deny me, claim me ; ENJIN
➴ summary: late summer nights and broken promises make you reach out to enjin for a quick fix. you're tired of running: turns out so is he.
➴ pairing: plug!Enjin x fem!reader
➴ warnings: drugs (weed, lol), sex, slapping, spitting, degradation (soft), unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink, heavy language.
➴ author note: this is a modern!au of gachiakuta. if you guys haven't watched the anime, i truly recommend it. this was supposed to be a soft, fluffy story, ended up being a fuck your depression away (don't recommend that, trust me).
You looked at the time, fingers hovering over the screen.
The emptiness of the room became larger with every passing second, and the stillness of the outside world made way into your heart to add a weight that shouldn’t be there.
You couldn’t hear much aside from a passing cricket and the soft, mechanical whirring of the AC cooling your bedroom.
You didn’t feel cold, though.
Not the tiredness that came from lack of sleep or an exciting evening, no, the kind in which the bed was no longer a bed but a shrine, and you the forgotten spirit that lies in it hoping for a small change that would bring you back to life.
Sighing, you got up from the bed and made your way outside the bedroom and into the living room, where the couch looked uncomfortable and uninviting.
You sat down, phone in hand once again, message app open.
His answer came quicker than expected.
Enjin: told ya i ain’t selling you no more.
You smiled, small and brittle. He’d said that before, true. Every time. He still showed up.
You: u always say that…
Enjin: u should start listening.
You could almost hear his voice, that bored pitch with a rough undertone. It slipped into your mind easier than the drugs ever did.
You: i can’t sleep, jin.
Enjin: not my problem.
You couldn’t answer. He beat you to it.
You heard the rumble of the engine before you saw the lights illuminate the empty street.
The clock read 1:51 am when he stopped in front of your house. You stood on the doorway, arms crossed, wearing an old and beaten t-shirt and the kind of expression that said you had been waiting there even when you didn’t–shouldn’t– want to.
Enjin just sat in the car for a second, tattooed hands gripping the wheel as he looked at you. The shadows covered his eyes, but you didn’t need light to know he was watching because you could feel it. The way his golden eyes were fixated on the bags under your eyes.
His gaze always made you feel seen and cornered at the same time.
He killed the engine, silence taking over the street again after he exited the car and closed the door with a heavy thump. He walked up the small path to the front door, jaw tight and unlit cigarette dangling from his lips.
“You shouldn’t be calling this late.”
You shrugged. “You shouldn’t answer.”
He gave a smirk– soft, the kind that didn’t reach his eyes. “Touché.”
Enjin pulled a lighter from his pocket, lit the cigarette, then his hand returned to his pocket and when it came out again, he held a small bag of weed and handed it to you.
You didn’t take it right away, as you would’ve done in the past, when whatever this was was still fresh and felt dangerous but not soul consuming. Instead, your fingers brushed his and you could almost feel the way he tensed under your touch.
“You keep saying you’re done selling to me,” you said quietly. “Yet here you are.”
Enjin looked at you for a long moment, sharp eyes softening for a fleeting second.
He flicked his cigarette. “Guess I’m a liar, pretty girl.”
You chuckled, looking at the ground.
Truth be told, you should’ve handed him the cash, turned around and closed the door. Tell yourself this was another late-night trade. You didn’t move.
He took a long drag, the smoke curling around his mouth as he exhaled. The light from your doorway caught the edges of his grin before it softened again.
“You look tired,” he whispered.
You huffed, not looking at him. “Didn’t call for small talk, Enjin.”
“Still,” he said, exhaling slowly. Smoke lingering above the both of you. “You look worse every time.”
You looked at him then, huffing in offense. And you wanted to scream at him, to push him, to tell him it was all his fault. You didn’t. Whatever words were at the tip of your tongue died as soon as your eyes locked into his.
His gaze wasn’t soft, it was sharp– and yet the way he looked at you made the world blur around you: always a little too long, a little too knowing.
“Truly know how to charm a girl, huh?”
Enjin took a step closer, towering over you. His voice was soft. “I think we’re past that.”
“I just want the weed, Enjin,” you said, but it came out quieter than you had hoped. “You can stop pretending to care.”
His voice betrayed him. It was low and rough and far too quick, the kind that came when he tried too hard to appear detached and nonchalant. It wasn’t the first time you’d heard it.
You smiled, looking at the ground. “You’re a terrible liar.”
He took another step, his hand brushing yours. His lips came down to your ear. “So are you.”
Something shifted, the air felt heavier, the humidity of the summer night clung to your skin.
You should’ve taken the bag and bid him goodnight, truly should’ve had. You couldn’t.
Instead, when you turned around and went into your home you left the door open.
The door shut with a soft click as you sat down on the couch again, pulling the weed from the bag and grabbing the pack of cigarettes and the paper from the table. As you rolled the blunt, Enjin sat down on the further end of the couch, legs open.
You noticed he had discarded his boots and his coat, and that he didn’t have that umbrella he liked to take with him. He looked serene as his gaze locked on the ceiling.
You lit the blunt, taking a long drag that did nothing to alleviate the aching pain of your heart, nor the slight shaking of your fingers as you handed him the blunt.
He took it in silence. Every word the two of you could’ve shared were wasted outside. The smoke filled the air around you, offering some peace.
As the two of you passed the blunt back and forth, the space between you seemed to shrink. Enjin’s knee touched yours, his hand lingering dangerously close to your thigh, and when you turned your head to look at him, you found him looking at you already– faces barely apart.
For a second, both of you held your breaths, smoke lingering around your lips and his, an otherworldly veil that didn’t hide the way his eyes flicked down to your lips.
His hand came up to cup your jaw, fingers–rough from years of fighting–, caressed the corner of your mouth trying to wipe off a smile that wasn’t there.
“Ain’t selling you no more,” he murmured, voice low and vibrating against your skin.
You sucked in a breath. “Liar.”
His lips came crashing down against yours, teeth pulling at your bottom lip trying to bury the softness he wanted to shower you with. His hands cradled your face like he wanted to make sure you were real, his fingers burying themselves in your hair like you’d disappear if he didn’t hold you tight enough.
Your hands moved to his chest, grabbing his shirt and bringing him closer.
You sighed into the kiss, your tongue tasted smoke and mint and something bitter you couldn't quite name. It was messy, too rough, too desperate, the kind of kiss that hurt instead of soothing, that said everything he couldn’t bring himself to.
When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours. Breath laboured, eyes closed, lips parted like saying your name would ruin him and he was close, oh so close, to let himself be ruined.
“Don’t want ya to call again,” he lied.
You lied back. “I won’t.”
And his lips were on yours again. His hands moved from your face to the back of your thighs, lifting you with ease as he moved you to straddle him. You rested comfortably on top of him, your hands once again moving to his chest, then his neck, his hair. Your fingers brushed over the scar on his fade, earning you a soft gasp from him.
Enjin’s hands grabbed your ass, fingers applying pressure in a way that would leave marks.
He always liked to mark you.
As proof, maybe, that he’d never truly stop coming.
And you let him, because you needed him to come.
The blunt was left forgotten in the ashtray.
Enjin got up from the couch, strong arms wrapped around your waist to keep you in place. You wrapped your legs around his waist, tightening the grip, not letting go. He made his way into your bedroom like he had memorised it. He probably did.
He lay you on the mattress, hovering over you. A tattooed forearm took its place besides your head as his lips kissed and bit away at your neck while soft gasps and moans left your lips.
Your house wasn’t all that he had memorised– he also knew by heart that biting your pulse point made your legs tremble, and he did just that. That caressing your ribcage with the tip of his fingers made you arch your back into him, and he did just that.
His fingers went under the waistband of your shorts, pulling them down and throwing them by the end of the bed.
He settled between your legs, kissing all the way up from your ankle to your jawline, then let his lips brush against yours. Slower this time, not hungry or desperate, just lingering.
You felt him breath you in, in the way his chest rose and fell against yours in sync.
Enjin pressed his forehead against yours, eyes closed as if the sight of you under him burnt him. In a way it did, you guessed.
“Y’know you’re trouble, huh?” He said between kisses that didn’t last enough.
He laughed, soft and broken. “Shouldn’t have picked up that phone.”
“Cause it’s you calling,” he whispered, pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth. “And I keep coming back every fuckin’ time.”
You kissed him, soft and longing, your hand sliding up his neck, nails against skin making him shudder against your touch.
He kissed you again, rough and angry. “‘Cause I like to ruin ya,” his hand gripped your waist as he pressed you against him. “Makes me forget I’m fucked up.”
You froze against him. Your hand rested on his hair.
Then you pulled him closer, because what was left to do?
You felt him press himself against you, the bulge in his pants right against your bare cunt.
Your mouth found his again and you begged against it: “Then ruin me.”
Whatever control he had been keeping, he lost it at that moment.
Enjin leaned back, taking his shirt off. Your hands fumbled against his belt buckle, earning a desperate whine from you and a low chuckle from him. He took your hands in his and undid the belt himself, pushing his trousers all the day down and taking them off.
Then, he took your t-shirt, licking his lips as he eyed you under him. Naked and desperate.
He kissed you again and it was rough, as it always was when this situation arose.
Enjin was a simple man when it came to feelings: he preferred not to have them. So he buried them. Buried them under aggressiveness and desperation.
It drove him mad. Perhaps that’s why he always answered when you called even if he knew he was driving you closer to madness every time he fucked you stupid and then left before you even fell asleep.
His hands were everywhere, manicured nails leaving red trails behind as he scratched your thighs and stomach. You moaned against his ear, your own nails scratching his back. He once more found your pulse point and bit down, kissing his way down your body until his lips closed around your nipple. He sucked, bit and lapped at it, one hand steadying himself above you while the other travelled further down to your cunt.
Enjin groaned when his fingers pressed against your crying cunt, two fingers opening your labia. His thumb hovered above your clit, his touch ghostly against it.
“Don’t fuckin’ tease me,” you gasped out.
He chuckled. “I want you desperate,” he pressed his thumb, “I want you begging,” he made soft circles on it, “I want you fuckin’ dripping when I fuck you.” He picked up the pace, now adding enough pressure for you to feel his touch.
You moaned and tried to buck your hips against his hand. Enjin slapped your pussy, leaning back until he sat before you. One hand gripping your hip to keep you in place, the other thrusting two fingers inside you as his thumb returned to your clit.
“Enjin,” you whined, clawing at his biceps to bring him closer.
He kept fingering you, watching amazed as your wet cunt swallowed his fingers and clenched around them while it begged for something else, something larger, something thicker.
He groaned, picking up the pace. He felt you clenching around him harder, so close to your orgasm that your back arched into the air while you grabbed the sheets underneath you. Your legs began to tremble, familiar fire coiling inside you and you gasped, moaning through laboured breaths.
You were so close, almost there, just a second longer.
But he removed his hand entirely, ignoring the way you cried his name out although it made his cock twitch against his stomach. Actual tears prickling at your waterline as you looked up at him with an open mouth.
Enjin tickled your lips with the same fingers he had used on you.
“Open up, pretty girl.” You obeyed, sucking on his fingers and tasting yourself.
Your hand grabbed his wrist, sucking more viciously as your other grabbed his cock.
He didn't push you away, just buckled his hips into your fist and let out a low moan.
God, you loved how vocal he was.
He took his fingers out, kissing you again in similar fashion. His tongue exploring every inch of your mouth as he kept slowly fucking your fist.
“You're desperate,” he stated. Not asked, stated, both because it was obvious and because he liked to be an asshole when he had you like this.
“Didn't I say I also wanted you begging?”
A deep blush crept up on your cheeks, but you begged nonetheless. Anything he wanted, there was nothing you wouldn't give him. “Please, Enjin, lemme cum. I need to cum.”
“Where, hm?” He closed his hand around your throat, applying enough pressure to make your cunt clench around nothing. “Where does my pretty girl need to cum?”
You saw the way he licked his lips, his tongue looked so delicious against the moonlight you almost cried again.
“Your mouth, please, please, please.”
Enjin pecked your lips and let go of your throat, moving down until he was comfortably between your legs. He used both hands to open your thighs, kissing, biting, sucking on them until tiny yet noticeable red marks appeared on your skin.
He looked up at you through long lashes. “Keep them open f’me, yeah?”
You nodded, whining when he let go of your flesh as you immediately missed the contact. He chuckled against your cunt.
“Don't laugh,” you said, grabbing a fist of his hair. He moaned.
“Can't fuckin’ help it. I love the way you become such a needy whore when I'm about to eat you out.”
You buckled your hips up, clit grazing his nose as you sighed happily.
Enjin locked his arms under your thighs, palms flat against your stomach and he pressed you down into the mattress.
You looked at him through half-lidded eyes, biting your lips as you begged him again: “Please, ‘Jin.”
He spit into your cunt, then took your clit into his mouth and sucked hard, using his tongue simultaneously to stimulate you. You cried out, tightening your grip on his hair and earning a groan against your flesh that vibrated throughout your entire body. Your legs trembled and you had to remind yourself to keep them open, wanting nothing more than to close them around his head and bury him against your cunt.
You were dripping, both from the stimulation and from having your previous orgasm denied. Your juices dripped down your ass. And Enjin moaned again as his tongue lapped at your lower lips, picking your sweet juices up with his tongue and swallowing like they were the bloody fountain of youth.
Enjin was dirty. Slurping your cunt, inserting his tongue inside and lapping like a thirsty dog. He always ate your pussy like a hungry man and you loved every fucking second of it. He moved again towards your neglected clit, flicking it with his tongue over and over again. You shuddered, your orgasm fastly approaching.
You thought he'd made you cum like this, and it was enough, all you wanted to cum on his pretty mouth and ride him until sunrise.
But he slapped your tit with a hand, then moved it down to insert two fingers at once inside your dripping hole. His long fingers curled inside you to find your g-spot. It took him less than a second, having engraved it in his brain from all your previous encounters, and abused it immediately. Hitting it like it owed him blood, sucking and lapping at your clit, biting it when he felt your legs start to close.
“C’mon, babe, cum f’me. Squirt all over my fuckin’ face.”
You did just that. With a scream, your back arched off the bed, the iron grip on his hair made him let out a loud, long moan around your clit as he sucked hard and fingered you deep even as your orgasm had passed.
You whimpered, trying to pry him off of you, but failed miserably as he cleaned you up, picking up every last drop of juice from your cunt down to your ass.
When he finally let go you were shaking, hands desperately locking behind his neck and forcing him up until your lips met. You kissed him like he might disappear. Once the kiss broke off, you licked his face and cleaned him up just as he had done for you.
He groaned, bucking his hips against the mattress for some friction.
“I do. My pretty slut, cumming over my face like that.” He said between kisses.
You wrapped your legs around his waist and brought him closer, his cock resting against your stomach. He sighed.
You two stayed like that for a couple heartbeats, your hands still laced behind his neck, thumbs caressing the sensitive skin of his undercut. Enjin shivered against your touch yet mirrored it– his thumbs drawing soft circles on the skin of your hips.
When he finally lined himself up, he looked right into your eyes. Thrusting slowly, stretching you out with his thick cock in ways you still didn't imagine possible, Enjin never once broke eye contact.
His touch, the way his eyes bore into yours with such devotion, the feeling of fullness as he bottomed out.
You wished you could stay like that.
Let you be buried with his cock in you.
While he looked like he loved you.
The moment didn't last long– as soon as Enjin felt too much, or maybe when he felt your cunt clenching around him, he moved.
It started slowly, because Enjin wanted you ruined for him, but he couldn't stomach the thought of physically hurting you (unless you begged for it).
Then he picked up the pace. He grabbed one of your legs, threw it over his shoulder. The angle made his tip hit your g-spot over and over again.
He leaned in until his lips were against your ear and your knee was pressed firmly against your shoulder, the burnt of your stretched muscles made you moan even harder.
“Like this, huh? The way I fuck you,” you whined a yes, but it was swallowed by his moans and the wet slapping sound of his cock going in and out your cunt.
The way he fucked you was brutal. What started soft and slow had become violent and needy, his hips moving faster than you'd ever seen.
You could feel him everywhere, inside and out. His cock still too thick for you to be able to simply take it, instead your cunt closed around it, unsure if it wanted him out or just fucking deeper. The hand that had once grabbed your leg lay flat beside your head, keeping himself up, the one that has been free slapped at your tits to watch them bounce.
Enjin twitched inside you, loving every second of it.
“Don't ya fuckin' dare cum. Ain't done with you yet.”
“Please, Enjin please.” Your begging did nothing.
He wanted to feel you, to have you for as long as he could before disappearing again, because this once he might go through with it and never answer the phone again.
At least that's what he told himself before he pulled up to your house.
But that's the same shit he had been telling himself for years and he always ended up there–on your bed with his cock buried deep inside your cunt or your throat.
“Said I ain't done. Fucked you dumb already or what, whore?” He grabbed your face and forced you to look at him, squishing your cheeks. “Open up.”
You did, mouth open and tongue peeking out. He spit directly on it, watching as you swallowed instinctively and moaned, moaned at the taste of his spit.
“Good slut. Always so good f’me.”
You clenched at his words– his degradation and his praise laced together to make a mess out of you.
Enjin pulled out, yet you didn't have time to complain as he was already manhandling you, turning you around to lie on your stomach. Then, he grabbed your hips and pushed them up, one hand slapped your ass and you pushed your hips against him, earning yourself another stinging slap. His other hand found its home on your hair, pressing your head into the mattress.
He thrusted in again, this time in one swift, painful motion. You screamed, clawing at the sheets, clenching your cunt around his cock.
And Enjin moaned, loud and throaty, throwing his head back in bliss as he felt the way your walls clamp around his cock. He started thrusting, fast and deep and with enough strength that he needed to grab your hair so you wouldn't move.
He slapped your ass again.
Each time you moaned and clenched, and each time he let out his sweet little moans into the air of your bedroom.
Enjin just couldn't resist the way your pussy called for him.
“Y’ always do this. Hit me up in the middle of the night, with your sad eyes and your pretty cunt already wet.”
He laughed. “You ain't sorry for shit.” He slapped you again, your skin already red and burning. “Just. Need. My. Fuckin'. Cock. Huh?” He emphasized each word with a thrust, your mind going blank as your mouth hung open and drool made it out and into the sheets. “That's what helps ya sleep, ain't it?”
When you didn't answer, Enjin slapped you hard, harder than ever before. Grabbed your ass cheek and fondled it, not to sooth the pain but to multiply it.
You nodded desperately against the sheets. Eyes wet with tears that mixed with your spit and you looked at him over your shoulder.
He had never seen a prettier sight.
His pace became relentless, chasing his high as much as he was chasing yours. The tip of his cock hit your g-spot over and over and over again and the grip on your hair brought pain and pleasure through your body.
“Touch yourself,” he groaned between thrusts. “I want you to squirt again. Want you all over me, pretty girl.”
You obeyed with a trembling hand, playing with your clit.
Moans filled the silence, both yours and his, the sound of skin against skin, the wet noises your cunt was making for him.
Your orgasm washed over you with brute force, your own fingers moving faster and faster trying to match Enjin's thrusts. And you screamed, screamed as you squirted all over Enjin: his cock, his abs, his thighs, your release dripping down your thighs as you shook from it.
He leaned forward. “Where do you want me to cum, pretty girl? In this slutty cunt of yours? Your ass?”
“Inside,” you cried, looking at him again. “Cum inside me ‘Jin.”
“Inside?” He laughed, breathless. “Want me to breed this pretty cunt of yours so you'll always have sum’ to remind you of me?”
You nodded shamelessly and the way you clenched told Enjin you weren't bluffing.
You wanted him to breed you.
His hips stuttered, losing rhythm but never force. He thrusted once, twice, finally bottoming out as ropes and ropes of his warm, sticky cum painted your insides white.
Fuck, he wished he could see it.
And he kept moving, fucking you and himself through your orgasms. Moaning obscenely at the feeling, shuddering each time he felt you tremble under him.
Enjin pulled out at last, falling next to you with a thud. You couldn't remain in place without his support and fell too, your ass pressed against his thigh as both your releases dripped out of your cunt.
He gathered them with a couple fingers and pushed them inside, gloating at the way you whined.
A sick part of him wanted his sticky cum to actually stick where it was supposed to.
The aftermath was silent. Not the kind of silence that brought peace, but the one that carried unspoken words and empty promises and made the air too heavy to breathe.
The room still smelt like smoke and late summer. The faint orange glow of the streetlights snuck in through the blinds, casting shadows around your skin and his tattoos.
Enjin moved, sitting at the edge of the bed, his shaking hands grabbing his trousers and pulling out his pack of cigarettes. He took one between his fingers and lit it.
His elbows rested on his knees as his head bowed.
You looked at him through tired eyes. Tired from the sex, tired from the games you two had been playing for far too long.
The way his back glistened with sweat, the soft tremble of his breath, the way he took drag after drag to calm himself down.
He looked at you. Truly looked at you like he often did after he claimed you.
There was no detachment, no coldness.
Just the quiet love that blooms in people that never quite learnt how to hold things without breaking them.
Enjin could've laughed, he could've left.
He took another drag, then passed you the cigarette. “You don't know what you're askin’ for.”
You took it, taking a drag for yourself. “Yeah. I do.”
Because Enjin wasn't always like this, you remembered the kid you grew up with, who never feared anything, not even love.
You could still see him in the man he had become.
Just as you saw his fears.
The violence, the pain, the uncertainty. The fear of ruining you just by staying close.
“You keep me here,” he said, hesitating before continuing, “there's no going back.”
“I don't want to go back. I'm tired of games, Enjin. I love you.”
Enjin sighed, taking the cigarette from you and killing it into the ashtray you kept in your nightstand.
You had expected him to leave.
He didn't. He lay beside you, draping an arm around your waist and bringing you closer. Your head rested on his chest.
For a man that liked to pretend he didn't care, he sure held you like he was afraid you'd disappear on him. Maybe he was. Maybe he had always been.
He didn't say I love you back.
Long after you fell asleep against him, to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, he remained awake. Eyes fixated on your sleeping face, the soft furrow of your brows, the way your lips parted with a pout.
Enjin realized he hadn't been ready to let himself be ruined, he had been ruined all along.
Because he had been yours since the beginning.
“I love you,” he murmured.
You stirred in your sleep, and your hold around his body tightened.
do not repost, translate or claim my work as your own.
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