I'm shaking. I'm fucking shaking. I never wanted to breed with anyone more than I want to with Nolan Grayson. That perfect, shredded body. The perfectly trimmed mustache. The planet conquering skills of a literal god. It honestly fucking hurts knowing that I'll never mate with him, have him pass his genes through me, and have me birth a set of perfect offspring. I'd do fucking ANYTHING for the chance for Nolan Grayson to get me pregnant. A N Y T H I N G. And the fact that I can't is quite honestly too much to fucking bear. Why would Robert Kirkman create something so perfect? To fucking tantalize us? Fucking laugh in our faces?! Honestly, I just fucking can't anymore. Fuck.
๐๐ป๐ธ๐ฝ๐ฑ๐ฎ๐ป ๐ ๐ป๐ฎ๐ฌ๐ฎ๐ฒ๐ฟ๐ฎ๐ญ ๐๐ธ๐พ๐ป ๐ถ๐ฎ๐ผ๐ผ๐ช๐ฐ๐ฎ ๐๐ฎ๐ต๐ต. ๐๐ฝ ๐ฎ๐๐ฌ๐ฒ๐ฝ๐ฎ๐ผ ๐ถ๐ฎ ๐ฝ๐ธ ๐ฒ๐ท๐ฏ๐ธ๐ป๐ถ ๐๐ธ๐พ ๐ช๐ซ๐ธ๐พ๐ฝ ๐ช ๐ฌ๐ธ๐ฌ๐ด ๐ป๐ฎ๐ผ๐ฎ๐ป๐ฟ๐ฎ, ๐ฏ๐ป๐ฎ๐ฝ ๐ท๐ธ๐ฝ, ๐ฌ๐ธ๐ฌ๐ด ๐๐ฒ๐ต๐ต ๐ซ๐ฎ ๐ผ๐ฎ๐ท๐ฝ ๐๐ธ๐พ๐ป ๐๐ช๐ ๐ผ๐ธ๐ธ๐ท.