#HES SUCH A SAD SMALL WET DOG

[vnknowcrow]

Being a #1 hater to miscommunication stories and also a abbott elementary fan is like being stabbed twenty times every episode

[vullcanica]

Dan's literal best friend in the world is a cocker spaniel named Bentley. Yes, after the car. He's about 8 years old, goes from 0 to 45 in seconds, never stops in the face of an obstacle be it wall or human leg especially when food's involved, and is magnetically drawn to mud puddles. Prissy to a disconcerting degree but there's love in his heart. Will chase anything with great enthusiasm. Generally more unphased by preternatural bullshit than most pets. His human has the most weird, off-putting energy known to man, so this is unsurprising.

[this-should-do]

god i NEED to know if valve k ew what they were doing when they desifned hla alyx gordon, like how purposeful was it that he be the cutests saddsst looking mfer out there? surely it had to be purposeful specially given how hes looked in the past, did they read the changing tides on the public peeception of gordon ? and change him to match? was it an internal descion and made without regard and/or knowlesge of a lot of people perceiving gordon as a teagic sad pethic wet cat of a man? god i need an interview or sumthing fuck man

[dmitriene]

continuation to this small work, cw: two freaks in love.

könig finds out you're kind of shy, a meek, pretty thing, sure, you send him such a revealing, unabashed polaroid pictures, but now, with him appearing out of nowhere at your door, giant and rugged, your fingers fiddle nervously at your own clothes, tugging down and trembling at your sides, wide eyes looking at the letter he holds in his gloved hand, from colonel, to you, name written by the way you already memorized, making you understand that it's really him.

the man you sent your nudes to, who would've know that he'd get so obsessed to try and find you like possessed dog, but you welcome him nonetheless, shuffling aside to let him in, bend his head down with a curl to his back so he would get past the doorway to your living room, dirty boots leaving a crumbs of dirt, his gear coated in things you don't want to know about, but his bright, unmovingly focused eyes look at you with a crinkle of delight, pupils could've dilate by now.

sure, könig is a little bit sad you didn't welcome him naked, or undressing at the very first sight of him, but he can work from what he got, from your shy touches when he wraps a hand around yours, for a handshake, that's it, but his by now ungloved, sandpapered fingers rub and circle around your wrist, curious, almost shuddering at the feel of your much smoother, gentle skin against his, and just this is enough to turn him on, cock swelling hard in his cargos.

he wonders if you'll let him bend you over the couch and eat your pussy from the back, or just stretch your pretty hole around his swollen cock, but you ask him questions, how he found you, why, does he wants something to eat, but könig already plans a small wedding for you two so he could make you his forever, an adorable housewife that will take care of her hard working husband with sending him pictures of her holes he could pump full after coming home.

könig tells you everything, how much times you made him cum, that he fantasized about you in any possible situation and position, dreamed of entering his quarters, and instead of a empty, boring room see you curled at his bed, his thumb tracing along your knee all the while he babbles your ears off with all disgusting, horny talks, but it's amuses you, to the point your thighs start to clench together, pressing harsh, as you lean in, watching his eyes nearly eclipse from the very little contact.

you put the letter he brought aside on the table, instead, asking your questions, and then answering his, which only contain of awkward, boyish laugh and stuttering words of if he looks the way you imagined, and könig is, a little bit awkward, in the same time cocky enough to touch you, nearly groping, looking enchanted on the outline of your breasts from beneath your sleeping shirt, before rubbing an sweaty hand against the back of his hooded head, such a silly man.

nearly jumps out of his pants when you offer him to take a bath at your place, voice mellowy and inviting, and könig trots behind you with a wagging tail when you lead the way, filling the bath full of warm water and couple drops of shower gel, making some bubbles that not really suit him, but would make the room smell nice and block out all that reeks out from him when he starts to undress, preening under your touch when you help to unclasp couple of things off his gear, könig holding down from to not shove your hand down his crotch.

it's when you join him that he gets insistent, all your shy act dropping down, your nails raking down the expanse of his toned, tissued back with tiny, reddening streaks, as könig corners you against the bathtub ceramic, moaning raggedly and humping your pussy persistently, messy, hips grinding and twitching, and the way he acts so eager and silly makes you really aroused, mewling right against his wet ear as he sloppily makes out with your neck, his hair and stubble rubbing all over your sensitive, bruised skin, sharp teeth's closing around the warmed flesh.

seems like now, you have a strange kind of boyfriend, a military colonel, a right pervert, and a pussy drunk pup that pumps your soppy, gummy cunt full of his thick, creamy release, one he kept in his balls especially for your meeting, his vision nearly blackening from how long his cock throbbed and spurted, squeezed tight by your pulsing, milking walls, enjoying your palms stroking his face, cooing at him hushed and lulling, everything könig dreamt of.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[lovebugism]

✶ ┄ LOVE AND MERCY !

summary: you're more stubborn than the apocalypse. eric is the personification of a sad, wet dog. your world's collide when the world as you know it ends. (6.3k)

pairing: eric (a quiet place day one) / f!reader

contents: strangers to friends to lovers, a couple of losers in love, apocalyptic setting, angst, hurt/comfort cw for mentions of grief and anxiety, brief mentions of injuries, and smut 18+

You wake up that morning in a bed that is not yours, in a room that does not belong to you, in an abandoned cabin you turned into a safe house three weeks ago.

Everything around you is foreign. Including the world outside these rotted walls, which turned entirely on its head in a blink. A blink that somehow turned into three months gone.

The only thing familiar to you now is the stranger lying in the bed beside you — on the right side that he has wordlessly claimed as his own. Before Eric was a guy you shared beds with, he was a guy you found in the rain. A boy with big, wet, puppy dog eyes who followed you like a stray after the world fell.

That was all he was to you for a month straight. A burden. Deadweight. An ever-anxious being that had nearly gotten you killed more times than you could count. You never saw him any differently until you almost died — a certain death involving you, an old beartrap, several aliens with uber-sensitive hearing, and a stupid boy who was too dumb to leave you behind. 

“I can’t leave you,” Eric blubbered through tears, whimpering in faint whispers so the blind monsters wouldn’t hear. “I won’t.”

“Then you won’t make it at all, you idiot,” you spat through gritted teeth, eyes wide and stern and glittering. You wouldn’t let yourself cry, not even with your leg all but torn to shreds, but Eric’s sudden stubbornness scared you. Why now? Of all times? you thought to yourself, Why does he have to be so stubborn now?

“I wouldn’t want to,” Eric promised, bloodied hands trembling where they gripped your arms. “I wouldn’t want to make it without you.”

That was a month or so ago, but you carry the horrors of that day still. 

In the vivid nightmares that rattle your bones. In the marred skin of your ankle, hidden beneath bandages, slowly healing with each passing day. And in the strange boy with puppy dog eyes who still hasn’t left your side.

Let me check your leg, Eric scribbles on a notepad. 

His handwriting is slanted and small and hardly legible — fitting for a man whose mind is always racing faster than he can keep up. 

The marker is fading slowly, too, dying from excessive use because the majority of your conversations are spoken through written words on a page. You’ve gone through a notebook or three already.

You snatch the notepad from his grip to write a response of your own. Eric peels the tattered blanket from your body to survey the gauze around your ankle. He peeks beneath the bandage, and his chest pinches at the sight — not because of his sensitive stomach, but because of the harsh reminder of the day he almost lost you.

The paper swishes faintly when you turn the notebook back to him. Okay, Dr. Eric :P, you’ve written in sloppy cursive. The boy grins at the mischievous look in your eyes.

“That’s Doctor Eric Esquire to you,” he corrects in a whisper that makes his accent sound more posh than usual. He smooths the gauze back into place with a gentle hand and says, “You’re healing fine, I think. I’ll have to go out and scavenge for more bandages soon, but these should last for another…”

The sounds of your rapid scribbling fill the quiet cabin. Eric trails off in wait, wide eyes darting from the marker in your hand to the pinched look of concentration on your face. 

He sees a strange sort of giddiness sparking in your otherwise serious features that makes him fearful. Intrigued, yes, but still distantly fearful. All your ideas tend to get him into trouble.

The notebook turns to him again. His stomach does a backflip.

Wanna go on an adventure?

“This is… Not what I was expecting,” Eric muses beneath the sounds of a rushing waterfall. 

His words echo slightly in the expanse of the dank cave. It’s the first time you’ve heard his voice in full volume, deep and accented and smooth. His pretty whispering annoyed you to no end back when he was just a stranger with exactly zero survival instincts. Now, you never want him to stop talking.

“Well, that’s why it’s an adventure,” you lilt, wiping water from your brow with the neck of your t-shirt. 

Your clothes stick to you in places where the waterfall had splashed you on your way underneath it. The still air of the cave, strangely cool compared to the humid air outside of it, makes you fight back a shiver.

Eric eyes you from a distance, features swirled in a quiet concern. It’s impossible to relish in this little ounce of peace when you have the kind of mind he does — the kind of mind that’s always anxious and always filled with thoughts of you. 

He cares so much for you, far more than he planned to, that it’s made him chronically fearful. He’s grown to realize, since he met you, that the two words are rather synonymous. You can’t have love without fear — and what is there to be fearful for, if not for the ones you love?

“Your bandages really shouldn’t be getting wet, you know?”

You scoff and limp further into the damp hollow. The quiet sound of your steps reverberates within the stone walls, along with the subtle scuffing of your bad foot. “You said I was healing okay, remember?” you huff and drop the basket in your elbow onto the cobblestone.

“I said you were healing fine,” Eric chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest. “There’s a difference.”

“Not really,” you shrug with a scrunched nose, flashing him a fleeting glance over your shoulder. You turn away again and wince at the distant ache in your ankle when you crouch. 

Sometimes the scars hurt like they’re still fresh, still weeping scarlet and throbbing like a new wound. Eric’s not a doctor, but he tells you that it’ll probably be that way forever. “Phantom pains, I think they call it,” he says in a posh accent that makes him sound more official than he really is. You’re inclined to believe him, anyway.

The boy watches as you sort through the wicker basket you stole — or borrowed, as you claim, “’cause it’s not like the owner’s coming back for it anytime soon.” It’s full of stuff you wouldn’t let him see, like it was some kind of big secret. 

He grimaces when you squat, putting unnecessary weight on a barely healing leg. He knows it hurts, even when you pretend it doesn’t — especially when you pretend it doesn’t. His chest pinches like the ache is his own. Like sympathy pains or something. He worries so much for you that you’ve given him fucking sympathy pains.

“We shouldn’t have left,” Eric agonizes, wiping a pair of anxious hands down his face. He swipes his fingers through his hair and finds the chestnut curls now partially damp. “I shouldn’t have let you leave. I mean, what if we have to run, huh? What if we have to—”

“We won’t,” you groan as you stand to full height again. You hold an old quilt in one arm and gesture wildly with the other. “That’s what the waterfall is for. They can’t hear us under here. Nothing’s coming.”

He knows you’re right, but it doesn’t worry him any less.

“How’d you even know this was out here?”

You falter for a moment. A mere blink of a second. But Eric catches it immediately because there isn’t anything about you he doesn’t instantly notice. He’s rarely ever seen you, his silver-tongued girl, so ambivalent. And something about it frightens him.

“I was… on a walk one day… while you were out scavenging—” you answer slowly, shrugging like it isn’t a big deal at all, though you immediately follow it with, “—Don’t get angry.”

Eric’s pink mouth falls softly agape, opening and closing like a fish’s might, while he tries to find the words to say. To shout. To scream. 

“Y-You... You— You left without me?” he stammers, voice booming. 

The words ring across the expanse of the shallow cave, bouncing off the damp stone walls. It’s the loudest he’s heard himself talk since the world ended, and the notion startles him. Like a dog just learning how to bark.

Eric’s breath hitches in his throat as his dark eyes widen in fear. He waits instinctively for the screeching of far-off monsters and their booming footsteps — prepares for an adrenaline rush that’ll give his weak arms the strength to carry both of you to safety.

It never comes. 

The sounds of the waterfall shield you from the war raging outside of it. 

When the panic passes, the anger resumes.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?” Eric agonizes, quieter now, though the corner of his lip twitches with withheld anger. 

You keep your back to the boy and lay out the contents of the wicker basket. A floral quilt to cushion the stone flooring, two bottles of wine to share between you, several bags of stale chips, and one MP3 player that’s somehow stronger than the end of the world. You pay Eric no mind as he continues to rant behind you.

“What if you’d gotten killed? What if— What if you got lost and I couldn’t find you—?!”

“Don’t shout!” you gripe despite your own booming voice. 

“Why not?” Eric questions with a cynical laugh. “I thought nothing could hear us under here?”

You spin back around to face him, grimacing slightly when your healing wounds start to burn. You tilt your chin in a look of defiance, though your eyes sparkle faintly in the dim natural light — something mischievous and strangely shy. 

“I don’t want you to shout because I put a lot of effort into this,” you answer in a steady voice, lips quirking in a distant smile. “And we can’t enjoy it if you’re gonna be grumpy the entire time.”

Eric blinks at you for several long moments, brown eyes wide like an owl. Only then does he notice what you’d set up for him in the brief minutes he’d been blinded by his anger. A picnic of sorts — fashioned with a moth-eaten quilt, dusty wine bottles, and snacks you’d scavenged and seemingly stashed like a squirrel. It’s about as fancy as you can get in an apocalypse.

His mouth opens and closes again, this time in a quiet sort of shock. “Wh… What?”

“Well, you kinda spent your entire birthday taking care of me, so… I figured we were past due for a celebration.”

Eric’s brows pinch together. A furrow of deep thought settles between them. 

He realizes he hadn’t thought twice about his birthday till now. Hadn’t thought twice about turning another year older, just like he hadn’t thought twice about needing to be repaid for taking care of you. He did both things without thinking. He can’t control his urge to dote on you like he can’t control the existential dread of getting older.

“How’d you know it was my birthday?”

“‘Cause you told me once,” you shrug. “And I keep track of the days in my calendar, so—”

“So, you’re saying that… That you did all this...” the man laughs, gesturing to the cave and the waterfall and the wine. “For me?”

A similar-sounding laugh sputters from your own mouth ‘cause you do it all for him. From going on stupid picnics to fighting monsters from another planet. Everything you’ve done up until this point, you realize now, you’ve done for Eric. You keep on living despite the unfavorable odds for Eric.

“Of course I did. It’s not that big of a deal,” you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest to shield your bleeding heart. “I mean, you kinda saved my life. The least I can do is take you on a stupid fucking picnic.”

When you turn around again to ease yourself onto the blanket, Eric tries to make out the words to thank you. Not just for what you’ve done here, but for what you’ve done all the days since he found you. Because you’ve saved his life too, more times than he could count, actually — ‘cause that’s just what you do. You save each other and don’t think twice about it because that’s what you do when you care for someone.

He forgot all about birthdays and picnics and what it meant to be alive before he found you. And now that you’re here, you spend every single day reminding him of everything the end of the world begs him to forget.

“I’m— I’m sorry… I’m sorry for shouting at you,” Eric stammers in a sheepish murmur, scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck.

“I know,” you nod, smiling as you pat the spare spot beside you. “Now stop being weird and come sit down.”

The wine is warm, the chips are stale, and the quilt just barely cushions the hard ground beneath you — but everything’s still somehow perfect. Your MP3 player is almost as old as you are and cracked down the middle, but the music plays just perfectly from its headphones, anyway. 

Maybe it’s perfect ‘cause it’s not perfect. 

Or maybe it’s perfect because you’re here.

You sit side-by-side on the handmade blanket, legs crossed and knees brushing, as you share an earbud between you. Conversation ebbs and flows between snacking. Music fills the silence.

I was sittin’ in a crummy movie with my hands on my chin,

All the violence that occurs, seems like we never win...

Eric tips his head back to down the rest of the cheesy crumbs in the package he holds in a pale fist. His scruffy cheeks jut like a chipmunk as he chews through the mouthful. “I missed this, you know?” he mumbles.

You set the wine bottle beside you after taking a lengthy sip, licking the bitter-sweet grape from your lips. “What?” you wonder aloud. “The wine? The Cheetos? The music?”

The boy goes quiet as he ponders the question. He figures he was talking about you, mostly — this sort of connection between humans, this sort of comfort, this sort of normalcy. The music answers your question in his silence.

—Love and mercy, that’s what you need tonight…

So love and mercy, to you and your friends tonight…

He nods anyway. “All of the above, actually…”

“You know what I miss?” you wonder beneath the rustling of the Scooby Snacks you dig your hand into. You chuck a cartoon bone into your mouth and find the graham-cracker components have gone soft with time. “I miss driving down backroads… going way faster than what’s probably allowed… with the windows down and the radio all the way up…”

Eric watches the far-off look in your eyes as you stare, unblinking, at the waterfall ahead of you. Clear water rushes from the mountain and falls hard onto the cobbles and the still water below. Rogue drops splatter inside the shallow cave, occasionally splashing you with fat droplets.

The running waterfall cast fleeting shadows over your face, littered now with faint scars. Your features are much softer than he’s used to in the natural light.

“I miss college parties,” he confesses, wiping his palms on his knees.

You wash the dry graham cracker out with another sip of wine and try not to laugh as you swallow it down.

“Why’s that funny?” Eric wonders through his own chuckle, only partially offended.

“I don’t know… I guess I just didn’t take you for a partier.”

“I wasn’t really…” he concedes with a shy shrug, gaze averted and cheeks pink. “But I was a really big fan of karaoke.”

“Well, that makes a lot more sense.”

“Doesn’t it?” Eric humors with a scrunched nose.

You tilt your head back to laugh — a pretty, airy sound that echoes within the cobbled walls, only partially drowned out beneath the rushing waterfall. You shift closer toward him when you’re upright again, probably without realizing, but Eric notices. He can’t help but notice everything you do. And he can’t help but lean instinctively closer to you, too.

He can smell the natural scent of you beneath the various surrounding ones — of freshwater, pine, and whatever cologne was spritzed on your shirt before you found it. He can smell the sweet wine on your breath, too, and he quickly realizes that you’re close enough to kiss. If only he weren’t so chicken shit.

The proximity makes his cheeks flush, though you’re not nearly as fazed by it.

“I forgot what that felt like…” you muse in a quiet voice of disbelief.

Eric smiles so hard his eyes squint. “What?”

“I don’t know… just, like, happiness? I guess?” you laugh. “I used to think that was impossible before now.”

“Yeah… Me too.” 

The conversation lulls for a moment. The music playing in your ears takes over: 

—I was standing at a bar and watching all the people there…

All the loneliness in this world, well, it’s just not fair…

You cage your smile between your teeth in a feeble attempt to conceal how wide it’s grown. Your eyes are wide and sparkling, likely from the wine, as they flit between both of his darker ones. Eric exhales a breathy chuckle in response, all giddy and nervous for a reason he can’t name (probably from the wine, too, if he had to guess).

He feels himself leaning in to kiss you before he realizes it. He only catches himself when you pull unknowingly away, reaching again for the glass bottle at your side. His heart drops to his swirling stomach as his cheeks flare a deep pink.

“I’m glad you followed me like a creep for a week straight, you know that?” you confess with a teasing squint in your eyes as you bring the lip of the bottle to your mouth.

Eric scoffs at the memory, which feels like yesterday and ancient history all at once.

He was by himself when the world first fell — a stranger in a strange country, and the loneliest he’d ever been in his life. And, perhaps, the most scared, too. 

Then, all of a sudden, he sees this girl rush out of an alleyway and into a monster-infested street to save a dog from an otherwise unavoidable death. Eric watched from a distance as you returned the scared pup to its owners — a very young couple cowering behind a car, not that much older than you. 

You pointed them in the direction of a military base setting up camps for civilians then went the opposite way. Away from guaranteed protection. Like the safest hands were your own. 

Eric made the quick decision to follow you as you went. He figured if you were brave enough to save some dog that wasn’t yours, and stare death directly in the face while you did it, then you could do just about anything.

He didn’t know, then, that he was making the best decision he’d ever made in his life.

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t pummel me in the face for following you like a creep.”

“I should’ve,” you quip. “But I liked your company too much, I guess…”

“Liked?” the boy parrots, laughing loudly at the turn of phrase. “Is this your way of saying you’re finally tired of me?”

You roll your eyes and hide your smirk behind the neck of the wine bottle. “Do you think I would’ve done all this shit if I wasn’t the least bit fond of you, Eric?”

The question is rhetorical, but you expect a lighthearted quip from the British boy anyway. Your words seem to settle something heavy on him, though. It’s the very first time you’ve admitted out loud, without a shred of sarcasm, how much you really care for him. 

Eric forgets to say anything at all. The cave fills with a loud silence. The steady drumming of the waterfall and the whisper of rustling trees. Strangely peaceful for the end of the world. 

“Wanna know something wild?” he asks you after a few long moments. His accent makes the words sound heavy on his tongue. Your brows raise to egg him on, and he continues, stumbling over himself in the process. “I’m… I’m not happy the world ended, but… I am— I am glad that it brought me you.”

Your breath catches. It’s the most profound thing anyone’s ever said to you, you think. Way deeper than any measly ‘I love you.’ And how are you meant to respond to that? To his confession that the end of the world was worth finding you? There’s no string of words in the English language that could possibly compare to that.

Eric waits for your response with bated breath. He hopes for an affirmation of your similar affection, of course, but a rejection would be better than nothing at all. He blinks at you with hopeful chocolate eyes, then flinches away when you laugh.

“You’re such a sap,” you say, giggling, as you reach suddenly for his face.

You cradle his scruffy jaw between warm and gently calloused hands, pulling him into you with an admirable effortlessness. You kiss him like it’s natural to you — like he was never just a stranger — like you’ve spent entire lifetimes kissing him.

You take the breath from his lungs with little effort. Eric tips his head back and sighs when you swipe your tongue along his chapped bottom lip. The exhaled breath fans across your cupid’s bow, and you smile against his mouth as you clamor gracelessly into his lap — straddling his lean hips and pressing your beating heart to his. 

The earbuds fall carelessly to the ground, and the fading song plays muffedly from beside you:

—Love and mercy, that’s what you need tonight…

So love and mercy, to you and your friends tonight…

Your mouths click when they part, a subtle sound beneath the drumming waterfall behind you. Your eyes are heavy and lidding as they fall to Eric’s kissed mouth — now a rosier shade, gently swollen, and shining with your spit. A stamp of ownership, almost, that makes your chest swell with pride.

Eric looks up at you with big, wet eyes as his hands fidget on either side of your waist. “I’ve been waiting for that for ages,” he confesses in a low murmur.

A small smile quirks faintly at the edges of your mouth. “Could you maybe say something that’s not super cliché?” you tease.

“How about… I really, really want to kiss you again?” Eric offers in a honeyed tone that makes his accent heavier. He swallows hard, adam’s apple bobbing. “And that I… I wanna make you feel good?”

You cage your bottom lip between your teeth to hide your smile. Your fingertips are calloused and cold as they toy with the curls at the nape of his neck — tiny chestnut strands coiled in perfect ringlets. Eric fights back a shiver.

“Then I’d say that…” you begin with a mischievous lilt to your voice, wild eyes flitting from his pink lips to his watery eyes. “I’ve been waiting for that for ages.”

You part from him then, taking the warmth of your body with you as you sit on your knees across from him. The rugged ground is hardly cushioned by the thin quilt. You can vaguely feel small rocks digging into your skin, but your need for him is much louder. 

You cross your arms in front of yourself to swipe your t-shirt over your head. You toss the discarded fabric carelessly beside you, then work at the buttons of your jeans — also borrowed, and just a half-size too big for you. 

Eric watches with his heart in his throat. It’s the most naked you’ve ever been in front of him before. The sight of your bare skin, covered now only in the sports bra you’ve had since the world ended, makes his head swim. It takes him a moment too long to realize he should be undressing, too, and he rushes to catch up.

The two of you undress yourselves in relative silence. The sight is hardly as sexy as you’d expect — full of fumbling limbs far too eager to be graceful. Eric’s shirt gets stuck on his chin. Your jeans get caught at your ankle. The tense lull between you ebbs into a symphony of entwining giggles.

With your clothes scattered in abandoned piles, you lay back against the blanket. Eric settles on top of you with a strange sort of effortlessness — like it’s muscle memory to him, even though neither of you has done this for a long, long while — much less with each other. 

The weight of his body is warm and heavy over yours. You slide your hands under his arms and curl them over his freckled shoulders, digging your nails softly into his pale skin to pull him further into you. 

You watch with heavily lidded eyes as Eric brings his hand to his mouth. He slides his pointer and middle finger between his lips, wetting the pads of them with his tongue. You exhale a deep breath when the limbs come out again, glittering in the low light. 

He studies your features with a dark and unwavering stare as he slips his fingers between the lips of your pussy — tracing the velvety lips for a moment before easing them slowly inside. Your eyes flutter shut at the foreign feeling. Eric smiles to himself, wrist flexing, as he explores your silky cunt with his fingers. 

“Please fuck me,” you sigh when his palm bumps your swollen clit. Your head tips back as your hips buck upward, all but melting under his touch. “Please.”

It takes Eric a moment or more to formulate a response. You’ve never been so subservient like this before, so needy for him. This must be the eighth wonder of the world, he thinks to himself, as he continues to work you open with unworthy hands.

“Have to get you ready for me first,” he tells you, voice and low gritty, as he exhales a breathy chuckle that fans across your jaw. “Don’t wanna break you, honey.”

You manage a scoff in response. “Well, that’s very presumptuous of you— oh…”

Eric crooks his fingers until the tips of them brush a spongy depth inside you. Your mouth falls agape at the feeling, so foreignly full beneath him. His spit-slick lips curl into a lazy smirk. “That shut you up, didn’t it?”

You would’ve spit a snide remark back at him if his thumb hadn’t pressed so mercilessly to your delicate clit then. The words dissolve like dust on your tongue and escape only as a breathy moan. 

Eric continues his relentless pursuit with nothing but two of his fingers. Relentless, you think,because he’s hardly trying to make you cum now. You’re not sure if he’s just oblivious to how good he’s making you feel, or if he’s pushing you to the edge and jerking you back on purpose. It’s agony either way.

He only stops when his pointer and middle finger start to prune, the pads of them softly wrinkled from your honey. He wipes them off on the quilt like a total barbarian. You would’ve said something about that, too, if you weren’t still trying to catch your breath.

Eric rises to his knees. His bare chest, dusted with sparse hair over the sternum, rises and falls with uneven pants. His cock hangs heavy between his spread thighs — half-hard, glowing red, and leaking faintly at the tip. His wide hands are softer than your own as they smooth up and down the length of your thighs. His thumbs rub soothingly over the supple insides of them — with a touch almost as gentle as the melted chocolate gaze he looks at you with. 

“Are you alright?” he wonders, all quiet and suddenly shy, like you aren’t all but dripping for him now.

“You’re so annoying,” you gripe with a scoffed-out laugh, rolling your eyes because you’re certain he’s teasing you. Your stomach sinks when the genuine glimmer in his eyes doesn’t waver. You squirm beneath him and his unyielding gaze. “I’m okay, Eric,” you murmur sheepishly, never easily serious.

He nods to himself and swallows hard, still visibly unsure. It makes you wonder if he’s second-guessing. “Stop staring and kiss me, you asshole,” you grouse with a forced laugh, tightening your grip on his shoulders.

Eric’s mouth quirks in an absentminded smile. “Just let me look at you for a second…” he whispers, squeezing the outsides of your thighs with warm hands.

“We don’t have to whisper anymore, dummy,” you tease in a hushed tone of your own.

His grin widens until his eyes wrinkle at the edges and his tongue pokes softly through his teeth. He laughs despite himself and grips his heavy cock in his fist. “You’re so mean, you know that?” he asks, folding your knee back with his free hand. You’re not sure if he’s expecting a real response, but he slips into you before you can give him one.

He fucks into you slow — bitterly, painfully, and agonizingly slow — forcing you to feel every inch of him. His cock is of average length, but girthy enough to stretch you open. You’re suddenly grateful he thought to use his fingers on you despite your impatience, but the two of them alone hardly equate to how thick he is.

Both of you inhale sharply when he’s fully sheathed inside of you, neither exactly used to the feeling. Eric allows you a moment or more to adjust before sliding out again. You exhale softly together in entwining moans that get lost beneath the sounds of a raging waterfall.

Eric thrusts into you again with gritted teeth, trying not to whimper too loudly when your pussy clenches around him. He bends at the waist to hide his face in your neck and exhales all his pathetic moans there. 

He keeps one hand clenched into a fist on the blanket to prop up his weight; his other slides beneath your head to cushion your skull from the hard ground. You grip the boy by his flexing biceps, digging your nails into the skin every time he thrusts into you. Jaw clenched, nose scrunched, eyes squinted — you take his cock without complaint despite the very loud feeling that it’s all too much for you.

Eric is everywhere, and the notion alone overwhelms you. He’s in you, on top of you, all over you. Like the air you breathe. You need him just the same. Not because he’s your friend but because you’re scared you might seriously die without him. 

It’s dramatic at best. At worst, it’s the exact opposite feeling you should have for anyone in the apocalypse, where death is essentially promised for both of you.

Tears prick your eyes at the thought, though you’d rather blame them on Eric’s merciless thrusts. They’re sloppy and unmeasured as he struggles to find a rhythm. He’s similarly overwhelmed by the pleasure. You can tell by the way his body trembles over yours, and the way he buries loud moans into your pulsepoint. You can feel the vibrations of each moan in your veins. 

The way you’re pinned beneath him cages your clit between your bodies. Every time Eric’s lean hips thrust upward and back again, the coarse thatch of hair above his cock brushes your sensitive button. You couldn’t free yourself from it if you tried. You’re not sure if you even want to.

“This is good for you, right?” Eric wonders through heavy pants, voice wavering under the weight of his pleasure. “Please tell me this is good for you.”

Any other time, you would’ve laughed at him, but now you only nod. Rapidly and with your jaw clenched tight. Just as pathetic as he is. 

“’S good,” you promise through gritted teeth as the coil in the pit of your stomach starts to tighten. “It’s so good, Eric. Feels so fuckin’ good.”

The affirmation makes him moan. Loudly. Enough for you to be momentarily grateful for the cover of the rumbling waterfall. Eric buckles down over you and strengthens his rapid, irregularly timed thrusts with a feeble cry. 

Your own whine rumbles in your throat, falling from your mouth like honey. Your warm skin, now slick with a layer of sweat, begins to buzz. The need for release builds like a dam within you — somewhere deep, right where the tip of Eric’s cock fucks into you. 

Your thighs start to tremble on either side of his waist. Your hips begin to buck despite yourself. You can’t be sure if you’re running from the pleasure now, or chasing it entirely.

“You gotta cum, baby,” Eric tells you through a pitiful whine, face still tucked into your neck. He licks his lips and starts to babble: “I can’t— I’m too close— I need you to cum before I do, baby— Need you to cum right now— Fuck.”

“Is your idea of dirty talk always this pathetic?” you would’ve joked if you weren’t already cumming for him. 

Your mouth falls agape in a silent moan as your head tips back into his palm. Your back arches as you reach the height of your pleasure, pussy fluttering through every wave of it. 

Eric fucks you the entire way through your orgasm — despite your nails biting crescent shapes into his shoulders, despite your velvety cunt tightening around him, despite the very overwhelming feeling that he might burst entirely.

Only when your body goes lax does he pull out of you. 

The empty feeling makes you whimper. Your weeping pussy clenches around nothing while Eric jerks himself off. You can’t see him, but you can feel his wrist moving in rapid motions between your legs. 

A groan rumbles deep in his throat as he tenses on top of you. His still body goes rigid. Something warm and wet spits on your inner thigh a second later — a heavy load of his pearly white cum, which he gives you three of before he’s milked himself dry.

Eric collapses on top of you when he’s officially spent. He forgets to hold up his weight, and you deliberately decide not to remind him. You let the man soak in the waves of his pleasure while you strain to reach the wicker basket at your side — struggling for a moment to find the handful of napkins at the very bottom, then using them to wipe up the mess on your thigh.

“Ah, shit,” Eric curses when he notices (his mess or his weight, you can’t quite tell). He sniffles and rolls off of you. “Sorry…”

Your head whips in his direction. You find his face all flushed, glowing red along the apples of his cheeks and the very tip of his nose. His eyes are big and wet, too, glassy like he might cry. 

Buzzing with concern, you rise to your knees, watching intently as Eric reaches for your discarded pile of clothes. You set them aside when he passes them to you and hold his face in your hands instead. His stubble scratches at your delicate palms. Your wide eyes sparkle with concern as they dart over his teary features.

“Hey… Hey, what happened?” you agonize. “Are you okay?”

Eric laughs at himself, then sniffles again as he wipes his nose with the back of his hand. “Yeah… So much for not being cliché, right?” he jokes.

“What happened?” you repeat, giggling this time at his crooked smile.

“Nothing,” he assures, shrugging his freckled shoulders. “I just… I’m just really happy, I guess…”

Your tight chest deflates with a sigh of relief as you nod in response. “Yeah… I am, too.”

Eric’s grin widens at your confession. His cheeks speckle a rosy color, like he’s pleasantly surprised by the response — as if his softening cock isn’t still sparkling with a mixture of your cum. 

You meet his smile with a scowl, rolling your eyes as you shove playfully at his shoulder. “Don’t look at me like that,” you grumble and turn away from him, reaching for your clothes. 

Your body looms over him as you stand, putting very little weight on your scarred leg. You bend at the waist to tug your underwear up your thighs.

Eric shoves his boxers on with a cheeky grin. “I’m really glad I found you, you know that, right? Even though you’re mean to me all the time?”

You scoff and drag your sports bra over your torso, yanking it at the hem to pull it over your breasts. “I’m happy you found me, too, stalker,” you respond in a monotone that would otherwise suggest the opposite. But Eric catches you smiling when you reach beside him for your shirt and knows you really mean it. 

“You love me,” he insists playfully, right before stealing a kiss from you. 

His lips only manage to brush the corner of your mouth in his haste, but he grins wide about it anyway. Your face screws like you weren’t begging him to fuck you ten minutes ago, as you wipe your cheek with the back of your hand.

“You’re disgusting…” he hears you mumbling as you turn away, tugging your shirt over your head. 

But he knows what you really mean.

[gremlingottoosilly]

Crybaby!Reader X Mafia!König

oh the poor woman..

Somebody free my girl!! Konig is an old, corrupted mafia dog who just loves to see you squirm. He never thought of himself as particularly sadistic towards women - he can be cruel towards men and traitors, but he was usually well-behaved around the ladies...well, you can say that you corrupted a gentleman his momma raised. The first time you cried in front of him, tugging on his sleeve as he was disposing of some dumb fuck who walked on you kissing at the VIP room of the club, you were dragged by accident - he knew he had to keep you. He was mesmerized by your tears; he loved your body trembling, and it got even better when he pushed his hand into your panties and felt the wetness of involuntary arousal collecting in the soaked fabric. God, you're beautiful - and you just signed your death sentence. He drags you with him everywhere, even though usually he likes to keep his pretty girls safe and sound in the various properties he owns - but he loves your reactions too much to keep you caged. It's a small mercy - you are not technically locked in one room, but you also have to witness him killing the enemies of the family like it's nothing - and then he would squeeze your soft, tear-stained cheeks and ask why you cry so much. He thought you were already used to things like this - he thought you knew better than to show your tears to someone who would lick them all away and say that they tasted sweet. To be completely honest, he adores you. Your trembling body, your soft features, your everything - you beg him not to shoot a guy from another gang not because you really care about human life, but because the sound of guns going off makes you really, really sad. Poor little thing, he is buying your affection with stuff later - he is giving you nice gifts; for example, he wipes your face with an expensive handkerchief and smiles when you tremble even more under him.

[linos-luna]

Deep Sleep ❣️🔪

Yandere!Taehyung x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, YANDERE, somnephilia, fingering, Soft sex, DUB CON

——————————————————————

He watched as your peacefully slept, your chest slowly rose with every breath. Taehyung ran his fingers across your lips and down your chest. You must be exhausted; you did not budge.

Oh how badly he wanted you to be his. It wasn’t so much that you rejected him; you actually rarely spoke to him and there wasn’t any particular reason for that, it’s just that he was too awkward to approach you.

But Taehyung has been stalking you for a while. He wants to learn everything about you before approaching you. He wants to impress you and get you to fall for him.

Sometimes he can’t help himself. He had copied your house key and often let himself in. Mostly just to watch, just like tonight.

He couldn’t help feeling a bit needy. He wanted to show you his love so very badly. He feels like he needs to.

Slowly, Taehyung lowered the sheets that covered you and again, you did not stir.

“My love…” he whispered. “Surely you wouldn’t mind… you are mine after all…”

The man gently removed your pants, moving his pointer and middle fingers in circles along your underwear, leaving behind a growing wet spot.

While you didn’t move, a small moan did escape your lips. Taehyung found it adorable and lowered himself to give a kiss over said wet spot. Once satisfied he lowered the undergarment and watched as the clear sticky substance parted between you and the material, leaving your cunt free and vulnerable just for him.

He ran his finger across your slit and rubbed circles on your clit. This made you gasp in your sleep and move slightly. These pleasurable menstruations made their way to your dreams, perhaps just another wet dream, that is, until he slipped in two fingers.

You moaned a bit louder, your legs closing shut.

“No no darling, let’s not do that.” Taehyung whispered. “Open them.”

In your drowsy and sleepy state, you obeyed; after all, it was a dream right?

Taehyung slowly moved his fingers in and out. Breathy moans escaped your lips.

Once he felt you were prepped enough, the man pulled his fingers out and removed his pants, teasing your hole with his cock, making you whimper.

“Darling, do you want my cock?” He whispered softly in your ear. “You want me to love you, right?”

“Mmhm…” you mumbled in your sleep.

“You want me, right?”

“Mmhm~” you moaned again still in your sleepy state.

Taehyung smiled and entered you, relishing in your tight walls hugging him.

You whined and whimpered at the feeling. He was big and you simply felt stuffed and overwhelmed.

Your eyelids fluttered and the man put his hand over them to block your vision.

“Shh…” he leaning in close. “Back to sleep, darling~”

His voice was smooth, low, and almost hypnotic. Even for the moments you did open your eyes, it was dark. A dream. Just a lovely wet dream.

You started to relax again, softly moaning as he slowly moved in and out. It just felt so good.

“More~”

“More?” He whispered with a smile while kissing at your neck and lifting your shirt to see your bare breasts.

“Fuck— more~” you muttered again , arching your back slightly. “So good~”

Taehyung was happy to please you. He thrusted faster but not rough enough to wake you. The quiet night was filled with the sounds of your breathy moans and skin slapping; he kept going until feeling your hips stutter and pulled out as you came.

Your eyes were still closed and half asleep. You whimpered, sounding like a sad dog, at the loss of his touch and touched yourself, tracing circles on your clit.

Taehyung thought it was so cute. Your desperate whines which turned to moans as you touched yourself for stimulation. Of course, he was happy to help, moving your hand and replacing it with his.

“You like that, baby?”

“Mm… mmhm…”

You were almost crying at the feeling. Again, he covered your eyes as they started to flutter open.

“Shhh~” he whispered. “Back to sleep darling… let me pleasure you…”

“Pleasure me…” you repeated with a moan. “Please~”

Taehyung was prepared to pleasure you for as long as you wanted. After all, you did say please…

[splataii]

thigh fucking with ayato to relieve his stress from work so he bends the reader in his desk while degrading him (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

ayato x reader

cw: domtop character, subbottom reader, degradation, minor feminization (use of the word cunt), minor voyeurism, minor sir kink, petnames

lmk if i miss anything!

<3

“sir.. please,” you squirm under ayato as his body keeps you bent over his desk, hand on the small of your back as he feels around for a small bottle in his desk.

“what? this where you want it?” he smiles as he traces a finger up your exposed hole watching as it winks back up at him, leaning back to spread the lube all over it, “in this slutty cunt a yours?”

“‘m not a slut..” you slur, biting back a moan as he laughs, your face too cute to ignore. i mean your body is practically jumping at his touch while your poor cunt tries to take his fingers in, desperate to be filled.

it had been another regular day in the office before you were called up for another one of your lil “private meetings”, the angst on his face clear as day the moment you stepped through those grand doors.

the man is in desperate need of an actual break, what with the commission beating down his door 24/7, and ayato couldn't think no one better than his favorite boy..

his boy, to give it to him.

you were just made to take him. your desperate whines and moans music to his ears as he slowly jerks off your sad cock, spreading the lube all between your thighs and back up to your eager hole. honestly, he can't imagine how he ever makes it through the day without you

if he could just pay you to look all pretty bent over his desk, filling that pretty boycunt a yours up like it deserves to be filled, he'd do it in a heartbeat.

“oh, puppy, look at you,” he coos sweetly in your ear, his dick jerking against the curve of your ass as he bends over to take your dick in his hands, dirtying it with your precum, “this is all it takes to get you wet? a whore like u cant go two minutes without having his hole stuffed, hmm?”

your ass perks up to his touch on instinct, rutting against him for some friction on your rim. you needed him inside you so bad.

“no baby,” ayato hums, small frown on his face as he presses his finger into the skin of your hip to hold you still, “none of that,”

his hard cock slides in between the warmth of your lube slick thighs, groan escaping his lips as you clench around him from the sensation. your hips stutter as you rock against him, the feeling of his cock against yours just too much to handle.

“what a slutty little ass you’ve got,” he gropes, “what did i tell you?”

“please,” you shake your head, hole winking up at him everytime he prods, begging for any sort of attention, “please put it in, please sir,”

and you make it so hard to resist what with the sweet way his name falls off your tongue.. but only good dogs get treats he reminds you, all gentle smiles as he runs his hands down your back and squeezes at your thigh, finally starting to fuck you in earnest.

“stay tight. don't let up till i finish,” he grunts, keeping you bent over his desk as your hands grip onto the edges of the table in an attempt to keep balance against the smack of his hips against your ass. the tip of his dick pokes through your thighs as he uses them like a fleshlight, spreading his pre all over you and the underside of your abandoned cock.

ayato's all up on you, chest pressed against your back as he groans in your ear so you can know personally just what you do to him. it has you fucking yourself back on his hard cock, begging for him to just touch you already, but the sudden ringing of his old desk phone distracts you.

ayato reaches for it, your eyes widening as you glance up at him shaking your head, but he just holds a single finger to his lips before sliding the phone onto his shoulder, giving his fingers full freedom to slide back into position on the small of your back as he slows his thrusts to a slow grind of his dick. you've got nothing to worry about, really. he's gonna make sure to fuck all those useless thoughts out your pretty little head all the same.

“yes?” he doesn't do much to hide the annoyance in his tone, his hands pressing into your warm skin, using you like some cheap toy as he forces you to stay down and take it.

“two pm? no, cancel that, thank you. yes i’m sure,”

it feels like his stupid talk could go on for forever, but he still manages to stay cool on call as he draws the softest moans out of you, pulling out from your thighs to see how you flinch when he slaps his dick across your unused hole, lightly tapping the side of ur ass so you can arch for him some more just like a good toy should. it all has your mind falling away, uselessly rutting yourself back onto his cock as he plays with you, making sure to stay all pretty laid out on the desk for him.

“i’m a little busy at the moment,” he leans down to press a kiss on your shoulder as he squeezes at your ass, voice almost a low whisper, “isn't that right?”

all you can do is nod your head, body too hot and aching to say no. so thoroughly fucked out you don't even notice hes ended the call already, phone disgarded somewhere on his desk as he picks up his pace again, watching his cock dissapear into the folds of your thighs as his free hand reaches around your middle.

“gods, youre so fucking filthy, look at you,” he laughs, pinching at the head of your cock, spreading your pre all over his fingers, “you really get off from being used like that?”

“‘m not,” your words break off what with the way your body betrays you, thighs clenching as he starts jerking off your pathetic cock,

“i wonder how everyone would react,” he leans down to your level, lips warm on your ear as he keeps his hand tight around you, “if they saw how wet you get from just the touch of my fingers,”

you rut back into his hand, silently begging, but he keeps his touches light, laughing at how desperate you get.

"use your words, puppy," he gently hums before squeezing your chin in his hands and forcing your mouth open with his fingers. his face is so close to yours you can feel his words on the skin of your neck, but his body keeps you pinned against the desk stuck from facing him, "cmon, tell me what you want,"

“please, sir,,” your body jerks as you cry, way too focused on chasing his hand. the feel of his fingers tracing over your tip, the rhythmic sound of his skin on yours, it leaves your head too empty to think of anything but release.

“a slut like you can do better than that”, he moves his hand from your dick, the smile on his lips clear as day as he listens to your incoherent moans, rubbing your mess all over your tummy.

“please let me cum, please,”

you can feel the smile on his lips as he takes your wrists in one hand, lifting you from his desk and exposing your fucked out body to the empty office.

your head falls back against his chest, body almost giving out when he finally takes your cock in his hand and finally gives you what you've been begging so prettily for.

“that’s it, let it all out,” your legs shake as you jerk your hips to try and match his pace, head too dumb to do anything but whine as you finally cum, voice caught all up in your throat, ayato's lips on yours silencing you as he finishes all over your thighs, and you all over his hand.

[prettypinkporkchop]

Paul lahote x female reader

Chicken Bone

Kim has been helping Emily with the kitchen while you are outside gathering wood with Sam.

"UGH, Sam, I'm tired. Don't you think this is enough for a year?" You giggle and whipe sweat off of your forehead. He laughs at you, making you glare at him. "You can stop. I don't need Paul getting upset with me for overworking you." He puts his hands on his hips, smiling at you. You hum in response and take off the work gloves Sam gave you.

You walk inside to see Emily and Kim fixing up the plates for the boys. There is enough food to feed all of the reservation but you're used to being around the pack at this point.

"WOOO HOOO!" You hear hooting and hollering from multiple men. You knew it was your imprinter and his family. You smile, and Kim rushes next to you. "Y/n, I have been thinking about this the whole time! Me and Emily have a bet. If you were to take a chicken bone away from Paul, I say he chases you. Emily says he just lets you have it." She laughs.

You burst into laughter and wrap your arm into hers. "Well then, Emily! What do you say? Kim do this to Jared too?" You look at the beauty of a woman who is pouring tea into glasses. She smirks at you two. "I think Jared would play a pity party!" Emily giggles. "I say, Jared simply wouldn't care and just pick up another chicken." You bet with Emily. "Oh goodness. This will be fun." She sighs with a grin as the boys all pile in.

Paul steps in front of you with a wide and bright smile. "I've missed you, my princess." He kisses your lips. The butterflies kick in asyou kiss him back. He pulls away and pecks your cheek and then leaves a lingering and sweet kiss on your forehead. He steps away to sit at the table next to Embry. Jared and Quil have their own conversation. Jacob, Leah, and Seth are currently at Billy's house, cleaning up for him.

After everyone finishes up, the boys do their classic thing. The dog comes out and they have to chew on a bone. You find this so funny and cute! Kim makes eye contact with you. She winks at you, mouthing, 'you first.' As Paul is chewing on the bone and laughing at Embry, you quickly grab it out of his hand and step away from him.

"Hey!" He calls out with confusion on his face. You start giggling and begin chewing on it, too. He watches you with his eyebrows furrowed. "That.. was the best bone in the whole plate." He mumbles in sadness. He sighs and sits down to pout.

Kim grabs Jared's and stands next to you. "Hey!" He gets up and she runs as he chases after her outside.

Emily is cackling while tears form in her eyes. All the men look confused. Paul is just brooding.

"We had a bet. Nobody was right." She chokes out.

So, Kim guessed Paul would chase you, but in fact, Jared chased her. And you guessed that Jared would let her have it, but he chased her! Unexpectedly, the pouts came from the hard ass, Paul Lahote.

Feeling bad, you stand behind Paul and hand him the bone. He grabs your wrist with a small amount of a grip. Not enough to hurt you but to be sure you don't move. "Y/n y/m/n, You pull this shit again, you won't be able to sit down." He growls before kissing your lips and then going back to the bone. You shiver and imagine what he is talking about.

Later that night, you get out of the shower, wrapping a towel around you. You step out of the bathroom and into your bedroom that you share with Paul. He's lying on his back with his eyes closed. You drop the towel and began digging through your drawer.

Paul's pair of warm arms pulls you into his hard body. A surprised yelp escapes your lips. "Ya know," he begins and starts leaving sloppy and wet kisses over your shoulder and neck. "Watching you chew that bone that was just in my mouth was very hot." He groans and grips harder onto your waist.

[rottedghuleh]

Naughty Brahmsy - Brahms Heelshire x F!Reader

"Right now you're mine, all mine."

A/N:  This is taking place after the first movie when Greta left. I might make this one into a series. Until I get some requests in, I'll be posting some of my own stuff I've written in my downtime. If you do have requests, look at my pinned post on my profile!

Warnings: some nonconsensual grabbing and grinding, blood, tit fucking, facial.

Brahms delt with the psychical ache of wanting to have you all for himself for weeks now ever since you moved in as new nanny. Your smell, skin, everything made him so thirsty for you that he could slit that pretty throat and drink you up. But he needed you alive, alive so he could make you his. In Brahms' mind, as long you lived in the manor, you were his to fuck and breed when desired. He was pathetic for you, spending nights of palming his hard on while watching you through the walls instead of just going out and taking you.

That what was going through his mind when watching you make him a sandwich. The filthy thoughts of bending you over the counter and breeding you until Brahms was collapsing on the floor. To have you shaking and mewling as he ravaged your skin. He never had actually done these things, just thought of it. All he had was the sex doll given to him by his parents so he could fuck out his frustrations and the porno magazines he kept in a messy pile. None of that was compared to the real thing. Brahms looked down from you at the aching between his thighs. The erection that reminded him that he had all the power to make you submit. Brahms had to do something. Even if it meant getting in trouble. Before you knew it, you were shoved up against the counter from behind, Brahms' massive hands gripping the edge of the counter. His nose tucked into the nook of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply. Each whiff made him whimper, God he was fucking pathetic but it was cute. Brahms pressed his hips up against your ass, his arms coming tightly around your hips, grinding hard against you like the horny bastard he was.

"Brahms, what are you doing?" You gasped out when you felt his erection pressed up against the curves of your body. It was fucking big, and it was needy for a wet hole. "Please...please. Shut up. Let me-" Brahms whined harder, his cool mask pressing against the sensitive skin of your neck. You hands pushed at his arms around his waist, causing the man to growl out and start to whimper like a hurt dog. "Brahms! Quit! You're being really bad!" You shouted out before you were interrupted his Brahms slamming his palm over your mouth to keep you shut. Brahms bent you over the counter, one hand on the back of your head and the other holding you up by your hips.

It all came crashing down when Brahms felt the sharp pain of small teeth digging into the meat of his palm. He smacked your mouth, yelling out in pain as he pulled away. The perfect, bloody indents of your teeth in his palm told Brahms all he needed to know about you. That you were going to be harder than he thought. "Brahmsy! Bad!" You hated being mean to him, Brahms was a sweet boy sometimes. Brahms glared at you like you had just told the man that he was a fucking failure and that you hated him. His eyes going wide under his mask in hot anger and then into sadness. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'll be good. I promise I will." Brahms held up his bleeding palm to you like he wanted you to tend to it.

He was a big ol' baby.

"Why the hell would you do that?" You took his hand on frustration, still trying to prod at it with gentle fingers. You used the hem of your apron to dab up the blood that was bubbling up in his palm. Brahms tilted his head at you, those damned puppy eyes. He always tried them whenever you weren't doing what he wanted. "I'm sorry. I just...I want to..." Brahms mumbled off, his eyes darting away quickly from you. You looked up from the crimson blood on his palm as he started to go quiet, only the deep and brooding melodies that came out of the gramophone filled the awkward silence between you two.

"You want to what?" You placed a finger on Brahms' chin, bringing his face back to you so he could look in your eyes. You felt his breath hitch in his throat, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. Brahms felt so sure earlier, so confident, now he was scared that you were disappointed in him and would leave. "I wanted to touch you." Brahms finally said, hissing through his teeth slightly as you applied pressure to the wound. His words caught you of guard, mostly because Brahms saying that wasn't normal for him. He was a bit weird and said out of pocket things, but he had a filter. "You have to ask to touch." You said firmly, hoping it would get the point across. His eyes lit up as you said that, that was what he wanted to hear.

"Can I..." Brahms held his hand up, making a squeezing motion with his fingers near your breast. You had to fight rolling your eyes, of course he was going for the tits. You just nodded, taking his palm and pressing it against your breast. Brahms' eyes stared at him palming your tit like it wasn't really happening. He eventually gave a soft squeeze, his breathing coming out harder from under the mask. Just a small touch and Brahms was already huffing like an angry bull over it. He reached his other hand up, squeezing the other breast. Brahms was gentle at first, his thumbs caressing your curves, feeling the smoothness of them though your shirt. Brahms looked down at you, his masked face inching closer to yours. It was the exact replica of the once perfect doll that was shattered just months ago. Brahms pressed the lips of the mask against your's. It was sweet, almost like he was kissing you with the small tits of his head. You reached a hand up, touching the bottom of it. "May I?" You asked gently to make sure not to tip Brahms off and cause him to freak out over nothing.

Brahms nodded quickly, he was excited. He never actually kissed someone besides his momma and Greta. But both left him. You lifted Brahms' mask up ever so slightly to just see his lips. They were small, chapped, his facial hair making the pink color of them stick out. You noticed the burn scars on the small bit of skin that was showing, it didn't bother you much, but it was a reminder of what he did. Brahms didn't give you a second to think, just crashed his lips straight into your's. His hands tangled up into your hair, holding it tight in his grasp to keep you in place. The kiss was like two teenagers making out for the first time. Sloppy, needy, breathy. Between each wet smack of your lips was a small gasp of air. Brahms palmed at your breasts again, grabbing them with a new heated fervour. His tongue protruded your mouth, prodding inside your mouth to try to taste you inside and out. His hands gripped the front of your shirt before pulling the front down enough for him to see. Brahms pulled from the kiss, his lips parted and glistening with the mix of your saliva with his.

Your breasts were beautiful to him. It was definitely worth the wait to Brahms, seeing tits out of his porn magazines was so much better. He didn't think before he spoke, the words just fumbling out. "Let me fuck them. Please." You looked up at Brahms with a shocked look, not bad shock, but just shock he would even want to do that. "Please. On your knees." He begged again. Brahms pulled the rest of your shirt up, letting your tits bounce out. You got down on your knees, raising yourself up just enough for Brahms to be able to easily shove his cock between them. Brahms moaned out loud, his mouth hanging open as his trembling opened his pants and pulled his cock out quickly. It was thick, heavy enough for it to still be slumped over when rock hard, a dark patch of curly pubes around the base. Brahms struggled for a bit to get it in position to the cleavage of your breasts before he got it. He pressed your tits together, shoving his cock up between them. The swollen, pink tip stuck out the tops of your breasts, the foreskin hugging slid down his shaft with each thrust.

Brahms was already panting and whining like a dog, his strong hands gripping your tits together. You tilted your head down just low enough to take his cock head in your mouth, making him moan out louder. Brahms watched as his precum built up at the slit of his cock, the sticky fluid glazing over your breasts. He took a hand, pinching one of your nipples roughly, making you yell out in pleasure. You could feel the folds between your thighs growing wetter by the moment as he twisted and pulled at your nipple and sending electric pleasure for you.

With a loud groan, Brahms pulled away, his cum shooting out of his cock in thick ropes onto your tits and face. You felt the warm liquid dripping dripping down your lips and breasts, leaving hot streaks of Brahms' seed behind. He reached to your face, smearing his cum over your lips like it was lip gloss. "Again?" Brahms asked with a tilt of his head, making you laugh softly.

"Later, Brahmsy. You were a good boy."

[roturo]

LOOKING FOR A RIDE?

UBER DRIVER! GOJO SATORU X READER.

WARNINGS: strangers sex, fingering, unprotected sex, nipple play (both receiving), slapping, switch!gojo satoru, switch!reader, tummy buldge, creamy pie kink, marking, virgin!reader, gojo whimpers (just bc i say so), riding, GOJO HAS NIPPLE PIERCINGS EVERYBODY!!, dumbification, sub-space, overstimulation, aftercare, fluffly ending.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: did i wrote this on the airplane? yes. do i got this idea while i was in a uber? yes. was the guy hot? no. was it a horny idea? absolutely. reblogs are appreciated.

Uber driver!Gojo who got a notification for a new ride. He looked at your name and thought this was going to be another drunk and annoying girl who would try to hit on him.

Uber driver!Gojo who picked you up from a bar but you looked everything but happy and drunk. You looked sad and mad. He thought this was going to be an awkward ride, feeling some kind of tension between the both of you.

Uber driver!Gojo, who was surprised you sat in the front seat and not in the back seat like most people do. He just greeted you and asked for the pin and destination. He gave you a sly smile and started driving.

Uber driver!Gojo who suddenly stopped the car thanks to a dog passing by without warning and grabbed your thigh preventing you from hitting yourself even if you had the seatbelt on. After a minute of relaxing himself, and checking nobody got hurt he locked eyes with you, a red blush flashing through his face when he noticed what he did.

Uber driver!Gojo who wouldn’t stop apologizing but kept his hand there, sliding it through your thigh, making you tremble each time he got closer to your core. He kept apologizing but a cocky smile was adorning his face.

Uber driver!Gojo who asked why you had a sad and angry face once you entered the car. Driving with just one hand while the other rests in your thigh.

Uber driver!Gojo who couldn’t believe it when you told him your boyfriend dumped you for your best friend in front of you— How could someone dump and hurt a cute thing like you?

Uber driver!Gojo who was about to take his hand off your thigh but surprised himself when you stopped him from doing it, placing it even closer to your core.

Uber driver!Gojo who started playing with your panties once you make your dress go higher and your thigh in full display— He didn’t take his eyes out of the road even if he was dying to see your wetness.

Uber driver!Gojo who let out a small sigh when you giggled and moved your panties to the side— so he could have access to your wet pussy.

Uber driver!Gojo who slid his fingers through your lips so they could get wet, circling your clit every time he could, making you leave small whimpers begging for more. 

Uber driver!Gojo who got even harder—(if possible) when he looked to his right and your face was full of tears and you were begging for his fingers inside of you and stop the teasing. When he inserted them the both of you let out a sigh— feeling how your cunt hugged him and every moan you let out when he touched that spongy place that made you see stars.

Uber driver!Gojo who started moving his fingers faster once he heard you moan his name. ‘Gojo, please more’ You said, trying to keep his hand inside of you. ‘It’s Satoru for you baby.’

‘S-satoru, please… make me yours..’

Uber driver!Gojo who lost all his sanity when you said those words and had to park in some empty parking lot. He wasted no time making more space while making his seat backwards— He grabbed you by the armpits and positioned you on top of his crotch— His hands resting on your hips in a possessive way— Making sure he will leave marks for you to remember.

Uber driver!Gojo who kissed you for the first time in the night— and kissed you like it was the last time he would do it. Savoring every moment of it, trying to leave a mark so everytime you kissed somebody else you would think of him.

Uber driver!Gojo who chuckled when you started unbuckling his belt while you straddled his leg— ‘Impatient, aren’t we?’— He helped you unbuckling his belt and undressing you, taking off your dress and noticing you were wearing no bra.

Uber driver!Gojo who kept staring at your chest for some minutes, a red blush notably adorning his face and ears. ‘You’re gonna cum in your pants before you get inside of me if you keep staring like that’— He looked back at you and smiled— caughting you by surprise when he inserted one of your nipples in his mouth.

Uber driver!Gojo who marked both of your nipples, reddish almost purple marks on them, he even made a heart in your left boob. Admiring his work of art, he took his cock out of his boxers. Rock hard, a pearl of cum coming out of the pinkish tip, going down to his base— white trimmed little hairs adorning it— a vein coming out of his left side, circling his cock.

Uber driver!Gojo who got even more amused when you kept staring at his cock in surprise, like it was your first time— Uber driver!Gojo who swears he could cum in the moment when you told him ‘Uhm… I’ve never done this… Like… inside y’know.’

Uber driver!Gojo who got an urgent urge to be your first and stretch you out, molding your cunt for his cock only— He wanted to watch you cry and for you to beg for mercy.

Uber driver!Gojo who said he would take it slow since it was your first time but he didn’t expect for you to insert his cock all inside of you in no time. Making him leave a whimper out of his mouth which almost sounded like whine— Your eyes full of tears, leaving small moans even if you’re not moving, his hands not moving from your hips, grabbing them ever harder than before.

Uber driver!Gojo who started whimpering once you moved for the first time—slow and cautious with your movements had him going dizzy and giddy of how good you felt. Sighs coming out of his mouth, when you started going faster. 

Uber driver!Gojo who’s demeanor changed once you started crying of pleasure and rocking his hips with no rhythm— his hips slapping with your ass, moans and slap of skin was all the sound you could hear. Your hands traveled down his shirt, looking for his chest.

Uber driver!Gojo who let out a high pitched moan when you pinched his nipples—the feeling of the cold metal on them and the warm pinch of his hand making him see stars— never experiencing this before, always dominating his partner, but now it was like both of you had control with the other.

Uber driver!Gojo who would never admit he liked the feeling of submission, leaving whimpers every time you jumped on his cock and pinched his pierced nipples— You took off his shirt and inserted one of his nipples inside of your mouth while you continued riding him—the cold feeling of metal and spit wetting his nipple making him even more sensible.

Uber driver!Gojo who grabbed you by the hair, making you look at him—he kissed you passionately, but then slapped you across the face, caughting you by surprise and moaning out his name.

Uber driver!Gojo who felt his high coming and started thrusting inside of you roughly, making you dumb—vision blurry and incapable of forming coherent words. Rolling your eyes everytime his cock touched that spot inside of you.

Uber driver!Gojo who grabbed one of your hands and positioned it on your tummy, making you feel his cock going in and out of you.

Uber driver!Gojo who made you cum while he continued thrusting inside of you— you couldn’t see anything at this point and tears were all you could feel coming out of you.

Uber driver!Gojo who came the hardest he has ever come before, tears coming out of his eyes and a moan turning into a groan when he felt his body not stopping from filling you up. Feeling your tummy grow a little thanks to the amount of cum inside of you, you’re not even sure if your birth control would prevent this.

Uber driver!Gojo who let out heavy breaths of out him trying to calm himself down, when your body is on top of him— resting and waiting for you to come back to reality— still inside of you while one of his hands rests in your low back and the other is playing with your hair.

Uber driver!Gojo who’s really sensitive but waits for you to gain consciousness back— whispering sweet words in your ear while he gives you small peaks on your head. You wouldn’t lie, you stayed like that a little more even if you felt awake again, loving the feeling of the both of you.

Uber driver!Gojo who helped you out of him, keeping you on top of him, resting your body on him, while your hands and head rested on his chest. ‘So… do you wanna go on a date?… I don’t know, maybe give it a try and i’ll show  your best friend and ex-boyfriend they didn’t know what they just lost?… Show them how beautiful you are, show them how your smile could brighten up a whole town. Show them you’re happier without them.’

[beenbaanbuun]

fever w/ kang yeosang

words - an amount 🙂‍↕️

genre - hurt/comfort, sickfic

warnings - food avoidance because of illness, mentions of vomiting, reader is a little bratty but it’s the fever talking, yeosang is tired :((, not proof read

——————————————————————————

“you need to eat something, baby,” yeosang grumbles, arm folded crossly over his half-exposed pecs. you can’t help but focus on the way he’s standing there in nothing but a tank top and some shorts while you’re sat shivering in one of the many hoodies that you’ve stolen from his closet. you’ve been blaming the fever for how cold you seem to be at the minute, but you’ve always ran a little colder than your boyfriend. whenever he needs a sweater, you need a sweater, a coat and a scarf. you’re just a little nesh, you suppose.

your eyes flicker around the kitchen, studying everything that crosses your vision. perhaps you could have some toast, you think as your eyes land on the half-finished loaf of bread on the counter. then you think about how heavy your stomach feels, even when it’s empty, and you realise that perhaps toast isn’t the best option. you turn your nose up and move on to the bowl of fruit that yeosang had just refilled this morning. the scent of the bananas alone is enough to make you feel sick, and perhaps the citrus fruits aren’t the best choice when you’ve been struggling to keep food down.

“i’m only going to throw it up again,” you argue, trying your hardest to make your expression pathetic and sad. you commit to it, bringing out the sad arched brows and the big wet eyes. your bottom lip juts out just a little and for extra effect, you can’t help but wobble it a little. for a moment of two, you’re almost sure it’ll work. yeosang’s eyes soften and his arms go limp and fall back to his sides. you’re almost positive that he’ll let you off with another day of medicine and water, you can practically feel it on your tongue—

“you don’t know until you try.”

your shoulders sink upon hearing your words and your features drop, expressing only apathy and defeat. sure, the puppy dog eyes have never worked on him before, but there’s a first time for everything. you were certain that this would be that time.

“yeosang!” you whine, trying to grab his attention as he turns to face the countertop. he whines your name back in exactly the same nasally tone you used. “please! my throat already hurts from all the acid; i just want one day where i don’t throw up. it’ll make me feel less miserable.”

he ignores you, lifting his phone from the counter and typing a few words into safari. you wish you could see i what it says, but from your position, huddled up on a dining chair—which you would only move from if a hefty bribe was offered your way—you can’t even dream of looking around his oversized torso.

damn him for getting buff.

“google says banana’s are goo—”

“no,” you cut him off, head shaking wildly like a petulant child.

“baby~”

“they smell bad!”

with a sigh, yeosang goes back to looking.

“dry brown rice?” he offers meekly, already foreseeing the outcome of his offer. he doesn’t even have to turn around to see your face screwed up in displeasure; it’s already so clear in his mind. “nevermind, it was a stupid suggestion.”

you hum in agreement, the small sound making him crack a small smile. despite being incredibly difficult, yeosang can admit that you do have your sweet moments while you’re feverish. your mind may be muddled and your body doing everything in its power to make your life a living hell, but you still somehow manage to put a smile on his face.

if he wasn’t desperate to not catch whatever 18th century plague has taken up residence in your body, he’d spin around and kiss you. squish your cheeks together like he always does when he wants to annoy you a little, bring your face up to his, and just kiss you. it’s almost impossible not to when he’s been missing out on the feeling of your lips on his for the past few days, but when he hears the sound of your stomach churning and a pained groan leave your lips, he remembers exactly why he’s doing this to himself.

“how about broth?” he suggests, putting his mind back on the task at hand, “you like broth, baby.”

he’s right, you do like broth. or at least you like it when you’re not feeling like satan himself has put his little tapdancing shoes on specifically to do a jig atop your stomach. instinctively you wrap an arm around your abdomen which after a short period of docility, has began to cramp again. that broth really doesn’t sound appealing right now…

“yeosang…” you say, dejected and miserable. he sighs, understanding exactly what you mean by saying his name in that tone of voice; it’s a disheartened no from you.

and while it pains him to be forceful with you—or anyone for that matter—he can’t just sit and watch you waste away over a poorly stomach. he has to put his foot down for once.

“baby, you need to eat,” he sighs and rubs a hand over his face. he hates being so bossy with you, almost as much as he hears the weary sound pass from your lips just after his soft command. “just a small bowl, okay? just for me; your yeosang?”

and while it’s an obvious guilt trip, a little bribe to make you feel a little bad about refusing to eat, you can’t help but fall for it. you sigh, wrapping your arms around your knees so you can pick at your fingers guiltily. it’s not like you can help being sick, but maybe you have been a little dramatic about the whole refusing to eat thing. sure, your stomach churns at even the thought of food, but yeosang is right; if you don’t try, you won’t know. the idea of throwing up again frightens you, but broth is a liquid; it’ll be easy to come back up.

you resign with a minuscule hum, so quiet it’s almost silent.

“fine,” yeosang hardly believes the word when you say it with so much resignation, “one small bowl of broth…”

[luveline]

if you're still taking them I would love to make a request for Eddie and Roan! do you know how sometimes little kids will call their parents workplace just to talk about the most random things or just ask some totally super important question? I feel like roan would do that with the reader and Eddie

thank you for your request!! eddie and roan —roan learns how to use the phone, 1.3k

Eddie used to feel nervous when the phone rang for him at work. "Call for baby Munson!" shouted across the shop while Eddie was usually flat on his back under a truck or elbow deep in a scooter engine, he'd get this pit in his stomach thinking something was wrong. 

It was usually daycare. Roan's sick, Roan's wet herself and her spare clothes aren't here, is Roan allergic to veggie sticks? Because she's saying she is. 

But nowadays, a phone rings for him and it's almost always you with something nice to say. You miss him. You've been thinking about him. All manner of gooey soft confession that has him clutching the phone like a loser, desperate for your voice. 

He springs away from his lunch when he's called. Darwin gives Eddie a funny look as he passes the phone. 

Eddie shrugs it off. "Hello?" he asks. "Y/N?"

"It's me!" 

Eddie feels his eyebrows leap up. "Hi, me." Roan hadn't ever used the phone unassisted, to his memory. "Where's mom?" 

"She's trying to fix your hair dryer." 

Eddie hears it, then, the roaring blow in the background. "Why does it sound like that?" 

"She dropped it. I think she's sad." 

"Ro, I fixed it!" you shout, followed by an even louder howling of air, and a heavy silence. "Okay, I didn't." 

"Is that why you called me?" Eddie asks, bemused.

"No, I called you because I want to know how they make corndogs. How do they get the hot dog inside of the corn, dad?" 

Eddie puts his hand on the wall to steady himself as he laughs. "You wanna know how they make corndogs? Are you gonna make some?" 

"I could if I knew how!" she stresses. "I'd ask mom, but she's pre-oc-u-pied."

"That's a big word, babe, where'd you learn that one?" Eddie asks, impressed. 

"Dad, corndogs!" 

"Right, right. Okay, well. They put the hot dog on the stick first, and then the corn part is actually batter. They roll the hotdog around in the batter and cook them together in the fryer. So it isn't the hotdog going into the corn, it's actually corn going on the hotdog." 

"Batter like for cakes?"

"No," he laughs fondly. "And it's not sweet corn, babe, it's something called cornmeal. Maybe we can make some this week, wouldn't that be fun? Then you can see how they make them for real. I think that would be super fun."

His bubbly tone attracts the attention and subsequent laughter of his colleague. He throws them all the bird, totally content and more than happy with his life and his curious girl. 

"Yes," Roan cheers, dragging the 's' syllable until she's out of breath, "oh my god that would be so fun!" 

"Okay, then that's what we'll do. Are you being good for mom?" 

"I'm being awesome." There's a weird crunching noise. "Did you hear that? I think she put the screwdriver in the hairdryer again." 

"Again?" Eddie asks worriedly. 

Roan must put the phone down. Eddie genuinely can't hear a thing, until you pick up the receiver and say, "Hallo?" 

"You blowing up the house?" 

You make a pleased noise that has his heart doubling in size. "Hi, Eddie. I'm having a technological mishap, but rest assured, we are in no danger of explosion. Anymore. What did you call for? It's lunch, isn't it?" 

"Actually, Roan called me. She wanted to know how to make corndogs." 

"You do know everything," you say. "Go and eat your lunch, baby. We'll still be here when you get home, yeah? I love you. Roan, come and tell daddy you love him before we hang up." 

A small silence. "Dad?" Roan asks. 

"Yep, still here." 

"I love you, okie dokie? Please come home in an hour."

Eddie laughs warmly. It's more like four hours, but whatever she wants to think is what he'll tell her. "I love you. Tell Y/N I love her, too, will you? Thank you." 

"Yes!" Her voice comes quieter, "I love you," Roan says to you. 

"I love you, too. Let's make dinner." 

You must think he's said goodbye, because the phone gets a knock and the dial tone sounds. 

—

You're sitting at your desk shovelling pretzels into your mouth while you click around your emails when the phone rings. You slide it between your ear and shoulder, pausing your frankly messy chewing. "Hello and good afternoon, Y/N L/N speaking, how can I help?" 

"Y/N?" Roan says worriedly.

"Roan? What's the matter?" 

"Oh, it is you! It didn't sounded like you at first, that's weird." 

"Sorry, gorgeous, I was using my voice for fancy grown ups."

She giggles like this is the funniest thing you've ever said to her, "You're being funny," she praises. 

You're secretly incredibly pleased. Making your six year old laugh never gets old. "So nothing is wrong, then? You know, those numbers on the fridge are for emergencies." 

"This is an emergency." 

"Yeah, I bet. What's going on? Where's dad?" 

"He's making toffee cake for you. I was helping him do the buttercream but my arms got tired from whisking." 

"Is that why you're calling me?" 

"Yeah." 

You dig for a saltier pretzel and chew thoughtfully. "What's the tiredest part? Your shoulders?" 

"And my fingers." 

"Asked daddy to kiss 'em better?" 

"I would but he's trying to be perfect about the cake. It looks yummy." 

"Did you get to lick the bowl?" 

"Yeah, and dad let me eat a spoon of the melted chocolate. It was pretty great." 

You grin into the receiver. "I bet it was amazing. Maybe you can try and rest your poor arms. Make daddy pour you a big glass of cranberry juice with the heart shaped ice cubes and watch TV until I come home, okay? That's an order."

"Okay," she laughs. "When are you coming home?" 

"I can leave in about twenty minutes, and the drive home takes another twenty, so…" You check the time on your computer. "I think by five." 

"Ugh, that's forever away." 

"I know. Do what I said, okay? Sit down on the couch. I can have a little look at your arms when I come home, maybe we can have a pamper night tonight. We can use some of my fancy lotion and rub it in like a massage," you say. 

"That sounds nice," she hums. 

"Alright, sweetheart. Listen, can I talk to dad before I go back to work?" 

"Yep, yep." You know what's coming as soon as she inhales. "Daddy!" she bellows at the top of her lungs, "Y/N's on the phone!" 

It's flattering how swiftly he gets there. "Hey?" he asks. 

"Hi, do we need anything for me to grab on the way home? I know you ran out of deodorant, was there anything else?" 

"Nothing I can think of. You okay?" 

"I'm awesome. I told Ro you'd make her a big cup of juice for her sore arms." 

"She told you about those, huh?" He kisses her audibly. "She's the best mixer ever. I was thinking we'd change her name to kitchen aid." 

You choke on a pretzel. Coughing, you laugh through a chastisement. "You leave her name alone. Roan is a nice name all by itself." 

"If you insist," he says grandly. "See you in an hour? I've got a surprise for you." 

"I can't wait," you say. You'll pretend to be totally surprised at his cake, no problem. Anything to make him smile. "Love you both. See you soon." 

"Love you. Say love you," Eddie prompts. 

"I love you!" Roan yells. "I'll make dad put your blanket in the dryer!" 

You put down the phone with a small smile, wondering if you can weasel your way past your eagle-eyed coworkers for an early finish. 

[woniefication]

ENHYPEN HYUNG LINE WHEN YOUR’E SAD

Genre: fluff

Warnings: None :)

𝑳𝒆𝒆 𝑯𝒆𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒖𝒏𝒈 (이희승)

Seeing you sad broke Heeseung on the inside. That’s when an Idea popped up in his head.

Quickly he grabbed his coat and grabbed your hand dragging you gently.

“Where are we going Hee?” You questioned.

“You’ll see baby”. He answered a small smile plastered on his face.

He guided you to the passenger seat of his car, you were always the passenger princess. He drove off not really going anywhere specific. That’s how you knew he was taking you for a late night drive.

He placed a hand gently on your thigh.

“Don’t you ever be sad princess.”

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑱𝒂𝒚 (박종성)

Jay like the man he is would notice immediately.

“No,baby not while I’m here let it all out.” He said while placing you on his lap.

You placed your head into the crook of his neck bawling your eyes out. Jay could feel his hoodie getting wet but he didn’t care, he was busy rubbing comforting circles on your back.

“Let it all out love, I’m here for you always darling.”

That moment altered your brain chemistry forever, Jay was the guy you wanted forever for sure.

𝐒𝐢𝐦 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 (제이크)

“Baby come on, get up.” Jake would say as he noticed you staring blankly into nothing on the couch.

Suddenly you felt a wet lick on your ankle, it was Layla your dog. You let out a slight chuckle.

Jake watched as Layla continued to lick and rub agains you ,her fur soft.

“How about we all go for a walk around the block? it’ll even help you feel better.” Jake suggested.

You shrugged seemingly content with the suggestion. You quickly put Layla’s leash on,and waited for Jake to wear his jacket.

The walk was so calm and comforting your hand in Jake’s. There’s nowhere else you’d like to be.

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒏 (성훈)

Sunghoon always the quiet type,felt the guilt eating at him because he didn’t know how to comfort you.

He abruptly got up and went to the kitchen. Turning the kettle on and getting a hello kitty mug and placing a tea bag inside.

When the tea was done he wrote a small note on a sticky note.

“My dearest girlfriend I hope this tea warms you up, I love you :)”

He placed the note on the side of the mug walking over to you silently and placing the mug infront of the counter infront of you.

He hoped you would notice his effort.

[bella-goths-wife]

How the yandere bowers gang protects you

Warnings: sexual assault, revenge porn, physical abuse, murder, gore, emotional abuse, verbal abuse, manipulation, fucked up dynamics, forced relationships, MDNI

I do not intend to romanticise or normalise any of the themes I write about, I use them simply for entertainment value and do not encourage the replication of these actions!

Henry bowers:

You never really expected any aspect of Henry to be protective

You assume the hands that lay countless bruises on your skin to be the ones to shield you from the ruthless touch of others

But below the surface, there’s a part of Henry that yearns to hide you away from the ugliest parts of the world

Even if he himself is one of the ugliest aspects of your life

He pushed that part of himself down for the sake of keeping his composure while correcting you

He can’t go soft on you and allow disrespect now can he?

But there was always a firmness in the rule of never visiting his home

You assumed it was because he was embarrassed of you and didn’t want you to meet his father, when in actuality it was quite the opposite

But belch had dropped you off in a hurry at Henry’s when the rest of the group was out of commission and he had to get home quickly, and you couldn’t avoid the bowers residence

You knocked on the door only to be greeted by Henry’s father, who stared at you leeringly and suddenly you felt like a lost lamb backed into a corner by a rabid dog

Oh, how much did Henry’s gaze replicate his fathers in certain lights

When Henry saw the scene of his father looking at you with the look of an overjoyed dog at the sight of fresh meat, his mind couldn’t stop but to wonder about his mother

Suddenly, he felt like that helpless child watching his mother squirm and scream no as a the male embodiment of terror beat her and ripped her clothes

He felt the urge to run to you, to hide you in his chest and stroke your hair that he loved so much all while reassuring you that everything was okay

Like he wanted someone to do to him when he was a child

But instead, he responds in the only language that he could speak with his father as he yelled at him while pushing him away

He positioned himself in front of you as he purposely angered his abuser in order to distract his wandering gaze to you

He screamed at you to go home, allowing you to be alone for the first time in months out of desperation

You returned to your home and oddly enough, you couldn’t remember how to act normally in your own home

Your life was a constant performance of survival, how were you supposed to act while the curtain to your theatre were momentarily shut?

You just sat for hours on the couch and listened out for the next command or for your next warning and reprimand

For hours, just sat as still as a statue with tense shoulders as you awaited the next performance

You eventually went to bed around the same time that the boys would, much later then you did before them but for some reason their schedules had merged with yours and overtaken your thoughts

Henry entered your home a few hours before sunrise and creeped into your room

He was battered and bruised as he looked down at you in your bed, you couldn’t help but think about all the times he had left you in a similar state to try and ease your misplaced sympathy

You assumed he’d punish you for your rule break, but he just slowly climbed into your bed and laid his head on your chest

He commanded your hands to stroke his hair and for you to reassure him

Small tears escaped his eyes and wet your shirt as he commanded you to tell him that he was nothing like his father, that he was a better man

The lies felt like acid on your tongue as you reassured him quietly until he fell asleep

Henry was too far gone to ever understand that he didn’t break the cycle, he replicated it perfectly

Patrick Hockstetter:

You had been weird lately, Patrick had noticed

You had always been mopey and sad, but lately you were downright depressed

You neglected your personal appearance as you refused to eat or care for yourself in any way

This had caused Patrick’s attraction to you fade slightly, and that would not do in Patrick’s eyes

His sexual attraction was the only real feeling he felt, and it was his one true connection to you in terms of outside of his obsession

So Patrick decided to do some digging

He had found that some girls from school had been harassing you daily for the last few weeks during the few times you were without them

They had taken your clothes when you were changing in the ballet studio and had ruined the clothes you had handmaid, leaving you in only a towel

Luckily belch lended you his shirt but your humiliation lasted for days

The harassment didn’t stop there, they would put sharp tacs in your ballet shoes, loosened a balancing pole so that you’d fall when using it, called you all sorts of names

Now Patrick didn’t particularly care about your general well-being, as shown by his abusive and enabling behaviours

But when something affects his attraction to you, then it becomes a problem for Patrick

And you being in this depressive mood definitely affected his attraction, so Patrick took matters in his own hands

He decided to use what he knew and slept with each of the girls, roughly and painfully but with consent which was a curtesy he never offered you, before taking pictures of them on his camera and having the pictures developed

After a night of his usual forceful abuse, he showed you the pictures as some sort of twisted aftercare

The photos made you feel physically ill as you asked him why

He claimed he was protecting you, that those girls wouldn’t bother you now

All a lie, his motives were completely selfish

You cried at the pictures and he assumed you were jealous, so he assured you that he’d fix it

The next day he spread the pictures across the school, forcing the girls to isolate themselves out of humiliation

Patrick assumed the problem was fixed now and told you that you owed him

Despite the heavy guilt in your gut, you couldn’t help but find enjoyment in the fact the girls presence was no longer constant

Victor criss:

Victor was an observant guy, especially when it came to you

He memorised everything he could about you

He knows your routines, your preferences, your anxiety’s and your expressions

And he knew the minute that one of the male ballet teacher helped you stretch by grabbing at your thigh, that you were extremely uncomfortable

At first he tried to brush it off as a misreading of the situation, simply not knowing enough about a ballerinas strict routine

But he definitely did not misread the situation when he came to pick you up one afternoon and saw you cornered by your teacher with a look of absolute fear on your face

You practically ran to vic and held on to him tightly as you lead him out the building, something that only confirmed your fear as you usually repulsed away from his touch

He prodded you for answers but you became snappy with him and as he was about to reprimand you, he saw the tears that were close to streaming down your face with any more pressure

Vic was enraged

who was this piece of shit to touch you? Does he not know your owned? Does he not know your bowers gang property? Did he not realise that you were victors property?

Vic’s mind is made up as he drops you off with belch before making his way back to the ballet studio

He used your teacher as a pin cushion as he used his switch blade over and over and over until vic finally felt he had gotten his message through

He cut the hands off individually before skinning them and keeping the bones and hiding them away

He informed the rest of the bowers gang and they helped him stuff the body with rocks and watched it sink to the bottom of the river, never to be found again

They didn’t question him, they didn’t question his brutality, they just helped him clean up his mess

The same as what he’d do for them

Vic never told you what happened to your ballet teacher, but you inferred it from the context clues of the bones under his bed and the hidden away bloody clothes

All he asked for in return was a kiss and to be able to hold your hand without you looking sick

You tried your best

Belch Huggins:

There’s something surprisingly soft in belch’s protection

He’s the biggest in the group and most assumed to be violent, but he’s the softest out of the boys

His protection can range from small thin to big things

He expresses his protection in many different ways

He covers the side of the table if your grabbing something from underneath it, he walks on the side of the sidewalk closet to the road, he holds you hands or your clothes in public places to keep track of you

He even protects you in the gang sometimes by positioning himself slightly in front of you in a group setting, taking the blame for your mistakes and distracting the others from your actions

But there is always going to be a dark side to belch

And that dark side was brought out specifically by some drunk grabbing at you harshly on the walk home, not knowing belch was with you

Belch felt iron hot fury in his veins as he looked at the scene of this drunk bastard grabbing you so hard it could probably bruise your skin

Your a goddess in belch’s eyes, a slice of heaven bestowed upon earth and something he can indulge in and hopefully on day overdose on

And to see this drunkenly ignorant fool dirty your perfection with his disgusting touch? Well it set off a reaction in belch that he hoped you’d never have to see

He bashed the man’s head against the pavement over and over again as he felt every scream of pain was retribution for him disgracing the religion of you that belch follows so piously

The crunch of the mans broken nose against the floor brings belch back to reality as his eyes shoot up and meet your horrified gaze

You had seen belch commit violent acts before, you had been a victim of those acts many times

But those were all on the orders of Henry’s, this time was different

This act was committed with free will

Belch hurriedly tried to explain himself and begged you to not be afraid

You swallow your fear and horror as you hold his bloodied hands in yours and belch only looks down at you with practically heart eyes

You assumed that if you rejected him the violence would turn on you, and all though you were wrong belch was too blinded with awe to understand that

In his eyes you had just accepted the most ugly part of himself, proving that the pedestal he had placed you on was correct and you were the angel on earth that he thought you was

In your eyes, you had just dodged a possibly painful punishment

In reality, you had just tamed the beast with a gentle giant underneath the surface

[leossmoonn]

Can you do Mike with a single mom with a son like she moves into the neighborhood and her son and Abby get along super well?

includes - abby and her son already are friends. after freddy’s. feelings are caught fast. not edited.

————

“hey, baby. how was school?” you place a hand on his back, guiding him to your car.

“good,” he says, opening the door and climbing in.

“wait, henry!” a little voice shouts from behind you. you turn around, seeing a little girl with curly hair and bangs running towards your car.

“abby! stop running!” a man shouts as he follows after her.

henry pushes past you, exiting the car and stepping onto the sidewalk.

“you forgot this,” abby says, handing him one of his star wars action figures. he smiles at her and takes it. “thanks.”

the man chasing after her huffs as he stops behind her. he puts his hands on his hips, glaring down at her. “you can’t just go off running like that, abby.”

she turns to him and shrugs, not seeming to care. “sorry.”

“i think you should start putting that in your backpack, bud. carrying it around isn’t safe for it,” you suggest.

henry nods in agreement. you look back at abby, smiling at her. “thank you for returning the toy. that’s very kind of you.”

“you’re welcome!” she grins, showing her pearly white teeth off. “someone stole my toy at school and i was really sad, so i thought henry might be mad if that happened.”

you laugh softly and nod. “he definitely would’ve been.”

you glance at the man now standing next to her. his face has softened now. his cheeks are dusted pink from having to sprint, but he’s caught his breath now.

“hi, i’m y/n,” you say, holding your hand out for him to shake. “hi, i’m mike.” he gives you a small smile.

“your daughter is very kind,” you say.

abby grimaces and shakes her head. mike chuckles. “she’s my sister.”

“oh,” you say, heat creeping up your neck. “I’m sorry.”

he shakes his head. “no need to apologize. you couldn’t have known.”

you nod in reply. something passes between you two as you stare at each other, hands still clasped together. something that makes your skin tingle and brain melt.

“mom, i’m hungry,” henry says, tugging on your shirt. you’re pulled out of your daze and you both pull your hands away quickly. you smile bashfully, not realizing how long your hand had been in his. “it was nice meeting you. maybe i’ll see you again if abby comes out and talks to henry.”

mike nods, “definitely. it was nice meeting you, too.”

you give him an awkward wave goodbye, ushering henry back into the car. mike grabs abby’s hand and walks her to his car.

“it was nice of you to do that for that boy, but don’t just run off next time, okay?” mike says as he opens the door for her.

“mmkay,” she sighs, hopping into the car. “that woman is really pretty,” she remarks as he sits in the driver’s seat.

mike’s ears turn a little pink at the thought of you. “she’s… yeah, she’s good looking.”

abby giggles in the backseat. “you like her.” he groans, “you have to stop saying that.”

“why? it’s true.”

“because it makes me… it makes me look like a weirdo. especially if you were to say that in front of her.”

“because you know it’s true,” abby remarks. “whatever,” he rolls his eyes. yes, he’ll admit, he found you attractive. you are a very beautiful woman, but he just met you. it would be crazy if he started to like you this sudden… right?

“i’m going to get the mail real quick, okay?” you say to henry who is watching tv.

“okay,” he says, keeping his eyes glued to the screen. you slip on some sandals, walking down your lawn to grab some mail. a familiar voice catches your attention.

“my hair looks fine.”

“no, you look like a wet dog!”

you turn your head, your jaw quite literally dropping. “no way,” you gasp.

“hi, henry’s mom!” abby exclaims, loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear. mike gets out of the car, eyes widening upon spotting you. now he’s actually concerned whether or not he looks like a wet dog.

“hey!” you wave. “hey!” mike says, smiling brightly.

“what a coincidence, right?” you laugh. mike nods, “yeah. actually, abby told me she knew where henry’s lives. i thought she was being creepy, but now i know that it’s true.”

now you’re really laughing. “henry said something similar. he told me the other day that he’s seen your house.”

“he’s not wrong,” mike shrugs. “can i go inside?” abby asks.

“um,” mike says, a little weary of living her inside alone. he wants to keep talking to you, but he doesn’t want to be absent in case something bad happens. he’s about to answer when henry walks outside.

“mom, can i make some chicken nuggets?”

“sure, honey. let me help you with the oven,” you say.”

“hi, abby!” henry shouts. “hi!” she grins. she starts making her way down the driveway. this time, mike is close enough to catch her. “what are you doing?”

“going to talk to my friends.”

“abby, no. they didn’t invite us over.”

“how would you know? you don’t have any friends.”

mike scoffs, not even sure what she means by that. he hears you giggle and instantly softens.

“you guys can come over here. we aren’t busy,” you say.

“you sure?” he asks. “of course. i can make you guys some chicken nuggets,” you smile.

mike takes a step into your house, surprised by how well decorated it is. it looks like you live in a completely different neighborhood compared to the interior of his house. there are pictures of your family and friends everywhere, fancy-looking abstract paintings, and cool-toned furnishings and decorations that makes mike feel ten times more calm after entering.

“if you’re actually hungry i can make you something else,” you say, walking into the kitchen. mike slowly trails behind you, still taking in your house. it doesn’t feel muggy and depressing like his. you get great light and the plants by the windows and on shelves and counters help, too. your house feels warm and happy.

“i’m okay, thank you,” mike says. “would you like something to drink then?” you ask.

“sure. water is fine.”

you fill a cup up, handing it to him. “i hope we aren’t interrupting any of your saturday plans.”

he scoffs with a little smile. “i should be saying that to you.”

“i’m usually pretty flexible. we just moved here, too, so i don’t know anybody or know where anything is.”

“oh, right. i remember seeing the moving trucks,” mike says. “yep, those were mine,” you chuckle.

“can i ask why you moved?”

“job offer,” you answer. “wow, congrats,” he smiles.

“thank you. it’s kind of part of the reason why i haven’t tried going out. work is moving faster than i anticipated, but it’s fine. it keeps me busy.”

mike nods, “yeah, between work and abby, i barely have anytime to myself.”

“where do you work?” you ask. “uh, i’m a store manager,” he answers, looking away bashfully.

you cock your head to the side, not understanding why he suddenly got all shy. “must be nice to be the boss,” you remark.

“it is,” he nods. “now i know why all my bosses in the past hated me when i was just a regular employee.”

you giggle, putting your hands on one of the kitchen chairs, leaning against it. mike’s eyes drop to your hands, not noticing a ring on your finger. he tries not to get too excited, although his heart is skipping beats and his cheeks hurt from repressing a smile.

“i remember working in stores and whatnot. it’s hard being an employee. we always get blamed,” you say.

mike snorts a little bit. “most of you guys never do anything right.”

“mmm, and who’s fault is that?” you quirk a brow. mike would be afraid that he hit a nerve and accidentally started an argument, but the coy smile on your face lets him know you’re bantering with him.

“well, i am the boss, so i get the last say.”

“that’s kind of how my boss is at work. he’s nice and all, but he can he kind of… condescending.”

“i can promise i am not like that.”

“i didn’t think you were.”

mike blushes a little bit, letting out a breathy laugh. something passes between you two again. something that makes mike feel like his throat is dry and that he needs an inhaler.

“mom, can you help me with the nuggets?” henry asks.

“oh, yes!” you turn around, seeing that henry had already put all the food on the baking tray. as you teach henry how to use the oven, mike takes the liberty in looking at the pictures that are on your fridge.

there are some of you and henry when he was a baby. you’re in what looks like a college dorm. your hair is very late-90s as well as your clothes. there’s another one of you with people who look like your parents. a couple more with your friends. there are lots of pictures of henry throughout the years. one particularly catches his eye. it’s of you carrying henry when he was about 2-3 years old with a guy who’s kissing your cheek. his heart sinks. he feels so ridiculous for feeling this strongly about you.

he wonders if his feelings for you are because he barely gets any play ever. he wonders if he’s just excited about talking to a woman, like a stupid high school kid. but there’s just something about you. your warm and welcoming presence and your smile that’s like the sun. or maybe it’s that you’re funny and caring and obviously a very good home decorator. not to mention, you’re gorgeous. of course you’d have a husband, or at least a boyfriend.

“we aren’t married. or dating.”

mike blinks rapidly as your voice breaks him out of his sad daze. “w-what?” he stammers.

“i see that you’re staring at milo and i,” you say. “i-i didn’t mean to invade or anything,” he rushes out.

you shake your head and shrug. “i have the picture there. if i didn’t want people asking questions, i wouldn’t have put it up.”

mike nods in reply, still afraid he’s blown his shot with you. if he even had one in the first place, that is.

“we were married,” you say. “but we divorced two years ago.”

“i’m sorry to hear that,” mike swallows hard. he is sorry to hear that, but it plants a little hope in his head.

“it’s alright. we were high school sweethearts. he got me pregnant when we were 19. we got married at 22, but in the end it didn’t work. honestly, we stayed together because of henry.” you look at your son who is now playing with action figures with abby. “but those types of relationships never work.”

“does henry miss him?” mike asks. “he does,” you nod. “he says he doesn’t, but i know he does. he was dad’s little guy. he’s just playing it tough, though. he learned that from milo.”

mike laughs a little. “well, henry is a very nice kid. you guys raised him well.”

“we aren’t done yet,” you smile. “has milo come to visit?” mike asks.

“not yet. he’s a great dad and i think he’s already made plans to visit next month. the only reason why i have full custody is because milo is traveling the world. he just turned 30 and is having an identity crisis, or whatever. and we both agreed it’d be good for henry to go to school and have some type of stability in his life. which, i know, is funny since we moved. but i think he likes it here. he obviously had no trouble making friends.”

mike glances to the two kids in the living room. “i’m glad abby met henry. she’s always had trouble making friends, but recently she’s doing really well.”

“well, i’m glad henry met her, too. and i’m glad we met,” you add the last part. “all the parents at the kid’s school seem like such suck-ups. even just driving to pick him up i feel judged.”

“i know exactly how you feel,” mike sighs.

you stare at him for a moment, a question entering your mind. your heart races as you open your mouth to speak, hoping he won’t reject the idea.

“would you and abby like to, uh, stay for dinner?”

mike’s eyes widen and he starts stammering. “yeah, uh, sure. if you’d have us. you really don’t have to, though. i already feel like we have imposed.”

“nonsense,” you shake your head. “i’d be happy to prepare something for you. that way henry and abby can hang out more.”

mike slowly nods, a slow smile lighting his features. “yeah, that sounds great!” he sounds a little more enthusiastic than he’d like, but you don’t mind. in fact, you look delighted.

mike ends up helping you make dinner. the kids each their chicken nuggets as their meal, stealing a tiny bit of your food as you two eat.

“this is amazing,” mike says. “i haven’t had a home cooked meal in forever.”

“well, thank you. this is my grandma’s recipe.”

“is there any way i can personally thank you grandma?”

“definitely. she’s be happy to hear someone else likes her cooking.”

“mom, can we watch a movie?” henry asks. “yeah, of course, bud. you don’t need my permission,” you say.

“i mean, can we all watch?”

you glance at mike who has the same shocked and hesitant expression as you.

“sure,” you nod slowly.

abby and henry end up picking “ice age” — which is one of the best dreamworks movies ever. the two kids sit on the floor wrapped up in blankets while you and mike sit on the couch, careful to keep a safe distance.

“have you ever seen this?” mike whispers. “no. i think it’s a new one,” you say.

“it’s… weird,” mike comments. you giggle quietly. “it kind of is.”

mike glances at you and can’t help but admire you. you’ve changed out of your day wear and into some pjs. your makeup is all off and you’re snuggled up under a blanket. he can’t help but think this is the real you in your natural habitat. he can’t help but think how pretty you are.

you notice mike’s gaze in your peripheral. you turn your head to look at him, your eyes scanning his face. one of the first things you noticed about mike the other day was how handsome he is. his hair seems to be just slightly messy all the time. he has a purple hue under his eyes from the bags, but it makes his brown eyes stand out more somehow. his facial hair is light but frames his face well. your eyes trace the shape of his nose, noticing the tiniest bump by the bridge. his jawline is sharp — surprisingly sharp. all of his features are just so perfect.

“thank you for inviting us. it’s very kind of you,” mike says. “for all you know, we could’ve been weird people.”

“I’m pretty weird myself,” you say with a teasing smile. “in all seriousness, i really don’t mind. i just see the way abby interacts with henry and the way you interact with her. i know you both are good people.”

“thank you. i think you’re a good person, too. and henry.”

your eyes travel down to his lips and just for a moment, you imagine what it’s like kissing him. you have to tear your eyes away immediately, knowing he saw that and feeling a little embarrassed. it’s cliché to say, but you haven’t felt this type of way for someone since your divorce. although you and milo weren’t right for each other, you still loved him. you have also been focusing on your career and henry; you couldn’t imagine bringing someone into your life romantically. you’ve always been afraid to bring someone into henry’s life as well. but you can’t shake the feeling like mike is special and whatever you feel for mike is special.

“can i take you out on a date?” mike asks, practically blurting out the words. it’s so fast you barely catch on, but you hear the word date.

“me and you?” you clarify. “yeah,” he nods, shrinking back into the couch. “if you wanted to. i-i’m sorry if it’s weird. i know we just met and —”

“yes,” you say. “really?” he gasps as if he’s never gotten a yes. you can’t imagine that ever being the case, and you smile a little at how cute and humble he seems.

“yep. i’m free next friday,” you say.

“me, too. i can pick you up at 7.”

“sounds good,” you smile. you turn your attention back to the tv, scooting closer to him. “you better not be late,” you whisper.

mike laughs, “i can’t imagine why i would be.”

————

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@celestbarnes