “ The point. ”   Yeah, all right, THAT. That thing -- purpose of her speech, end goal of her heavenly guidance, holy objective mumbled wine-soakedly into her demon’s ear -- she’s sure it exists, must do, because otherwise what’s the point, if you haven’t GOT one? ------ and she does, always does. ‘S what makes her heaven’s toppest notch, her sheer braininess. Problem is, well. She must’ve lost the point, the goal, the objective somewhere between Aziraphale’s downright idiotically tempting breasts. Not a surprise - bloody things’ve been shoved right into her face all evening, essential PICTURE-BOOK DEFINITION of sin ... and the most explicit picture book, at that. 

      Hoping to find her long-lost wits again, Crowley goes exploring where she suspects she dropped them, sliding a greedy hand beneath Aziraphale’s sort-of-unbuttoned shirt front. Right. There’s the point. A whole handful of it. “  --- Is. ” She folds her lips into something almost passing for a kiss and presses them against her demon’s scrunched-up nose, slithering close until she’s nestled urgently between those devilish thighs. “ The point I’m trynna make is! ”  Delicious thighs. Comfy, pillowy, cradle-of-all-things-hot-and-beautiful thighs. “ My point is --- dolphins. ” Stroke of genius. “ That’s m’point. ” 

      All right! Good one! Earth’s NEVER seen a winged serpent more rightfully pleased with herself. Crowley’s fingers sneak from one breast to the other, conquering it in a well-deserved celebration of her own sharp-wittedness. Her tongue darts out to paint tingles across her little devil’s jaw-bone, tasting ... huh. Mostly alcohol, as it so happens. Not good enough. Not convinced enough. She needs the old fiend reformed, clarified, enlightened, practically starbursting with angelic enticement. Won’t be too hard, now she’s got the dolphins on her side. Only a couple of years ago, 1991 that was, she took her to Brighton Dolphinarium, tried to seduce her into miracling the poor buggers back into the ocean. Well - and apart from the awkward bit with the motorboat and the diver, the mission was a full success. So there. Gotta do the trick. She peppers a dolphin-shape of kisses across Aziraphale’s cheek, landing decidedly on her mouth where the creature’s snout would be. “ Dolphins, see. ”

[iceafterdeath]

Late birthday gift for @sassyandtired Sorry, babe.

[wellvcrsedetiquette]

                   an angel who did not so much FALL as she                                     was F L U N G downwards. 

[crowshe]

The J in Anthony J. Crowley stands for Jealousy

[crowshe]

🐍   ooc   /   I’m just here for my two ladies.