#NOBODY CAN STOP ME 😈

[freedomfelled]

me after incorporating my african culture into my dr selfs cultural attire 🙂‍↕️😌

[blue-bird1967]

Tastyyyyy~ 👁👄👁💖 love my new keychains drop

[petew21-blog]

Fitness coaching, part 2

(a different inbox request 😈) I'll refer to you as kid and combine the stories. Hope you don't mind

Warning: The kid is just a nickname. The person in this story is of age

A high school assembly where Kevij Hjenas talks about his success and motivation

Kevin (or is it Kevin really?):"Hey everyone, today I am here to talk to you about following your passing and lack of motivation. First I gotta tell you how I started. How I wasn't so different from all of you..."

Kid to himself:"Yeah, you got it easy. You had the looks, you had the muscles and no one was beating your ass when you went to high school"

Kevin continuing:"So whenever you feel like giving up, you gotta stand up to that thing and beat it. And the biggest fight there's gonna be is the one that will be in your head"

Kid;"Sure, I wanna be the one in your head. Try being me for a sec while everyone is beating your ass, looking you in the lockers and picking on you for not being good enough."

Kevin:"And if you ever have a problem, don't worry to walk up to adults and ask for help. Most of the adults are willing to help you win your fight"

Kid:"Jesus, Kevin. I admire you and yet you come to school and talk to us about this bullshit? Nobody cares. Of course they don't. They don't want to fill the paperwork, talk to the parents. It's easier not to care. Damn. I wish I could be Kevin Hjenas and him to be me so that he could see what it's like to be a kid in high school again"

BAM

Kid tries to open his eyes, but can't. He can feel... stretched? Around something. He can feel something hard inside of him. He can feel a butt? What is going on?

He tried to scream:"What happened? Where am I?"

Kevin stops his speech as the voice inside of his head now turned more louder, but it sounds different. "Kevin? Go back to being an obedient speedo, would you? I got a presentation to finish."

Kid:"Kevin? What? I am... I am a student. I was just watching Kevin. Why are you calling me Kevin? Where am I? Did you just call me a speedo?"

Suddenly a kid's in the audience gets up from his seat. "I can see again. I can talk! Somebody help me. Someone stole my body." He stares in disbelief at his previous Kevin Hjenas body, or atleast the one who looks like him. "You did that! Give me my body back!"

Teacher:"That's enough of this outburst young man, you'll come with me to the principal."

The other kids lost it and the whole auditorium started laughing. This kid is gonna get beat up today so much more than usually.

(Not) Kevin to Kid as his speedo:"Look kid. Let me finish this and I'll explain. Ok? Just stay silent and I'll fix this. Ok?"

Kevin finishes the presentation and goes to the nearby park

Kevin:"So tell me what did you do before you ended up as my speedo?"

Kid:"I couldn't believe the bullshit you were talking at the assembly. I had the worst time yesterday and I envied you. Your body, your fame. Everything. So I wished to be in Kevin Hjenas body and him to be in mine"

Kevin:"Oh... I see what went wrong"

Kid:"It didn't work, that's what went wrong"

Kevin:"Well technically you are in Kevin's body. Cause... I'm not really Kevin. I'm wearing his body as a speedo and that gives me the ability to look like him. I'm a different person. So the one screaming in your body at the auditorium was the real Kevin in your body"

Kid:"Ok, then change me back to his body then. If you have the power."

Kevin:"It's not that easy... we gotta contact this writer. He writes stories and if you ask he grants you the wish in a form of a story/transformation. He likes to play with his subjects after. But the waiting time is horrible. He works all the time and only writes a few stories a day. So that is the tricky part"

Kid:"So what if we ask him nicely? Maybe if we explain the situation to him, he might understand"

Kevin:"You really are naive, kid. But it's worth a shot. Let's go home. You gotta get used to being a speedo and there is not better time to let you learn like now"

Kevin's dick gets visibly hard

Kid:"Oh, this is strange. But... it feels nice. I can actually feel it"

Kevin:"Just a few benefits of being a piece of clothing. Just wait till you feel me stroke myself or have an orgasm. Oh jesus. How old are you kid?"

Kid:"Don't worry. I'm old enough to feel you cum onto my... fabric?"

Two months later

Author:"Oh hey Kevin. Sorry for the waiting time. You wouldn't believe what kind of wishes all the people have. There was thos guy who wanted to be merged as Hulk and..."

Kevin:"Stop. This can't wait. I need a favour. And so does this kid." Kevin pulls down his shorts and points at his speedo

Author:"Is there something wrong with the real Kevin? You still look like him so what's the issue?"

Kevin:"The issue is, that this isn't Kevin anymore. Some kid from local High school wanted to swap bodies with him and he did. Kevin is now attending school again, while he is stuck embracing my dick as speedo"

Author:"Oh... well. I don't have good news for you boys. Because another spell intervened, I can't really do much about the appearance of Kevin's original body. But... there might be a solution. You may not like it"

Kid:"I don't care, I just want to feel what it's like to be a human again. Atleast for a while"

Kevin:"The kid is on board with whatever plan you got. Depends what it means for me."

Author:"It's quite simple, guys. You might have to learn how to share. You'll both have the ability to control your body, swapping with the speedo. Only one gets to control the human body, while the other rests as speedo"

Kevin:"I'm not giving this up. I worked hard to look like Kevin"

Kid:"You can't do this to me"

Kevin:"Can't you place his soul into something else, please?"

Author:"Wish I could, but both of these spell are now combined and can't be broken. If I take his soul away, you won't look like Kevin anymore. It's either this or full reversal. And let me tell you... Kevin is gonna be really pissed"

Kevin:"Would you be ok with that? Sharing a body like Jekyll and Hyde?"

Kid:"Who's that suppose to be?"

Kevin:"Jesus you kids these days. So... like Moon Knight?"

Kid:"Oh cool. If it means I get to be human and also Kevin, I'm in."

Kevin:"Ok, let's do this..."

Two weeks later, pier beach

Kevin:"You should stop with all these carbs. We'll get fat"

Kid:"Oh shut up. I'm enjoying myself."

Fan:"Hey, Kevin. Could I take a photo with you?"

Kid:"Oh yeah. Right on"

Fan:"Thank you. Could... could I touch your biceps, sir?"

Kid:"Oh of course. Go on. I can't get enough of these things too. They are massive right?"

Fan:"Haha. Yeah. Thank you"

Kevin:"You need to tone it down a bit. People are gonna get suspicious."

Kid:"Oh relax. You'll get your turn soon. I'm just enjoying my part of the day. I still think it's unfair that you get the night. I wanna party and fuck other people too. And not just as a speedo"

Kevin:"You'll have a chance soon. Don't worry"

Who knows if the boys will learn to share

A request from Inbox story set as a second part. Guys, you two might have to learn how to share 😁

Hello today is worst day of school someone just randomly pick on me and the worst is no one at the school cared for me, tomorrow kevin hejnas is coming to our school i just wish i could be him so i could feel what life would be as a famous man.

[mono-asksandart]

i made so many gifs of them with my own ingame clips and i will continue to do so, NOBODY CAN STOP ME 😈😈😈

[jade-jini]

HI been thinking abt g!p loser yunjin getting emotional during sex 😭 can i request a somno one where she comes home drunk late at night, looking for reader only to see her asleep on their bed! yunny getting hard at the sight and emotional as she remembers their argument, she couldn’t help herself but touch her gf, soft “sorry’s” and “don’t leave me” leaving her mouth as she fucks reader 😖

TW: somno, angst, happy ending ig. Dubcon. Dacryphilia. Yunjin is insecure.

Can I give you g!p loser somno Yunjin? Yes. Is it from the same storyline as the previous posts? Hell no. That baby would never. That one is fluffy fluffy this is a completely different one ok? Ok 🤨. After clarifying that…😈

“Hey, a*hic*nother one, please…” Yunjin said, raising her empty glass, her vision not good enough to catch where the bartender actually was. The guy sighed as he dried a washed glass with a towel.

“Listen kid, we’re already closed. Why don’t you go home already?”

“Home?” Yunjin asked unconsciously, the memories of that day hitting once again.

——————————Flashback—————————

You guys were supposed to get home together after a long day. Yunjin was gonna pick you up after your last class of the day, the orange sky and sunlight hitting against her own hair as she waited for you. She had a nice flower in hand, excited to give it to you. Softly placing it near her nose to smell it one more time, she made herself blushed thinking about your smile once she saw you. However, you were not alone. Her smile dropped right away as she left the flower fall somewhere.

There you were, standing with a friend she very well recognized. It was this one girl from the women soccer team of the university. Yunjin knew her name, everybody knew her name. But she never liked using it, making it clear she did not like this person at all.

“She seems to like you a lot…” she murmured after the first time she saw you talking to Yeji.

“I like her too, she’s a good friend, and she’s friends with Yeojin already so it’s cool” you explained, apparently not getting the message right away.

“Hmmmm, not what I meant but whatever..” she said as her pout got bigger, letting go of your hand and crossing her arms in front of her chest. That’s when you finally noticed.

“Huh Yunjin, are you jealous?” You asked, trying to stop a giggle.

“Maybe? I mean she’s athletic and popular, and you’re so pretty, baby. Who wouldn’t want you? I wouldn’t be surprised if one day you decide you want to give her or somebody else a chance…”

“Omg shut up, that could never happen. I love you. You, Yunjin.” You told her, taking her hand and kissing her cheek. You didn’t have eyes for nobody else but Yunjin, so you didn’t wanna hear none of that nonsense.

“Yeah but still…” she murmured, and you simply sighed and continued walking hand in hand, trying to be extra sweet and clingy to your girl to distract her from those thoughts.

You thought it was cute the first couple times, but then her attitude started becoming more serious every time. It wasn’t your cute girlfriend being a little jealous and protective. It was like a completely different person taking over your sweet girl. You guys have already had more arguments about this situation. They were never too bad.

Until today.

“Oh, hi baby!” You greeted your girlfriend once she met you guys, smiling at her like you did every time, with love and excitement like it was the first time you saw her.

“Hi, Yunjinie.” Yeji tried, as always, to be on the good side of the taller girl. Yunjin just looked at her, nodding at her and humming. She looked back at you.

“Ready to go? Maybe we can go get something to eat at your favorite restaurant before getting home.” She asked while smiling at you only, not wanting to acknowledge the other girl’s presence more than necessary.

“Oh nice! Wanna join us before going home, Yeji?” You asked your friend, knowing she lived very close to your building. Yunjin’s smile left again, rolling her eyes.

“Oh! Actually-”

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be today?” Yunjin murmured, a bored tone that she didn’t try to hide. In her mind, this was the least rude she could be towards Yeji.

“Huh Yunjin…” you warned her, a challenging tone growing in your throat and your eyes telling you weren’t gonna tolerate that.

“It’s ok, y/n.” Yeji said with an awkward laugh, trying to avoid yet another conflict. Unfortunately, she has been present before when your girlfriend showed clearly discomfort with her presence near you. “I can’t go anyways, Lia’s class must be almost done, and we have a date today so…” she commented, a slight blush appearing on the girl’s face. “Anyways, see you later.” The older girl said with a smile, waving her hand as she walked away quickly to go pick up her own girlfriend. You smiled and waved back at her, and once you turned back at Yunjin, her face was still showing she was upset. You shook your head, starting to walk. She followed you behind.

“What, you’re gonna leave me here now?” She asked as you didn’t give her a chance to walk beside you. You rolled your eyes.

“What the fuck, Yunjin?” You asked her as you slowed down a bit so she could catch up. “I’m tired of you being rude to every friend I have. First it was Chaeyoung and Yeojin and now-”

“Yeojin wouldn’t stop touching you! Am I supposed to be ok with that?!” She interrupted you, her voice getting a little louder and shaky.

“And now!” You interrupted her back, making her go quiet. “She barely looks me in the eye when you’re present ‘cause she knows you get easily jealous.” Yunjin scratched the back of her neck as she opened the car’s door for you. Once she got in the driver’s seat, she spoke again. Her voice changing to a sadder one.

“I’m just scared of losing you, y/n. You know that…” she said, as she started driving. You looked at her, examining her face. You could tell she was in distress about this. However, being insecure didn’t give her the right to treat your friends bad. You stayed quiet for a little while as she drove. Once you were walking to your apartment, you spoke again.

“I’ve told you Yeji has a girlfriend, yet you’re still treating her like this.” You heard her huff.

“Am I supposed to believe that?”

“Excuse me?” You looked at her with a frown, clearly offended.

“If she had a girlfriend she wouldn’t be stuck to your side all the fucking time.” Yunjin said, her voice getting deeper than normal. She was very upset, but so were you.

“Because she’s my friend, Yunjin! Friends spend time together! Why can’t you understand the concept of that?” You told her in the same tone, seriously tired of the constant fighting about such an insignificant thing as you hanging out with your friends.

“I don’t spend all the time stuck to my friends.” she remarked once you opened the door.

“Even if you did, I wouldn’t be making these scenes because I actually trust you. Do you even trust me?”

“It has nothing to do with that-”

“Do you even trust me, Huh Yunjin?!” You asked her again in a louder tone. You were not gonna let her evade this question. Yunjin didn’t like your tone nor the accusations. So instead of processing what she actually felt, she acted impulsively.

“No! I don’t trust you nor your fucking flirty friends! I’m tired of all this!” She yelled, her breathing becoming irregular.

You went quiet, feeling your heart hurt. The girl you loved didn’t trust you. You’ve done everything in your power to show her she’s your one and only. That nobody else comes even close to her in your heart. Yet her insecurities were hurting you both.

“Then go.” You said after you swallowed the lump in your throat, your eyes already getting watery.

“What…” she whispered, starting to panic as she felt her heart sink.

“Trust is the most important thing in a relationship, with honesty. If we don’t have that, we don’t have nothing.”

“Oh my god I am so sorry, y/n… I didn’t mean to say any of that.” She tried apologizing, the weight of her words hitting her. Hard. She fucked up.

“If you don’t even trust me, then why haven’t you left?” You asked her, feeling that even speaking was hard at the moment.

“I’m sorry. I’ll work on it. Please give me another chance, baby. Please.” Your girlfriend said, trying to hold your hands but you put them close to you avoiding this, such action breaking her heart a little more ‘cause you’ve never rejected her touch before.

“I’ve been patient and understanding but your jealousy just keeps getting worse. I need some time right now…”

“No! Please don’t.. please baby, don’t say that…” tears were threatening to come out already, her hands trembling at the idea of losing you.

“At least for tonight. I need to think about us, please go Yunjin.” You almost begged, voice getting softer due to the sadness taking over the anger now.

“y/n, please…”

“Just leave, Yunjin. I need some space today, please.” You said, not even looking at her. You couldn’t, because if you did you would ask her to stay and you actually needed some alone time to calm down. You heard her hesitate, but nevertheless her steps resonated in the now empty room.

————————End of flashback————————

“My home doesn’t want me at home…” Yunjin said as she began sobbing again. The bartender, weirded out, tried comforting her after calling a taxi for the young woman.

“Listen dude, I don’t know who hurt you, but you gotta go home. There’s a taxi outside ok? Just tell them where to go and I don’t know, get some makeup sex or something.”

“Makeup sex? Hmm..” the idea of it already causing an effect on her intoxicated mind. She quietly went home, with only the image of you in her thoughts, feeling her friend reacting to it.

“y/n? Baby are you h*hic*ome?” Yunjin asked once she stepped foot on the living room of your apartment, clumsily looking for you. “I-I’m sorry baby… please I l*hic*love you. Let me show you I love you.”

When she didn’t get a response, she made her way to your shared room. Her messy hair in front of her eyes making it a little extra complicated for her to see where she was going, but she wasn’t that messed up yet. Once she got to the bedroom, she found you deep in your sleep, looking beautiful as ever. She always thought you looked cute when sleeping, but tonight when she noticed how you were using nothing but her big shirt, the blanket barely covering your naked legs, cute wasn’t the word she’d use to describe you.

“God you’re so sexy, so perfect… I could never lose you…” she said as she got closer to the bed, falling sat next to you. The new weight made you move a bit, but it didn’t wake you up. “Please w-wake up, darling. I need you…” she whispered as she fixed her member, that was already getting hard by the view in front of her. Her other hand traveled to your thigh, caressing the skin as she slowly made her way to your ass. With the shirt going up a bit, she could see that you really were using nothing but her shirt.

“You knew I was c*hic*oming, Hmm?” She hummed, getting rid of her jacket and unbuttoning her pants to get her hand inside them, touching herself on top of her boxers. Soft groans escaping Yunjin’s lips as she felt her member getting harder and harder. She couldn’t help but put your shirt a little higher, leaving kisses on your stomach. Her lips slowly going up until she was kissing your chest, going from one nipple to the other. She was straight up moaning against your chest as she slowly sucked on them. With her dick already out of her pants, she needed to have you. She needed to prove to you she loved you always. As she made her way between your legs, she slowly started stroking her cock, licking her own lips before starting to eat you out. Yunjin could feel you softly moving under her, but you were a heavy sleeper. “So good.. tastes so good, baby.” She said as she made out with your pussy in such a messy but sensual way. The little whimpers coming from her as she stimulated both of you, and the little groans you’d let out in your sleep, were the only sounds Yunjin’s ears could catch. “P-please don’t leave.. if you do.. You’d break my heart..” the taller girl said, kissing your thighs, the idea of you actually leaving being an option got her sad again. As her eyes got watery, she fixed herself better between your legs, her member against your now very wet cunt, making sure to get herself wet too so she doesn’t hurt you. More soft sounds were coming from you, similar to the ones you do when awake. Yunjin’s clouded mind was thinking that maybe, if your body was reacting to her like this even when asleep, then you didn’t really want to leave. “Oh fuck…” she moaned as she slowly entered you. “Please don’t leave, I’m gonna miss this pussy too much…”

She started thrusting inside you slowly, sighing as your tight pussy grabbed around her so good every single time. She loved how well your bodies understood each other, and the thought of it being like this even when you’re not awake got her dick twisting inside you. This didn’t stop her from being sad though, knowing that after your argument that day, you probably wouldn’t have accepted this so easily.

“Please…” Yunjin whispered, her voice breaking in between pleads, tears threatening to fall “please d-don’t leave me.. I can be better than them.. p-promise..” she sobbed, the warmth of your body bringing both comfort and sadness, scared the next morning you’d be gone.

“What.. what the.. fuck? Hmmm.. Jen?” You murmured as her rougher actions slowly started to wake you up “w-what are you-”

“Please l-let me do it, if you’re gonna leave..” she said in between sobs “let me have you one last t*hic*ime..”

“W-who said I- fuck~ was gonna leave, baby?” You asked her, confused in between moans. Your hands automatically hugged her shoulders as you felt her cock reaching those spots inside you only Yunjin could ever get to know.

“I r-ruined it.. but please don’t go. I’m s-sorry, y/n. I love you…” she said, her moves now a little softer and slower. However you weren’t angry at her, how could you when she felt so good deep inside you, and her tears making her look so cute and pathetic, turning you on so much for some reason. You didn’t care to understand it though, your mind also getting clouded by desire for her.

“So cute when you cry. Do you feel sorry, baby?” You asked her, grabbing her face. She nodded eagerly, tears running down her face. “Why.. why are you sorry, tell me.”

“Hmmgh y/n.. I’m sorry for b-being mean, and jealous…” she dragged her words, but you were able to make out what she was saying. “S-sorry for not asking for permission first…” her sobs became more intense, but so did her thrusts inside you and you weren’t sure if her tears were more sadness or pleasure, probably a mix of both. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry y/n.. Hmm please…”

“Shhh, keep going baby, don’t you dare stop.” You threatened her, her teary eyes making your pussy clench around her cock, making your girlfriend moan loudly “such a fucking good cock, feels so good…”

“Hmmm fuck… you feel so good too, wanna be inside you forever…” she said as she pounded your pussy so good. Even when drunk, she knew what your face was saying, knowing she was hitting you in a spot you really like, getting you closer. “Like this, baby? D-does my cock feel good here?”

“So good… don’t you fucking stop.. Hmm fuck, baby!” You came intensely as her name kept coming from your mouth again and again, music for her ears. The sensation also making her moan, feeling herself too close.

“y/n, I’m gonna come…” she warned you, but you weren’t done with her punishment. You turned you guys around, holding her wrists against the mattress and riding her “oh god…” she moaned as she bit her lip. When you felt her dick inside you twisting, meaning her orgasm was just seconds away, you quickly got off her, ruining her orgasm as she finished untouched “Ahh! F-fuck.. nooo.. fuck!” She whimpered and cried as her cum ended on her thighs and some on her abs. “Why… that hurt, y/n..” she complained, hissing a bit when a cold wet towel made contact with her skin to clean her.

“That’s what you get for being a bad girl.” You told her, receiving a groan for her. When you turned around to see her, her eyes were still full of tears, a pout on her face. You simply laughed before holding her closer to you. “Don’t worry baby, tomorrow when you’re sober I’ll make sure to take care of you good.”

[pupyuj]

omg u write for bini ??? tots on sub maloi pls 🥹

HEHE finally decided to work on some bini asks i got from a while back so here’s the first one! 🤓 decided to make this (and as well as my future bini stuff) mostly english so everybody can tune in 🤩 i have to scroll pretty far down for the other ones so pardon me—

sobrang mapang asar 😭 like maloi’s the kind of sub that would do all the risky things to get her way! doesn’t matter if you’ll get angry or if both of you get caught—she gets what she wants and 98% of the time, she does! 😈 if you just so happened to be watching the girls while they’re practicing, bigla-bigla ka na lang uupuan kase occupied na daw yung ibang chairs even though there’s like a whole bench available… teases you to hell and acts so oblivious about it when you accuse her! bcs that’s such an indecent act, she wouldn’t dare to grind her ass into your crotch while the girls were around! 🫢🫢 and she wouldn’t take your hands and put them on her thighs and so dangerously close to her warmth while aiah and jhoanna are talking to the two of you, why would you accuse her of that?! 😖

tapos malibog pa! 😭 hands always on your ass, cops a feel of your boobs when nobody’s looking, whispers dirty things into your ear just to see your face flare up, and even forces you to do the dirty stuff by suddenly putting your hand on her boob like ?/!;!/&!/ 😭😭 takes advantage of your timidness a lot and ykw lowkey toxic with all the emotional manipulation she’s always trying to pull on you… “please hon i need you… sandali lang. love mo ako, diba? do this for me naman…” and ofc you can’t say no kase you do love her!! and maloi was just too pretty to say no to so you let her do whatever she wants! 😩

maloi’s favorite thing? risky sex ofc! the mere thought of fucking while the threat of being found really makes it all feel so much better 😋 being in a bathroom stall, her face pressed against the door while your three fingers are knuckle deep inside her cunt and your other hand squeezing her tit just how she likes it.. and ofc she’s not making any effort to use her own hands to clamp her mouth shut bcs she wants to get caught with you.. but you also made it impossible for her to try and keep quiet! you were just so good ☹️💕

and even if you wanted to stop just so you can spare both of your asses the trouble, maloi’s praises were too enchanting to your ears 😵‍💫

“just l-like that, baby… good girl—ahh..!”

“a-ang tapang mo ngayon, huh…? always knew you had it in you..”

“faster, hon.. good, good..!!”

also she’s definitely an anal girl SORRYYYY like she’s walking around with a butt plug that she made you put in her ass earlier in the morning before going to practice and now you’re looking at it while you’re fucking her from behind and it all just adds to the pleasure 😵‍💫 and maloi doesn’t let you stop until colet’s blowing up her phone telling her to go back to practice 😭

[tony-the-tigers-juicy-armpit]

I know it's not very "masc4masc" to talk about aesthetics but can we in the faggot community please shift away from the college football fraternity themes. I'm not saying they're bad! I'm just saying it's overdone. I'm bored. Talking about you, Brandt's Boys. The least you could do with those copypaste chippendale crackerjacks is give me a plot that isn't "this is what the jocks do in the dorms when nobody's around 😈" and the occasional incest (which barely anyone wants). And by the way, you can play with those camera angles all you like, we can all tell Brandt is short. Not a bad thing, but stop fucking around and let a tall beefy bottom swallow up his shortking dick for some juicy size difference content. And let me get back to themes, because at least some of you are too old to be in college. What are these closeted faggot jocks doing after graduation? Get me some young dads at the barbecue. Or even - an office scene - any college kid in 2023 who's closeted is trying to protect his family's reputation; He's probably getting nepo'd into a cushy adult daycare in Seattle. That's top tier bait for a blackmailing boss. And it's ACAB forever but we can get some 5-0 uniforms in this mothersucker. I'm just saying you could be the next Sean Cody but you wanna fuck around and pretend any of these steroid androids even somewhat recently identified as heterosexual for poppersipping goonpoints.

[useradeer]

Me when I realize I can draw whatever the fuck I want:

Ok but I watched the Barbie movies recently (as written in the post but the non french won't understand 😈😈) and I can't believe my biggest fandoms are Team fortress 2 and the Barbie universe.

These movies taught me more than my parents, gave me a liking for dance, for drawing and for classical music. Seriously.

So I decided, as a treat for me, Scout as a fucking ballerina. And nobody could stop me.

Also, I love pointe shoes, their appearance is so pleasing to me for some reason.

Don't be shy and suggest what ballets he'd be dancing in. Personally I think he'd make a great Carmen. Or he'd be a great Kitri. I don't know, I see him taking up pretty energetic roles.

[totalalphadom]

A Christmas message to subs and betabitch gimps that think nobody understands their needs, I totally get you: Understand from the very beginning, that deep down I know that subscum like you want, no NEED, an ALPHA to control it. It thinks about me OWNING it. It thinks about it’s powerless in front of me, how vulnerable it is. OBJECTIFIED. It wants an ALPHA to take it over. It will change it’s mind at different times, naturally. It will struggle. It will scream. It will beg. It will cry. And might even fight or try to run. But it’s basically fighting with itself and will come to accept it's place sooner or later. Merry Christmas to all my pack and all you bitches dreaming about joining my pack make 2025 the year you stop fukking around and learn how to earn my collar. I said this is a Christmas message and it is but it's really good for you assholes to be thinking about all the year round. be what you are it is ok. you are just one click away pups 😈 SLAVERY= FREEDOM.

@domalphatop on telegram ONLY

☝️ this is one hot animal right here nobody can say this gimpedup rubberized collared hooded blankminded bitch ain't 🔥 AND it could be you asshole it's true you are just one step away from freedom

[red-doll-face]

Snow Angel 9

Chapter 9: marauding Series Masterlist

low - medium honor Arthur Morgan x fem. Reader

Arthur has been living by himself, laying low (for real this time) somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. After the whole Pinkerton and Micah debacle, he has been hiding away, waiting for it all to blow over, occasionally getting letters from the people who still know that he’s alive. He’s been alone awhile and at first, he thought he could handle a little loneliness. He has been wrong before. Lucky for him, you look like the perfect thing to break up the monotony.

Warnings: dubious consent, arthur's mental health is kind of not so good...VERY low honor Arthur, darkish fic, a bit of naive reader. Guns and violence. Reader has dated and period typical ideals, not very good ideas about men and marriage… if you want reader to be strong and a fighter… this is not for you sorry. suggestive themes. WC: 5212 CHAPTER 9 !!! Thank you guys so much for all of your comments and replies and feedback, I've been loving it!!! 💖💖💖💖💖💖 Thank you for all of the lovely asks as well, @frillydolle @emerald-ranch @teenalien-xx and anyone else who has sent an ask about this series… you guys are the best, I LOVE YOU watch out for meanie arthur AGAIN LMAO😈 Tags: no TB, weird but not that toxic relationship, Arthur being a menace. some scary shit, so watch out 👀Arthur being rude as always just... low honor arthur as a warning lol

You wait for Arthur to decide what happens to your family.

It’s entirely too still in your family home. The air is as stiff and immovable, just like the man, your man as he likes to say, standing behind you. Arthur’s presence is unwavering. As always, he has a natural inclination to hold dominance, to control. He doesn’t seem bothered by this situation, not like you do, not like your parents who watch on, powerless to stop him. In fact, it’s like he’s in his element. He holds himself with that signature cockiness, not misplaced for a second.

You pant in panic, feet shuffling underneath you. You grip onto the rough hide of his coat, scratching your nails into it, as if you can hold onto him for support but you know that whatever happens is ultimately Arthur’s choice.

Both of your parents have withering glances and worried stares. Their mouths are agape in shock, they try to move closer instinctively but Arthur cocks the hammer back on his gun. You can’t move, Arthur holds you much too tight, you almost can’t breathe. Fat tears drip down the roundness of your cheeks and down your jaw.

“You let her go, she didn’t hurt nobody, she never meant anybody any harm-” Your mother is trying to speak past her worry and anger. She devolves into a strangled cry, covering her face. Arthur has a rough chuckle, it grates on you. He thinks this is amusing, an exciting development.

“Yeah, gentle as a lamb, this one. You raised a real sweet girl, really knows how to make a man feel special, don’t she?” he has a light casual tone, as if he isn’t holding a gun up to your mother. His insinuation makes your face warm in shame, casting your gaze to the ground.

“Arthur…” Pleading with him results in nothing, you only want this to be over, you wish you could sink into the floor. At least then, you wouldn’t cause your parents so much grief. You thought he cared for you but that care does not extend past you to your family. This is simply how he gets what he wants and it doesn't matter to him that it’s your parents. That you beg him not to do this. Anyone who stands in his way risks their life.

“Honey, much as I like to hear you beg for me, now ain’t the time,”

Your father’s glare is full of disdain, disgust. Arthur revels in it, you can feel his chest puff up, he stands a little taller. His aim doesn’t dip at all, keeping his gun steady. He’s calculating what to do, where to go from here. All of you wait to see what he decides. It’s terrifying how it feels like he’s done this before, pointed his gun at innocent people to get what he wants. Arthur controls every single aspect of the situation with an untroubled air.

“We haven’t very much but you could have it all if it means you leave ‘er alone,” Your father’s hands are raised in defeat and surrender. Arthur scoffs.

“You ain’t got much, that’s true. Just one thing I want,” You whine, his grip isn’t rough, only firm, reminding you of how he thinks of you. You belong to him and you always will.

“Don’t want a goddamn thing, ‘cept her. What do you think, sweetheart? I take care of you?” You blink, you flush a little, unable to contain the joy his words bring to the sick part of you that likes Arthur. You can’t stand to look up and look at your parents. Their mortified faces, their utter horror. He becomes more vulgar as you fail to answer. Pushing you to say what he wants you to say.

“She might have a big mouth when it comes to this but her mouth weren’t so goddamn big last time I checked. Couldn’t fit all of me in there, now could you, pretty girl…could only stand to take ‘bout half of me,” your father’s disdain turns into disgust, malice. He looks as if he’s about to do something, angry tears well in his eyes. You can’t stand to see your family’s faces as they hear of the depraved things you did for Arthur.

“Yes! Yes, you… you took care of me,” you practically sob, mortified and humiliated, overcome by fear and a violent pang of regret. You focus on the wood grain of the floor, vision blurring with your own tears. Your voice is a shame filled whisper.

“Just stop this Arthur; I’ll go with you, please, let’s just go,” You beg again, hoping he’ll listen, that he’ll take you with him. That you can salvage whatever is left for whatever brief moments of peace you had with Arthur.

Your father says your name between clenched teeth. “You are not going anywhere,” his face twists, he doesn’t want to see you leave with Arthur but you don’t see another choice. Another way out of this situation without Arthur hurting your parents. All you can imagine is a hole in your father’s head, like the hole in the head of the man who tried robbing your campsite. The glazed over look in his eyes. Arthur hasn’t shown you anything that makes you think he would actually pull the trigger on your parents but right now, he’s a cornered rattlesnake. Poised and ready to strike if the moment calls for it.

“Well, I wouldn’t say that just yet,” Arthur huffs. You can almost hear the way one side of his mouth lifting up to show off that prideful smirk.

“What’s that you said? Didn’t matter, as long as I took good care of her. Never even said I loved her and you was ready to send her off. Don’t sound like anybody cares for her ‘round here. You sent her out there; for what? Don't you think ol' granny's lived long enough?” you look away, a subtle pain erupts in your chest. He never did say that he loved you.

There’s a cruel edge to his voice. He talks as if he's telling a joke. He motions vaguely in the direction of your grandmother. His casually callous words do seem to strike a cord with your mother; she closes her eyes, feeling the guilt he wants to inflict.

More tears spill over your lash line. If you had just been modest, if you had fought him, maybe you wouldn’t be so ashamed, you wouldn’t have disgraced yourself like this. But what hope did you have? He overpowered you then like he overpowers you now, his heavy arms slung over your neck, any shift from you and he presses his arm tighter.

“Should’ve known your Pa was spineless. Your woman's more man than you. Had more backbone than you; were you really gonna sign your only kid away like that?”

“You’re no man; no man at all,” Your father’s outcry at Arthur hits him more than he knows. “You’re nothing, just the scum of the earth here to take what isn’t yours,” your fathers tone is panicked still but you can tell he means every word, his face screwed up in anger. He may not know it but you know his comment impacts Arthur; more than Arthur would ever let on so obviously. But his hand squeezes harder at his gun, his posture stiffens behind you as you’re pressed against his body. Arthur doesn't have any room to hear your father’s complaints, does not let them go without consequences.

A bullet shatters something on the mantle and both you and your mother scream. You sob against Arthur, shock forces you still under his arm. The gun firing in the enclosed room has your ears ringing. You think your father is dead, you feel your stomach drop and more tears drip down your face. Everything fades away for a moment. You don’t know what you'd do if your father died today.

Your father clutches his shoulder, his hand comes away with blood. Your mother checks frantically over your father while his legs tremble, groaning in pain. Then he collapses into his knee. The smell of blood and his gunfire consume the space. You sniff, acknowledging that your father isn’t gravely injured but still, you thrash until he has something to say about it.

“Calm down, it ain’t exactly fatal,” he says, as if his bullet simply grazed your father’s arm. “Should teach you to keep your mouth shut. I’m usually less polite,”

“You’re a coward, is what you are,” your father struggles to speak past his pain. Your mother presses some fabric to his injury.

“You are really startin’ to annoy me. I ain’t got a single problem with leaving your neck a bloody stump but I don’t want her to see that. Do you?” His voice drops as low as it can go, a hostility that isn’t just for show. You whine, shaking your head, pressing backwards into Arthur. It doesn’t matter what happens to you, all you want is for him to take you away, to spare your family.

“No! No, Arthur, stop, I wanna go back to your house,” you attempt to pull his attention back to you. “Pa, I-I need to be with Arthur, It’s like you always said, right?” You look at him with as genuine a smile you can pull but the ache of your circumstances pulls you down. Your father shakes his head but you nod.

“Arthur, please…” you turn over your shoulder as much as you can. You plead with him with your eyes too. Imparting your desperation in your gaze. You know that Arthur, although steadfast and stubborn, can be moved by you. Something in you, whatever has captured his attention has him wanting to please you too. You can see how he huffs, looks this way and that. But he’s giving in, letting you have your way. His anger doesn’t dissipate entirely but he drops his shoulders.

“Alright, enough of this. Think we’re done with this little family reunion, ain’t we, sweetheart?” You nod vigorously, sniffing past your tears, trying to blink them away. You’re glad that endearing yourself to Arthur is still a trick you have up your sleeve. He seems to be done with whatever fight your parents put up, there isn’t a lot of it they have to offer. They cower at the end of his revolver. Your father puts himself in front of your mother, despite his injury bleeding onto the cloth your mother gave him. But he has no weapon to defend anyone with.

“No, you don’t have to go, sweetie,” Arthur’s finger twitches at the trigger, making your mother’s desperately hopeful voice fall silent. The teary eyed smile she gives you falls like her voice does.

“I’m not sure you heard what I said. But I’ll make it easier for you to understand. She ain’t your little girl anymore; she’s her own woman,” he mocks your mothers words. “N’ she wants to come with me,” you whimper as his arm gets tighter, unconsciously expressing his possessive attitude towards you. He looks down at you, lightening up a little.

“I’m real sorry it had to be like this, wanted somethin’ different for you. But I ain’t the one who went n’ messed it all up,” the blame he puts on you has your heart sinking. If you were just a better liar, maybe he wouldn’t be here, aiming a gun at your father who is already on the ground, staunching the blood which drips out over the fabric anyway.

“Shouldn’t hafta say this but I feel that maybe I have to. You make this difficult and I leave a bigger mess for your wife to clean up, you understand?” He’s speaking only to your father. His arm eases off of you, slowly. You can feel the underlying threat in his tone.

“Now, go and grab your things, honey.” His finality and the dead silence make you hesitate, like if you move it’s official. If you move, then you can’t go back to this moment again. To this place again. But he nudges you towards your room, motioning his gun, still pointing with that deadly aim you know he has. You go to your bedroom in a trance almost, walking past your parents, you can’t bear to see them. Their terrified faces, the mournful stare they watch you with. As if you walk to your execution.

In your room, the chest is much too heavy for you to take with you. So you leave your clothes and take only things you can’t get back. The most precious things to you. A book of stories from your youth, some toys and your favorite toy, figurines your father gave to you and a shawl knitted by your grandmother. Silent tears drip as you pack them into a much smaller valise, bead of water gathering over the wool of your shawl. Your supplies for knitting and embroidering are stowed away too but you don’t take any of the unnecessary bits you have.

You snap it shut. It feels like this chapter of your life is snapping shut too, you know it, so deep inside of yourself. That you’ll never see your family again. By some miracle perhaps, but never the same way at the very least. You wipe violently at your face, picking up your suitcase, changing quickly into a fresher set of clothes before you step out.

The smile he has for you is tinged with the violence of the gleam of the silver metal in his hand. That wolfish grin, a bear's snarl more than something that reflects any true joy. You walk to him, stand at his side, the way you know he wants you too.

Your father still has that gleam in his eye, like he wants to fight against Arthur. You frown. You don’t want him getting hurt trying in vain to save you. That’s the last thing you want. You know that sacrificing yourself for the safety of your parents isn’t what your father wants but you don’t want anyone hurt here because of you.

“Please, Pa. Just leave us alone. I… I want to be with Arthur,” you murmur. It’s harder to say as you look at your father’s hand clenching over his wound. You’re not even sure if you mean it yourself. But Arthur is your reality now. Whether you like it or not.

Your mother starts to cry louder now. You blink, holding back the loud noise of your emotions. You drop your bag, hugging your family tight in one strong motion, letting them hold you tightly. Your fathers blood stains your cheek but you don’t care. Your mother brushes it off your cheek.

You want to hold them for as long as you can. Your mother shakes against you and your father kisses your hair. You separate yourself slowly. You want to keep this moment forever. Maybe you’d see them again, you’d beg and beg Arthur to take you here again. But you doubt he’d say yes. Or even worse, your family would refuse to see you, the disgrace you’d be after leaving with Arthur.

“You don’t have to go with him…” Your mother pets your hair. You shake your head.

“Yes, I do. Pa’s already hurt, I can’t-” You can’t see anymore of this. You know he’ll survive this, he has survived worse. But you don’t want anyone else getting hurt on your account. Your mother and father tell you they love you. At least someone in this room has the sentiment in them to say it to your face. You tuck strands of your hair behind your ear, sniffing quietly.

“I’ll be ok, I promise,” you bid, trying to soothe their worries but it’s like they don’t hear you at all, as if you said nothing. You back up, one step at a time before you’re taking your things in both hands again, clutching at the wooden handle of your case like it's the only thing keeping you from floating away. Arthur has his revolver in his holster now. You give them a parting look, trying to absorb as many memories of your childhood as you can, before Arthur guides you out of the door.

The cold greets you again, you pull his coat around you tighter, letting him help you up into the wagon after he places your things in the back of the cart. You hardly look at him, instead watching your parents delicately step outside to watch helplessly as you ride away with Arthur. You can hardly stand to watch as your mother falls in a heap on the cold snow. Your father looks on, a devastation is made clear in his defeated posture, his somber gaze. You bring yourself to do it anyway, looking until you can’t see them anymore.

You don’t talk with Arthur. There’s a stiff air between the both of you. Any minute amount of companionship or whatever fake love he made you feel is gone. He has told your parents what happened, and threatened to kill them if they didn’t let you go. You don’t know what you had imagined when you first arrived at your parents house but it wasn’t this. You had prayed things wouldn’t end in blood but perhaps you were too hopeful to expect Arthur to keep his nature in check.

The clouds from earlier seem to have blown away for now. The winter sun is starting to dip lower, an orange hue lights the horizon beyond the dark trunks of the bare trees.

Arthur lets you have your space and some time to stew but he’s had enough. He heaves a sigh, like he knows you’ll be upset with him. But acting as if it’s unfair that you’re not in the best mood has you just about ready to slap him; consequences be damned.

“Listen, I didn’t want things to go that way,” his voice is hardly apologetic, some stuck on emotion that isn’t sorry one bit.

“So you didn’t mean to shoot my father? Arthur, don’t…I think you’ve said and done enough today,” you warn. You don’t want to listen to him talk. It's like he just likes the sound of his own voice right now more than anything.

“What did you say to your mama anyway? You tell her I held you down? That I violated you? Or you tell her how much you like my tongue inside your-“

“Arthur! Stop it. I- I didn’t say anything. I didn’t have to,” you pull your collar to the side but only slightly. You show him the mark he left on you. “She certainly understood the message,” you want to cry, to show him the angry tears dripping down your face.

“I’m just lucky you didn’t leave my father’s neck a bloody stump, aren’t I?” You spit at him. You let your tears dry, only anger left inside you. A rage you didn’t know you had. An anger you’ve shown him before in brief glimpses when you give him lip but not like this, not quite pushed to the edge as now.

You ignore how his hands tighten on the reins. How his breathing becomes heavier. His eyes track over the mark. A symbol of his supposed ownership. The iris of his eye is such a pretty blue, hidden by the narrowing of his eyes and then the dip of his head, the brim of his hat lowering over them. His body postures, like he wants to act but he holds it all back. His shoulders tense under the brown fur of his coat.

“Maybe my Pa was right, huh? You; Arthur Morgan, can act all high and mighty, but I’m not sure you’re a man at all either,” you let yourself continue, not minding Arthur’s reaction which is about to boil over on you. “I’m not sure men are supposed to act anything like-”

Your defiant tone is clipped short by his hand on your face, the fingers are tight on your cheeks. It doesn’t hurt you but he holds you in place, pinned down like a lamb to be sheared. His eyes are cold now, his face is frighteningly neutral. He makes you look him in his eyes, meeting his frosted gaze. The anger in your face dissolves like sugar in water. Replaced by the surprise of his sudden action.

“Yeah, you are lucky I didn’t blow his head off, leave his brain on the wall for your Mama to scrape off with a goddamn spoon,” his voice is rough and low, touching something in your head that drains all the anger, some old instinct in you. But not a new one, one you’ve had before. Melting into him, the way you did the first time he grabbed you, he held you against the counter. “As for my manhood; I ain’t got nothin’ to prove. But you’re all too familiar with mine, ain’t you, girl?” You burn red hot at his derisive question.

His eyes are focused in a quiet rage, but he shakes his head, as if thinking of something, of a better way to handle it. Hopefully for your sake; something not too rash. Then he moves his sharp gaze to the lonely woods behind you.

“If you want to try and run now, by all means. Be my guest,” it’s maybe the last thing you would think he’d say. It’s against everything he’s done to you, you give him a look, bewildered. No way Arthur would let you go so fast. You’re almost confused but you wait for his catch. Things with Arthur are never so easy.

“But if I catch you, you’re mine,” A strange smirk and a cruel glare are what he offers. That easy cockiness returns to him, his sure attitude, the certainty in his brow. The leather of his gloves is cold on your face still. It’s a game he wants to play with you, a challenge. As if delighted by his own idea, he grins a bit wider.

“I’ll make it fair and easy, how ‘bout it? I give you a chance to get away. And if you do, I’ll go home empty handed, hell I’ll even leave all your stuff here and send your horse back to ya.”

“But I catch you; you come home with me. And you won’t be leavin’ me,” you stare at him, unsure and afraid. He’s giving you one shot at freedom. To leave him behind and go back to your mother and father.

“Arthur, can’t you see you’ve already gotten what you wanted?” you protest lightly. The imagery of besting him, the strong and capable Arthur Morgan does call to you but something isn’t right.

“You want things to be fair; I’m makin’ them fair. You keep actin’ like you don’t want this, like you don’t want me. Now’s your chance to prove it,” Each word he says is dipped in his frustration. He isn’t quite satisfied with how things went in your family’s cabin as much as you thought he would be.

“C’mon, angel,” he sighs, he looks excited. His breath comes heavier, faster. His eyes are blown wide, eclipsing his summer blue and prairie green eyes with darkness like the coldest winter. He’s grinning, pressing into you, his hand pinches at the softness of your cheeks. Not enough to hurt you. Only to remind you of his strength, his tenacity.

His hand floats down to your neck, yours comes up to hold his wrist. He looks too excited, happy to chase you, work for you. Show you the lengths he’s willing to go to. At first you’re not too sure why. You prickle; you know something isn’t right but you’re too attracted to the thought of winning his little game.

“Cute little things like you are good at runnin’. I’ll give you a head start,” his hand leaves you and he begins counting. You’re stuck, like your back is glued to the seat of the wagon.

“Two…Three…” you turn like a brush animal, jumping from the wagon and stumbling a bit before you’re running into the woods.

The rest of the numbers ring out eerily in the quiet of the woods before they fade into the background. Your heart jumps into your throat. He’s serious about this. You pant, lungs burning with cold air, fear pushes at your heels. His coat is heavy on your shoulders but you don’t want to die of hypothermia should you toss it in your haste. You gather it up, before sprinting as fast as you can. The sun's orange light is fading fast but you pay it no mind, kicking up your legs to carry you as far away as you can.

The light snow crunches under your feet and you run into the depths of the woods, where animals sense your coming and rush off, knowing a predator is stalking. You look behind you, face screwed up in fear, adrenaline almost makes you stand still. You can’t see him and you didn’t bother to ask how much time he would give you. Arthur isn’t always the giving type but you hope he has a shred of mercy for you. You think perhaps this is the exception.

Like a deer looking up at the smallest sound. You rush off, trying to pace your running. Eventually, your legs tire, your side hurts and your nose and lungs start to ache from the cold dry air flowing through them. You lean against a tree a moment, panting, feeling warm, uncomfortable in the fur of the coat. Your thoughts run dry like a dusty river bed, all you can think of is escaping. Getting away from Arthur.

You keep going for as long as you can but fatigue pulls at the muscles of your legs and thighs. You continue, looking for somewhere to hide at least. It’s quiet, no birds, no animals, no wind to even sway the branches of the trees. All you can hear is your own blood, your own breath. The puff of your gasping into the winter air clouds up before your eyes.

You look out at the trees, black slender trunks that reach far too high for you to climb. All of the brush has decayed for the winter. You see a part of the forest that tilts downwards, perhaps a bit too steep but you don’t have another choice.

You slip down the hill, trying to stay upright. You land in somewhat of a heap, on your behind at the bottom of the hill. There’s a cropping of some rocks and you can find something to hide behind, large enough for you to stay hidden. You cover your mouth, your heart beating under your chest. like you’ve trapped a song bird in your rib cage.

You don’t know what you did to be here. Except perhaps needing help in a vulnerable moment. You kick yourself, you should have just ran down the road back home but in all of your fluster, you ran into the woods, like a scared rabbit. Just to get away. You don’t know what Arthur will do should he find you but you know it won’t be a happy reunion, not a playful meeting like two children playing hide and seek. It will be something else, much more like when a wolf corners a lost animal. A domesticated creature meeting a wild beast of prey.

You wait there for what feels like the longest hours of your life. The sunlight almost disappears, it gets much darker than before, the dusk starts to close in. Especially in the valley of this little hill you hide in. It gets colder as the light fades. Through the quiet, you can hear him, his boots crunch heavily through the snow.

“Y’know, you ain’t any good at covering your tracks,” he steps up to the top of the hill you had gone down. His voice makes your blood run cold, you tense up, as if sensing he’s looking in your direction.

“But I played fair, gave you a little while,” he grunts as he makes his way down the hill. Much less sloppier than you. Your eyes squeeze shut, you clench your hands. You had forgotten all of his hunting trophies, all of the guns he had on display. He set out already knowing he would win. You deliberate bursting from your hiding place or waiting to see if he’ll find you.

In a split second, you’re up on your feet, running in another direction. He’s after you, you’re sure of it, you know you can’t stop. You can feel the desperate noises in your throat. You try to make it as far as you can, but Arthur has his arms, corded in muscle, around your waist. You let out a strangled squeak, as he lifts you off the ground briefly with a scary amount of ease.

“There you are, princess,” he has pride, a self assured happiness. But he isn’t surprised at all. He has you on the ground, even as you struggle against him. “Been lookin for you,” you’re held down in no time at all really, even as you struggle against his grip on you. Arthur is entirely too heavy.

“Settle down, girl, it’s alright,” he’s shushing you. You exhaust yourself, feeling yourself heave and sob in his arms. Why couldn’t he be a bit scrawnier? You wish he were the kind of man who could be easily kicked off but he’s anything but. The adrenaline courses through you, making you jitter but all you can feel is the defeat. Quiet resignation calms you down, letting yourself go in his arms. He’s much too strong for you to put up any real challenge. You should have known he had this in mind, an easy win.

“I got what’s mine. My wife…” He mutters, gloved hands petting your hair. The satisfaction in his voice sends shivers down your spine, the dredges of what feeling you had for him stir, even after his treatment of you and your parents. You wiggle, whining, trying to shake his hand off if you. Your heart beats faster at his words. His wife. You don’t want it to have an effect on you but you can’t help it, wincing in embarrassment. You watch helplessly as he bites his gloves off his hands, clearly intent on feeling every bit of you with nothing between your skin and the heat of his fingertips.

“Deals a deal, sweetheart, ain’t much else to it,” he sighs, a sarcastic disappointment in his voice. His face is so close to yours, he puts some of his weight on you to keep your half hearted thrashing to a minimum. You try to give him all you can in the way of defiance. But you know Arthur. He won’t let you go. This is his commitment to you.

His hips jolt, nudge your thigh provocatively. And you just now realize how his breathing hasn’t slowed down like yours. His eyes are wild, still swallowed in the black of his pupils, a crooked smirk pushes at his lips. You should have known better than to think Arthur would lose this hunt. He was destined to win. And you were always going to be the prey he would catch.

I would like to thank Twistidkiwi over on ao3 for the arthur hunting you idea, it was just... too good 🥹🥹🥹🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ thank you queen!! i hope you guys liked it!! i would just let arthur get my ass after like 3 miinutes of chasing me LOL ohhh nooo you caught me 😳thank you so much for reading and lmk what you think !! until ch 10 😏Series Masterlist

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 10: Passing out from pain

I’m soooooo glad I had this prewritten guys you have no idea. Who’s ready for a Hyrule blood curse fic? 😈

Warnings: blood and severe injury, brief body horror, uncertain fate of a character

Ao3 link

Continuation (day 18)

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The blade sinks through his chest, and with it, seals Hyrule’s doom.

He can’t even scream anymore, his voice raw from threats and defiance and previous cries already torn from his throat. Ropes keep him from moving anything except for his head, and even if they weren’t, he’s so exhausted from the lack of nourishment and every last-ditch escape effort he’s made in the past couple days that he couldn’t move even if he wanted to.

So when the blade rips through him, right below his ribs, all that comes out of Hyrule’s throat is a breathy whimper.

It changes to a keening whine when the sword is twisted in his gut, the sound thick with agony. Blood gushes when the sword is pulled back out, and Hyrule lets out a weak cry, watching through blurry vision as his skin turns red with it.

Blood pools below him in a slight indentation in the stone, the rock cut precisely for this moment. It trails down the side, and Hyrule forces himself to watch as it lands in a large bowl with a pile of ashes, which immediately begin to smoke.

An angry sob tears from his throat as more of his blood spills, howls of victory and glee a cacophony in his ears. He fought tooth and nail against this ever happening, yet here he is, like a lamb at the slaughter, his blood spilled and Ganon’s return imminent.

And nobody comes to help him.

Hyrule closes his eyes then, shaking in pain and grief. He’d fallen through a portal alone, right into a near army of monsters in his homeland. Caught off-guard and dizzy from dark magic, he’d given the fight everything he had, but it hadn’t been enough. He’d been hit over the head and dragged away, and despite his endless attempts at freedom, nothing had worked.

The others had never shown up.

Goddesses if nothing else, send them to fix my mess, Hyrule pleads as he hears an unearthly squelch come from the ashes, and the monsters roar in excitement. Even if I have to die, help them stop him, don’t let my land be destroyed because of me.

A hissing sound is coming from the ashes now, dark magic coalescing and feeding off of Hyrule’s blood. It’s like ice in his veins, sharp and deadly cold, and Hyrule sobs again, giving a weak thrash against his bonds.

He can’t let them win. He can’t.

He can’t.

The dark magic is leeching off of him like a parasite now, feeding off of his blood and magic, stealing his energy and very lifeblood to use for its own purposes. The chanting around him speeds, excitement thrumming in the air. Hyrule hears something move beside him, drag itself through the ashes, and if he’d eaten anything in the past few days, it would be coming up now.

“More,” a voice rasps, phlegmy and horrific, and more tears born of pain roll down Hyrule’s cheeks as the blade sinks through him in a different part of his chest. He chokes, and it’s pulled out and slashed at his sides and arms as well. By then the pain is blocking out so much of his world that Hyrule doesn’t realize it at first when the blade is dragged from his shoulder straight down to the opposite hip.

He would scream, but what energy he had is being siphoned away from him, and all he can do is shudder with a cough that tastes like blood. His whole body feels soaked with it, and an almost hilarious thought drifts through his mind that it’s a good thing the monsters stripped him of everything but his shorts, otherwise he’d be washing bloodstains out for months.

As if I’ll live that long.

He convulses with another wracking cough, and blood spatters up with it, pain dulling so much of his world. For some reason the only clear sense he has left is his hearing, and his ears are filled with his own agonized breaths, chants and cheers of monsters, the gut-churning sounds of bones popping together and skin forming over flesh beside him.

He’s shocked he isn’t dead yet, but the dark magic probably has a hand in that. It’s siphoning even more greedily now, and Hyrule feels it increase and increase and increase until all he can do is shake and gasp from the pain it leaves him with.

It abruptly triples and rips a broken scream from his throat (apparently he is still capable of such noises), making his back arch and vision go red with agony. It only lasts a few moments, but they’re like a lifetime.

When it eases and Hyrule finally falls still, all he can do is drag in a trembling, wretched hiccup.

And then the laughter starts.

It begins at first weak and croaking, as if it has to remember how to make such a sound. But as the minutes tick by, it grows louder, and deeper, and so familiar that Hyrule nearly wails with the weight of his failure.

He’s back.

Oh gods he’s back.

Hyrule keeps his eyes closed as the laughter continues, his body finally gone limp. It’s the one comfort he has left, and the darkness behind his eyelids is getting deeper at the edges, the kind Hyrule only ever sees when things are really bad. But the moment he begins to drift into its edges, the stabbing ice of dark magic drags him back, wracking him with another bubbling cough.

Footsteps trail closer to him, different then that of the monsters who’ve been prowling around the stone. Fingers—claws abruptly grab his chin, tilting his face around, and Hyrule feels blood drip down his face.

“I know you live, Hero. Look at me.”

The voice is familiar and not, booming and smooth, yet holding an inhuman growl, one that makes Hyrule involuntarily shudder.

The claws grip tighter when he doesn’t obey, breaking skin. Despite how Hyrule doesn’t want to do anything that voice tells him, let his final act be one of defiance, his curiosity of what his failure has done gets the better of him.

He drags opens his eyes, and sees a monster.

Ganon isn’t a beast like when Hyrule fought him— but neither is he entirely a man. He’s some sort of mix of the two, claws rather than fingers, hooves instead of feet. His hair is more of a mane than anything, and where there isn’t fur, his skin has a blueish tone to it, one Hyrule wishes he didn’t remember so well.

Ganon’s face is largely human, though the features aren’t quite right, a snout-like nose, sharp teeth... especially the red eyes, shot through with a terrifyingly intelligent yellow. Those eyes study Hyrule in silence, the laughter subsided.

He tilts Hyrule’s head side to side, and Ganon leans so close to him that Hyrule can see the flecks of black in his eyes.

“This is the child who slew me?” he growls, digging his claws even tighter into Hyrule’s jaw. Hyrule can’t control the way his breath hitches in pain, and a smirk pulls at Ganon’s mouth, revealing fangs so large they’re almost tusks. “Pathetic.”

Ganon abruptly drops his chin, scoring marks along his cheek, and Hyrule can only watch as he studies the crimson on his hands, leaning forward to sniff it. A grin pulls at his lips, and he suddenly drags a clawed hand across Hyrule’s chest, coating his palm in blood as Hyrule chokes back another whimper of pain.

Ganon raises it up for the crowd of monsters to see, fingers dripping with red.

Then presses it to his bare chest, and the monsters roar at the handprint of blood left there when he removes it.

Ganon raises his hand to his mouth then, his tongue flicking out as he licks the remaining blood off his claws, and Hyrule chokes back bile. The monsters around them continue to roar, watching as their master licks their enemy’s blood from his hand, but they fall silent as he finishes, and raises a fist.

“Hyrule will be ours!” he roars, and the monsters roar with him, blin and poe, wizzrobe and daira, all ecstatic at the return of their master.

Ganon probably gives more of a speech of some kind then, one that whips the monsters into a near frenzy, but Hyrule doesn’t hear any of it, lost in his failure and brokenness. Blood still drips from his wrecked chest, sticky and hot against his freezing skin. His whole body is pain, his world is that of darkness and blood, and he doesn’t know why he isn’t dead yet.

Am I not even granted that release?

Something wet falls down his cheek, and Hyrule doesn’t know whether it’s blood or tears.

Just breathing is agony in its purest form, and Hyrule’s wet rasps grow weaker with every gurgling exhale. Claws grip at his chin again after a bit, pressing until his eyes open, and Hyrule sees Ganon leering at him mere inches from his face.

“Not yet, little hero,” Ganon growls, victory glinting in his eyes. “As much as I’d like to watch you drown in your own blood, I have use of you yet.”

Hyrule glares through the pain and his tears, rage at the beast in front of him granting him just a bit of energy. “G... g-go to... hhh—”

His chest convulses and blood spurts from his mouth in a weak cough again, making Ganon laugh.

He abruptly slams a clawed hand down on Hyrule’s middle, and his world explodes into white and red, swirling with stars that bleed almost as much as he is.

If he screams, he doesn’t hear it.

He can’t breathe, not through the pressure and pain in his middle, his throat full of liquid he’s too weak to expel. Hyrule gags and writhes, tears slipping down his nose, all while Ganon watches with a delighted smirk.

“Bring him,” he hears faintly, and Hyrule wants to do everything he can to stop that voice. He wants to scream and fight and protect his world from the monster he’s created, steal a sword and drive it through Ganon’s chest before he can do anything else, but he’s too drained. Too powerless.

Too weak.

All he can do is sob one last desperate prayer that his brothers will do what he couldn’t, and then his vision spirals from red to black.

[butmakeitgayblog]

Jumping in on the CI appreciation. The dynamic is just so fun and deceptively beautiful as messed up as they are. You are a great writer and have a unique way of captivating a reader. Kudos and much success however you choose to pursue your talent! Speaking of… have you written or plan on writing that blowout fight scene (post hospital release) where Lexa draws the proverbial line so to say?

CI fight 😈

///////////////////////

This is the stupidest you've ever felt in your life.

Which is saying a lot, considering the sheer amount of reckless and dumb shit you have done.

But this absolutely takes the cake you decide as your hired nurse wheels you into your lounge room, the sheets already turned back on your couch-turned-makeshift bed and the mountain of your wife's borrowed pillows that are already fluffed to within an inch of their goddamn life.

Your hip kills every time you try to stand on it and your back feels like it'd gone one too many rounds with a baseball bat, and thanks to the four fractured bones in your wrist, you can't even deal with it on your own with the use of a crutch or cane. So instead, you hang on to this fucking stranger and woddle over like a toddler, sweating through all three herculean steps it takes until you can sink down into the godsend that is your new recovery zone.

You wave her off with your good arm once she gets you settled. Tell her you're fine and to stop fucking hovering because you didn't even really need a nurse to move in with you to begin with.

But your wife had insisted and left no room for argument, and well... You're not very good at telling her no when she's upset.

So here the hell you are.

Your grousing is hushed by the sweeter notes of your wife's voice when she comes trailing in behind you with that familiar sharp clicking of her heels.

She apologizes for your lack of manners and tells RN Whats-her-name she can go get settled in the guest room that she'd already showed her - you suppose she must have gotten the grand tour at some point while you were still laid up in the hospital.

Ass out in a gown and perpetually high as a kite.

Not your finest point in life.

Not the lowest either.

At least the drugs made it a good time...

Your temple throbs when your 'guest' excuses herself and snaps the doors shut behind her, making you groan and reach to rub at the bandage taped to the side of your head.

Fingers quicker than yours catch you before you can do any damage.

"Don't," Lexa warns you in a whisper more gently than you had expected, considering she's had to remind you three times already today.

You murmur your sorries and pout because it hurts, but can't help but breathe lighter when she slips into the space between your legs.

Rather than settling in your lap as you'd foolishly hoped for, she perches on the edge of the coffee table instead. She smells so good and her gorgeous face is so serene when she gets comfortable and looks at you dead in the eye.

But then she folds her fingers together and she leans her elbows on her knees, and you already know you're in for some kind of ass chewing.

Fantastic.

She levels you with that 'wife look' she gets. The one that tells you that she means business.

Nobody warned you about that when you'd agreed to this whole 'marriage' thing.

"So," she breathes, only pausing to lick her kissable lips, "Welcome home, Darling."

You snort a laugh through your nose that still hurts where it's swollen but the good drugs kinda help you not care. "Thanks for having me, babe. Nice place you got here," you say in sarcasm-dipped words.

She merely hums and gives you a narrow-eyed grin that feels sexy and distinctly lethal.

"Yes. I've missed you in it. I've missed having you here. With me."

That softens you. Lulls you into a false sense of security.

"I missed you too, baby."

"Good. Then," she says in a quick breath that sounds not unlike ripping off a bandaid. "I wanted you to know that I've taken the liberty of finding a buyer. Well, a few of them, really. All predictably salivating over the collection. But I supposed it'd be appropriate that we talk about the logistics of this before moving forward. I'm open to deferring to your expertise in this field when it came to numbers because, frankly, I'm more than willing to just give the fucking things away. So, we should talk about this."

You smile, because you're an idiot, and you think it's hilarious that she's talking to you like one of her clients. But you also smile because you're a little high off your medicine, and she's really just so pretty, and because not one word of that made any sense.

"What's... 'this'? What're you— Talk about the logistics of what?"

"Selling your cars," she answers with an easy nod, like it absolutely should've been obvious.

The silence that rings through the apartment feels loud in your ears... before you burst out laughing right in her face.

"What?" you choke out and chuckle, because you must've heard that wrong. "What are you talking about?"

"Just what I said, my love." She reaches out boops the tip of your nose with a patronizingly scrunched smile. "You know I don't like repeating myself."

"That's cute, Lexa," you titter and swipe at the hand that's already so far out of reach.

"Oh I'm not kidding, Clarke."

"Okay. And I'm not selling my cars."

"No, actually, you are."

You scoff and use the shoulder that isn't currently trussed up in a sling to push you hair off your neck so you can see her better. Or... something.

Because all you really see is the calm of her smile. Those eyes that are sharp. Hollow. Unyielding. And if you'd looked beyond the swell of anger that suddenly bursts through your chest, you might've seen the whispered-smoke of terror that hid in their depths.

But you do not.

Instead you focus all of your righteous indignation and stubbornness that burns white hot. You give a derisive laugh, and shake your head, and level her with a cold stare of your own.

Making sure she hears your every word, loud and clear.

"No. The fuck. I am not."

It almost feels like victory when her smile falls away.

"Clarke," she says with a deathly click to your name, "I want those deathtraps gone."

"Lexa—"

"I don't care."

"Lexa—"

"Stop saying my name, because whatever comes after it, I promise you, I do not care."

"Well I don't really fucking care either," you spit just to get a rise out of her, "because I'm not doing it, and I don't give shit what you say, Alexandria."

Her jaw ticks to the side as her eyes flash with hellfire.

She hates that name and you know it but right now you just want her to be every bit as angry as you are.

"Okay," she says so quiet you barely hear her over the hammering of your heart as she pushes on her knees to stand up and hovers over you for a moment.

And you think it's a victory because it feels like a victory...

Until it does not.

Because she just nods.

And keeps nodding.

Just this slow up and down of her head, her eyes empty and her face cold, but not in the way that you fell in love with.

This only fills your chest with dread.

So it's a shock when she straddles your hips, planting one knee on each side and sinks down to sit in your lap. Her weight is comforting after your stay in the hospital, if not a little painful in the way it twinges your fucked up leg. But you don't even let yourself flinch because God you've missed this. You've missed her, and her scent, and the way she practically drapes herself over you.

Your good arm wraps around her waist and digs fingertips into the soft dip of her spine, pulling her flush against you. You soak up the flutter of her lashes at the feel of your breasts pressing against hers; the way she fidgets not to grind down like her body's muscle memory is obviously screaming at her to do.

Instead she stares at you through those dark hooded eyes, now so beautifully filled with emotions that make your heart pound out a more pleasant rhythm than before.

"I love you, Clarke," she says. Whispers.

And your breath catches in your chest.

Same as it does each time she says those words, so fleeting and so rare as they are that they pierce straight through the mushiest parts of your heart. Because you know she loves you. You know it in every single thing she does. But there's just... It's just... Nothing will ever rival these moments when she lets them slip out, so unguarded and vulnerable with you.

And really... that should've been a warning.

"And I love you, pretty girl," you whisper right back instead, grinning as she preens under the praise, so lost in her beautiful face you don't even remember there exists a world beyond her.

You watch her throat dip in a thick swallow, her hands smoothing up the length of your neck. She cups your cheeks as her eyes trace every line of your face... as if she were committing this moment to memory.

She shakes her head. Sadly.

"I adore you," she says again, softer still and with more conviction. "Everything. I adore everything about you, Clarke. I love you more than I have ever loved anything in my entire life. And I'm always going to love you, no matter what."

When she kisses you then, in that moment, it's possibly the softest, purest thing you have ever known. She kisses you like it's the only thing she needs in this world and you hope she knows it's the same for you. Because her lips pillow and give under every caress of your lips, and her tongue slipping against yours feels like the only home you've ever known. It's one kiss among thousands you've shared. But you know you'll think of this one for years to come, and honestly if fighting gets you loving like this then you should really make a mental note to call her by her birth name more often...

She breaks the kiss with a sigh, and a shuddering breath against your lips.

"I love you. So, so much... I just want you to always remember that."

You barely have time to blink out of your haze when she extracts herself from your arms and your lap and your lips, and stands up on shakey legs.

She lets out a deep breath and smooths her hands along the front herself, rigidly primping herself free of any creases you might've left.

Her chin rises in that regal arch as she looks down at you and nods once again.

"I'll have our lawyer draw up the divorce papers in the morning."

Your hand snaps out when she turns to leave and catches her shirt cuff before you even have time to think, gritting your teeth to try and bite back the sudden shock of pain that slices up your arm and explodes through your shoulder.

"Wait, what the fuck did you just say?" you practically yelp.

Her icy glare drops to the hand that holds her, jaw flexing as she watches how bad you tremble.

"Let go of me."

"Uh, no—"

"If you don't," she cuts in, enunciating with lethal precision, "I'll have to rip my arm away, and that will hurt you more, and I don't want that. Now stop acting like a child, and let go of me."

You grit your teeth and fist her cuff harder through the cold sweat of pain. "I guess you'll have to hurt me then, because I'm not letting go until you repeat what the hell you just said."

"You heard me perfectly well, my love."

"No, I don't think I did."

"Then you'll figure it out tomorrow, won't you."

You let out a strangled sound and collapse back on the couch - both from the pain and the sheer terror ripping through you. "Lexa, what is this? What are you playing at? Why are you doing this?"

"I'm not playing at anything, I'm telling you that I'm not doing this with you ever again, Clarke," she says in her crisp business voice. "The hospitals. The sitting at your bedside. The wondering if you're ever going to be able to paint again. Watching you limp around for weeks, just to turn around and do it again. I'm done."

You roll your eyes at her dramatics. "Oh my god, are serious? It was just an accident—"

"One that could've killed you."

"It wasn't even my fault."

"That's not the point," she nearly growls, all fire and fangs. "This is your third accident in four fucking years. I can't keep doing this."

"And what exactly is 'this'?"

"Waiting around to lose you!"

Your ears ring at the volume of her shout.

You swallow as she takes a moment collect herself.

Feel the lump grow in your throat as she mindlessly fiddles with the diamond on her finger.

You know it's a habit that calms her when she's feeling particularly out of control. A tick she picked up and never seemed to kick somewhere around the third year you were married.

"I trusted you," she starts again, sounding calmer. Less shaken, but still frayed at the edges. "I told how I feel about you. I told you I wouldn't— Couldn't... survive without you."

"So your solution is to divorce me now?" you scoff. "Tell me, how does that makes sense?"

"Because I have loved exactly two people in my life, Clarke... And this way? At least I won't have to bury one of them."

It's like a bucket of goddamn ice water has just been upturned over your head.

You can't help but stare at her, dumbfounded.

Because you are... so fucking stupid.

Your heart twists and it pounds and for a split second you wonder if you're having a heart attack, or if maybe this is what they mean when they talk about broken heart syndrome. Because nothing has ever hurt this bad. Nothing has ever devastated you as much this tidal wave of guilt. Nothing has ever scared you; made you feel this kind of shame so deep in your bones.

And when she drops her hands like she's given up and turns toward the door, you almost feel like you're going to throw up with the way your stomach clenches in a fresh wave of terrified dread. You want nothing more than to pop up and run over to her and explain and just fix this, but your hip and your leg and you just—You just...

You did this.

You did all of this.

"Okay," you damn near yell, sounding distinctly like a wounded animal to your own ears.

She pulls to a stop and snaps back around, "Okay, what?"

"I said... okay."

"Okay, what?"

"Okay, I'll fucking get rid of them," you bite right back again, desperate and annoyed and shaking so badly it's making your shoulder ache.

She stares at you, placid and unmoved.

"All of them?"

You grit your jaw and blow a breath out. "All of them... The dangerous ones at least."

She clicks her tongue and starts to turn away when you yell—

"You have to compromise with me here!"

She wheels back around with thunder in her eyes and a snarl already twisting her lips.

You know you have never needed to talk faster in your life.

"The ones that aren't street legal, they're gone, okay? Nothing that is actually dangerous stays. But I'm not getting rid of the ones that are perfectly safe, and, Lexa, I'm not getting rid of my grandfather's car. It's the only thing I have from my fucked up family that means anything to me, and it's mine, and it's not fair of you to even consider making me get rid of it."

"You hate that fucking thing—"

"I don't hate it, I love that car! That car changed my life! That car got me you."

You watch the rage bleed out of her as she slumps at the shoulders.

She runs a hand through the controlled chaos of her hair.

"That car did not get you me, Clarke," she strains out in a sigh, sounding tired and beautifully frail. "We're married because I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. Because I fell in love with you. Because I'm in love with you."

It makes your heart squeeze tight all over again.

"Maybe, but you wanted that car before you ever wanted me—"

"That is not true," she cuts you off in a hush of a whisper.

She stares at you with eyes clouded with devastation and hurt, and for the life of you, you don't know how to fix it.

You never seem to know how to...

The air between you feels frozen for a long moment before she seems to make up her mind about something all at once.

She shakes her head as she crosses the room in quick, elegant strides and drops to her knees right in front of you.

"Listen to me," she says, and tenderly - so tenderly - takes your least injured hand and folds it into her own. "There are so many things I regret about my life. But making that bet, and losing it, are not included. Half of the reason I ever even wanted that car to begin with was because of how attracted to you I was whenever I saw you in it."

Your scoff is loud enough to give your concussion addled brain another headache. "You are such a liar, Lexa."

Your belly swoops when she flits that damn eyebrow up in challenge.

"While I appreciate your assessment of my moral virtues," she practically purrs, "on this, darling, you happen to be wrong... All that windswept blonde hair? The way you looked like you owned everyone and everything in those shaders that you'd so carelessly slip down before pulling away?"

You wonder if you even still have those sunglasses as she bites her lip and lets her eyes run the length of you.

You'll have to check the next time you can walk properly.

Maybe have them make a reappearance at your next brunch date.

Just for old time's sake.

The hand holding yours squeezes gently.

"You were so damn cocky. The way you'd throw that thing in park and hop out. You'd just toss your keys at the doorman like you didn't care about anything. I hated it so much," she laughs with a rueful grin that slips into something entirely more fond. "And yet I could never seem to make myself stop staring at you, darling."

Even after all these years of marriage, the thought of younger her having wanted younger you...

You shift at the throb that weakly pulses between your thighs.

"So... You made the bet because... you thought I was sexy in my car?"

"I made the bet because I thought you were entirely too full of yourself," she corrects, "which I still believe. But I wanted the car because I'd envisioned getting fucked in it more times than I could count."

God you love it when she gets vulgar.

She reaches up and brushes a curl away from your forehead.

"It just took me a little while longer to realize that the person I had been imagining fucking me was - annoyingly - very much you."

You know your smile is kind of dopey right now rather than the teasing slope that you're aiming for, but later when you look back on this moment, you'll definitely blame it on the drugs.

"So our marriage is based off you wanting me to top you in my grandfather's car?"

Her faces pulls up in distaste. "No. It's based off the fact that you are—"

She pauses and exhales something from deep in her chest, her eyes closing under the weight of whatever it is she's feeling as she finally trembles out,

"That you are everything to me."

You really really really kind of hate that you're injured in that moment, because when she opens her eyes they glisten with a lovely wet sheen. And you just want nothing more than to scoop her up and hold her in your arms. Because it's where she belongs. It's where she's always been meant to be...

"You're everything to me too, baby," you say because she is and she should know it, and you really need to remember to say it more often. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Lexa, I didn't— I didn't mean to..."

She nods when you can't find the words and kisses the bruised ridge of your knuckles.

Rests her forehead there for a moment as though in prayer.

When she looks at you again she's already pulled herself back together.

That's part of why you love her so much.

Always unbreakable.

Except... when it comes to you.

You have no idea what to do with that knowledge, but you know you'd give up anything just to keep it.

And you love her so much that it makes you smile. It makes you smile, because you just want to see her smile at you again. Always.

"Hey," you say, tossing in a lazy wink because you know she hates it. "You totally had a crush on me."

She rolls her eyes. "You're an idiot."

"You had a cuh-ruuuuush on me."

"Clarke. I am married to you—"

"Still," you snort. "Loser."

Her sigh of resignation is so weary it fills your heart close to bursting with how much love you have for this woman.

Because she doesn't fight you on that. Just leans her forehead against yours and nods, kissing your lips soft enough to not make the cut on them bleed again. Her nose brushes against yours in a sweet moment of aching tenderness, and when she pulls back to look at you beneath the fall of her lashes, the whole world is once again nothing but her.

"We'll go through each one together," she says somewhere between a question and a statement.

You nod in agreement, just to be safe.

"Anything remotely questionable, goes."

You heave a sigh but dutifully nod again.

"That means anything without the right mirrors, or proper turning signals. Engines that might blow up for no reason. Anything that was recalled decades ago. Anything with brakes that have a habit of failing... Anything that doesn't have fucking seat belts."

As her list grows you mentally tick off a good two-thirds of your collection.

You glance at her lips and remember how they feel against yours first thing in the morning, and simply nod again.

"Fine. But also? You can't just start threatening divorce every time you want me to do something, you know," you murmur still, because while you're compromising here... you really feel the need to remind her that she's not domesticating you or anything.

She doesn't seem remotely affected by your pout when she just shrugs and grins and leans forward.

You feel distinctly like a puppy on a leash when she pecks a placating kiss to your lips.

And then another to the tip of your nose.

"We'll see."

[vennshine]

Self indulgent post again cause nobody can stop me 😈😈

[ellethespaceunicorn]

I hope you are having a woooooonderful Friday!! 🥰

I was the anon requesting the Lloyd fic with him accidentally discovering that his assistant is hot lol and I LOVED IT. I can see she won't make it easy for him!

I wanted to know what you would think of Lloyd running into one of those toxic red pill/alpha male types after they corner his girl (or who he claims as his girl 😏 that's up to you) being gross to her.

Those types just make me so mad, I think Lloyd would teach them a good lesson and put them in their place 😈

TYSM for your time and the lovely words you give us! 💜

OMG my sweet Lloyd nonnie, this took me two months to post but literally only like three days to write. I'm a whole mess, but I really like this story and I hope you do too!!!!

Title: A Duke and His Duchess

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Soft!Dark!Lloyd Hansen x Chubby!Black!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2K

Summary: The night takes a dark turn when you are harassed at the club, but Lloyd comes to your rescue.

Warnings: Lloyd is a warning all on his own: possessive!Lloyd, soft!dark!Lloyd, lovey-dovey!Lloyd. Toxic “alpha male” behavior, Lloyd’s butterfly knife making an appearance, physical violence (some involving Reader), vaginal fingering, unprotected p-in-v sex, creampie, mention of bodily fluids.

A/N: Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best. 

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist

The look that crosses his face says everything before his mouth can do so. He groans in the back of his throat, walking over to where you stand in front of the mirror, scrutinizing your outfit. He winks at you in the reflection and kisses where your neck meets your shoulder. His hands slide over your ample hips and grab a handful of your plump rump.

“Don’t you get started. You promised me that we were going out tonight,” you say, turning around and putting your manicured hands on his pecs.

“That’s not fair, Duchess. You put on this outfit, and my blood flow goes straight to my cock,” he sighs, pulling you closer so you can feel his heavy erection pressing against your mound.

Sliding your hands down his chest, you palm his length, and he hisses in response. “Is this all for me, Duke?” You squeeze him, and he closes his eyes, leaning his head back.

“Who the fuck else would it be for? I mean, look at you,” he implores, letting his eyes wander over your clothing. 

He was always a fan of this outfit because it hugs all your curves. The halter top accents your full breasts with a healthy amount of cleavage. The high-waisted fitted skirt shows off your wide hips and thick thighs and stops under your knee. A pair of stilettos with a little buckle that Lloyd bends down to secure completes the ensemble.

You feel the heat rise to your cheeks and praise the melanin gods that blessed you with the ability to hide your blushing. Lloyd finishes buckling your heel, then rises to his full height. Holding your chin with his thumb and forefinger, he lays a sweet kiss upon your lips before nuzzling his nose with yours. 

“After you, Duchess,” he croons, stepping out of the way and letting you walk ahead of him. You already know that he just wants to watch your hips sway while you walk in front of him, but damn if you don’t love how much he covets your body. And if you put a little extra oomph in your step, he wasn’t mad about it.

Lloyd stops the car at the curb and exits the car, tossing the keys to the valet. Walking around to the passenger side, he shoos away the other attendant trying to assist you in exiting the vehicle. 

Nobody touches you when Lloyd is around.

He takes your hand, and you step onto the sidewalk, taking in the view of the line to get into the club. Lloyd pulls you along with him as he bypasses the line and walks up to the bouncer. They exchange a few words, and the very large, and probably armed, man at the door unlatches the velvet rope and ushers you in.

The lights in the place are spinning in dizzying patterns with blues, purples, and pinks. The music is both heard and felt as it thumpingly exits the speakers. Lloyd waves down a girl and she comes running. You’re a bit confused as he whispers something in her ear. Before you can ask him about it, you’re pulled in the direction of one of the tables on the upper level that overlooks the dancefloor.

In true Lloyd fashion, he gets the best table, and there is already champagne on ice waiting for you when you sit down. He pops the bottle and pours you both a healthy amount of the bubbly golden liquid. He toasts to you, as always. You clink your glasses and empty your drink in one go. Lloyd is there to refill your glass, watching and smiling as you dance a little in your seat as the DJ rolls from one song to the next. 

The opening notes of Cobra hit your ears, and you can’t stop yourself from singing along with Megan Thee Stallion.

🎶

Long as everybody gettin' paid, right?

Everything'll be okay, right?

I'm winnin', so nobody trippin'

Bet if I ever fall off, everybody go missin'

🎶

You don’t remember closing your eyes in the middle of singing and enjoying the song. When you open them, Lloyd is sitting next to you, and he has that look on his face. The look that expressly means that he wants to watch you dance, and more specifically, he wants to watch you shake that thang. 

You don’t keep him waiting for long. Standing up, you set your glass down on the table in front of you. Moving over to stand in front of Lloyd, you let the music move through your body as you start to give him a little show.

You sway your hips, bending forward to lean on the table. With your ass in the air, you twerk for your man, and he is in heaven. When you make it clap, you feel his hands on your ass. 

He doesn’t want to stop you; he just wants to feel ‘the motion of the ocean’ as you dance just for him. You look over your shoulder at him, and he is definitely in his happy place. His tongue snakes out to wet his lips, his eyes laser-focused on your derriere until you giggle. Blue eyes meet yours, and his mouth upturns; that devilish little smirk silently tells you he’s pleased.

He moves his hands to your hips and pulls you back to sit in his lap. Between your gyrations, you can feel how pleased he truly is. That is if the hardness in his pants is anything to go by. 

Song after song, you tease him with a lap dance. Making sure to grind into him this way and that, allowing him the opportunity for his hands to wander. As the music changes to something a little different, you notice that you and Lloyd have emptied the champagne. He offers to have another bottle brought over, but you wouldn’t mind walking up to the bar yourself.

He begrudgingly lets you raise from his lap. You saunter away, heading to the bar on the lower level. Ordering a margarita, you wait while the bartender makes a few drinks at the same time. 

You feel eyes on you and turn to see a man watching you from a distance. His hazel eyes catch yours, and you smile politely, then turn away. The bartender hands you the strawberry-flavored drink, and before you can pay him, a hand reaches over yours and beats you to it. 

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing paying for her drinks?” A deep baritone escapes his boringly pretty face, and you instantly feel something off about him.

“Can’t a woman just buy a drink without the third degree?” You pick up your drink and sip while looking him up and down.

“Please don’t act like you’re not impressed. Just calm down, baby,” he says.

“Don’t call me baby, first of all. Secondly, what do I have to be impressed about? The fact you can pay for a $12 drink? Good job. Not interested,” you lament, turning to walk away. A hand gripping your arm stops you.

“Look, we got off on the wrong foot. How about you recognize when a man is being nice to you? You must not be used to getting attention. Let me break it down for you: I buy you a drink; we enjoy a little time together. And if you’re lucky, I might even fuck you,” he negs, standing up straight so he towers over you.

“Let my arm go, creep!” You shout, failing to tug your arm out of his grasp.

The grip on your arm gets impossibly tighter as he leans in to speak, “Listen here, you fat bitch. Ain’t nobody here looking out for you. So, it would be best if you do as you’re told and be a good little slut.”

Your eyes shut tight out of fear, and suddenly the clench on your arm is gone. You open your eyes, and the man is still in front of you; his eyes are wide as a butterfly knife is held under his throat.

“Alright, man! Be cool! I wasn’t-”

“Oh, what? You weren’t doing anything? You weren’t treating my woman like some piece of meat, like what? Fucking toxic, red pill, alpha male wannabe. No, I bet you weren’t doing anything,” Lloyd seethes, pressing the knife a bit further into the man’s skin. “I think you owe her an apology before I cut your fucking head off, sweet pea.”

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, I swear,” he cries, a tear escaping one eye and wetting his silk shirt.

Lloyd turns to you and sees you cradling your arm. His anger reaches a boiling point, and he moves the knife to his left hand before punching the man in the jaw and knocking him out. “Apology accepted, asshole,” he spits, stepping over him to get to you.

He carefully examines your arm while the other clubgoers start to gather. He turns back to the asshole, and you watch as his jaw clenches. You know he wants to cut this man up and feed him to the dogs, but you bring his attention back to you. 

“Duke!” You shout, and when his eyes meet yours, you pull him behind you to the exit. Once the valet brings the car around, Lloyd opens your door and closes it behind you softly. Walking around the front of the car, he runs a finger through his hair before entering the car and slamming the door shut.

He pulls away from the curb and starts down the busy street, mumbling to himself about how he wanted to kill that shithead for laying even a finger on you. At a red light, you notice his grip on the steering wheel is leaving his knuckles white. You reach a hand over to lay atop his, and he starts to calm down finally.

Then you get an idea.

You loosen his hand from the steering wheel and place it under your skirt between your thighs. Once his fingers meet your saturated folds, his shoulders relax. 

“You defended my honor tonight and slayed a beast for me. Now, either get us home fast or pull this car over so I can thank you properly,” you beg, already clenching around his digits.

You’ve never seen Lloyd drive faster than that night. You only make it to the driveway of your place before he adjusts his seat and pulls you over to sit in his lap with your skirt pulled up around your waist.

As soon as he is inside you, you get to riding, and you don’t let up until you’ve got him whimpering underneath you. You beg him to fill you, and he barely makes it through your plea before he’s emptying his balls inside your welcoming heat.

You lay kisses all over his face as he comes down from his high. As his softening length slips from you, you open the driver’s side door and exit as his spunk leaks out of you. You adjust your skirt and thank the heavens that the carport hides you for the most part. Lloyd stuffs himself back in his pants and follows after you. Locking the car with the fob, he steps ahead of you to unlock the front door.

“Well, I’d say our night out was eventful,” he jokes, and you are happy to hear that he’s not as upset as earlier.

“That’s one way to put it,” you laugh, kicking off your shoes and walking toward the bedroom. “Now, why don’t you come put me to bed properly, Duke?”

“Don’t have to ask me twice, Duchess,” he purrs, catching up to you in three long strides. He leans in to kiss your lips, reaching down to hold you close before turning you around to nibble at your neck.

You love this man with all of your heart. For all of his flaws, he always gets this part right. He treats you like royalty. But what else would you expect? He works hard, and he loves hard. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

A/N: I would love to know what you think!!! Feedback is appreciated!

**Tag List**

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Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😁

[newkatzkafe2023]

WukongVerse Incorrect quotes #40 The Genderbend Special🥳🥳 D.O's Red spot

It all began when we were all teenagers, you had gone on a date with the destined one to a party. Unfortunately things got out of hand and now you got arrested.

the next morning🌄

(Fem MKR Wukong) Damn it D.O you had one job last night

(Fem NR Wukong) Yeah take M/n to the school dance, so we don't have too

(Fem HIB Wukong)(dumbfounded) And as for you, every time you go out with M/n, you get drunk and crash into a dairy queen. You've been acting crazy

(Fem Lmk Wukong)(agreeing) Crazy Yall!!🤠

(Fem BMW Wukong)(mildly Concerned) D.O What were you thinking???

(Fem Destined one)(stressed) I don't know, ok, I feel insane like... sometimes I can't stop crying😭 and most times, I feel like i can kill someone👿

(Fem Netflix Wukong) I see, I totally understand, SHE'S A WEREWOLF!!!!😨

(Fem Lmk Wukong) SHE'S A WEREWOLF YALL HOWLING AT THE MOON WOOOO🥳!!!

(M/N)(annoyed) My girlfriend's a werewolf Lmk read the room😟

(Fem Destined one)(Shreeking) I'm not a werewolf...AHHHHHHHHHHH🤯🤯

(Fem NR Wukong) SHE'S TURNING SOMEBODY GET ME A SLIVER STAKE AND A TARP😰!!!

(Fem Destined one)(Crying/Sobbing) EVERYTHING HURTS...MY STOMACH, MY BACK, MY BOOBS, MY FEELINGS😭😭 (Sobs) NOBODY LOOK AT ME IM A MONSTER 😭😭😭😭

Then when the destined one turned around, and the rest of us could see a large red spot on her skirt, making us freak out

(M/n)(Terrified) BLOOD!!!!!!😨

(Fem Lmk Wukong) SHE'S KILLED BEFORE AND SHE'LL KILL AGAIN!😱

You were all freaking out together when...

(Fem BMW Wukong)(Excited) EVERYONE SHUT THE F*CK UP! She may not be a werewolf, but she's definitely a woman, MY LITTLE SISTER JUST GOT HER FIRST PERIOD!!!!🤩🤩🤩

(Fem MKR Wukong)(smiling) In front of all of us😇😈

Now the monkey queen was celebrating 🍾 and you were just glad that D.o's ok😮‍💨🤗

(Fem Destined one)(mortified) I have never been so embarrassed in my entire life😮‍💨😣

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG

[ji-bit]

Everybody’s talking about Minho and Chans big noses but what about Hyunjin?? Man’s got some serious nose going on too. It’s not huge but it’s still heavily prominent from the side. And we all know what Doja Cat said 👀 Also nobody can convince me that Hyun wouldn’t be a part of the booty licking fun club. Man’s Mars is in Aries which is not only dominant at but it’s also huge on mouth and head 😈😈😈😈

stop because i get what you mean omg.. like chan and minho, hyunjin would encourage you to use his face to get off, his nose perfectly rubbing against your clit as you lean forward against the headboard, moaning and convulsing on his tongue. hyunjin loves when you use him for pleasure so you’ll often hear a ‘sit on my face baby’ randomly. he’d also be the type to have you on your front, pillow under your stomach as he eats both your ass and pussy. his hands are firm on your sides so that you can’t squirm but you still attempt to move away, worried about cumming too soon when he’s told you to hold it. that’s when he brings his hand down to smack an ass cheek. telling you to stay still if you want to be rewarded like a good slut. and when you cum without warning him? he’s eating you out all over again, ignoring the way you whine for his cock that’s hard and leaking against the bedsheets. you’ll learn one day.