I Love It When Educated Bitches Start Talking. Like Im Ace, But Your Objectivity Is A Huge Turn On.

I love it when educated bitches start talking. Like I’m ace, but your objectivity is a huge turn on.

Currently giving into the desire to write about cannibalism and abuse

More men need tits

Gee whiz the fics sure didn’t prepare me for this

My mom’s fixation on the current size of my chest at any given time is looking kinda pedo-y. It’s giving incest, more than it’s giving transphobe :T

The hand is what fucked me up. It’s just such a small thing, but such a loud detail. Crowley pulls him in, kisses him deep, and desperate, and anguished, and longing, and Aziraphale flounders. His hand quivers and moves without any idea what he’s supposed to do; he’s at a loss. He’s shocked, and confused, and the whiplash of going from trying to convince Crowley he’s gotten them everything they could ever want, to this. To everything he doesn’t know how deal with, and never expected. And yet. His hand stops. He plants it firm on Crowley’s back, and for just a moment, he presses into to kiss too. He know this is what he wants; he can feel it. That instant is everything, yet somehow it meant nothing, because it was only a terribly fleeting moment inside a terribly fleeting moment.