[telly-belly]

Hi, Hello, and Welcome~!

My name is Telly and this is obviously a new account, but I've been on this hellscape since the late 2000s.

!! This is an adult kink blog MDNI (I will check your age)!! Please read the bellow before interacting, thank you~!

I decided to start this side blog to both get more comfortable with my sexuality and sex in general as well as wanting one place where I can reblog and save the fantasies that scratch that itch.

Personal Info: - I'm 28, female, she/her, demiromantic - Still trying to figure out what my sexuality is, so I will simply say I'm attracted to masc presenting peoples (might be bisexual with a preference to men). - I do know I've submissive! But I can switch if in the mood too. - I'm single, I might flirt back, but please be patient with me as I'm very shy and anxious talking to new people. - I'm open to about any pet name* - I have many toys, but never been anyone's toy (single and never had a sexual relationship because I was focused on school)

Kinks Hell Yes! - Size Kink/Difference, Size Queen (especially height difference) - Breeding, ovipositor, impregnation (really with only eggs) - Petplay, - Bondage* - Monster, Robot (basically anything that's not human, but is able to give consent) - Free Use/CNC/Exhibition* - Domination (Softdoms especially)/Submission (<- me) - Praise kink - Hypno kink/Intox kink* - Primal kink

Meh (I can sometimes be in the mood for, or be convinced to play along) - Edging - Group/Threesomes/Gangbang - Degradation kink

No, please leave me alone (I'm judging you) - Ageplay - Daddy kink (Listen I'm close with my Dad and it just feels off calling anyone else Dad or Daddy) (I'm not judging you here, this is very much a me thing) - Scat, watersports - Feet - Gun/Knifeplay - Sadism and Masochism* - Rapeplay

(*) So some of the kinks have * next to them. There are aspects of each of those marked kinks that I like or don't like. Essentially, if I'm comfortable with it, feel safe, and both of us agree this is just a scene and can be ended at any time, then I'll engage in it. As for pet names, again, it depends on the scene and how well I know you. Calling me whore right off the bat is probably not going to get me to respond, just saying.

Next, I will check the accounts of people who chose to follow me. If you are a minor (why the fuck are you on the internet and near me?) and anyone who doesn't have their age explicitly in their blog I will have you removed from my following and blocked.

Finally, this is a safe space. Anyone who identifies as queer can feel safe here and safe talking to me. If you are transphobic, biphobic, ableist, racist, sexist, etc. I will block you. No one's got time for your backward ass problems.

That's all I have for now, might edit this in the future, but thank you for reading~!

[miisbehaved]

Tongue Tied

starring tattoo artist!choso x reader (rec!)

summary: you’re left alone with your best friend’s quiet, mysterious roommate. What could possibly go wrong?

content: MDNI 18+, fem!reader, tattoo artist!choso, alt!choso, pierced!choso, stóner!choso, plug(?)!choso, hair-down choso, no use of “y/n”, pórn no plot, maybe some plot, high séx, elements of dubcon, oral séx (f!receiving), hándjóbs (m!receiving), sqúírting, dumbification, piv, size kink, CHOSO IS LOWK POSSESSIVEE, dare i say yandere?, brééding, etc.

word count: 5.1k

author's note: picture credits from left to right: einruji07 on X, b___ashui on X, einruji07 on X | divider credits go to @strangergraphics | this was inspired by an anon rec from a couple months ago! i tweaked it a little bit, so plz forgive me (ó﹏ò｡) 🩶 also, MDNI 18+ if you are not 18+ i will block you.

choso's aux: dreams, fairytales, fantasies - a$ap ferg, sativa - jhene aiko, girl with the tattoo enter.lewd - miguel, nights like this - the kid laroi, swim - chase atlantic, right here - chase atlantic , chokehold - sleep token

“Where the fuck is he?” You mumbled anxiously underneath your breath.

You had been waiting inside Curseblood Studio for almost twenty minutes at this point, your phone long since dead by your side, thighs stuck to the plush leather of the parlor couch, and the thin heel of your boot tapping restlessly against the worn flooring.

The interior of the place was dim, and the reception area was entirely empty. It was 19:00, and you knew it was near closing hours (if not already). 

Behind you, the soft pat, pat, pat of the summer rain tapped against the shop’s windows - a gentle melody accompanied by the faint humming of a tattoo gun somewhere deep within the shop, steady and distant, like a pulsing heartbeat thrumming in anticipation.

You were supposed to meet Suguru over an hour ago to catch the train into Chuo together. It was by order of Satoru, as the white-haired menace had practically begged the entire friend group to go clubbing with him tonight. But when Suguru never showed up at the station, you found yourself heading to the one place he was most likely to be: the tattoo shop where he worked. 

Which, conveniently, just so happened to be situated right underneath the apartment that he shared with–  

“You good?”

The voice was deep, soft, familiar.

You lifted your head, only for your eyes to land on… him.

Kamo. Choso. 

The tall, tired-looking man had silently situated himself behind the counter without you realizing earlier. His dark hair, which normally was tied up, fell loosely around his neck, showing off his shaggy wolfcut. The dark inked slash that ran across the bridge of his nose contrasted well with the silver shark bites that adorned his pink lips, and his usual loungewear was replaced with ripped cargos and a black muscle tee, exposing his muscular arms and the gorgeous, dark red ink that wrapped around his pale skin in dizzying patterns. 

His dark eyes met yours for just the smallest of moments, before quickly flicking away.

“Hi,” you murmured. You suddenly grew shy, feeling embarrassed for imposing well past his business hours. “Yes. I’m… good.”

He offered you a small nod in response. 

The two of you knew each other only in passing. He was part of Suguru’s other friend group, and just so happened to be both his roommate and the other co-owner of the studio. 

A reserved tattoo artist during the day. 

An introspective stoner during the night.

During the numerous times you found yourself in your best friend’s apartment, you had only observed Kamo Choso from a safe distance: the hard planes of his bare back as he disappeared through the kitchen, the faint scent of old weed lingering from his room, and the sharp line of his jaw caught in brief, accidental glances. 

It was only during the rare moments when the two of you awkwardly crossed paths, whether in the cramped hallway or the messy foyer, that conversation ever seemed possible. Yet even then, it rarely made it past a simple “hello”. 

Which is why you found him so hard to read.

You truly couldn’t tell if the man genuinely disliked you, found you entirely unremarkable, or if he was simply the kind of person who kept everyone at arm's length. 

Regardless, this was the first time ever where the two of you were addressing each other directly, without the chaperoning assistance of Suguru. 

The quiet man rested his inked arms on the countertop that separated the two of you, silently letting his dark eyes wander over your body, taking you in. 

Your hair framed your face softly, and every time you shifted, he could see the faint glint of the earrings that dangled beneath. The dress you wore tonight was short with a modest neckline, and the sheer black tights that adorned your legs accentuated the curve of your thighs. 

Choso blinked, before wordlessly staring down at his hands, which had, at some point, unconsciously began to grip onto the countertop below him.

“I apologize for imposing on you.” Your words came out small as you looked up at him from where you sat, your nails tapping nervously against the frayed leather of the couch.  

He shook his head almost immediately. “You’re not.” His voice came out a touch too deep, too serious, too rushed. He coughed lightly, willing his eyes to look at the clock on the wall rather than the mole by your lips. “Shop’s about to close though. You waitin’ on someone, or d’ya get bored and want some ink?” 

You couldn’t help but release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, an endearing chuckle escaping from your prettily glossed lips at his dry words. 

Cute. 

“Hmm…” you smiled, playfulness laced in your voice, “unfortunately, just waiting today...” 

He didn’t even have to ask. He already knew for whom.  

Suguru. 

Choso tsked, cursing the other man underneath his breath for keeping you, the most attractive person that’s ever stepped foot inside the building, waiting. You watched him with doe-like eyes as he scratched the back of his neck, his brow furrowed in deep thought, and his inked biceps flexing subtly under the lowlight.

A moment passed before the man in front of you spoke again. 

“Well then. Wanna do some waitin’ upstairs?” 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

The thick smoke from a dying roach curled languidly in the heady air between you both. 

It had been roughly thirty minutes since Kamo Choso had invited you into his apartment, taken your phone to his room to charge, and returned with the disappointing news that Geto-Fucking-Suguru hadn’t left you a single notification.

It had also been roughly twenty minutes since he’d offered you his weed.

Which is how you both found yourself here, sitting on a large couch in his shared living room, Human Earthworm 4 playing in the background, Choso’s zip-locked stash laying haphazardly on the coffee table in front of you, and his extended leg mere centimeters away from your thigh.

He didn’t expect you to be able to keep up with him, let alone agree to his offer in the first place. 

Smoking with company felt a whole lot nicer than smoking alone. 

Though, he didn’t know if that was because it was with you.

He took a sip of his Asahi, before chancing a glance up at you. 

The whites of your eyes were glazed a pretty pink, and you were already staring at him with hooded lids, your glossed lip caught between your teeth as if you were deep in thought. 

He looked away abruptly, startled by the force of his own heart squeezing at the sight of you. 

“You don’t like me very much.”

Your head felt heavy as it lolled to the side, lashes fluttering lazily with each slow blink. The observation left your lips with surprising ease, delivered in the same matter-of-fact tone one might use to comment on the weather or the color of the sky.

He raised a pierced brow, his eyes impassive and his jaw drawn tight. 

“Pardon?” 

You smiled at him as if you were amused, before reaching out to grab the perspiring can from him, your soft fingers grazing his inked ones. 

How bold. 

If you were any more sober, maybe you would have refrained. Given him his space. Maintained the formal distance that had always existed between you. You frowned at the thought. 

You took a sip of his beer, a hearty sigh escaping your mouth as the cool liquid gave you some reprieve from the heat that permeated the room. 

An unreadable look crossed his face as his eyes locked in on where the gloss on your lips left a faint mark where his mouth had been just moments before. 

“You heard me, Kamo Choso.”

You regarded him for a moment, dark eyes probing him as if a dare.

And, despite his proclivity for solitude and his enjoyment of peace, at the end of the day, Kamo Choso was simply a man.  

Game. On.

He wordlessly fished out another pre-rolled joint from his stash, settling it between his pierced lips before sparking his lighter.

A moment passed. 

The movie played on in the background. 

Outside, the distant horns of late-night Osaka traffic drifted up to the third-floor apartment. 

He exhaled through his nose, letting the smoke unfurl between you, filling the space, before slowly turning his head to face you, his expression unreadable. 

“Address me casually.” He spoke coolly, his voice deep and just a touch scratchy. 

And it took a moment for your hazy brain to register the fact that he was not asking.

He tapped the joint against the ashpan on the table, before taking another drag. 

You swallowed, heat beginning to pool in your belly as your legs clenched subtly at his words.

It was almost a tease, watching his strong jaw work as he smoked in front of you, and seeing the glimpses of hard muscle rippling underneath his cut shirt. 

How gorgeous he was.

How breathtakingly intimidating. 

And before you could even have time to register your thoughts, he’s shifting closer to you, his hand mere millimeters away from your leg. 

“Open.” His voice was low and careful. 

You quietly obeyed.

And his eyes were focused solely on your pretty mouth, on the way your lips softly wrapped around the paper of the joint as he placed it gently between them. 

His large fingers brushed against your bottom lip, the metal of his rings cooling the heat on your skin, before tenderly grazing your jaw. 

You quickly took a few puffs, trying to conceal your reddening face behind the smoke. 

You removed the joint from your lips, letting it rest on the edge of the ashpan as you stole his beer again, doing anything you could to try and calm yourself down. 

The corners of his mouth curled into a knowing grin. 

“-And for the record,” he leaned in, his hand moving to rest against your knee, the warmth of his skin searing straight through the thin fabric of your tights. “I don’t share my weed with people I don’t like.” 

And his face was so close to yours that you could see the flecks of gold in his glazed eyes, the smooth lines of his tattoo that ran across his nose, the reflection of the TV light within his brow piercings, and the way his tattoos crawled up his forearms and curled around his neck.

Your head began to spin.

The steady warmth in your belly began to manifest an embarrassing amount of slickness between your thighs.

There was no denying it.

He was attractive. So damn captivating. 

So really, you couldn’t help it when the following words tumbled out of your sweet, sweet mouth:

“I think I’m gonna need more proof than that, Cho-so-kun~” 

And despite your light, breathless voice and wavering grin, Kamo Choso was oh, so serious as he pulled you into his lap, muscular arms working to situate yourself on top of him as your dress rode up higher along your thighs.

Your hands instinctively reached out to prop against his hard chest, and the shock on your face had your mouth forming the cutest little ‘o’ for him. 

His chest was firm underneath the fabric of his shirt, and he smelt faintly of smoke and peppermint. 

The longer you sat on his lap, the more your breaths intertwined, his air becoming your own, and yours becoming his. 

You couldn’t help it as your hand drifted up the broad plane of his chest, your fingertips skimming over the fabric of his shirt before running over the slope of his tattooed neck. Your touch lingered along his jaw, thumb brushing gently against the cool metal of his shark bites 

So soft, so intimate.

He brought one of his hands to cup your own, keeping your palm pressed to his jaw, and your thumb resting against his lips.

“Deal.”

And then he’s turning his head to press his lips against your palm, mumbling something against your soft skin, before moving both of his large hands doowwnn your body, finding steady purchase on your hips, fingers spanning across your ass as he’s shifting you impossibly closer to him, until your warm cunt was pressed against his painfully large erection.

Your chest was now squished against his, your noses knocking, and your long lashes fluttering against his skin.

He could feel the stiffness of your nipples as it pressed into him, and he could smell the jasmine of your perfume that began to mix with the light perspiration on your neck. 

His lips were hovering yours, his breath shaky as he stared down at you. 

“Choso…” you all but whimpered to him.

And oh, how he loved hearing his name in your mouth. His dick lurched in his pants. 

Which is why he’s sticking his pierced tongue out, running it softly along your bottom lip, before languidly curling it up, letting it slip between the seam of your parted mouth as he finally, finally kisses you, sucking you in, savoring the sweetness of your saliva and the softness of your tongue. 

And you sighed, so prettily and dreamily as your eyes fluttered closed. 

You could feel the heaviness of his erection now as it pressed against your clothed cunt, the tights you were wearing doing absolutely nothing to hide the pathetic dampness that already began to soak through.

His large hands began to roam, rubbing circles into your hips before running down to your thighs, slipping his calloused fingers underneath the seam of your little black dress. And then pushing up, up, up along your legs until the skirtpiece is thoroughly bunched around your waist. 

And your mind was spinning, the head high from his weed making all of your senses feel so heightened. 

His hands felt rough and dominating. His tongue tasted like syrup and felt like sin. The cool metal of his piercings sent electrifying jolts straight through your overheated nerves and all the way down to your throbbing pussy. 

There was just something so addictive about him, the way he moved, the way he controlled the pace – something so captivating that all you could do was follow, willing your body into submission, making you want to obey. 

He released your bruised lips with a small haah~ 

You blinked up at him, your pretty eyes dazed and cutely confused as to why he was stopping now. 

His heart squeezed tightly in his chest. 

With one hand on your waist, he’s gently reaching around you, carefully picking up the joint that was still burning away on the ashtray, and then placing it between his lips. 

He inhaled slowly, methodically, letting his eyes lock with yours again, his gaze glassy and heavy-lidded.  

Such a pretty little thing, you were. 

And oh, how he wanted to keep you. 

Mark you and bite you and claim you for himself. 

Choso reached out, his large, ringed fingers lightly wrapping around your neck as he pulled you closer, pressing his mouth against yours again as he let the smoke lazily unfurl inside of you. 

And the smile on his face was nothing short of sleazy as he felt another gush of slick escape through the now translucent material of your tights.

“Mhhhn. Easyy there,” he all but drawled into your ear, his hand still firm against your throat. 

You couldn’t help but squeeze your eyes shut, your core twisting with embarrassment, shame and… arousal? 

He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your neck, before resting the joint between your lips as he uses his other hand to lift the material of your tights higher, drawing the fabric taught to enunciate the folds and dips of your pussylips underneath. 

He sucked a heavy breath in, his dick twitching at the sight of the soaked fabric, your quivering lips, and the impressively large dark spot that you were making on his pants just from kissing alone. 

He was such a fucking goner.

“‘M not even close to done with ya yet,” he breathed, his chest starting to rise and fall almost erratically. “Not even close to provin’ to you…” his glassy eyes were slowly growing wild as his brain seemed to register something.

“Proof… You wanted proof, babygirl?” His low voice came out rough and partly delirious. He didn’t even give you a chance to speak before he’s using his large hand to cup your sex, the heat of his palm against you making you clench in anticipation. 

You could feel your heartbeat throbbing in your pussy, pounding to a beat almost similar to his name.

Cho-so. Cho-so. Cho-so. 

“I’ll show ya’ proof-” 

And then he’s riiiipping the flimsy fabric of your tights apart, until your bare cunt lay fully on display before him. 

“-And you’re gonna take it. ” 

You didn’t even have a chance to respond before he’s pushing you down, down, down until your upper body rested against the cushions of his couch. 

He leaned forward, holding the dying joint to your lips, letting you take another hit before he finished it off, taking one long drag before crushing the roach into the ashtray. 

You try to keep the smoke inside of you for as long as you can, letting it settle in your lungs and course through your blood. 

And it seemed like he was of a similar mindset as you. 

Except, instead of exhaling into the already hazy air of his living room, he’s leaning down, until his flushed face is nestled between your damp thighs, his tattooed nose pressed firmly against your exposed clit, and his soft mouth latching onto your drenched  pussylips as he blows the smoke inside you for yet the second time that night. 

Your eyes squeezed shut, kiss-bitten lips tugged between your teeth, and cheeks flushed a sensual shade of rouge.

Everything was just so incredibly warm.  

“Choso–!” 

“Haah– this what ya’ wanted all along right? You just wanted me.” He’s lapping you up, licking fat, messy stripes against your folds, talking against your pussy almost breathlessly. “Say it. Say that you just want me. That you just need me.”

And your jaw is hinging, mouth parting, the words forming at the tip of your tongue–

Squeellchhh~ 

“Yess! Good girl! Such a good fuckin’ girl.” 

It’s only then that you realize he was never even talking to you to begin with - in fact, he wasn’t just talking against your pussy, but to it.

You moaned, your chest heaving, your skin buzzing with every touch of his fingers and every lick by his tongue. You squirmed as he draagged his piercing through your folds, the smooth metal tracing a cool path on your blazing skin. 

You could hear the sound of your blood pounding loud in your ears now, your heartbeat wild in your chest. Everything felt like too much, and not enough, all at the same time. 

“M-more, Cho. Need more.” You panted out, your glassy eyes staring back up at him pleadingly. 

“That so?” He grunted, the words reverberating throughout your cunt as he spoke between your lips. 

You nodded, a tear slipping from your eye as the heat in your belly grew. 

“Then get louder.”

And there was absolutely nothing that could’ve prepared you for when he pressed his pierced tongue against your clit, letting the metal ball press firm as he plunged his thick, ringed fingers inside of you, fucking into your tightness, pumping in and out and in and out, hitting and pressing and massaging that sensitive lil’ bundle of nerves deep within your velvety pussy. And you’re gasping shamelessly, your breah hitching and your back arching and your voice breaking as he’s fucking his fingers impossibly deeper, crooking them up until you saw stars. 

You could feel yourself beginning to cream around him, your juices messily splattering across his maw. 

And the way he was staring up at you had your tummy twisting in on itself, the unyielding heat pooling in your pussy growing hotter and hotter. 

He stared at you through glassy eyes and heavy lids, his cheeks flushed the prettiest shade of pink, sweat running down his temples, and his warm tongue swirling his name onto your clit in agonizing lil’ loops. 

Cho-so, Cho-so, Cho-so~

It was divine. It was hot. It was messy and wet and so fucking good.  

You began to chant his name like it was the only one you knew, like you forgot your own entirely, like you didn’t even fucking care  – because all that did matter was the wet sounds of his mouth sucking your clit and the squelching of your pussy as it echoed throughout the heavily smoke-filled room. 

And you were doing so well, crying his name on both your lips, that he didn’t ever want to stop. 

So, it nearly broke him when he had to release your clit with a little paah~ 

He leaned back, one of his hands still fucking his fingers inside of you as the other worked on unbuttoning his pants. His rhythm faltered for only a fraction of a second as he tugged aside his briefs, releasing his cock with a heavy thump! against his hard abdomen. 

And…

Holy shit. 

Your wide eyes ogled at him as your mind fully fucking short-circuited. 

He was large. 

He was pierced. 

And he was inked. 

You let in a small gasp, your glassy eyes trying to take it all in: the tattoos that wrapped around his base, the sheer fatness of his girth, the angry veins that climbed up his cock, and the glinting metal on the underside of his shaft. 

Another warm gob of slick slipped languidly past your lips, making a trail through your soaked folds before finding home on the damp couch cushions below.

And a burst of pride swelled in Kamo Choso’s chest at the way you were looking at him, at the way your pretty pussy was crying to him: so cute, so pathetic, so needy. 

He swatted his hand against your swollen cunt, relishing in the little aah~ that escaped your kiss-bitten lips. 

“You’ve been doin’ so well, babygirl,” he breathed. 

And you were so dazed, so stoned and blissed out that all you could do was whimper in response. 

Slowly, he pulled his ringed fingers out of you, his hand and wrist soaked fully in your release. He hummed, a proud smile pulling across his features as he languidly wiped your juices over his already leaking cock, before slowly, teasingly jerking himself off. 

It was transfixing, to say the least – watching as he gripped himself at the base, his heavy dick bobbing as he pumped himself, pushing thick pearls of pre-cum up, up, up through his slit. 

His breath stuttered as you reached out, curiously tracing your fingers along the underside of his shaft, pausing his ministrations. 

“I thought…” you began, your eyes locked onto where the veins on his dick pulsed in anticipation. “I thought you still had somethin’ to prove to me?” And your eyes were wide and doe-like as you menacingly spread his gooey pre all over his throbbing tip.

“Oh I do, don’t I,” he drawled, leaning over your body, caging you in, as his hips dipped down to meet against yours. “How could I even forget.”  

And then he’s slipping his cock against your soaked folds, coating himself further in your slick, rolling his hips so that you could feel him, all of him, from base to tip. 

You mewled at the sensation of his heavy dick pressed against you, using you, and the metal of his piercing meanly rubbing past your pulsing clit. 

“There ya go,” he crooned, his mouth licking hot stripes by your ear. “Jus’ like that now. I like it when you're loud f’me.”

And he keeps his pace, rubbing against you, letting the weight of his leaking tip tease lightly against the tightness of your hole, before retreating, always retreating, slipping and sliding against you in painstaking loops. 

You could almost cry. 

You could almost scream. 

And then you’re clawing at his back, at his hair. Digging crescents into his shoulders. Begging him to go. Begging him to do something. Begging him to fuck you. 

And the grin that formed on his face was positively wicked. 

“Deal.”

And then he’s presssingg his thick cockhead against your entrance, the cool metal of the piercing rubbing against your warm lips, as you slowly began to swallow his tip whole.

You’re gasping, your hole stretching to accommodate for his girth, for the extra metal that he wore on his skin.. 

“Holy fu–” his eyes screwed shut, his breath ragged, and his chest rising and falling erratically at the sensation of your warm, gooey walls wrapping around him in an overwhelming kiss, squishing and massaging against the sensitive underside of his tip.

He could’ve nutted right then and there, your wet pussy squeelching as you squeezed around him. 

For a moment, he forgot how to breathe.

“Fuck, you’re just a cruel lil’ thing, aren’t ya?” 

And you don’t even have time to respond, don’t even have time to think, because he’s forcing himself in, spearing your gummy walls apart, burrowing his dick deep within you until it felt like you could feel the metal of his piercing practically smooching against your cervix.

Your eyes roll back into your head, the air feeling as if it had been knocked from your lungs from the sheer length of him. 

“Haah~ knew my baby could do it f’me,” his deep voice cracked, his glassy eyes wild as he gripped firmly onto your hips. He started to buck into you, fucking himself deeper and deeper, until all you could hear was his skin slapping against yours as he molded your pussy to the shape of him, rubbing his cockhead against your g-spot savagely, ruthlessly, animalistically. 

“Knew you’d be able to take it,” he was grunting now, his words choppy and he veins on his neck popping from the sheer force of his dick pounding against your cunt. “Knew you’d feel this good while I prove to ya how much I fuckin’ like ya.”

Your traitorous heart swelled at his words, your tummy fluttering, pleasure building, and your pussy gripping onto his cock like a lifeline. 

His pierced mouth found yours again, his tongue meeting yours in a messy french. Drool started to spill from your lips as his pace quickened, the wet sound of his balls smacking against your soaked cunt filling the hazy air around you. Everything was getting hotter, stickier, clumsier. His hips were beginning to stutter, and his breaths were coming out in short, quick pants. 

And his tip just kept pressing exactly into that spot you needed most, the smooth metal of his piercing rubbing your nerves in ways that had your toes curling, skin tingling, and head absolutely reeling. 

And you could feel it – your legs trembling, your ears ringing, the absolute peaks of your orgasm rippling and running through your body in overwhelming waves as his fat, leaking cock fucks into your womb. 

“Shit–I’m–” his jaw tensed, his muscles flexing as he willed himself not to cum. 

His dick was almost halfway outside of your gooey hole when you blinked up at him, teary eyed. 

“C-Cho…” you were barely coherent, sputtering and gasping. “More.” And then you’re wrapping your legs around him, locking him in, pressing him flush against you, pushing his cock back inside you, refusing to let him go. “Need more proof,” you whispered. 

And oh, of course he had to oblige. 

Especially for you. 

Especially like this. 

“Yes, babygirl” was all he could breath out as he messily fucked you through your orgasm, pumping his cock in and out and in and out of your squelching pussy. 

He watched, entranced, as he could see the soft bulge of himself in your tummy from where his dick was buried within you. 

It was just all too much, too warm and soft and wet and tight, that his vision turned blurry, his lungs squeezing, and his chest heaving, as his thick, ropey cum forcefully painted your womb white, stuffing you full. 

And, despite the absolute mess, he tenderly pressed a kiss to your temple, letting his mouth rest against your skin as he shallowly fucked his seed inside you, riding through the peaks of his own high.

For a moment, the two of you just stayed like that, his body warm as you breathed in each other’s air.

“Stay tonight?” His voice was soft, almost uncertain. 

Your heart tugged against your ribs. 

“Okay.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

You snuck out of his bed before he had the chance to wake.

You blamed it on work. On responsibility. On the long list of reasons that made leaving feel like the right thing to do.

It was for the best, you kept repeating to yourself.

The two of you had been stoned last night. Perhaps even a little crossed. Those were all facts. 

And this was not your first hook-up. You knew how it always went. You knew that by the time he would wake, you’d see it on his face: the embarrassment, the awkward realization, and the forced post-sex niceties

You knew how it worked – so why risk spoiling a beautiful(ly perverted) memory? 

Your heart squeezed, and your stomach twisted into an uncomfortable knot.

It was nice, for what it was worth. 

Your thoughts were a blur as you hurried back to your apartment, too focused on putting distance between yourself and the warmth you’d left behind. And it wasn’t until you sat down at your desk that you noticed your phone was still dead, its screen dark and lifeless in your hand.

He never charged it. 

You sighed, plugging the device into power as you began to ready yourself for the work day ahead.

And it was only after you finished making yourself a cup of coffee and settling down into your chair when your phone finally lit up. 

.

.

3 missed messages from “Sugu”

1 missed call from “Sugu”

9 missed messages from “UTAHIME <33”

21 missed messages from “Gojo (Block L8r)”

5 missed calls from “Shokkkkko”

1 missed message from Unknown Number. 

Oh?

You pressed into the latest message.

.

. 

Unknown (01:07):  txt me when u wanna make it permanent. X

Your brow furrowed as you read the text again.

The hell did that even mean?

You glanced up, pondering the message until your eyes briefly caught your own reflection in the mirror across from your desk.

And there, just visible above the collar of your shirt, was a swirl of dark red ink peeking through the fabric.

Your breath hitched quietly.

Slowly, you hooked a finger beneath your collar and pulled it down, revealing tidy, elegant, deliberate strokes. 

脹相の

...

"Choso’s"

a/n: apologies if this got poopy this was totally meant to be a lot shorter than i made it. arf.

tag list: @rinreena, @hailsworld00, @crybabymina, @porcelaiinedoll

[mimuju]

choso hates your vibrator ! (ｰ̀⤙ｰ́ )

choso has developed a very specific grudge against your vibrator.

it started when he found it by accident—tucked in the drawer beside your bed, pink and unassuming, looking about as threatening as a tube of lip balm. he picked it up, turned it over in his hands, pressed the button once. it buzzed to life with a cheerful little hum, and he just… stared at it. like it had personally offended him.

now he watches it. when you’re not home, when you’re in the shower, when you’re asleep beside him. he doesn’t touch it again, but he thinks about it. a lot.

"it’s not fair," he says one night, lying on his back with his arm behind his head. you’re scrolling on your phone, half-listening.

"what isn’t fair, cho?"

"that thing. it makes you cum in two minutes. i counted."

you pause, lowering your phone. "you counted?"

"yeah." he sounds genuinely upset about it. "i timed it. two minutes and fourteen seconds. i take twelve. minimum."

you bite your lip to keep from laughing. "choso, are you jealous of my vibrator?"

he doesn’t answer right away, staring at the ceiling like it holds the secrets of the universe. "…maybe."

the next time you’re in bed together, he’s different. focused. like he’s studying for an exam and your body is the textbook. his fingers are careful, tender , mapping every spot that makes you twitch. "tell me when it feels good," he murmurs, watching your face. "like, exactly when."

you’re already breathless, your hips rolling into his hand. "fuck— cho…! r-right there—"

"okay. don’t move." he stays right where you told him, his fingers working in tight, precise circles, and when you cum, it’s with your hand fisted in his hair and his name on your lips.

he looks up at you after, his expression unreadable. "how long was that?"

you blink, still dazed. "i don’t know. five minutes?"

his brow furrows. "better. but not enough." he’s already reaching for the drawer. "can i see it again?"

you sit up. "choso, what are you—" he pulls out the vibrator, examining it like it’s a cursed object he needs to understand.

"i want to watch how it works. on you. so i can learn."

you stare at him. "you want to… study my vibrator. while it’s on me."

"please?" he says it so earnestly you almost can’t say no.

"…fine. but if this gets weird, i’m taking it back."

it doesn’t get weird. it gets filthy.

he has you on your back, legs spread, the vibrator pressed to your clit while he watches with rapt attention. every time your hips jerk, he notes it. every time you moan, he adjusts the angle. "there," he says, almost to himself. "that spot. you like it here, baby?"

you’re gripping the sheets, your thighs shaking. "ch-choso! i’m gonna—"

"not yet." he pulls the toy away, earning a whine from your kiss-swollen lips. "i’m learning," he explains, almost apologetic. "i need to see how long it takes. how your body changes. what happens right before you finish." he does it three more times—brings you to the edge, pulls back, studying your reactions like he’s dissecting a curse. by the fourth time, you’re sobbing, your voice hoarse, your mind fuzzy.

"choso, please, i can’t—"

"okay," he says softly, finally pressing the vibrator back where you need it. "you can cum now. i’ve got you, there’s my pretty girl. doing so well for me."

you cum so hard your vision whites out. when you come back to yourself, he’s lying beside you, the vibrator turned off and resting on his chest like a trophy. "seven minutes!” he says, sounding pleased with himself. "i beat it."

you laugh, weak and breathless. "you’re insane." he turns his head to look at you, his expression soft. "i just want to be good for you. better than that thing."

you roll onto your side, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. "you already are."

he’s quiet for a moment. then, "can i keep it? for research."

you groan, burying your face in the pillow. "you’re never living this down." he just smiles, small and proud, already planning his next experiment.

—

@sadisticslut666 perm - @whorishminds @throatgoatgeto @go-go-gadget-autism @thecrazyfangirlthings @grignardsreagent @strawberryshortcakkitty @naammiii @liasacountgothacked @annicishana @my-starlights @error-racoon-404 @afreakforyautja @cupidstrace @iam-souless @sindulgent666 @chewiebee @tojisballhair @ex1acy @palanggaaa @yourlocalcatscammer @ehcilhc @gravecyte @restingoasis @satorupi @laburantesdoll @sxpernova @thethyri @lostgeto @lilytrn @mikaari0 @chososballhair @nanamissilkytie @iwasabs @tojis-juicymantitys @laitifly @farylfordaryl @bl1ndv3lvet @booboobear-12 @6arcxm @sleeplessdancer @chloeee20 @deartoru @neptunezxx @ash273819 @sketchbonked @vanillakirstein @valberryboos @itimisu @livviaaaaa @kebablover @babyluvlol @audreytoru

[these-lovely-monsters]

[NSFW | 18+]

Characters: m!bear hybrid x f!reader

Content: bear trap, blood loss, injury recovery, possessiveness, sex, p in v, oral, knotting

#18 Hybrid from @ozzgin's Monstertober 2024 prompt list

⋆ ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ⋆

You're hiking through the forest when you stumble upon a bear hybrid caught in a bear trap. Although his body is human, he's massive and covered in fur with the head of a bear. He also has giant, claw-tipped paws which are too big and clumsy to free himself from the trap. He's bleeding profusely and in desperate need of help.

At first you're wary of this potentially dangerous stranger but he assures you that he won't hurt you. He seems kind enough and the idea of leaving him to die is out of the question for you so you decide to help him. Once you've carefully freed him from the trap, he sags to the ground in exhaustion, nearly passing out from the blood loss.

Realizing he'll need someone to take care of him while he recovers, you help him up, almost buckling from his weight. You let him lean on you as you stumble through the forest to his den, which is apparently pretty close by.

Over the next few days, you tend to his injury and feed him fish that you catch from the stream nearby. During this time, you spend hours chatting and getting to know each other. You enjoy his company more than you should and he seems to grow equally enamored with you.

When he's fully recovered, he decides that words aren't enough repayment for all your help so instead he worships your body in thanks. Much to your delight, he spends the next few hours fucking you mercilessly on his knot and filling you up with his cum until you're a limp and sated puddle in his arms.

But he's not done with you yet. When your pussy becomes too sore from his massive cock, he eats you out instead. He can't seem to get enough as he tells you that your arousal is the most exquisite honey he's ever tasted. When he's finally worn himself out and you're barely coherent from all the orgasms, he tells you that he's never letting you go.

Congratulations, you now have a bear hybrid boyfriend. But you can't complain because he turns out to be the best partner you've ever had. He loves listening to you talk about everything and anything that pops into your mind. He cradles you in his massive arms when you're sad. He lays his heavy, warm body on top of you when you're anxious. He snarls at creeps who hit on you when you're out walking at night. He even brings you beautiful little gifts of stones and feathers that he finds when he's out hunting.

But best of all, he continues to fuck you roughly and possessively every night until you think you might die of pleasure. And then when he's done, he cleans you up like you're the most precious thing in the world, whispering sweet words of praise in your ear as you drift off to sleep.

Tip Jar :)

[momonster-writes]

Breeding mount male minotaur bull x fem y/n

You see an ad that pays really nicely to help with a farms breeding program. No skills were nesscary, you just had to turn up, lend a hand and you'd be be paid for each load that takes.

Easy money you think. Help a couple of horses or sheep copulate with some other horses and sheep and you would be paid enough to pay rent for the next year.

So imagine your surprise when you arrive at the farm only to be told to strip down and cleaned throughly, which you assumed maybe they just really needed santized hands working in the enviroment.

You only knew something was wrong when you were asked to take a pill and you did so without question, only to start feeling a little dizzy. Your pussy starting to feel a little hot as you could feel yourself starting to drip.

You were heaved on to some kind of mount, your arms and legs spread and tied, for your 'safety.'

It was only when the large bull like minotaur with large horns and the biggest cock you've ever seen, already slightly erect and twitching was brought out, that you realized YOU were the breeding program.

The pill they gave you was a relaxant of some kind, that made you all nice and slick to take this beasts length. Your pussy already twitching in excitment as you watched his large cock swing as he walked towards you.

You felt his hands on your ass, squeezing you before he leaned over, his back pressing to yours, weighing you down slightly before he slowly starts to push his cock into your tight hole.

You let out a moan and squeeze around him, causing him to huff and nuzzle the back of your neck.

"That's it, good girl..." Oh hearing that makes your walls practically flutter around his dick as he starts to thrust in and out slowly at first.

His pace eventually quickens though, slamming into you hard enough you could feel the mount moving under you, creaking under the pressure as he ruthlessly used you like his fleshlight.

And then you'd feel your womb get full as his hot load spills out inside of you.

He stays in you for a while, making sure his load is nice and snug in you before he pulls out, your pussy twitching as you feel his load leak out and down your legs.

Your mind was hazed, you were groaning and felt amazing. And you couldn't wait to get paid.

You asked to get untied and the minotaur looks confused for a moment before shaking his head.

"Oh didn't they tell you? They gotta make sure you're defiently going to have a calf."

As he says that you see the door swing open, another minotaur standing at the door, his dick already fully erect and twitching with eagerness. He had been riled up from hearing your moans and he needed you now.

Just behind him you could see a line of them, all waiting there turn with your pussy as they fondled themselves.

Farm work is hard work.

[monstersflashlight]

omg now that person has got me back in my ghost era

imagine you’re playing with yourself in front of a mirror and then suddenly something invisible grabs you. your legs are yanked apart and long story short, it makes you watch how your pussy gapes and drools around the ghost’s massive cock.

Kinky invasion

Ghost x ghost x fem!reader || free use, dub-con, size kink, sharing is caring

You know it’s not very lady-like to be playing with yourself in front of the mirror. You are pretty sure there’s some kind of sin related to this one, probably lust or gluttony or something, because you can’t stop staring at your hot center parting for the glass dildo you are using in yourself.

You know it’s filthy, but the thought of somebody watching you the way you are watching yourself makes you gush around the dildo and makes your stomach contract as you get closer and closer to the edge. You see a shadow behind you, and you think it’s a trick of the light, too focused on your pleasure to mind whatever the fuck the bright light is.

But not two seconds later, you feel a caress in the inside of your thigh, and when you look down it feels like there’s something there, as if the air is somewhat distorted around your thigh. But like the perverted girl you are, you open your legs a bit further, fucking your pussy harder as you throw your head back and moan. You feel another light touch, this time to your side. And another on your back. And another against your naked breasts.

“What the-?”

You don’t finish the question before the air around you gets electrified, hands appearing out of nowhere and holding your legs far apart. Two more hands holding yours behind your back as you watch your dildo being pulled out of you in a rush. You don’t have time to react before there’s something big pressing inside of you.

Across you, there’s nothing in the mirror, but you can’t fight against the restrains as a dick as big as you’ve ever felt, as big as your biggest dildo, gets pushed inside of you and you are fucked within an inch of your life. The pace is punishing, and the sight before you is more than obscene, is almost sinful as your pussy is fucked open over and over. You can see your pink insides as the ghostly cock destroys your pussy.

And when you open your mouth to scream, you feel the tip of another one being pushed down your throat. They aren’t careful, they aren’t soft, they fuck you with everything they have and a bit more as you sit there, completely overwhelmed by pleasure as two ghosts have their way with you.

By the time you come, they are fucking you like machines, your throat feels raw and your pussy is gushing juices out of you with each thrust. They aren’t looking for your pleasure, but that doesn’t stop you from coming either way.

You feel the air crackling with more energy, literal sparks flying around you as you feel the dick in your mouth throb as it releases in the back of your throat, his hands releasing your arms as they grab your head and push you against his invisible groin so they empty himself as far as possible. You observe how your mouth is obscenely open, your drool dripping around the edges of your lips and warm come filling your throat until you are coughing and he’s pulling back.

But they aren’t done.

The one between your legs grabs forcefully your hips. He’s so rough you can see the imprints of ghostly hands against your love-handles as they bury themselves hard enough to hit your cervix and they fill you up to the brim. You watch mesmerized how the come drips down around his dick, lining his shape before he releases you completely.

You stare into the mirror as come drips from your chin and pussy, and wonder how can you make that happen again.

[tycrine]

enjin x fem!reader.

a/n . made this in a hurry lol so not proofread. i just really fw enemies to lovers troupe yall and GOD enjin is so fine. i need him sooo bad bro 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 no hate sex sorry im too horny for that

cw . MDNI; enemies to lovers, smoking mentions, more smut than plot, MARATHON SÉX, oral(f rec.) swearing, dirty talking, unprotected sex, SOMNOPHILIA, tummy bulges, creampies, dubcon(?), overśtimulation, mating press and more, pussy drunk, breeding, squirting, big hands=big dick fight me, also enjin just loves your pussy lol

wc . 8.4k

——

seriously. ever since you’ve both met, you guys just blatantly hate each other. exchanging snarky comments every time you cross paths.

“you damn shit-head!” you scoff, crossing your arms and turning to semiu. “why do i have to pair up with this wannabe yakuza old ass man?”

“not like i was dying to see you too, trashy brat.” enjin sucks his teeth.

semiu raises her voice, “enough! you guys can curse each other to death after you’ve defeated the trash beast. you two are the only ones available at the moment, so do your duty.”

even though, you two have always hated each other’s guts, you’ve never been in each other’s way during work. you both don’t speak much while fighting but still cooperate almost perfectly.

but the snarky comments return the moment the trash beast starts disintegrating.

“can’t believe you’re still able to keep up, old man” you look at him over your shoulder. honestly, he doesn’t even look that old but you just like calling him that to piss him off.

he puts one hand on his pocket and another, holding his unbreaker against his shoulder. “huh? were you speaking or a trash beast? oh wait, what even is the difference anyway.” he laughs under his breath, looking down at you.

you grit your teeth “you-!”

he hovers his hand around his ear and bends slightly, “you tryna say something? sorry, can’t hear you from down there.”

well you were definitely shorter than him but it’s his for being built like a damn pole! before you could say anything, the supporters come back with the car.

he’s literally isn’t your type nor you are his’. there was a time when you were both reporting back to semiu and she jokes about you two being lovebirds for always being at each other’s throats.

“hah?!” your face contorts in annoyance.

“who would even like him, he’s not even my type!”

“who would even like her, she’s not even my type!”

you both say it in sync and look at each other. you cross your arms at him, “oh shut up, shit-head.”

“you know, you’re less unlikeable when your trashy mouth is shut.”

you grab his collar and bring his face down to your level. “i would rather be a trash beast’s food than be liked by you!”

semiu just sighs in exasperation and always ends up stopping you two. it really was like a cat and dog relationship when it came to you both.

——

recently, trash beasts started to appear more near the cities. you assumed it was because of the abduction of rudo, along with the other cleaners with him which happened a couple days back.

you, enjin, rudo, zanka and riyo were sent to some deserted location for investigation of the rapid appearances of the trash beasts.

when everyone was observing the place, some while later, everyone started to fall and eventually got separated due to the trembling of the infrastructure.

and lucky you. you got stuck with the person you least wanted to. you desperately try to look around for another presence but it’s only you, him and the rubbles.

you tried not to show the annoyance in your face. enjin hits the floor with the tip of his umbreaker and sucks his teeth. “ugh, how under did we fall?”

you were annoyed. by the situation you’re in. by him. then how did you get into a situation where you’re now stuck in a locker like congested place? well, when you both were desperately trying to find a way out, using your jinkis, the trembling started again. debris falling, you don’t know about him but you definitely got hit and became unconscious.

when you woke up, the ceiling was way too near. weird. you were moving your hand to find your jinki but when you couldn’t feel it anymore, you immediately try to sit up just to get your forehead hit by the ‘ceiling’. then you hear a laugh and that’s when you turn your head towards the noise, lying back again. it’s him.

enjin put his hand over his hand trying to control his laughter. “there’s no way, you’re that dense.”

thats when you start to notice that the ceiling wasn’t too near. you were stuck in what looks like a big locker with no door in sight. you bang at the ceiling desperately. “what the fuck?! where are we?!”

enjin blatantly speaks, putting both his arms under his head. “dunno”

you almost wanted to hit him because of his so carefree demeanour. “where’s your umbreaker?! use it and get us out!”

“so demanding, trashy princess.”

“huh?!”

“i don’t have it with me. think ‘dat lil earthquake got it separated. or maybe the raiders are involved too, which’s why we’re stuck in this now.”

great. both of you don’t have your vital instruments.

you exhale audibly, “how the fuck are you so carefree?!”

he turns his head slightly, with a sarcastic smug face. “you should try it sometimes too, it’s called staying calm.”

just when you were about to reply, he continues. “besides, what’s panicking gon’ do anyways?”

you suck up your anger, because he is right. panicking won’t do anything but drain your energy. you wish you could just punch out of this shitty congested place but unfortunately you weren’t really that physically gifted. without your vital instrument, you actually didn’t have strong strength.

you huff, “my day just couldn’t get any worse. now i’m stuck with a shit-head. i just wanna get out of this place!”

“geez, do you ever shut up?”

you turn at him. “oh i would, if-” suddenly the world moves upside down. well, its obviously the box you’re in which got moved. and because of it, enjin is now on top of you. he uses his arm to support his weight so that you don’t get crushed by his body.

for a moment, you were silent but then you groaned, “fuck, get off me! you-!”

then the world turns upside down again and your bodies shift due to the movement. a roar could be heard outside, probably of a trash beast. you were lying on your chest, your head striked up at the noise.

you didn’t even notice until you heard a grumble beneath you, that this time you were on top of him. his face was buried under your..chest!?

your body jolts and you almost shriek, “you-!” you immediately move, now your face is facing him instead of your.. chest. your eyes squint at him as your body squirms, “you fuckin’ per-!”

but he quickly covers your mouth with one hand and the other resting at your waist, pushing it down against him and to stop your squirming. “shh, y/n.”

and you shut up too. it’s not usual for him to call you by your name unless it’s really serious. he moves his head to the side, trying to observe the sound.

i guess staying silent for a while has its perks too because right now, you’ve come to finally notice alot of his features as you were staring down at him. like how his hands are literally as big as your face, how there is a scar on the side of his head caused by who knows what. he never really talked about it. you realised his other hand placement too, it almost made your body shudder but you kept your cool. looking up close, enjin was actually really attractive, you couldn’t lie.

you also notice the ink on his neck too which continues further but gets hidden by his clothing. now that you think about it, you’ve never seen him shirtless. how far does the tattoo continues? how would he look shirtless?- your thoughts are snapped back when you hear a familiar creaking noise, it was from enjin’s choker.

enjin moves his hand from your mouth to his choker and you hear zanka from the other end.

“wahh!! finally! i was trying so hard to reach you, enjin.”

“have you found the others?”

“well, except y/n. riyo and rudo are with me.”

enjin looks at you for a second before looking away again. “oh, huh. she’s with me.”

“okay but where are you?! we found your vital instruments and got worried that maybe you two..- forget it.”

“we’re actually stuck in some sort of big box?” enjin moves his other hand to bang above.

“wait. do that again. i think i can hear you.”

enjin bangs harder this time and in a few minutes, you both hear all three of them calling out your names. this time you help in banging too and they notice it right away.

“enjin?! y/n?!” zanka shouts.

you both respond, shouting back.

“okay.. move aside, i’ll get you out of there!” zanka starts pointing his stick to that box and proceeds to destroy one side.

and right away too, enjin moves his body to the side along with you. was he.. shielding you? before you can think more, the box breaks and you guys get out of it.

riyo comes to you and asks you if you were alright as you take back your vital instrument from zanka.

you guys immediately get back to the headquarters, wasting no time. during the drive back, everyone start sharing of what happened and that it was a trash beast who had a vital instrument with its core. but you were quiet, only humming and responding in short words. when riyo asks you onto why you were so quiet, you just brushed her off saying you were tired.

but the truth was, you were just replaying what happened between you and enjin in your mind over and over.

after reporting back and freshening up, you were on your way to the cafeteria for dinner. thats when you overhear something coming from the door beside you.

the door was slightly ajar, you were curious so you went ahead and peeked through. it was zanka, enjin and semiu.

“i don’t get it, you could’ve literally just punch that box yourself and get out. why didn’t you?” zanka was standing, confused.

while enjin was on a sofa, leaned back. one arm behind his head and another hand holding his cigarette as he takes a puff. “huh? didn’t feel like it.”

semiu sat on a chair, reading her usual ‘magazines’ “or maybe, it’s because of y/n” she shrugs, her eyes still glued on the paper.

enjin almost chokes, “wha—” then he clears his throat “dunno’ what you’re talkin’ about”

you step back, rewinding whatever you witnessed in your head. he could’ve just gotten you two out but he didn’t? why? because of.. you? nah. there’s no way. hah.. right?

later that night, when you finally got to bed. you noticed you were feeling weird. you were acting weird even. during dinner, you would look over to enjin alot. hopefully he didn’t catch on to that or else he would make fun of you. you were starting to feel something weird in your chest whenever you thought of him. or even feel your face heating up when you remembered the way he put his hands on you.

were you..actually starting to like him?! no- no- theres no way, you think to yourself as you laugh under your breath. you then just shrug it off, thinking everything will go back to normal tomorrow as you drift to sleep.

you were deadass wrong. every time you saw enjin, you would feel your heart flutter. you couldn’t even get yourself to be creative with your usual exchange with him. you really could just muster up a scoff or roll your eyes at him because inside, your heart was literally jumping like anything.

in your eyes, he started to look so attractive to you, oh god. you hated it. why does he suddenly look so hot? why do you suddenly want him so bad? you were starting to hate the way felt around him so you finally decided to distance yourself from.

yeah.. thats right! the feeling will eventually go away. now you just need to make sure to keep strict distance from him.

and so you started to slowly keep minimum interactions to no interactions at all.

but enjin isn’t dumb. at first, he thought it was your usual ignorance but he began to notice it wasn’t ignorance. it was avoidance.

the way you would quickly eat your food and leave the cafeteria whenever he entered, the way you would quickly walk off when you noticed him, even while chatting with someone. the way you wouldn’t even throw your usual insults at him. hell, you wouldn’t even look at him anymore. it ticked him off.

he really couldn’t understand why you were acting that way. he first assumed maybe you were mad at him but the way you are, if you were really mad at him, you would just grab his collar and throw some insults at his face. he couldn’t stop thinking about you, did he do something? why were you really avoiding him that much? he had to know what was really on with you.

——

after your cleaning duty ended early, you quickly make your way to your room. and also looking out for enjin to avoid him at all cost.

after you reach, you close your room’s door behind and put your vital instrument on the small table right beside your door without even looking further into your room due to exhaustion.

you stretch your arms, sighing. then a voice catches you off guard.

“gon’ tell me what’s wrong?”

you jolt, turning to the source of sound immediately. your voice trembles, barely coming out as a whisper.

“en- ..enjin—?”

you didn’t even notice him sitting on your bed, now standing up and slowly walking towards you.

your first instinct was to leave—to run away. you didn’t wanna face him. you couldn’t face him.

you quickly turn to the door, moving your hand to the knob but enjin is just as quick as you, strongly pressing his palm on the door, right at the level of your head, making you unable to make your escape.

he was right behind you, his other hand joins. now, caging you between him and the door. your grip tightens at the door knob, you couldn’t think of what to do next.

“y/n,” his tone was serious yet still soft, “look at me.”

you slowly turn, still unable to face him. your eyes were glued on the floor and your heart beat started pacing. suddenly, it felt like all the feelings you had suppressed, started to come out all together at once.

“i said look at me.” his tone was more demanding now. the vibration of his deep voice sending shivers down your spine.

then you finally muster up the courage to look at him, trying not to spill your emotions, you bluntly say, “why are you in my room?”

“you know exactly why.” he was quick to respond.

“i don’t. i’m tired right now. can you leave?” you break off the eye contact, looking to your side.

“no.”

“—not until you answer why you’ve been acting like this.”

you raise an eyebrow, “like what? i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

enjin’s eyebrows furrowed while staring down at you, why were you pretending to not know what he‘s talking about? but he was still patient with you. “avoiding me ‘nd all. you think i didn’t notice?”

you were silent.

“you think i didn’t notice the way you always finished your food quickly when i entered the cafeteria? or the way you would leave a room whenever i showed up? the way you don’t throw insults at me anymore whenever i’m even 5 feet near you? hell, you don’t even look at me anymore. you hate me that much, huh?”

your heart reacts when he says ‘hate’. of course you don’t hate him. the way you felt for him is way beyond that.

“i…don’t hate you.” you mutter. fidgeting with the hem of your outfit, your eyes glued to it.

“then why all this? hm?” he bends, his face coming close to yours.

“..i—” you heave.

“i’m not leaving until you tell me.”

“what’s wrong?” “why?”

why? why? why? the constant questioning starts making you restless and your head hurt. your eyebrows furrow in frustration and then, you finally burst. taking in a long breath, closing your eyes shut as you burst out.

“FUCK! IT’S BECAUSE I LIKE YOU, DAMN IT!”

for a while, it felt amazing. to finally let your true feelings out. you could feel the adrenaline rush in you as your heart raced fast.

you slowly open your eyes to look up and see enjin’s reaction. and to your surprise, he was no longer caging you. his hands were to his side with his back now straightened as he looked at you, surprised. then he suddenly bursts out laughing,

“what the- so that’s it?” as he’s trying to contain his laugh.

your face was heating up with embarrassment, was he seriously laughing at your feelings?! you felt like you shouldn’t have said anything at all and the urge to just punch him in the face was just burning in you to the point you didn’t even realise you started tearing up.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN ‘THAT’S IT’?! ugh! i knew i shouldn’t have said anything, you assh..—”

in a blink, he grabbed your chin and pulled you into a kiss. shutting you up.

huh?

what?

did he just kiss you? why? your brain actually stopped. you couldn’t understand why—

he pulls away, a string of saliva connecting your lips. you stared blankly at his face. he was smiling with a softened gaze on you, wiping the fallen tear off your cheek with his thumb.

“i wasn’t laughing to ridicule your feelings…” he mutters, staring into your eyes.

“i’m just glad.. it’s not something seriously bad for which you seriously stopped talking to me.” he caresses your face, putting a strand of your hair behind your ear.

‘glad’? why? what the hell was happening?

“..what?” you mouthed, barely a whisper.

he chuckles at your reaction. finding it cute. “in other words, i like you too, trashy princess.”

when you heard his words, your heart started pounding so fast that it felt like it was gonna come out of your mouth. did he really just say that?

all you could manage was a ‘huh?’ as the heat crept up on your neck.

enjin repeats, this time emphasising each word. “i said, i. like. you. that better, hm?”

since you weren’t responding, he speaks up again. “i’m sorry, okay? i didn’t mean to make you cr—euughh!” you had punched him in his stomach.

you let out a relieved sigh, “now i feel better.”

he clenches the place where you had knuckled him, “g-guess, i deserved t-that..”

“well, since you have your answer now. you can leave.” you start walking past him but he catches your wrist, pulling you to his chest, pressing you against him.

“pushing me away already, baby?” he teases, in a low, raspy tone. grazing his thumb against your bottom lip.

you look up into his eyes, blinking. “w-well…i need to f-freshen up—”

“there’s no need for that.” and he crashes his lips onto yours. you mumble his name during the kiss, but he just deepens the kiss. his one hand holds your face and the other starts roaming around your body, slipping in and making contact with your bare skin which makes you shudder.

he pulls away and start peppering your jaw with kisses, slowing moving to your neck. he grips the back of your head, tangling his big hands into your hair to get a better angle, then he starts lapping his tongue against your neck, sucking on the skin. at the same time, he moves his hand from your hair and now gripping around your waist.

you tremble, unconsciously titling your head to give him more access. “e-enjin…—”

your hand grips at his red sweatshirt. you whine when you feel his other hand, caressing the fabric of your bra and then—he grabs one of your breasts, squeezing it, making you yelp.

enjin hums, his voice vibrating against your neck. “yeah, keep making those cute noises, princess.”

he latches off your neck and attacks your lips again, swallowing every whine of yours. you wrap your arms around his tattooed neck, occasionally gripping and he puts his hands over your thighs, slightly pushing them to lift you. you understand and jump and he catches you immediately. carrying you like weighted nothing as you also wrapped your legs around his hip, your cunt grazing his growing boner.

after you guys reach the bed, he breaks the kiss quickly as he gently throws you on it. hurriedly joining you. he wastes no time on getting your clothes off. “fuck. wan’ taste you s’bad.”

he’s so impatient. but you’re no better. the moment you’re fully bare, you pull on his sweatshirt shyly.

“y-you too.”

enjin chuckles, “of course. anything for m’lady.” he pulls his sweatshirt off in one go, tossing it somewhere on the floor.

and that’s when you finally got to see him shirtless. your lip parts as your eyes follow every muscle, every ink, every design. like you’re engraving it in your mind. honestly, you were totally drooling at the sight. you knew enjin had muscles cause, duh, he’s strong but not this defined and toned.

enjin notices right away and teases, “better than you imagined, huh?”

you abruptly yelp a ‘yes’ which surprises enjin. so you’ve been fantasising about him?

“shit- can say the same for you too, baby.” he hovers over your body, kissing your neck, your collarbones and following it down right between valley of your breasts. he toys with one of your nipples with his finger while the other is getting kissed and licked. then he suddenly puts it in his mouth, playing with your nipple with his tongue while his hand pinches the other. “s’fucking perfect.”

you whine and whimper at the pain and pleasure you’re experiencing. cursing under your breath.

he finally lets go of your nipple with a ‘pop’ sound, looking at you as his hand starts moving down to your abdomen—to your pulsating cunt.

“y’know.” his index and ringer finger start playing with your pussy lips, spreading them open to press his middle finger on your clit which makes your body jolt. he pauses and chuckles when he notices how wet you were. “shit baby, you’re this wet just by kissing?”

you pout, “don’t t-tease…, shit head.” he laughs under his breath, your reaction were so fucking adorable to him.

“that day…when we were stuck in that stupid place, seeing you under me like that…” he continues, as he starts moving slow circles, making you hitch under your breath. “it was so fuckin’ hard to keep my dick calm.”

“knew it was wrong.” his index finger now joins, very slowly quickening his pace on your clit. “-wrong to think about you like that but fuck. you’re so hot. wanted to fold you and take you right there.”

now his fingers move down, to toy with your aching hole. “and then the next second, your perfect tits were on my face. these perfect tits.” he leans down to pepper kisses on them.

he was teasing you so much and you were starting to grow really impatient to the point you were moving your hips unconsciously to feel him inside you. “f-fuck, stop teasing…”

enjin smirks, watching you desperately try to grind yourself on his fingers. “impatient, are we?”

you just wanted something inside, your walls were clenching around nothing. “p-please…”

fuck. the way you were begging went straight to his dick. he slowly starts sliding his middle finger in and your warm, gummy walls were already sucking him in, easily.

he was agonisingly slow. pushing his inked finger in and out and making you whine. he then adds his index finger, this time stretching you out.

he hisses, “fuck, you’re s’tight. squeezing m’fingers like that.”

he started moving his fingers in you, curling it just right and making you moan. it didn’t take him long to find your sweet spot. every time he pushed his fingers, it hit your g-spot. you were frowning at the sensation—pleasure.

as if his fingers weren’t stimulating you enough, he pressed his thumb on your clit and started rubbing it. all you could do was grip the sheets and curse under your breath as he works his hand and whispers dirty things into your ear.

“this pussy’s singing f’me, baby.”

“you’re loving this, aren’t you? me playing with your pussy? by the guy you despised so much? now look at you. soaking my fingers and making a mess everywhere, s’pretty.”

“yeah, keep making those noises f’me.”

he quickened his pace and it didn’t take long for you to reach your high. not when he was stimulating you like crazy. you winced every time he curled his fingers to hit your g-spot.

“m’close, …enjin—ha…ah—” your hand moves to grip his muscular, tatted bicep. lightly digging your nails into his skin. it barely felt like a tingle to him. you were quivering and your heart paced fast, heat radiating from your body.

but just when you were about to come—he stops, you groan, glaring at him. “w-why’d you stop…?”

“wan’ you to cum in my mouth, baby. need to taste you s’bad.”

he moves down slowly, placing kisses on your stomach—to your abdomen and now to your puffy clit. and then licking a long stripe over your aching cunt, making your thighs shiver.

he started to rub circles on your clit with his tongue and sucked on it before shoving his tongue in, lapping up your insides and eating you out. he grumbles into your pussy, the vibrations reaching your spine.

“you—mhmm—taste s’good, s’sweet” he was literally making out with your pussy, slurping up all your juices. your soppy wet walls wrapped around his fat tongue, the way your cunt throbbed every time his nose pressed against your clit.

the sounds were so lewd and so obscene, it was filling the room along with your moans. if anyone had been passing by your door, you were sure the squelches would be loud enough to give away what was happening in the room. you were throwing your head back, eye lids closing on their own.

he pulls away, looking up at you. “look at me.” and you do, forcing your eyes open, squinting at him. “gooood girl, now watch me as i eat you out, m’kay?”

you didn’t even respond, you just gripped his hair and shoved him down in your pussy. he was surprised but you could feel him smirking, he proudly started to eat you out again.

he was loving every second of it, every inch of you, every sound you made, even the grip you had on his hair. he began to slowly grind him his hips against the bedsheets, trying to relieve himself. he was gripping your inner thighs so hard, it probably was gonna leave a handprint there.

“fuck—fuck—fuck… m’so close…en-enjin—” your grip tightens and your back arches as you feel your high again. you were bucking your hips onto him.

“d-don’t stop…” you began shivering. “o-ohh—” you started cursing under your breath, your voice breaking as you moan.

“thaaats it, baby. come on my tongue,” he coos, moving his thumb back to your clit.

and in the next moment, you cum. you couldn’t even utter a word as your eyes rolled over your head. all you could do was moan his name and whimper. blood rushing and filling your veins in pure ecstasy, making you feel light-headed.

enjin licked you clean, drinking every drop of your cum, not wasting anything. after he’s done, he gets up to kiss you, shoving his tongue in and making you taste yourself. “you did s’good, baby.” you just hum softly, with a half-lidded gaze.

after a while, when you’ve calmed down. you notice enjin pulling your blankets and unfolding it.

“what are you doing?” you stare at him, confused.

“you must be tired, right? rest up,” he smiles, placing the fabric over your bare body.

“and what about you?” you elbow yourself up.

“oh, me? i’ll go check up on zanka and rudo and then–”

“no.” you interject. “i meant…that.” you eye at the bulge in his sweats.

he understood what you were implying and chuckles under his breath. “it’s okay, babe. we’ll do it some other time. got no rubber on m’right now.” he holds your chin, bringing it close to him to kiss your forehead.

you frown, “i don’t care.”

enjin sighs, running his hand through his hair “that’s not how it works, princess.”

he made you feel so good and now he was just gonna leave with his painfully hard dick? you weren’t gonna let that happen. hell, you couldn’t even care less about some protection.

“so you’re just gonna get cold feet without fucking me?”

enjin blinks, “fuck. i want to but–”

“please.” you look up at him, with pleading eyes. the covers slipped off your body, revealing your tits. your nipples were turning hard due to the cold air brushing against them. “please, enjin”

your pleading was only making the situation worse. your words went straight to his already hard dick—and he was trying sooo hard to keep his gaze fixated on your eyes. he was really thanking heavens for peripheral vision cause he could still shamelessly stare at your tits indirectly.

“you sure?—”

“YES.” you respond immediately, “please enjin, wan’ you so bad—wan’ your cock—pleeease—i want you to fuck me—i need you to fuck me.” even you were surprised to what you were saying, you might as well be ovulating right now because you really wanted him bad.

enjin was surprised, the way you were actually begging like an absolute slut right now. he didn’t think you had that side of yours. so freaky—and he wasn’t minding it all. instead he was actually more intrigued by this new side of yours.

enjin licks his lips, “hard to say no when you ask this nicely—”

he grabs one of your tits, crashing his lips onto yours. he squeezes them hard making you yelp and he takes that opportunity to shove his tongue in. “wanna be my cockslut that bad, hm?”

then he breaks the kiss and quickly starts taking his sweatpants off, leaving him in his black boxers.

your mouth hung open, eyes wide open at the sight of his—gulp. he was big. holy fuck. waayy bigger than you thought. your eyes were following the shape of his dick print on his boxers.

enjin notices your reaction and chuckles, “keep that mouth hang open any longer and you’ll actually start drooling, princess.”

honestly, you were actually drooling without even seeing his dick yet. and suddenly something flashes in your mind.

one time when you were talking to semiu, talking about what kind of man gives big dick energy.

enjin overheard you two and joined, “i’m sure they all got good personalities, cmon.”

you rolled your eyes at him and scoffed, “oh shut up, i’m sure you got a small dick too.”

you were smiling inside, you probably hurt his ego real bad cause it’s true but to your surprise he was not at all offended, instead, he had a smug look on his face.

you blink, trying not to give away your surprised reaction and rolled your eyes at him again. he was just bluffing…for sure, …right?

and now that you’re seeing it with your own eyes—he wasn’t bluffing at all!

“wanna do the honours?” his fingers grazing at the band. you move, fingertips fumbling his waist band, you look up at enjin and he’s smirking down sleazily at you, watching your every movement. “go on,”

and you pull down his boxer—finally freeing him. his dick springs out immediately, also hitting your cheek before hitting his abdomen. red angry tip, already glistening in dripping hot precum. not only enjin was so long—but he was juuuust as thick, with enough veins at the right places.

“too small, eh?” and it seems enjin hasn’t forgotten that day as well. small? fuck no. you knew enjin was teasing you about that. you didn’t even realise how dry your mouth was until you gulped. “there’s n-no way, that’s gonna fit—”

he fully pulls off his boxers and starts leaning, laying your head properly on the pillow. he already positions himself and spreading your thighs apart, folding you into a mating press. “no–no–no. no running away now, princess.”

“you asked for this.”

“w-wait—mmmhp..!” he started rubbing his tip at your entrance, making your breath hitch.

he pressed your thighs more, making your knees touch your chest as he started to line himself. “we’ll make it fit, m’kay baby?” he coos, kissing your cheek.

you nod, and then—he pushes the tip in making you both hiss. by the time he put his whole tip in—he was out of breath. his eyebrows furrowing at the sensation – you were just so hot and soft. the way you were squeezing him so tight, he swears he was gonna cum right then.

“fuuuck, squeezing me s’tight. you tryna kill me?”

you nearly choked at how just his tip was stretching you out so much.

he slowly starts pushing himself more into your sloppy pussy, a sound of pleasure vibrating deep from his chest. he waited few moments each time he inserted an inch, making sure you were adjusting to his size.

the stretch was insane. your eyes began to shut and your eyebrows were frowning. you were literally gripping his tatted bicep so hard while your other hand went to cover your mouth to muffle your moans.

enjin notices and immediately holds your wrists to pin them above your head with one hand. “nah, don’t cover your pretty moans.”

when more than half his cock was in, he shoved the rest at once. filling you balls deep making him groan and suck his teeth. the bed dips as be rests his weight on top of your lower half.

your body jolts and you cry out, you were such a whimpering mess beneath him. you felt so full, clenching around him with your warm, gooey walls as his tip kissed your cervix making you squeal. “sh-shit, y-you’re so big–”

“oh ya, mama?” the deep sultry of his teasing voice making you even wetter. you were literally squeezing him as if you were trying to milk dry. he waits for awhile, letting you adjust before he starts pulling his cock out till the tip just to thrust it back inside. “fuuuckkk—you’re…s’t-tight”

enjin starts rutting his hips against you, pressing deep thrusts each time. the sound of skin slapping and wet squelches from your cunt was music to his ears. your voice cracking while moaning, telling him its too much and you couldn’t take it.

but he merely keeps going cause each time he pulled back, your greedy, sloppy pussy was swallowing him back like it belonged there. the pain from the stretch soon changed to pleasure, coiling something in your stomach. he moves his free hand to grab your face and kisses you deeply, swallowing all your whines.

“you– …you say you can’t take it, haaah, but look at you. takin’ me sooo well.”

“fuck.” and with a single hammering thrust, enjin’s forcing his swollen cock past all that slight resistance. his head falls, heaving out a shuddering groan.

his head was lolling but he still couldn’t stop his hips. he moved his hands to your thighs, pressing you down even more with his cock. each and every thrust made your stomach burn more and more. every slam of his hips, making you lose your mind. it was so intoxicating.

his dick was soo big, he hit your sweet spot without even trying. his red swollen tip was bruising your cervix. “o-ohhh..”

he looked at your fucked out state with half-lidded golden orbs which darkened at the sight of your watery eyes. you were looking like an angel to him, so pretty, so good.

you tighten around him even more as you started to feel your orgasm build up like a wall. your thoughts were long gone and you were just babbling out, the weird feeling in your stomach, close to breaking out. “sh-shit–shit–shit e-enjin you need to sto—” and before you could warn him, you cry out–squirting on his dick.

the clear fluid splashing out as he’s still thrusting into you, like a madman and then—he stops his hips, straightening his back to look at your spasming cunt. he was gasping—and you got worried immediately—did you just pee?—then he huffs, “fuck, baby—did you just squirt?”

you're bawling out from the euphoric pleasure and fear. “i- i’m sorry–”

“no–no–no–no, dont apologize, fuucck. why didn't you tell me you could squirt?”

you were confused but relieved he wasn't mad. “i... i d-didn’t know…”

enjin’s darting his eyes down to the thick little bulge that had started forming at your stomach - just the slightest movement of his mushroomy tip bumpin’ inside. and out. inside. and out. fuck. had he been missing out on this view for this long?

he's looking at you with a feral gaze, his golden orbs almost disappearing as he's pushing one hand down—to the bulge. “you can do that again, right? fuck, please. tell me you'll do that again.” he suddenly became just so desperate. you knew your answer wouldn't matter ‘cause he was determined to make you squirt on his dick again.

and then he’s pulling out and quickly turning you to your stomach, making your back arch up and pushing your head down to the pillow. you startle, at the sudden change in position—“what are you—”then enjin’s rubbing himself against your core before slipping his cock inside again, furiously-hard.

hips slamming against your ass, making you yelp at the sudden sensation of being stretched. he ruts into you, leaning into your ear. “need you–” thrust. “to–”thrust. “squirt again–” thrust. “cmon, ma”

your lips are quivering, legs shaking, wanting to fall any moment. all you could only muster up were sobs of pleasure, with your hands tightly clenching on the pillow.

he hisses, grabbing your ass. your syrupy walls were taking him so well. he slaps his hand onto one cheek, leaving a flushed mark. “ohh, ‘tis pussy’s singing f’me. you hear ‘dat?” he pulls your hair, making sure you were hearing the melodic noises of your soppy, wet cunt, sousing his cock.

embarrassment rose up to your cheeks, the sounds were so loud and so lewd. “o-oh my, h-hah…”

you didn’t even realise your legs were giving up and enjin wraps his hand around your belly, caressing the bulge that formed every time he pressed his hips against your ass. he was holdng your lower body up, angling it, to go deeper.

sweat built up on both your bodies. the slighty wet strands of enjin’s hair falling down to his forehead as he gripped your ass hard. he throw his head back, teeth gritting. he was getting close and so were you. again. he moves his hand from your ass to rub your pussy clit, rubbing circles on it. “f-fucck, m' gonna cummm.”

the nerves of your clit tingles from overstimulation, another orgasm rushing soon.

“yer’ gonna let me cum in tis’ pussy, yeah?” he slurs, “gon’ let me breed you, like the perfect cockslut you are f’me, huh?” oh. he was sooo pussydrunk.

his pace quickens and your eyes rolls to the back of your head with your mouth hang open, drool seeping out and getting absorbed by the fabric beneath you.

soon enough. he grabs you by your neck, angling your head to kiss you. you gasp and he takes that opportunity to shove his tongue, exploring every part of your mouth as his hips are ramming into you.

your head was spinning, rushing another trembling orgasm into you. you clench around his swollen cock, already coming. clear liquid splashing on his thighs and everywhere else – then with one last deep thrust, he’s groaning into your mouth. filling you up with his hot, thick ropes of cum, painting your velvety walls white.

he's swallowing all your whines, rutting his hips again in slow, deep thrusts. fucking his semen more deeply into you. you swear you can feel enjin’s warm cum trickle out at the very back of your throat.

he pulls away from your mouth to praise you with a half-lidded gaze, softly peppering your face with kisses. “such a good cockslut.”

he gently puts your lower body down to the mattress, removing his hand from your waist. he slowly pulls out, his cum leaking out of you which makes him suck his teeth at the view.

he spreads your ass with one hand and uses the other to stuff the dripping cum from your clit back into your fucked out cunt. he swears he feels his dick twitch and harden again when your pussy swallows his thick inked finger so lewdly.

“you alright?” you slowly move your head towards enjin, with eyes that failed to stay open and nod.

“good.” enjin has a mischievous smile on his face which you know, he was upto no good. you thought you guys were done. he was done. yeah, you thought. all your light-headedness goes away the moment you realise. “enjin, no—”

he wastes no time on pulling you off the bed and pressing you against the nearest wall, grabbing one of your thighs up and holding it up as he starts rubbing himself against your slit, the leftover cum coating his cock.

“i’m not even close to being done with you yet, princess.” he whispers into your ear in a deep, sultry tone that makes your knees weak and flips your stomach.

you are cursing in your mind. how the fuck does he have so much stamina? WHY the fuck does he have so much stamina? you just knew you had to give up the thought of walking properly tomorrow.

“you’re gon’ be a good girl and take my cock, right?”

“hm, baby?”

and FUCK why was he so good at talking you into it ‘cause you were easily falling into his trap. the way his tone is sooo perfect, making you wet with his just words, you believed that he was born to be a fucking, filthy dirty-talker.

“f-fine, but this is the las—” the moment he hears your approval, he’s driving his cock deep into you. you wince, putting all your weight on the wall-trying to hold onto it for support.

enjin’s fat cock bullies your cervix, each thrust somehow pinpointing each and every highest point of pleasure.

he’s babbling incoherently about his cock, how good it feels, how good you’re taking him. his thrusts are so mean it’s stealing your breath and makes your head loll.

your nails claw helplessly at the wall, sniffling and whimpering. your hands started to sweat, making it harder to stay connected to the wall. you blink up dazedly at him, conscious enough to formulate proper sentences. “enjin, ‘s too much—”

he’s gripping your inner thigh hard. “but look at this cute pussy swallowing me s’well.” he laughs, low and wicked as his cock drives into you again and again. the stretch of your muscles was getting to you—legs starting to get wobbly—knee shuddering and then enjin grabs you.

he wraps both his arms under your thighs, picking you up like you weighted nothing and wrapped your legs around his hip—still connected to you.

you immediately wrap one around around his neck, and the other on his big tatted bicep. stabilising yourself. his bicep was huge, his tricep prominent. he’s so big it fed your size kink like no other.

enjin smiled, watching you feel his muscle and then with no warning—his hands move up to your ass, gripping it hard as he’s rutting harshly into you again.

the moan you let out? absolutely pornographic.

“shiiiit, it feels that good?” he rumbles, thick fingers pressing bruises into your skin.

your lips quivered, “h-aah!—”

his thrusts get messier, sharper and he pants, “fuck, fuck—” you were clamping down on so well, gravity helping you impale deeper onto his dick. not only your pussy was clenching him, your legs wrapped around his hip was squeezing just as hard.

enjin was pounding your cunt so good, shovelling you with every inch of his thickened length, kissing your g-spot that made the nerves tingle just right. he’s driving you soo insane, you were splaying out the sluttiest expression right now. your pupils shape turning into heart eyes.

you rest your head onto his shoulder, whinning as hes drilling his cock into you. and it’s with a few more vulgar thrusts when another orgasm hits you, begging through choked-up sobs.

you hiccup, scratching and digging your nails onto his back. he hisses at the feeling and soon shudders, his mouth forming an 'o' when he feels you squeezing him, milking him. hot spurts of cum, filling you the brim.

another round follows—and then another—you guys go on for who knows—how long. you've lost count of how many times you came that your vision started to darken and your head completely stopped working.

.

.

.

you're fluttering your eyes open, being met with the ceiling. had you fallen asleep? the smell of tobacco infiltrates your nose and you feel something—wet? ...down your—oh. you look down to see enjin's mouth latched to your core, lapping up your insides with his tongue. he held one of your inner thighs while the other was holding his cigarette—which was almost finished-between his index and middle finger. oh what a sight it was. he was soo focused.

you shudder, calling out his name, no louder than a whisper. enjin hums into your pussy, raising his eyes to your surprised face. he pulls out his tongue from your hole and starts toying with your clit. “finally awake, huh?” that confirmed your question. so you did pass out.

you were so extremely sensitive right now. even the weakest flick from his tongue was making you see stars. “thought you wouldn't wake up 'till tomorrow.”

your eyes dart around the room, spotting the lamp on your nightstand turned on. how long had it been? your half-lidded gaze moves to the window—the outside which was bright and luminous was now completely dark.

you gasp when enjin’s slaps your sensitive clit, immediately looking at him, “eyes on me, ‘mama”

the cigarette on his hand was long gone and the bud tossed somewhere—you couldn't care less about.

he starts sticking out his tongue, licking a slow looong stripe of your slick which sent shivers down your spine. “you haven’t squirted on m’tongue yet, princess”

your eyebrows frowned, stuttering as you were pleading him. “p-please enjin, i c-can’t-“

“you can.”

you weren't even sure if you really could, you barely had any energy left in you and your throat was dry due to dehydration making you gulp every now and then.

he locks your thighs around his tattooed arms, lifting them up and burying himself between. enjin latches his fat tongue back on your puffy, overstimulated clit. a sound of satisfaction vibrating deep from his chest.

“fuucck, you're still leaking so much” he pulls back just to admire your hole, gaping with a gush of glistening slick. and next moment, he’s straight up gulping it while making the most lecherous slurping sounds with low, needy moan.

“s’sweet, jus’ so perfect f’me.” enjin didn't even care if he was eating some of his cum. the thought of drinking both of your fluids combined and having you squirt on his tongue was making him go feral.

if there way a feeling ten times more than overstimulation then that’s exactly what you were feeling. the constant suckling, the constant in–and–out of his fat tongue while hitting your g-spot was getting you close and closer to coming.

you throw your head back, shaky hand reaching to grip enjin’s wet, sweat-covered hair. you were literally tearing up as the coil in your stomach was burning.

and oh. he loved it when you tangled your cute fingers into his hair.

“yer’ close, aren’t ya?” he was still latched to your hole when he spoke so the vibration of his voice edged you even more.

breathy moans and curses were the only thing coming out of your mouth. his nose was nudging against your clit so good and his tongue was making your barely opened eyes roll.

you were trying so hard to move your legs but enjin kept them in place no matter what. his grip was so fucking strong. as you feel you high from overstimulation, you try to push him away but he stays unmoved, shoving himself more into your aching hole.

and then—you were gushing over his tongue. repeating his name like a mantra, you cry out, voice breaking as your back arched, whole body trembling. your heart was racing so fast-you were sure, your vision went almost blank again.

his chin was absolutely drenched with your glittery, sweet slick. he was slurpinggg it as if it was the best meal of his life.

enjin puffs out a snicker above your swollen folds—pwah! giving it one last kiss before lifting himself up and crawling to you.

“you were soo good, ‘ma” he pulls on a blanket covering your body. he gently kisses you on your forehead and pecks you on your lips before sitting up.

“let’s get you cleaned up, m’kay?”

a/n . sorry i got carried away

(BONUS)

meanwhile…

——

zanka spots rudo munching on sweets. “yo,”

“have you seen enjin?” he looks around the room, trying to spot the blond man.

“huh? no.” rudo replied, stuffing his face with the various delicacy of sweets.

zanka shouts, gripping his staff. “HEY! don’t eat too much again! or you’ll blow up like a balloon like last time.”

rudo barely nods as he continues stuffing his mouth.

zanka tuts at his reaction and sighs, crossing his arms. “geez, where is this guy?! he told me to meet up with him and he’s the one who doesn’t show up!?”

well about where enjin was and what he was doing… ahem.

——

[fatfemmebear]

I’ve seen a few horny s*v*r*nce posts now and… this is an idea explored in canon but. Imagine being an innie and slowly realizing you’re pregnant… your outie hasn’t bothered to have anything communicated to you so you have no idea how far along you are, only that your belly is swelling… you aren’t even sure it’s a pregnancy until you feel movement. And your outie is being stingy with the maternity work wear so you’re constantly having to tug the hem of your shirt down over your belly, always feeling your slacks slip under your bump, the buttons starting to strain over your swollen chest… you finally try to ask management about it but they tell you that it’s violating your outie’s privacy to ask share any info.

Maybe your coworkers start to speculate about who put that baby in you. At first they politely say it was probably a partner, but then they start suggesting that maybe you’re just a slut and maybe it was a total stranger. They start rubbing your belly without permission, even sliding their hands up under your clothes to feel the warm taut skin, saying surely you don’t mind, since your outie is obviously so fine with people getting in their pants.

And maybe you’re paid by the hour and your outie wants to make money right up to the wire, so you’re approaching ten months pregnant and still being expected to work 8 hour days. You at least have clothes that fit a little better now—just a bit of tummy peeking out—but you end up having to wad bathroom tissue into your bra to soak the constant leak of your swollen nipples.

You’re too foggy-headed to work, and you’re wet all the time, so you end up going to the bathroom to rub your heavy belly and tug on your milky tits a few times a day. Maybe your coworkers follow you in there and fuck you raw, not bothering to pull out because it’s not like you can get more pregnant.

You’re forced to keep working through increasing Braxton-hicks contractions, and eventually you think you must be in labor—early labor, your brain tells you, fact that must have made it from your outie to you. You pace around the office breathing heavily, one hand under your dropped belly and the other to your back, your requests to leave early denied since the contractions aren’t regular.

You labor for an entire work day, assuming you’ll leave at the end of your shift and not return until your outie’s maternity leave is over. But you’re shocked to wake up in the elevator the very next day, still overwhelmed by the pressure that feels like it’s splitting your hips open, still contracting irregularly.

Your coworkers get involved, rubbing your back and holding up your belly for you, massaging your sore breasts. Maybe one of them is pretty sure orgasms are meant to speed up labor, so you let them kneel and pull your pants down and you cum until your knees are trembling.

Finally, active labor starts. You’re helped, groaning and barely able to stand, back to the elevator. Your coworkers wish you luck as you clutch the railing and breathe hard through a contraction.

Six weeks later, you return. Your belly is soft and empty. Your tits are hard and full, and your outie keeps choosing tops that they spill out of. You’ve been sent with a breast pump, which you’re allowed to use in the open—this is a progressive company, after all!—so every 2-3 hours you attach the pumps and do your job with your milk squirting out, groaning in gentle pleasure as your poor engorged breasts are relieved. You’re producing enough milk that your coworkers can even suckle from you at mealtimes and you still have enough to send home for your baby.

Two months later, you start feeling a familiar nausea. Your breasts grow extra tender. You start showing faster, this time. Your outie is going for Irish twins. You start to wonder if you’ll be pregnant for the rest of your life.

…The thought turns you on so much that you cum right at your desk.

[spicymotte]

cow lick. continuation of the minotaur drawing (18+!)

[andreamoonlight143]

That damn punk lizard from that sporty furry movie that caught my attention.

TW: Slight suggestive ig

[bisexualklaus]

more obkk thoughts (perverted)

not enough obikaka clone sex im actually so deprived of it.....? 

i think kakashi would be an overstimulation freak (or obito is just a freak and likes seeing him overstimulated. works both ways) and obito would have just oneeee extra clone during them having sex after obito kind of brings up the idea of him summoning a clone, Sort of challenging him if he would even be able to handle it and kakashi being the pervert he is obviously agrees,,,, so while obito's fucking him he has his clone jerking or sucking kakashi off,,,, and obikaka KISS. A LOT. DURING SEX. IDGAF. at the beginning it would be obito and kakashi just making out but i think after a while kakashis brain just gives out as he's being pumped/sucked off that he would just start making out with obito's clone instead, bringing him up to his face , gripping onto his shoulders and sliding his hands into his hair. 

obito has never undone a jutsu faster in his goddamn LIFE. 

he would let his stomach drop from jealousy (jealous of himself MIND YOU) for maybe a minute until kakashi lets out a particularly desperate moan into his clone's mouth until kakashi blinks as suddenly the clone is gone. obito turns his jaw to him, pressing hard into his mouth, quickly all over him a lot more than he usually would 

kakashi: "i thought you wanted another--"

obito: "i got it." 

is my vision understandable .....? im just so hungry ........ Fanfic authors...,,, ill take literally any variation of this heeheh 

[spicymotte]

the queen's personal guard

[wizardpregnant]

i think hes a builders tea kinda guy💖

[pregnant-belly-obsessed]

[throathole]

A cum bomb detonated in my fuck canal ✍🏻

[softpillowprincess]

ᯓ˚✗୨୧ — tobacco & mint [18+]

ᢉ𐭩Enjin x f!Reader

.｡.:*☆ wc ≈ 16.5k | beta read | proof read

SYNOPSIS Enjin didn’t know you were hiding all that under your somewhat baggy cleaner‘s uniform until one day August gets a new whiff of inspiration to cook you up the possibly hottest uniform among the cleaners yet.

CONTENT nsfw / fluff / sexual tension / porn with plot / resolved sexual tension / mutual pining / slow burn / friends to lovers / coworkers to lovers / service top!enjin / praise kink / submissive reader / cursing / oral f!receiving / fingering / sadist!enjin if you squint

WARNINGS nsfw / weed / usage of she/her pronouns / mdni

Enjin was a simple man with simple needs. 

A couple cigarettes. The rush of tearing a trash beast apart piece by piece. The relief of a joint right after. Hitting up his favorite local spots at the end of a workday, surrounding himself with gorgeous women who couldn’t deny the fact that he, too, was quite the specimen himself. 

Simple. 

Once you joined the Cleaners, he’d been ecstatic to finally share the burden that was being in your twenties while babysitting a bunch of brain-wrecked teenagers. 

For the first time in a while, he had room to breathe—time to indulge, and not just in stolen moments.

He could prep joints at night for the next day. Take long baths. Hook up with strangers. Stumble back home high out of his mind at bonkers hours in the morning.

He wasn’t above sharing his pleasures, either. He’d invite his adult coworkers to go out with him from time to time.

Gris usually took him up on it if his day had been particularly rough—especially after some heavy trash-beast ass-kicking.

Semiu, on the other hand, decided on a whim whether she felt like tagging along or not.

As for Zanka, Enjin was already looking forward to the day he’d be old enough to become a potential drinking buddy. Fingers crossed.

He’d even invited you along a couple of times as well, only to learn—pretty quickly—that you were more of a domestic soul. You liked taking care of yourself in your room during your spare time, doing chores, sticking to your own quiet routines and little rituals.

You spent a good chunk of your time tending to your vital instrument. Other than that, you just… existed among the residents. Easy. Steady. Reliable.

He exhaled slowly, letting the tensions of the day roll off him as his thoughts drifted towards the night ahead, an unlit cigarette sitting between his lips. The places he might go, the people he might see, the things he might do. 

His steps echoed through the atmosphere of low humming halls. It was easy to slip into autopilot, leave monotone routine behind—as monotone as his job could get, really— and trade it all for the simple pleasures waiting outside. 

Enjin had already clocked out in his head. Cigarette, street air, somewhere loud—he was halfway there when August’s voice tore through the hall.

“IT’S DONE! HAHA! I DID IT!”

Enjin stopped. Clicked his tongue. Figures. Nothing out of the ordinary. He put his foot in front of the other. 

Then August yelled your name.

The lighter stayed in Enjin’s pocket. Instinctively, he turned back around to watch the scene unfold in front of him. 

You appeared like you always did — clothes draping over you like they were just a size too big, hair half-tamed (much like you).

Mildly tired, mildly irritated, yet entirely unbothered by the chaos that was August himself. He leaned back against the doorframe behind him, eyes following the way you yanked the fabric out of August’s hands. 

“On my fucking life,” you groaned. “Why’re you yelling? M’right here.” 

“Wow, you’re so fun and energized,” Enjin chimed in, as sarcastic as he was relaxed.

You shot him a look — flat, unimpressed. He grinned anyway, like he’d just won a prize, or something. “You asked for a new uniform?” 

“Not really,”—you held the clothes up to get an impression—“he just said he’d make me one ‘cause he felt inspired, so I let him.”

He couldn’t help but notice the fabric of the new uniform— or rather, the lack thereof.

Enjin then realized, distantly, that he’d never really thought about what you looked like under your layers of much too oversized clothes.

The sweaters swallowed you whole, the pants hung low and loose, and somewhere along the line his brain had filed you away as safe. Familiar.

Not something to think about.

“August,” you said, turning the scraps of fabric over in your hands, brows knitting together, “are you sure this is for me? This is so not what I’d usually wear.”

Enjin almost agreed out loud. Almost. It didn’t match you—not the way he knew you, anyway.

You were all soft edges and practical comfort, huge sleeves and borrowed pants, a presence that blended into the space instead of demanding it. This thing looked like it wanted to be noticed. 

He should’ve written it off right there, should’ve sided with you and moved on. Instead, he found himself staring a second longer than necessary, curiosity gnawing at him in a way that felt unfamiliar. He wanted—unexpectedly—to see it on you.

Wanted to know what August had seen that he hadn’t. The thought settled in his chest, stubborn, yet not entirely unwelcome.

Enjin was a simple man.

“Are you doubting the gear genius?” He teasingly tilted his head.

“Yeah? How dare you?” August scoffed.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I’m not doubting anyone. I’m just saying—this doesn’t really look like something I’d wear.”

August waved you off, already vibrating with confidence. “Just try it on.”

You hesitated for half a second before nodding. “Give me a minute.”

And just like you’d seemed to appear out of nowhere, you were gone again the very next second. The door to your room clicked shut.

Enjin didn’t realize he’d been watching until August lightly elbowed his side, muttering to himself about unique stitching, unmatched genius, and a true artistic vision needing proper time to take shape.

Adjusting his weight against the doorframe, Enjin finally lit the cigarette that had been resting between his lips.

Huh, weird.

He’d seen people change before—hell, had undressed people before, had just been about to go out and find someone to undress again. None of this should have registered.

And yet.

Seconds ticked by, and his mind counted them anyway.

He took a drag. Exhaled. Then did it again. The burned-down bud at the tip of the cigarette fell to the floor in what felt like slow motion.

He shifted again, cigarette now between his fingers, trying to convince himself that now could be the time follow through with his original plan: go out, fool around, return at some ridiculous hour. No obligations. No reason to stick around. 

So why weren’t his feet moving? 

His gaze drifted toward your closed door. For the briefest moment, he imagined what it might look like. Immediately, he shook his head. He really never thought of you this way. 

And yet.

The thought lingered. The thought of you—any way other than your usual comforting, gentle, easy self—refused to disappear. He heard the soft shuffle and toss of clothing behind the door until all that remained was quiet nothing.

He couldn’t lie to himself. He was curious. Whatever pleasures waited outside weren’t going anywhere, and he was entertained enough right where he was—so why force it?

There was no rush. No harm in sticking around a little longer. If nothing else, it gave him an excuse to annoy you about it later.

Another drag. Another exhale. The cigarette was now less than half its original length. A few more inches fell to the floor, slow, unimportant, meaningless.

The lock of your door clicked. And it mattered so much, for some reason.

Enjin’s head tilted, cigarette now forgotten between his lips. He imagined your last couple motions behind that door— a careful tug at a new hem, flatting a creased surface of the fabric, adjusting the fit and drape of certain places. Your hands moving along yourself in a familiar fashion. 

Your hands moving along yourself.

And that was new. In spite of all the trouble he usually got up to, he’d never thought of you as a woman before. Not once. 

Then, you stepped out. 

The uniform fit differently than he expected. On its own, it wasn’t flashy, or anything, but it conformed to your shape in a way that made it undeniable. Attention-seeking. And you…

You made it look effortless.

The seams traced your lines perfectly, moving and folding with you in one fluid motion as if the fabric had been waiting for you.

The uniform was stripped down, tight, and sharp. The skirt hugged your hips, short enough to catch the eye without feeling ridiculous. It was tasteful. 

The top clung to your torso in a way that left neither room for more fabric, nor for imagination. 

Over it, the cropped jacket—Cleaners’ emblem bold across the back—fit snugly, following your every movement without losing its structure. 

And the boots—chunky, scuffed, ready for anything—grounded you in a way that made the whole thing feel both dangerous and effortless.

And what shouldn’t have mattered suddenly mattered so much. Because, fuck… you were hot.

Every little shift you made—a tilt of your head, a small tug at the hem, the way the fabric moved with you—kept catching his attention. He bit the inside of his cheek. Ain’t no way you’d been burying all that under those layers. 

And yet.

Something in him knew better. Your figure fit the style of the uniform perfectly. Natural. Balanced. Built in all the right places. That shouldn’t matter. And still, it did. His pulse ticked a little faster, and he kind of hated that he noticed.

What he was most shocked to have to face was the fact that you were pretty much exactly what he imagined whenever he thought of an ideal type. 

His lungs tightened. Not from desire—at least, not fully. Fascination, awareness, intrigue—all tangled together. The version of you he’d filed away as “safe, familiar” no longer fit. Something was… different.

You glanced at him, eyebrows raised, waiting for judgment. Approval. Anything.

He exhaled slowly, smoke he’d forgotten in his lungs curling upwards past his curious eyes. “Fits,” he said, voice low and casual, as though he was trying to convince himself he hadn’t been holding his breath for the past couple seconds.

You blinked, then tilted your head to look down at yourself. “Yeah… I guess so.”

Neither of you moved. The hall felt quieter, smaller, like any sudden movement could cause him to bump into you. August had gone silent as well, half inspecting his work, half sensing the shift in the air without caring to pinpoint the energy. 

Whether or not you had realized it, that was up for debate.

Enjin took another long drag. Exhaled. Hoping the smoke would create a barrier between him and your form.

It was then, that he realized it wasn’t just the uniform that mattered. It was the subtle shift in you, the way you carried yourself differently, the unfamiliar side of you quietly asserting itself—and him noticing, no pretending otherwise. 

Your back straightened, chest lifted ever so slightly—oh, fuck—and the natural sway of your hips whenever you shifted your weight had him chasing after his own breath. 

“Honestly,” you spoke, smoothing the fabric of your skirt over your hips, “I thought this would be uncomfortable, but… it’s really not. I do actually like it.” 

“TOLD YA! I’M A GENIUS!” August screamed, dancing with wild pride. 

Enjin couldn’t help but simply stare. An involuntary smirk grazed his features. “Yeah… you are a genius.” 

He was a simple man with simple needs.

─────────୨ৎ─────────

By the time the last trash beast went down, you’d forgotten what it felt like to wear anything else.

Given the nature of your fighting, bruises were inevitable—something you hadn’t even considered when you first received the outfit. Now, black-and-blue marks bloomed along your legs, stretching from mid-thigh all the way down.

It was a sight quite familiar to you, the difference being that—with your new uniform— it was visible to everyone around you as well.

You were going to have to do something about that. 

The adrenaline hadn’t quite worn off yet. Your limbs buzzed from all the movement, body feeling hot and fuzzy. You shifted your weight from one leg to the other in pursuit of some sort of relief for each limb. 

And in spite of all your movements, the pieces of clothing hadn’t shifted in any unwanted way. No hems to adjust, no creases to smooth over. Nothing. The uniform didn’t just cling to your body—it practically felt molded to your physique.

You hadn’t had to think about it once during the fight, which, honestly, was the highest compliment you could pay to the resident “gear genius” who had so carefully tailored it to your needs.

You glanced over at Enjin, who seemed to be in a similar state as you. Chest heaving, skin dusted with the thinnest layer of sweat and grime.

He leaned back slightly, the ever-present teasing grin tugging at his lips—a feature that somehow only grew more pronounced after a good fight at the edge of the No Man’s Lands.

He put most of his weight onto his dear umbrella as his gaze flickered towards your form. You caught it flicking down for a split second—a questioning twitch in his lip, a curious squint of his eye—and then back up. 

“Don’t start,” you said, already anticipating a comment about the state of your legs.

“Wasn’t gonna,” he replied easily, his hands up in defense and then catching Umbreaker just in time before it fell over. Then, after a beat, “You took quite a hit back there, though.”

“Well,” you looked down to properly inspect the spots this time. The bruises blossomed mostly in the areas around and on your knees, though your shins weren’t exempt of the hues of color. Frankly, it looked like it usually did. “Comes with the job.” 

“Huh,” his gaze flickered down again, lingering long enough for you to take note of it. “You always bruise like that?” 

“Pretty much?” You responded, putting one leg behind the other, as if it was going to do anything to hide it. “Legs usually take the worst of it.” 

“Figures.” he responded, lifting a joint to his lips—his habitual celebration joint, as you’ve come to learn about him.

His attention to your legs lingered just a second longer than you’d expected it to, before focusing on lighting the end of the blunt with his lighter. 

“You know,” he teased as the fire finally caught, then dropping his lighter back in his pocket, “the amount you bruise in a day feels like the amount I take in like, what, two weeks?” 

“Wow, you’re so cool for that,” you shot back—unimpressed, sarcastic. “Is this your way of telling me to be more careful?” 

“Nah,” he smirked, taking a drag of his joint and exhaling the smoke, a relaxed groan escaping along with it. “You handle yourself just fine.” 

That earned him a look. “High praise.” 

“Don’t get used to it.” he retorted, a challenging expression adorning his sharp features.

“Aw, why not?” You finally took a moment to stretch. 

Hands pressed together, you reached overhead, trying to ease the tension built up in your back during the fight. Even as you moved, you couldn’t help but notice the hem of your top riding up just slightly—enough to follow your motion comfortably, never restrictive, never bothersome.

It was honestly impressive. 

When your arms dropped back to your sides, you caught the faintest flicker of movement out of the corner of your eye—and for a moment, it felt like Enjin’s gaze was still following you. Just for a heartbeat, though.

“What’s up with you today?”

“Huh?” A cloud of smoke tore through his lips. “What do you mean?”

“You’re, like, looking at me all the time,” you said, resting a hand on your hip. “What’s up with that?”

“I’m not.” He scoffed, taking another drag, huffing little smoke circles and watching them disappear into the air.

You rolled your eyes. “You are, though.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You totally are.”

“Yeah,” he admitted, shooting you a hopelessly charming smile, eyes shamelessly flicking down and back up your figure. “Maybe a bit.”

Unfortunately for you, his charms didn’t leave you entirely unaffected.

You couldn’t help it. Anyone with working eyes knew exactly that Enjin was the unfortunate epitome of attraction. 

The sharp line of his jaw catching the light as he tilted his head, the way smoke curled lazily from his lips, forming all sorts of organic shapes before vanishing into the air. 

The collar of his shirt revealing the ink nestled underneath his skin, curving alongside his neck, giving him this edge that somehow fit that permanent teasing expression he always wore.

You shook your head slightly, trying to tell yourself it didn’t mean anything. But your pulse had its own opinion, quickening with the small, easy awareness of him in front of you. 

But no. This guy was more than likely carrying a choker filled to the brim with booty calls. There was no reason for him to be paying you that kind of attention, especially since he usually didn’t.

Something you’d always been painfully aware of, to your dismay.

“Whatever,” you muttered, more to yourself than him. “Can you drive?” 

“Why?” he grinned. “‘Cause your legs are busted?” 

“You’re so funny today,” you mustered the most obnoxious fake-laugh you were capable of. “No, genius. I’m asking, because you’re high.”

“That would certainly be a valid concern,”—he took another taunting drag—“if you weren’t talking to me right now.” 

“Silly me,”you said, not-so-subtle sarcasm yet to unlace from your voice. “No, but really.” 

You walked past him toward the off-roader, unable to hide the little bounce in your step—half from the lingering adrenaline still coursing through your veins, half from the excitement you felt at the prospect of returning back to your base—home.

Heavy steps followed you until you both slid into the vehicle, him in the driver’s seat.

“I’ve done wilder things stoned,” he scoffed, playfully rolling his eyes as he inserted the key into the ignition.

“Like what?” You asked, getting comfortable in your seat. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“You’re so insufferable sometimes.” you sighed, shooting him a displeased look. “Just focus on the road.”

He smiled, eyes meeting yours as if to admit guilt. “No promises.” 

His fingers moved quickly over the keys, firing up the engine before shifting gears and getting the car rolling.

“Buckle up, princess,” he said. “Just ‘cause your legs are bruised doesn’t mean I’ll be slowing down any time soon.” 

The little nickname definitely didn’t go unnoticed by you—as well as the double innuendo, which wasn’t out of the ordinary for him—though you felt too something to really comment on it.

“Don’t you worry about my legs,” you shot back, trying for a casual tone. “Not like I’m made of sugar or something.”

He smirked to himself, taking a last long drag of the joint before flicking it out the window. “Good to know.”

You caught him muttering something under his breath—more to himself than to you—but decided to let it slide. Your pulse still hadn’t quite settled—whether that was from the fight or due to certain body-modded men within your vicinity was something you chose not to worry about— and honestly, you didn’t really feel like picking fights, anyway. 

The motor rumbled beneath you as the off-roader stumbled over the uneven ground of the No Man’s Land, gradually leaving the chaos behind. The road began to flatten with each passing mile, though the ride already felt surprisingly smooth—especially considering it was Enjin behind the wheel right now.

You kept your hands folded in your lap. Your gaze kept wandering between the trash-ridden landscape — a rather unpleasant sight — and, of course, him — an admittedly rather pleasant side. 

Despite every warning you’d given yourself, despite every attempt to keep your guard up, he slipped past it effortlessly. He didn’t need your consent to get under your skin—and you couldn’t really help letting him, either. He was just good at getting people’s guard down—at least among the Cleaners.

Or maybe it was just you. 

Your gaze drifted back to him, more often than you cared to admit. His side profile looked sharper and even more defined against the warm rays of a setting sun kissing his dirt-ridden skin. 

It was honestly a bit annoying how attractive he was. 

You mentally traced the patterns of the tattoos disappearing beneath the nick of his shirt, wondering about the way they might continue. Your focus drifted towards the flex of his strong hands on the wheel, covered in similar shapes—how did they curl under his sleeves?

You shifted in your seat, throwing one leg over the other, and felt the faint sting of bruises along the length of your legs. Nothing severe, but enough to remind you that your fight hadn’t been gentle. 

You flexed them subtly under the skirt of your uniform, partly to stretch, partly out of curiosity, playing a quiet game of “how long before it hurts too much”. Of course, it never got to that point. It’s just some light bruising. 

He glanced at you then, out of the corner of his eye, and his smirk widened just slightly, like he knew about the silly game you were playing in your head to entertain yourself. A small quirk of his eyebrow, a tilt of the head—it was enough to make your chest tighten, though you pretended (miserably) to focus on your legs instead.

“So,” he said, voice casual but teasing, “you planning on sitting there looking broody all the way back, or are we gonna talk?”

You let out a soft breath, shoulders sinking into the seat. “I’ll be honest… I’m kind of tired.”

“I was wondering when you’d say that.” His tone softened, the teasing thinning out. “You can sleep, if you wanna. I’ll wake your ass at HQ.”

“Mm,” you hummed, eyelids already heavier than you’d realized. “Sounds good.”

“I’ll wake you up good,” he added lightly. “Get Delmon to hose you down.”

One eye cracked open. “Okay. I’m not sleeping.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “I’m kidding.” A pause. Then, softer, more genuine: “I’ll wake you up real gentle. Promise. Get some rest.”

The hum of the engine filled the space between you. The road stretched ahead, steady and uneventful.

You shifted slightly, adjusting against the seat, legs stretching out a little more carefully this time. Your head tipped back. The exhaustion wasn’t dramatic — just the slow kind that settled into your bones after a long day.

You felt it before you saw it — his hand adjusting the climate dial so the air wouldn’t blow directly at you. The smallest thing. Almost nothing.

But not nothing.

Your eyes fluttered closed.

The last thing you registered was the faint sound of him muttering under his breath — something about how easily you wear yourself out — and the way the vehicle seemed to move just a little smoother than before.

You were asleep before you even realized it.

─────────୨ৎ─────────

The common area was louder than usual—music bleeding from a battered speaker, empty bottles clustering along the tables, the air thick with smoke and laughter. Someone had dragged out a deck of cards, another group arguing loudly over rules that changed every five minutes.

Enjin fit right into it.

He leaned back in his chair, one arm slung over the backrest, a drink balanced loosely in his hand as he laughed along with the others. Easy. Relaxed. This was familiar territory—post-mission chaos, shared exhaustion, celebration for still being alive. The kind of environment he absolutely thrived in.

His eyes roamed the room in a moment that was supposed to be all about appreciating his weird, little family.

And then, they stopped. 

You hadn’t made any sort of announcement. No dramatic pause, no random attempt at drawing attention. You just slipped into the room like you always did— quiet, familiar, reliable. 

His gaze flickered down before he could stop himself. 

The uniform sat on you as disgustingly well as it always did. Skirt hugged you too well, top accentuated your physique, jacket hung loose over your shoulders, sleeves slinging in the air.

He had just gotten somewhat used to seeing you this way. It was supposed to be safe. It should have been safe.

You chose trouble today. 

It wasn’t the uniform that threw him off.

It was what you added. 

Dark fabric hugged your legs beneath the skirt, reaching high enough to erase the bruises he knew were there. Practical. Sensible.

That, somehow, made it worse.

He knew why you were wearing them. A part of him basked in the fact that he was probably the only person here that knew why you were wearing them, that this was your attempt at hiding your bruises. And, somehow, knowing what it looked like underneath made it that much more… intimate? 

Not to mention the way that the plush of your legs perfectly spilled over the hem of the fabric, which was the best part about these types of socks, anyway.

But this was you. Cozy, unchanging, reliable you.

With a single addition to your work attire, you’d managed to take it from blurring the lines of professionalism to… well, overstepping them entirely. At least, in his eyes.

He couldn’t tell if he minded or not. Or he just couldn’t admit the truth to himself. 

The card game, the drink in his hand, the music running in the background—all of it faded as he took his sweet time observing you.

He eased back into the loveseat he was occupying, spreading his long legs like he owned the space, as if waiting for you was the most natural thing in the world.

You greeted a few people, checked on the kids at the children’s table, but never seemed to settle in one spot.

And so, he called your name before he could stop himself. 

Your head snapped toward him, eyes locking with his as you made your way to the poker table.

“Hey there,” you greeted, arms loosely crossed.

“Hi,” he replied, flashing that infuriating grin. “Sit down. We could use another player.” He shifted over, leaving just enough space for you to slide in, and you did—probably closer than you’d expected—after greeting everyone at the table.

His hand draped over the back of the two-seater, half-encasing your frame. His legs stretched, one brushing the side of your thigh, claiming the space with casual confidence, yet leaving enough for you.

“So… what are we playing?” you asked, voice light, like you were trying not to notice the proximity.

“It’s called Bluffing,” he said, eyes flicking toward you briefly. “Basically, the deck is evenly split among the four of us and we have to place cards in order of Ace to King facedown. The catch: You won’t always have the right card at the right turn.” 

“Ah,” you murmured as you took the drink from his hand and sipped, the weight of his gaze lingering on you. “So—you’re gonna have to bluff.”

“Right,” he replied, brow quirking just slightly. “You can place in multiples, though. If you gotta place an Ace and you have two on your hand, you can place both.”

“I see,” you replied, voice casual and airy. “How do you win? Or lose?”

“Oh, yeah—anyone can call a bluff at any point. If you’re right, the person who bluffed gets the entire pile on the table. If you’re wrong, you need to take the pile,” he responded. “Whoever has no cards left wins. You’ll get the hang of it.”

He leaned back slightly, letting his arm drape lazily over the loveseat, the movement deliberate, stretching closer to you without touching… yet. The proximity was ridiculous, and he knew it, and of course, so did you. 

He could feel the subtle brush of your leg against his, hear the faint shift as you adjusted your seat, the way your hand lingered on the drink he’d gotten himself.

His mind did a quick double-take, because… damn. You smelled good. Closer than he’d ever been, and now it was impossible to ignore.

Enjin reached for the full deck on the table, shuffling it, before he split the cards evenly between the four of you, movements smooth and practiced. Cards slid across the table in neat stacks.

“Alright,” he said, glancing around. “Who’s got the Ace of Hearts?”

Everyone checked their hand.

A beat.

“I do.”

His eyes flicked up immediately.

Of course you did.

“Then—you start.”

He leaned back, watching from the corner of his eye as you looked down at your cards. You took just a second too long. Your lips pressed together, like you were holding back a smile.

That was new.

You placed a card face-down.

“Ace of Hearts.”

He didn’t even hesitate.

“Bluff.”

The word came easy. Calm. Certain.

Bro snorted. “Already?”

You turned toward him slowly. “You don’t even know what I put down.”

He tilted his head, studying you openly now. “Don’t need to.”

It wasn’t about the card.

It was the way you sat a little straighter. The way your fingers lingered on the edge of the card a fraction too long. The almost imperceptible satisfaction in your eyes.

You were asking for it, really.

“Flip it,” Delmon urged.

You held Enjin’s gaze for half a second—a silent challenge—before turning the card over.

Six of Hearts.

Bro burst out laughing.

Enjin didn’t. He just smiled—slow and smug—because… well, there it was.

“I knew it,” he said quietly.

“You didn’t know anything.” You rolled your eyes.

He huffed a low laugh. Then, using the arm that wasn't draped casually behind you, he reached down and lightly poked a spot on your leg he knew was bruised. You yelped, just enough to make him grin wider.

Meanwhile, he couldn't help but savor the fact that he was the only one who knew what your legs looked like beneath the thigh highs. It was his way of telling you that—at least in split second—you belonged to him.

“I know you.”

You muttered something under your breath as you took your card back, clearly annoyed—but not really.

“Alright,” he said, settling back again. “Go on.”

You drew in a breath, adjusted your grip on your cards, and this time when you placed one down, your expression was steady. Almost neutral.

“Ace of Hearts—for real this time.”

He watched you carefully.

No lingering. No spark. No tiny flare of pride.

Just calm.

He held the silence for a second longer than necessary—just to make you feel it.

“Alright. Continue.”

Delmon cracked his knuckles. “Two.”

He placed two cards down in a neat stack. No hesitation. No theatrics.

Bro eyed him briefly, but didn’t bite.

“Three,” Bro said next, tossing one card onto the pile with a lazy flick of his wrist.

Stil, no one called anything.

Then it was Enjin’s turn.

He looked down at his hand. The next number was four. 

He just so happened to have two.

A small part of him considered holding one back for the next cycle.

He didn’t.

He slid both cards into the center. Calm. Clean.

“Two fours.”

He didn’t look at Delmon.

He didn’t look at Bro.

He looked at you.

Your fingers were still resting on your cards. But he saw it — that tiny shift in your posture. The way your shoulders squared. The way your eyes flicked to the pile and then back to him.

You were thinking. Good.

He leaned back slightly, arm still draped along the seat behind you.

“You gonna call it?” he asked lightly.

Delmon scoffed. “Here we go.”

Enjin ignored him.

His gaze stayed on you—not challenging. Just steady.

He wasn’t bluffing. But he almost hoped you thought he was.

For the most part, you upheld the eye-contact—eyes flicking towards the cards in his hand from time to time, as if questioning the legitimacy of them. 

“I wanted to,” you murmured, eyes flicking toward him, wary, “but… now that you want me to call it, I won’t.”

Enjin huffed a laugh.

“Fair enough. Your turn.”

You placed your three cards with a smile. “Five.”

Delmon’s brow furrowed as he eyed the pile.

“Bluff,” he finally muttered, leaning forward, elbows now resting on his knees.

You blinked, keeping your expression calm. “Oh?”

Enjin watched from his spot, leaning back slightly, arm still stretched behind you, smirk tugging at his lips. He didn’t need to see your cards to know what was coming.

“You sure about that?” Enjin asked lightly, just loud enough for the table to hear. His voice carried a teasing edge, though he kept his own cards close.

Delmon hesitated for a heartbeat, then nodded. “What are the odds of having three fives on your hand? I’m calling it.”

You flipped your first card — five. Then the second — five. And the third… five.

It was true.

Delmon froze, eyes widening as realization hit. “Huh?”

You leaned slightly toward the center of the table, a faint, triumphant smile tugging at your lips, sliding the small pile towards him. “There you go.”

Enjin’s gaze lingered on you, amusement and something warmer flickering in his chest. You weren’t even aware of the way you’d slid closer, your side almost fully pressed against him. 

He felt a soft nudge against his chest — your shoulder lightly stabbing into him. He didn’t move. He could feel the warmth radiating from you, the faint brush of your side against his, and the subtle weight of your presence.

He looked down at you, catching your eyes before you looked away. The next second, you muttered something under your breath, too faint to carry over the pounding bass from the speakers. Enjin might have only noticed because—well—he'd just been looking at your lips anyway.

An idea struck him. 

As if the proximity weren't already enough, he inched closer, letting his body press lightly against yours as he

leaned down, silently signaling that you should repeat yourself.

His arm draped over you more than it did over the seat, head tilted ever so slightly as his gaze locked with

yours, faces just inches apart—a challenge you were doomed to fail. He caught the brief flicker of your eyes

down toward his lap, though you didn't pull back.

He caught your gaze again, right as your pretty lips began to part. “I just asked if we start from ace again,” you spoke, almost in a whisper.

“No,” he replied, voice casual, but he couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. “Next is six.”

You fit against him perfectly, your frame settling into the dip of the cushions at his side, curves aligning just so. You seemed comfortable there, either unaware of how close you’d slipped toward him or simply finding it as natural as he did.

Everyone eyes shifted to Delmon now that it was his turn. He placed one card down. “Six.”

Right after, Bro laid down a seven. Supposedly. 

The turn circled back to him. 

Enjin looked at his hand. Not a single eight. It was time to bluff. No big deal.

He slid two cards into the pile, careful, measured. “Eight,” voice calm, almost casual. Not rushed, not nervous—just like always. He let his gaze flick toward you out of the corner of his eye. The way you were watching him, that slight narrowing of your eyes.

“Bluff,” you said, quiet, steady, like it wasn’t a guess—like you already knew.

He froze just for a fraction of a second, more amused than concerned.

“You think so?” he murmured lightly, leaning into the seat a little more. Not defensive. Not worried. Just curious what you’d do.

You held his gaze, unwavering. Calm. Confident.

Enjin exhaled slowly, sliding the pile toward himself. “Alright, fine,” he said under his breath, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. “You got me.”

He was just flattered to know you’d watched him so intently.

“Damn,” Bro sighed, hand on the back of his neck. “You guys are really good at this.” 

Enjin hums. “Yeah,” he says. “Something like that.”

Minutes passed, then stretched into what felt like hours. The pile grew steadily, now close to a quarter of the deck, and no one could afford to lose. Yet somehow, bluffs hadn’t been called in forever.

“You’re taking forever,” you groaned, tapping your cards lightly, fidgeting.

“I’m thinking,” he replied evenly, though the tiniest twitch of a smile betrayed him.

“Thinking about what—bluffing?”

“Wanna call it? I dare you.” 

He glanced at his cards, then back at you, then back at his hand, before cautiously sliding a ten onto the ever-growing pile.

“One king.”

It was intense.

“You’ve got to be lying, man!” Delmon exclaimed, eyes fixed on the pile as if staring harder would reveal the truth.

“Okay, call it then. See what happens.” His empty threat earned groans all around—Bro rubbing his forehead in frustration, Delmon gripping his knees like he needed an anchor. And you… still. Too still. Still in a tense way, like you were frozen in time. 

He didn’t know if it was reflex, instinct, or just a quiet urge, but his hand had started tracing lazy shapes along your shoulder. You seemed to relax into it, even if only slightly, and he was quietly glad to be of some comfort.

It also seemed to distract you from the game, which was a bonus.

It was your turn now. The pile demanded an Ace.

You picked a card and slid it onto the pile, voice even, airy. “An Ace.”

His eyes narrowed just slightly. He could tell. 

The way your fingers lingered on the card before letting it go, the tiny pause in your voice, the way your gaze flicked to him and then quickly away—you weren’t enjoying the lie as much as you should have been.

He considered calling it. Just for a moment.

But he couldn’t bring himself to let the pile crash down on you. 

He leaned back just slightly, letting his gaze rest on you for a beat longer than necessary, noting the faint lift of your chest as you exhaled, and the subtle tension easing from your shoulders. Not because he needed to, not because he wanted to punish you—just because he could.

Just because he liked it.

─────────୨ৎ─────────

You played round after round after that, the hours slipping by unnoticed. The table shifted, drinks were replaced, the music grew louder and then blurred into the background.

By the time the night began to thin out, he’d walked you through the halls and left you at your door, talking about nothing and everything at once—recent expeditions, Rudo’s progress, who had handled the trash beasts better on the last mission (obviously you). You said your goodbyes like you hadn’t half-sat in his lap just moments earlier.

And you just couldn’t shake the thought of him. 

His lingering looks.

That honeyed tone to his voice.

The way his words always seemed to push just enough to see what you’d do with them.

You’ve been trying to catch sleep for a couple hours, but the phantom sensation of his finger lazily tracing circles into your shoulder hadn’t faded. Neither had the warmth of his body pressed against yours, or the image of his sharp, calloused hands working the deck.

You groaned into your pillow, kicking your feet against the mattress (which was dumb, because your legs still hadn’t recovered—it hurt really bad).

This was frustrating. 

Even now, your body felt as though it was running just as hot as it had when pressed right against the side of his hard chest. Tingles ran over every bit of skin that touched him. Your thoughts wandered places you usually always tried to keep them from and you were failing miserably tonight. 

His naked, inked skin. 

His strong, broad frame. 

His stupid hot fucking smile. 

The way his hands would feel…

You’d usually always been able to handle him, but something was just different this time. 

This wasn’t the same old big-ego Enjin. It was him threading himself into your thoughts, somehow playing with the pace of your heartbeat, the temperature of your skin, the electric feeling in your stomach.

Sleeping was pointless. You were lucky you had nowhere to be in the morning. 

Maybe you should take a shower. 

You begrudgingly lifted your face from the squished pillow and pushed yourself up, heading to grab a change of clothes before shuffling toward the bathroom. 

By the time you reached it, your resolve had wavered enough that you didn’t even bother shutting the door fully before peeling off your sleep shirt, carelessly throwing it onto your pile of laundry you had yet to find a day to tackle. 

The water felt relieving against your skin. Today felt like the kind of day that justified turning it really hot—which Enjin always hated, since it usually meant a cold, miserable shower for him the next morning. After tonight, you figured he kind of deserved it. 

If he was going to occupy your thoughts, you were claiming the hot water. 

The sensation of the water running down your body seemed to numb the pain in your legs, but it did little to wash away the feeling of his skin pressed against yours—because of course it wouldn’t. This wasn’t a physical sensation, it was him in your head.

You turned the temperature up a notch.

It burned, but it felt good.

Single droplets pierced you like hot needles—a type of pain you actually welcomed. All the tension of the day seemed to wash off your body, disappearing down the drain along with the water.

You could stay here for hours, maybe even fall asleep like this. All your senses felt cut off from the outside world, with no room for any unwanted thoughts. Just the unbearably hot water, close enough to feel endless.

And then, there was a beep.

You froze. You hadn’t taken your choker off yet.

Someone was calling. 

You feared you knew exactly who. 

“Enjin, what the fuck? It’s, like, 1 a.m.!” you whisper-shouted, covering the choker as best you could with your hand, as though that was going to shield you in any way. 

“Huh? It’s almost 3. And I can hear you,” he replied.

“Yeah, I know, we’re in a call!” you said, exasperated.

“No, like… I can hear your shower,” he clarified, a faint chuckle in his tone.

“And you thought it’d be a good idea to call me in the shower?”

“You picked up, didn’t you?” His grin practically radiated through the call.

What you hated most in this moment wasn’t that he called—it was the fact that you were excited about it. 

And the fact that he was right.

“You don’t even know how hot my shower is running right now.” you challenged him, hoping to get him right where you knew it hurt. 

“That’s fucked up,” he laughed, like he wasn’t taking you seriously at all. “Just to tick me off? Or you just felt like showering hot?”

“I don’t have to answer that.” you mumbled, reaching for the shampoo bottle. 

“And that says so much,” he replied. “Why’re you taking a shower in the middle of the night? Didn’t you say you were tired?” 

“I was tired,” you admitted, letting the water cascade over your shoulders. “I just couldn’t fall asleep.” 

“Mm, same,” he replied. “It’s kind of your fault for turning on the shower, though.” 

“Thats on you.” And you regretted these words the moment they escaped your lips.

“What’d I do?”

Because what were you even going to tell him? That you couldn’t stop thinking about how good he smelled? That you wished his arm had fully encased you? That you actually kind of liked it when he pressed down on your bruises? That just thinking about any of it made your body react in ways you could never, ever admit out loud?

“I just don’t like you.” you muttered, scrubbing shampoo into your hair, trying to keep your voice even.

“I know that’s not true, sweetheart,” he said, his smile as audible as ever through the line.

Again with that pet name.

“I’m just gonna stop talking.” 

“You could also just hang up.” 

“Why don’t you hang up?

“I don’t want to,” he chuckled lowly. “I feel like you don’t really want to stop talking, either.” 

You heard him shuffle on his end of the line—things cluttering and moving around.

“You’re very confident in yourself.” 

“Hang up, then.” 

You didn’t reply. You didn’t hang up, either. 

“Thought so,” he murmured with a faint exhale—was he smoking?—“Wanna come over?”

“What. Now?” 

“Yeah. Or, you know what?” The sound of shifting feet, a quiet grunt. “I’m coming over.” 

Your fingers clenched slightly around the shampoo bottle, as if it was your lifeline. “I’m in the shower!” 

“Well, hurry, my foot’s out the door already.” And the click of his door shutting was, indeed, audible on the other end. 

The moment you felt the shampoo rinse completely from your hair, you stepped out of the shower, grabbing the first towel within reach.

“At least wait, like… two minutes,” you said, tugging it tighter around yourself. “Please.”

“But then I’d have to walk all the way back.”

“Our rooms are next to each other!” you shot back, exasperated.

“Yeah… way too far. Damn, you should lock your door.”

“Are you in my room right now?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, as if that settled everything.

“Just wait—sit down somewhere. I’ll be right out.” you replied hurriedly, dropping the towel after drying yourself off and getting into your giant sleep shirt. 

Shutting the bathroom door behind you and quickly shuffling your way back to your space, you find him splayed out on your bed, staring at the ceiling—or perhaps following the pattern of the smoke as it rose into the air. 

“Well?” he asked, his focus not shifting toward you quite yet. “You gonna keep me waiting?”

You crossed your arms, trying for irritation. “Do I look like I had a choice?”

Then, he spared you a glance, eyeing your frame for a moment. Then two. 

He smiled. “You look good.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Sorry?” you asked.

“You look good.” He met your eyes after letting his attention wander all over you. “Like… really good.”

You shifted on the spot, tugging at the hem of your shirt. “Don’t start with me, Enjin,” you muttered, though a faint warmth had already started spreading through your chest.

“Relax, I’m just messing with you,” he said, propping himself up against the wall. He made space on the mattress, patting the newly free spot as a silent invitation for you to get comfortable.

He brought the blunt to his lips and took a long, unhurried drag. You could practically see the smoke fill his lungs, his chest expanding before he leaned his head back slightly and exhaled, the haze curling lazily toward the ceiling. The sound he made—low, pleased—had no business shooting right through you the way it did.

You took a short breath, grounding yourself, then crossed the room and settled into the space he’d made for you. You leaned back against the pillows, angling your legs carefully so they didn’t tangle with his, even though the mattress dip made closeness unavoidable.

When you glanced over, he wasn’t looking at you anymore.

His gaze had gone distant, unfocused, like he’d drifted somewhere else entirely as the drug settled in. For a moment, you just watched him—his relaxed posture, the faint rise and fall of his chest, the way the smoke still lingered around him.

The thought that he looked kind of ethereal quietly passed your mind. 

Then, with the slightest tilt of his head, his eyes found yours again.

“Wanna try?” he asked, holding the blunt out toward you. You blinked. Once. Twice. 

“What—smoking?” you echoed.

“Yeah.” His smile was lazy, unpressuring. “You don’t have to.”

You hesitated. You’d never really felt the urge before—never saw the appeal. Still, curiosity nudged at you, persistent and annoying.

“…If you teach me?”

Something softened in his expression, just briefly, before a faint smile took over.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

He held it closer, waiting. You took it carefully, immediately aware of how little you knew about what to do with it. You’d seen people smoke before, sure—but holding it yourself felt strangely intimidating. For something so small, it suddenly felt like it carried a lot of weight.

And you were supposed to breathe that in?

“It’s pretty intuitive,” he said, watching you with open amusement. “Just don’t inhale too deeply.”

“That’s your instructions?”

“To be fair,” he chuckled, lifting his hands in lazy defense, “you’re probably gonna start coughing anyway. Just a heads up.”

Your eyes rolled on instinct.

You studied the blunt like it might give you some sort of guidance if you stared long enough. Then you brought it to your lips and took a tentative inhale.

Nothing.

Frowning slightly, you tried again—deeper this time.

Instant regret.

The burn hit fast and sharp, ripping the air straight out of your lungs. You sputtered, coughing hard as smoke escaped in uneven bursts, shoving the blunt back into his hand while you struggled to breathe. You were hunched forward, absolutely wrecked, eyes watering.

Enjin was already laughing beside you, completely unapologetic.

“I told you not too deep,” he said between laughs. “I gave you one instruction.”

You wanted to snap back—had a dozen words lined up—but air still hadn’t fully returned to your lungs, and all you could manage was a glare that only made him grin wider.

“Easy,” he said, laughter still in his voice as he shifted closer. His hand came up to your back, warm and steady, rubbing slow circles between your shoulder blades. “Breathe. I’ve got you.”

He guided you gently back against him, your spine settling against his chest.

You coughed again, sharper this time, eyes stinging as you tried to suck in air that didn’t burn. “You—” you rasped, grounding yourself with a hand on his leg. “You’re evil.”

He hummed, clearly entertained. “Yeah, yeah. Deep breaths. In through your nose. Just like that.”

You did as he said, partly out of necessity, partly because the weight of his hand made it easier. The coughing eased little by little, your chest still tight but no longer on fire.

“There you go,” he murmured, closer now, voice lower. “See? Still alive.”

Without really thinking about it, you leaned back, letting your head rest against him for just a second as you caught your breath. “I hate you,” you muttered—though it came out far less convincing than you meant it to.

His thumb traced a lazy line along your shoulder. “Mhm. I can tell.”

You exhaled sharply, shoulders tense. “You absolutely set me up.”

“I warned you,” he said, lifting the blunt past your frame and bringing it back to his lips. “You just didn’t listen.”

That’s when two things hit you at once.

One—you felt it.

Your thoughts began to loosen in a way they never had before. The constant noise in your head softened, blurred, fading into something distant and manageable.

And two—the position you were in.

Your hand resting on his thigh.

Your back pressed flush against his chest.

His arm lazily draped around you, like you just did this all the time. 

It was a dangerous combination. With your thoughts dulled and hazy, you didn’t have the energy to filter your thoughts about how much you actually liked it anymore.

He shifted slightly behind you, just enough that the pressure of his chest against your back deepened, and you felt the subtle weight of his attention resting along the back of your head.

“See?” he murmured, more to himself than you. “Knew you’d feel it.”

You frowned faintly. “Feel what?”

“The quiet,” he said, his finger lightly tapping against your temple. “You stopped fidgeting.”

That caught your attention. You‘d usually try to deny it—but you couldn’t. Your thoughts felt slower. Softer.

He sensed it before you even said anything—the way your breathing evened out, the tension in your shoulders easing, the subtleties of the things you didn’t do—like pulling away, or fighting back.

“Look at you,” he murmured, voice low, almost cooing. “So calm… seriously, this might be the longest stretch you’ve gone without barking at me.”

“Shush,” you muttered, cheeks warming. “M’not calm. N‘ I don’t bark.”

“Sure, baby,” he said, that word curling around your spine. “Whatever you say.”

And you didn’t even have it in you to fully process the new pet name. 

His hand found the hem of your shirt, tugging it lightly between his fingers, testing the fabric against your skin. Not enough to pull it up, not enough to be overt—definitely enough for you to notice.

You felt the faint brush of his thumb against your side with each little pull, a whisper of contact that made your stomach tighten.

“You’re kind of comfortable.” you muttered, trying for casual as you pulled your hand back—slowly, like you didn’t want to draw attention to it.

“Only kind of?” he asked, voice easy, almost amused. His fingers flexed once against your side, just enough to be intentional. 

“Okay,” you murmured, almost to yourself. “You’re really comfortable.” 

“Mm, sure seems like it,” he let out a soft hum. “You feeling tired?” 

“No,” you replied, letting your words trail just slightly. The warmth of your body pressed into his was dizzying. “M’just very good right now.”

His hand moved lazily along your side, brushing your hip with an absent-minded care that made your stomach twist. “Mm,” he murmured. “Want me to stay?”

You nodded. 

“Okay.” 

The room fell into a quiet that wasn’t uncomfortable, just… present. No teasing, no jokes—just him and you.

Slowly, his fingers traced the curve of your waist, mapping the gentle swell of your sides as if committing every line to memory.

Each movement was bold in intention yet measured, teasing—like he was daring you to react, and you found yourself holding still, caught between hesitation and anticipation.

The warmth of his touch spread through you in ways that weren’t just physical; it was the attention, the quiet focus of him exploring without words.

His hand was no longer just playing—it was present, outlining the frame of you, leaving you aware of every point of contact, every subtle press of skin against fabric.

His other hand slowly lifted, fingers weaving through your hair. With a practiced ease, he swept it over to one side, letting your thick sleep shirt slip just enough to expose your shoulder. The fabric pooled lazily around the curve, leaving your neck bare to the warmth of his gaze.

A content sigh left your lips. 

“You like that?” he whispered, his warm breath brushing along your ear. You already knew he didn’t need an answer—he just wanted to hear it from you.

You complied with a soft hum. 

He took one last slow drag of the blunt, the tip glowing faintly in the dim light. You caught the plume of smoke in your peripheral vision as he exhaled, and it curled lazily over your shoulder, teasing your bare skin.

With a subtle flick of his fingers, he sent the finished blunt spinning onto the floor. You were too caught up in the moment to care, letting the tension in your body unravel under his attention.

You don’t think you’ve ever been this relaxed.

The hand that had been tracing your side drifted lower, slipping past the hem of your shirt. It moved agonizingly slowly, skimming over the soft skin of your bare thigh, his thumb drawing lazy, teasing patterns—just a little too far up, just a little too far in.

Just a little too much to pass off as friendly.

He was giving you just enough—enough to make your skin burn—but never enough to truly satisfy the ache that had built up inside you. The moment felt charged, but it wasn’t as simple as just raw intimacy. 

His breath skimmed the skin of your neck in slow, even intervals. “You’re really soft.” It almost sounded like a question. 

You could feel his attention on you—the hazed focus of his gaze lingering along the line of your neck, the faint feeling of his hair grazing your skin. Then he inched in closer—slow, gentle kisses traced along the length of your neck. And despite all the tension coiled in your body, they weren’t meant to provoke—just soft, unhurried.

He pulled back, resting his head atop your shoulder. 

Part of you was relieved he didn’t take it further. Another part of you screamed at the loss of the feeling. 

“You’re not telling me to stop,” he whispered into your shoulder. 

And, yeah. You weren’t. 

You swallowed, fingers curling lightly into the fabric of his sleeve. “Yeah,” you said quietly, words slower than usual, “Should I?”

There was a pause. Not the heavy kind. Just enough to let your words settle.

“Up to you,” he replied easily, his thumb returning to trace an absent-minded line along your side. “I’d be a bit butthurt about it—but, you know. Whatever.”

That made you laugh. 

He stuck to caring strokes and gentle touches.

You drifted off to sleep in his embrace that night. 

─────────୨ৎ─────────

He was a simple man. At least, he’d always thought he was.

Things just failed to feel simple lately. 

Enjin sat at the table, leaning slightly forward as Semiu traced patrol routes on the worn map spread across the surface. Corvus flipped through the mission logs, scribbling notes in the margins with a pencil that had long since lost its eraser.

He answered questions when prompted, offered minor adjustments to the routes, corrected a timing estimate—on the surface, he was engaged.

His thoughts were entirely elsewhere.

They’d gotten stuck with you in your bedroom that night, about a week ago. 

The memory lingered at the edge of his mind, pulling his attention away even as Semiu traced the eastern perimeter—and he was fucked, since he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why she was outlining it in the first place.

The scratch of Semiu’s pencil across the map, the rustle of papers, the muted scribbling of Corvus’s notes—they all faded into the background. 

He could almost feel your warmth, hear the soft sighs you’d given him, see your eyes closing at the subtle pleasure of his touch. 

He understood heat, understood want—the easy kind, the kind you didn’t have to think too hard about. Touch, tension, release. He’d never been precious with it. Never needed to be.

So this—this gentle kind of caution—sat wrong in his chest.

The way his hands slowed before touching you. How instinct kept telling him to pull you closer, but something quieter told him not to rush. Like moving too fast might shatter something he didn’t quite have a name for yet.

That part confused him.

You’d always felt safe. Why did that matter so much right now?

And then that uniform. 

It should’ve been the usual—charming smiles, lingering touches, the spark of attraction he knew how to handle. Instead, it had hit him sideways. Like the sight of you had shifted something into place rather than set it on fire. Pride, maybe. Something that settled instead of burned.

The realization crept up on him slowly, unwelcome in how obvious it suddenly felt.

He wasn’t being gentle because he didn’t want you.

He was being gentle because, somewhere along the way, you’d started to feel precious.

And that thought lingered far longer than he wanted it to.

He absently rubbed the back of his neck as Semiu asked about polluted zones by the border of a No Man’s Land near the eastern perimeter. 

“Uh… yeah, those are clear,” he said, eyes drifting to the empty chair across the table, imagining you slumping into it, hair damp from a shower, in nothing but that huge shirt you’d worn that night.

Corvus glanced up sharply. “You even paying attention, Enjin?”

He blinked, shook his head slightly, and forced a nod. “Yeah, just… thinking ‘bout the deployment,” he muttered, realizing how transparent that sounded.

He’d like to get deployed with you again. 

No. Stop. Not now. 

It wasn’t about him seeing you for the first time when he laid eyes on you that day in the hallway. Something in him had been stirred awake, something that had been dormant for quite some time.

Granted, the way you looked definitely didn’t hurt.

He just hated how smitten he felt about it.

Once he realized you’d fallen asleep, breathing slow and even against his chest, he’d chosen to give you space. He’d tucked you in carefully—too carefully, if you asked him—pulled the blanket up to around your shoulders and all that. Left without waking you.

He took a shower after. Cold.

For once, he didn’t even mind that you’d used up all the hot water. He’d planned on it anyway. 

He just couldn’t believe the way he was treating you.

Enjin wasn’t selfish—just a bit indulgent. A hedonist in the simplest sense. He liked what felt good and had never been shy about reaching for it. 

He wasn’t unfamiliar with want. He knew exactly how far he could’ve gone, how easy it would’ve been to guide you there with him. You would’ve let him. He was sure of that. And he would’ve taken care of you — that wasn’t the issue.

Because, fuck—he wanted to.

So why didn’t he take you?

You hadn’t been tense. You hadn’t been provoking. You’d been safe.

Again, safe. 

He was starting to get fed up with safe. 

He clenched his jaw. It annoyed him, the way he’d held back. Especially considering the things he could’ve done to you—wanted to do to you. Thinking about making you call out his name like it was the only thing you knew how to say anymore—over and over again.

And yet. 

He didn’t. 

He replayed it in his head more times than he cared to admit—the way you’d leaned back into him without thinking. The way your voice had softened. The way you hadn’t told him to stop.

You would’ve let him.

That was the problem.

It wouldn’t have taken much. A slight shift of his hand. Turning your face toward his and closing the distance. You were already pliant in his arms, hazy and warm and trusting.

Trusting.

His jaw tightened again.

Of all the things he could’ve done—wanted to do—he’d chosen restraint.

His mouth had found your neck, yes—but only in the softest way. Slow, measured presses of his lips against your skin. It was the one thing he couldn’t quite stop himself from taking.

Even then, he’d been careful.

And when had he ever been careful?

Enjin didn’t do careful. He did instinct. He did desire. He did taking and giving in the same breath. Going with the flow of things.

This time, something in him had paused.

Not out of uncertainty. Not out of fear that you’d reject him.

Out of something worse.

He didn’t want to cheapen it. 

The thought irritated him more than anything else. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply through his nose.

Even here, surrounded by stained papers, pencils, and scattered mugs, the thought of you was impossible to shake.

Seeing you in your uniform hadn’t started this. It had just made it harder to ignore. The way you carried yourself. The way you focused. The quiet competence. It had sharpened something that had already been there.

When had he become so aware of you? Of the way you looked at him differently lately. Of the way his body reacted to even the smallest shifts in your tone.

He wasn’t used to wanting something slowly.

It was unsettling. 

Because if this was just lust, he would’ve satisfied it already.

And he was only just starting to realize it.

Semiu and Corvus started gathering their things. Somehow, the word dismissed drifted into his awareness, and before he fully realized it, he was up as well, tidying alongside them—hands moving almost automatically, thoughts still elsewhere.

Moments later, he waved them goodbye and stepped out of the briefing room, moving through the low, humming halls.

The day had passed in a blur.

He’d looked for you briefly, only to be told you’d been cooped up in your room all day, finishing reports you had let pile up and procrastinated—you really hated paperwork. 

And he just knew that about you. 

At some point, he’d bumped into Semiu in the common area. She had finished her work for the day early and didn’t really have anything left to do—she figured she’d like to use the evening to enjoy herself, or something along those lines.

Enjin had agreed.

That’s how he found himself in a crowded bar—or club—he wasn’t even sure and it didn’t really matter. He was perched at a table, smoking his blunt—as per usual—while Semiu sipped a drink across from him, seemingly enjoying the light buzz in her system. 

The music did most of the work in drowning out his thoughts. Around him, people were dancing, some were flirting, touching. Others were getting wasted, a couple were fighting. The colorful light pierced through the clouds of smoke all over the place. 

The kind of environment he usually thrived in. 

Usually—

Oh. Semiu was talking to him. 

“…many prank calls. Like, seriously, it pisses me off,” Semiu ranted, leaning back in her chair, fingers tapping impatiently on the table.

“Totally,” he replied, taking a slow drag from his blunt. The smoke curled around his fingers as his gaze drifted over the crowd, half-present, half-lost in thought.

“I’m too nice on the phone. I bet the hell guards don’t get calls like that,” she continued, voice rising slightly with exasperation.

And he tried so hard—genuinely—to listen to his coworker and friend he held so close to his heart. He really, really did.

“Yeah, seems unlikely,” he murmured, blowing the smoke upward and letting it dissipate into the dim light.

“Enjin. What’s up with you today?” Semiu pressed, leaning forward now, her eyes narrowing slightly as she caught the distracted set of his eyes.

“Hm?” He blinked, realizing she’d actually addressed him, fingers flexing absently around the blunt.

“During the briefing, too. You, like, disconnected from the world or something?” Her arms crossed over the table, resting the weight of them on it.

“Nah, I’m good,” he said, a faint grin tugging at his lips, taking another slow inhale. “Why? You worried about little ol’me?”

 “A’ight. Imma take your word for it. For now,” she sighed, shaking her head. “But also only because I’m so fed up by the calls I don’t really have the capacity to listen to you right now.” 

“Honestly,” he said, exhaling the last of the smoke from his lungs before flicking the blunt into the ashtray on the table, “works f’me.”

“You’re welcome, boo.” 

Enjin felt a dip in the seat next to him. 

In his peripheral, a woman, about a head and a half shorter than him. It almost slipped his mind that things like this happened to him more often than not—that he usually waited for them.

“Hey,” she smiled at him, feigning innocence, though they were both well aware of her intentions. “Your name’s Enjin, right?”

Ah. So he’d spoken to her before—somewhere, sometime.

He finally spared her a proper look. She sat upright, legs elegantly crossed, hair cascading over one shoulder like a deliberate portrait. A subtle flush colored her cheeks, softening her features. 

And—usually—she’d be just the type of woman he’d go for.

But today was not a usual day.

“Nope.” He popped the p with unnecessary emphasis. “Name’s Goostaf Hurgenskurk.”

The look on Semiu’s face in his peripheral was priceless—her eyebrows shot up, mouth half-open in a mixture of shock and amusement, like she couldn’t quite decide whether to laugh or glare.

“Oh, sorry,” she stammered, stepping back a little. “Must’ve confused you with someone.”

She turned on her heel and hurried away, leaving him with a faint smirk tugging at his lips. He watched her retreat, letting the brief amusement linger before his thoughts drifted back to… well, everything else.

“So,” Semiu said, raising her glass to her lips, holding his gaze deliberately as she took a slow sip before setting it back on the table. “Goostaf.”

“I don’t even know,” he sighed, running a hand over his face. “I was just trying to think of a weird name.”

“Why, though?” Semiu leaned back, tone soft with genuine curiosity. “She’s pretty. You always let a pretty girl take you home with them, no?”

“You make me sound like a manwhore,” he muttered, a defeated chuckle escaping him.

“Well…” Her voice trailed off, insinuating—just letting the thought hang in the air.

Enjin groaned, letting his head fall back against the chair. “I just don’t feel like it today.”

“I feel like,” she said slowly, tilting her head up, a knowing look slipping into her expression now, “you’re just feeling someone else.”

And—however she figured it out—he knew that she was right.

The thought settled heavier than he expected. He’d been circling it all day, avoiding it, dressing it up as confusion or exhaustion. But now, sitting in the middle of a crowded bar with music pounding around him and with his good friend sitting across him, it finally landed.

Properly.

“Fuck, Semiu,” he groaned, dragging his hands down his face before letting his forehead fall briefly into his palms. The realization hit harder than any drink or drug in the room ever could.

Her brows lifted. “Is that what’s been bothering you all day?”

“Yeah,” he exhaled, sitting back again, staring at the table instead of her. “I just—I haven’t really seen her for a week. We keep missing each other at work,” he rubbed at the back of his neck. “It’s rough.”

“You should just stop ogling her every chance you get and man up,” Semiu said, tapping her fingers lightly on the table, eyes fixed on him with quiet insistence.

“Ogling is a kind of a strong word for it.” 

“She ogles you too.” 

“Yeah, I know,” he let out a short laugh, shaking his head, before letting out a sigh. “I’m losing my mind.”

“No, man,” she said simply. “You’re okay.” A small pause. “Just let her know.”

He looked up at her. “Now?”

She shrugged lightly. “Depends—do you want to tell her now?”

─────────୨ৎ─────────

You. Despised. Paperwork. With. A. Burning. Passion. 

Hours had passed since you’d started, and the stack of reports in front of you had barely shrunk. Every form felt the same as the last, every column and checkbox an endless, mind-numbing loop.

Your pen scratched across the page, filling in numbers, ticking boxes, repeating the same information over and over, trying desperately not to make mistakes. Your eyes ached, your back was stiff, and your brain was screaming for even a single moment of entertainment.

You slammed your pen down. Enough. You needed a break. 

For a moment, you leaned back in your chair. The room was quiet, the night outside slanting through the window casting a cold light on the mess of papers. You hadn’t moved from that spot all day, and it showed.

Boredom clung to you like a second skin. Attention fractured. Thoughts wandered.

You missed everyone. Watching Zanka train Rudo from the corner of the training yard, hearing Semiu’s voice echo from the common area, even the occasional gruff comment from Delmon — all of it made you wish you could be anywhere else right now.

But you’d told everyone to stay out of your room unless it was an emergency. No distractions. No interruptions. You needed to get through the paperwork, and the last thing you wanted was someone leaning over your shoulder asking questions or chatting.

It was definitely what you wanted, though. 

Still, even in the quiet, your thoughts kept drifting. You missed him too.

No. Focus.

You let out a long, tired sigh, shoulders slumping as you rubbed at the ache in your neck. The pen hovered uselessly above the next form.

Your eyes wandered across the room, landing on the stack of completed reports next to you—neat, precise, and utterly soul-crushing. You pushed it away with a flick of your wrist. 

Enough of this.

You’d finish the rest tomorrow. 

You leaned back in your chair, stretching your legs and letting the tension in your body ease slightly. Somewhere in the corner of your mind, you imagined him there—on your bed, attention drifting into nothingness as smoke swirled gently around him, unhurried and soft—and him looking utterly peaceful. Pretty.

A knock at the door froze you mid-stretch.

Your heart skipped. You’d told everyone to stay out unless it was urgent.

Another knock. Louder this time. Your chest tightened. You hesitated, staring at the door, mind racing through every possible scenario.

Slowly, cautiously, you approached and cracked it open. 

To your surprise, it was Enjin. 

And as much as he didn’t look like he was about to deliver bad news, something about him had shifted. The air around him felt different.

No performative expression. No mischief in his eyes. No provoking glint. Something much softer had settled over his sharp features—a contrast that made your chest ache a little.

“Hey,” you said, brows knitting slightly. “Did something happen?”

“No,” he answered simply. His voice was calm. Certain. “Not at all.” A beat. “Can I come in?”

You studied him for a second longer, searching his face for anything you might’ve missed. Finding nothing urgent—just your own curiosity—you stepped aside.

He moved past you without another word. Not brushing against you, not lingering—close enough that you felt the warmth of him as he crossed the threshold. The door clicked shut behind him, the sound louder than it should’ve been.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

He took in your room—the desk crowded with papers, the stack you’d shoved aside, the pen lying abandoned where you’d dropped it. His gaze lingered there briefly before returning to you.

The silence wasn’t awkward.

It was heavy.

And whatever he’d come here to say—you felt like it mattered.

Just that he didn’t say anything. He looked at you, held your gaze as though he had all the time in the world. Like it stood still, right here in this room—with you. 

You caught the faintest dip in his gaze—just slightly, brushing over the lines of your shoulders, the skin underneath the collar of your shirt—the smallest of shifts of his irises—before returning to your eyes.

You felt like you were being… scanned. For something. But you didn’t have the capacity to commit your mind to what that could possibly be, because your focus was on something entirely unrelated. 

The breadth of his shoulders. 

The vivid reds and blacks inked into his skin. 

The loose curl of his hair falling near his temple.

He didn’t say anything. Not with words, at least. But you were beginning to understand.

He stepped toward you, slow and unhurried, closing the space without breaking eye contact—which felt like a bit of a crime in and of itself. It was unbelievably nauseating, made you feel powerless, but in kind of a good way. 

Had he always been so tall? He really towered over you—couldn’t even look at him anymore without folding your head back.

His hand found yours first, fingers curling gently as he drew you in. You could feel sparks at the tips of your own—and it hurt. It hurt so much, because all the tension in your body seemed to come crashing down on you all at once and it hurt so much it felt good, somehow. 

Then, it snaked around your waist, steady, holding you close. You didn’t quite grasp what was actually happening, you just knew you wanted more, but also anticipated possibly throwing up butterflies any second now. 

His body was so unbelievably warm and big—the scope of it so up close was a bit hard to grasp. You feel the outlines of his defined body through his thin sweater and you forgot how to breathe for a second. 

His other hand came up to cup your face, gently—so unbelievably gentle, like your skin might crack under anything more; it almost made you cry. 

His fingers slipped into your hair, careful, slow. His thumb moved back and forth along your cheek, steady and soft. Tender—and you started wondering when you would have ever described him that way. 

You were beginning to understand.

Your initial hesitance vanished into thin air along with the ability to think straight. 

And all the what-ifs and maybes that had been crowding your mind melted away the instant he pressed his lips against yours

The sound of your heart pounding mixed with the ringing in your ears; you were certain you were about to die, if it wasn’t for the way he was squeezing your frame against his, like he promised to catch you if you were going to fall. 

He was slow. Tentative. Testing the waters, as if silently asking for permission you’d already given him a million times over in your head. 

His grip on your waist tightened just slightly, almost accidental—trying so hard to hold back, yet his true immediacy shone through the cracks of his performative reluctance. 

He had been just as desperate to do this to you as you had been to have it happen. 

You felt the butterflies do their thing again—and it was fucked up how easily he’d given them to you, with something as simple as a kiss and a couple touches entirely unraveling you. 

Shivers trickled down your spine at the sensation of him, of it all; his warmth radiating through the fabric of his sweater, his lips moving with your own in a painfully—agonizingly—slow tandem. 

Then he pulled back—no more than an inch—your soft, warm breaths mingling in the small space between you. A lazy, faint smile on his face. 

“Hey,” he exhaled.

A simple word. It didn’t mean anything, really—but it did. And you understood.

“Hi.” Your voice almost ran out. Airy. Barely even there.

His grin widened, before he leaned back in again. Initially soft and merciful touches turned more intense, intentional; a firmer grip on you, a stronger tug on the back of your head, tangling into the strands of your hair at the nape of your neck.

Your body, your mind, your everything seemed to solely focus in on him. There was nothing more important than this, him kissing you senseless and holding onto you like you were going to disappear if he didn’t. 

You felt him grow impatient with each passing moment—pulling your body even closer by the small of your back—and you couldn’t help but notice how large his hand felt there. He angled his head just right to deepen the kiss with natural finesse. He was everywhere—filling all your senses, overwhelming your system in ways you never thought possible.

He smelled of faint hints of tobacco, though he tasted a lot fresher than you’d expected—almost minty in flavour. The mix of cigarettes and mint made for a spicy tingle on your tongue and all you could think about was how it kind of fit the man you were holding onto like a lifeline. 

Your hands found the nape of his neck, feeling up the short hairs of his sharp undercut.

You were trying to catch a thought—any thought—at least a single word—but you hadn’t taken a proper breath in nearly half a minute, and it was definitely starting to affect your ability to think clearly.

That he hoisted you up by the underside of your thighs with controlled ease a moment later—not breaking away from you for even a second—did not help in the slightest. He took a few steps somewhere—before your back met the hard surface of the wall behind you.

Your legs comfortably tangled around his waist as he pinned you against it with his hips, hard. The hand previously on your cheek joined the other on your waist, fingers digging into your side, abandoning any idea of slow and tender.

Your own hands traveled beneath his collar, nails dragging across bare skin and if he didn’t have this tattoo you were sure there’d be deep, red scratches there. 

Groans rippled through him with every drag of your nails, the sound shooting straight through your stomach. It only seemed to provoke him further—pulling you closer by the arch of your back and pressing you against him, his fingers digging in just enough that you knew you’d feel it the next morning.

The kiss turned messy. There was no sense or rhythm to it, only pure instinct and insatiable hunger for the other. No matter how close he was—how deeply his fingers dug into your skin—you still felt like he couldn’t be further away. You wanted him closer, as close as physically possible and more. 

He moved on towards your neck and it was nothing like the faint pecks he’d left there that night a week ago. This was him devouring you, moving right on the edge between pleasure and pain. His kisses stung as he bit them into your skin, likely tainting it with red and blue hues. “You feel so fucking good,” he whispered, basking in the way your body twitched—your sweet gasps nothing short of music to his ears. 

Once he felt like he was done with one place, he’d continue his assault further down along the blank canvas of your skin, leaving only stinging spots behind, before finally returning to your swollen lips, leaving one single, slow and deep kiss. 

“Enjin,” you heaved—the first time you were able to take a long breath in a hot minute. 

“Mm?” He hummed, leaving lazy pecks on your lips, eyes entirely dazed. Sometimes, he’d move it to the corner of your mouth, your cheek, your jaw—just peppering you with gentle kisses, taking his sweet time with it. 

His grip on you told a whole different story.

His huge hands encasing more of you than you could have ever expected, pinning you against him with little to no effort, like your weight meant absolutely nothing to him. And why would it? He was easily two times your size, if not more. 

“I need—“ kiss.  “—more,” another kiss. “Please.” 

He pulled back an inch or two, a faint yet devilish smile adorning his face. “More of what, sweetheart?” 

His head dipped back into the crook of your neck, lips grazing the newly mark-ridden parts of your skin, leaving a couple more soft kisses along their pattern. “More of this?”  

And he was well aware that that was not what you meant. You knew he knew that was not what you had meant—and it was frustrating to no end. The ache between your legs was getting more unbearable by the second. “No—want you to touch me,” you whined. You tried to ease the tension by pulling him closer, shifting your hips against him—every attempt in vain.

He had you pinned securely in place, and there was no adjusting it without his help. Without his permission. “Please, Enjin.”

“I am touching you, baby,” he huffed a breathy laugh, before holding his hand out to you, offering it. “Here. Move it to where you want me, sweetheart.” 

You held his gaze for a moment, weighing your options. It hurt your ego to have to admit this to him in such a degrading way—and still, a part of you felt so cared for. Your pride urged you to save face, but given the position you were in, there wasn’t necessarily much ego left to save. If accepting his offer meant getting the itch scratched you so desperately needed attention for, then it was simply what you had to do.

And so—without breaking the eye contac—you took his hand in your own and first guided it down the like of your body and underneath the hem of your shirt. His brow quirked slightly, eyes darkening as it met the plush of the inside of your legs. 

Ever so slowly, you moved it a couple inches further in and further up, until his fingers finally met the sole layer of fabric separating you from what you’re asking of him. 

The smile that grew on his face was something else. 

He shifted, properly supporting your weight on one leg while keeping you steady with a hand snaked around the small of your back. Then, without hurry, he tugged the fabric aside, running his fingers along your sore, wet folds.

His gaze tilted down to where his hand disappeared beneath the fabric of your shirt. “Damn, baby. You’re soaked,” he let his fingers dip into you for nothing more than a couple inches before running them up and down again—tracing you. Memorizing you. “Fuck, that’s hot.” 

The sounds that left you would have left you feeling quite embarrassed, if you weren’t so distracted right now. The relief of the friction did a lot to sate your desire for a moment—but you could already feel yourself wanting more. 

He seemed to have picked up on it as his fingers moved upwards to solely focus on your wanting and waiting clit. Your eyes shut close at the sudden feeling of him finally giving you what you’d needed, gripping at his shoulders for dear life as if you’d fall if you didn’t and whining his name through broken breaths like a personal mantra.

He hummed. You felt his muscles shift beneath your palms, like his head had tilted upwards—like he was looking at you again. “Yes, pretty girl?” 

“S’really good,” you exhaled, opening your eyes only to see Enjin already fully focused on you through your hazed vision. 

“I know, baby, I know,” he cooed, corner of his lip faintly quirking upwards. “Wasn’t even gonna do this with you,”—he leaned in, eyes falling to your lips before catching them with his in a short kiss—“was gonna come here and tell you how I feel. Wanted to spend more time with you, ask you out on a nice date, do it right this time—but you,” his eyes met your gaze again—this time, more intense. 

His previously tender attention towards your clit turned overwhelming in an instant. The pad of his finger moved a little faster and harder now—each deliberate stroke drawing a sharp, involuntary twitch from your body.

You’d never felt so overstimulated, every sensation heightened to the brink, and yet some reckless part of you was completely, helplessly into it.

Soft whines slipped from your mouth, and if anyone happened to be on the other side of the wall you were pressed against, you were certain they’d be able to hear you.

“Looked up at me all doe eyed like that. Said ‘please’ like that.” His fingers dipped into you without warning, two of them filling you more than two fingers ever should be able to, but, of course, Enjin and his blessed, huge hands, took little to now effort to make you see stars. “This what you wanted , sweetheart?” 

“Mm, yes,” you breathed, pure instinct taking over as you pulled him back in by the nape of his neck.

It drove you insane—the way you felt his jaw shift against your palm, the slow graze of his tongue along your bottom lip, the steady curl of his fingers inside you, again and again and again.

“Mm,”—he separated from you for a moment—“s’just for you, baby,”—before leaning back in. His fingers curled inside you again and again, brushing that sensitive spot that made your insides tighten and your skin burn in ways no one had ever made you feel before. 

He had something about him—some kind of chemistry that felt entirely unique to Enjin. That towering height, those striking features, paired with his addictive charisma that showed in the way he talked to you—in the way he touched you, kissed you.

It wasn’t demanding in a forceful sense. It was unraveling. It was simple. You were willing to hand yourself over completely—without him ever having to ask. Like some sort of spell. 

Without breaking away, his fingers slowly slipped from you ever so slowly, drawing a soft whine from you straight into the kiss. You felt the faint curve of his smile against your lips. Then his hands were on you again, firm and sure as he hoisted you up against him and carried you away from the wall. 

The edge of your desk met the backs of your thighs as he eased you onto it with controlled care, settling you against the surface. You felt the edges and corners of the sheets of paper you’d just been working on minutes ago right beneath you, itching and poking at your skin. 

With one last, teasing bite to your bottom lip, he pulled back from your kiss-swollen lips with a devilish glint in his eyes.

He lifted his fingers to his mouth—the ones previously teasing you beyond measure—and licked them clean of you without breaking his hazy gaze from you. You could tell he was doing it just to mess with you—and it was working unfortunately well. 

Your attention drifted to the thing repeatedly pressing against your inner thigh, and a mix of curiosity and anticipation washed over you. 

Given the size of him—his body, his hands, his limbs—you had expected him to be a certain… size. And in a way, he met those expectations. But to feel the bulge of him so intimately pressed against you made it hit you all at once—now that your bodies were pressed close to flush against one another. 

This man was big. 

Your hand reached towards the hem of his pants, almost instinctively, before his own hand caught yours by the thin of your wrist. Looking back up at him you noticed the corner of his mouth curled upwards. “Not now, pretty girl.” 

Your head tilted in response. “Why not?” 

 “Some other time. Jus’ wanna focus on you today,” he brought your hand within his towards himself, leaving a couple of gentle pecks along the inside of your wrist.

“But what about you?” 

“I’ll enjoy you, baby,” he leaned back in, pausing just an inch before, a devilishly charming smirk resting on him. “Don’t worry your pretty head about it.” 

His lips found yours again, trading a few more heated kisses before drifting to the corner of your mouth, along the line of your jaw, and down to your already tender neck.

He roamed your body with no shame, tracing your every line—from the swell of your chest to the plush of your hips. Groping at your sides and circling your waist with his hands, before pushing you backwards for you to lean against the wall behind you, forcing himself between your legs, casually. 

His hands found their way between them again, collecting the slick on his fingers, before lazily drawing patterns over your pulsing, sore clit, drawing all sorts of sounds and reactions from you as passively pumped his fingers in and out of you every now and then, like it was just second nature to him. 

His kisses trailed downward—past your heaving chest, along the curve of your stomach, across the warmth of your thighs—before his head finally settled between your legs, where he left a mix of teasing love-bites and gentle, lingering pecks on the insides of your thighs.

“You’re very kissable,” he commented from his position on his knees, looking up at you as he guided your legs to rest atop his shoulders. 

The sight was charged—this huge man, both in height and breadth, overwhelming in body mass and bearing the authority of the head of your team, kneeling there in front of you. Something about the commanding way he held himself even in that submissive posture. 

It didn’t make him any less impressive—or any smaller—in your eyes. If anything, the juxtaposition only made him more magnetic.

He looked fucking hot.

His hair all messed up, lips kiss-swollen, mirroring your own, skin covered in a thin layer of sweat, eyes dazed with pleasure and radiating the sheer power he naturally carried. His brow was quirked ever so slightly, a faint, mischievous smile on his face.

“Is that why you bit my neck raw?” you asked, looking down at him through your own daze, fingers grazing through the short strands of his hair, not much bite in your voice despite your words.

He huffed a laugh, and your heart skipped a beat.

“M’about to do much worse than just eat your neck, babygirl,” he said lowly, his hot breath traveling past the thin skin of your inner thighs, his gaze traveling downwards. 

And with that, his tongue dipped through your folds, dragging a slow lick up your heated, pulsing core. Your breath shuddered, your hand gripping at his hair to anchor yourself as he worked you up.

His hands wrapped around your thighs, your feet resting on his shoulders as he pinned you against his face, tongue dragging up and down through your folds and making a point to flick your sensitive, aching clit in the process.

“E–Enjin… ah—s’ so good.”

You felt him suck it into his mouth, toying with it between his lips before letting it go in a wet kiss and continuing his assault. You felt like the meal of a starving man.

He had no shame in the way he was eating you—the sounds he was making, the way he was practically making out with you. What you’d yearned to feel was finally coming true, and your body and mind seemed to sing with the relief he was finally granting you.

He pressed the flat of his tongue against your clit, rhythmically dragging it up and down. His fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs, holding you against him as to leave no room for escape—at least not until he was done with you. 

This man you’d known to be so indulgent in his own pleasure now shifting his focus entirely onto you left an impact that would haunt you for the rest of your life. No one had ever treated you the way he did, touched you the way he had—made you feel the way he was making you feel.

You’d certainly never experienced anyone going down on you of their own free will—let alone seeming to take pleasure in it themselves. 

No man, no less.

And yet, here he was, caging you against him, just in case the pleasure he was giving you became too much to handle—which, judging by the way it was building up, it already was starting to feel that way. He definitely wasn’t letting you go.

The friction drove you crazy, made you feel as though you were floating and falling all at once. You couldn’t decide whether to pull him even closer or push him away, but you knew that everything about him felt so fucking good and something was building up inside of you that only he could unravel.

One of his hands loosened its grip on your thigh, sliding down and around it, before two fingers began pumping into you, curling against the spot Enjin had claimed the moment you had guided his hands between your legs.

“Ah—please don’t stop,” you writhed and you whined, eyes shutting close at the overwhelming feeling of him flooding your senses.

“M’right here, baby,” he breathed against you, before turning his attention back to your puffy clit, fingers deep and curled inside you. 

Pleasure twisted into an intoxicating kind of pain—the rare kind that made you ache to explore it even more. It burned, it stung, sharp and sweet all at once, and yet you knew with absolute certainty that if he stopped right now you would shatter into a million miserable pieces. 

Without warning, he suckled your clit into his mouth again, flicking his tongue over it as his fingers pumped in and out of you with relentless rhythm. Your legs instinctively clamped around his head, trying to shut out the overwhelming sensation, to push him away—to no avail.

Your body reacted on its own, trying to relieve the strain he was putting on you, but your mind wanted nothing more than to keep him as close as humanly possible.

“M‘ gonna… please… s’so much,” you whimpered, forever torn between pulling him closer and trying to escape.

That only seems to edge him on as he raised the intensity, moving harder and faster in every way imaginable and making you see stars and cry his name like a desperate prayer.

“Enjin—fuck, s‘so good, please-” 

Your climax crashed over you, leaving you trembling in the wake of it.

Like the good man he’d proven himself to be, he guided you through it, helping you ride the wave, tracing lazy circles over your clit with his tongue while his fingers moved in slow, languid rhythm. Finally, he pulled back with one last, gentle kiss to your now tender and abused clit. 

He slowly rose to his full height, hands flat on the surface of the table, encasing your pleasure-drained body, your torso leaning half against the wall.

“If I had known you taste this good I’d have done this a lot sooner,” he smiled, catching your lips in a kiss you couldn’t resist if you tried. 

“Mm,” you replied in a haze, returning the pecks he was giving you and tasing yourself on lips tongue. “Can I return the favor?” 

“As much as I’d love to see you try, baby,” he smiles, helping you off the desk as he scoops you into his arms effortlessly, making his way to the bathroom with you. “How about we take a hot shower together and I take you out on a date first?”

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CREDIT WHERE CREDIT IS DUE :3

thanks to my amazing beta readers @zukunyy and @imjusttrashignoreme

thanks to my boyfriend who helped me write a service top because he just can

and thanks to @pixopix for the dividers :3

A/N: AND THANK U GUYS FOR READING <333 I’m planning a part 2 to this because I need me so dom Enjin and I’m actually more of a fan of oral m!receiving anyway sooo yeah that’s gonna happen hopefully :3 again, thanks for reading—I’d appreciate a reblog if you liked it ･:*+.\(( °ω° ))/.:+  if you have any requests you can definitely lmk

[lxnarphase]

enjin who is nothing but a pathethic man when it comes to you and your pussy, constantly stuttering and slurring his words whenever you try to talk to him while he's buried between your thighs.

"c'mon, pretty girl, doooon't," he whines, eyes barely focused as he pushes against your hand that's trying to pull him from your sticky cunt, string of slick connecting him back to your plump mound. "p-pretty please? i don't need t' breathe, not with this in front of me."

"enjin, calm do—ffuck!"

the second you late your guard down looking into those pathetic puppy dog eyes, he latches right back onto your puffy, overstimulated clit with a low, needy moan. he sounds like he's on the verge of crying as his tongue rubs endless circles against you.

he's just so greedy, so hungry for it, chasing you up the bed as you try to scramble up the bed away from his mouth. "nonono, babyyy, stop runnin' from me, just lemme have it."

once he locks his arms around your thighs and lifts them up, you know you're fucked.

with your hips off the bed, lifted up toward his face, you can't do anything but wail, his mouth glued to your pussy as he sloppily sucks, slurps, and licks at you like he's been starved of you for years.

"don't ever take this away from me, baby," he gasps against you, barely taking any time to breath. "if you do, 'm gonna fuckin' die...can't live without you and this perfect pussy, need you like this every day."