+18/ professionell headcanon creator /I love flowers/I talk alot during movies or in generell watching / reading something / I have a lot of thoughts I want to share i also really love fashion/ history and have alot of interessts
My other Account is this: @erispenelopeandalittleviolet
This is my main Account.
I'm +18
I love cat's.
I yap about anything I want cuz I have free will just like you.
Expect the unexpected and prepare for the unprepared.
I love everthing about women, I love talking about women, unhinged things and everything emotional and raw the most.
I love anime, manga, manhwa's, classic books, spirituality, old books, novels, history, philosophy, poems, antiques, hair, new hair styles, dresses, nail polish, hair and skin care, perfum, all typs of music, nature, animals, good food and more.
If you have information abt these feel free to tell me.
I have a lot of headcanons that I discusse with friends about characters I really like.
Like i said I love reading, however I struggle reading everything till the end and Sometimes skip a lot of pages only to realise that that was stupid, since i wanna know everything about the plot.
I don't have a lot of friends but I love to make friends (I don't know how to make friends) and I love my friends.
English is a languege I do not speak in my Private live often so don't be too harsh on me when I make too many mistakes.
ੈ✩‧₊˚ not even sex can stop him from being a huge nerd
your laptop sat open on the desk, half-forgotten as your fingers trembled over the keyboard. the assignment deadline loomed, but it was really hard to focus when your boyfriend was buried between your thighs, lapping at you with slow, deliberate strokes.
kuroo had been at it for at least twenty minutes, taking his sweet time, letting the occasional deep groan vibrate against your pussy just to watch you squirm. he was always like this—half a menace, half a worshipper—dragging you right to the edge only to pull back and start over. it was infuriating.
you bit your lip, trying to stay somewhat composed, your hips shifting toward his mouth as he sucked your clit between his lips and rolled his tongue against it in that obscene way that made your toes curl. you barely managed to type another sentence before a sharp whimper escaped your throat, and he chuckled—smug bastard.
“mm, getting close?” his voice was muffled, lips brushing against your slick folds.
“y-yeah, so stop—”
but of course, he didn’t stop. he paused. and that was somehow so much worse.
instead of diving back in like a decent boyfriend, he lifted his head slightly, fingers idly tracing patterns against the inside of your thigh. “you know, i read this study the other day about how the female orgasm actually lasts three times longer than the male’s,” he mused, voice far too casual for someone who had his face drenched in your juices. “it has something to do with the way the pelvic muscles contract—”
“tetsu, i swear to fucking god—”
“no, but listen—” he pressed a quick kiss to your clit, as if that would make up for his absolute nonsense. “the average male orgasm lasts about six seconds, right? but for women, it’s closer to twenty. and some women can even have multiple in succession. isn’t that fascinating?”
your entire body twitched with frustration. “tetsurou.”
“what?” he asked, blinking up at you with faux innocence, lips glistening with proof of just how not innocent he was.
“either put that mouth to better use or—”
you barely had a second to brace yourself before he groaned—that deep, gravelly sound that sent heat curling in your belly—and devoured you like he had something to prove. his tongue flicked against your clit, fast and relentless, two fingers pressing inside you with that perfect curl, stroking the exact spot that made your back arch clean off the chair.
you barely had time to suck in a breath before pleasure slammed into you, your entire body trembling as you came with a broken, desperate moan. and he didn’t stop.
“mmh, see?” he mumbled against you, his words vibrating through your overstimulated nerves. “multiple in succession. science is so fucking cool.”
This remindes me of the reddit post of the girl who made out with her bf just to stop mid way and explain to him something about body heat and he found it cute.
the kids tease you by calling enjin and you mom & dad.
The first time it happened you almost hurled your jinki across the, now empty, battlefield.
Riyo stood in front of you and Enjin with her arms behind her back. Girl was covered in dirt and fresh scrapes after nearly getting herself crushed during a cleanup mission. You were pissed. And concerned.
“You can’t just rush ahead because you think you saw movement,” you snapped. “What if that thing had gotten you?”
“And if you get hurt,” Enjin added with a sharp glare, “You slow the entire team down.”
Riyo nodded dramatically the entire time, eyes wide with fake sincerity. You wanted to shake her, because you’d be heartbroken if something serious happened to her. Until she opened her mouth tho.
“Yeah, yeah,” she sighed once the lecture ended. “I get it. I’ll keep it in mind, mom and dad.”
You both stared at her. Then stared at each other - a silent dialogue followed. Like you had the gesture conversations with the others, Enjin and you communicated differently.
‘did she really just said that?’ his eyes said.
‘yes. Oh my god.’
‘huh. Odd. But kinda funny.’
‘Enjin!’
‘okay, okay. Not funny.’
All while Riyo grinned watching the two of you. Enjin then turned away to let out a traitorous chuckle and you groaned.
Should’ve been the end of it, right? A funny one time joke. Unfortunately team akuta and their supporters was full of the worst people alive.
Because two days later you walked into the headquarters, carrying supplies as you hear Follo yell from across the hallway.
“Mom said we’re meeting at six, dumbass.”
You stopped dead in the tracks. “Excuse me?”
Zanka immediately pointed at Follo accusingly. “I told him not to call you that.”
“You kind of encouraged him,” Semiu said flatly as she walked by.
Riyo was wheezing in the corner while your eye twitched dangerously. “None of you are funny.”
“Mom’s scary today,” Rudo whispered.
Enjin walked in at the perfect moment (later you’re convinced he waited around the corner, because no one walked in at a more perfect time). “Dad’s here. Everyone behave.”
The entire room burst into laughter. You wanted to die. You wanted to beat up Enjin who looked way too amused for someone who apparently didn’t find it funny.
“You’re enjoying this,” you accused.
“No idea what you mean,” he said, failing miserably to hide his grin.
Is anyone surprised that things only got worse, because Enjin started participating? No? Yeah. Exactly.
One afternoon Semiu sat behind her desk and lazily looked through a magazine while Enjin shuffled by. Then again. He huffed and puffed, all cow-eyed and pouting.
“Are you looking for your wife?” Semiu asked without looking up.
“My wife,” Enjin said loudly. “Took the day off.”
His voice sounded a tiny bit betrayed. How dare you to take the day off when it wasn’t his day off?
“Good for her,” Semiu replied.
“Yeah. My wife deserves that,” Enjin nodded.
Later Semiu told you about this conversation and you almost chuckled. Almost.
However. Bro Santa surprisingly suffered the most from it - mostly because he kept accidentally feeding into the joke.
But for starters. You were helping team child with some equipment. Also because you wanted to hang out with Dear Santa since you became similar to a motherly figure in his life.
It was a fun afternoon… until Enjin walked in. Took in the scene. Decided to open his loud mouth.
“Wow,” he sighed dramatically. “Couldn’t you at least wait until the divorce?”
Bro choked. “Divorce?!”
Team child looked between the two of you in horror.
“What’s wrong with you?” you asked in disbelief.
“You left me for the kids,” he said solemnly and then gestured towards bro. “And… Bro.”
“You’re insufferable.”
“And yet you stay.”
Bro looked genuinely stressed now. “Enjin, I never touched your wife, I swear. She’s just a good friend.”
“Hello?!”
“I know,” Enjin said all serious at the same time.
You kicked him in the shin and swore you still heard him cackle when you were back in your room. And, now all alone, you let out the tiniest amused snort. But it wasn’t funny, okay?
And if we already spill the truth a little here then we need to be completely honest. The dynamic actually fit.
You handled planning, schedules, injuries, and stopping everyone from killing themselves. Enjin handled morale, chaos control, and intimidation.
And together somehow you functioned exactly like exhausted parents managing a group of violent disaster children. And the team knew it.
“Mom, Rudo stole my chocolate bar.”
“Dad, Riyo threatened to shave off my eyebrows… again.”
“Can Mom stop glaring at me like that?”
“Dad said no, so I’m asking Mo.”
“… I never ask Mom anything again.”
Until then it wasn’t that bad. Or at least you thought it couldn’t get worse until you went on a mission together. Because if Enjin could do one thing then it was getting real loud when he was impressed.
A trash beasts twice your size charged towards your team. The force was enough to crack concrete and have the ground shaking. Before anyone else could React you slid underneath. Your jinki activated you drove it straight upward and took it down in one hit. The entire battlefield went silent for half a second.
“That’s my wife!”
Your horrified scream echoed immediately after. “Stop calling me that!”
Riyo nearly fell off her scissor laughing. Enjin shuffled closer, grinning proudly as he helped you up.
Meanwhile Gris looked emotional. “They’re so in love.”
“We are not—”
Enjin showed you off proudly. “Did you see that move?”
“Oh my god.”
He looked genuinely delighted which honestly made it worse. While the whole nickname saga was a joke - at least you thought so - Enjin’s pride about your growth and strength was honest.
And then it happened. You weren’t ready. It was the cherry on top. Corvus, the big boss, decided to join in.
That was the moment you realized there was no escape.
You sat in headquarters one evening with your head resting against the table, exhausted after a fourteen hour mission. Corvus approached you as calmly as ever.
“Have you seen Enjin?” he asked.
Hope blossomed in your chest as you looked up. When was the last time you’ve heard Enjin’s name? And not dad or husband?
Then he casually added, “Your better half, I mean.”
Slowly you closed your eyes. A migraine threatened to grow and take you out right here, right now.
“Please,” you whispered. “Not you too.”
Corvus actually smiled. And because Enjin had the perfect timing injected in his veins he had just walked by, listened and now laughed loudly.
Your head snapped around and yeah, Enjin was smug as hell. But beyond it he genuinely looked happy and proud.
Sighing you hid a smile behind your hand. “Come over. After the mission we deserve a drink… husband.”
Enjin stopped dead in the tracks. Also Corvus looked surprised before he gave you two some space.
“You did just—fuck,” he chuckled and sat down beside you.
Ha! Finally it was you taking the upper hand. At least until he reached into his pocket and pulled something shiny out that left you speechless.
please notice tetsurō before he juggles kenma and fukunaga for attention.
wc: 1.8k
kuroo tetsurō had spent approximately four business days drafting the letter, destroying enough notebook pages to clear out half the amazon rainforest just to ensure his handwriting didn’t look like a chicken had dipped its feet in ink and had a seizure across the page.
the letter was, without a single ounce of exaggeration, a masterclass in classical romance. it was the kind of prose that would make sixteenth-century poets throw their quills into a well and give up. he’d written about the way your laughter sounded like the exact resonant frequency needed to shatter his ribs from the inside out. he’d compared your eyes to the stable nucleus of an atom—the only thing holding his chaotic, electron-cloud of a brain together. it was poetic. it was devastatingly tender. it was enough to make a grown volleyball captain weep into his knee pads.
and, with the tactical precision of a stealth bomber, he had slipped it directly into chapter four of your organic chemistry textbook during study period while you were distracted trying to untangle your wired headphones.
he’d gone home that night, buried his face into his pillow, and kicked his legs like a victorian maiden who had just been perceived by a duke. he fully expected a text by 8:00 pm. a tearful confession by 8:30 pm. perhaps a marriage proposal by next tuesday.
instead, you showed up to school the next morning, aggressively yawning, and used that exact textbook as a makeshift shield against the morning sun while sitting on the brick wall outside the gym.
kuroo watched you from five feet away, his soul slowly evaporating from his body like rubbing alcohol left out in the sun. you didn’t even open the book. you just used the heavy-weight cover to fan yourself when the humidity hit. the actual love of his life was using his bleeding-heart declaration of eternal devotion to circulate lukewarm morning air onto her collarbones.
“you look like you’re tracking a gazelle,” kenma murmured from beside him, eyes glued to a handheld screen. “and not in a cool, predator way. more like a very sad, hungry dog.”
“she didn’t read it,” kuroo whispered, his voice cracking like a dry twig. “kenma. the paper density alone should have changed the gravitational pull of the textbook. how did she not feel the shift in equilibrium?”
“maybe she just hates chemistry.”
“impossible,” kuroo hissed, clutching his chest. “i’m chemistry.”
phase two required a complete lack of subtlety. if you wouldn’t stumble upon his heart by accident, he would simply have to leave breadcrumbs.
the next afternoon, you opened your locker to find a small, neon-pink post-it note stuck directly onto the metal grated vents. written in shaky, black sharpie was a clue that looked less like a romantic hint and more like a ransom note from a criminal who specialized in stem subjects:
‘the elements of life are carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, and oxygen. but the element of my life is currently trapped on page 142. look closer, or i will literally spontaneously combust on the cafeteria floor.’
you blinked at the sticky note. you reached out, peeled it off, and stared at it for a solid three minutes. kuroo, who was hiding behind the corner of the hallway with his face pressed so hard against the brickwork that his nose was flattened, held his breath. this was it. the catalyst. the moment you would pull out the textbook, flip to page 142, and realize that he was completely, utterly, and devastatingly yours.
instead, you let out a soft snort, muttered, “yaku must have lost a bet to standard level science,” and stuck the pink note onto the front of your binder because you liked the shade of neon.
from behind the wall, kuroo felt his knees give way. he slid down the bricks until he was sitting flat on the linoleum, a hand dramatically draped over his eyes. his heart was performing a full, aggressive drum solo against his sternum, furious at the rejection it hadn’t even technically received yet.
by day three, the desperation had reached a critical mass. kuroo tetsurō was a man possessed by a singular, burning directive: make the prettiest girl in the third-year corridor realize that he wanted to hold her hand until their joints turned to dust. he couldn’t function. he missed three consecutive serves in practice because he kept visualizing the exact layout of page 142 and wondering if he should have used a highlighter.
“if you don’t fix whatever is rotting your brain, i’m going to set your shoes on fire,” yaku warned during evening clean-up, leaning heavily on a broom. “you’ve been staring at that volleyball like it owes you alimony.”
“it’s an intellectual standoff,” kuroo said, his voice hollow as he rolled a ball between his palms. “a battle of wits. she’s testing my resolve, yaku. she’s checking to see if my devotion can withstand the vacuum of her absolute oblivion.”
“she doesn’t know you left a note, does she?” kenma called out from the bench, not looking up.
kuroo threw himself backward onto the polished gym floor, starfish-ing beneath the bright fluorescent lights. “i made it so obvious! i used neon! i referenced atomic structures! what else does she want from me? a billboard? a sky-writer? should i tattoo the chemical equation for dopamine onto my forehead?”
the next morning, he forfeited all remaining scraps of his dignity. if poetry wouldn’t work, and clues wouldn’t work, then raw, unadulterated public exposure would have to suffice.
you walked down the science wing at 7:50 am, holding a half-eaten convenience store bun, only to find a small crowd of second-years hovering around your locker. they were whispering, giggling behind their hands, and pointing at the metal door.
as you approached, the crowd parted like the red sea, revealing the monstrosity kuroo had unleashed upon the school infrastructure.
there, stuck entirely to the center of your locker with roughly four entire rolls of heavy-duty, industrial neon green painter’s tape, was the original, beautiful, cream-colored love letter. it was trapped beneath a lattice of green adhesive so thick it looked like it could withstand a category five hurricane. and slapped right on top of the whole mess was a giant piece of cardboard ripped from an old volleyball equipment box, featuring a frantic, jagged scrawl:
“please for the love of god notice my affection. page 142 was an innervation of my entire soul. i’m begging you to interact with this literature.”
you stood frozen, your bun halfway to your mouth.
from the far end of the hall, leaning against a drinking fountain with his arms crossed in a position he clearly thought looked casual but actually made him look like he was suffering from severe muscle spasms, was kuroo. his signature bedhead seemed even more chaotic than usual, a few strands sticking straight up like frantic antennae. his face was completely flushed, a deep, dark crimson that started at the tips of his ears and pooled all the way down into the collar of his school uniform.
you looked from the neon green monstrosity on your locker, to the heavy-grade paper trapped underneath, and then finally down the hall at him.
the silence stretched. a second-year student cleared their throat nervously.
slowly, you walked over to the locker. instead of tearing the cardboard off, you carefully slipped your fingers under the edge of the painter’s tape, working at the thick adhesive until you managed to pull the cream-colored letter out from its bright green cage. it was a bit crinkled at the borders, but the elegant, sweeping ink was fully intact.
you flipped to the back, your eyes scanning the dense, beautiful paragraphs where he had written about how your presence made his brain short-circuit like a faulty capacitor. you read the lines where he confessed, with terrifying honesty, that he spent his biology lectures drawing the exact curve of your shoulder blades in the margins of his notebook.
your chest did something strange—a sudden, warm domain expansion that felt remarkably like a small firework detonating right behind your ribs. your face grew hot, the heat spreading rapidly across your cheeks as the sheer weight of his ridiculous, beautiful, overwhelming feelings hit you full-force.
you folded the paper carefully, tucked it into your blazer pocket, and began marching down the hallway straight toward him.
kuroo’s eyes widened. the cool, leaning posture evaporated instantly. he straightened up so fast his spine made an audible clicking sound, his hands dropping to his sides like a soldier caught off guard. “uh. hey. so. the tape is entirely bio-degradable, if you were worried about the school property damage—”
you stopped right in front of him, reached out, and grabbed the lapels of his uniform jacket, tugging him downward so he was forced to bend his absurdly tall frame until his face was level with yours.
“you absolute menace,” you breathed, your voice a mix of a breathless laugh and total disbelief. “you could have just told me you liked me during lunch. you didn’t need to sacrifice a perfectly good moving box.”
kuroo stared at you, his eyes auditing your lips and then back up to your eyes, his brain completely liquefying under the proximity. up close, you could see the tiny, frantic flutter of the pulse point in his throat.
“but the prose,” he squeaked out, his voice a full octave higher than normal before he cleared his throat and tried to recover his usual low drawl. “the prose was exquisite. i compared you to a stable isotope. that’s high praise coming from a guy who fails literature.”
“it was incredibly dramatic,” you agreed, your thumbs brushing against the fabric of his blazer. “and it’s the most beautiful thing i’ve ever read. even if it was buried under three pounds of adhesive.”
kuroo’s expression softened, the frantic, manic energy draining out of him all at once, replaced by something so profoundly tender and vulnerable it made your stomach do a backflip. he reached up, his large, warm hand covering yours where you held his lapels, his thumb gently smoothing over your knuckles.
“so,” he whispered, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through his nerves, making his eyes crinkle at the corners. “does this mean the experiment was a success? are we experiencing a mutual reaction?”
“we are,” you said, letting go of his jacket only to slide your fingers into his, locking your hand with his large, calloused one. “but you’re still helping me scrape that green tape off my locker before the vice principal sees it.”
kuroo let out a loud, booming laugh that echoed down the corridor, squeezing your hand so tightly it felt like he never intended to let go, his chest swelling with enough joy to lift a house off its foundations.
n: my beloved @ryomenlettuce asked for this, huehuehue.. it’s from my scrapped ideas
I feel like there is much to be said about the contrasts between August and Goka as older brothers.
Goka, even though he clearly cares about Zanka in his own weird way, is jealous and bitter. He resents Zanka and despises his use of a vital instrument. He degrades and belittles his baby brother for being a giver. He thinks it makes him lesser, that it hinders him and makes him weak.
August on the other hand is loud and open in his love and support for his baby sister. He knows that she is capable of great things despite her anxiety and past bad experiences telling her otherwise. He thinks her use of vital instrument is something amazing that lets her do these great things, and he'll fight anyone who says otherwise or gets in her way. He'd do anything to help her succeed.
In a way, August is exactly the kind of older brother that Kyoka was telling Goka to be; someone who stokes the flames of brilliance in the younger generation.
Gachiakuta men when their partner has stretch marks lol we've all got 'em 🫡
Gachiakuta Men: when you have stretch marks <3
A/n: Not everyone with stretch marks has them because they’re overweight, chubby, or fat, but that’s why I do so 😛 I’m writing it in that way thank yew I hope you like it
ENJIN
he notices them right away and he finds them crazy sexy. He’s spent many nights wrapping himself around your arms and legs squeezing the areas. He loves how your body feels in his hands and he loves caressing your stretch marks so much. He wants to bite them and kiss them and lick them. He thinks they’re so beautiful.
GRIS
now Gris… he likes em a little bigger. He’s one of those guys that sets his lifting goals higher if he’s dating a bigger person. It’s his mission to carry you no matter the size and trust, he does. He compares your stretch marks to fine wine. Some stripes on the body give you a little extra flavor and he wants to taste.
TAMSY
compares you to art pieces and how beautiful that is. If you complained or brought yourself down for them he’d painstakingly find every single one and tell you why each is beautiful and why he loves it.
FOLLO
He would tread lightly knowing some people are insecure or sensitive about the topic. Truly though, some of them really get him going. He likes any on your chest, your thighs, your stomach. He wants to give them love, especially when things get intimate, but he’s scared of upsetting you.
CORVUS
he never misses a chance to tell you how beautiful or handsome he thinks you are with them. He won’t care if you tell him to stop or if you get flustered. He’ll keep going to tell you just how “delicious” you look and ask you to show them off more.
BRO SANTA
It would hurt his sweet soul if you said anything bad about yourself. He’d spend days finding different ways to convince you not to think that way. He’d find you attractive no matter what and I’m sure he has some of his own since he’s such a big guy. He’d wanna compare. He wants to kiss every single one of them and tell you with each kiss how wonderful you are.
ZODYL
I fear he would get very angry if you said anything bad about them. He’d give you a speech about how it’s natural and normal and how most people have it so to be so harsh on yourself it’s utterly stupid. And while I don’t think he’s a hater of any body type, he’s also just very biased to you because he finds everything about you yummy. He likes to kiss them. He’s quietly intimate.
AUGUST
calls them “artistic” and wants to have you model for him while showing them off. He likes taking pictures of them and having them for “safe keeping” and “artistic inspiration” he wants to lick them I’m sorry he’s just freaky like that. Says they “have a taste”
you like admiring enjin's hands. unfortunately for you, he notices.
✧ feat : enjin (gachiakuta) x fem!reader (1.2k words)
✧ warning(s) : public, fingers in mouth, smoking, implied head (m!receiving), pet names (pretty girl, pretty, good girl)
this is an nsfw fic. minors + ageless blogs dni.
✧ a/n : wrote this inspired by an experience i had staring at my friend's hands LMFAO. it's been so long since my last post, i hope yall missed me! <3
masterlist.
the problem with enjin is that he always pays attention to things you wish he wouldn't.
“what did you say?” you blink slowly at him, like that'll somehow improve your listening skills and change what you know you heard the first time.
“i said, you stare at my hands a lot.” the blonde has the audacity to look smug as he says it, like he's the smartest and coolest man ever just for being perceptive enough to notice.
“i do not.” the retort slips past your lips far more defensively than you'd like as you fold your arms across your chest.
that's a lie, because you definitely do admire enjin's hands. only sometimes, though! you wouldn't go as far as to call it ‘a lot’, that's just enjin's ego talking. you swear it's not your fault; he often talks with his hands, always waving them around or gesturing dangerously near your face. it's a miracle you haven't opened your mouth to suck on one of his fingers yet – you're still fighting the urge every time he stands closer than he should.
can anyone really blame you? enjin may not get scouted to be a hand model anytime soon, but that doesn't mean his hands aren't attractive as fuck. his fingers are long but not too slender, veiny from the hours he spends working out, and the dark tattoos ringing each finger topped with chipped black nail polish make your head spin. his hands are usually calloused from training and you almost choke on your saliva when you dare to consider how those rough fingers would feel inside you.
“hey, are you listening to me?” enjin waves his hand in your face and you snap out of your reverie, pressing your thighs together a little more to ease the ache in your core.
“not really.” you roll your eyes, trying to maintain your nonchalant facade. “you aren't that interesting.” mentally, you're praying to every deity in existence that you weren't drooling and staring at him the entire time you were daydreaming. you swear you're innocent, it's just that your gaze is naturally magnetised to the sight of enjin's hands! maybe it's a side effect of his jinki? or maybe you're just delusional, and maybe you need to admit for once and for all that you want your coworker to fuck you.
“you're being mean, which means it's time to go for a smoke.” enjin claps you on the shoulder, pulling you out of your seat and dragging you outside before you can argue. it's already past midnight, the streets are empty and there are barely any shops still open aside from the bar the two of you just left.
“didn't realise it'd be this dark so early in the year.” you kick a tin can around as enjin pulls out his cigarettes and a lighter, doing your best to not ogle him lest you get caught again.
“yeah, i can barely see shit.” he exhales a sigh and rests his head against the wall you're leaning on. hearing a soft click, you can't help but look up, only to see enjin lighting his cigarette and putting it in his mouth. it's a normal sight, but the more primitive part of your brain is unable to stop thinking about the way the cigarette looks so small in his hands, the gentleness with which he holds it despite possessing the strength to crush it in a millisecond. and instead of ending there, your mind plays a highlight reel of all the moments you’ve filed away mentally of enjin's hands – flexing on the steering wheel, white-knuckled gripping his jinki, much larger than zanka's as he teaches the younger man a new move… yeah, you're definitely way too horny for this shit.
“here.” you barely register enjin passing you his cig as he exhales a cloud of smoke. the two of you have shared cigarettes countless times, it shouldn't be anything special. but there's something about this moment, the two of you enveloped in darkness save for the glowing end of the cigarette, just the two of you alone together while you fantasise about how this is practically an indirect kiss.
and instead of reaching out your hand to take it like a normal person, like you should, you open your mouth on autopilot before you can stop yourself instead. and instead of calling you a freak like he rightfully should, enjin's eyes darken and he slips the cigarette between your lips.
“you're so cute, you know that?” his voice cuts through the quiet like a knife, and it's so abrupt you wonder for a second if you hallucinated it. then the nicotine hits your bloodstream and there's a rush of euphoria, only amplified by the sensation of the man opposite you suddenly reaching out to grip your chin.
“e-enjin?! what are you-”
“shh…” enjin's golden eyes gleam with lust as he looks down at you, taking in the way your gaze darts everywhere except his face like a frightened rabbit. “you've been waiting for this, haven’t you? dreaming about it too, i bet.”
“i don't know what you're-”
he plucks the cigarette from your mouth with his free hand, using the other to gently stroke your bottom lip with his thumb. “open up, sweetheart.”
and as embarrassing as it is to admit it, your jaw immediately drops open like an obedient puppy. something about the way enjin's cooing to you in this condescending tone and giving you humiliating instructions you know you shouldn't follow is making a delicious warmth pool in your core, and you can already feel yourself slipping into the headspace where all you want to do is give in and listen to everything he says.
“attagirl.” he smirks, and the sound is like a jolt of electricity right up your spine. you can almost feel your knees buckle at the pet name. before you can even blink, enjin's slipping his thumb past your lips and into your mouth while his other fingers press into your jawbone, holding you in place. you know you wouldn't run even if you could.
“mmff-!” you gag around his finger just a little, startled by the intrusion at first. but then your inhibitions melt away and you start sucking on it like candy, your eyes slipping into a heavy half-lidded gaze as you meet his eyes shamelessly.
“there we go…” enjin's voice is even deeper than usual, a lazy drawl to his tone laced with a hint of excitement. “keep looking at me like that, pretty girl.” his finger probes even deeper and you whimper, tears beading along your lashline.
“you can take it.” he murmurs, his towering figure moving impossibly closer so you have to tilt your head up further to maintain eye contact. “you're making me so hard, you know that? gonna take care of me later?” to the best of your ability you nod frantically, which pulls a chuckle from him as he strokes your head with his other hand. “good girl. my good girl.”
you moan around his finger at that and he tightens his grip in your hair as you sink to your knees in front of him, hands fumbling blindly for his zipper. enjin just laughs, caressing your cheek with his other fingers. “so eager, pretty… seems like you got a knack for taking things in your mouth, yeah? so let's see how good that throat of yours feels.”
every time i'm ovulating enjin crawls into my brain, i black out and when i wake up i have a new freak draft of him (im in denial abt liking him) . moving on! as i said it's been a long time & i'm sorry for going MIA, i lowk moved to japan 😭 anyways ily all mwah hope we get s2 SOON i need more zanka content
