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Happy happy pride from me to you, darlings! 🌈💖✨♥️🌈

Here, have an utterly unhinged one shot born from a ridiculous idea that bloomed into fucking 10k BECAUSE OF COURSE IT DID.

Crowley is tired of the trials and tribulations that come with shaving, so he goes to a queer friendly studio to try out sugaring. He didn't expect the discomfort of the procedure to feel so good, though, so good that he squirts for the very first time in his life, and all over the gorgeous technician with the fluffy halo of curls and black gloves that have Crowley reeling. However, the embarrassment of the moment quickly turns into something more, and that is how Anthony Crowley ends up being fisted on the table till he comes harder than he ever has before.

The original title of this doc was "accidental squirting turns into ethically questionable yet thoroughly consensual fisting", if you need any more idea of what it all entails.

Thank you to @interesting-egg and the rest of my depraved cohort for the title help and inspo, this is my first and likely only time I will ever use Fallout Boy lyrics for a title but there is a first time for everything!

I hope you’ll enjoy this debauched drabble featuring a meet cute between a very slutty bottom transmasc Crowley and an Aziraphale once again in gloves to reawaken our glove kinks and ridiculousness wrapped in real care and desire. They wanted to have sex so they did and it was perfect and everything was beautiful ✨💦🤌🏻

Read sugar, we’re goin’ down (fisting) here!

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we could go for a picnic

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I forgive you

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🪄

art for march’s prompt! - almost kiss :3

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Ineffable husbands doodles

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*SPOILERS 2025 BAFTAS*

The gorgeous David Tennant ❤️‍🔥

Looks of the BAFTA

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Made for the Italian P0rn Fest #18, with the prompt ☆ French Revolution, culottes and barricades ☆

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Would you like tea or wine?

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Will this good boy be trained by his master?

You can find the entire bundle in my P-on's shop, or become a member to unlock many more spicy situations!

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I'm woefully behind on reblogging all the awesomeness, so apologies for that, but at least it's still Friday!!

The prompt for Week 26 is:

Chance.

Do they stumble into one another on the street? Are they gambling with something? (Clothes? *Cough* who said that?) Is there a coin toss? You tell me!

If you want to contribute to the collection, the link is here:

https://archiveofourown.org/collections/WeekTwentySix_Chance

Tags:

@interesting-egg @naturallyteal @bumblee27 @czitara @martinsharmony @ineffable-xenanigans @ineffably-queer-book-lover @dierama-mojo @lickthecowhappy @eybefioro @goodoldfashionednightingale @depraveddame @theriverspath @crowleys-hips @rat-wonderings

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LOUDER FOR THE PEOPLE AT THE BACK!

Everything in this statement rings true for me as well.

I WILL NOT SYMPATHISE WITH BULLIES. And if you want to then reevaluate your standing but do not interact or justify their bullshit in my eye line.

I will continue to lift up creators for the content they are providing us in most cases for free, and the fact that people thought it ok to cut them down.

to echo Ox-

FUCK ALL THE WAY OFF

I wish nothing but the most inconvenient things to follow you every day, for every piece of clothing to be itchy, for every piece of food or drink be either too hot or too cold, for your life to be unpleasantly uncomfortable until you learn to be a nice fucking person

PSA: Hey. CW: Cussing.

if you are out here asking us not to ostracize bullies in our midst and asking us to consider the feelings of those bullies, you can join them. GTFOH. They can get fucked, and so can you. I don't care how they feel. I'm out here trying to comfort writers and artists and fans and friends who shared their hearts and souls with you and them, and came away ashamed. Scared. Not knowing who they can trust or how they will again, or IF. From the bottom of my vast and ancient fandom elder heart, from the bottom of my deep and bilious gullet: FUCK you. FUCK your cruelty and your ugliness and your hate. I hope it FOLLOWS you. I hope it haunts you. You deserve it.

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Azi baby

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reminder that good omens is a trans allegory before it’s a biblical one.

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Chapters 8 and 9 of Bring Your Seed to Blossom have been posted!

I forgot to post about chapter 8 last week, so sorry!

Chapter 8 features the first of several flashbacks that will be featured in this fic, and chapter 9 is the heaviest of the story thus far. Please, please read the notes for chapter 9 before reading.

Chapter 8 Excerpts:

“So…Morning Star Counselling?” Crowley asked, shifting his weight on the stormy grey, tufted leather sofa as he sat across from Dr Morningstar, absentmindedly drumming his painted fingernails on his stocking clad knee (he had another session straight after this one that was of a another therapeutic nature entirely; no time to change beforehand, and the fishnets he wore under his inky black jeans were peeking out through the torn knees of the denim, more so than he’d realized until he sat down approximately two minutes ago to begin his first official appointment) “bit serendipitous, having a last name made for a therapy practice, innit?”

His busy fingers moved onto the black elastic hair band on his wrist, plucking and twisting it as he changed positions again; Crowley was a fidgety person by nature, but for some reason, that trait was amplified tenfold within this office to a highly questionable degree.

*

He glanced up from his book, leveled the most devastating smile at Aziraphale and murmured, the whisper of a smirk playing around his upturned lips, “‘bout time you came over and introduced yourself, love; you had me thinking you might’ve been a ghost.”

Aziraphale chuckled in spite of himself as he stared down into those sea glass eyes, and as he sat down at the behest of the other’s invitation, the blonde introduced himself.

“Sebastian Barclay, but I go by Seb,” he declared with that dazzling smile as he ran his fingers through his hair, and Aziraphale replied, his voice irritatingly higher than normal and possibly obscured by his heart thudding around in his throat, “I’m Aziraphale Fell, and I’m afraid I don’t have the luxury of a decent shortened moniker.”

Chapter 9 Excerpt:

“Have you ever…spoken with someone, about your experience with your ex? With a therapist, or a counsellor of some sort?” He kept his tone gentle and curious, concerned how Crowley may interpret such a question as possibly being judgemental or negative in any way, but before he even finished his query, Crowley tensed against him; his shoulders and torso turned rigid against Aziraphale’s chest and stomach, and his long legs drew up from their elongated position on the sofa, shrinking into himself as he took a shallow, shuddering breath, and Aziraphale’s heart dropped into that icy depth it always found whenever Crowley was anxious or afraid.

“Crowley?” he whispered, stricken with guilt over putting stress back into Crowley’s limbs so soon, for failing to lessen his pain and discomfort and instead renewing it, “I’m— forgive me, my dear, I don’t mean to overstep—”

“You didn’t,” Crowley’s reply was adjacent to monotone as he disentangled himself from Aziraphale, sitting up and slowly angling forward as he folded his legs at the knee, “I— I s’pose it’s time you know.”

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snow ❄️😇😈