first time he falls for kaji akihiko the cold and distant man who gets into fights, imposes respect, has the highest level of charisma, doesn't seem approachable at all but is also the hottest guy anyone has ever seen. the akihiko who'd only walk side to side with someone as talented and charismatic as him, the someone haruki wishes to be but doesn't hope to too hard at the same time.
and second time he falls again for akihiko the friendly bandmate, the one struggling between his two instruments but putting everything into music, willing to change his life, getting better out of love and of passion, supporting him through his own self-confidence issues. the akihiko that wants to be free with his music and who wants to choose who he'll love.
that's just beautiful because haruki thought he had figured him out at the beginning but it turns out he fell harder when he got to know the second layer of akihiko's character.
note: there is a surprisingly small amount of explicit qifrey headcanons out there and i’m determined to fix that — apologies in advance if anything i’ve listed is contradictory or doesn’t line up with the story, i’m only a little bit into the manga as of writing this
Part 2 is here! >> Qifrey NSFW Headcanons (pt. 2)
Olruggio version >> Olruggio NSFW Alphabet
Easthies version >> Easthies NSFW Alphabet
18+ mdni !!
- - - - - - - - - - -
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
he does NOT play about aftercare, he's pretty regimented and thoughtful so the aftercare would be planned well before foreplay even begins — soap and towel on the bathroom counter ready for a bubble bath, favorite food/snacks/drinks prepped and on standby, clean blankets to replace the ones he’s sure to ruin
he secretly likes to be pampered every now and then too but doesn’t expect it, although whoever he loves enough to take to bed would likely pick up on that and make sure he is treated to it
with no exception, his partner will be sleeping in his arms or vice versa the rest of the night
B = Body part (their favorite body part of their partner’s)
eyes (in a perverted way) and mouth/neck (less perverted way)
VERY into eye contact (ironic, i know) likes seeing that twinkle in his partner’s eye when he first sinks into them or they sink into him, likes watching them get teary-eyed from the pleasure, and likes watching their eyes roll back when they are close
does like to stick his fingers in his partner’s mouth now and again ngl, but mainly loves the mouth and neck for kissing; delicate, rough, needy, teasing — the options are endless and they all produce different results, he loves to experiment to see what gets under their skin, what makes them tick
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
has a fascination with it tbh, he views it as soul binding in a way, so if he trusts someone enough to fuck them, he's coming inside (with permission of course) or vice versa as a way to seal the connection — definitely some possessive undertones there that he would never admit to
he especially loves just watching his partner come, its raw and visceral in a way he doesn’t typically allow himself to indulge
prefers not to come on his partner’s face unless requested but does enjoy when his partner comes on his LOL idk when he does it to his partner it feels blasphemous but when they do it to him its just hot
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
has thought about the potential use of forbidden magic in the bedroom for pleasure — purely theoretical, never put into practice
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
has had very few partners, but there was plenty of intimacy with each that has brought him a decent amount of experience, but admittedly not as much as most people
he is observant and patient though, so give him a little time and he will figure anything out
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
lotus or spooning
also appreciates missionary, can’t go wrong with the classics
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
his lighthearted demeanor is still there but his focus can make him come off more intense, he appreciates the human nature of sex and doesn't let his partner get embarrassed when things dont exactly go according to plan
he’d smooth over mishaps with kisses, like if his partner slipped or knocked their ankle on the bedside table he’d press a kiss to it as he continues, very sweet and attentive
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
well groomed but not hairless unless preferred by his partner
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
perfect mix of psychological and physical, he knows that appealing to someone’s fantasies is the quickest way to succeed in the bedroom
romantic in the way that he is a very devoted and sincere lover, filthy in the way that he gets completely overtaken during sex, his usual composure becomes something still controlled but more depraved and daring
also big on holding hands during sex, he doesn’t care how cliché it is
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
does not have time to do it as much as he should, ends up pent up more often than not
if he has a keepsake from his partner, he will sometimes jack off while holding it in his other hand, ex. a pendant, a cap ornament, a piece of clothing (bonus points if it smells like them)
and he will feel guilty about it every time
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
already kind of dropped a few but here’s some more: bondage, kneeling, begging, praise, worship, aphrodisiacs, cockwarming, multiple orgasms, temperature play/wax play, sub/dom dynamic
he’s definitely a switch but prefers being dominant because its an easier headspace for him to be in — specifically soft dom/pleasure dom or a mix of both depending on the day
every now and then can enjoy some mild verbal degradation but only at his expense, never his partner’s
heavily into foreplay, wants to make sure he’s fully there with his partner in mind, body, and soul, nothing less
also has some very mild sadistic/masochistic tendencies that he refuses to examine too closely
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
prefers doing it at home using a soundproofing spell, other than that as long as its somewhere private that provides him the space and time he needs to get him and his partner off he’s open to it
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
when his partner moans his name, having his hair pulled/tugged on, love bites, starting foreplay over clothes, undressing each other
really enjoys teasing, it makes the inevitable that much more rewarding
a nice perfume/cologne can also get his blood pumping
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
anything dangerous or too irresponsible is probably a no-go
very much needs explicit consent, anything less is a no to him
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
likes giving oral more than receiving but is not opposed
very good but agonizingly slow, he draws it out on purpose just to see his partner squirm and beg
occasionally likes to make them come from his mouth alone first, likes to get them all worked up again for a second or sometimes third orgasm before he’s even had his first, his patience knows no bounds
although he’s skilled with his mouth, he’s even better with his hands — long, dexterous fingers in tandem with his sharp observation and adaptability make him an expert at building his partner up and breaking them apart
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
kind of toxic of him but depends on his stress/mood
the more stressed he is the rougher he gets (with consent ofc), rough pounding and harsh grip but usually paired with lots of kisses and sweet nothings/praise, ex. “you are doing so well/you take me so well” and “you are so beautiful” or just “i love you”
when’s he’s less stressed, he’s more composed and measured, taking his time, sensual and loving but pacing himself until him and his partner are on the verge of insanity, when like this his words can be more teasing/toying, playfully frustrating, lots of “what was that? i couldn’t quite make that out?” and “you must ask politely” or “beg for me”
he’s funny like that
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
not opposed, but he usually finds that its more difficult to be spontaneous than it is to simply plan in advance
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
risk in the sense of experimentation — absolutely
risk in the sense of actual danger to ones health or livelihood/something irreversible — probably not
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
high physical stamina and even higher mental stamina
confirmed sleeper build so he can go multiple rounds no sweat if him and his partner so desire and has a mental fortitude that is nearly unbreakable unless he wants it to be
despite that, he can sometimes come quicker than expected if he hasn’t seen his partner in a while — but that does not slow him down, if anything it spurs him on further
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves)
oh yeah, it practically comes with the territory of being a witch considering all the useful gadgets and tools they create
assuming magic sex toys aren’t forbidden, he might even have a small journal dedicated to the spells used on different toys he comes up with and what type of stimulation they produce, notes which ones his partner seems to enjoy, etc.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
LOVES to tease his partner, almost unfairly so
he knows exactly what words to say to get his partner hot and bothered, how to say them, and what small touch to accompany it for maximum effect
he likes being teased too but he’s not very easy to crack (and is secretly prideful of that fact)
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
oh he wants to hear every single sound his partner makes, will sometimes stop mid fucking to explicitly say so if he senses them holding back
he also will be vocal but more through words (ex. talking you through it) and low moans, maybe the occasional whimper if he’s really letting himself relax
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
despite his need for privacy, he once had a wet dream in which him and his partner were strolling about the great hall and his partner decided to hide under his robe to pleasure him, when he woke up, he had never been so hard in his life — he sometimes revisits the fantasy when masturbating
on a related note, he really enjoys lazy wake-up sex
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
slightly longer than average, pretty pink tip, i’ll let you imagine the rest
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
higher than one might expect, but definitely a quality over quantity type of person in the bedroom
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
an avid enjoyer of pillow talk but once the conversation settles he tends to get wrapped up in his thoughts, not always in a negative way, he’s just a naturally contemplative person
usually likes to watch his partner fall asleep first, it brings him a sense of peace that makes it easier to drift off himself
“Oh- Arkah, wait! Fuck, let’s take a break, okay?” You huff, clearly out of breath from having the wind thrusted out of you at full force. Slowly, with an almost addicting agony. He smiles that charming smile, you can feel it behind you, he’s staring at that sinful arch that he’s got in your back. “Just a liiittle longer and I promise we’ll take a break.” He murmurs.
You’re confident he’s lying. He said that 4 “just a little longer”s ago. Your eyes cross into the powerful abyss that is pleasure, surrendering to your fate as you gush around his thick cock head, the deep cocoa tip kissing that one pillowy spot inside you that has you splitting squirt.
“This is quite the mess you’ve made.” He says, snapping his hips forward with zero intentions of stopping, pointing out the obvious that you can barely comprehend. “Mmmggh-!” You only whine in response, babble his name. Your eyes are rolling back and suddenly your thoughts are just as cross. “You got it, baby cakes. C’mon..” he coos, big slightly dry palms reach around your front which is pressed hard into the mahogany of his desk and guide you upright so your back is against his chest.
The new angle is putting a small bulge in your tummy every time his hips piston forward. His neck crams down to press humid kisses on the spot below your ear and his arm wraps around your middle, trapping your arms and forcing you to take what you’re given.
Tears brim in your eyes. Overwhelming pleasure over takes you past your limits.
“‘M almost done, just— shit! you squeeze around me so tight.” He gruffs; damn near to the point of no return. That coil in his tummy doesn’t last long before he’s shooting a fat load right up against your cervix. But he doesn’t stop, his hand slides down your bulging tummy to inch you orgasm by rubbing your clit.
You’re gripping his clothes, scratching his arms and tossing your head back against his shoulder with a choked moan. “Oooh, fuck— Arkah, baby! ‘M cumminggggg.” You squeal, mouth slightly dry from all the moaning and whimpering you’d been doing and hair slightly sweaty..
“Yeah? Is that right? Cum then. Cum and we can be done, alright, my love?” He commands, but the way he says it you wouldn’t think it was a command. You don’t think twice about obeying his orders though. Your thighs are quivering in seconds, waves of yet another orgasm crash into you like tidal waves.
The way your cunt continues to milk him for all he’s got even after he came just makes it even harder to resist continuing what he started. He’s rutting into you slow and hard while you’re coming down from your high, a milky ring forming around his base and dribbling down your inner thighs.
When you’re done and he’s flaccid he pulls out and kisses the side of your head while you’re all twitchy against his chest. “Fuuuuck.. finally, a break..” you whisper hoarsely.
“I know you were waiting for that one.” He chuckles while reaching for a napkin.
Then he cleans you up and sends you on your way with a smile on his lips and a smack to your ass. ♡
✉️𓂅 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐋! “ 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐇 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐊𝐒!! In honor of this heavenly day I wrote Arkah Corvus and black reader ♡“
Enjin's been an ass all day and now it's time to fix that cocky attitude
MINORS DON'T INTERACT
Kinks: Brat / Brat Taming (Reversed Roles), Femdom, Power Struggle / Switching, Rough Sex / Primal Play, Teasing / Taunting / Mocking, Choking / Breath Play (light), Ownership / Possessive Language, Size Difference / Strength Kink, Exhibitionism / Humiliation, Creampie / Breeding Vibe, Aftercare + Sweet Dom/Sub Reconnection
He’s been a pain in your ass all day.
It started at breakfast. You shuffled into the kitchen still half-asleep, eyes bleary and steps sluggish like a zombie, oversized shirt slipping off one shoulder. You’d barely crossed the threshold when Enjin pushed past you without warning—broad chest brushing deliberately against your back, one tattooed hand grazing the curve of your hip just a little too slow, too intentional, as he reached the counter first.
You grumbled under your breath, shooting him a sleepy glare.
He just turned and flashed you that typical that infuriatingly smug grin, dimples carving deep into his cheeks, golden eyes sparkling with pure mischief. “Mornin’, trouble.”
You sighed, telling yourself your mood would improve the second you had some coffee in you—until Tomme spoke up from the table, voice apologetic. “Uh… sorry, Bunny. Enjin took the last of it.”
Your head snapped toward the blond Cleaner. Sure enough, he was leaning against the counter, casually sipping from a full mug like he hadn’t just committed a cardinal sin. You scowled at him hard.
Enjin simply shrugged, completely unbothered, and took another slow, pointed sip. Steam curled up around his face as that infuriating grin widened. “You snooze, you lose, trouble.”
Asshole.
Tomme tried to make amends, already moving to grab fresh grounds. “I can make a new pot real quick—” “Don’t bother,” you muttered, irritation souring your stomach. You weren’t in the mood for caffeine anymore. Not when Enjin looked so damn pleased with himself, like he could already tell exactly how worked up he was making you.
Later on, after a pleasant lunch with Riyo, you found yourself in the workshop helping Follo and Gris count and document supplies. The room hummed with the quiet bustle of other supporters moving between shelves and crates, but your focus stayed on the task at hand—until Gris’s low voice cut through the noise.
“Grab the spare filter cartridges from the top shelf for me, sweetheart?” he asked, already jotting notes on his clipboard while Follo sorted through a nearby box.
You nodded and crossed to the tall metal shelving unit, stretching up onto your tiptoes as far as your small frame would allow. Your fingers brushed uselessly against the edge of the top shelf where the box had been shoved just out of reach. “Come on…” you muttered, hopping once in frustration, the hem of your shirt riding up a little as you strained.
A warm, solid presence pressed right up behind you—too close, too familiar. Enjin’s chest brushed your back, one tattooed arm sliding easily over your shoulder as he reached up without even trying. His fingers closed around the box you’d been fighting for, and for a second his body pinned you gently against the shelves, heat radiating through his shirt and into your skin. “Need a hand, trouble?” His voice was low and lazy, breath ghosting hot against your ear, that lazy, troublemaker smirk practically audible in every syllable.
Before you could snatch it from him, Enjin stepped back just enough to dangle the box high above your head, well out of reach, shaking it teasingly between his fingers.
You spun around, cheeks already burning. “Enjin—give it back, you asshole.”
He grinned wider, dimples carving deep, holding it even higher as you jumped once, twice, swatting at his wrist. You could feel every set of eyes in the room flick your way—Follo’s golden gaze lingering on the way your body moved, Gris raising one scarred brow from his clipboard, the rest of the supporters pausing their tasks to watch and whisper.
“What’s wrong, princess?” Enjin drawled, voice dripping with mock innocence as he twirled the box just out of reach again. “Too short to reach? C’mon, jump a little higher. I know you can do it.”
Your face flamed hotter. You lunged forward, grabbing at his arm, but he just lifted it higher, laughing low and warm while he stepped back out of your range.
“Enjin, I swear. I’m going to fucking strangle you.”
The room went suddenly, uncomfortably silent. Enjin’s smirk only sharpened, golden eyes gleaming as he looked down at you. “In front of everyone, trouble? Kinky.”
You stopped dead in your tracks, hands fisted at your sides, trembling with a mix of embarrassment and pure rage. Your face burned redder than Riyo’s hair.
Enjin’s expression flickered for half a second—like maybe he’d finally pushed you too far—until a large hand landed on his shoulder. He turned to find Gris standing there, calm and steady as always. “Enough, Enjin,” Gris said, voice low and even. He plucked the box from Enjin’s hand without effort and handed it to you with a gentle nod. “Leave her alone.”
Enjin rolled his eyes, but that smirk settled right back onto his face as he shoved his hands into his pockets and sauntered toward the door. You ducked behind Gris for safety, sticking your tongue out at the blond’s retreating back like a petty little brat.
The final nail in the coffin came that evening.
You stepped out of the bathroom still damp from the shower, towel twisted loosely around your wet hair as you padded toward your dresser. The day had already left you raw and simmering—every smirk, every deliberate brush of Enjin’s body, every stolen sip of coffee and dangling box still burned under your skin. You just wanted to slip into something soft and comfortable, crawl into bed, and maybe touch yourself to take the edge off before you actually strangled the blond asshole.
Fingers flipping through the neatly folded pile of panties, you hunted for those worn-in, cotton baby-blue full briefs that always felt like a hug after a long shift. Your hand paused when you brushed something stiff and out of place tucked between the soft fabric.
A folded piece of paper.
You pulled it free, unfolding it with a growing scowl. The handwriting was unmistakable—lazy, messy scrawl that somehow still managed to look smug.
Hey trouble. Stole those cute baby-blue panties for some jack-off material. Will return them when I’m done. P.S. They’ll be clean this time, promise.
Your fingers tightened until the paper crumpled in your fist. Heat flooded your face, equal parts fury and something dangerously close to arousal. That fucking asshole had the nerve to root through your drawer, steal your favorite pair, and then leave a goddamn receipt like it was funny.
The towel hit the floor with a wet slap.
You yanked on the first clean clothes your hands found—a loose jumper that covered you enough before you were storming out of your room. Bare feet slapped against the hallway floor, heart pounding and every step only stoked the fire higher.
Now he was going to pay.
The door to Enjin’s room clicks shut behind you with a hard, final sound that still feels like a challenge. He’s already lounging there in nothing but a black tank and low-slung sweats, long gray coat tossed over the chair, the hem of his shirt riding up to show the sharp cut of his hips and the dark swirl of tattoos disappearing beneath the waistband. A half-smoked cigarette dangles from his lips, yellow eyes half-lidded in that lazy, that infuriatingly smug way that always makes your cunt clench before he’s even touched you.
“Long day, trouble?” he drawls, smoke curling slow and lazy toward the ceiling. “You look like you wanna bite something.”
You don’t answer with words.
You kick the door the rest of the way shut, stalk over, and swing a leg over his hips before he can finish his next lazy inhale. The mattress dips under your knees as you settle your weight right on the thick, half-hard line of his cock through the thin fabric. Enjin’s brows lift, surprised for half a second—then that grin splits wide, dimples carving deep.
“Well shit,” he chuckles, low and smoky. “Maybe I should annoy you more often, huh?”
You don’t give him time to tease. You snatch the cigarette from his mouth, stub it out on the ashtray he keeps on the nightstand, and shove both hands flat against his chest, pinning him down. His tattoos flex under your palms as he lets you—actually lets you—push him flat to the mattress.
“Tonight you’re gonna shut up and take it for how annoying you’ve been today, Enjin.”
His laugh is rough, delighted, vibrating straight up into your core. “Is that so, princess?”
“Yeah,” you mutter, already rocking your hips slow and deliberate, grinding your soaked panties against the growing hardness beneath you. “It is.”
You peel your shirt off in one rough motion and toss it somewhere behind you. His yellow eyes drop immediately to your tits, tongue dragging slow over his lower lip like he’s already imagining his mouth on them. You don’t let him. You grab his wrists and shove them up over his head, leaning your full weight down so your breasts brush his chest.
“Hands stay there,” you order, voice low. “Or I stop.”
Enjin’s grin doesn’t even flicker. “Yes ma’am.” The words drip with mockery, but his cock twitches hard against your cunt anyway. He keeps his arms stretched above his head like a good boy—tattooed fingers loosely curled into the pillow, eyes locked on yours with pure wicked amusement.
You shove his tank up and off, dragging your nails down the hard planes of his stomach until his abs tense and a low hiss slips between his teeth. You hook your fingers into the waistband of his sweats and yank them down just far enough for his thick cock to spring free—already flushed dark, leaking at the tip, veins standing out like they’re begging for attention.
You wrap your hand around him, stroking once, slow and tight from base to head, thumb smearing the bead of pre-cum over the swollen tip. Enjin’s hips jerk up instinctively. You squeeze harder at the base, stopping him cold.
“Stay still,” you warn.
He laughs again—breathier this time—but he obeys, sinking back into the mattress with a lazy roll of his shoulders. “Fuck, you’re hot when you’re mean.”
You don’t answer. You just shove your own soaked panties to the side, line him up, and sink down in one slow, brutal drop.
The stretch punches the air out of both of you. He’s thick—always so fucking thick—and the way he fills you to the hilt in one go makes your walls flutter and clench around him like they’re trying to milk him already. You brace both hands on his chest and start moving—rolling your hips in deep, filthy circles, grinding your clit against his pelvis on every downstroke.
Enjin’s head tips back, throat bared, a low groan rumbling out of him. His fingers twitch above his head like he wants to grab your hips so bad it hurts, but he keeps them there. For now.
“Shit—look at you,” Enjin rasps, voice rough and wrecked with pleasure. His golden eyes are glued to where you’re taking him, watching the way your pussy stretches around his girth on every downstroke. “Riding me like you own this cock. That’s my greedy girl…”
“I do own this fucking cock,” you snap back, voice breathy but fierce. You slam your hips down harder, grinding your clit against his pelvis on the next drop.
He lets out a low, broken groan as you snap your hips faster, riding him like you’re trying to prove a point. The wet slap of skin meeting skin echoes through the room—filthy, rhythmic, obscene—your slick dripping down the thick length of his cock with every grind, coating his shaft and soaking his heavy balls until the sheets beneath him are a ruined mess.
You can feel every throb of him inside you, hot and insistent, stretching you so full it borders on too much. Your pace is brutal, thighs burning, but you keep pushing—rising up until just the fat head catches at your entrance, then slamming back down, taking him to the hilt again and again.
A frustrated huff slips out of you as exhaustion starts to creep in. Your knees ache, hips protesting with every punishing lift, but you refuse to slow. Enjin just watches you through half-lidded golden eyes, that signature shit-eating smirk curling slow and lazy across his face.
“Aw, getting tired already, princess?” he drawls, voice rough with pleasure but dripping with that infuriating amusement.
You pout hard, cheeks burning, and slam your hips down with extra force—burying him so deep his head tips back into the pillows on a broken groan. Your hand flies up to cover his mouth, palm pressing firm against those smirking lips.
“Sh-shut up,” you gasp, voice shaky but stubborn.
He chuckles against your skin—low, warm, and entirely too pleased with himself. Then the bastard licks a slow, deliberate stripe across your palm, tongue dragging hot and wet just to be a complete menace. His yellow eyes sparkle with wicked delight when you shiver on top of him, cunt clenching hard around his throbbing cock in spite of yourself.
You scowl harder as you ride faster, chasing the angle that makes his cock drag perfectly over that spot inside you. Your tits bounce with every slam. Enjin’s eyes are glued to them, tongue caught between his teeth like he’s dying to suck on them but refusing to break the rules you set.
You glare down at him, chest heaving, lips parted on a shaky breath. “You’re such a fucking asshole.”
Enjin just murmurs a lazy “uh-huh” against your palm, the sound muffled and smug, nodding slow like he’s agreeing with the weather report instead of the way you’re currently trying to ride him into the mattress. His golden eyes stay half-lidded, that wicked, self-satisfied smirk still twitching at the corners of his mouth even with your hand clamped over it.
You shift your weight, knees digging harder into the sheets, and slide your free hand up to wrap around his throat. Your fingers barely meet around the thick column of muscle—nowhere near enough to really squeeze—but you press anyway, thumb and fingertips digging in just enough to feel his pulse jump under your touch. The size of him under your palm makes heat flare low in your belly, a fresh rush of slick coating his cock where it’s buried deep inside you.
Enjin’s chuckle vibrates straight against your fingers, low and warm and entirely too amused. His lashes flutter, golden eyes going a little hazy at the light pressure, but the smirk only widens, dimples carving deep as he rocks his hips up once—slow, deliberate—dragging his thick length along your fluttering walls like he’s daring you to do something about it.
You push your hands harder against him—one still clamped over his mouth, the other tightening around his throat in a wordless threat—as you focus every ounce of energy back on your own pleasure. Your hips snap down faster, bouncing harder and deeper. The wet, filthy slap of your ass meeting his hips fills the room, your slick dripping messily down his thick shaft and soaking his balls with every frantic grind.
Your head tips back, lips parted on a broken moan, eyes rolling toward the back of your skull as your lashes flutter wildly. Fuck—he feels so good like this, stretching you open, throbbing hot and heavy inside your clenching cunt. You’re close. Really fucking close. The coil in your belly winds tighter with every brutal drop of your hips, pleasure spiking sharp and electric up your spine—
When his control finally snaps.
One second he’s still letting you use him, golden eyes hazy and that smirk still twitching under your palm. The next, his tattooed hands lock around your waist like iron bands, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips hard enough to bruise. A low, rough growl rumbles against your fingers as he yanks you down flush against him, burying himself to the hilt in one savage thrust that punches the air straight out of your lungs.
“You really thought you could put me in my place, trouble?” he growls, voice low and dark and delighted. “Cute. Real fucking cute.”
He doesn’t give you a second to protest. He hooks your knees over his elbows, folds you in half, and starts fucking you like he’s been waiting to ruin you the entire time you were on top. Deep, brutal thrusts that punch the air out of your lungs and make the bedframe slam against the wall. Every snap of his hips drives his cock so deep you swear you feel it in your throat.
“That’s really fucking cute,” he laughs—low, filthy, and entirely too pleased with himself—leaning in until his forehead presses hot against yours. “Thinking you could boss me around? Nah, princess. I’m gonna remind you exactly where you’re always on the bottom.”
You try to snap something bratty back—“Fuck y—” but the words fracture into a broken, desperate moan the second he grinds his cock deep against your clit on the next thrust. He doesn’t slow down. Doesn’t tease anymore. He just rails you—hard, fast, relentless—tattooed chest gleaming with sweat, spiky blond hair a wrecked mess, that wicked dimpled grin never leaving his face even as he fucks you stupid.
Tears blur your vision, spilling hot and messy down your flushed cheeks as Enjin’s thick cock drags perfectly over every sensitive spot inside you with every brutal snap of his hips. The wet, filthy slap of skin on skin fills the room, your soaked cunt squelching obscenely around him while he folds you deeper, knees pressed to your chest, ankles hooked uselessly by your ears.
“I’m sorry—’m sorry, Enjin!” The words crack out of you in a broken sob, voice wrecked and high and trembling as another punishing thrust punches the air from your lungs.
He chuckles, low and dark and smoky, the sound vibrating straight through his chest and into yours. His hips never falter—not even for a second—driving into you with that same relentless, punishing rhythm that has your eyes rolling back. Sweat glistens on his tattooed chest, spiky blond hair a complete wreck, that wicked dimpled grin still carved deep into his face like he’s having the time of his fucking life.
“’Course you are, trouble,” he drawls, voice rough and teasing as he leans in closer, forehead pressed hot and damp to yours so you have nowhere to hide from those gleaming golden eyes. “Just needed a little reminder who you belong to, yeah?”
You nod frantically, the motion jerky and desperate, tears still streaming as your walls clamp down around his cock like a vice. Pleasure coils tight and vicious in your belly, racing up fast—too fast—your thighs shaking violently where they’re pinned against your chest. “Yes! Yes—I belong to you! I—I belong to you—fuck—!”
The confession spills out in a shattered string of whimpers, your voice cracking on every word as your cunt flutters and squeezes greedily around him, slick dripping down your ass with every deep, claiming thrust. Enjin’s grin only sharpens, dimples carving deeper, that shit-eating satisfaction rolling off him in waves while he keeps railing you straight toward the edge he’s been dangling just out of reach.
“Fuck yeah you do,” he growls against your lips, hips snapping harder, faster, grinding his pelvis right against your swollen clit on every brutal stroke. “My pretty little trouble. Gonna cum on my cock like a good girl? Or do I need to show you who’s really in charge some more?”
You don’t get the chance to answer. He shifts his angle, hits that perfect spot over and over, and your orgasm crashes into you so hard your vision whites out. Your walls clamp down around him like a vice, cumming hard around his thrusting cock as you shake and sob beneath him.
Enjin groans loud and deep, hips stuttering once, twice—then he buries himself to the root and floods you. Thick, hot ropes of cum pump deep inside your clenching cunt while he grinds through it, milking every last drop, marking you from the inside like he always does.
He stays buried deep even after he finishes, chest heaving, sweat dripping from his brow onto your tits. That lazy, satisfied grin is back in full force.
“There you go, trouble. Get all that meanness out of your system,” he murmurs, pressing a surprisingly soft kiss to your gasping mouth. “All better?”
You try to glare at him through the post-orgasm haze, but it’s ruined by the way your cunt is still fluttering happily around his softening cock. Enjin just chuckles, low and warm, and nuzzles his face into your neck like he didn’t just wreck you within an inch of your life.
“Love you too, princess.”
He stays right there—still inside you, arms wrapped around your waist, cigarette forgotten on the nightstand—perfectly content to let you catch your breath while he lazily traces patterns over your skin with his tattooed fingers.
A long, quiet beat falls over you in the post-sex haze. Then Enjin shifts, pressing another lazy kiss to your lips before resting his forehead against yours, yellow eyes half-lidded and warm.
“…Sorry, trouble,” he murmurs, voice rough but genuine, the words a little awkward like they don’t fit quite right in his mouth. “I was a real asshole today. Stole your coffee, fucked with you in front of everybody, took your panties like a dick… all of it. I pushed too far.”
You blink up at him, still hazy and floating, but the words land. Something tight in your chest loosens.
He brushes damp hair off your forehead with his thumb, dimples softening just a fraction. “Didn’t mean to make you feel like you had to fight me for it. You’re allowed to be mad. Hell, you should be mad. I earned that ride.” A low chuckle rumbles through his chest. “Even if you didn’t quite get to finish the job.”
You huff a tired little laugh, still breathless, and shove weakly at his chest. “You’re still an asshole.”
“Yeah,” he agrees easily, pressing another lazy kiss to your lips. “But I’m your asshole. And next time I pull that shit, you can tie my hands again and ride me till I cry. Deal?”
You pretend to think about it, then smirk against his mouth. “Deal. But you’re bringing me breakfast in bed tomorrow. First mug of coffee from the pot.”
Enjin groans dramatically, but his arms tighten around you, pulling you closer so you’re tucked against his chest, his softening cock still warm inside you.
“Fair enough, trouble,” he mumbles into your hair, already sounding half-asleep and stupidly content. “Fair enough.”
Hello!!! Can I request inner tamsy taking care of reader when they're sick?
Pairing: Tamsy Caines x gn!reader
Warning: Tamsy
Genre: Slight fluff, hurt and some comfort? Uh, health wise!
A/N: Omg we are so back! Also, here’s a link to a request I did similar to that, though Tamsy was trying his best to keep his happy go lucky façade 😭
────୨ৎ────
You poor thing
────୨ৎ────
It was an early afternoon and I was not doing well.
“Ugh… please…” I groaned, clutching weakly onto Tamsy’s hand. The one missing its pinky.
At this point, I’d stopped asking what happened to it. Every time I brought it up, he’d just smile faintly and redirect the conversation somewhere else, smooth as silk.
“What else could you possibly need, dear?” Tamsy asked softly, eyes half-lidded as he looked down at me from his chair beside the bed. “I’ve already given you everything.”
The way he said it almost made me feel greedy for asking.
“…Can’t you just take me to Eishia?” I muttered hoarsely. “Surely she has some kind of medicine or someth-”
A rough cough interrupted me.
Immediately, Tamsy leaned his chair back a few inches with a quiet scrape.
I stared at him.
“…Really?”
“What?” he replied calmly.
“It’s a cold. Not the plague.”
“And yet,” he said, resting his cheek lazily against his knuckles, “you’re still producing germs. I don’t need that.”
I rolled my eyes weakly and let my head fall back against the pillow.
Not like I could infect him anyway. Tamsy’s immune system was absurd. Honestly, everything about him was absurd. Strength, stamina, reflexes, health. It was like the universe went: hm yes, let’s make this one irritatingly perfect.
Lucky bastard.
Another cough shook through me, and Tamsy sighed quietly through his nose, sounding more inconvenienced than concerned.
Still, after a moment, he reached over and adjusted the blanket around my shoulders with surprising gentleness.
“You’re really...reallllyyyyyyy,-” he drawled out with theatrics.
I stared at him until he was finished.
"-really dramatic when you’re sick,” he murmured. Oh, the irony in that statement after what he just did.
“Says the man scooting away from me as if his immune system isn’t perfect.”
“...You say that like I’m wrong for preserving my health?”
“No, you’re just evil.”
“I’ve been told.”
What?
“My dear, do try to remember,” Tamsy said, lifting a finger with exaggerated patience, “-Eishia specializes in actual injuries. Missing limbs. Internal damage. Near death experiences. Not…” his eyes drifted lazily over your blanket cocoon, “…a common cold.”
He gave a soft sigh, leaning back into his chair.
“So please. Just rest.”
Inside his head, however, the tone was entirely different.
‘And STOP acting pathetic. This is the least terrible thing that could happen to you!’
Inner Tamsy slouched deeper into the chair, rubbing a hand down his face in annoyance. Honestly, he’d seen people survive far worse with less whining. Rudo being exhibit...there weren’t enough letters in the alphabet.
‘Just imagine if they knew what I could do to them...’
-
Already it was late afternoon. You pouted at him from the bed.
That almost made him snicker.
“Listen,” you rasped, glaring weakly through watery eyes, “-you know how much I hate being sick…”
“But you hardly ever get sick,” you continued bitterly. “And the one time you did? It vanished in a single day. One day. How? I don’t know. Frankly I think you made some sort of deal with a demon.”
Tamsy smiled faintly.
“I wish you’d tell me your secret because I could really use the advice,” you coughed roughly into your sleeve, “-right about now.”
“Mmm.” He rested his chin against his hand thoughtfully. “No.”
You sat upright so fast the blanket nearly slid off you.
“No?!”
Tamsy immediately reached forward and pressed you gently back into the mattress with one hand against your shoulder.
“Nope.” His smile widened slightly. “♡”
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
His eyes closed for a moment as he lowered his head, shoulders giving the faintest twitch. Speeds face
You narrowed your eyes.
“…Are you trying not to laugh right now?”
“No.”
“You ARE!” you accused hoarsely. “Tamsy, I feel horrible and you think this is funny?!”
You attempted to sound intimidating, but halfway through the sentence your throat betrayed you. Another coughing fit hit hard enough to make your eyes water.
Tamsy watched silently for a second.
Then he handed you a cup of lukewarm water with suspiciously perfect timing.
“You misunderstand,” he said smoothly, waving a hand dismissively. “I don’t think your suffering is funny.”
“I just think you being serious is adorable, y'know?”
You stared at him in disbelief.
It was moments like these that made you wonder how you even ended up together in the first place.
More importantly, what exactly had you seen in him.
Because really, why have you chosen to date a man who secretly enjoyed other people’s suffering?
Not that Tamsy knew you noticed.
Or that would be very, very bad.
Tiny things. The way the corners of his mouth twitched when someone’s plans fell apart. The faint amusement hidden behind his eyes whenever somebody got themselves into an unfortunate situation. Never enough to make him look cruel outright, however.
And like an idiot, you ignored every single sign.
As the stupid book he once gifted you said:
“Denial is a river in Egypt.”
At the time, you thought it was hilarious.
Now you were beginning to suspect he chose that specific quote on purpose just to privately laugh at you later.
…Actually, what even was Egypt again?
Some ancient faraway land in a very hot continent or something?
And what even was a continent?
Your brain felt like soup.
Ugh. Fever.
You groaned and removed the blanket from you while Tamsy watched from nearby with the same serene expression one might wear while observing an injured bird.
Despite everything, he still looked elegant sitting there.
Annoying.
-
Night time had finally arrived! Earlier, Tamsy had to help me shower, get into new pajamas. No, I couldn’t do it by myself. I was too dizzy. I’m surprised he even helped with that considering he couldn’t stand when I so much as coughed.
I know Tamsy likes clean shit but buddy, sickness is unfortunately a part of life.
Right now, I was in a better mental space. It felt nice having him care for me no matter how much he teased me or otherwise had this sudden shift in behavior where nurturing me seemed like a hinderance.
His hand gently caressed through my coils/curls/waves/strands. I closed my eyes with a smile. It made my headache disappear a bit.
“Wonderful!” He beamed. Then my headache slowly built back up just as it was before.
“No wait-!” I reached for his hand but he moved away. “So!” He continued, getting up to get the bowl of soup. “I made you some soup with the help of...Delmon,” he rolled his eyes. “He really wanted to see you, but mmm, I think me helping you is good enough. You know I don’t really do teams,” he casually conversed.
“Okay- wait, I can’t eat that right now. I still have a fev-”
“Now, open wide my dear!” He put the spoon to my lips.
“Mm mm!” I declined. Tamsy sighed. “Oh, I forgot to mention...Enjin took your snacks. Said he might as well eat them since you can’t with your sore throat and all,” he paused to look at me.
“WHA-”
Suddenly, broth, seasoning, and vegetables was flooding my mouth.
“Good girl/boy,” Tamsy praised with crinkled eyes.
“Tamsy, I already told y-” More soup.
No! This was not going to help my fever! It was gonna make it worse!
I covered my mouth. “Tamsy...I still have a fever...” I spoke from behind my hands.
“Oh!” His eyes widened in false surprise. “I thought the shower helped with that. I’m so...sooooooo-”
There he goes.
“-Sorry, my dear. Truly.” He even put a hand to his chest.
“Perhaps a bedtime story should suffice! I’ve got just the perfect story. One moment please...” He left for a few seconds and returned.
The book in his hand was called, “Rapunzel” Hm. What a unique and strange name...
...
Turns out, it was a horror story. And I had nightmares. Now it’s morning and I’m all by myself because he refused to keep me company for the night. Says he ‘stayed long enough as it was.’
Psh.
I got out of bed. Funnily enough, the fever and headache was gone but I still had a little cough. Just as I was about to go to the shower rooms, there was a knock on the door.
I opened it.
“H-hey! I heard you were sick. I just wanted to give you this,” Eishia stated and gave me a bottle with, what I assume medicine.
“That should completely take away your cold. I just...” she trailed off, “-don’t understand why you didn’t come to me yesterday? I uh, understand if you were maybe too sick to but...” she found the floor very interesting suddenly. “It’s just that, you could’ve been better already.”
“Tamsy told me you were more of a seriously injured, near death, kinda healer? And that I shouldn’t bother you with something like a common cold...” I said, confused.
Because genuinely, I was under the impression that she was for the more serious things myself. I didn’t want to embarrass myself by asking her for assistance for a mere cold compared to...Zanka being poisoned for example.
She looked equally as confused as me. “No, I deal with everything. From the little things to more serious ones. I’m not sure why he told you that....” she put a finger to her lips in thought.
“-But it’s okay! You have the anecdote now, so I...hope you feel better! And please come to me next time you’re sick. I’ll be glad to help!” She smiled then walked away.
I slowly closed the door, looking at the bottle of medicine in my hand.
So that was the secret. How Tamsy got better in one day that time.
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