#it was very time consuming‚ but so worth it

[cursed-40k-thoughts]

Having read them, did Mitchell's weird thing for describing Keira, a teen girl, and how sexy she was in loving detail feel weird to you too? I brought that up on the Warhammer reddit and people blasted me for being concerned with that and not all the grim darkness.

Yeah, there's a very palpable and understandably discomfiting sense of "this book was written by a dude" that permeates a number of GW's works, especially when it comes to female characters. They've gotten a good bit better about it in the last.... decade? Maybe 8 years? But it's very much an obvious thing.

Like, Felix in Gotrek & Felix is straight up creepy a couple of times, McNeill has a whole history of being weird about women in his novels. Mitchell's descriptions of Keira were uncomfortable, and also he has not good descriptors of Slaaneshi cultists in the Cain novels.

I don't think it's malicious, so much as a clear-cut snapshot of the consequences of GW's historically poor editorial oversight combined with the bulk middle aged Englishman writing force that has only recently been diversified.

It's traceable and painfully obvious looking in and back, but GW has all the turning speed and self awareness of a whale carcass (It's an English company, go figure). So yeah. It is what it is, I suppose. Worth being aware of. Valid being critical of. GW has, historically, spent a lot of its time being too insular for its own good.

Also, word of advice, don't go looking for much objectivity or critical observation on Warhammer subreddits. The people there seem to alternate between having never read a Warhammer novel in their lives and consuming information exclusively from 1d4chan and YouTube shorts. Get a pet fish and talk to it. Probably more beneficial.

[satureja13]

While Sai and Kiyoshi implement the Astromech scanners they'd bought on Batuu into Great A'Tuins systems and Skully and Malfoy watch the bridge,

Vlad is holding Ji Ho in his arms. Ji Ho is still exhausted from traveling and the stress over Winterfest and New Year. Vlad feels over the Bond that he is on the verge of sleep. Since they still haven't figured out how to properly communicate, it's the best time to ask this one question that is haunting him since they left the First Order Headquarter... He would never dare asking Ji Ho this while he's fully conscious. Maybe Ji Ho would even lie to him to not make him upset. But he needs to know. Vlad whispered: "Did he touch you?" ... Ji Ho was already breathing deeply and snuggled even closer: "... don't worry ..."

'Don't worry'?! Vlad expected an honest answer from the core of Ji Ho's unconscious - and all he says is 'don't worry'?! Vlad is even more upset than before. If this Sith touched Ji Ho, he would kill him! They are still in Batuu's orbit until they'll continue their odyssey to hunt down Tiny Can and try to track the meteorites. It's now or never. Kylo and Vlad already dueled before. No one won though. But Vlad feels he'd have the upper hand when he'd let his hatred and wrath consume him. (Yeah, Vlad. That's the exact pathway over to the dark side!)

Vlad got up. He's so upset. He can't lie here beside Ji Ho. His rage would disturb Ji Ho's sleep over the Bond... Lenny also tries to encourage Vlad to follow him so Ji Ho can sleep in peace ^^'

He went to the bridge to tell Sai and Kiyoshi about what happened. But they are busy and only listen half heartedly. Time is money and they can't afford staying here much longer. Parking a ship as huge as Great A'Tuin here at Batuu is expensive as hell! So Skully nudged Vlad to tell him and Malfoy his sorrows... Well, Malfoy and Vlad hadn't the best start and Skully is no one you'll want to have around but Vlad needs to vent or he'll combust ö.Ö'

And of course Sai and Kiyoshi listened. Saiwa: "Gods Vlad! So you finally have Ji Ho in your arms at night. Nothing is holding you back anymore. That's what you ever wished for. You even died for him. And then you do something that stupid? It's as if you don't want to be happy, huh?" Kiyoshi: "I think it's very wise of Ji Ho. Would you love him less if Kylo had touched him? No. So what's the point of knowing? Seeking revenge? And sacrifice the peace we just established? What would be the consequences? For us, the people on Batuu and the diplomatic relationships. Is it really worth it? 'Don't worry' was the best he could say. If he said 'No' you'd feel his worries you might not believe him and his disappointment over you accusing him over the bond and you'd think he lied." Skully: "Man. I always thought such a Bond must be the peak of love and romance. Always knowing how the other feels. But in realtity it's a course!" Then Vlad's phone blared:

'Oh, can't you see You belong to me? How my poor heart aches With every step you take?

Every move you make And every vow you break Every smile you fake Every claim you stake I'll be watching you'

The Police - Every Breath you take Vlad: "How did you do that?" ö.ö But Skully just chuckled. And Malfoy yelled at Vlad - in chicken... And this how they ended this stupid 'Vlad denying himself to be happy' conversation...

Since Vlad (Jack's best friend) and Sai (Jack's oldest friend) are here together, Kiyoshi thought it's time they learn that Jack and him had scratched the 'just' from 'we're mates, just mates'... Kiyoshi: "Jack and I are having a romantic relationship again." ... No one said anything. After all Jack had to go through during his relationship with Kiyoshi and after their break-up. The nightmares and the months of pain. And Kiyoshi also paid for it. 60 years he'd been suffering in this tree... They both almost gave their lives. Kiyoshi also his humanity - almost. But they are fated mates. And even Ms Coombes had to admit that troublemakerJack is the reason why their precious minor deity/demon Kiyoshi is still with them.

Vlad knows how much Kiyoshi loves Jack. They'd spend nights together beside Jack's pod when he was in his coma. So Vlad came to the conclusion that Jack's happyness is the most important and he'll support him in his decision to try again with Kiyoshi. Saiwa though, is worried beyond measure. Jack is like a little brother to him and Sai wants to spare him from getting hurt again... Saiwa: "Omg why?! You just left all that crap behind you just to do it all over again? After you healed Jack from his heat you promised us you won't go down that road again!"

But Sai also knows that nothing can keep Jack from wanting what he wants... Kiyoshi tried to reassure them. Kiyoshi: "I'm truely sorry. We tried. But he's my fated mate - and I'm his Alpha. What are we supposed to do? These bonds are holy and we learned the hard way that they can't be broken. I will take good care of Jack and won't let him down again. And if something goes wrong we'll be honest and won't keep anything from you. No secrets anymore. I love Jack and I want to make him happy."

And what is Sai supposed to say to this? He knows he's beaten. He also wants Jack to be happy. They are both grown-ups (yes, Jack too ^^') so who are they to stop them? So he just said: "Ach!"

Kiyoshi: "I' would like to promise that you won't regret it, but even I can't see the future. But I would give my life for him." Vlad: "Fair enough. That must do. Hm? Sai?" Saiwa sighed from the dephts of his soul.

Outtakes

Ji Ho dreaming of Jeb again...

From the Beginning 🔱 Underwater Love 🔱 Latest

Current Chapter: starts ▶️ here Last Chapter: 'Here comes the Sun' from the beginning ▶️ here

📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 23-29

[helium-stims]

i made an octopus :)

[gretagator]

What if the Joker was blue and orange

[icedb1ackcoffee]

to my fellow creatives: never stop making art. art is an act of protest.

[bluebonnet-witch]

on my lady Jane being cancelled

I’m as mad as everyone else is about this, and I want to say that this is a series where we *can* do something to show Amazon they’ve fucked up. We probably can’t save the show but you know what we can do? Buy the books, buy them from anywhere but Amazon, support the hell out of the source material at a scale that will make them see that they are losing money. If every person who is upset by this cancellation were to go out and buy as much of the book series as they can afford at an indie bookstore or through libro.fm or bookshop, not only will you be supporting the people responsible for something you love, you’ll be giving your dollars to someone who isn’t Amazon. They’ve gone out of their way to fuck over indie bookstores, so fuck them over right back! Support the art you care about as much as you can! If you can’t afford the books request them from your local library! And at the end of the day, no show cancellation can take those books from you once you have them.

[thatsapphicsoprano]

I kinda want to start a Jane Austen club at my university !! but I don’t know if I would have the time to commit to running it and I don’t know if anyone would join… but I’ve been thinking about it and I think it could be fun ??? 

[turkeydinner-jpeg]

(⁠☆⁠▽⁠☆⁠)

[shikai-the-storyteller]

I know Quackity said "Don't stress if you can't watch every single POV and if you don't know all the lore" and all that, but it genuinely frustrates me so much that I cannot, realistically, know every single detail of the QSMP storyline. Even trying to just focus on the "main" story isn't possible since so many people are doing things tied to it, and so many unexpected things happen.

I don't really have a point to make with this post, I'm just venting my frustrations. I like knowing complete stories and knowing I can't do that with QSMP frustrates me so much.

[thotcontagion]

working on him AGAIN (vertex group and weight paint issues)

i feel like i might be able to work on toggles pretty soon, so i'm anxious to work on that aspect

[the-valiant-valkyrie]

Looks at the pre-constant wigfrid tea,,, also looks at how things might go if they ever do go out of the constant,,,,

adelaide (her hc real name for those who are new here) went through an entire metamorphosis from her time in the real world, to first entering the constant, to when she actually became wigfrid as we know her today. however, just because they're 'different people' doesn't mean that you can't see flickers of one in the other, or vice versa.

where there are some people (her audience, mainly) who adelaide would bend to the whims of almost immediately, beyond that she had a surprisingly strong spine. it took a lot of effort and will to claw her way to the position she had, and she did all of that on her own. it stands to reason you'd learn to stand your ground on most things (again, audience) after long enough of that.

however, um. the thing abt adelaide is that. she hates herself. and wigfrid loves herself. which makes it pretty difficult to share a lot of qualities with adelaide, when remembering adelaide too deeply makes you loose your damn mind. it's why wigfrid needs to keep the persona up. really, it's far thinner than most of the survivors would expect it to be… beyond having a better survival instinct and speaking without the accent, wigfrid reverting back to her old self wouldn't really change her by an astronomical amount.

If she were forced to go back to the real world… forced to be adelaide again. i think all of it would feel like a fever dream. i don't think she would really know how to be adelaide anymore- how to be anyone other than the persona she spent so long crafting. she's spent far too long conforming to a script to go off-book now. i think it would turn her into a paranoid recluse honestly

[nonokoko13]

Why can't people like a celebrity without imagine them as queer? Can't people like Taylor music without go saying she's lesbian/queer when she hasn't said anything about that. Pretty sure if she was attracted to women she would have already said it 🫠

Even in the hypothetical scenario where she was queer indeed pressuring somebody to come out or out them yourself is selfish, stupid, dangerous, toxic and overall fucked up (-᷅_-᷄)

We have so many queer pop icons out of the closet but you need to headcanon your favourite ally/het as lgbt for...comfort reasons? Just because she's your fav? Because you are queer? Dude she's not a fictional character can you not spread false information or discuss real people orientations and just enjoy their content 💀

all goofing aside I genuinely don't understand the urge to reimagine Taylor Allison Swift as a secretly queer icon when the pop music scene(TM) is like. literally overflowing with women who actually like women. Gaga and Kesha and Miley and Halsey are right there. Rina Sawayama and Hayley Kiyoko and Rebecca Black and Kehlani and Victoria Monét and Miya Folick if you're willing to get slightly less top 100. Janelle and Demi for them nonbinary takes on liking girls. like what are we doing here. like I'm not even saying you can't enjoy Taylor but why would you hang all your little gay hopes on her.

[stellacendia]

I used to think that the only thing I learned in photography class is that I don't like photography as much as I thought I did, until I started going through old pictures from (years) before that class and I realize I did learn something else after all

[shadow4-1]

"Can you just pretend to love me tonight? Please?"

Simon's never gotten a request like this before.

He's never had any qualms about selling his body. Whether it was for his cock, units of his blood plasma, or his war honed body. He's always done what he's had to - anything to stay off the streets and keep a full belly.

The girls who've paid him always wanted a brute, someone to mount them and take them for all they were worth. That was what he was used to, not some doe-eyed sweet thing begging him to be gentle.

"I want to feel loved." You admit, leaning back on the motel bed, thighs crossed in nervousness. "I um...I know I'm not very pretty-"

Simon leans forward on his knees and kisses you gently. Well, he tries to. The tip of your teeth graze painfully together as he mouths you. You squeak beneath him, hands going up to his shoulders to try and push him off on rabbit instinct. He pulls his mouth off of you just enough to mutter an apology.

"Sorry." He swallows.

You look up at him with impeccably beautiful eyes brimming with tears. You seem to finally understand there's nothing gentle about him even when he tries to be. Simon wants you to call him off, send him out of the cheap hotel. He knows he can't be as sweet at you want - as you deserve. He's just physically not built for that. At least, he's sure of it nowadays. He has a brief memory of holding his newborn nephew but it slips away just as quickly as it came.

"Can we just...go slow?" You ask again. Simon can hear the waver in your voice. You're unsure if you want to continue, but you seem to trust him for some reason. "Really, really slow?"

"Yeah."

He can do slow. He can do glacial. If there's one thing he can do, it's be measured, methodical. He wasn't a Lieutenant for nothing.

For the first time in years, he takes his time. He's used to the fast paced, hungry fucks that pay his rent in thirty minutes. This is...new, not wholly uninvited. He kisses down your collarbone, down the swell of your breasts. He nips at the lacy fabric (you dressed up for him when he was expecting just to rip it all off) as he makes his way down further. He laps at the skin beneath your belly button, making your belly flutter. Ticklish. He likes that.

Simon noses his way between your thighs, easily spreads your legs with his thick forearms. As he kisses down your cloth covered mound he admits he likes how you smell. Usually the taste of women turns him off. He prefers men, but desperate women pay more. You're desperate alright, although its a different type of desperation. Something about the nervous wetness staining your new panties has his cock jumping in his trousers. He presses his nose to the fabric, inhales deeply, and relishes in your shy squeak. Simon starts to understand your desire.

You want to be explored, mapped, and consumed slowly. You want to give up control but feel as if you can stop at any moment. You want to be seen, tasted, then completely devoured.

Instead of slipping your panties to the side, he licks his way down your thighs. You squeal and try to squirm away from the sudden sensation but he doesn't stop. He kisses down your calves and across the top of your feet. His hands are so large that they wrap around your soles completely. Simon pushes them up until they're up by your ears. He knows the position is uncomfortable for you, but he likes the view of your soft, cloth covered mound.

He nips at the back of your ankles and calves, licks down the expanse of your thighs, ans nuzzles into the gusset of your panties. Simon relishes in the squeaks and gasps ans twitches of your expectant body. It's been so long since he's teased someone, much less a sweet lil' thing like you.

Your scent is heady, comforting, nothing like he's experienced before. He finds he really likes just inhaling you in. You whimper, thighs shaking already. He hasn't even licked you yet. Simon finally admits to himself that you're stroking his ego.

He plants a firm, sweet kiss to your cloth covered cunt. The fabric is practically soaked through. He can smell your taste on the tips of his lips. His curiosity wins. He takes a firm, long lick from bottom to top. Simon tastes you, but also the flowery tang of your favorite fabric softener. You taste good. He wants more.

Simon finally releases his hold on your thighs. On instinct, or perhaps strain, they fall apart. You try to sit up but he tugs your body further towards the edge of the bed. He can feel the tension in his old knees from kneeling, but he ignores it. You've opened up your body to him. He wants to take full advantage of it.

Simon goes back to lapping at your clothed cunt. He doesn't stop until his tongue is raw from brushing repeatedly over the stitches. Drool drips down his chin.

"Off."

You huff in confusion, trying to sit up. Instead. With too easy of a tug, off come your panties. There you are. Simon knows he should slow his movements but he doesn't care. You haven't stopped him yet, and he'll be damned if he doesn't get those sweet lips in his mouth. He spreads you apart with his middle and forefinger. You're a sight to behold. Perhaps not pornstar perfect anatomy, but you're delicious looking nonetheless. He eyes your glistening, dripping slit. As bad as he wants to force his tomgue deep inside you, instead he presses a firm kiss to the hood of your clit. You jolt, trying to back away or pull him closer, he can't tell.

Simon follows your movement. He mouths hungrily at your clit, flattens his tongue and practically drools against it. He laps at you with a muted fervor. He doesn't want to hurt you. He can tell you're sensitive. It must've been awhile since the last time you'd had a man willingly do this for you. A damn shame.

Your shaky little moans are like music to Simon's ears. He follows them like a map. He circles your clit, traces the entrance of your hood, even dips lower to tease the sides of your inner lips. You seem to like that alot based on the sounds you make. He sucks on your inner wings and you squeal, thighs wrapping hard around the sides of his head. He does it again and and again until you're hiccuping in delight. Your slick drips down his chin and throat. You're such a good girl for him.

Simon knows he's going to make you cum, it's just a matter of time and technique. He has both on his side. He uses his other hand to pet at your entrance. He tries to commit your anatomy to memory, and so he takes his time dipping the pads of his fingers against your fluttering slit. Despite it obviously having been awhile, your cunt holds no resistance. In fact, it practically swallows up the tip of his middle finger. Fuck yeah, that's what he likes to see.

With measured ease, Simon slips his whole finger inwards and upwards inside of you. You keen and gasp and he can feel your insides twitching. You're tight. So tight he can feel his finger already starting to cramp up from the resistance.

If he's going to fuck you right he's still got some work to do.

[reasonsforhope]

Ancient redwoods recover from fire by sprouting 1000-year-old buds

Article | Paywall free

When lightning ignited fires around California’s Big Basin Redwoods State Park north of Santa Cruz in August 2020, the blaze spread quickly. Redwoods naturally resist burning, but this time flames shot through the canopies of 100-meter-tall trees, incinerating the needles. “It was shocking,” says Drew Peltier, a tree ecophysiologist at Northern Arizona University. “It really seemed like most of the trees were going to die.”

Yet many of them lived. In a paper published yesterday in Nature Plants, Peltier and his colleagues help explain why: The charred survivors, despite being defoliated [aka losing all their needles], mobilized long-held energy reserves��sugars that had been made from sunlight decades earlier—and poured them into buds that had been lying dormant under the bark for centuries.

“This is one of those papers that challenges our previous knowledge on tree growth,” says Adrian Rocha, an ecosystem ecologist at the University of Notre Dame. “It is amazing to learn that carbon taken up decades ago can be used to sustain its growth into the future.” The findings suggest redwoods have the tools to cope with catastrophic fires driven by climate change, Rocha says. Still, it’s unclear whether the trees could withstand the regular infernos that might occur under a warmer climate regime.

Mild fires strike coastal redwood forests about every decade. The giant trees resist burning thanks to the bark, up to about 30 centimeters thick at the base, which contains tannic acids that retard flames. Their branches and needles are normally beyond the reach of flames that consume vegetation on the ground. But the fire in 2020 was so intense that even the uppermost branches of many trees burned and their ability to photosynthesize went up in smoke along with their pine needles.

Trees photosynthesize to create sugars and other carbohydrates, which provide the energy they need to grow and repair tissue. Trees do store some of this energy, which they can call on during a drought or after a fire. Still, scientists weren’t sure these reserves would prove enough for the burned trees of Big Basin.

Visiting the forest a few months after the fire, Peltier and his colleagues found fresh growth emerging from blackened trunks. They knew that shorter lived trees can store sugars for several years. Because redwoods can live for more than 2000 years, the researchers wondered whether the trees were drawing on much older energy reserves to grow the sprouts.

Average age is only part of the story. The mix of carbohydrates also contained some carbon that was much older. The way trees store their sugar is like refueling a car, Peltier says. Most of the gasoline was added recently, but the tank never runs completely dry and so a few molecules from the very first fill-up remain. Based on the age and mass of the trees and their normal rate of photosynthesis, Peltier calculated that the redwoods were calling on carbohydrates photosynthesized nearly 6 decades ago—several hundred kilograms’ worth—to help the sprouts grow. “They allow these trees to be really fire-resilient because they have this big pool of old reserves to draw on,” Peltier says.

It's not just the energy reserves that are old. The sprouts were emerging from buds that began forming centuries ago. Redwoods and other tree species create budlike tissue that remains under the bark. Scientists can trace the paths of these buds, like a worm burrowing outward. In samples taken from a large redwood that had fallen after the fire, Peltier and colleagues found that many of the buds, some of which had sprouted, extended back as much as 1000 years. “That was really surprising for me,” Peltier says. “As far as I know, these are the oldest ones that have been documented.”

... “The fact that the reserves used are so old indicates that they took a long time to build up,” says Susan Trumbore, a radiocarbon expert at the Max Planck Institute for Biogeochemistry. “Redwoods are majestic organisms. One cannot help rooting for those resprouts to keep them alive in decades to come.”

-via Science, December 1, 2023

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Cult. [M]

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Raw Dogging, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Implied Unwanted Pregnancy, Power Imbalance, Big Dick! Ghost, Soft Dom! Ghost, Cult Leader! Ghost, Submissive (and Breedable)! Reader, Implied Abortion Attempt, Fem Reader, Profanity.

He’s filthy in the way he treats you, like a common whore, spreading you out over his desk – once-varnished mahogany, now bleached with weeks’ worth of spend, of tears, rubbed raw in places, the phantoms of many a night relentless under your leader – and bearing your body like it’s his god-given duty.

In essence, it is. Albeit, a god he created – fabricated – to lead lambs into a wolf’s den. And with the primal, savage way he forces himself into you, his tip pulsing and throbbing with the many hours he’s subjected you to, you can very well believe he is the very image of a predator.

“Won’t stop ‘til you’re full – ‘til it’s– fuck– ‘til it’s taken,” Simon pants, his shadow cloaking you, the sweat from his broad chest dripping down onto your sodden back. Your cheek is pressed into the desk, and in the corner of your vision, between the narrowed eyes you fight to keep open amidst the electric annihilation sparking between your legs, just below your stomach, you see him with bared teeth and dark eyes that glint with some unholy purpose. A purpose that only makes the feeling writhing inside you stronger, heavier.

With a deft hand – his other planted by your head, a cage – he finds your clit and presses it between two fingers as if it were the stub of a cigarette. He squeezes. Hard. 

Your lips quiver around him and a strangled moan escapes you, euphoria becoming you, possessing you as something had him. 

You keen on his hand, desperate for contact, for friction, despite him already filling you utterly and without mercy. Your arousal drips into his hand, pools in his palm. It takes all his will not to drink it then and there.

“I know, Doll–” ‘Doll’ – the name he’d given you, the name that reminds you you’re his to use as he pleases. His fingers squeeze your clit between them, a flesh vice. You’re gasping. He doesn’t stop, subjecting you to a pleasure so carnal you know only he can grant you it.

His free hand finds your shoulder, slips down your soaked back – a collage of brutal love-making, of animal rutting, of feral and incessant breeding – leaving goosebumps in its wake. He finds your rump, squeezes it, his hand flipping further between your legs until he finds your epicentre.

You’re so sensitive, and so swollen. He’s done this enough times to know that you’re red there, too.

He finds the spot where you’re connected, the modest sliver of his shaft that hasn’t been consumed by your wanting hole – where your combined arousal slithers out of you, dripping down his tightening ballsack – and plays at the edges of your lips, those that create a milky ring at the base of his cock, those that twitch with the almost overwhelming orchestra of sensations he is subjecting you to, playing you as his instrument.

Your hips twitch, pushing back against him, inadvertently impaling yourself on the inch or two he’d spared you from. 

He’s swollen – painfully so. Plugging you, preventing you from getting away. Something you realise all-too late as you try to pull away, to ease the searing ache in your lips, in your womb.

You’re crying, he’s grunting, throat raw with hours of praise, of nothing short of feral growling – curses to something other than his god.

You whine as he withdraws his hand from between your legs, instead coming to cup your breasts and pull you flush against his chest.  Squeezing around him again, the bulge of his cock inside you becomes ever more apparent when his hand slips up to your throat and he shunts you forward with his hips.

You’re weak – a ragdoll against him – and you’re pushed back down against the wood. He presses your stomach to the desk, your head now handing over the edge.

“D’you feel it, love?” he rasps. “Gonna give you a baby – put it right there.”

You do feel him, like an eel, slithering into any space he can, any space he hasn’t already occupied. You feel your heartbeat pulsing between your legs, and you feel his in the head of his dick, rabid. You want to sob, want the pleasure coursing through your every fibre to overwhelm you, to send you hurtling into a high nobody else can give you.

But you know this will have consequences.

You know there’s no morning after pill strong enough to overcome Simon’s seed, none strong enough to stand a chance against the sheer amount of his spend. You know this because you’re already pregnant.

You’d originally tried using a multitude of contraband substances – pills, medication, anything you could get your hands on – to stop the inevitable. To prolong it just long enough for you to find a way out of the hole you’d dug yourself into.

When Simon had found them – no doubt with the help of one of his disciples, one eager to please and who would settle for the simple pleasure of being the dirt beneath his boot – he made absolutely certain to undo all your hard work.

For days afterwards, when he gave his sermons, you had to stand, hands clasped in prayer, with his cum rolling down your thighs beneath your compound-issue garments.

 And despite how you know you don’t want this destiny he’s imparted upon you, you still urge your hips against his. Especially as you feel him twitching, your hole leaking and almost squealing with his semen and the memory of the many times he’s already pumped you full this same night. He’s ready to bust at any moment, ready to find and create any excuse to empty his load into you, his favourite disciple.

You finish first in a fit of euphoric fury, an outpouring of devotion, a static explosion that leaves you utterly spent and entirely limp, unable to move as Simon continues to pummell you, using you, not stopping until you hear him give nothing less than a guttural roar, throwing his head back as he empties every ounce of his spend into you.

Any chances of escaping, any hopes of the world beyond the company you’d embroiled yourself in – they’re all gone now. Knocked clean out your head and from your reach, your mind nothing but a post-haze. You feel full almost to the point of bursting, but your body settles for a ballooned discomfort in your middle. One which you know will only grow bigger and heavier over the coming months. And no doubt beyond that when Simon deems you capable – worthy – of bearing him more offspring.

Simon is panting behind you, hands planted either side of you, head hanging between heaving shoulders. As if he’s impregnated you with his very soul.

His hand slips across the desk down to your front, where he manages to levy his fingers between your exhausted form and the hard wood beneath. And, as if by divine intuition, he gives a hum. Presses a languid kiss to your exposed neck, uttering a “Well done, love.”

He’s going to be a father.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad X