#little guy navel

[smoochie150]

silly trauma center men I love voiced by yuri lowenthal

[nebularious]

Cringetober day 7: Crossover!

AUGH MY HANDS

I'm really proud of this! The general plot is that the homestuck characters are now Doctors and Team Caduceus (and also Greg) are sburb players!

[asclepias0819]

i cannot draw second opinion little guy

[lillialuna]

I was talking with @half-to-whole earlier and couldn't pass up the opportunity to edit this

[lavenderdiedforthetenthtime]

I was hyponotized by that Rabit Hole animation with Hatsune Miku and I drew this

[sanae-kochiyas]

Who killed him...(it was Chloe)

[cringywhitedragon]

Another random TC headcannon: Little Guy and Rock music

Had this series on the brain again and why not share another HC.

We all know Navel went crazy over the blown up guitar, hinting he’s likely a bit of a music guru.

Namely I head-cannon he’s particularly more of a rock fan when it comes to music (Like something more on the lines of your more downtempo songs and bands since Rock is a rather broad genre)

Like I could see this guy just kinda chilling at home or in his office when things aren’t busy with the radio on while he’s working. Or even when he’s driving, Navel will crank up a classic rock station.

He also has a collection of some of his favorite artists and albums at home he’ll listen to on a CD or Record Player.

Naomi knows this. Particularly from a call where she overheard some music in the background that Navel was quick to apologize for.

And since I ship these two: Let’s just say that once these two dorks started dating, Navel one day found a CD copy of a specific album he had been struggling to get his hands as well as a little note

[moron-cream]

Unfinished quick comic of Navel and Naomi

[pocket-deer-boy]

you ever say "i love fat men" and then people come out of the woodworks all "yeah i love a little bit of a belly" or like "i love a guy who's fat but also strong as hell" and like. do you guys actually love fat men or do you only like it if there's some other condition present. because when i say "i love fat men" i do mean like 300+ pounds big love handles doesn't work out deep navel gets sweaty easily cellulite and stretch marks big boobs men. and i think if you exclude that i'm willing to gatekeep the phrase "i love fat men" from you because you're clearly not dedicated to The Cause.

[sgtgarricks]

begging kyle to do it raw :(

saw this tweet and thought to myself: how do i make this about kyle garrick? (afab!reader)

cw: nsfw, breeding kink!!!!, fingering, vaginal sex, uhh kyle garrick is a warning

reblogs are appreciated ♡

Kyle was, by a huge margin, the sweetest guy you have ever dated. He would always make time to text you a 'good morning' or 'good night' even when he was busy, had scheduled flower deliveries if he was going to be away for a while, and make sure you were always taken care of financially.

However, you found out recently he could have a little bit of a mean streak in bed.

His lips travel slowly from the column of your neck to your chest before finding your nipple. He licks tentatively while his hand travels south to your navel. You moan when his finger reaches your pussy, moving back and forth making squelching noises from how wet you are.

"Kyle, please.." You moan out, unable to take his teasing. Your fingers grip his strong arms as he breathes out.

"Mmm.. be patient, sweetheart. Let me play with this pretty little pussy first." He comes back up to pull you into a slow kiss, his tongue meeting yours. The way he kisses drives you insane, his tongue skillfully exploring your mouth. He groans when you try to kiss him rougher and slips a finger easily into your walls.

"Ah, fuck.." Your back arches as he slips his finger deeper into you, momentarily breaking the kiss as your eyes close. The moment you do, you feel a bite on the side of your neck and your eyes open in surprise.

"Don't look away from me. Look at me when I make a mess out of you." He leans back, giving you a perfect view to his finger that's thrusting in and out of your slick pussy as his other hand plays with your clit.

You feel your breath get heavier, eyes hazy, and mind cloudy from the immense pleasure you feel. You can feel his eyes on you, watching your every move like hawk as his cock begins to twitch.

His hand begins to move faster and you can hear the sound of your slickness as he fingers you. One of your hand goes to your nipple, fingers pinching and rubbing lightly. With your other, you grasp Kyle's leaky cock in your hand, squeezing him lightly as you begin to stroke him.

"Fuck, you're doing so well for me," His praise shoots straight to your core as you start squirming in bed. "You wanna cum, baby?" He doesn't falter in his pace, inserting another digit as your walls begin to clench on his fingers.

"Y-yeah, wanna cum so bad Kyle.."

"Mmm.. that right? You wanna cum on my fingers?" You nod, unable to speak. You feel pressure build as your heart begins to beat faster, you were so, so, close.

And then he stops.

You whine out in protest and stare at him in confusion. You feel the pressure subside as Kyle grins at you, stroking himself.

"The only thing you're cumming on is my cock, baby." You couldn't even protest, legs spreading immediately to accommodate him. He hums at your submission and strokes your thigh. You hear a plastic rip and you see him about to put a condom on. Using protection was a normal part of your sex life, but today, something in you didn't want the latex barrier between you and Kyle.

You sit up and grab the condom on his hand as he looks at you questioningly. One of his eyebrow raises and you feel heat rise to your cheeks.

"Can we.. not use the condom?" You ask shyly. He was motionless for a second, before his face morphs into a cocky grin.

"Yeah? You want me to fuck you raw?" He inches his face closer to you, lips a breath away from touching. Nodding, you slowly take the condom away from his hand and throw it on the floor.

"Say it." He goads as he slowly pushes you back. "Say what you want me to do to you." He taps his cock on your clit a few times, dragging it over your slick folds and positioning it at your hole. You stay silent, hand over your face in embarrassment. He leans over you and pulls your hand away.

"I'm not gonna fuck you until you say it." He threatens. You huff out, pouting as you stare up at him.

"Kyle.." He only raises an eyebrow, continuing to thrust shallowly, the tip almost slipping in. The head of his cock rubs on your clit teasingly and you feel lightheaded. "Tell me what you want."

"I want you to fuck me raw, want to feel all of you in me. Need you to feel you cum inside me." You plead, hand going to his neck and dragging his mouth down to you as his cock slips in your walls. He groans into your lips and begins rocking forwards, inching more of himself into you.

"So fucking good for me, telling me what you want." He's fully in you now, hips moving to pull out halfway before slamming in fully.

"Don't worry baby, I'll give you what you want. I'll fill you up nicely, keep all of me inside you until it takes, yeah?" He whispers breathily. Your legs cross between his back, pulling him closer every time he bottoms out.

"Y-yeah.. fill me up Kyle, want it so bad, want you so bad." You whimper when his tip hits the gooey spot inside you. With the way your bodies are pressed together, you feel every clench of his abdomen as he thrusts his leaky cock in you, the raw feel of him causing tingles up and down your spine.

"You're so fucking tight, how long have you wanted this huh?" His hand grabs both your cheeks as you can feel yourself start to drool a little. Tears fill your eyes at the immense pleasure Kyle is giving you.

Your walls clench to his rhythm, hips colliding against one another as he grunts with every thrust. The combined mess of your juices are spilling out of your hole, causing a wet mess on the bed.

You can only grunt out 'ah, ah, ah's as Kyle fucks you absolutely stupid. His dick is overwhelmingly thick, filling you like never before and the heat of him causes more pleasure to shoot through your body.

"You're gonna let me fuck you raw from now on, aren't you? Let me fill your sweet little pussy?" The logical part of your brain knows you should think about it more, but with every snap of his hips and the tip of his cock hitting your cervix you know you could never go back.

"Yeah, yeah. Gonna let you fuck me raw whenever you want," You nod, tears fully flowing from your face from the sheer pleasure. "Want you to cum inside me," Whining, you stick your tongue out, searching for his desperately.

He coos at you and relents, giving you what you want. Your tongue continues to explore his mouth when you feel his finger rub at your clit again.

"You gonna cum for me, sweetheart?." He whispers, moving his finger in circles as your body begins to twitch.

"S-so close, Kyle. Please, let me cum." You beg, legs dangling uselessly behind him as he's basically folding you in half now.

"Been so good to me, go on. Cum for me." Instantly, you feel your core clench hard on his cock as your back arches. Your entire body tightens as your mouth opens despite no sound coming out. Your orgasm washes over you in pulses, legs still twitching as you come down from your high.

Kyle continues fucking you slowly through it, eyes staring at you in wonder. He wipes the tears from your cheeks and presses kisses to your face.

"Beautiful." He whispers on your skin, fucking you slowly but deeply still. You were still slowly coming down from your high, not knowing how long Kyle stays moving inside you. The wetness from your cum helps him move even easier now as he starts moving faster again. Putting your mouth to his ear, you begin to whisper in his ear.

"Cum in me Kyle, want to feel you dripping out of me," He groans at your words as his rhythm starts to become frantic and you know he's close.

"Oh fuck," He grinds deeply into you, moaning. You feel the hot spurts of his cum coat the inside of your walls, branding you from the inside as his.

You moan out at the feeling and pull him closer to your chest as his cock continues to twitch out every last drop of his cum. He huffs, breathing heavily for a few minutes.

When he starts to pull out, you feel globs of his cum begin to leak out of you when he grabs your hips and tilts them upwards, preventing anymore from leaking out. He flops down, using both his arms to prevent his full weight from crushing you.

You were running your hand through his hair slowly, feeling yourself start to drift off when Kyle speaks.

"Hope you know I was serious about fucking you raw from now on."

notes: blushing and losing consciousness as i finish writing this goodbye i am going to go on ao3 and scour kyle garrick tags

[hoshifighting]

svt’s favorite place to cum when they pull out????

seungcheol; all over your stomach. watching it drip down your skin, seeing the way you shiver as it pools in your navel, it’s enough to drive him feverish. he strokes the last drops out, making sure every bit of him is covering you. he loves the way you squirm under his gaze, your fingers instinctively reaching down to scoop it up, and the smirk that spreads across his face when you taste him is pure satisfaction. “next time, i’m gonna make sure it’s even messier.”

jeonghan’s got a bit of a mean streak, so his favorite spot is your mouth, right on that pretty little tongue of yours. he loves watching your lips wrap around him, taking everything he gives. “that’s it, baby, just like that,” he purrs, guiding your head as he pulls out, making sure you don’t miss a drop. there’s something about the way your eyes water or how you look up at him with that needy expression, that just makes it so much better, thumb brushing over your cheek as you swallow.

joshua’s a thigh guy, no question. he loves the way they tremble under his touch, how soft and warm they feel against him. when he’s close, he always pulls out, just to coat your inner thighs with his cum, watching it mix with the slick from where he’s been fucking you senseless. hands squeezing your thighs, spreading them apart to get a better view of the mess he’s made. the contrast of his pale cum against your flushed skin that does it for him, the way you can’t help but rub your legs together, desperate for more. “don’t worry, i’ll clean you up after. maybe with my mouth.”

jun’s favorite spot is your chest, right between those gorgeous breasts. there’s something about seeing you covered in him that just makes his go brrrrr. as he pulls out, he’s already positioning himself, hand wrapped tight around his cock as he pumps himself to completion. “fuck, yes,” he groans, letting go right on your skin, watching it drip down the valley between your breasts. the way you arch your back, pushing them together, making sure he doesn’t miss a spot—it’s pure heaven. he pants, fingers trailing through the mess, smearing it across your nipples, grinning when you gasp at the sensation. “next time, i wanna see it dripping down your neck.”

hoshi; your ass, obsessed with how it bounces, how it fits perfectly in his hands. when he’s about to finish, he always pulls out, just to cum all over it. the sight of his release on your soft, round cheeks? it’s fucking art to him. hands squeezing your ass as he watches it glisten. he’s rough, spreading your cheeks apart, making sure every drop stays where he wants it.

wonwoo; your lower back, that sweet spot right where it dips. there’s something intimate, almost possessive, about marking you there. when he’s close, he pulls out just to watch his cum paint that perfect little curve. eyes locked on the way it pools in the small of your back. he loves how vulnerable you look, face down, ass up, his release shining on your skin. it���s like a brand, a reminder that you belong to him. “gonna keep you like this for a while,” he murmurs, tracing patterns in the mess he’s made. “so you remember who owns you.”

woozi’s a little unconventional?—he loves your hands. there’s something so erotic about seeing his cum on your fingers, knowing they’re the same ones you use to play your instruments, that do your makeup, to create. when he’s close, he pulls out, guiding your hand to wrap around him, making you finish the job. he gasps, watching intently as his release coats your fingers, dripping down to your wrist. the way you bring your hand to your lips afterward, licking him clean, it’s almost too much for him.

minghao; i think thighs too? legs in general, or a very ample place of your body, drives him crazy. when he’s close, he pulls out, just to see his cum drip down them, mixing with the sweat, the cum spreading it alone because of the ample skin. “sexy,” he breathes.

mingyu’s got a serious thing for your face, especially when he can see every little reaction you have. when he’s close, he pulls out just to watch his cum land on your lips, your cheeks, your chin, watching the way your eyes flutter shut, your tongue darting out to taste him. he likes the visual, the way his release contrasts against your skin, the way you look up at him, covered in him. thumb brushing over your lips, smearing it across your mouth. “can’t get enough of you like this.”

seokmin’s got a thing for your stomach, right below your belly button. it’s a vulnerable spot, one that feels incredibly intimate to him. when he’s about to finish, he pulls out just to see his cum spread across your soft skin, watching it drip down to your hips. his hand shaking as he spreads it around, making sure you feel every bit of him. “love seeing you like this, covered in me.” the way you blush, the way you look up at him with those big eyes... fucks him“gonna keep you like this, babe. don’t move.” he loves the idea of you walking around with his mark on you, knowing that you’re his.

seungkwan’s a sucker for your pussy, especially when you're clenching with every thrust. when he’s about to finish, he presses in, just to watch his cum dripping from you after, when he pulls out, I think he may finger you to keep the cum in place, or just to play with the mess, watching you squirm.

vernon; at first, ass. but he always gets ’too excited’ and ends up cumming in the middle of your back, or when you’re giving him oral, he might get so horny that might go accidentally on your hair or on your eyes, or on your makep. he’s always embarrassed, making sure to wash your hair, help you to clean your eyes, or retouch your makeup.

chan’s a creampie lover! don’t tell me otherwise, please! the mere thought of breeding you makes him roll his eyes back. when you’re in public and you two leave the bathroom, he’s sure that at some point your panties can’t hold everything in, when if his cum starts to drip down your thighs, he knows that it’s time to go home—and fill youup again. but if he pulls out, it think that he might smear it on the pussy lips/inner thighs

[rafesfavgirl]

belly piercing — r. cameron

pairing: bf!rafe x fem!reader

context: you got a belly button piercing and rafe sees it for the first time.

words: 652

warnings: fluff, mention of smut

it was a bright and sunny day when rafe convinced you to take a ride in topper's new boat with him, topper, and kelce.

you had recently gotten your belly button pierced and hadn't told rafe about it yet, so you quickly threw on one of his oversized shirts over your bikini before meeting them outside.

"hey, pretty girl," he holds a hand out to you when you reach the end of the dock to help you step into the boat.

"hey, y/n," kelce and topper both greet you as you join them, topper at the steering wheel, and kelce sipping on a bottle of beer.

"hey guys," you throw them a smile, as rafe wraps an arm around your waist and gives you a peck on the lips.

topper steers the boat away from the dock and starts heading out towards the marsh.

—

topper had anchored the boat to a stop in the middle of the marsh half an hour ago, so you were all now chilling under the sun.

you were perched on a lounge chair on the opposite side of the boat's deck from rafe, topper, and kelce, who were sitting on the L-shaped couch, sipping on their beers, and talking about some girl kelce was trying to get with, while you read your summer romance book.

all three guys had lost their shirts some time around noon when the sun reached its peak, and now that it was beating down hard and causing sweat beads to scatter across your skin, you consider taking off rafe's oversized shirt to just sit in your bikini.

you contemplate it for a second, unsure of what rafe might think about your newly pierced navel, but after persuading yourself that he was probably too distracted talking to topper and kelce to even notice it, you hop up from the lounge chair to pull his shirt over your head.

little did you know, he watched your every move from the moment you stood up, his eyes trailing over your body as you took his shirt off, the diamond encrusted ring in your belly button reflecting the sunshine and immediately catching his eye.

a smirk comes across his lips as he stood up to walk over to you in the middle of topper's sentence, and sat down at the edge of your lounge chair, facing you.

it didn't take you long to notice exactly what he was staring at, as he pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth. 

a newfound confidence washes over you when you realize that the look on his face meant that he was loving the new piece of jewelry on your body. "you like it?"

he tilts his head up at you, his piercing blue eyes twinkling as he reached out to grab the back of your thighs and pull you closer to him, your navel directly in front of his face. "it's sexy, baby." he glances at it again, bringing a finger up to play with it. "does it hurt?"

"it's a little sore, but nothing too bad," you tell him, your hands tangling in his hair as he tilts his head up to look at you again.

"so it wouldn't hurt if you rode me?" he kinks an eyebrow at you and pulls you into his lap so you're straddling him, your thighs on either side of his legs.

"is that something you'd like?" you tease, his face inches away from yours now.

"very much," he nods, placing his lips on yours as his hands on your lower back pushed your body closer to his.

"hey lovebirds!" kelce calls out to the two of you, and you both snap your head towards him and topper on the couch.

"get a room," topper adds, sipping his beer.

"jump off the boat and go for a swim then," rafe tells them, causing you to snicker. "give us ten minutes."

reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated <33

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[moonstruckme]

could i request poly!marauders with reader who has trouble sleeping/insomnia pls? it’s so frustrating not being able to sleep and seeing everyone sleeping and then having a raging head and being exhausted throughout the days,,, just want someone to make the nights a little less stressful :((

Sorry for the long wait sweetness! Thanks for requesting

modern au

poly!marauderes x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

You want desperately to know what time it is. With the blackout curtains covering the windows and the digital clock stowed away in the drawer of the nightstand, it’s impossible to guess whether the sun is rising outside or if it’s only an hour past when you went to bed. You honestly have no idea. It feels like you’ve been lying here for an eternity, willing yourself to relax, but in your experience it’s equally likely that ten minutes have gone by. 

It’s that much worse with your boyfriends snoozing all around you. You envy Sirius’ open-mouthed snore. You feel trapped. You want to be sleeping with them but you can’t, so you want them to be awake with you, but waking them would be cruel. When you’d first gone to bed James had held you up against him, but it hadn’t taken long after he’d fallen asleep for him to roll over, unconsciously abandoning you between his and Remus’ backsides. Remus is a light enough sleeper that you know he’ll wake if you try to get out of bed, so you’re stuck here, staring into the formless black of your room, not knowing how much longer you have to endure it. 

Eventually you sit up on your elbow, reaching over Remus to check the time on your phone. Your hand is arrested just above the nightstand. 

“What,” Remus’ voice is croaky. “What’re you doing?” 

You don’t answer, knowing an honest one will only earn you a scolding. Remus rolls over and takes you hand with him. You can just barely see the outline of his head in the darkness, but you can feel his warm breath fanning across your face. 

“You know it’s only going to make things worse,” he says quietly. 

“It's worse not knowing,” you whisper. 

Remus sighs, rubbing his thumb into the meat of your palm. Some of your apprehension eases just from having him awake with you. “I’m sorry, sweet girl.” His voice is barely a murmur, but you can feel James starting to stir at your back. “I still think we have to try what the doctor said for now, okay?” 

He pushes his warm palm flat against yours, coaxing a small “okay” out of you. 

“I can stay up with you.” 

“No,” you say, despite the selfish voice in your head going Yes!. Remus needs more sleep than the rest of you to begin with, and you’re more accustomed to going without it than he is. “That’s okay, you should sleep.” 

You’re bracing yourself for his denial when James rolls over behind you, one big arm wrapping around your front. 

“Hey,” he slurs, “where’d you go?” 

You smother a laugh and Remus makes a similarly amused sound, likely guessing what had really happened. He reaches the hand not holding yours over your head to pet James’ hair. 

“I didn’t go anywhere,” you say softly. 

“Stay put this time, hm?” James replies fondly, giving your middle a squeeze. “Y’supposed to be on cuddle duty.” 

This time you can’t suppress it, and a little giggle escapes you. “Sorry,” you say. 

Remus hums in gentled remonstrance, you’re not sure at whom. 

“You’re all being terribly loud,” Sirius groans, and then there’s a shape leering over James’ head, doubtlessly glowering down at the three of you. “Why are we awake?”

“Someone couldn’t sleep,” Remus murmurs. 

Sirius makes a whiny pitying sound, reaching over James to paw blindly at you. You inhale when his perpetually freezing fingers fumble at your collarbone. James saves you, clasping Sirius’ hand in his own. 

“What else is new,” you try to joke. It comes out sounding more glum than you’d like. “Sorry I woke you guys.” 

“No, don’t be, angel.” James’ hand finds its way underneath your sleep shirt, thumb stroking the skin just above your navel. “We’d rather be awake with you anyway.” 

Sirius makes a sound like he could disagree, but his slender fingers burrow into your hair, scratching lightly at your scalp the way he knows you like. You bear the cold for his sake. 

“There’s no point in us all being awake,” you say, though you’re nearly purring from all the loving. “S’not your problem.” 

Sirius tsks. “We’ve been over this, doll. Your problems are ours, too.” 

You hum like Yeah, I know. Sirius takes in a breath like he might say more, but Remus comes to your rescue. 

“Do you want one of us to rub your back, dove?” 

That sounds amazing, actually. But you’re not sure if it’ll help, and you don’t want to put your boyfriends to work if there’s no promise it’ll do anything. “That’s okay,” you say. 

“No, come on.” James is already turning you in his arms. He cozies up to your front, big palm splayed out over your back. “We’re supposed to get you relaxed, right?” 

You nod, and his chest feels warm against your cheek. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep, though.” 

“That’s okay,” he replies readily. “Let’s just give it a try, yeah?”

You hum, acquiescence inlaid with guilt. From behind James, you hear Sirius chide you quietly (“Stop that”) and you know he’s heard it. James likely does too, but he ignores it, big palm beginning to move in broad, slow circles on your back. You try to help as best you can, relaxing into his hold and shutting your eyes. Even so, you grow tenser with frustration the longer it doesn’t work. 

“Breathe, sweetheart,” Remus murmurs behind you. His words brush over your nape like a caress. “Relax. Listen to his heartbeat.” 

You nestle your face closer to James’ chest, and he increases the pressure on your back as if to keep you there. You can hear the steady bump-bump of his heart as well as feel it against your cheek, and something about it has a tranquilizing effect on your own. It creates a beat to match the rhythm of his hand gliding along your back, steady and unwavering. You can hear your own breathing matching up to his, Remus’ too. Distantly, you become aware that Sirius is snoring again, but the thought dissipates half-formed. Your limbs feel warm and soft as wax. 

You don’t notice James moving until his lips come down on the top of your head, his palm still wearing its same track into your back. “Love you,” he says. 

You think you echo the sentiment, but you’re too far gone to know for sure.

[jensettermandu]

beware - kim minjeong

genre; smut

pairing; tattooist!winter x rockstar!female reader

content; smut, cunnilingus (r. giving), fingering (r, giving), brief mention of choking and spanking, implications of an unhealthy relationship, winter and reader both have piercings and tattoos but it doesnt go too much into it!

wc; 3.8k+

masterlist.

Her feet came to a stop, looking at the tattoo place and hoping that Minjeong wouldn’t throw her out this time too, last time was in the middle of the night, out in the middle of nowhere in a cheap motel. Her eyes scanned through the big glass windows, seeing the shorter girl who was sitting on the saddle chair with her back facing the window.

Minjeong slowly finished fixing her station, cleaning every little thing and organising everything, hating when her workstation would be messy. It wouldn’t even pass by Richie if it was and she was sure she would get fired as the guy had a lot of high-end clients because the place was known and had celebrities stopping by. 

She was somewhat underpaid despite having more clients than most of the other tattooists because of her designs and skill, but she knew that if she got hired anywhere she wouldn’t even get half the pay. It was a dog-eat-dog world in the end. 

Her ears were being graced with the heavy instrumental and the aggressive vocal fry of the metal song playing, that was until they were graced with the opening of the door. 

She was closing tonight and hated people who couldn’t read closing hours that were written clearly on the glass doors. “It clearly says that it’s closed.” She informed with an annoyed grumble, sighing as she waited for a response only to get none. 

Her ears tried to catch any sound of whoever entered as she had yet to turn around which was difficult with the music distorted music. She at last decided to turn around only to get stopped, her heart jumped up in rate at the cold hand that clasped over her mouth, the yelp muffled—in fear the first thing she did was elbow the person.

“Fuck–” She quickly turned around at the familiar voice that groaned in pain. “You’re fucking strong.” Y/n whined as she crouched down, holding onto the side of her ribs after the powerful blow. She was aware that Minjeong was strong after being manhandled by her in bed, but she didn’t expect her to have such reflexes. If she knew she wouldn’t have tried to scare her. 

“Are you fucking crazy?” Minjeong exclaimed, her hands wrapping around the girl's arms who looked up at her with her lower lip puckered. The girl’s heart eased from the galloping that it did when she thought she would die or get kidnapped. 

“You should know the answer.” Y/n’s voice came out somewhat strained from the pain.

Minjeong helped her back up on her feet, dragging the frail girl up by the arms. The strong scent of vanilla on the singer invaded her nose as she hadn’t been around the scent for a while. 

Minjeong sucked air through her teeth and shook her head, looking at the girl although her eyes trailed her stomach and the pierced navel first before going higher up. The band member was busy massaging her ribs slightly. “You’re a female yourself, you should know what is bound to happen if you think from my perspective for a second.” The girl complained and Y/n’s gaze fell on her at last. 

“I’ve been told that I see from the perspective of an idiot and not a woman and anyone can be an idiot.” She said with a small shrug, fixing the leather jacket as it had moved around from how she tried to see if Minjeong managed to bruise her. It was just slightly red. 

She hummed and turned back around on the chair to her station to finish up what she was doing. “Whoever said it was right,” Minjeong confirmed as the girl seemed quite reckless from what she’d seen on stage and now. 

“It was Richie—Is he in?” Y/n replied and looked back, deciding to sit down on the tattoo chair. 

“No, I’m closing tonight.”

Y/n looked around the chair that had a bunch of levers to be pulled and whatnot. The girl pulled one and reclined it further back before lifting her head and looking at the two separate legrests connected to it. “This could pass as some BDSM type of chair, would you let me eat you out on it?” Y/n questioned as ideas started to pile in her head about how she could position the girl in the chair or the tattooist position her. 

Minjeong finished and she turned back around to see the girl playing around with the levers and adjusting the chair. “No, there are windows right there and stop before you break something.” She slid over on the saddle chair she was in and grabbed hold of the girl’s hand, making Y/n look back up as she had been looking under the chair. 

The rockstar that had been plaguing Minjeong lately blew away the strand of hair that fell in front of her eyes and the two locked eyes, Y/n smiling at the girl. “But it could work if there weren’t any windows.” Y/n prompted as the idea as a whole didn’t have to be excluded if it hadn’t been for the windows. 

Minjeong let go of her hands and manoeuvred around to be in front of the girl. “If you’d do this…” She trailed off as she grabbed hold of the girl's legs, making sure that each was on the leg rests. Y/n watched the girl with a small smile, both of them in a better mood than the last time they were together. 

They had been able to wind down and relax after their latest rendezvous that had been intense with emotions; from the night they spent on the shitty mattress in the cheap motel to the constant fights they could have whenever they were together. Passionate, but in all the wrong ways as they both could still taste the bitterness of alcohol and the saltiness of tears on their lips. 

“Is this what you had in mind?” She asked as she pushed each leg rest apart, biting her lip as she parted the girl's legs and slid closer. Minjeong’s hands trailed over Y/n’s smooth and long legs, the scent of caramel and vanilla lingered along her skin.

Y/n hummed as the fingers ran over her knees and to her inner thighs. Minjeong’s fingers gently traced up creating goosebumps while she watched her fingers disappear under the black mini-skirt. Y/n expectantly watched until Minjeong caught her lust-filled gaze.

“Too bad there are windows then.” Minjeong reminded as she wasn’t going to risk getting fired if someone saw them and wouldn’t mind their business. She slid right back, teasing the girl and Y/n frowned, pulling the seat back up to sit straight as it had been reclined. 

“When do you get off?” Y/n asked.

“In 15.” She informed her and slid right back to her place. The heat that was pooling would have to wait a bit more, although neither knew how to make the time pass quicker because talking would mean having to beat around the bush of their last fight or talking about it which they never did. It was easier to fuck away the memories. 

“I won’t need more to make you tremble,” Y/n said and hopped down the chair, Minjeong’s eyes widened slightly when the taller girl grabbed hold of her hand and pulled on her. The girl rolled a bit on the chair before she managed to get up–ignoring her chair that fell over in the process. 

“Y/n–”

“It’s 15 minutes to waste doing something better than sitting around.” The lithe girl cut her off and Minjeong followed the girl who knew her way around the place. 

They walked past the counter and pushed aside the grey curtain that hid the small corridor that led to the office, bathrooms, changing room, and the first door on the left that Y/n decided to push open to not waste time—the supply room. The girl opened the door and blindly reached for the small light switch while entering and pulling Minjeong in after her. 

“I’m not trying to get fired for having sex in the supply room,” Minjeong muttered as all the ink, sanitisers and whatnot were stacked on the metal storage shelves. The door closed in the dimly lit room that just fit them both. 

“Trust me—” Y/n started and turned the girl around, Minjeong somewhat squirming at how cold the hands that gripped the flesh of her ass were. “We aren’t getting caught.”

Minjeong didn’t get the chance to question the girl’s words when all she did do was push her tongue against Y/n’s tongue when their lips met in that familiar kiss that was needy and somewhat sloppy. The barbell massaged against her tongue, making Minjeong play with it as she tilted her head to get more of Y/n’s mouth and lip gloss that tasted of vanilla. 

It was the least Y/n could do after their messy night.

Y/n squeezed the flesh in her hands, Minjeong hummed and ran a hand under the cropped tee. “You have a nice ass.” Y/n breathed out as Minjeong ’s fingers trailed up her ribs before she cupped the girl’s breast and ran her thumb over the hard nipple, this time the girl had simple barbells, making it easier for Minjeong to tug at the bud. 

“I’d have to say the same to you.” The shorter girl replied with her face nuzzling into the taller girl's neck to leave kisses that sent shivers through her whole spine, her lip rings gracing Y/n’s skin with a slight cold.

Y/n bit her lower lip as she pulled the skirt up over Minjeong ’s ass who pulled away and looked up at her. The air was cold against their hot skin and the blonde’s ass was left exposed in the lacy underwear. 

“But I love your hands on me.” The vixen hummed at Minjeong ’s words and pulled her right hand away, the other still gripping her other ass cheek.

The slender hand came to view, the same fingers that worked Minjeong’s pussy until it hurt and left her dripping wet onto her sheets, the hand that made her arch and squirm. Somehow just seeing the singer and guitarist's hand made Minjeong imagine what it had done and what more it could do. 

It made Minjeong lean in as Y/n gripped the side of her neck, thumb caressing the thudding pulse below the soft and inked skin where a tattoo started and trailed down. Their breaths mingled the tattooist stared up at her scum of a girlfriend if she could even call the problematic rockstar that. At least she was her tattooist, wasn’t she? She felt at mercy under Y/n’s touch and gaze, it was predatory, but she found comfort in the danger. 

Her peaceful life of tattooing people day to day turned into one of chaos drenched in ecstasy which made everything bearable. God, Minjeong despised her girlfriend as much as Y/n probably despised her, but at the same time, she loved just as much as she hated, the same way Y/n did. 

Y/n’s tongue stuck out, smoothing her hand over the slim neck until it was in her hold, toying with the lip ring on Minjeong’s plump lips that were wet and swollen. 

“Y/n.” Her voice was thick with lust, her cunt already throbbing as she wanted the fingers to work on her until her pussy was raw and aching from being at it for too long once again. A barely there whine at the teeth that tugged at her bottom lips, loving how the hand gently squeezed her throat while another kneaded her ass. Her nails dug into the side of Y/n’s ribs where her hand was under the girl's shirt. 

The two pulled back into each other, tongues moving against each other in heat and slickness. A gasp followed with a hum at the stinging when Y/n’s hand harshly clasped with Minjeong’s ass cheek the sound bouncing off the walls, gripping it and pulling her closer while Minjeong squeezed the breast she cupped in her hand.

The two stepped back as Y/n guided the way between the two metal shelves with her hands letting go of Minjeong and moving to grip her slim waist. Their lips parted from the messy kiss, only leaving remnants of salvia after each other. 

She slipped her hand from under Y/n’s shirt, running both her hands to her shoulders as Y/n leaned into her jaw, kissing along it with lips leaving a trail of shivers and goosebumps after, making Minjeong ’s chest heave a bit quicker.

“Fuck.” Minjeong sighed at the way Y/n nipped at her skin and moved her hand up to play with her nipples, her pace picking up as she kissed along her exposed collarbones. Her hand kneaded Minjeong’s breast through the spaghetti top that stopped right by her belly button, the hard and sensitive nipples protruding through the dark material as she was without a bra. Y/n pulled Minjeong closer by her waist, making it easier for her to lean down to her breasts. The blonde gasped when Y/n’s teeth tugged at her bud through the shirt, making her whine at the pain yet pleasure as she unconsciously tried to push Y/n to get down on her knees.

The singer hummed before pressing her pierced tongue against the same nipple through the shirt. It eased the pain and increased the throbbing of Minjeong’s clit who was holding back on moans because she had yet to touch her wet cunt and she already felt whiny. The words that followed from Y/n’s mouth made Minjeong push her onto her knees at last. 

“Gonna spend all my love and money on you.” Y/n’s voice humidly left her as she got down on her knees in front of Minjeong who held onto the top of her head. Their words tended to be fabricated and Minjeong was tired of listening to them; she preferred to have Y/n show it even if it would be in a different way from what anyone would expect.

The tattooist only had herself to blame for falling and getting tangled in the web of an unstable rockstar who was running a reckless life. It left marks on Minjeong, probably scarred and the only marks she left were with a needle and ink. 

“Shut up and show me instead.” Y/n looked up at the girl above her and smiled while running her hands up Minjeong’s smooth thighs which would have her in a choke hold while her face would be buried in her sweet pussy. 

The girl pushed up the skirt before attaching her lips to Minjeong ’s thighs. She could feel the girl holding back from squeezing her legs shut as she continued to kiss the inside of them with her nimble fingers running to the hem of the black lace panties.

Y/n pulled away and pulled down the panties, seeing the clear spot of wetness that Minjeong had left after her. She helped her out of them before stuffing them in the pocket of her jacket. 

“I want them back after.” The blonde managed to let out during her anticipation of getting her pussy eaten by the girl on her knees in front of her. 

“Do I come off as someone who steals panties?” Y/n questioned as she made Minjeong part her legs, giving her a perfect view of the glistening heaven between her legs. The vixen licked her lips and guided Minjeong’s right leg, her converse covered foot planting on the bottom shelf of the storage shelves. 

“You do, I’ve known you long enough.” Minjeong grabbed hold of Y/n’s head, her back pressed against the wall as her chest heaved. 

“You’re not wrong.” A cheeky smile covered Y/n’s lips as she leaned back in and started to kiss along Minjeong’s right thigh, the leg being propped against the shelf.

“I know I’m not, I’m missing pairs.” The girl breathily mumbled.

Y/n didn’t reply and instead reached her fingers up to Minjeong’s puffy and swollen lips using two fingers to part them. She leaned in between her legs—Minjeong releasing a light moan at the tongue that ran up from her clenching hole up to her throbbing clit. 

Y/n gathered the slickness around the bud that she swirled with her tongue before going back down and doing the same thing again. Minjeong’s juices gathered themselves on her tongue, the taste robust on her tongue and addicting, making Y/n dp it much messier to have as much as possible to lick up after leaving Minjeong a sopping mess.

The light moans and whimpers gradually picked up as Y/n continued to run her tongue along the lips she held spread with her fingers. As she gathered enough around the swollen clit she made Minjeong gasp, the grip tightening in her hair and Minjeong’s other hand quickly grabbed hold of the shelf post for balance. Things clattered as they fell from how abruptly she grabbed it, the shelf not being mounted to the wall. She hadn’t been prepared for the harsh suckling Y/n would provide with her mouth on her clit. 

“Fuck—that’s so good,” Minjeong whined, her head slumping against the wall as she closed her eyes. Her hips gyrated into Y/n’s face, unable to even try and hold still at the tongue that was flicking at her clit while Y/n moved her fingers down, teasing around the grasping hole that seeped with more wetness, running down her thighs. 

“I want you to fuck me with your fingers.” The girl moaned out, feeling Y/n tease around her hole with her fingers, remembering the view of them from earlier. The words made Y/n moan against Minjeong ’s cunt, the girl on her knees squeezing her thighs together. “To just play with my pussy until it hurts.” She spurred, wanting to get fucked until her vision would blur again, to get fucked over and over again as it made her forget everything. 

Minjeong moaned, her back arching at the two fingers that pushed into the warmth of her walls that were thudding, tightly engulfing them as they got clenched around with each moan. 

With her lips wrapped around the girl's clit she continued to suckle while flicking her tongue, Minjeong’s moans becoming louder and her grip on her hair tighter as her hips bucked into Y/n. She continued to scissor her fingers inside the girl, doing her best to adjust the tight hole more. The room filled with the moans, whines, whimpers and squelching of her pussy and the mess Y/n’s mouth was making.

The blonde could feel her body heat up at the firm yet soft muscle flicking at her swollen bud. She hummed, swallowing the dryness in her mouth as she tugged Y/n’s face more into her dripping pussy, the fingers stretching her out from the motion and being eaten out was one of the best things she could have gotten from her girlfriend at the moment. 

“Can you take one more?” Y/n pulled away mumbling, making Minjeong look down. The heat crashed in her stomach at the lead singer who was so assaultive on stage but was on her knees with a glint of submission in her eyes that were circled by the smudged eyeliner as her chin glistened with her juices, looking like she hadn’t eaten in years. It made Minjeong believe that Y/n could be different to her compared to what she truly was in front of everyone else. 

“Yeah, just keep fucking me.” 

Y/n couldn’t have gotten a better confirmation as she leaned back in with her tongue licking up and lips wrapping right around Minjeong’s clit again. This time she slowly pushed a third finger inside Minjeong’s snug walls which was enough for them to tighten at the stretch. She slowly moved her fingers, massaging and pressing her spongy wall while her tongue worked quickly, contrasting the slow strokes of her slender fingers. 

The pleasure overwhelmed the slight sting of three fingers being pushed right into her tightness. Her juices leaked, running down Y/n’s wrist who was lost in the way she had Minjeong so worked up. 

The build-up was fast at how her g-spot was pressed at and the work of the quick tongue, the hard barbell occasionally massaging added to the sensations that were blurring her head. All that Minjeong could hear were her noises, Y/n’s purr-like hums and how messy it was. Her mind filled with black as her eyes shut tightly and she gripped the post hard—something shifting and falling once again at how her body spasmed and she accidentally yanked on it from how sudden it was. 

Y/n glanced up at the girl who arched her back off the wall and threw her head back, her cunt pushing into Y/n’s mouth. A splatter of words fell from Minjeong and the girl couldn’t figure out what they were as they sounded more like whimpers. 

“So good, I want to cum all over your tongue, Y/n.” It made Y/n moan once again, wanting nothing more than for Minjeong to let go of everything on her tongue and face.

Minjeong felt the tingling spread through her body, her legs trembling and her eyebrows furrowed. Her breath hitched and warmth washed over her like a hot shower. Crying out at the orgasm that was way more intense than she expected in these circumstances as she felt lightheaded and white flashed behind her eyelids. 

Y/n tightened her grip on Minjeong’s hip, feeling the girl’s knees buckle. “Oh fuck…” Minjeong breathed out, the energy draining from her body as it relaxed. She blinked her eyes open—Y/n pulling her skirt back down as she pulled away, pulling her fingers out and helping the girl who unconsciously slid down to the floor with her. Her eyes shutting once more.

She looked at the girl in front of her whose cheeks were all flushed, her knees slumped against each other and her hands limp on the floor as she panted for air in the tight and hot space. Y/n leaned forward, restraining Minjeong of any possible room with her hands on each side of her on the cold ground. 

Her eyes opened, coming face to face with Y/n and despite feeling like she was held down by stones her hand came up. The tattooist cupped the singer’s cheek and pulled her in as she couldn’t get enough, she constantly needed more of what they had. 

It had all been so seemingly innocent, but before Minjeong knew it she was dragged into deep waters, drowning in Y/n's arms with no way out as it grew like an addiction. It had been too tempting no matter how many people told her to beware of what was disguised as innocence but only led to harm. They both dragged each other and what made it work was that it was always a one-way ticket to the gates of hell. 

masterlist.

[justhereforthemeta]

Romantic expectations and the story we didn't see: A magic trick hiding in plain sight

Here's a hopeful meta for all my fellow celestial brainrot sufferers out there. Cheers! :)

This idea started as a dead end, trying to track the movements of Crowley’s sideburns/tattoo because I thought time travel shenanigans were afoot. I had to abandon that theory when it was pointed out that David was simultaneously filming as the sideburns-having Fourteenth Doctor, and in-universe Crowley can do whatever he wants with his facial hair whenever he feels like it. But hey - null findings are still findings!

On the bright side, pausing the show to make notations in a spreadsheet forced me to slow down and notice other changes I'd overlooked the first time around: acting choices, costuming choices, references to book lore. And possibly a few surreptitious flicks of the wrist, in places where we’re meant to be focused on the magician’s other hand.

@amuseoffyre and @ineffablefood had a great exchange recently about romance and “the significance of misdirection and three-in-one (magic) tricks” throughout the show. I suspect Neil has done something brilliant with the audience’s long-standing expectations (since the 1990s, really) for the love story between Crowley and Aziraphale to develop. And while it is a wonderful story indeed, playing to this expectation lets Neil distract his audience from the blink-and-you'll-miss-them seeds he's planting for the final chapter.

Continued below the cut...

Let’s start at the beginning of Episode 2. First, context: In the previous installment, Crowley stormed out of the bookshop, was whisked away to Hell by Beelzebub where he learns about the Book of Life threat to Aziraphale’s existence, then returned to the bookshop to dance a little apology dance and hide Gabriel with an unintentionally massive joint miracle. In S2E2, we and Shax catch up with Crowley as he's snoozing in the Bentley.

Shax: “You’re in trouble”

A. J. Crowley, cool as a cucumber: “Obviously. Former demon, hated by Heaven, loathed by Hell. How will our hero cope?”

Interesting! Sarcastic? Yes, absolutely; but that’s also a good 4500 years and an averted apocalypse away from “I’m a demon. I lie,” wouldn’t you say? Someone is sounding a whole lot less depressed and aimless and navel-gazey (do snakes have navels?), and a whole lot more like he’s got a project to focus on, since his "what's the point?" ruminations on the park bench in E1.

And of course we all noticed the costume change right away. Hello, black turtleneck. Feeling cute today, thought I’d cover up my graceful long neck? That sounds unlikely. Let’s put a pin in this one.

There’s also an interesting acting choice going on here. Crowley speaks to Shax in a funny, drawling, too-cool-for-you voice that we haven’t heard in a while. Specifically, not since 1967. If you go back and give the S1E3 scene in the Dirty Donkey a listen, you’ll hear it (and if you know of another instance of it that I've missed, please let me know!). In S2E2, he keeps up this odd voice (if anybody knows what kind of affect this is supposed to be, please do tell!) throughout this dialogue with Shax, except for the brief moment when she first surprises him about the joint miracle having been detected.

1967 was a fun year. Crowley masterminded a heist! And seemed like he was having a ball doing it, right up until his little caper was called off after Aziraphale brought him the thermos of holy water. Crowley spoke to his co-conspirators in that same funny, very 60’s-caper-film voice. He wore a hip 60’s turtleneck. He bought petrol for the only time ever, so he could get those sweet James Bond bullet hole decals for his car (per the book, seen on the Bentley in the show).

Those James Bond bullet hole decals would of course have been part of a promotion for this 1967 release, which you just know our film-enjoying demon went to see in the theater:

Starring this suave, be-turtlenecked guy:

And now - begging your forgiveness - a brief rant.

There are a number of posts out there that refer to Crowley’s S2E2 turtleneck as a flirtatious sartorial choice - actually, ‘slutty’ seems to be the favored accusation. There are even a few posts floating around commenting on how sweet it is that Crowley swaps out his slutty, kinky, throw-me-over-your-desk-and-take-me turtleneck for a more dressy and appropriate collared shirt specifically to attend Aziraphale’s Jane Austen ball. 

Now this is all in good fun, and Crowley does indeed look fantastic here, and I do love a good fangirling sesh as much as the next person. However, fandom’s collective tendency to interpret what we are seeing on the screen through the lens of romantic expectation can, at times, give rise to a kind of blinkered enthusiasm that obscures the original text in a haze that is part Mandela Effect, part unrestrained horniness, and part in-group code talking and identity reinforcement.

Respectfully, Crowley’s black turtleneck does not appear at all in S2E5: The Ball. In fact, it never appears again after the end of S2E2.

For Someone’s sake, let’s collectively pull our heads out of the romantic fog/gutter for a moment and focus on what we are actually seeing in the book and on the screen. For Crowley, this is an uncharacteristic within-period costume change. There is a surreptitious flick of the wrist happening here, out in broad daylight, and we are all missing it.

So here’s a thing. Aziraphale appears to have settled comfortably into life on Earth, his neighborhood, his books, using Crowley as an outlet for sharing his good deeds that he would once have reported to Heaven. Meanwhile, at first glance, Crowley appears stuck in a rut. There he slouches on a park bench with Shax in S2E1: a guy who lives in his car, stagnantly clinging to old familiar habits, mulling over the pointlessness of it all.

Setting aside the bit about living in the Bentley (I’m going to attribute this to well-documented issues between him and Aziraphale, discussed in many other excellent metas, and move on), Crowley has at least two very good, proactive reasons for maintaining his contact with Hell through Shax. First and foremost, it’s a source of information he can use to keep ahead of potential threats to Aziraphale and himself.

But also, I would posit…he kinda likes it.

Recall that book GO was first conceived as a parody, with Aziraphale and Crowley as spy-against-spy (but not really) field operatives in an ages-old cold war between Heaven and Hell. Their entire book dynamic is rooted in the trope of two opposing agents who have been in the field for so long that they now have more in common with each other than with their respective head offices. Their St. James’s Park meetings among other spies and ministers trading secrets are a sendup of what was once a well-known Cold War-era cliché. 

Our contemporary Crowley still likes slick outfits and hellaciously expensive watches and high-performing vintage cars and pens that write underwater while looking like they could break the speed limit. He coaches Shax on how to blend in as a demon on Earth, and he helpfully redirects the wayward contact looking for the Azerbaijani sector chief. He loves improvising and getting away with shenanigans under the institutional radar. And boy golly was he impressed with Jane Austen: master spy, brandy smuggler, and mastermind of the 1810 Clerkenwell Diamond Robbery. 

And if you look at it a certain way, for as long as Crowley has considered himself to be on “[his] own side” - going at least as far back as Job - he could almost think of himself as a sort of double agent. It’s actually a very romantic sort of notion, befitting our hopeless romantic of a (professedly former) demon; but it’s romantic in a very different way than we, the audience, have been primed to watch for.

In other words, in a very “on my own side” kind of way, Crowley really gets a kick out of being a spy. Or at least, dressing up and accessorizing as one, and moonlighting as a good-doing double agent when he can get away with it. And also being a plotting criminal mastermind. Two sides of a coin, really. Just look at Jane Austen.

My point is: No, Crowley did not wait around for Shax to come find him in a turtleneck so that he could go flirt with Aziraphale later. He’ll flirt with Aziraphale no matter what. No, this:

is actually this:

Much like the one he wears to the Dirty Donkey in 1967: 

whilst holy water heist-plotting. Here's a clearer shot with gratuitous Bentley, because I love them:

…and which he'll wear again, with appropriate camouflage, while infiltrating Heaven in S2E6:

That is the 1967 planning a HEIST turtleneck for committing ESPIONAGE and STEALING THINGS in. Because turtlenecks are what modern human master spies wear to get their hands dirty - after all, he saw it in a movie once. 

Crowley dons his tactical turtleneck sometime during the first major break in the action (which doesn't happen until after the joint miracle to hide Gabriel) after he learns about the threat the Book of Life poses to Aziraphale. Loverboy started mentally preparing himself to go after that book immediately upon learning that it was in play as a genuine threat. 

Now let’s pick up at the S2E2 Dirty Donkey scene, reading the story from this angle. Of course, Crowley enables Aziraphale’s delusions about Heaven by hiding information from him, and does not disclose the Book of Life threat when they meet again. They go into the pub, Aziraphale shamelessly paws Crowley’s chest like the seductive Bond Girl he is, and Crowley gets to act all smooth and suave and intimidating as he chases off the interloping Mr. Brown (or Mr. Collins for the Pride & Prejudice fans, take your pick).

Ergo, theory: beginning in S2E2, Crowley is already thinking of himself as a Jane Austen/James Bond action hero (“How will our hero cope?”), psyching himself up to rescue Aziraphale by getting his spy game on and stealing the Book of Life.

Now, watch closely...This is where Aziraphale and Crowley brainstorm their plans to solve the problem they both know about: getting Maggie and Nina to fall in love and thereby get Heaven off their backs. Crowley’s vavoom plan is drawn from yet another movie (“Get humans wet and staring into each other’s eyes - vavoom, sorted. I saw it in a Richard Curtis film.”). But Crowley also implicitly shares his solution to the problem he hasn’t told Aziraphale about. And true to form, Crowley’s Jane Austen solution isn’t the same as Aziraphale’s Jane Austen solution. 

Two solutions that fail by the end of Season 2, and a secret third one that might still work...and there's our magic trick of three.

‘“I’m lost. Am I doing a rainstorm?” Yes, babe. And a heist, too - just not until season three. Can I get a wahoo!? 

I won’t spend time on A Companion to Owls during this meta, except to note that in all three minisodes, we get to watch stories that involve Crowley acting as a double agent on “his/their own side” - successfully making Hell and Heaven think he’s fulfilling their will while saving Job’s goats and children; failing to fool Hell when he does a good deed in Edinburgh; and of course, collaborating with Aziraphale whilst evading detection as an infernal turncoat during the Blitz.

(Because this is getting long, I'll also skip over Crowley's interrogation of Jim in this episode - I'll probably come back to that in another meta. But interrogating is a rather spy-ish thing to do.)

When we catch up with Crowley again later, he’s already slipped out of the bookshop, having left Aziraphale to his biblical reverie about Job. He saunters snakily down Whickber Street as usual, but with a very pointed and swift glance over his shoulder (see pic above). This demon is up to something - possibly something we didn’t get to see, something that may have happened offscreen while he stepped out. In any case, knowing there’ve been unfriendly angels in the neighborhood that morning, he’s rightly concerned about being spied on.

From this point until the beginning of episode six, there isn’t a whole lot of opportunity for Crowley to make any next moves. He babysits the bookshop, during which time he manages to wring some crucial information out of Jim; he follows his Crowley’s Angel around like a puppy, and downs a bottle of red like a good old fashioned lovesick boy once that’s been pointed out to him. If any plotting or scheming is underway, this occult being is keeping stumm for now.

This has been a long one, so I’ll wrap up with Crowley’s infiltration of Heaven with Muriel. The turtleneck disguise works (Archer fans, be vindicated!) long enough to gather some information that will be crucial not just to the denouement of S2, but also to Crowley’s journey in S3 (previous post on Crowley's Fall, Saraqael, and memory wiping). And Aziraphale gets to enjoy that view exactly zero times. The point isn’t oh, a turtleneck! How flirty! So cunty! So cute! Y’all. Everything matters. The costume change was a deliberate choice. In-universe, Crowley’s decision to wear his special spy turtleneck for spying in is a signal that he is out doing spy things, even as we watch.

In sum: Beginning in S2E2 and continuing through the end of the season, Aziraphale and Crowley are actively living out the scripts of two parallel, concurrent, and completely different Jane Austen stories. But you and I, dear fellow audience member, we came here for a comedy with a hefty jigger of romance, and that’s what Neil gave us to focus on. And right up until the Final 15, that was the only story we saw.

Meanwhile, Special Agent A. J. Crowley doesn’t have time to mope around at the end of S2E6. He’s kicked down, but he’s not out. He's got a Book of Life to steal, a very serious bone to pick with a certain memory-wiping angel, and his Angel and the world to save. 

“‘Heigh ho,’ said [romantic, optimist, former demon, hero, master spy] Anthony Crowley, and just drove anyway.”

[slushycoookie]

Between Two Worlds ~ Loser!Miguel O'Hara x Stripper!Reader (Pt.2)

★Word Count: 3.8k ★Content: You and Miguel get to know each other, once again he gets hard from your lap dances, Dana is Dana, Miguel also tries to make more friends, he also voluntarily gets flashed ★A/N: I was wracking my brain about how I wanted the plot to flow along but we locked in now. Enjoy! Dividers by @/rookthornesartistry

⁺˚⋆｡°✩Prev | Next ✩°｡⋆˚⁺ Masterlist | Commissions

“Why did you become a dancer?”

You paused at the question, stopping your spin around the pole in the private room. Miguel shifts in his seat, knowing that was a personal question.

“You wanna get deep now, huh?” You laugh, continuing your twirl.

“You don't have to answer.” He says, “I was just curious…”

Miguel's only been your regular for a few weeks now. He sees you dance on Tuesdays and on Thursdays, you two discuss your week. It was a light conversation, with no topics that pry into each other's lives. All while you're grinding on him.

“I'm saving up to buy a house.” Miguel wasn't expecting that and you notice his surprised face, “What, were you expecting some sob story?”

“No! Not at all.”

You shrug, “I get it. Buying a house isn't exciting.”

“I think buying a house is admirable. Why a house?”

“To get away from my family.”

Miguel’s stomach twists, “Not a big family person?”

“I am.” He mentally releases a sigh of relief, “It's just I like peace and quiet. Can't get that with them breathing down my neck every five minutes.”

You step down from the mini-stage, and he watches you run your hands along your body, starting from your neck, fingertips grazing across your long, silky black hair, over your breasts, passing by your exposed navel before touching your thighs. He gulps, shifting from his erection to focus back on the conversation.

“Do they even know what you do?”

“They know of my part-time job at the mall. When I go out at night, I tell them I have a nighttime job at an office.” You smirk, “As you can see, I'm a good liar.”

He chuckles, “You are.” You strut towards him, turning so your back faces him. His eyes go down to your ass, seeing your plump cheeks in front of him as they grind on his lap. “Why a house? If you wanted to get away from your family, people usually start with an apartment.”

“That’s true. But I want a forever home. Some place where I know I'm here for life.” He barely sees your face, but he notices your mind goes elsewhere. Similar to how you looked back at your dressing room a few weeks ago.

“I understand. It's a nice goal to strive for.”

You turn, flashing him a wide smile. “Thanks.”

You sit on his lap, rolling your hips as you slide your hands up and down his chest. Miguel clenches his hands to resist the urge to touch you. “Now, Mr. Scientist, why did you become one?”

“A geneticist, you mean?”

“Duh.” You continue to roll your hips at the sensual beat.

“Well, I'm good at it.” He states, “And I enjoy it so why not pick a profession you're good at?”

“You have a point.” You get up on your knees, your breasts completely in his face. Your hands run all over his hair, nails creating scratches along his scalp. Miguel shudders, almost letting out a moan. It doesn't help when you lean against his ear to whisper, “That means you're smart, right?”

“Very.”

You lock eyes and he darts down to your full lips, wondering if you were going to kiss him again. Instead, you lean back to create some distance and he hides his disappointment. You two haven't done anything further besides the hand job and the kiss. Which was also because of the rule of no sex inside the club. Miguel did think the start of…whatever they had was going a little fast so he didn't complain.

“I like my men smart.” You state, continuing to trace up and down his chest. He tries not to smile at that, watching you intently. “Shows me you're putting that brain to good use.”

“Of course.”

You giggle, getting off of him completely. “Times up, big guy.”

Miguel stands, not believing how fast time goes when he’s with you. But he hands you your money and watches you tuck it into your bra.

“Thanks. For the talk.”

“You know you don't have to keep thanking me every time we do this.”

“I want to.”

Miguel’s routine was simple. He’d get up early, around five in the morning, do his daily workout, shower, get dressed to go to work, deal with his coworkers and insufferable boss, before going back home to unwind and do it all over again. Occasionally, he’d spend time with his family and check up on friends. Now, he was doing all of that and seeing you.

The days you two agreed on gave him some wiggle room. He knew if he saw you at the club every night would wear him down. Affect his performance at his job. But he was able to manage. Seeing you made his days better, even if they were worse earlier. When he didn’t see you, he was anticipating the time of when he could. Thinking about what conversation topics to bring up. How much money he should pay you this time.

It helped distract the current hell of his life. Because every time he went to work, he had to witness Dana and Tyler together. In front of him.

She's been at the company a lot since the break-up. Almost every day, every hour. Miguel wonders if she works anymore since she spends all her time with Tyler.

Even his coworkers look down on him at the fact he allowed another man to steal his woman. Miguel wanted to explain that he didn’t allow it, it just happened. The fact that Dana went to someone else and left him.

“Is there any more coffee?”

Miguel glanced over to see said ex with a mug in her hand. She stood awkwardly beside him, shyly tucking strands of her brown hair behind her ear. He quickly slid his coffee cup away, giving her access to the pot. “Go ahead, it’s still fresh.”

“Thanks.” As she poured her coffee, Miguel stood there, watching the liquid slowly fill up halfway. On cue, he handed her exactly four creams and two sugars, muscle memory of his time with her kicking in. “Ah, you remembered.”

“It’s easy to.”

Dana shoots him a smile and he doesn’t want to admit that it still warmed him up a little inside. “How have you been?”

Horrible. Miserable. Angry.

“Fine. You?”

“I’ve been good.” She takes a sip, “I’m glad everything’s calmed down now.”

Miguel raises an eyebrow, “Really? Why’s that?”

“You know, the announcement was a big shock and everyone asking me if I’m okay-”

“Right.” He pours himself a cup, realizing there’s not enough coffee to fill it exactly the way he likes. Plus, brewing another pot takes about five minutes. “I can understand how that can be a lot.”

“I’m so glad you do!” She places a gentle hand on his shoulder. He tries to not focus on the extra heat it gave off. “You always understood me.”

“And…Tyler doesn’t?”

“He does!” Dana goes to correct herself, “I’m also saying you do too.”

“Is that the reason why you're with Tyler instead of me?”

She shakes her head, “No, Miguel you know why we're…” Dana rolls her hands as if he knows what she's talking about, “You got busy with work and you know we barely went anywhere. It was always you and not me.”

“That’s a lie.” The grip on his mug got tighter, “I thought I treated you well. I took you out. Bought you gifts. You had my full undivided attention.”

“When we were together, yes, but not recently. It's like you weren't there.”

Miguel didn’t know what to say, his mind going through all the memories they’d had together. Did he neglect her and didn't know it? He let her know he loved her. And he knew that she knew. Was he mistaken?

“It's ok.” Dana squeezed his shoulder, “I've moved on now. You should too.”

She thanked him for the coffee, leaving him in the break room to brew another pot. Miguel wants to blame his father, the biological one whose original identity was sprung on him the day Dana broke up with him. Told by his mother, who thought she was doing him a service. Probably would've been better off if he didn't know.

Would that have made a difference? The main thing he could say was his boss stole Dana from him, not his dad.

He didn't want his talk with Dana to ruin his day. He was supposed to have a family dinner later, with his mom and Gabriel. How they've been more intimate since the passing of his other father. The crazy bastard that Miguel thought they were better off without. And were. To a certain degree.

Hence why everyone was quiet at the table, being the only sound filling the dining room were the clinks of forks amongst the plates. His mind raced as he replayed his conversation with Dana, wondering what he should've said to her.

“Wow, this pasta is good, mami.” Gabriel broke the ice, Miguel not missing his eye glance in an effort to talk to their mother.

“Thank you.” She grins, “I got that recipe from the neighbor down the street and then I put my little spin on it.” Miguel holds in a sigh, his plate looking much better than the conversation. “How was your day, Gabri?”

“Good! I managed to grab a few clients today.” Gabriel boasts about his freelancing job, quickly darting his head to his brother, before going back to their mother. “And yours?”

“Pleasant. I've been thinking about doing some redecorating here. Those home improvement shows have been catching up to me.” She laughs with her son while Miguel prefers to be anywhere else right now. Preferably with you. “What about yours, Miguel?”

He shoots up at his name and his conversation with Dana returns, “It was okay. Still busy with that spider project. Saw Dana-” Miguel slips and drops his fork at the mistake.

“You saw that whore?”

He recognizes the switch in Conchata's tone, “She's not-”

“Whatever she is, why does she have the right to speak to you? After what she did? And with that man out of all people?”

Gabriel snorts, “Right like Miguel’s boss? Complete gold digger, if you ask me.” Miguel and his mother look at each other, knowing what they know now.

“I'd rather we don't talk about her anymore like it just happened.”

“It did just happen!”

“It’s been over a month, ma.” Miguel quickly stands up, “It’s over. We should move on.” The words feel foreign when they escape from his lips. Unsure if he wants to do that himself. “Thanks for dinner.”

He grabs his jacket, ignoring the protests from his brother and mother while walking out. Miguel’s stomach churns, knowing he’s made a mistake participating in the dinner. How he preferred to seclude himself at his apartment. But he hardly makes it out the door when Gabriel stops him.

“Hey, you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

Miguel turns to leave but is stopped by him again, “No, you’re not. You barely spoke tonight.”

“When have I ever spoken that much recently?”

“Right…” Gabriel lets out a nervous laugh. Even he knows the unspoken tension between his older brother and mother. It got worse since the Dana issue but Miguel’s sure it’s been that way since the death of his father.

“I just had a long day.” He says, feeling the complications from his day crashing down on him.

“Anything I can do to help?”

Miguel’s lips flatten, shaking his head. Gabriel takes the hint and finally lets him go.

When he was seeing you twice a week at the club, he also got to know the employees. During your dance on Tuesdays, he often sat at the bar. While he counted twelve dancers, the most notable ones were you, Black Cat, MJ, and Pixie. He watched the patrons request a dance from either one of you, dollar bills rolled up in their hands like they had money to spend.

Surprisingly, he saw Jessica a lot.

He thought it was a coincidence but she primarily hung around the bar, which had a good look at the main club area, the large stage with the pole in the center. Enough to draw a huge crowd and coat the floor in a sea of money. Miguel wondered if he should try to get to know your other coworkers since he was trying to get to know you too. So why not start with the owner?

“Why decide to own a club?”

Jessica purses her lips at Miguel, “Man, just because Silk told you her life story does not mean you get to know about mine.”

“Oh.” He blinks, “Wait a minute, how do you know that?”

“You ask a lot of questions.” She turns to tend to some other customers at the end of the bar while he ponders how many questions he’s asked you. Ben, who was cleaning some glasses, leans over to Miguel.

“She just had a baby. You wanna see?”

“Uh, sure.” He pulls out his phone and shows him a picture of Jess's baby boy. He looked to be a year old, dressed in a bear onesie, practically the spitting image of her. “He’s adorable.”

“Isn’t he?”

“Benny, you better not be showing strangers pictures of my baby.” Jess glares at him, hand on her hip as he quickly puts the phone away.

“Miguel’s not really a stranger, he's been here every week.”

“And you think that automatically makes him my best friend?”

Miguel takes a sip of his water, clearing his throat to remind them he's right there. “You have a cute baby.”

“Thanks.” Pride takes over on Jess’ face, “He came out of me.”

“Even when she was pregnant, I knew she was going to make a cute baby.” Pixie chimed in, practically throwing herself at the bar after finishing another lap dance. The glitter from her brown skin decorating the bar. Miguel saw why that was her stage name due to her pink, pixie haircut. “Can I get some water?”

Ben gave Pixie a wink when Jess came up to her, “No, you didn't.”

“I did. Silk agreed too. That’s why she's my homegirl.” Miguel figured you two were close when he sees the two of you conversing when not performing. Although he's rarely heard you talk about her during the private sessions. Pixie's eyes turn to him as she sips on her water, her dark pink lipstick staining the straw.

“She's right, you do look like a puppy.”

He looks around, “I'm sorry?”

“Silk. She mentions how adorable you look. Like ‘Jess's baby’ adorable.”

“He’s a contender,” Jessica adds while pouring shots.

Miguel’s cheeks get dark at the compliment, “D-Does she talk about me?”

“All the time.” Pixie chuckles, “It's cute. And you're much better than her other regular.”

“Other regular?”

Jess groans out loud. “Do not bring him up. I am this close to banning his ass.”

“But you don't because you said he brings in money.” Ben chimes in, clearly knowing his boss so well.

“She never brings him up,” Miguel states, but why would she? He should've known that other people would want to see you as much as he does.

“For good reason,” Pixie finishes the rest of her drink before fully facing Miguel, “He sucks. He gets handsy but not enough to disrespect the rules. And he's rough. I've seen him kinda handle Silk almost like she's a doll.”

His stomach twists at the idea of a man like that being rough with you. The complete opposite of how he would handle you.

“We have Noir in the room though to make sure he doesn’t do too much.” Jess brings up, “But we end up getting five g’s from it so everybody wins.”

“And complimentary drinks.” Pixie grabs a shot with the rest of the patrons before downing it.

Miguel’s face twists. “He sounds rich.”

“I'd hope he is considering how much he says it.” Jessica rolls her eyes.

Your presence finally graces the bar when you hug Pixie from behind. You two locked eyes in a silent greeting earlier in the night before you took the stage. And he likes how your face lights up when you see him.

“What'd I miss?”

“Tell your man to stop playing twenty-one questions.” Jessica swiftly changes the conversation. He notices you don't even deny it, not getting offended.

“You got a problem with people being curious?”

“I don't as long as they pay more.”

That reminds Miguel to hand you the money for your dance. He admitted to you that he didn't like throwing money, but you told him to cut that mindset out so others wouldn't think he's all high and mighty. The two of you compromised him throwing some money and giving you the rest before he left. Hence why you poked your hip out towards him, letting him slide the money under your waistband.

“Ignore her.” Pixie backs him up, “He is so sweet, I get you completely.”

“I'm still here…” Miguel mutters under his glass while you two giggle.

He doesn't bring up his concerns about your other regular the same night. He sits with it, almost losing sleep at the thought of you being manhandled. You tended to hide your emotions around him and he wasn’t sure what was going to happen if he brought it up to you.

But he decides to tell you about it in your private room. Not willingly. He pretended to watch you dance while staying quiet, brows filled with thought. His ears drown out the beat of the music as he ponders. You plop down on his lap, snapping him out of it.

“My dance boring you, big guy?”

Miguel shook his head, “N-No! I'm sorry, I am watching.”

“Bull.” You fold your arms, “What you thinking about? Your face tells me everything I need to know.” He hesitates, running his sweaty palms along his pants. Miguel wasn’t sure if you'd get mad if he brings it up.

“It's nothing.” He gazes up at you, swallowing.

You squint at him, not believing him. “I told you I'm not your therapist.”

“I know.”

“So I don't care if you're not telling me anything.”

“I'm aware.”

You stand and he expects you to start dancing again. But you don't. Instead, you stare him down. Face full of seriousness, not wanting to continue to your dance until he told you. Miguel thought it was odd, given the fact you told him you didn't care.

“You might get mad at me.”

You squint, “What's wrong?”

“I…didn't know you had another regular.” He wants to look away, afraid that showing his true affection would scare you away. But he doesn’t and notices your form relax.

“Really? You know regulars are a thing, right?”

“I know, but the others were telling me that he gets rough and-” He pauses, not wanting to make the conversation worse.

“Honey, it's fine.” You placate yourself on his lap again. It was much smoother the second time, a sincere emotion in your eyes. “It's part of the job. And you know I wouldn't let anyone touch me like that.”

Miguel leans into your hand on his cheek, your thumb gently tracing it. “I don't like the idea of someone potentially hurting you.”

“Aww, you're worried about me?” He nods and you giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Funny how a guy who doesn't touch me is worried about me.”

Miguel tugs at his pant legs. “I want to.”

“Then why don't you?” You slide your hands down his arms then to his hands, resting on top of them, “You haven't touched me since…” You don't say another word but he knows what you're referring to.

“I didn't want to lose control.”

“I don't bite.” He allows you to pick up his hands, placing them on your wonderful thighs. Miguel voluntarily squeezes the soft flesh while holding back a groan. “See? Doesn't that feel nice?”

“Yes.” He takes a deep breath when you guide him up to your stomach. It's warm to the touch when he experiences the small fat, and how it highlights fairly well against his large hands. Miguel freezes when you pull his hands up to your covered breasts. His pants getting tighter at the feel of you. God, he should be embarrassed.

“I know what your favorite part of me is.” Miguel lowers his head but you don't tolerate that, putting his head back up with the lift of your finger. “You wanna see them?”

He stutters, “C-Can you do that? Are…are you allowed to?”

“Tell me you've never been to a strip club without saying it.” You shake your head as you laugh. And he feels his face getting hot at the offer. “So? Yes or no?”

“Yes.”

You reach behind to unclasp your flashy, bikini top, pulling it off and tossing it aside. Miguel held in a breath as he saw your breasts in their glory. He creates a map of their appearance, admiring how your nipples fit perfectly along your areolas. Miniature bumps decorated around them. His first thought was to run his tongue across them and taste your wonderful skin. He inadvertently licked his lips.

“Ooh, don't do that…”

Miguel shifted, noticing how your low tone didn't match the meaning of your words, “I'm sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You lean forward and he wonders if you're going to kiss him. “Do that again.”

He licks his lips and you bite your own, vocalizing how much you like that. You grab his hands and place them on top of your breasts again -squeezing them to make sure he knows what you feel like. All while you rolled your hips along his erection. Miguel's breath came out shaky, holding himself back. You felt amazing. So perfect underneath his palms. He felt drops of cum leak out of his aching tip.

“We should stop…”

With his luck you stop your movements, “What's wrong? Are you uncomfortable?”

“No. I…” He sighs and removes his hands, “I want to respect the rules.”

“Hand jobs are fine, I told you this.”

Miguel shook his head, “No, not that.”

“Then…?” He runs his hand through his hair, his appearance becoming a bit unkempt. He didn’t want to explain. At least not yet.

“I need to go.”

He knew you were confused as you backed up, allowing him to make his leave. Not before he picked up your top and handed it to you. As well as your money. Miguel fixed his pants to make sure his erection wasn't prominent before saying goodbye to you.

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