'The Imperium is the only way humanity can survive in 40k' The Imperium is WHY humanity is doomed in 40k.
The whole point is that their stupid fascist take over and genocide of 99% of xenos races that could have potentially been allies resulted in them being stuck alone with the other 1% of races that are brutal and terrifying enough to survive as mortal enemies.
The whole point is that their stupid facist empire is so rotten to the core, so miserable and empty in fullfilment that people willingly sell their souls to one of four super satans and their color coded hells just to HAVE something else.
The whole point is that their stupid fascist philosophy will regularly kneecap any attempts at reform or efficency, even if it's an outright improvement with no holds bar because they are so backwards and zealous they would rather scream heresy and demand executions.
It is a rotting empire, trapped in a hell of its own making, with no way out and slowly crumbling from within and without. And GOOD for that too.
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okay. Hear me out..this has been in my head for the past week. A bully getting dicked down by someone who he thought was an easy target.
[ warning: mating press, no aftercare]
An absolute ass of a bully tormenting his high school, literally just your average joe ass guy. One day he’s pushing people in lockers, slappin’ lunch trays out of hands yadayada.. until someone stops him and that someone is you! The new student.
He’s obviously pissed, so the next few days he’s only targeting you. You obviously notice with your little nerd self and decide to confront him because you also obviously have very big balls.
He soon finds out later that you having big balls was in fact not a metaphor, but is quite literally the cold dark solid truth.
_______
So soon he was folded with his knees to his shoulders, absolutely howling and crying like a pornstar while you drill your girth balls deep into his boypuss.
“Oh! Oh! Please Mr. Bully! ‘S too much! Ah! So mean mister-“ you cut him off with a thrust, a clap echoed through the room. Your palms pushed down the small cup underneath his knees, keeping him trapped and unable to escape the pleasure consuming him.
Your unbelievably heavy balls smacked with every thrust.
“Yeah? Should have thought twice before saying all those mean things huh? Yeah you- mn. Better say sorry.” You groaned as he threw his head back.
“Now this bully, is gonna bully his scary cock into ya. So take all my seed.” You bit your lip, using one of your free hands to slick back your hair with the sweat dripping from your temple before pushing your palms back on his legs again.
He shook his head, “no! ‘s so dirty please mister have m-ah! Mercy!” He begged, though you saw metaphoric hearts form in his eyes.
You scoffed, pushing one last time before squirting your cum into him. He mewled, eyes squeezing shut.
You pulled out and smacked his thigh, leaving him with cum dripping from his used and abused cunt, only cleaning yourself up while u just threw him a wet rag and left.
——-
I mean hey, it ain’t my best. But, that’s how u gotta treat bullies.
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Warnings: This has nonconsent and somnophilia. Please do not read if these elements or any dark elements make you uncomfortable.
Character: Ransom Drysdale
Summary: you continue to terrorize Ransom.
Please reblog if you enjoy and leave some feedback! Muah 💋
You don’t bother closing your laptop as your mother pushes open your door. You sit against the headboard of your bed, ankles crossed, computer open as you scroll through a page of lingerie. You don’t know if it’s your thing but they have some stuff for men that makes you cackle.
“What do you want?” You say without looking up. Your vibrator rolls against your thigh, hidden by the rumpled blankets. It’s her own fault for not knocking.
“Hmph. Hi honey, so lovely to see you too,” she says dryly.
“Aren’t you going to Palm Springs or something?” You ask without looking up.
“Can’t I just come to check in on my daughter?” She challenges.
“No, because you don’t do that,” you shake your head.
“Family business,” she says.
“Oh, are we having a conference? Dad’s still down south. In more ways than one, I’m sure.”
“You are so fucking–” She stops herself then claps her hands together. She enters and stops at the foot of your bed. “It’s more of a… girls’ thing.” She puts her hands on her hips. “You know that Linda stopped in the other day…”
“She was oddly chipper,” you drone as you type into the search bar.
“Mm, she’s… fun.” She preens. “I was just wondering… you’re a bit younger than her son but, you know him, right?”
You stop and look up from the pages of cock extenders. Not that Ransom needs it but you love a challenge. You tend to aim high.
“Why?” You ask.
“Just… curious. I don’t really know what you get up to, you know?”
“I’m an adult.”
“Yes, but you live in my house–”
“I offered to find a condo. In fact, I had a lease lined up–”
“That’s tacky. A condo? Alone?” She chides.
You roll your eyes. “What do you want to know about Hugh Drysdale?”
“So you do know him?” She grins.
“I guess. He’s around. But he’s old as shit. Like forty or something.”
“Thirty-eight. Not that old, honey.”
Honey? What the fuck? You close the laptop.
“What the hell do you want?” You hiss.
“Nothing!” She throws her hands up. “I’m trying to… connect with you.”
“No, you want something. Something about the Thrombey idiots.”
“They’re not– they have esteem behind them.”
“Linda’s daddy got lucky with a book,” you sneer.
“And? He made an empire.” Your mother rebuffs.
“They’re fucking broke,” you snort. “You know that, right? Grandpappy cut them off the teat–”
“Do you need to be so crass?” She gasps.
“Please, don’t lecture me about etiquette.” You put the computer aside. “Why don’t you go and see Paulo or whatever? Or is it Neil? Not sure why you’d be messing with that pencil dick but–”
“Enough!” She shrieks. “Oh you are a nasty little thing.”
“Apple barely fell.”
She growls. “Oh, oh, oh!” She fists her hands. “You are vile.”
“Whatever you and Linda talked about, it’s a no. I don’t wanna marry anyone, especially not some overgrown brat like Hugh fucking Drysdale.” You stand up and stretch your arms above you. “Once daddy has his heart attack, I’m packing my bags.”
She makes several noises as she wades through the stages of grief. She snarls and spins on her heels, storming out in a huff. She slams the door as you strut into your walk-in closet. There’s no way you’re helping those idiots get back on the will. You just want to play with him a little longer.
💰
“Hugh,” you flip your sunglasses up as you lean your arm through the window of your car. He stops short as he barely keeps from sloshing his coffee through the lid of the cup. His nostrils flare.
“You’re starting to come off desperate,” he snickers.
“Maybe,” you shrug and tap your fingers on the metal. His cheeks are rosy from the nip of autumn in the air. “You cold, Drysdale?”
“I’m fucking toasty. I’m sure you’re just dying to lick the sweat of my sack, specs.”
“I’m cutting back on the sodium,” you arch a brow. “You like Havana or Turks and Caicos?”
He narrows his eyes and takes a swig of coffee. He curls his lip. It’s not good coffee.
“I like those shoes,” you look down at the velvet loafers with the gold buckle. “New?”
“Fuck off,” he sniffs.
“All yours. Too big for me.” You taunt. “Hugh, I’m not too proud to beg.”
He shakes his head. “No, you deluded.”
“I fucking am. You know, I’ve been listening to our little… soundtrack. It’s spicy. But you know, the rabbit isn’t doing it justice.”
“Jesus fuck,” he grumbles and shifts in his loafer. You smirk.
“Pants getting tight?” You ask.
“Not for you.”
“Uh huh?” You reach to move his jacket. Oh yeah, he fucking hard. He jerks away.
“Don’t fucking touch me.” He smacks your hand.
“I’ll buy you a real latte. Hell, I’ll blow you while you drink it.”
“Shit, holy–” He grimaces. “You really have no shame, do you?”
“You mentioned licking first.”
He stares at you, his blue eyes tinting with his thoughts. His cheeks get redder and you don’t think it’s the temperature. He looks down at the coffee and sniffs it. He wrinkles his nose.
He twists on his heel and tosses the cup. The coffee spills over the pavement and splashes a passerby. He ignores their agitated snarls. He struts around to the passenger side as you flip the locks. He drops into the low seat and his teeth chatter.
“Turks and Caicos,” he says as he sinks down into the leather, feeling the wooden paneling of the dash with his fingers. “I didn’t think this thing was legit.”
“Vintage. All original,” you assure him as you crank the shifter. “Get that dick out and start stroking,” you command. “I haven’t had breakfast.”
