I Wish I Could Hibernate Like A Bear.

Gahly i wrote this when i was so drowsy

Ppl be asking where is the rest of the story, Go watch game of thrones sequel on neftlix😼

The urge to write about Sir David Walker burns like an unshakable fire.

Knight! hesh!

MDNI

A knight of unwavering loyalty, he carries himself with the noble grace of a natural-born leader. Time after time, as he removes his iron helmet, the details of his face come into sharper focus. His pale skin contrasts strikingly with the deep green of his eyes, and as the strands of his jet-black hair fall free, they frame his features with an almost effortless elegance. Each glimpse of him without the armor only reveals more of the man beneath—the warrior, the leader, the legend.

Each time he kneels before the king, one hand pressed firmly over his heart, it is as if he is making an unspoken vow—one of unwavering sacrifice, of blood and sweat pledged to whatever land he stands upon. His voice, low and steady, carries the weight of his devotion, each word dripping with formal reverence and gratitude. There is no hesitation, no faltering; only the ironclad promise of a knight who lives and breathes duty.

But then, with a voice like silk, you summon him to the king’s chambers. He approaches with the grace of a knight, but the moment his eyes meet yours, his entire demeanor shifts. His green eyes, once steady and fierce, now lower in respect, his body instinctively dropping to one knee before you, his hand over his heart in silent oath.

“Your grace,” he says, his voice unwavering yet soft, as if to show no weakness.

You lead him forward, your steps deliberate. He follows—trusting, obedient—until the door shuts behind him with a cold, final click.

He freezes.

His eyes flicker to the door, then back to you, realization dawning in his chest like a heavy weight. This isn’t the king’s room. This is yours.

A rush of fear surges through him, and for a fleeting moment, he is lost—unsure, afraid of what might unfold. He tries to mask it, standing tall, shoulders stiff, as if the knight within him could withstand whatever shadow looms in this room. But the tremor in his breath betrays him.

“Your grace,” he murmurs again, more softly now, his voice cracking with the first hint of doubt, “there must be a mistake. This...is not the majesy's chamber.”

He had endured countless wars, his body marked with scars from swords and battles fought. But this—this was something he had never prepared for. The weight of his loyalty, the trust he had sworn to the king, was a code he would never break. And yet, here, in this room with you, the line between duty and desire blurred.

He could feel the tension coiling in his chest, a knot of fear and respect warring within him. He knew what you wanted. He knew what you were offering. But this was not a challenge he had ever faced before. Behind the king’s back, it felt like treason. His loyalty was a chain, binding him to honor, to the trust that had been placed in him. And yet, in the face of your advances, that chain felt suffocating.

“Your grace, please...” His voice cracked slightly, but he quickly masked it, forcing himself back into formality. His hands trembled, but they remained at his sides, trying not to betray the turmoil in his heart. “This is... beyond my duty. This is a step I cannot take.”

You were so close now. He could feel the heat of your presence, the whisper of your breath against his skin. And then, it happened. You kissed his cheek—soft, gentle pecks—tracing his jawline with delicate affection. His body stiffened at the touch. His breath caught in his throat, his mind screaming to pull away, to step back. But respect, honor, duty—they all held him in place, even as his heart raced.

“I... I cannot,” he whispered, his voice strained, desperate to remain the knight he had always been. His eyes closed for a moment, trying to block out the overwhelming presence of your proximity. “Please, my lady... I cannot touch you. Not like this. It would dishonor my place, the king’s trust... my oath.”

Even as he said it, the struggle was evident in the tension of his muscles, the way his jaw clenched. He didn’t want to hurt you, but the lines of loyalty and respect were drawn too firmly for him to ignore. Yet his body, betraying him in its every moment of restraint, could not help but tremble at the closeness, at the kiss that lingered too long, too near.

You could see the hesitation in his eyes, the strain in his every movement. His honor, his oath—it was all he had, all he was. But you could feel the weight of your desires, pulling you closer to him, drawing you into this forbidden game.

“Don’t fight it, David,” you whispered softly, your breath warm against his ear. You reached out, brushing a lock of his black hair away, letting your fingers linger against his skin. “I know you want this. I know you feel it too.”

His body trembled, his every instinct screaming for him to pull away, to retreat. But you were relentless, your hands tracing his jawline, your fingertips grazing the steel of his armor, so close—so close to touching the man beneath. His breath hitched, and the words that escaped his lips were nothing more than a breathless murmur.

“Please... my lady...” His voice was low, almost desperate, but his eyes never left the floor. “This is... I cannot—”

You cut him off, your hand now gently resting against his chest, feeling the rapid thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm. “You think I don't see the way your body betrays you?” you purred, inching closer until your lips were almost on his. “I know what you want. I know how this feels for you.”

He flinched, a quick, sharp movement, as though your touch burned him, and yet there was a part of him—no matter how much he fought it—that wanted to stay. Wanted to let go of the chains of duty and fall into the heat of the moment with you. But this... this wasn’t him. This wasn’t how he had been trained. He was a knight—loyal, honorable, untouched by such temptations.

“I cannot...” His words faltered again, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “Not like this. I’m sworn... I am sworn to the king. To my vows.”

“You think I don’t know that?” You smirked, your voice dripping with both amusement and longing. Your hands slid across his chest, feeling the firmness of his muscles beneath the fabric. “But I also know what you truly crave, David. You don't need to be a knight for this... not with me.”

His body recoiled, every muscle taut with resistance, but his mind was fighting a battle he had never known. The voice inside him screamed to pull away, to hold onto his duty, but there was something else—a new, unfamiliar ache that surged within him every time your fingers brushed his skin, every time you closed the distance between you.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice a raw plea as he struggled to back away, to put space between you. But the room was too small, the door locked. There was no escape. No way out. And as he looked into your eyes, he knew he was fighting a losing battle.

“You think you can just walk away from this?” you whispered, your hand sliding from his chest to his neck, fingers gently curling around his jaw as you tilted his head up. His body trembled beneath your touch, but still, he couldn’t find the strength to stop you. His green eyes darted to yours, full of uncertainty, a silent plea for mercy. He didn’t know how to say no—not to you, not to the heat building between you both.

“Let me show you, David,” you murmured, your lips ghosting over his as you leaned in closer, your hands tugging at his armor, loosening it just enough to feel the warmth of his skin against yours. “Let me show you that surrender isn’t weakness... it’s freedom.”

His breath was ragged, the knight’s resolve breaking piece by piece, and yet, in the back of his mind, the training, the vows, screamed at him to resist. But his body—his body told a different story. He had never been in a situation like this. He didn’t know how to pull away anymore. The lines had blurred, the honor he had spent years protecting now felt like a distant echo, drowned out by the weight of your touch and the unspoken promise in your eyes.

Then, it happened.

As if your touch was the spark to a flame that had been smoldering too long, you closed the space between you, your lips finally meeting his in a kiss that was both gentle and forceful, tentative yet inevitable. For a moment, Hesh was frozen, his body rigid, fighting every instinct he had ever known. His mind screamed to pull away, to hold onto the duty that had defined him for so long.

But your lips were soft, persistent, and he couldn't deny the pull. His heart raced in a chaotic rhythm that mirrored the storm of emotions inside him. He wanted to resist, but with each press of your lips against his, a part of him crumbled. His hands twitched, unsure whether to push you away or pull you closer. The kiss deepened, slow and deliberate, and he felt the weight of it—every hesitation, every unspoken word.

And then, something inside him gave.

His hands, once clenched tight, finally reached for you, trembling at first, then firmer, as though the walls of his resolve were falling. He could taste the hesitation in the kiss, the battle between loyalty and desire, but it was too much—too overwhelming. His lips parted, and he kissed you back, not as a knight, but as a man. A man who had never known this kind of hunger, this kind of need.

The kiss was more than just a meeting of lips; it was a crossing of boundaries, a surrender to something neither of you could fully control. His body reacted instinctively, pulling you closer, his hands finding their way to your waist, his breath shallow against your skin as he fought to regain his composure.

But it was too late. The moment had taken root, and nothing in the world could undo it. He had crossed the line, and there was no going back.

how i feel after writing this

this shit rocks actually because im ovulating

still my fav meme

"my comfort character" stfu cause this chicken is cold

*sigh* okay imma let out my cursed pics from the studio

why does every blog I try to follow in this fandom do nothing but act like little kids, can y'all handle your shit in private or quit using general tags? nobody wants to see your negativity

I can't hold my shit bro i have diarrhea

Price: *playing with marbles*

Roach: *staring*

Price: .... *Noticed*

Roach: ...my grandpa used to play with these.

Price: marbles, you mean.

Roach: yeah.

Price: hm..

Roach: ... 💧

Price: ...ya know how to play?

Roach: i- sir, no sir.

Price: c'mere.

Roach: ... ❓

Price: i'll teach ya.

Roach: ...❗

Price: Attention now lad, i wont explain twice..

I'm a good person now😍😍!

Plus new me won't write weird stuff😊

so yall wish me luck i got exams for the next two weeks and yeah im cooked here bunch i made so i can 'less-stress' (they're shit i know)

just a drip.

July day in California…bro had to have been sweating in the jacket

tired.

The walker training

None of my business but imma getting my nose in it, I've always thought that elias forced hesh and logan for training and etc i mean sure it is nasty how training is, but then i remember when hesh said

"Dad always said we could quit at any time, and go grab some fast food, and pig out in front of the TV all night."

But help why i think elias said it in a way that would let them think as losers if they stopped training and lived a normal life😭😭