doll⋆°🦴

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞i love enjin

[umbrellaslut]

“ DOLL 𓏲𑁘 she/her 𓏲𑁘 bi 𓏲𑁘 fem / gn reader 𓏲𑁘 gachiakuta ; aot ; jjk ; csm ; mha 𓏲𑁘 sometimes nsfw and angst 𓏲𑁘 im overly freaked out 𓏲𑁘 likes and reblogs appreciated hehe 𓏲𑁘 ill write for basically anything, just rq “

ill try to post regularly ,, just be patient pls ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

PART 1: AND IF I SAID YES? (you won't be too lost if you read these out of order, btw)

Song Suggestion: Chase Atlantic -- Friends

🔞 CW: Explicit sexual content / NSFW (18+), Threesome dynamic (M/M/F), Established relationship (Enjin x Reader, Gris as welcomed third), Voyeurism / exhibitionism (Enjin watching), Power dynamics / light D/s energy, Orgasm control / edging, Begging kink, Praise kink / instruction kink, Mentorship vibes (Enjin "coaching" Gris), Hands-only (so far) / external stimulation, Verbal dominance, Sensory overload / reader overwhelm, Maybe some dub-con here, Filthy bestfriend energy between the guys

WC: 3400 +/-. These 3 are obviously too problematic for me to keep it short and sweet. You're welcome ;).

A/N: @southside-otaku and @kenpachisbrat started this. @kazutora-kurokawa asked for it to continue. Me, cackling into the sunset ->💃✨💃✨.

READ PART ONE FIRST!! AND IF I SAID YES?

(Gris x Reader | Enjin's Trap)

You didn’t even hear the front door open.

One second, you were on the couch, curled up in a blanket burrito with a bowl of half-stale popcorn, and the next - a low, familiar voice rumbled from the doorway.

“...The hell are you watchin’?”

You bolt upright so fast you nearly launch the popcorn. The blanket tangles around your ankles and your heart goes full cardiac arrest mode.

“G–Gris?! You’re - early.”

He’s already stepping inside, hoodie half-zipped, hair messy like he towel-dried it and said good enough. His boots thud across the floor and his eyes are glued to the TV.

Onscreen: breathy moans, a man with suspicious abs, and a woman on her knees - enthusiastically occupied.

You fumble for the remote. “Oh my God - I didn’t even - this was just on - I wasn’t - I was folding laundry!!”

Gris raises one brow, then - sits down next to you. Like it’s nothing.

Like you aren’t dying inside.

“Y’just watch whatever’s on, huh?” he says, arms stretched across the back of the couch. “Even when it’s… that?”

You’re mortified. You look like someone who planned this. Like some thirsty housewife who wants to fuck her man’s best friend. But the worst part?

This isn’t the first time Enjin has “accidentally” left you in awkward situations.

He knows you clean in the afternoons. Knows you collapse on the couch after and watch whatever’s on. Knows what’s scheduled on that ridiculous late-afternoon adult channel. He has joked about it.

And now Gris is here. Early. Alone. And Enjin?

Nowhere. To. Be. Found.

You swallow, glancing at the clock. “He said he’d be home by four.”

Gris checks his phone. “It’s almost five.”

Oh.

You clench your fists in your blanket. Try to change the channel again - but the remote slips and rewinds to a scene even worse. You yelp and slap the screen off.

Gris chuckles. “Cute.”

You snap your head toward him. “What is?”

He shifts closer. Just slightly. Just enough to make your skin burn.

“You. All flustered like that. Like you’re not thinkin’ about what we did the other night every time you blink.”

You can’t speak.

He leans in, lips brushing your ear.

“Y’know Enjin wants me to touch you when he’s not around, right? That was the whole point, wasn’t it?”

Your breath hitches.

Gris sits back like he didn’t just light your brain on fire. Like he’s waiting. Patient. Knowing.

The door creaks open.

And Enjin’s voice, all smug and innocent, floats in:

“Hey, babe. Gris beat me here, huh? Damn. Hope y’all weren’t too bored without me.”

You turn to glare at him.

But Enjin’s eyes flick to the remote in your hand…

Then to your flushed cheeks…

Then to Gris’s fingers still draped behind your neck - 

And he smiles.

Like he just won.

Your breath catches in your throat.

It’s been over a week and a half since that night. Since they had you pinned between them, wrecked and worshipped and made to forget your own damn name. You hadn’t talked about it since. Not really. Not out loud.

And now Gris is here. Sitting next to you. Watching you squirm.

Knowing.

He sits back, draping his arm behind you on the couch, pinkie brushing your shoulder. The TV is still blank. But the room is so loud with tension you can barely hear your own heartbeat.

Enjin notices.

And he smiles.

Then he notices Gris’s hand casually playing with the edge of your blanket…

Slow.

Knowing.

Like this was the plan all along.

Like he’s been counting the days since that night.

Like he’s ready to start the clock over.

Enjin moves into the kitchen like he doesn’t know what he’s done. Opens the fridge. Gets a drink. Doesn’t even look at you.

It’s quiet.

The kind of quiet where every breath feels suspicious. You swear you can hear the heat rising off your own skin.

And Gris is still next to you. Still calm. Still watching. The TV is off, but he hasn’t moved since the moment Enjin walked in.

You don’t look at him. You can’t.

“Y’know,” Gris says, so casual it makes your stomach flip, “I could lie and say I showed up early by accident.”

Your head turns slowly.

“But I won’t,” he adds, resting his ankle on his opposite knee. “’Cause I didn’t.”

You blink.

“I knew he wasn’t gonna be here yet,” he continues, stretching his arms behind his head. “He told me you’d probably be on the couch, tired, watchin’ TV. Said you don’t check what’s playing - you just let it run. Sounded… familiar.”

You’re paralyzed. Like prey. Like you’ve walked directly into a trap - because you have.

“And I knew exactly what time that filthy-ass movie block starts,” Gris adds, tilting his head. “So yeah. I came early. On purpose. You gonna yell at me, sweetheart?”

Your jaw drops slightly.

“You - both of you - set me up?”

“Oh, nah.” Enjin finally speaks from the kitchen. “I set you up. He just signed on as my accomplice.” He walks back in holding a soda can and shrugs. “Told him it’d be more fun this way.”

Gris grins. “And damn if it ain’t.”

You’re quiet for a long second. Then you reach for the blanket. “You two are so - ”

“Wait,” Gris interrupts, voice sharper now - lower. “You didn’t hate it.”

You freeze.

He leans forward slightly, just enough to crowd your space without touching you. “You liked sitting there with me while all that filth played. Didn’t even change the channel for like five minutes.”

“That’s not true,” you whisper. Trying hard to hold your ground when really, you’re no better off than a newborn deer. 

“Oh, honey,” he drawls. “You don’t lie worth shit.”

Enjin, standing off to the side now with arms crossed, smirks. “Told you she’d blush like hell but not move an inch. You owe me ten bucks.”

Gris chuckles but doesn’t look away from you. “How ‘bout I pay you in moans later if she lets me finish what I started?”

Your breath catches.

They both watch you.

Gris leans in close, lips ghosting the shell of your ear.

Like wolves circling.

Like this was always going to happen.

Like they knew you’d say yes again.

Because it’s been a week and a half.

Because you’ve been thinking about it too.

“Say the word,” he murmurs. “And I’ll give you exactly what you think about at night when you're all alone with your hand between your legs.”

You gasp.

Enjin’s already peeling off his hoodie.

He tosses it onto the arm of the chair. His shirt clings in the front, damp near the hem, rising a little when he lifts his arms to stretch his shoulders back. His eyes flick between the two of you, his brow cocked in mock curiosity, like he's watching an experiment he already knows the outcome of.

He starts pacing the room slowly. Not fast. Not agitated. Just… circling. Stalking. Like a lion pretending it’s not hungry. Like he’s giving Gris a turn with the raw flesh before he dives in for his share.

On the couch, you’re still clutching the blanket, heart pounding against your ribs, mouth dry, thighs clenched under fleece and shame.

Gris shifts beside you.

He doesn’t say anything. Just reaches out, fingers curling under the edge of your blanket.

And you don’t stop him.

He starts to pull.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

The blanket slips down over your legs, catching briefly at your knees before Gris tugs it free. His hand goes still. His eyes drop.

And then - 

A low, slow, long whistle.

“Wife beater. Black bra. Tiny pajama shorts.” His tongue clicks against his teeth. “You always clean house in shit like this?”

You open your mouth. To deny it? Defend yourself? No idea.

He doesn’t give you the chance.

“Might as well be bare-assed, honey.”

You whimper.

Enjin stops pacing.

His eyes drop to your thighs, then drag up your torso like he’s exempt from gravity.

“I told him you’d be like this,” he says, voice low. “Said you always end up sprawled out in somethin’ that makes it real hard to behave.”

Gris hums. “Was it this bad last time?”

Enjin laughs. “Last time, she was tryin’ to play shy, remember? But tonight... mm. No. She wanted us to see this.”

You squeak out a “did not,” but your voice is paper-thin. Embarrassed. Betraying you in real time.

“Oh, honey,” Gris says, grinning, “you wore those shorts knowing what they’d do to us. Hell. What they'd make us wanna do to you.”

Enjin sits down in the armchair like a king on a throne. Legs spread. Elbows resting on his thighs. His shirt’s riding up just enough to show the cut lines of his stomach. He doesn’t blink.

“Well?” he asks. “You gonna let him touch you, or are you just gonna sit there and blush for an hour?”

Your head snaps toward him. “You planned this!”

Gris chuckles beside you. His hand settles on your thigh. Warm. Heavy.

“You keep sayin’ that like it’s a bad thing, doll.”

You’re breathless.

Trapped between the heat of Enjin’s stare and the weight of Gris’s hand. His thumb begins tracing circles just above your knee, and your skin blows up with goosebumps like it’s mapping earthquakes as they're happening.  

“Y/N,” Enjin says, voice suddenly lower. Rougher. Serious. “Let me see those eyes when he makes you fall apart.”

Gris grins wider.

And you?

You start to move.

Because it’s been a week and a half.

Because they waited.

Because you want them to see.

Gris’s hand hasn’t left your thigh. Not even once. It just lingers, heavy and patient, the pad of his thumb rubbing slow, mindless circles into your skin like he’s got all the time in the world.

And maybe…

You want to be bare after all.

You can’t stop watching Enjin.

He’s sitting in that goddamn chair like this is the greatest thing he's ever orchestrated - shirt riding up, legs spread, eyes laser-focused on the two of you like he’s getting paid for every twitch in your face, every catch in your breath.

“You’re nervous,” he says suddenly, voice quiet but sharp. “Not scared. Just buzzin’. Overthinking. You always do this when you want it bad but don’t know how to ask for it.”

Your mouth opens. Closes.

Gris chuckles. “She always like this?”

Enjin tilts his head, his smirk slow and smug. “Mm. When she wants to be good.”

You make a wounded sound in your throat, and Gris feels it - feels the tremble in your leg.

“She’s real responsive,” Enjin adds, leaning forward a little, forearms braced on his thighs. “Start at her knees and work up. Light touches. She’ll go still, like she’s trying not to fall apart.”

“Sounded like she already was.”

“Oh, she is. But she won’t give it up right away. Not unless you push.”

Gris slides his hand up your thigh, just slightly, fingers curling toward the inside. “Like this?”

You bite your lip hard.

“Yeah,” Enjin says, voice thick. “Just like that. Don’t even go higher yet - just tease. Let her feel how slow it’s gonna be.”

Gris hums low, his palm dragging up another inch. “She’s already warm.”

Enjin smiles like he built you that way.

“Course she is. She’s been sittin’ there thinkin’ about it since you walked through the goddamn door.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Gris leans in beside your ear. “That true, sweetheart?”

You can’t answer.

So Enjin does it for you.

“Wet, ain’t she?”

Gris’s eyes flick to yours, then back to Enjin. “You wanna find out, or should I?”

Enjin huffs a quiet laugh. “Go on. I won't stop you. She ain’t gonna stop ya either.”

Gris moves his hand. Bold now. Confident. And Enjin doesn’t look away. He’s not touching you, not even close - but it feels like he is. Like every breath from his mouth is tethered to your skin.

“Slide up the inside of her thigh. Use the backs of your fingers first. She likes that better than grabbin’. Too much too fast and she’ll stiffen up.”

Gris follows instructions like a professional. His knuckles drag soft and slow up the sensitive skin, and your legs twitch apart just slightly - begging.

“There she goes,” Enjin murmurs. “Told you.”

Gris’s voice is rough now. “You want me to touch you?”

You nod. Small. Desperate.

“Use … your … words,” Enjin says, not moving. “Y’know how this works.”

You look straight at him. “Yes. Please. Touch me.”

He grins - broad and bright and wicked.

“Good girl.”

Gris slides his hand up higher, fingertips brushing the hem of your shorts.

“She’ll tense here,” Enjin says. “She always does. She’s afraid it’s too fast, but it’s not. Keep going.”

Gris slips his hand under the waistband.

Your hips jerk.

Your breath shatters.

“Easy,” Enjin says, still watching. “She doesn’t want gentle. Not really. She just wants to feel owned.”

Gris groans.

“You’re fuckin' drippin', sweetheart,” he says.

And you are. Ruined and panting and already on the verge before anything’s really happened.

Enjin finally stands. Walks toward you. Slow. Deliberate. Circling behind the couch now.

“You okay?” he asks, bending down near your ear, his hand ghosting over your shoulder - but not landing.

You nod.

“She’ll always say yes right before she falls apart,” he tells Gris. “You gotta keep her right there. Let her beg.”

Gris grins. “You like beggin’, sweetheart?”

You do.

You do.

And Enjin?

He already knew that.

Enjin hasn’t touched you once.

Gris has his hand in your shorts.

And Enjin?

But you feel him more than anything.

He’s behind the couch now - close enough to whisper, to see everything, but not close enough to give you what you desperately want from him. His voice is steady. Soft. Like he’s reading instructions from a page he wrote himself.

“Don’t go straight for her clit,” he says, and Gris lets out a breathy laugh like damn, he almost did. “Tease around it. Keep your fingers slick. Brush, don’t press. She gets sensitive fast, and if you do too much - ”

Gris traces you slowly, exactly how Enjin said. Your hips stutter forward, chasing more, but he pulls back just slightly.

“Yeah. Like that,” Enjin murmurs, almost to himself. “She won’t beg yet. Not this early. But her thighs’ll start to shake soon.”

And they do.

Gris smirks down at you. “You’re already this close, honey?”

You nod, eyes fluttering.

Enjin hums like he’s satisfied. “Told you. She walks around with all this tension in her body all day. Barely lets herself feel it. Soon as someone gives her permission to fall apart…” He trails off, smiling like he’s watching his favorite scene unfold.

Gris shifts closer to you, kneeling now on the couch, hand still buried between your thighs. His other arm wraps around your waist to steady you as your legs start to tremble.

“You keep doin’ that,” he says, voice low, “and I’m not gonna make it easy.”

“Don’t,” Enjin replies smoothly. “She likes when it’s not easy.”

Your fingers curl into the cushion. Your breath hiccups.

Gris strokes again - just right, just light - your hips lifting without permission.

“Slower,” Enjin says. “You’re gettin’ too greedy.”

“She’s greedy,” Gris counters, laughing softly. “Listen to her.”

You let out a sound between a moan and a plea.

“She’s close,” Gris says.

Enjin’s voice drops. “Good. Now stop.”

Gris freezes.

So do you.

“What?” you gasp. “No, please - please don’t - ”

Enjin smiles. “See? Told you she’d beg.”

Gris looks over his shoulder. “You want me to really stop?”

“No,” Enjin says. “Not completely. Just… hold her there. Let her hover.”

Your thighs shake harder. Your body burns.

Gris obeys.

His fingers stay inside, but his thumb stops moving, just resting against you - waiting.

“I hate you both,” you hiss.

Gris presses a kiss to your temple, then your forehead. He leans down and brushes his nose against yours. “You say that, but you’re drippin’ all over my fuckin’ hand. There’s a fine love between love and hate, darlin’. And I think you’re confused about where one starts and the other ends. ”

Enjin chuckles behind you. “She’s always like this. Melts under praise, burns under pressure. But never walks away. Never needs a safe word. She’ll take everything if you give it slow. But ya gotta know how to play with 'er. Gotta take the time to get to know what the rules are.”

Gris strokes your inner thigh again with the back of his fingers. “She’s shaking.”

“Mm,” Enjin says. “Keep her there.”

You sob a little. Half-laugh, half-broken.

“She’s gonna cry, Enjin.” Gris murmurs, in awe. You can see the flicker of concern in his eyes. Like he’s the one who's going to take this too far. 

“Let her,” Enjin says gently. “She’s beautiful like this.”

And still - he doesn’t touch.

And he’s not letting you cum.

He watches.

He teaches.

He knows you.

Not yet.

You’re trembling.

Gris has moved you now, half-straddled in his lap, his fingers working you slow and steady beneath your shorts. Not fast. Not deep. Not enough.

But close.

You’re so close it hurts.

Your breathing’s ragged. Your nails dig into his arm, your other hand clutching the couch cushion like a lifeline. Your hips roll instinctively with every stroke, chasing the finish line like you’ve done anything here to have actually earned it.

And now?

Enjin’s back in that damn chair. Arms folded. Watching.

Smirking.

The worst part? He hasn’t touched you. He hasn’t touched himself. He’s just… sitting there.

Studying you.

“Gris,” he says, voice soft, “don’t let her cum.”

Gris slows his hand immediately.

You make a noise. A real one. Desperate. Destroyed.

“Please - please, no - ”

Enjin’s voice is low. “She not ready yet.”

Gris keeps his fingers inside you, but stops his thumb again. His other arm curls tighter around your waist to keep you from grinding down, from trying to finish the job yourself.

“She’s right there,” Gris says, breathless.

“I know,” Enjin replies, voice calm. “I know exactly where she is.”

You look at him.

You gasp, blink hard - eyes wet, lip trembling.

“I can’t,” you whisper.

“Yes, you can,” Enjin says. “You're going to.” The look on his face is tighter. Less amused. More invested.

Gris strokes again. Just once. Just enough to make you jolt.

“Gr-is - please - ” you pant.

Gris leans close, lips brushing your ear.

“You want me to let you cum?” he murmurs, breath warm. He juts his chin in Enjin's direction. “Then you need to ask him.”

You shake your head, but your body betrays you - grinding against his hand like you’re starving.

“C’mon,” Gris purrs. “Be a good girl. Ask him.”

You turn.

You look at Enjin.

And he’s already waiting.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “All worked up just from someone else’s hands.”

“Please,” you whisper. “Please, Enjin.”

He cocks a brow.

“THAT - is not a question, m'love. Try again.”

Your lip trembles.

“Can I - can I cum?”

“LOUDER!”

“Please. Please let me cum.” You're nearly in tears from how close you are to exploding all over Gris.

He hums, tapping one finger against his chin, pretending to think.  

“Yeah,” he says softly. “You can cum, baby.”

Gris groans.

“Oh, fuck, she just squeezed - ”

He doesn’t have to say anything else.

You come apart in his lap like a thunderclap.

Your body arches, locks, breaks - Gris holding you, coaxing you through it with low praise and deep, slow strokes. Enjin watches the whole thing. Proud. Possessive.

His girl. His rules.

When it’s over, you slump forward. A boneless puddle. Shaking. Gris strokes your back, murmuring something soft that you don’t even hear.

And then - finally - Enjin stands.

He walks over. Slow. Quiet.

Leans down. Tilts your face up with two fingers under your chin.

“You were perfect,” he says. “But you know what comes next, right?”

Your eyes flutter open. “What?”

“That was for Gris,” he murmurs, mouth grazing yours. “Now you’re gonna come for me.”

… PART 3 ON THE WAY 💕

@darkstarlight82 @breathofthewind29 @bakubunny @delirious-donna

[southside-otaku]

Sarah I- I can’t omg I may never find a real man attractive again wtf😩😭

[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.

——

[ewnamored-deactivated20260512]

✦ COUNTERCURRENT ✦ ENJIN X FEM!READER ✦

• SUMMARY: What goes around comes around. Post-sex conversations have become the most Enjin ever commits to, but at the same time, they are inching towards their final catastrophe. Holding you through the tears-drowned sex is all comfort he can offer to someone who’s a bit rough around the human edges. You have yet to realize how deeply you have fallen into the trap of needing another breathing body beside you, even if the relief you seek is always inadequate. He’s not any better, circling his teammate with his own compulsion.

• CONTAINS: dark content, cleaner!reader, dub-con due to reader’s emotioniality during sex, hurt and angst/little comfort + bittersweet/hopeful ending, possible canon divergence due to an extended timeline and weather-based worldbuilding, cycles, dark imagery, unhealthy fwb situation, unhealthy coping and co/dependency, bad aftercare, reader has an avoidant personality and unspecified traumatic past, animal death, using painful sex as comfort (but Enjin stops reader), bleeding during sex, reader always cries and dissociates during sex, catharsis, discussion of having children, (kind of) pregnancy scare but reader isn’t pregnant, non-explicit smut, suggestive, swearing, unsafe sex, smoking, manga spoilers. WORD COUNT: 16,3k.

• NOTE: 1. Hello for the first time, or hello again. ❤️ I’ve been working on this fic for weeks now, rewrote some scenes, but it is finally here. 2. Since Enjin’s past is still a big mystery, I won’t lie, this fic has a major flaw: me assuming things and creating theories about him that are not yet cleared up about his character to fill in some canon gaps. I still aimed to keep the reasons for the certain behaviors of his in this story as vague as possible. (This is the price I pay for not being patient enough but who knows when we’ll know more about him. Enjin just makes me want to write.) 3. I hope you’ll enjoy your read (angst or not)! It’s much longer than I originally planned for it to be. I focused on the dynamic a lot.

NOVEMBER 22ND OF THE CURRENT YEAR, FALL.

It’s hard to tell what's still real at this point, albeit troublesome things are a guarantee of the fact that you’re still there — they hit with a double force enough to keep your senses awake, an eddy pushing itself down to your toes.

In moments like this, Enjin’s voice becomes a distant whisper, lost among the broken gears in your mind, muffled by them igniting sparks against as they collide with the tar of contemplations that your body struggles with expelling. Overwhelmed with the malaise that can be heard ricocheting with every of your sobs, it’s only the cheap thrill of another touch that allows you to erase the weight of your own existence.

Despite what your lips call for, you still can't hear him. You suspect you’re inaudible too, your lips moving on their own with the voice you can’t claim as your own; you at least would find it equally disturbing and shameful how fast it’s crumbling in its cadence. “Harder… Enjin…”

The fulfilling is as distant as ever, as it is close — teasing with its balmy touch, only to never develop into a sun in full. The taut, searing pressure blooming between your pelvis is the closest you come to feeling like something, somewhere — you’re full of him, hidden gaps filled by his wide size.

The fantasy bursts when the anticipated wreck on your nerves is cut short, forcing you awake.

It’s just you. It’s just him, panting above you, motionless, scrupulous in watching you with conflict, as you’re holding onto his arms. Even the creaky, wooden bed placed under the window stands still, reminding you of the closeness it keeps dragging you back into — as if waiting for the moment it can bind you to itself forever, just as Enjin’s arms pinning you to the sheets are doing now.

There’s no concern visible clearly — it has become the luxury he no longer works hard for to be able to afford. Pointless, if he knows you’re perennial in your fissuring he can’t stop; burdensome, that he refuses to let you take him down there with you. He’s only restless, frustrated with the fact he’s incapable of understanding why.

You think he’s handsome, with eyes full of piercing honey; through the mirage of your tears especially, distorted just enough not to startle you with whatever judgment might lie there. You think you’ve known him all your life; after seeing that face so many times as you unravel beneath him, you can recall every detail of his features and tattoos. There’s more worship in that habit than most of the trash rain on the Ground will ever receive.

This ritual is still never welcome, if it had crept up your mind at your weakest.

He still doesn't know you, his coworker who remains as secretive as he is. Enjin can see you’re real, Enjin can comprehend the idea of you wearing your troubles, but Enjin cannot fix whatever you’re making up for by letting him use your body, nor can he fix himself.

You realize he’s speaking to you when his hand ends up over your jaw, warm and real, but hesitant to offer anything else that won’t be a false promise. Stuck in the daydream, you nearly grab his in return.

“Yes? What’s up? Why stop?” you pose the question drowsily, dazed by the world being blurred for at least a few minutes. You’re melting in his arms holding you securely enough for you to not slip away entirely; he’s heavy and tobacco-pungent on top of you, leastways anchoring your physique to present.

A few minutes are hundreds of seconds, hundreds of seconds swell into hundreds of thousands of milliseconds. In this light, the fleeting moment stretches into near eternity. With each minuscule breath with pleasure blooming over your long-hardened essence, you’re temped to stay here forever.

He grimaces, lips and brows tightening, as he observes how annoyingly unaware you are of your own unmooring. “You were crying…” his rasped voice falters with uncertainty as he explains, though his aches for you haven’t lessened inside of you.

The verbatim acknowledgment of your state — one that never stopped him in his pursuit of your body — sends a defensive pressure into your muscles, turning them rigid under the bitter for you reminder. You suffocate his biceps for a second.

He fucks you in his room, both bodies screaming for a raunchy release. Halfway through, tears come unbidden — the only time your walls you’ve held up for years crack under the weight of your vulnerability. Unable to be raw and console you, he can only hold and fuck you harder until sobs fade into your exhaustion. If you're too sore to go with tears still unyielding, he eats you out until you're done. It wasn’t like this originally.

“I always do, what about it?” you scoff, threading a right amount of playfulness into your weeping to fight his intention of denying you. Hurry, Enjin, hurry, you plead inwardly, feeling that you’re regaining awareness of the tears’ molasses sticking to your throat, your skin drying under the salty tracks, and the soreness transcending the pleasurable level — you’re coming down to reality too soon.

“It’s different. I can’t explain why, but it is. You sure you don't need a break?” he grabs your chin, firm yet gentle, insistent in his demand for a sound answer from you. The honesty he’s seeking is not about the true nature of your tears. Enjin doesn't believe he could soothe you the way you’d need it — if you’d even let him — but he refuses, at the very least, to make you worse.

“I’m just tired more than usual. You know, the Raiders’ mess just keeps piling up for us Cleaners,” you argue casually. “I can take it. Don’t you dare to stop when I’m about to finish,” the need in your tone slips out too easily, even as your heart is busy tearing itself apart before it can mend itself enough to live another day. A greedy creature is the role you fall into the most earnestly when sex is the one thing everyone is known to desire, and the one indulgence you need most of all.

Enjin scrutinizes you again. Before he could decide you are underestimating your strengths, you beat him to it — wrapping your lips around his thick finger, sucking with all the wantonness you know he loves, showing you're still not about to become a pulp, squashed by your own emotions coming in deadly tides.

The next press of your body into the mattress has you thanking him.

After you’re both done and he wipes his own mess from your body, he covers you to then pull you close. It’s merely an arm being thrown across your waist, yet you still are inclined to force down the visceral urge to move him away from you. As if curling yourself into his arms would account for the image of him letting you close being out of pity only, with you proving to be far from the solid mass you he once knew.

But he keeps your two sweaty bodies under the blanket close, burning you with his presence and not allowing distance for the sake of what’s been brewing in you for the last few months.

Your eyes go through a drought soon enough. Now they burn, each sting honing the lines of the desaturated reality for you. At least it’s quiet now; still with ataraxy beyond your reach. There’s only a torpor pressing itself between your bodies like an intruder, then raising its ghostly hand to smooth over your head until it is empty again. You’re most peaceful post-orgasm, even if you can’t feel your legs.

“You’re good now?” he asks, casualty betrayed by the awkward undertone, fitted for the man unaccustomed to dealing with crying women.

He can sense the strain you have never allowed to drip and bleed on the surface of you — neither during the missions you have run together, nor during the moments you fooled around for giggles like old friends. However, between the two of you who refuse to pry about each other's histories, ‘good’ is only the synonym for “not willing to cry again”, no “are you actually doing alright?”

For your answer, you can only nod your head on his shoulder, comfortably numb. Tender, spent, and already having forgotten the nasty ghosts of your past that had tried to resurface through your first tears before Enjin made you cry these out properly. Lock them, open the cage storing them, lock them again.

You typically avoid looking at him right after your display of emotion in all kinds of colors, worried that the vulnerability still hanging loose in you will firm up the risk of attachment to Enjin — a little of intimacy goes a long way. Being naked as the day you were born is just the tip of the issue’s iceberg. As his other arm is shuffling around his bed, your eyes are tracing the lines of the Too Lily poster instead.

Under the terrible light of Enjin’s rusting desk lamp barely scratching the gloaming atmosphere, she's almost mocking you with her eyes full of something you don't have. She’s painted into an inanimate object, yet it’s you lacking vitality. She’s scraping your ears too, the upbeat notes Enjin put in the background before you’d come still playing.

You shake yourself off the dream with the laughter, charmed at the cigarette being placed between your lips, not the rightful ones. You’re reanimated, finally looking at him looking at you with no clear emotion. “You're quitting smoking or something?” you tease, watching him scowl — Enjin doesn't share his tobacco treasures easily.

That earns you a scoff, safely played as nonchalant a veil for his next words, “Not worth with the withdrawal guaranteed to be the pain in the ass. I deserve little something when everyone around is so demanding. It’s you who looks like she might use one.”

You raise your brow at his proposal, as if saying “you care?”, also safely light. Ultimately, you don’t protest against extending sharing the poison even after the sex is over.

And yet, you think him then lighting up the cigarette for you is the most romantic thing he has even done for you — the proximity of your face this close to his, in this position, for sure awakens your heart, just as it wraps it in anxiety.

The smoke doesn't hit your tear-scraped lungs well, coming as an unappreciated guest and forcing your features to twist into a caricature of your face. The glee you hear in response is heightened after your cough you can’t help either.

“Damn,” he barely stifles his mocking guffaw, one grinding your gears.

You roll your head on his shoulder, shaking it with disapproval. “Shut up, I haven’t smoked in ages, and—what the hell do you put in those! It’s a whole bomb! How do you even smoke that?” You wave the cigarette in front of yourself, staring at it with disgust, as if pointing out its intoxicating quality. The stench soon takes over his entire room, adding to the smell of sex, and adding up to the invisible layers he’s been building up here for years.

Then the leftover of smoke you exhale settles in you. Goes into the crisp that provokes your post-sex dizziness, as well the empty stomach begging for food, until the velvet layer is coming with cathartic peace and sticks to your chest. Thrumming your heart, lively, for at least a second. He hands you over the ashtray, setting it on your stomach.

“You mean to say: you screamed louder for more your throat is all rough. Enjin, Enjin, please—”

His crass taunt is interrupted by you throwing a pillow at him, pretending you find being the butt of his joke funny yourself. Pretending you're not instead humiliated by the reminder of your pleas. Scared he doesn’t mean the pleas that come out as innocent at first — full of lust and desperate to be fucked — but the later ones, that develop into being full of sorrow, over who knows what.

“Hey! Don’t get your panties in a twist, takin’ everythin’ so seriously…” he grumbles, knocking your shoulder with his, as if to shake off your supposed stiffness, turning his head to grin at you.

The silence that falls after is not as funny. Your exhaustion would have appreciated it if his silence wasn’t something you tend to find dreadful. You’d much rather hear him say something both so appalling and humorous, than be made to think he’s quietly evaluating you and your today’s actions.

Although, he really is romantic — you realize that after noticing no separate cigarette is being lit for him, as he’s stealing it from your moist lips instead. You glance down at his fingers, shivering from them brushing you gently as he departs it from here.

“Just a half today?” you remark, looking away again.

Now it’s him turning oddly defensive, furrowing his brows with irritation at his being perceived. He looks away too. “’m tired. Doubt I can stay awake enough to smoke the whole thing… and who can afford burning two cigarettes, at the same time?”

The scintilla of sadness that comes in at the thought he’s doing no more than using you to avoid the cigarette waste feels comical to you.

And yet, something within you tries to split open again when he places a light hand on your arm he then starts stroking. He has recognized your today’s particular restlessness, and the fact he did startles you; on top of the lingering skin sensitivity he’s provoking. You hate being scrutinized, analyzed, assessed, assumed about— especially by him who seems in tune with emotions of those around on another scale, oddly for someone who still refuses to commit to a woman.

The second stroke, and you remind yourself it’s still not given to you with the embodiment of happy to, merely, not cruel enough to leave you be. Whatever is there to Enjin himself, he also cannot leave a root he’d regularly come back and tend to, watching it grow into a flower with time.

The fourth brush, and you wonder if his silence is exposing he’s beating himself up for not addressing the elephant in the room: what has happened to you that you cry as if the world is ending? Crying is self-explanatory, but Enjin doesn't know what you’re crying for, as he’s never asked or started a conversation about those tears… or who you really are, at the core of yourself.

The eighth touch, and you think you don’t want him to ask anyway. He’s just your teammate and friend you fuck. He’s not someone that owes you responsibility for your blues. He’s not a person that deserves a right to speak about the consequences of withholding past. He’s not your boyfriend especially; he does not want to be any woman’s anyway.

The twenty-eighth kiss and you’re so absentminded again, you don’t notice him looking at you this close to him. You’re busy observing through the lenses of his room, heart rhythm synced with his. You’ve been here many times, you’re trying to crack his mystery over and over.

The hefty smoke produced repeatedly had jaundiced some things — curtains and sheets especially— yellow, and you wonder if you had made the effect worse, with your presence alone.

You think he’s messy, as he is wild, exactly replicated in his room: from the cigarette maker spilling scobs on the tiny TV stand, through the bottles clinking over the collapsing dresser, to the laundry on his chair still waiting to be stored. You notice some porn magazine you’d tease him about more awake too, and then the wallpaper peeling off you’d gladly tear off to hide yourself under. He also needs to clean that nasty dust from his dark furniture.

You’re glad it’s not your own room he takes you in, as you’d remember him in your own items, or the scent you suspect you can never wash off from yourself or your room.

Your mind stretching thin, you’re next watching his fog’s wisps curl like inside of a shaken snow globe, twisting into different ribbons, wings, and flowers, tiny dancers coming onto the scene of the grimy room. Elaborate but jagged, mesmerizing and distracting you with a fleeting beauty in the trash land. Something enthralling your own mind cannot ever be. You’re blinking only every time he presses the ash onto your stomach.

By the thirty-fourth contact, he hands you the leftover of the cigarette to roll on his side, his touch gone yet still all over you. You take a drag without thinking, pressing your lips to where his own were just seconds ago; clinging to the kiss you stupidly imagine it is, for a heartbeat feeling like a real one he never gives.

Only then do you start theorizing he’s lied about being practical, has extended his cigarette to comfort you instead. About to fall asleep, he could have claimed he was avoiding waste this one time you also smoked — but if that were all, wouldn't he have just handed you a neat half? Something as small as taking turns still feels too intimate for a man like him. This tiny gesture is the only way you’ll see him show empathy; Enjin never does it verbally nor through “grandiose” gestures.

You really need to go, before that fantasy would get to your head. He’s really weird today.

With the first rather obnoxious snore you hear, once you gathered your clothes and shit together, you and the smoke are gone from his room.

On your own in your cold room again, feeling much emptier than his, you are forced to acknowledge the shift in the air. You can feel it in your bones: the upcoming dry winter on the Ground will be harsh, and so you go back to past to recount your moments with him — and he does too, from across the building.

Back to not the first winter together, but the first winter written this nightmarish way. Then the cycle’s seasons after. Until another winter will come.

The idea of winter or any season described in the texts about the Sphere that weren't redacted is difficult to follow without a calendar. The seasons in the Sphere are artificially created, yet based on real, ground-based seasons before they raised themselves into the air and before the trash became all there is to the atmosphere.

Solstices and equinoxes down here manifest only in the shifting length of days, though on the Ground the light is perpetually dim, obstructed by dust anyway. According to the Cleaner's archive, weather on the Ground differs drastically from that above the Sphere, warped and disordered by the pollution. It’s always somewhat warm and dry here, with an often stagnant wind, heavy with smog.

You’ve become obsessed with using the idea of seasons to track your own relationship with Enjin.

DECEMBER 21ST OF THE LAST YEAR, WINTER DREAM RECOLLECTION.

Many pages of your calendar have been turned with a nagging sense of something going amiss. The past left lacunas that you taped shut; not enough to avoid the cold zephyr of something or someone occasionally flying through. Some memories are blurred, difficult to identify; and some are vivid as blinding neons of the Canvas Town, coming to you at nights with Enjin.

The type of incompleteness no of the beautiful spectacles world shows could satisfy, food satiate, and people fix. No remedy for it that’s not as useless as licking your own wound.

Even your Vital Instrument is only a cement to fill the desiderium from the surface, not inside, and you wrapped its meaning around what you wish would have been protected. Like a dependent non-Givers call your kind, you’re nurturing your precious item over and over; you let it shine under the light and appreciate its detail, you let it destroy, you let it turn worn from the usage like you do to yourself. And yet, nothing changes.

You used to manage the hovel yourself, not letting anyone have a glimpse on it or offer something to restore it, knowing that most prioritize the importance of their own survival above someone else’s problems. Letting yourself bleed in front of the sharks is not an option.

And Enjin had to ruin that safe management for you.

He yanked you out of the jungle of emotions you had learned to navigate, its vines always carefully avoiding your steps. Instead, he threw you into its deep and acid waters, forcing you to confront them until you were drowning and begging for help, not knowing how to swim.

Seeking hedonistic things do is the closest you ever came to achieving at least the temporary kind of completion in your entire life; at some point, it started as an episode, the first point being a bar before you even joined Cleaners per his request.

Enjin has been the nearest in your reach, as he was the one you clicked with the most, and outings regular enough to meet your demands would have been daunting to schedule anyway.

But this one night, any motives born purely out of need for pleasure were shifted into personal, the oxytocin from another warm body cracking you open. In hindsight, worrying about having to sleep with a stranger instead maybe wasn’t so bad, in comparison to doing so with someone you’re associated with.

This one blunder you made — one of those originally only lusted midnights ended with you allowing the intimacy of sex to unleash the Pandora box of your stored up emotions. The storm of sudden tears was unanticipated by you both. In your defense, you never had any chances in defending yourself — let someone close, open a tiny of gap of your heart and legs for them, and the dams you had built up for years start cracking on their own.

They can store a lot, but their material is still fragile.

The first time you cried mid-sex, Enjin thought he has hurt you. He’s never seen you cry before, and while he believed you naturally carried your own baggage like anyone else on the Ground or between the Cleaners, he assumed you had learned to keep it in check. Learned to like he did himself, which is why he wasn't afraid to get close enough to end up in the same bed; to be able to let go of horny consistently was all that he wanted from you at first.

The instinct to stop was immediate, but with you so inconsolable, he quickly realized this is no physical pain — someone like you would handle it better. He should have stopped, but with you vitreous and breaking in front of him, the pull on his heartstrings still working to this day was enough to win over. Holding you, while still fucking you through your tears, hoping exhaustion would obfuscate your pain — that was all his obdurate brain could have thought of.

He has never held a woman properly, in a way devoid of motives. A normal man would have cuddled you on your side, trying to talk to you; he did so on top and still inside of you, silently.

And oddly to him, you let him, blurring the lines of pain and pleasure with each sob, until there was nothing left in your memory’s evanescence. Nowadays, this act of capitulation holds the title of the worst mistake you have ever made since knowing him.

You both knew you should have walked away the moment he suffocated you with silence after, unable to offer anything real and empathetic. No proper worry more other than clean and tuck you in, as the decision to send back you this small would have haunted him all night.

You didn’t anticipate the relief of crying your heart out would be of this magnitude, forcing you to realize you have underestimated the tension you carried under all the debris you were suppressing for years.

You couldn't go back to living normally after only single time he held you like this, having had the taste of both comfort and release you thought you’d never require enough to need another person. Something you had never admitted aloud to him, playing the role of a woman not needy or clingy that he hates, but of a woman free and adventurous, seeking out to indulge herself.

Chasing relief, except it’s stuck in the loop, as you need one more after the first ends, and then another, and then—

So this cycle will keep happening, like a recrudescence. Too caring to let you just cry, too closed up to take care of you properly. Too hopeless to stay away, too proud to admit you need someone’s hand to hold.

He knows how to provoke, what to stroke, and what to scratch; being fucked over and over will get you in this headspace the closest to nothing and everything.

You will always end up all over him, eager to do no more than handle your sex drive; you will always end up under him, singing threnodies and telling him it’s about to rain. The only words that will leave his mouth during the act are affirmative about his pleasure, purposely avoiding the topic of your tears at hand, saving his dignity and yours.

One heart open is a lot between you two, and unraveling his own is not worth the pain or responsibility.

It will be both of you getting to know you again, meeting the real you for the first time, previously unaware of who you are without the self-modifications.

It will scare him when sometimes will see himself through you, vicariously reliving his own past without having to cry about his own too — because you will cry for the both of you, the warm and cold air coming together.

MARCH 20TH, EARLIER THIS YEAR, SPRING.

Sometimes, you dream of a single red circle, porous red ember, burning bright against the dark. The cigarette guides you, but the space never gets truly lit up by it — it only chokes you with its cancerous smoke. Enjin has been already corrupting your dreamscape by the time spring came.

The next sharp turn Enjin takes with the jeep car jolts you awake.

You’re still on your way back from the Polluted Zone, exhausted after a successful mission — the beast itself was not the problem, as it was the fact call you received came in very early of this morning. Nestled between Riyo and Rudo, the latter is mutually growling something at Zanka next to him, but is also too tired to make it a proper fight. In the row behind sits Tomme, resting her legs across the free space comfortably.

The serpentine trash beast fell apart, mostly by its own undoing, ironically after trying to outsmart you all by burrowing under the trash-sand. It bit its own tail, snapping with its fangs pointlessly when it could have dodged both its own teeth and your blows, choosing to stay stuck in a loop instead.

The caller behind the job was mysterious, asking to stay anonymous, with a promise of a sweet extra bonus as an incentive.

Yawning, you stare at the desert’s red clouds of aerosolized trash forming and sticking to the windows from outside, sad that you can't see the mythical sun that’s supposed to linger at the sky. Its only substitute is the weather unbearably hot today, air warmed by the trash.

You imagine the artificial springs of the Sphereites is much more beautiful, something that could actually make you happy: green, lush, petals and leaves coming alive, pollen making you sneeze, blue sky. In the Pit, there’s not even flies to feast on the rotten garbage, that would work almost as hard as bees once did.

At least, you hope it is better like that up there, not daring to ask Rudo about the truth.

When a familiar tune Enjin’s currently blasting suddenly reaches your ears, you tense up into a more awake state. Looking at him in the front, you get to see a cheeky glance given to you in the rear-view mirror. Unable to believe this asshole is playing the same music he did last night, you glare at him.

“He’s bothering you again?” Riyo asks with a knowing smile, used to the little games between you two that whirl around the Headquarters daily.

She only won’t show if her knowledge about your dynamic goes beyond the evident friendly banter, in the ways that would be clear to you, not insinuated. You wouldn’t put that past her, knowing she’s a smart girl. In the narrow space of the truck, the weight of what she might know makes it hard to breathe.

She’s still loyal to Enjin. If she does know something, she won't ask about that.

“By having a shitty music taste? Definitely,” you reply dryly, closing your eyes again. You're so tired today you manage to sleep even though Enjin’s rocky driving.

You’re forced to reopen few hours later them when Tomme yells from behind you, “Enjin, watch out! You’re about to hit a cat!”

The force of the car’s sudden stop sends everyone flying to the front, soon weaving you into a bundle of limbs.

“Now. Why would a cat be right in front of us instead of moving out of the way?!” he yells dramatically, making it everyone’s problem. Then hits the steering wheel with his face, gripping the edges of the leather.

You’re surprised he managed to stop a car in time with his driving skills at all. Which doesn’t save Enjin from thrown groans at his incompetence any more.

“Maybe it’s blind and deaf— Hey, get away from me!” Rudo yells.

“It’d still feel the vibrations,” Zanka says bluntly, pushing the boy away from him.

“But why would a cat be here in the first place…” Tomme hums with worry and straightens her body, patting her clothes down.

“We can at least guess it’s in a bad condition,” you realize, untangling yourself from Riyo’s hair. “Let me see.”

Before Enjin could stop you, you’re already stepping out of the car with Tomme and Rudo trailing behind you like a cat rescue squad, everyone putting their masks on.

“Great,” he grumbles under his nose. He follows you all anyway, too curious and maybe a bit protective, while Zanka and Riyo stay to shut an eye for at least a minute without being thrown around or growled at in the sardines’ can.

The assessment of the cat’s state is not bringing promising results. You all gather around a female, gray-tinted white fur feline. Even with everyone now closer to the Headquarters, the lighter dust here is not something to ignore either.

“Poor thing. She must have been abandoned by someone from the nearby town, then poisoned by pollution… look at her heaving…” Tomme murmurs, brushing her hand away when the cat flinches from the pain. “I doubt she has much time left. She still stayed strong for so long…”

You absentmindedly rub Rudo’s shoulder as he tries to not cry, his shoulders shaking and he biting his lip. You imagine it feels personal especially to him.

You eye the nearest rock. You don’t want it to suffer, and suspect letting the cat go quickly would be more merciful, but you doubt Rudo would forgive you.

Then it starts raining; you flinch under the drops, having forgotten how rare rain is with the trash pollution stopping any coalescence. The first taste of Spring, cleansing, as it is staining with acid. Rain always makes the moldy and sour stench around worse, amplifying the deadly mixture of burning plastic, rotting food, chemicals, human waste and decomposing bodies.

Lost in your thoughts, you forgot about Enjin standing above you all lamenting over the cat as well. You narrow your eyes when he extends his umbrella over the cat. He’s not letting her run cold for at least the last moments of her life.

None of you say anything for a while, like a silent prayer in funeral. You’re given time to think about your own past, staring at a glass item spilling out from one of many trash bags around.

Enjin finding you in your favorite bar, some spring, you drinking away your soul. You barely remember what was that shitty flirt like he threw at you, also curled embarrassingly drunk, eyeing his big hands and sharp jaw instead. Both strangers meant to do no more than hook up in a love hotel, until you alcohol-vulnerable blurted out you also were a Giver, curious to know what it means exactly, in the pink bed after. Soon, he was chasing you week by week, strict, aiming to convince you to join the Cleaners, and then preferably his team.

Then you remember coming closer as some kind of friends — if friends’ definition only was supposed to be knowing how to joke, not unite — still sleeping with each other, no tears coming to ruin things just yet.

You might as well be the cat lying at your feet, defeated by some kind of poison. But unlike her, there’s no umbrella for you to be protected from the toxic rain.

The cat is soon gone. As Tomme walks poor Rudo shaking back to the car, you watch Enjin give the cat a proper burial from whatever trash heaps he could utilize — an old shoebox she’s put in, a barely torn blanket she’s wrapped in, the contraption covered with a pall some Sphereite’s white silk scarf is.

“Alright, let’s go.” he says laconically, then turns around towards the car. You wonder just how familiar and friendly with death Enjin is.

You trace his steps, allowing yourself to watch his back for a moment as you pick up the object of your previous attention, then speed up to be in front of him, shaken by the rain and the whirlwinds that are forming.

He doesn’t see the tiny snowball you slip into his coat’s pocket.

Back inside the car, Riyo poses you an interesting question. “They say cats have nine lives. Wonder what eight lives this one went through previously,” she muses. “Anyway, can I do your hair once we’re back? Pretty please?” she clings to your arm like a child refusing to be denied.

Your eyes widen, more so to mock than criticize her choice to stay imperturbable. “You’re discussing hair styling right after discussing death?”

“Well, sadly animals die all the time… if I had to stop to cry about every, where would I be right now?”

You suppose antipathy to death is only natural. However, how many lives do you have left? You’ve been through so many, you’re worried it might be your eight already.

You guess only a demiurge would know, for now covering you in caducity.

JUNE 21ST, EARLIER THIS YEAR, SUMMER.

The summer has fooled you, allowing a lighter day to turn into a lighter mood between you both, as if everything was over and you were allowed to go home. In reality, it was only a momentary fantasy of the longest day in year.

You ask him this after sex: “Where the hell did you come from? I’ve known you for quite a while now, but this dilemma remains unsolved…”

It’s supposed to be a jab at the mystery surrounding Enjin, pronounced as frivolous and non-binding by the soft circles you draw on his forearms’ tattooed clouds. It’s quite frustrating you can comprehend only the idea of himself he’s made for others as if some wannabe enigma; this itch of curiosity is against your will. Information is a currency itself, here on the Ground.

Just his tattoos alone are a whole conundrum. It’s a shame you can’t afford Kuro’s services.

You even question if the place Semiu told you about is in actuality the place he has a wanderlust for — the town he runs to chase skirts. Considering he was in the Polluted Zone on his own when he found Rudo, this being an occasion he definitely had to come clean about, who knows where else he goes, under a disguise being a womanizer would give him? Who he sees is something you have never asked about anyway… for the sake of your peace. It’s not as if he needs more of good sex than you already give him, as the only thing he thinks he’s supposed to want from you.

It's not as if Givers had ever won a good reputation among other people.

Although, you for sure believe him when he’s claiming he can't handle women’s emotional needs. Yours especially are of high maintenance to him.

The shivers previously drawn out by your touch bristle harder under the pressure of the question that still lands as oppressive for his cherry Enjin’s past-picking ears. “Well, where did you come from?” he deflects playfully, tone low and relaxed enough to fool.

He’s even sexy to you today, relaxing his body against the headboard. Sweaty from what he did to you and the heat outside, warm hair ruffled from your hands that you want to touch it again.

Everything seems just right today: the weather less windy of trash, the whisky in your hands, his smile, you wearing his t-shirt and bruises. Enjin’s room is particularly clean today. You only hope you could see Sun and blue sky, filtered of dust in the clouds. Must be summer — you’re fully thawed after winter, yet you’re only another six months away from it coming again.

Now it’s your turn to turn tense and pivot. “Out of my mama’s womb, duh,” you scoff dryly.

Enjin bursts into a booming laugh, enjoying the ridiculousness of your answer, having to hold his stomach. The sound rings nicely in your ears, and so you lean closer to him on the white sheets.

From the point on staying down on your belly, your face above his, it’d be very easy for you to kiss him… till this day, you don’t know what kind of kisser he is — soft and then rough, rough and then soft, always soft and gentle, always rough and hungry? You’d let him steal all of your breath, if only he could hold you close while he’s at fondling your lips. They itch for him sometimes.

“Nah, that’s come out from, not come from,” he highlights the difference with an annoying to you lilt.

“I asked first anyway,” you slap his bare shoulder, earning yourself his petulant look, but almost flinch at skin touching skin. Sometimes you forget how his closeness veils you with odd and contradictory feelings. Apparently, post-sex hormones are not something you’re being spared from either.

You sit up and extend your arm above his body, giving him a view of your breasts under his t-shirt bunching up and adhering to them, as you’re reaching for the box of cigarettes. Back to next to him, you raise your brow at him having no banter to your slap; an ass slap is the least he’d do.

“Well? Or are you thinking about something else right now? Two somethings, round-shaped?” you tease, then on your knees, you put a cigarette between his lips.

He looks at you with a question. It almost turns you nervous, but how do you tell him you don’t like changes, attached to stagnation and no hurricanes unpredictable is? “You always smoke. I thought you forgot to… or something,” you shrug your shoulders and flick the lighter you’ll steal again, soon watching him inhale.

He is your vice, so you expect him to keep up with his own, just to keep things balanced.

He doesn’t pry at your “kindness” behind helping him smoke. Nor does he tell you cigarette today felt unnecessary with you as his vice here. “Hm, very mindful of you,” he finally speaks, muffled by the filter in his mouth.

You roll your eyes. “And I’m still waiting.”

“Like I’d tell you,” the response is a murmur, as if maintaining quietness to dim the topic of his life, before it could develop into more inquires. “Besides, I’d be looking like a loser if I were one upped by you having some story that’s far more tragic than mine,” he jokes and takes the stick from your hands. “Not that I’m saying mine is tragic,” he adds quickly and takes a drag, wanting no assumptions.

You pout, regardless of being glad he’s maintaining the distance as always. This dramatic expression has him wrapping an arm around you and pushing you down next to him. “Anyway,” he yawns. “Playtime is over, firecracker. We’ve got a mission tomorrow, and I don’t want you slacking off because you’re tired.”

“Me? You’re the one slacking off,” you grumble, knowing you’re not wrong.

“You’re sorely mistaken,” he drawls… characteristically lazily.

“Come on—sorely?” you frown, suddenly remembering how sore you are. How will you even walk tomorrow, let alone fight? You want to blame him — his size and roughness — regardless that you begged for it.

“See what I did there?” he grins, satisfied at the successful distraction from you making accusations.

“You know, Enjin, nights are my favorite. It’s quiet, so you can think in peace. But with you next to me, all I can think about is murdering you,” once you say the petty stuff and he snickers, you turn away from him in bed. It’s too many sensitive questions for today anyway. It’s snowing the Sphere’s stardust outside the headquarters again, the wind is restless from the heat tonight, but that’s something to lull you into sleep.

When the biting words are soon replaced by your light snores, that gives him enough time to reflect. For once, he lets you sleep next to him, the first day of summer. If he spoils you only one day out of three hundred thirty-five, that’s still not an exception to the rule — if he had to make excuses. His free hand rests on your head.

He knows it's wrong. He knows what this — whatever excuse of intimacy using you through your tears is meant to be — is doing to you. He’s always been self-aware of his own shortcomings, as well of those belonging to those around. Believed in learning from the mistakes, always improving his mind, thinking you’re never too old to be without something you still have to outgrow. With you, he fell into inertia.

You’ve become unable to go about your days without being held this way, no matter if previously you were self-sufficient. He’s become unable to deny you, especially with the sensation of your nails clinging to his back with desperation, them begging for him to not let you slip into your own head, now fully written into his body’s wires.

The storm brewing under his ceiling coils into a vortex, pulling in every dark thing left unsaid — poised to strike you with feelings neither of you can handle, or destroy you entirely. You’re already wearing your heart on your sleeve at nights together.

Above all, you and Enjin still have a mission to fulfill. There is no time to fuck around, literally as well figuratively.

He should have not begun this, the thought passes through his mind for the one hundred thirty-seventh time in the last months, as he’s adjusting a blanket draped over your body and veiling you from him. If he did, where was he, not refusing to let it happen again for at least another, fourth, eight, twenty-eighth time?

You wouldn’t know this: he’s a coward, wanting you too much to let go and not doing enough to keep you properly. The coward to bang his fist at the gates of your citadel while never inviting you in to his. Suspecting you’d turn away from him eventually, this was the only way to make you stay.

Enjin takes in the big, sixth puff, and stubs it out on the ashtray, hissing sound making him wince when it shakes him awake.

He likes picking up broken people and pushing them until they think they have gained a new sense of self-purpose. With you, he’s helpless without fail. You're frozen in time, focusing on holding and hiding the pieces he now knows are more fragile than at their face value, instead of reorganizing them until they make new contours, or not having enough of them left. There’s a big difference in advising someone and holding them anyway.

Seasons change and start things anew, but maybe you wouldn’t know with no trees around to tell time, and you’re also poisoning the soil, with salty tears as the accomplice to the ever-present trash doing its labor. It’s summer and you’re still stuck here.

Enjin finally lies down beside you. He counts the empyrean stars he’ll never see along the constellation of your spine, fearing they might dim if he comes too close. Although as his hand brushes your back, he finds out nothing falters in your glow. You only press closer, and it is he who must pull away, shielding himself.

He has learned to move with the seasons, only taking shelter under his umbrella when the rain comes, silently wishing you’d find your way beneath it. In the crowd, you don’t even spot it. Outside, you tell him there’s not enough space under the canopy. He agrees without a word.

Sleep barely comes to him this night. He already has many troubles on his plate (read: his own teammates significantly younger and brattier than him or you, in need of his guidance), and lately he’s been thinking a lot about you too.

DECEMBER 20ST OF THE CURRENT YEAR. THE ANTICIPATED WINTER HAS COME.

It hurts. It hurts so terribly. You've never felt more alive, embarrassing anything vapid in your vicinity.

The one taking you roughly and wringing your hips is still unaware. He’s assuming the moans mixed into the typical wallowing are of pleasure. Afraid of him stopping, him being disappointed even, you don’t announce any discomfort. Instead, you let the flame burst and crinkle in you and your sting, as it’s pushing away any thoughts and overheating your nerves — your glow of life almost shines above your sweat.

You barely hear the mattress coils ripping each other apart through the sobs and ears’ ringing, not disconcerted in the slightest bit about how hard Enjin is going at your body.

“F-fuck… you keep squeezing and squeezing on me…” he growls through his teeth, blissed out by the tightness that turned shortened like a belt tonight, so suddenly.

Eager, he pushes your legs closer to your chest, needing you deeper and harder, with one skillful hand and the other between your thighs. He hits your insides hard, sending another wave of dizziness the pain brings, swirling down your shaky limbs.

The pleasure turns dimmer, shoved away by the aches demanding their space and your attention, but you welcome them. They’re much more pulsing, bright, vivid on your nerves, tickling you with both scorching sun and gentle kisses, than you have known pleasure to be. You’re begging them to ruin you, invigorated by the notion.

No pain up there if the pain is down there.

As for Enjin flying on the cloud nine, he has to take in the view of what’s almost a torture wrapped around him, watching himself disappear too.

The blood he spots is not the part of his typical fantasies about you, coming out as tiny flares and cigarette burns on him.

You give him a whiner type of cry when his pace turns uneven, startled by your harm. He’s used to be your rough, but so is he used to your body’s durability currently rejecting him. “Enjin…”

He stares at you with disbelief. “You’re bleeding. I think we should…”

“No!” you butt in immediately, clinging to him with your fingers on his shoulder blades, making indents for the sweat to flow here. Instead, you sense he’s so cold today, the sweat condensing into beads of a dew instead. “It’s just a bit of friction. I took worse lacerations,” you assure, giving him your best wanton look.

When you squeeze purposely to stimulate his body again, he’s almost convinced to keep going. The cruelty behind stopping you amid your desperation would be hard to swallow, as if it would consist of denying you something crucial to your poor excuse of haven.

His keen eyes glance all over your body, watching every twitch and rigid form, then your lashes drowning in your tears. Your sight is supposedly no different from the usual “Aren’t you in pain though?” His stomach knots unpleasantly at the thought — it took him a whole year to have to consider the possibility of your limits being violated past what even he could allow. You crying, he let slip you away with; you showing physical manifestations of your torment is what he needed in order to fully hesitate in letting you disintegrate.

“Barely,” your response is met with even more skepticism brewing behind his gaze. “Okay, maybe just a bit, but it’s a background noise, please—” you try to convince him, dragging him closer, the heat in your eyes now becoming deliquescent, a dysphoria’s victim.

Only to expose yourself, wincing as he with the next shallow move, he angles himself into the places already raw and torn.

He stops any movement immediately, taking in you, a grim realization knocking at his face. Enjin gulps, then closes his eyelids for a second, before giving you an anger knitted between his brows — the type of frown you see only if someone in the Akuta did something particularly irresponsible. You can't tell if his revulsion is directed at you enjoying this or himself for aiding you in hurting yourself, and as his mouth opens to scold severely, you brace yourself for the impact of his words.

“Why on earth would you not tell me it’s that bad. I was hurting you and you just took it,” he's fuming, confused and concerned, there above you, raising himself to rest his palms on the sides of your head than still crushing you with his weight.

You’re surely wide-eyed right now, a prey trapped under him and the pressure of his observation coming after your entire existence. Having been caught self-harming yourself, you find yourself feeling the smallest you have been in a while, abject and laid-bare. “Some people are into pain…” your excuse is flimsy and you know it, stuttering on the words as if you’re believing in their liability yourself.

There’s just no way you’d make the admission of your abased state of mind, regardless of the face value speaking for you. Things like that make no logical sense, and Enjin himself struggles with it — showing or implying something is wrong with you or him, only to contradict yourselves by playing oblivious about it, as if saying those things aloud hurt physically.

It does. You wish he would shut up and change the topic already, feeling susceptible to his disappointment.

Enjin’s anger is spun by your indifference again, willing to shake in some sense into you — his hands move to grip your shoulders. “They are. They can get off to whatever, I don't give a shit. But it’s different when they’re punishing themselves with malice!” Each harsh word is being accentuated with a forced wriggle on your bones; althought Enjin still controls his strength, circumspect to not bruise you if he only wants to shake you awake from your conjectured reality.

“I'm not punishing myself! I’m just into this!” you argue back, a bit scared; frozen under him, even if the old you would be kicking him already. The sight of him loosing his cool in a way separate from dramatic is a vagary in his weather, and you are worried about what kind of forecasting this is — the end of this world?

“While you’re crying at the same time and thinking about whatever past memory is fucking up with your mind? I don't buy that.

I won’t help you destroy yourself either.”

Your desperate attempts to keep him inside are futile. He’s pulling out, leaving your needy hands hanging in the air for nothing.

Why does he even care? Why now?

He's far away from you, so suddenly. He is on the bed next to you, but the iceberg between you two is splitting in half. You don’t ask him if he’s mad at you, him at the ceiling like it might crack open if he concentrates his anger at you here telltale enough.

The silence is killing you, each second drawn out with you, your trepidation, and your vein-deep-Weltschmerz anticipating he’s going to kick you out into the cold weather of your own room; you wouldn't blame him for that unkindness.

No languor comes this time after, filling you with lassitude instead. The winter’s here for sure, filled with another angst and disappointment, and you’re unmoving as if frost got to you. Has he also gone cold-hearted?

“I’m sorry,” he eventually blurts out, laconic. No turn of his head is made, Enjin worried about seeing a mirror reflection in your eyes again.

“About what?” your voice is full of surprise. You think it’s you who owes him an apology for alarming him with your weirdness.

“Being aggressive. Must have scared ya.” He did see the eyes you have given him a moment ago.

“… Don’t mention it. I should have told you I’m ruining your sheets,” no melancholy escapes your tone, as you keep on staring ahead, just like he’s been doing.

“It’s not about those damn bedsheets, you stupid woman,” he grumbles. He rubs his forehead, and already is turning to the side for a cigarette box, willing to forget what happened a moment ago.

You finally defrost and wipe your eyes, hoping for the same.

Settling straight on his back against the headboard, arms safely away from yours, he sighs deeply and puts the sparks into his cigarette. “You need something? Ointment of some kind? Maybe Eishia has something—”

“No. I can barely feel any pain. It’ll heal up on its own,” you say dismissively, ignoring how swollen you feel from the inside.

And he knows better than to argue with you, pretending the shake of your legs has never been spotted. Enjin says nothing.

You're willing to gather your clothes and escape another silence weighing heavy on your paranoia, but he stops you last second. You’re freezing, but it’s the dismantled state of no layers to hide you that you brood over. “Hey, can I ask you something?"

You tense up sensitively. Questions that are not simply sex or job-practical are not predictable by you. “What is it?” you ask too calmly, gripping your pants above his floor.

“You’re still taking the pill, yeah?”

You whip up your head to the side and straighten your back, hearing the serious voice your vulnerable ears translate as condemning. “Are you… accusing me of something?” you ask with disbelief. Surely Enjin doesn’t believe you’d force a baby on him; that’s too much to imagine regardless of your latest mood.

“Geez, no. I’m just… capable of understanding it’s easy to forget about consistency when you're… all over the place,” he explains, weighing his words carefully. Turning on his side for you to see his tattooed chest after the sheets slipped down to drape over his hips, he’s placing an ashtray between you two. “Work… and all that jazz.”

Your behavior outside of his bedroom is unsuspecting. Focusing on your cleaning, drinking with the crew, shit-talking him, sometimes outsmarting him and getting him all hot and bothered when the debate inside a mess hall turns heated (and he happens to love a smart woman.) But it’s Enjin who gets the most reliable knowledge about you — from the first-row seat — and is able to gauge how you’d lose the rhythm in some routines.

There really must be something wrong with you, and you almost want to blame him for it — you can't accept the idea of becoming a disarray of a person willingly. Because, your visceral thought isn’t of worry about a pregnancy scare. Imagining delusions about a baby giving you a sense of purpose when you're still exposed and susceptible to impulses is easy.

It’s really his stressed look that allows you to remember the objective.

“Ugh… right… well…” you trail off, watching him almost crush his cigarette in half from the anxiety. Poor man must be thinking he’s going to be a father.

Have you been consistent? You remember taking your pills for many days in the row, but what if you missed a dose and didn’t realize? You don’t want to put Enjin or yourself in this situation because you were too distracted; you’d never forgive yourself.

If there is a baby, you hope they will take after him… or maybe, it should turn out like none of you — grown adults who can’t even communicate without using sex as a leverage.

Forget it. Your period ended three days ago. If you ever have missed a dose, you're not pregnant.

“I’m taking them. My period just ended,” you confirm, strongly enough to sound honest. “I know better than to have a kid here, as a Cleaner. Yours especially,” you stick out your tongue at him, dispersing the fog of apprehension that’s been controlling his body.

You drop onto the pillows for one more moment, something within your instincts urging you to feel his presence properly once more.

Enjin’s shoulders slack, relieved from down here to the Sphere. No daddy Enjin. Still, he has to protect his pride, falling into the trap of your provocation like any other time. “Mine especially?” He gasps with an overdone offense, hitting your shoulder, as if you uttered an insult directed at his entire excellency. “What’s wrong with Enjin Junior?”

You stare him down with the theatrics of disgust, looking as if you just imagined tiny Enjin running around and bothering everyone, playing out a shiver down your spine for a good measure too. “I'd rather die than name the child I birthed myself after you. And answering your question — everything,” you say pettily.

He shakes his head wistfully, taking a dramatic puff of his cigarette as if his life depended on it. “Oh, okay. I get it. I’m that bad. Same old story I’m hearing. I’ve never done a single good thing in my life. I’m lazy.” “I can’t hold you properly and be brave, the man hiding under his childish charisma and false pretense.” “Everyone has been under-appreciating this guy and taking him for granted already anyway,” he throws more dramatics at you. “You can say that for them. Say how bad Enjin is. Come on. Make yourself feel better.” He ruffles his own hair.

You laugh, loud enough to bounce against the walls. It’s an insane idea, to talk about having a child with Enjin carelessly. As if at this point you’re not here mostly because of a relief that’s still ephemeral and shortens itself every time. Soon it would be only a sunk cost bringing you back to him.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I must have forgotten something. Then, do you care to enlighten me about what am I missing?” you tease.

Enjin grins, so happy to oblige it makes him cocky. “I thought you’d never ask. One — I’m an excellent mediator. Our team stays focused because of my advice.”

You pretend to ponder over the validity of his words, pursing your lips and looking to the side with thought. “Hm, okay, let’s say I’ll give you that, but only when you’re not bothering the poor kids,” you agree, just nonchalantly — to keep him humble — despite knowing how he connects those around. You envy him sometimes.

He kicks your calf under the blanket, lightly, yet takes your “praise.” “Great. Glad that’s established. Next thing: I have a pretty badass umbrella,” he says playfully, his face moving closer to yours.

Your heart races on its own, but you don’t yield to his charms just yet. “I mean… I guess it's alright.”

Another scorned puff. “Alright? Not amazing?” he mocks, clicking his tongue at you. His eyes spot the tiny bruise he left on your neck, but they don’t leer, in case his brain turns it into some ownership thing that's as dangerous for you both as anything else already has been. The last time he felt like that was when Tamsy stared at you for too long. “You don’t need to be embarrassed. You can admit that you like it.”

“I'm not doing that,” you deny him on purpose. You’d hand lifts itself to brush his undercut from behind his head and you watch him shiver. “Anyway — is there more to you, or am I supposed to be impressed with double things?”

“So impatient. Of course there’s more to me,” when you smile and condescendingly lift your brow in question, he leans too close to your wellbeing’s safety. “I, for a fact, can make you come reaaaalllyyy hard,” he lowers his tone, speaking just between you two, as his hand crawls up your waist and spreads chills.

You gulp, feeling the heat coming between your legs again; you disregard the pain that flows in the current under. He’s right, and you enjoy the memory of les petites morts as long as your brain instinctively ignores anything else that happens during sex with him. “Unless I’m riding you. Then it’s me making you come,” you still bite back; excluding the part where no matter how you start, you always end up below.

For a second you think he’d pounce on you again, clearly aroused and challenged by your comment — his hand tightens on you, and you know he’s still hard after having to stop halfway through sex. It’s only the remembrance about your physical state that deters him. “Smartass,” he comments lowly and leans away.

Then adds, as if it’s a reminder you might need. “… But yeah. Having a kid here sounds like a craziest kind of idea. No birthing babies in the HQs.” He points his manicured finger at you like a strict father, still playful, making sure you listen. “Don’t need another brat running around anyway.”

And yet, kids is all he’s surrounded himself with outside of you. Stray-collecting.

You both turn silent for once more this eve.

Eventually, seeing you gather your stuff thirty-four seconds of unspoken thoughts later, one more question burns on his mind. He changes his mind about vocalizing it last second as you catch him staring with too much for his agenda worry.

Regardless, as you finally leave wobbling, he makes a note to himself to buy condoms before next time.

DECEMBER 21ST OF THE CURRENT YEAR. THE WINTER, AFTER MIDNIGHT.

Being ripped away from your sleep mid-night has you wanting to murder Enjin.

It’s cold, and any wind howling through the tiny cracks in the window frames sinks down into your bones, trying to whisper to you about something coming. There never will be snow here like the toxic one in the North Ward staying at the higher elevation, the effect of dry air caused by pollution, but you imagine the soft fantasy happening over here too.

You're not necessarily freezing like you imagine a real winter to be, yet the coldness tonight is still a relief from the heat the pollution on the Ground easily produces.

You still wonder: what's the winter up there like?

With the last day of the calendar taking a big step everyday, you feel all the year’s garbage piling up on top of you. Him calling disallows any proper contemplation over your mistakes.

You falsely assume that it’s your sleepiness that has turned his voice distorted through the Choker — it’s more restless than usual. The blood you shared to contact through the device is the closest you have to bonds with Enjin. “What.do.you.want,” you force the words roughly, through your teeth.

“I’d praise you for the ability of making a scary tone sound so hot, but you need to get your ass over to my room, right now.”

Your mind warps things real fast. “Huh? You think you get to demand when we sleep together—”

“It’s not about that.”

Your heart stills, and it’s as if all the sleep is knocked out of you under one, solemn line. It’s always about that, so whatever else he wants from you, you have a bad feeling about it. “Did we lose someone?” Your stomach hurts plenty — from the moment you woke up — as if you were right about prophesying bad things catching up to you.

“No. Just come here already,” he demands tiredly, as if been up for a while.

“Alright, alright…” you curse under your nose, gathering some slippers and a favorite worn out hoodie for a walk to his room. Watching how you step, legs still aching.

Each step through the hall is dusted with a sense of doom growing within you, foreboding, as if you're about to walk into something with a point of no return. You’re not sure if you’re hallucinating, but you suspect the ground started breaking too, in the shapes of your footsteps you took through this corridor many times before.

Your path gets blocked by Semiu on her way back from the reception; you could easily wish owed goodnight and pass her by, but it’s her look that stops you. She needs no words to tell you her order, and her glasses sparkling under the power-emergency lights tell you she’s seeing through you.

“Enjin’s called?”

“Enjin calls me all the time, mostly to annoy me with unsolicited information. What about it?” you shrug, playing with the strings of your hoodie.

“I mean a booty call type of harbinger.”

“How— how did you know?” your throat tightens, and a hot flush of shame spreads itself down your body. Not a sex shame. An Enjin shame.

She gives you an incredulous, knowing look, her smart eyes crinkling under her brows crunching. It’s not a matter of her being smarter than most — your closeness to Enjin would be noticeable to many at this point. Be it seen taking a wrong turn out of your room’s way deliberately timed to be at night, pairs of eyes lingering for too long, the odd stiffness between you two that appeared just a few months ago.

You smelling like bad cigarettes.

You’ve been so involved in your lethal duo of reverie and night terrors, you barely had a chance to stop and think of the outside perspective… or through it. The bubble bursting, its impact bringing you back to reality, you suddenly realize just how much of your life you’ve made to be about him. Truth be told, the last year feels covered behind a hazy curtain when thought about; you wonder if you’re stuck in labyrinth, the next corner about to reveal the same path.

“It’s not even about the fact a pillow placed behind a headboard is still not enough soundproofing,” she says humorously; her tiny smirk dies when you shuffle your body with weariness she’s seen in some women worried about some men.

“Alright… maybe we weren’t sly, but…” you swallow your pride and ask, meekly “Are you disapproving?” You question when did you turn so pathetic, or if you ever were not — asking for approval over staying confident.

Snowballs freeze easily, then explode upon expansion, and you think Enjin shook you too much inside of it already. You can either break free through the cracks and leave injured, or not survive the explosion at all.

“I want to say it’s not none of my business, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t notice you turning hollow-eyed, that craze some women get when they get involved too much. He’s been a freaking weirdo too, snapping at everyone for no reason. Sex with him can’t be that good, he’s got things to worry about too, so make a wise choice yourself,” she gives her two cents with enough equilibrium of reverence and disapproval, then pats your shoulders, before departing for her own rest.

You’re halfway through the way away from your room, halfway through the way to his. You think it’s still too early for plummeting from the high floor, mistakenly assuming it’s best to see Enjin again.

Soon, you’re standing at the doorstep of your jack of all trades again. The handle fights back, and you have to turn it twice to open, given one more chance to retreat.

Inside, Enjin greets you all solemn-faced, his body slouched on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees. For a guy who loves to laze, he does look sleep-deprived. Either forcibly awoken or has stayed up, the truth shown in the wrinkles under his eyes pronounced in the terrible light of TV on, or in his clothes creased from twisting in bed. The honey is now dull like tobacco.

“Sit down next to me,” the invitation is straightforward, for once with him not beating around the bush.

When you remain dormant in the doorway, worried about the scenery of you, he pats the spot next to him. “Come on,” he insists.

Him trying to level with you spikes up your disquiet — serious-talk-Enjin seems like a bad, bad news.

“Do they ban smoking now or something?” you try to eradicate your anxiety with humor. Things just don’t make sense — the meeting from hours ago was ended with a laughter; the sentiment possible only if ignoring the first half of the meeting.

He doesn’t appreciate this. Enjin uses your name bluntly and sharply to summon the same attitude as his.

It sends a jolt into you, but you’re moving forward, legs stiff and made of cotton, accompanied by a pounding of your heart.

The spot you take next to him is still with you maintaining a space between you both, your eyes gluing themselves to the dusty floor.

“Did I… start turning you off or something?” you ask awkwardly. “I know my behavior tonight wasn't the best, but—”

The news presented Mymo’s voice mocks you through the TV’s speakers, yelling “bingo!” at something. “You guessed correctly! It is 'hurricane', the nature's strongest storm. This isn’t my usual expertise scope, but I could have felt something brewing in the air! We don't get too many of these in our polluted climate, but when they come, they always cause destruction and twirl trash particles into motion, so I’m telling you to watch out!”

You expect a disagreement or confirmation, even if given the opening by you taking responsibility for once. Instead, he hits you with the truth, putting a light on everything that’s been on his mind for the last year. “We need to stop this.” Laying it out frankly, before he’d try to lose his conviction he gathered staying up to think about your incident.

Actually, it’s not the first time you hear him say that — the difference is that they're no longer a part of your mind that’s been dreading and imagining he’ll finally say them. Breaking the cycle.

It’s them said for the first time that is too difficult to digest. You stare blankly at the floor for first few seconds, your mind refusing to accept their imposition and realness just yet.

“Who is she?” you finally ask, barely above whisper. Assuming Cupid’s shot Enjin with the arrow is far easier than taking the hindrance of admitting he’s done with you because of you.

“What?” he splutters with disbelief, eyes gulping as he also locks his gaze below him.

“Who is she?” you repeat, now unfairly angrily, pulling at your pajama pants. “Who is she that you can no longer sleep with me? You grew bored and tired of me, like I’m some toy to discard?”

Concentrating your mind on the objective truth is becoming increasingly difficult, but you still try to recall any signs you could have missed about him being enamored with someone. Enjin has never owed you a type of loyalty you’d associate with romantic bonds, but your heart’s perception is so warped at this point, the thought of someone else warming his bed stings and ruins your entire worth — the void within you, always hungry, was still filled by him.

“Listen up closely! A hurricane occurs when high and low pressure masses of air come in contact with one another,” Mymo drags on his show meanwhile.

“There’s no one, you stupid girl,” he doesn’t spare you any abrasive tone, slapping the side of his bed. “I’m denying you because you’re not doing well and I feel like I’m taking advantage of you!”

You have never suspected Enjin to gloat about your dependence on him, yet not have you assumed his reluctance was wrapped into something of compunction. “That didn't stop you before,” you point out weakly, watching his knee flinch in your peripteral vision in response.

Not that you believe he’s been taking advantage of you; you took everything, you begged for everything until now. If anything, it’s you feeling guilty, over this.

“I know,” he mutters, doing the most warmth he could muster — putting his hand on your thigh, right before he’d stab you with more consciousness. The winter is supposed to let you hibernate, but Enjin’s only letting you wake up. “And that was a big mistake. We shouldn't have been doing this in the first place, let simple sex turn into your pouring your heart out and me pretending I’m helping you. I let you dig your own grave for too long.”

The answer should be obvious to you. You cling with all hope instead, placing your hand next to his on your thigh — the closest you ever were to him, only radiating cold. “But… why? I don’t understand. You were bringing me relief. I didn’t get worse or anything,” with your tone breaking, you think this is another woman speaking.

“A significant difference in temperature between the two masses is nothing you should ever ignore!” Mymo exclaims, the colors on the screen turning rapidly and blinking over your hands with their hue.

Enjin sighs, his pinky finger coming across yours. “Take a good look at yourself. You cry harder each time. You get stuck in your head, and every time I’m hanging above you as we fuck, I can tell I’m making you remember something you’re not ready to face. That relief is temporary… and I can’t offer you more, now that I did force you to face your own demons.” He takes his finger away before he could cross his heart.

You want to be a hypocrite. You want to beg. You want to cry. Instead, you throw all the venom at him, refusing to let go of everything you had just hours ago, wounded by the inevitable truth. “And you’re telling me this now? I know you can act dense, but if it bothered you so much, you could have opened your mouth sooner!” you stand up after almost yelling that.

You don’t know why you’re like this, already growing restless for the future without him to sail with you through the night — you managed without any Enjins your entire life.

For your question, he has no defense; nor should you be able to hear him out about his own motives, in case you’ll think of him as caring or mirroring you enough to keep ruining each other. “I should have,” he agrees with you, bumping his leg with nerves. “It’s only after you pushed yourself through pain, that I decided to act.”

He stayed up for hours after you disappeared into your own room, each smoke-inhale with him replaying your noises he then knew were pained. The tiny incoherent look you had after his question about birth control. The awareness another winter might be a beginning of another self-destructing, all-year long cycle if he doesn't sever the loop into a line with both endings.

To ultimately choose to push his selfish need for keeping you close to the side, in name of you learning how to be yourself through yourself again.

“One is warm, the other is cold….” red and blue lights dance across the room and spread over your legs for once not tangled together, as the scornful and knowing laughter of Mymo reminds you of your mistakes.

You stop right in front of him and his regrets. “Enjin. What am I supposed to do now?” you put one more responsibility on his shoulder, asking him that as if your life depends on it, your voice a thinned sizzle. You wonder when did thinking for yourself become difficult as well — with you revolving on your axis around him.

He lets himself respond to your call, lifting his head to offer some strength before his departure. He nearly avoids your eyes again, overwhelmed by their trembling need for a lodestar; he reflects them with a wistful gravity, his smile caught between yearning and restraint.

“You somehow were handling yourself before me, weren't you? You can go back there. I believe in you.”

Barely. The exsanguination of your soul happens with or without him, but at least you are sheltered from it every few nights.

“The warm air rises, and the cool air falls…

“I-I was, but… it’s different now, now I know what it’s like on the other side of things. Having someone there for me for at least a moment, even when he’s just as bad as me in all this… feelings’ carousel…” you admit shamefully. “I can’t go back just like that, snapping my finger and going about my day.”

Your confession is something he seemingly can’t take easily — you’re trying to pull him back into your vortex no one else than him can enter — causing him to further realize just to which deadly point he had dragged you both to, with you as his partner in crime.His brows sink low and lips press into a downturned line in a rueful way.

He’s so beautiful, finally human and open like this for you — why must your dreams come true only at the end?

…the low pressure area slides down the sides of the high pressure area.”

“No. Listen to me, pretty girl. You think I’m helping you,” the words are audibly becoming harder for him to form, but he counts on you to keep looking at him. “And maybe, somewhere this is comforting— but in the longer term, I’ll just make you worse. And I can't keep fucking someone crying and hiding under me, clinging to me like they’ve lost everything, while I’m there trying to not be too unseemly eager, and I can’t do any shit about them being like that!” his raised voice cracks into something rougher, hoping to make the truth stick to your brain. “It’s like I’m using you. Because I shouldn't be enjoying you when you're crying.”

You blink away your tears. “I doubt you’re getting off to me crying. It’s just physical.”

“They swirl in and around one another, creating the beginnings of the storm, speeding from the 64 knots in their lowest, to 137 knots in their highest classification in the scale—”

That annoying “weatherman” won’t stop talking. Enjin slaps him silent, turning off the volume of the CRT screen with a remote.

“And how can you know that? How can I know your pain doesn't excite me somehow, if I’m still getting hard at the same time? Maybe it’s all physical, but maybe, I also should have been deterred by your misery.”

“I-I don’t care which one it is,” you say shakily, hands clinging at your sides to not touch him again. If he were to enjoy your pain, you wouldn't care at this point — if only he could not abandon you.

“You don’t care?” he flickers his head down and pulls on his hair, frustrated by you lacking respect for your own body and mind. “You letting me do this is another issue. You don't know what you want. You think you want to sleep with me, all giggles and shit when coming to me, but you might as well have stayed only out of desperation to be consoled. That’s why I think I’m taking advantage of you.” The splintered wood he’s staring at is starts to drown and swell in your tears, but he keeps his feet steady, unwilling to go with their flow.

“We literally fucked before it all started!” you plead, grabbing his hands and forcing them away from his head, begging that he looks at you again and can understand your rationalizations. They stiffen as he tries to pull away from you. “I’ve been wanting you from the start, before I started breaking down during sex.”

Enjin gulps, unable to take you crumbling into something so small, the product of both of you. Then it’s your hands begun shaking on his, and he’s at once unable to push them away. “Yeah, we did… but…” he tries to say something delicate and groans when words are not adhesive enough. “I think you were doing this to cope from the start, the first night at the bar that I’ve met you. I think I’ve always known that and disregarded it because that's what folks here do. Because that’s what I do. Because it served me well. You’re… desperate.”

Desperate sounds like the most humbling thing you have ever heard from him, coming from the man whose tongue is sharp enough to humiliate in many different ways. Is that all you have been to him the entire time? Desperate-, needy-, fragile-looking; just like the kind of women he hates?

“Then it was me taking advantage of you. Begging you to fuck me so I can be nothing got a second, so I can feel a relief in the tension I never knew I carried for a second, even though you shouldn't have to be burdened like this,” you take the blame easily — you do believe in your words, as you are ready to try any methods. “I’m not your responsibility and I made myself that. I'm not your lover. I'm barely your friend. I'm your teammate supposed to only demand help in her job,” you ramble as quickly as possible, before he could kick you out. You turn his knuckles white, tattoos gray.

Enjin sighs again, worn out by you needing different arguments to end something that needs to be ended. “You didn’t. I could have stopped you the first time you cried and I kept going instead. Then you cried again and I let you in again. I knew I was risking a lot, but I pitied you like an idiot, I put my possible guilt above your well-being,” he pats your palm as a last kiss that has never happened and pulls separates your hands from each other. “If you somehow did take advantage of me, I wasn’t any better, so…

I was opportunistic, thinking this is the only way I can keep you with me. Because when you cry, I don't have to. If I hold you, I can taste the normalcy of holding someone without paying the price for it at least a second.— goes unsaid.

“…We’re even.”

“So this is over?” you ask with bitterness making its raise once more. Then you’re breaking, shattering, collapsing like a ground breaking off when the first sob comes in.

Enjin seems incapable of taking it easily. Biting his lips hard enough to bleed, huffing as if he’s stopping the thought of letting your sadness become his again, as if you're being a bitch that refuses to let him leave in peace and as a full piece. “Yes. I won’t sleep with you again. I can ask Alice if she can figure out some—”

“I don't give a shit about doctors or meds! I’m not crazy,” you hiss out through your sobs. Then you're malleable again. “I need you, Enjin. Even if it’s just you holding me. You don’t have to be mine. You can sleep with whoever you want. Please, don't leave me,” you beg, all pride abandoned, coming closer and closer. Your shadows loom over his form.

He freezes in his spot. Even he's powerless against your desperation; especially he, always have been , but now you're thrusting a knife at his heart. “Don't… seriously,” he says your name with an excuse of seriousness, “you're only making this unnecessarily difficult for us…”

That moment of weakness only encourages you to glue yourself to his body, arms wrapped around him. The repeated mantra of “please don't leave me” corrupt his ear, moving upwards to mess with his mind. So unlike you; yet it’s the real you, pulled out of the deepest corners, the vault to them finally been opened, forcibly.

He tries to push you away. It’s a weak current at first. “Hey, I said something…”When your body shakes with every fear pouring out in black rain, it’s instinctive to put his hand on your back. Almost enough to reconsider some things.

Until he’s reminded of another reason why he can’t be with you:

“Enjin. I love you. Please, stay with me.”

These words, the most you have ever said and meant, the most arduous you have ever spoken, hang like clouds between you. They are the simplest to vocalize this moment, yet the heaviest to bear. In this singular articulation, you proffer your heart, for once in your lifetime, but they reach a receiver who scarcely possesses the fortitude to cradle his own within the first place.

Your words wrap around his neck like a snake, choking him more than tar has been doing for years. He’s pushing you away; not just out of the shock that goes through his body at your claim. You try to touch him again but he raises his hand.

“Don’t,” he orders. You’re saying this because you're attached. You— you haven’t been this close to someone in ages, you’ve got to be confused,” Enjin says that like he’s trying to convince you both and swallows, barely stopping more fractured emotions from melting his “cold” scolding.

Those three most radiating words carry the weight and burden he cannot handle, a trap you made for him. The one he refuses to fall for this lifetime. Not again.

“You should go,” he says, finally quietly and weakly; averting his gaze from you standing stuck in his rejection’s stupor.

You think you’d handle no love yous back. Anything as long as it’s not the hurricane sweeping you away from the one man you care about, deep down under your parasitic need to latch yourself somewhere between his ribcage and the smoke frozen here.

The steps you take back to let the wind carry you, still holding him in your gaze for the last few seconds, are of a drunk person. You want to blame him. You think you can’t.

The force behind you shutting the door is enough to shake off the frozen snowball on his wall shelf, knocked down as the door bounces back in the hinges. “You hate rain, but do you hate snow also?” you were probably asking when silently slipping the item into his pocket, last spring.

Now it’s shattered, and Enjin worries it’s something even Rudo can’t fix.

MARCH 20TH OF THE NEXT YEAR, SPRING.

Moving to new places is never fun. Comfortably used to avoiding arcane things, knowing what to expect, it’s hard to resettle. Home is where… well, somewhere.

Convincing Corvus to let you move over to the Southern Branch was (un)surprisingly easy; you moved out on the New Year's Eve, never seeing Enjin before or after again.

For who you know your boss to be, you suspect he's been acutely-aware of your relationship with Enjin. He bought the explanations you know were loose — overly perfect — officially taking them as valid, as if he’s been awaiting the moment he could be given an excuse to separate you both without being too personal. Perhaps letting you mingle for so long doesn't seem the most professional, but he believes in allowing freedom enough for you to follow him willingly and learn from your own mistakes.

The only curio of your relationship with Enjin is all the white lighters that you stole from him when he particularly annoyed you in the past; holding them is easier when you're pretending he didn't need that many anyway.

You’re playing with one in your hand, the flame dancing lively, making up for the disappointment you went through seconds ago — having to finish on your own, because no men in the nearest town can do it right.

It’s certainly hard to maintain your peace when there’s no outlet in a form of a man pulling at your flesh and hair in the right ways, waiting for you like a respite (or punishment you’re finally remitted from) at the end of the week. You’re not sure if it’s because other men lack deftness, or because they are strangers to you, lacking worrisome endeavors in common with you.

So you take it out on work instead. Trash beasts fall apart beautifully when you’re still angry sometimes, three months later, even if you occasionally see your own reflection in their eyes, brewing with dark anima.

You suppose you manage yourself better now, Enjin or not. It's only the stench of cigarettes that follows you everywhere. You smoke. Someone smokes. Sometimes, in the crowd you smell a distinctive brand of tobacco and you think it might be him, as you're barely stopping yourself from following the trail.

Months of beating yourself over one guy who didn’t even do a good job at comforting you. A guy only ramming you into the mattress until you can’t cry, nor even think — what would your coworkers say about this farce, if you were to tell them the truth?

A funny guy. A mean guy. A silly guy. Maybe even a bit handsome, and definitely good at making you see stars. Also the guy who never owed you any responsibility for your wellbeing but still offered the last traces of his own warmth. Also the guy who turned you addicted to him this way.

The guy who you held hands with only to get the angle right.

The guy who you miss sometimes, even if you dread the day your base collides with his orbit one day. You miss everyone, but Enjin took the only vacant seat in your head for forever.

The guy that has you reflecting what you did, what you didn’t, what you could have done, and what you shouldn’t have done; now that you’re calmer a few months later. How you weighed your own sense of security on him. How you wish friends stayed friends, as he’d be there next to you, laughing, only painfully reticent.

The past is in the past, and you should be moving forward; but the past, cycles, continuum also teach — they make you see what you unknowingly turned a blind eye to, lead by all kinds of desires, some selfish, some innocent.

And Enjin, he misses you too: today, yesterday, and tomorrow.

A week ago, he realized he never got to learn your birthday; he only recognized he missed it some day of the last year. It’s Meriege that helps him in delivering it to you, today.

The knock on your door has you throwing on your clothes back on properly, until you’re facing her.

“Well, look at you, receiving gifts! You’ve got a secret admirer?” she teases with a pleasant smile.

“A secret admirer?” you repeat with confusion, wondering who this could be from.

“Well, I don't know who’s the sender, but it’s got approved, so it’s all yours. Goodnight!”

As you settle on your bed and open the green box, you find the delivered contains funny, something you could imagine from him. A few crooked anemones: medley of purple, red, white, and blue, clearly lacking in their contrivance, but not lacking the thought put behind them.

Access to real and fresh flowers on the ground is very limited, but people do their best to replicate the language of flowers; you see the prism consisting of stained glass and metals. They win over the organic ones by being eternal.

The note confirms it’s from Enjin, and you fight your instinct to push the box under your bed and forget about it. Remission of pining is a huge risk…

… but you need to know if he hates you.

“Happy belated birthday, whenever that was. I’m not good at this, gifts, flowers, anything like that — but I thought you could use a little color to keep things flamboyant. Rudo and Delmon helped me make it, because I clearly can’t do it alone. Don’t drop those ones… or do. There’s always more flowers to make. Don’t hate me for sending this, and… take care, pretty.

Sometimes, it’s only when the countercurrent separates us from facing each other that we can finally see life from other perspectives. I think. The water banks are dirty here anyway.

— that bastard.”

Him letting you go was the act of care in itself, you realize instead.

And from the other side of the world, Enjin paints the imagery of your reaction in his head, standing in front of the window. The surprise he finally and actually reached out. The hesitation to allow the smallest of doubt by accepting the gift. And then, hopefully a smile — sad or happy, amused or exasperated, uncertain or relieved, but definitely honest and gorgeous.

He hopes you’re doing well over there. Blooming anew. Wishing he told you he cared back then. Wishing he held you properly; buried against his chest until you can’t breathe, told and asked real things, appreciated and kissed breathless.

Wishing he could have told you he loved you too, if only there had been a right moment, a right way, a right cause to do so.

He’s never been the first to fall asleep beside you, pretending, hoping you’d leave early so he wouldn’t have to watch you fall — and now he sleeps alone.

JUNE 21ST OF THE NEXT YEAR, SUMMER.

A worn little bar with restless crowd, with green neons toxic against the dark walls you’re in, stenches of vomit and cigarettes less heavily than usual. The half-dim underworld of this settlement’s bar is a short pit stop before hitting the road again with the crew,

The same bar where you first met your first love. It’s ironic. It’s poetic. It’s still a salt to a wound.

The place is unchanged, suspended in the same dim glow and hum of drunk-excited voices. A few regulars still recognized you from your days of rage and abandon, offering short greeting…

But what they don't recognize is you reformed, has shed old skin — the woman they once knew well was haunting the bar’s velvet stools and men, for many months before a mysterious man took her with him. Now that she’s back, there’s no specters clinging to her shoulders; she’s wearing a sundress.

Moving through the fog-shrouded counters and sticky floors, in search of somewhere where you could breathe, a familiar scent of cheap cologne stops you in track. You’d mortify half of the men here for drowning themselves in too much alcohol, but you find this particular pepper to be too distinctive to be ignored.

The same brand he always wore; usually, you couldn’t catch it, buried beneath the cigarette smoke clinging to his clothes and skin. But one summer day, when he didn’t smoke immediately after sex, it rose freely and you smelled it fully for the first time.

You doubt it’s Enjin, the avid smoker. Besides, there still could be many other people using it.

You take the opposite current behind the second part of the counter anyway; not in hopes of seeing him, if only to burn the cologne into your brain’s drive.

For a heartbeat, you think you’re stuck in a bar-heat mirage. Your pulse stops, then sprints, a tumult of endorphins surging through you.

He is here — tangible, corporeal — even with his back turned against you. Unchanged, yet different; from the angle of his head, his eyes are searching for something or someone specific. White t-shirt, eye and hair still suffused with sun. He takes the space as if he belongs here, a revenant made flesh, yet somehow renewed. You know he has been here before, doubting the fate is in mood for making such coincidence. More than once.

You should flee, vanish into the crowd, yet he has long sneaked himself into your marrow. Fear expands in your chest; this may be your sole chance to see him again.

Moving behind his stool, the cologne thickens in your nose. You wonder if there is attenuated difference in the smoke that always lingers on him — as if he has switched his tobacco, to something of its acridity softened.

It's now or never; six months not before the winter, but after the winter, you hope you both reached your own summers.

You realize you can’t greet him with the same old woes, if you want him safely. Summers as something to come back to, not a cycle.

Tapping his shoulder, you almost laugh at the grimace that spreads over his face, surely anticipating some stranger obstructing his hunt for a lighter. “Yeah?” he murmurs all annoyed, turning toward the touch. His frown turns into abundant shock, a cigarette dropping from his wide mouth.

“Hey there, stranger. Looking for this?” You offer one of the lighters you pilfered in the past, placing it before him. Then you slide onto the seat beside him. “I saw you from across my table and thought — I could get to know someone like you.”

Not his mask. Not his humor. He.

Not your body. Not your tears. You.

Being called a stranger by someone who once vividly existed in his memory, in an enigmatic definition, confuses him terribly; yet when she smiles in ways he has never seen, the possibility of a brand-new beginning clicks into place. You don’t want your pasts to define the bonds between you anymore, now that this is your homecoming.

He clicks his tongue, shaking his head too — he shall play your game called the endings but beginnings, or simply, convergence. He hides the cigarette back into his pocket. “If you’re ready to take some risks, then I won’t stop you. Name’s Enjin,” he grins.

Telling him your name, you shake the hand extended for you. This Enjin is familiar, as he is a stranger. It's a clean slate you need him to be first, it’s a clean slate you will be for him, before you two could learn how to flow down the same, gentle and steady stream together.

And maybe one day, he’ll tell you his real name, and you will tell him yours — not the ones borrowed, not the ones stolen.

:'))))))

AFTERNOTE: If you’re still there, know that you’re awesome, and thank you for reading <3 Should any things remain unclear: additional notes. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the story! I’ve been having a very stressful period in my life lately and finally finishing writing this story and adding a few scenes was cathartic. I hope my anxiety levels still allowed me to not make too many mistakes, and I’m sorry if there’s any.

[jiunxo]

Absolutely beautiful

[enjinsdoll]

꒰ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ rudo discovers that the memory of you is still hidden beneath enjins tattoos. — cw: reader is dead.

the mission had thinned enjin’s temper and tore the fabric of his shirt. at least no one had been seriously injured, and for now that was all that mattered.

rudo however had never seen enjin look so careless, so much on the edge. he didn’t think twice as he stepped closer to look if he was alright, and that none of the flying debris had hit him.

“wait,” rudo called out, reaching to inspect the damage.

enjin swatted his hand away. “it’s nothing.”

it was not nothing.

the tear had revealed skin beneath the familiar black and red ink that covered enjin’s arms and chest like armor. beneath that ink there was something faint, almost ghostlike. something different. letters from what rudo could see. a name?

rudo frowned. “that’s not part of the design.”

enjin went still. for a moment the room felt like it had emptied of air. even gris and riyo, who had overheard the conversation, stopped dead in the tracks. panic and dread filled their expressions as they looked from enjin to rudo and back. riyo even tried to signal for rudo to not speak anymore.

“drop it,” enjin said quietly.

rudo didn’t as he stepped closer instead, eyes tracing the faded lines hidden under the darker tattoo that had been layered over it. “you covered it up.”

heavy silence stretched. riyo stepped forward to pull rudo away, but enjin shook the head. he exhaled quietly before pulling the torn fabric aside himself.

the name was there. soft curves of lettering, delicate compared to the sharp edges of the ink that surrounded it. it didn’t match the rage etched across his skin now.

“she hated how reckless i was,” enjin said at last.

rudo blinked. “so it’s hers.”

enjin leaned back against the wall, eyes half-lidded but not unfocused. he was seeing something else entirely. somewhere else. someone else.

“she said if i was going to throw myself into every fight, i should at least carry something worth protecting.”

his fingers brushed the old name unconsciously as he remembered her. like he could ever forget her.

“she wasn’t a fighter,” he continued. “she had no business being near the cleaners.”

rudo stayed quiet. even the others listened, despite being there when it happened.

“she liked stupid things. sweet things. she’d scold me for skipping meals. would patch me up even when i told her i didn’t need it.” a faint breath escaped him. “she carved her name into my skin herself. said if i died, at least i would be hers in some way.”

rudo swallowed. “what happened?”

enjin’s jaw tightened. his golden eyes dimming like he had never seen before.

“i miscalculated.” he replied flatly. “there was a job. i told her to stay back. she never listened when it came to me.” his eyes darkened, with anger at himself. “i thought i could end it fast. i thought i was strong enough.”

the cleaner world was unforgiving - something enjin learned the hard way.

“when the trash beasts turned, she was closer than i realized.”

rudo felt the weight of what wasn’t being said. in the corner of his eyes he sees the grief in the others eyes.

“i got to her,” enjin continued, steady in a way that hurt more than if it had cracked. “but not fast enough.”

the room felt smaller.

“i covered her name because i couldn’t stand looking at it without seeing that moment. i thought if i buried it under something uglier, it’d stop meaning anything.”

his fingers pressed into the ink now. over both layers.

“it fuckin’ did not.”

rudo hesitated. “why not remove it completely?”

he flinched when enjin’s sharp gaze hits him.

“because she existed.” a fact - the saddest and most beautiful one. “she loved me when i had nothing to offer but blood and broken bones. i don’t get to erase her because i failed.”

rudo looked at the faded letters again. they were fragile beneath the heavier design, but they endured. “you still love her,” he said quietly.

“rudo,” riyo chastised, but enjin’s expression didn’t change as he answered.

“yes.”

after a moment he pulled his torn shirt back into place.

“don’t romanticize it,” he added. “loving someone doesn’t make you strong. it makes you careless.”

“enjin—“ gris stepped forward.

everyone - even rudo who wasn’t there when she was alive - wanted to argue. but enjin already turned away and walked down the corridor. the shadows swallowed him, leaving the others behind. so many unspoken words, rudo who had questions. who would’ve liked to meet the woman that enjin loved. he wondered if enjin was different back then, but he didn’t dare asking.

she left a wound on enjin’s soul that never would fully heal.

still rudo understood then that the darker ink wasn’t decoration. it was a reminder of the only softness enjin had ever allowed himself to carry.

[enjinsdoll]

enjin’s sprawled across the couch. one arm thrown over the backrest, half paying attention to whatever’s on screen. but then his attention is on you when you step inside the room.

“what’re you—”

you’re stepping right in front of him and drop to your knees. right between his legs. his brain’s saying good-fucking-bye.

“oh?”

his posture changes instantly as he straightens up. he spreads his legs wider and reaches for the button of his pants. a small grin creeps over his features and his eyes darken with hunger.

“damn,” he whistles, “didn’t know you were feelin’ generous toda—”

you grab his knee firmly and start patting around like you’ve lost something.

“what are you doing?”

“hold on,” you mumble, fingers brushing over his thighs. “i think my hair tie snapped and flew over here—”

huh?! takes him a moment until his brain catches up and his entire face falls.

“you’re joking.”

you lean closer, peering around his leg, still searching. “no? i literally just had it—”

he grabs your wrist, absolutely offended and feeling horny and being made fun of. “you get on your knees in front of me and it’s for a fuckin’ hair tie?”

“yes?”

his eye twitches dangerously. groaning then he drags a hand down his face like the world, and you had personally betrayed him.

“unbelievable,” he huffs. “actually evil.”

you snort, finally spotting the hair tie by the couch leg and grabbing it. “found it.”

“yeah? congrats.”

you stand up, looping it back into your hair, completely unfazed. he watches you, sulking and pouting.

“y’know,” he adds after a second, “you could’ve at least pretended for a few more seconds.”

“you were already halfway undressing.”

“because you set me up.”

“skill issue.”

he stares at you. then scoffs, grabbing a pillow and tossing it at you.

“get outta my face.”

but he’s smirking again and he definitely doesn’t forget that moment anytime soon.

[umbrellaslut]

Zanka with a big breasted reader that almost always wears cleavage showing stuff pls💔 nsfw and fluff if you could

You’re ruining him . ʚ♡⃛ɞ

His surprisingly tidy room was quiet except for the low hum of the old fan spinning overhead. Zanka stepped inside after another long shift, setting lovely assistaff near the door, shoulders tense, and immediately stopped when he saw you.

You were reclining on the battered couch, tank top pulled low and loose, your heavy breasts barely contained —and on full display like always. The deep cleavage drew his eyes before he could stop himself.

He clicked his tongue, looking away sharply. “…Tch. ya really gotta wear shit like that..?”

His voice carried that lazy Southern lilt, but it was rougher than usual, trying to sound unbothered. You noticed the faint pinkish flush creeping up his neck anyway.

You stretched lazily, only exposing yourself more to his dark gaze. Zanka exhaled through his nose, jaw tight. He crossed the room in a few strides but stopped a couple feet away, arms crossed over his chest like a shield. His gaze kept flicking back down despite himself.

“Comfortable?” he spat out flatly, though his ears were turning red. “Yer showin’ half yer damn chest . Ain’t exactly subtle.” He tried to look anywhere else—at the wall, the floor, the fan—but his eyes betrayed him, lingering on the soft swell of your breasts and the way they rose and fell with your breathing.

You sat up a little, leaning forward so your cleavage became even more pronounced. “You don’t like it?”

Zanka’s jaw clenched. He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly fighting the heat rising in his face. “Didn’t say that,” he muttered. His accent thickened just a bit when he was rattled. “..it’s distractin’. Makes it hard t’ think straight when ya got them out like ya own the place.”

The blunt words slipped out before he could filter them. He looked almost annoyed at himself for saying it aloud.

You beckoned him closer with a finger. He hesitated, then stepped in anyway, dropping down onto the couch beside you with a heavy sigh. The moment he was seated, you shifted so one heavy breast pressed warmly against his arm.

He stiffened immediately. his face turning impossibly pink

His hand twitched like he wanted to push you away, but instead it slowly rose, hovering uncertainly before settling on the side of your breast. His palm was rough and warm, fingers spreading instinctively to feel the weight and softness.

“..heavier than they look,” he said under his breath, voice low and rough. The flush on his cheeks darkened as he gave a tentative squeeze, thumb brushing over the exposed skin. “…Always pushin’ ‘em up like this. Yer doin’ it on purpose.”

You could feel how fast his heart was beating. Zanka tried to keep his expression neutral, but the way his breath hitched when you moved against his hand gave him away.

He leaned in despite himself, forehead nearly resting against your cleavage as he muttered, “…Tch. Look at ya. Gettin’ me all worked up over some damn cleavage.”

His mouth hovered close, hot breath fanning across your skin. Then he gave in—just a little—pressing a firm, almost reluctant kiss to the top swell of your breast, followed by another, slower one. His tongue flicked out briefly, tasting you, before he pulled back with a quiet curse.

“…Yer trouble,” he grumbled, but he didn’t move away. Instead, he pushed the thin fabric of your tank top further aside, exposing more of your chest so he could bury his face between your breasts with a low, frustrated sound.

He nuzzled there, rough and needy, the cool mask cracking as he inhaled your scent. One hand kneaded your left breast while his mouth worked the other—kissing, licking, and occasionally sucking a faint mark into the soft flesh, all while trying and failing to hide how affected he was by your body.

When he finally tugged his pants open after fumbling with the button for 30 seconds and pulled you onto his lap, he was hard and throbbing. He guided himself inside you with a sharp inhale, grip tight on your hips.

“…Fuck,” he breathed, accent thick and strained. “So fucken’ soft… squeezin’ me like that.”

He kept his face turned into your chest as he thrust up into you—deep, controlled strokes that made your breasts bounce heavily against his cheeks. Every time they smacked lightly against his face he’d let out a quiet, embarrassed grunt, cheeks burning.

“…Quit movin’ ‘em so much,” he muttered, even as his hips snapped harder. He was clearly flustered, trying to stay composed but losing the battle with every roll of your body.

You rode him steadily, holding his head against your cleavage. Zanka’s hands roamed your back and sides, occasionally coming back up to squeeze and support your breasts as he chased his release.

He came with a low, muffled groan buried between your tits, body tensing beneath you. Afterward, he stayed right there, face nestled in your cleavage, breathing hard and trying to regain his cool.

“…Yer gonna be the death of me one day,” he said quietly, voice rough and a little hoarse. The Southern drawl lingered as he added, “But I ain’t complainin’.”

[lanternoid]

⚠︎ CHAPTER ONE

⅖ ☆ 𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐁𝐨𝐱𝐞𝐫𝐬

summary: NSFW! cringe start bc i was kinda drunk whoopsies. gooner enjin. he's doing it, are you? enjin just wants to get laid ngl. stress gooning and edging (clickbait). bratty y/n is his new roomie hell yeah. (wc: 4368) view all chapters & important info here.

note: banananas taste horrible. first time writing something naughty and i don't like it. "you're not obligated to though" who said that i write for my own comfort?

FROM THE DAY ADAM AND EVE HAD SUNK THEIR TEETH into the ripe fruits of temptations, humans had always lived to be free. They've existed for so long only because of the sheer power of how they use their self-autonomy amidst the chaos of the worldly jungle; in which survival truly is the fittest. Humans label themselves as superior, yet it is untrue for all creatures of the Ground as they are all unique in varying ways. We’re only so superior because we hold the power to become both the key saviour and saboteurs of our own destruction. It is our selfish reasoning that we call ourselves “superior”  because of free will and our ability to persecute such whims. 

To fall into sin or to follow into traditions of guidance. Only humans have the liberty to conform to high mental capacities in which animals lack. Thievery, reproduction, murder—we’re free to do as much as we please so long as our hearts desire it. However, even true freedom has a predetermined limitation to what extent humans can possibly achieve. If not for laws built on morals and logic, humans could do anything  they’d like so long as they put their mind to it. We're first-rate thieves who steal from the land of its origins; self-indulgent creatures that continue to take, take, take until there's nothing left for the future. Perhaps that is why the phrase “Monkey see, monkey do” continues to exist to this day. You learn to mimic how to exist through observation before you can learn why you exist.

Except, living was never meant to be easy in the first place. It is for that reason especially that humans are the incarnate of both angels and devils; there is no such thing as pure evil or pure good. We contradict our own actions with our own emotions, and that is why the heavenly virtues are covalent to the deadly sins. Otherwise, the world would go bankrupt with perfection or flaws without either. It is important to have balance. There is too much goodness in the world to be bad, but there is too much badness in the world to be good. Hence, why humans can never fully grasp what freedom could possibly ever mean. 

But what is freedom to you? And what is freedom to me?

To Enjin, freedom was just a fleeting emotion he feels whenever he indulges in his toxic smoking habits or chases after hot women with nice ass or tits to put it bluntly. They were necessary vices to him to make up for all the stress he gained from his job, which wasn’t exactly difficult at all but somewhat challenging regardless. The only problem he had was dealing with people as a major consequence from cleaning trash beasts; some humans think that just because he’s working, they’re entitled to disrespect him and treat him horribly despite the charity he has done for them. It was a huge pain in his ass. But then again, with the large paychecks that turn his golden eyes into dollar symbols, perhaps the stress made the job entirely more worth it.

Outside of his occupation, Enjin was a simple man who had it all (apart from lacking any bitches, that is). With a charming smile that made people fawn over him and a bank account that had more zeroes than his body count, Enjin believed that he was pretty satisfied with where he is right now. That was a lie—he wished he could ignorantly think like that but his mind says contrariwise. But no matter how many times his heart feels empty and all he can do to occupy that uncomfortable void, Enjin believed that if something exciting wasn't going to happen today, it would happen tomorrow. And if not tomorrow, then the day after would be fine as well. While his heart was still beating, that was a sign plenty enough for him to know that there was plenty of life left inside of him regardless of how he felt.

Ever since Rudo, the newest addition to his team, had fled the nest and learnt how to tackle missions on his own, Enjin felt the excitement leave his chest. He’s returned to his monotonous lifestyle of work, drinks, smokes, and repeat. Heck, even jerking off has gotten boring! He sure as hell knew that finding time to have a frivolous night with a pretty thing would be a struggle with his schedule and occupation. As heroic as his job may be, women weren’t that really into men who had a huge parasocial relationship towards an object that couldn’t speak or think nevertheless. It was creepy to have such sentimental value for a thing rather than a person—an excuse he'd hear all the time. Telling anyone that he was a Cleaner had always been the ultimate turn-off for them even if they'd come running to him first.

But what’s so attractive about a man such as him? Ignore the golden waves of hair and dimpled cheeks, and ignore how he smiles as if there was more to life than just the notions of breathing and existing itself. Or how his body is inked up with obsidian and crimson, only complimenting his toned muscles even further and denoting him into nothing more than a “hear-me-out” candidate for a special cake. At this point, Enjin was no longer Enjin. His body was merely but a shell that has evolved into the perception of how everyone sees him at present. 

Deep down, no one really understood him for his own past was shrouded in a mystery that he kept hidden away from others. Even to himself. There's too much pain that comes with being trapped in the past and he didn't have the time nor mental capacity for that. Perhaps for the safety of their innocence, or perhaps the safety of his own incapability to fully allow himself to be truly vulnerable. Enjin didn’t like to dwell on the past even if it made his current self dissatisfied with the way he lives today.

Maybe it’s high-time that he gets laid again.

All that thinking was making his head throb. That was the cost of coming home alone after a mission without any teammates. He didn’t have to perform as the “Enjin” that everyone remembers him for so he had no one besides his own self to keep him company amidst the journey of his return. Another successful mission meant that he deserves another smoke! He's been a good boy today!

The cigarette was brought between his lips as he pressed down on the lighter, sheltering the flickering flame as its embers lit up the paper tip. The scent of smoke filled his nose as he indulged in the burnt cinnamon taste of its tobacco, welcoming the slight buzz in his head which slowly relaxed his mind. A wisp of grey clouds melted into the air as he made his way back inside the HQ, greeting the glasses-wearing secretary with a wave.

“I’m back. Got rid of all the beasts like you’ve asked.” His smooth voice came out as a nonchalant rasp as he stopped in front of the desk piled with mountains of paperwork and erotic magazines, “Oh, sweet. The latest issue’s out already?”

Semiu closed her magazine quickly and adjusted the frames on her face, “Yep. You made sure to get rid of all of the beasts, right?”

“You should’ve specified that from the beginning. One guy can only do so much by himself.”

Being one of the strongest Cleaners in the entire Ground, Semiu was confident that the man could power through the mission and come back victorious. Perhaps he was victorious, but not in a way that would truly complete an assignment. The secretary let out a sigh of exasperation as she pinched the bridge of her nose. Enjin never failed to make her job hard, but she also never failed to make his job a hassle in return. The two were close in a way to rival each other's limitations and that’s probably why Enjin would previously crush over her if it weren’t for the fact that he had learnt that Semiu swung mostly the other way. 

“I’ll take note of that for next time—it won't be long until more come to life and you'll be sent back. Welcome back, though. I’ve got good news for you.” Semiu spoke coolly. 

Coincidentally, Enjin’s stomach grumbled and he looked down at his cigarette that had mysteriously been put out. His thick eyebrow twitched as he scrutinised the secretary pinching her forefinger and thumb together indifferently, slight ashes falling as she rubbed them together. Did she seriously use her power to put out his cigarette?! That was so not fair—he literally just lighted it before he walked inside. What a waste of a cigarette! There was no surprise to that, however. The small embers could spark up a large flame on her desk with all the hazards that could catch onto fire immediately and get rid of her hard work and effort he couldn’t help but admire.

“Like I said, no smoking! And what I was gonna say is—”

“I got it, I got it! Jeez, can the news wait though? I’m pretty hungry right now.” He grumbled, already turning his back to make his leave.

“You overgrown brat. At least listen to what I have to say! There’ll be a new member joining the Cleaners and we’re putting you in charge of her because you’ve been specifically requested.”

Same old news. He’s dealt with plenty of brats, all easy enough to tame which was no surprise. His boots thudded against the wooden floor as he walked off with his beloved Umbreaker in one hand while the other in the pocket. Team Akuta was a team full of misfits since the captain himself was one in the past. He’s had plenty of experience with teaching newbies so he didn’t think too much about the news. Enjin didn’t need to stay to listen to the details because he could fill in the blanks himself: new member, find a mentor to train them—easy peasy, lemon squeezy!

Except it was pretty difficult for new members to one hundred percent fully stay. Cleaning was a difficult job because the trash beasts out there were merciless. Ruthless and cruel, they’re programmed to do one thing and that is to ruin the livelihoods of people who live on the Ground. No matter how familiar he was with spending time with a Spherite, Enjin still had his personal vendettas against the majority of people who ignorantly live on that Sphere while discarding their shit on his home. All that garbage could only do so much as to birthing bottomless monsters that feel no satisfaction no matter how much they destroy their surroundings. 

That is why so many people live their days in fear, especially during the trash rains that occur every six years—a perfect holiday for the trash beasts to wreak even more havoc on the Ground. It was pretty often that people would quit fighting trash beasts out of their irreversible fear of those behemoths; only the strongest would stay. It was survival of the fittest after all. Otherwise, there were other options such as working in the civilian side and doing office jobs such as Semiu or death. Cleaners put their lives on the line every single day so it wasn’t rare to hear about the loss of a Cleaner because of the many factors that could steal a soul before they can reach full satisfaction. 

Not to mention, it wasn't everyday that you'd find a Giver with the whole culture of discarding items once they're no longer of use for you.

Take Gob for example. All that polluted waste in his lungs had made him leave the world too soon. Enjin still thinks about that care-free smile when he’s alone at night smoking in the mess hall. Not that he’s too upset anymore—what happens will only continue to happen. Freedom is limited to health as well, but at least that man could pass peacefully while his spirit continued to live on through the numerous murals he’s produced while living freely on the Ground. Enjin would always feel a rush of adrenaline whenever he'd watch Gob bring life to the HQ since his idea of a canvas was never limited to just a white blank slate.

It’s just that it wouldn’t be long until the excitement goes away. Enjin had his doubts that whatever happens now won’t be as exciting as his time with the Spherite kid he took under his wing.

But enough about his miseries and everlasting boredom! Enjin focused on taking a quick shower to scrub off the remaining dirt off his skin. The foul smell of rotting garbage was faint yet still lingered near as he entered his room that had the familiar scent of smoke and cologne. It was mostly dark despite the afternoon sun blazing out the window he kept closed all the time. Enjin kicked off his boots by the door and walked over the mess in his room that was composed of magazines, clothes, miscellaneous items he found that would be useful for a certain Spherite. For a Cleaner, it was ironic that he didn’t clean his room that often. But the meaning of being a cleaner had changed so what he’s thinking of right now is a janitor and not a trash beast exterminating Cleaner. 

After shrugging off his coat, his stomach rumbled once again and all he could think about was eating lots of junk food. His occupation made him burn through lots of calories so he had a pretty lax relationship between whatever sorts of meals he'd eat. Inked fingers now bare of jewellery moved to his hips to remove the bag that held his full-mask, shortly unbuckling his belt after. Once his red tank top fell to the floor, Enjin rubbed his sore shoulders then slid his boxers down to his ankles, stepping out of them and kicking them aside.

He then walked into the bathroom and turned the shower tap on, setting it to a hot temperature but not so much that it would burn him alive. Despite not many, all of his exes had one thing in common: they all practiced for hell. But also that they were all batshit insane to the point he wonders if it’s just him or his luck with scoring hot babes with issues. That was also another reason why he hasn’t been able to jump back in the ocean of dating in all honesty. It was embarrassing for him to admit that he had an underlying fear of accidentally falling for the wrong girl and going through another messy breakup that would make him the villain of all womanhood.

The steam filled up the room and fogged up the mirror where only a glimpse of his contemplative expression appeared. After stepping into the shower, a long heavy sigh left his lips. Enjin never turned the shower any more clockwise than what he was accustomed to, but today he wanted to feel something. Anything. The small creak of the tap was faint compared to the pattering water, a small hiss joining after.

“Fuck, that’s hot…” He groaned quietly, golden irises eclipsed by his closed eyelids.

As he lathered himself up, he felt a slight twitch between his legs yet chose to ignore it. It was always a struggle to reach for his back whenever he showered, he tried to focus on instead. He had more strength than flexibility so he couldn't wash his back properly. Down, down, down, the soap foamed around his torso then slid down his thighs which made him feel another twitch again. 

Enjin couldn't resist it.

His eyes averted down where inked and calloused fingers wrapped around his thick and hardening member without it processing in his head. Veins twitching beneath his touch as the hot spray of the water cascaded down his groin, giving him the warmth that he yearned for from another person. 

Sinking his teeth into his bottom lip till he could taste copper, Enjin pumped his cock slowly with a firm grip. His eyes closed as he tried to imagine something to get himself to climax to yet his mind remained empty. His hand tightened around himself as he sped up, struggling to think of a pretty face to get his dick off to. With every second passing by, his hand would tighten just enough to replicate his poor memory of someone's wet haven but not too much that it would be borderline torture. His hand moved faster and faster with every breathless groan he made, the familiar coil building up below his stomach. Pearls of his pre-cum down his shaft and into the drain. But to his misfortune, Enjin couldn't get himself to finish at all. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't think of a single pretty face to help him cum to. At this point, he wasn't even jerking off to anyone but to get rid of the built up stress and indifference he's been feeling as of late. That realisation made his grip loosens and released himself, an irritated and disappointed grumble coming from the back of his throat as he watched his leaking cock struggle to soften. For that, he changed the temperature of the water till it was icy cold and enough to distract himself from edging himself unwillingly.

“Fuuuuuck… What the hell am I even doing?”

It’s been like this for ages now—him struggling to get that huge wave of pleasure to crash down on himself. It wasn’t that he was incompetent or that there was something wrong with his cock—his cock was plenty fine by the way! But it was just that nothing turned him on anymore! Well, not enough for him to get himself off anyway. Enjin was getting fucking blue balls for no apparent reason at all and he was at a point where he was willing to quit his job for a few days just to satiate himself. Like having a one week break where he'd lock himself up in a brothel and go absolutely fucking insane until his dick couldn't stand up anymore. He was that desperate.

What was worse was that he was absolutely humiliated that he couldn’t even imagine anything. Not the erotic magazines or the hot women who dressed themselves in little clothing that left plenty for his creative mind to imagine. That familiar tingle down his spine was a goal he’ll never be able to reach at this stage that his cigarettes have been running out concerningly quickly. The most he can achieve an endorphin rush was from his tobacco addiction, but even then he didn’t have any plans to get lung cancer too quickly. Enjin was indulgent, but not to the point of immediate destruction. He didn't want to go see the nurse and be banned from his beloved cigarettes. She wasn't strict but he would hate to disappoint her since that would make her older brother heavily irritated.

The guilt reluctantly left his mind just like the steam escaping the shower as he finished showering. Rivulets of water dropped down his pectorals and further down his body, standing in front of the mirror above the sink while focusing on the outlines of the hard work and effort into shaping himself. It was a daily practice to always pose in the mirror while flexing his biceps and abs, only wrapping himself in a towel after he had finished winking at himself with finger guns. Cliche; but a man’s gotta love himself one way or another. 

A wet path created by the droplets of water followed him as he threw his dampened towel onto his bed without a second glance. While searching for a clean change of clothes in nothing but his birthday suit, Enjin made a mental reminder to do his laundry some time very soon. 

It was only late in the afternoon before the other members would come back from their missions, but Enjin had already clocked out. With the responsibilities that he had to look after, there were plenty of perks that came with being the strongest captain in the entirety of the Ground. Although it wasn’t an official rule, Enjin carved many new ways for himself as he was a man whose hobbies included venturing out on a whim. Free will was a man's best power after all!

Golden eyes scanning the messy room as he searched for a clean pair of boxers, then lighting up as he picked up a novelty pair of ripe bananas above a cerulean backdrop. He brought the undergarment to his nose and sniffed.

“Yep, still good.” He murmured to himself with an approving nod, standing up straight to put the boxers on.

As Enjin walked over to his closet, he was about to slip on a simple black tee until he heard a creak coming from behind—his bed.

“Ugh, bananas? You’ve gotta be kidding me. I’d rate that a two out of five stars.” A woman commented; her voice a disappointed and ignorant alto.

Immediately, Enjin snapped his head back, eyes widening in shock as he jumped in surprise and dropped his shirt to the floor. 

“What the hell?! Were you here the entire time?! That’s freakin’ creepy, y’know?!” He yelled in surged panic, quickly picking up his shirt to cover his boxers.

While he was absolutely confused and mad that someone had snuck into his room, his body was giving him mixed signals that contradicted his negative reaction. Goosebumps rising all over his body and a shiver running down his spine. It didn't help that his cock was still somewhat awake despite him trying so hard to distract himself. This shitty timing was making Enjin unfortunately thrilled. 

Especially from the way he watched the pretty thing stretch her arms out as she yawned, sleeveless mock neck-top rising to reveal an inch of her s/c skin and the low rise of her f/c cargo pants. The girl rolled onto her side, h/c waves framing the curves of her soft cheeks. Eyes scrunched as she continued to stretch, then opening to meet his gold eyes with her own wide e/c eyes. From the small glimpse of light coming from the blinds, it made her innocent face glow as if she was an angel of temptation and sin itself.

But that moment of pure wonder didn’t last for long the moment she opened her mouth, sitting up with her leg crossed over the other with entitlement as she fixed up her bangs.

“Don’t speak to me in that tone, peasant. I’m not creepy—you’re just hella slow! How dare you keep a lady of my status waiting?!” She glared daggers at him, the sweet pitch of her voice juxtaposing her bitter tone and choice of words.

“Hahh? That’s a bit harsh. What’s a pretty thing like you doing here though? You got a name, cutie?” Enjin’s brow twitched as he attempted to sweet talk to her.

“Me? I’m your new owner. Didn’t your boss tell you already? I’m taking this land!”

The fake smile on Enjin’s face immediately wiped off as he took a closer look at the accessory resting on her chest. A silver glint flashing in his eyes as he stepped towards her, scrutinizing the dog tag with an engraved flower and “L/n” written beneath it. Immediately, he stood back up with a reluctant familiarity of deja vu, eyebrows creasing together as he crossed his arms.

“An iris…?”

“Are you deaf or what?! I said I’m taking over this place!” The woman stood up, jabbing a finger at his bare chest. “Put on some clothes, pervert! Or else I’ll report you to the authorities for sexual harassment.”

“Sexual harassment?! I didn’t even do anything! You’re the one who should be reported for sneaking into my room when no one else is allowed to do it!”

“Well that’s not gonna happen ‘coz I’m here now. You have to obey me now! That’s a direct order!”

Enjin swatted her hand away with a scoff of disbelief, retracting in his steps to quickly put his shirt on anyway. There was no way he would listen to a rude snob like her so easily. Her disrespect was a major turn-off for him even if she had a cute face! He was so confused but there was one thing for certain; he did not like this girl at all. Not even a single bit! From the tilt of her chin to the way she weaponised her status like it was enough to make someone as powerful as him cower in fear when he literally fights trash beasts day and night. 

“Like hell I’m gonna listen to an entitled snobby brat.” He scoffs bitterly, sneering at her. 

The look of disbelief and offense on her face was almost comical if it weren’t for the surge of frustration piling up in his chest. This woman was far from normal! But who is to say that any resident of the Ground is normal when there’s more trash than people every year? Whoever she was, Enjin didn’t have time for brats who cross their arms and get all up in his space no matter how small they are. 

“Alright, party’s over. Get out of my room before I throw you out myself.”

The woman sighed with a stomp of her foot, “You’re so frustrating! Fine! Since you’re so stupid like a dumb little fly, I’ll explain it to you better!”

“I’m moving in with you!”

He let out an unamused chuckle of disbelief, sweat dropping down his temple as he stared down at the woman who reached no further than his chest. Like hell that was true! Enjin couldn’t recall hearing news about a new roommate, but he definitely knew that this woman was most certainly a delusional psycho with issues. Probably more issues than what someone of her height could mostly capacitate—her ego was literally bigger than her.

And dealing with snobby brats was not how Enjin wanted to spend his afternoon!

a/n: i told myself that i would explore new genres of writing but never saw myself writing something like this. today's takoyaki burnt my tongue but it was worthwhile.

← (return to contents.)

(proceed to chapter two.) →

　　　　でも今はおやすみなさい、ランタン。

[enjinsdoll]

꒰ ᴛᴏᴏ ꜱᴇɴꜱɪᴛɪᴠᴇ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ enjin goes too far during an argument, but semiu sets him straight.

like every other argument also this one wasn’t that serious when it started.

think about one of those stupid, tired little spats that happened at the end of the day. your voices grew sharper and the patience ran thin. not that anyone could blame you two - it had been another long day of missions.

now you were standing near the doorway, arms crossed, trying to explain something that mattered to you, something small but not really small at all.

and enjin. fuck. this man just won’t listen.

“you always do this,” he snapped, dragging a hand through his hair. “you take everything so damn personally.”

your chest tightened. this was close to escalating.

“because it is personal,” you retorted.

“no, it’s not,” he shot back immediately, frustration bleeding into his tone. “you just make it that way because you—”

he stopped for half a second, but it wasn’t fast enough.

“—because you’re too sensitive to handle anything without turning it into a problem.”

this shut you up for good. okay, not for good as your entire face fell. all that anger drained out of your chest, and when you spoke next your voice was all small and hurt.

“okay.”

enjin knew that he had fucked up. he just didn’t knew how massive he had fucked up yet, because he was still to caught in his irritation.

“don’t do that,” he rumbled out.

you already did it as you stepped back slowly and shook your head. “no, it’s fine. you’ve said enough.”

the door slammed harder than you intended as you left the room and him behind.

enjin stood there motionless, because his brain needed a moment to catch up.

“shit.”

he turned away from the door and ran a hand over his face. the irritation drained out of him in an instant, replaced by guilt. or whatever.

he left the room next and walked toward the main lounge. plan for now was to sit down, smoke a cigarette or five and cool off.

he didn’t even make it halfway.

“okay.” semius’ voice cut through the quiet like a blade.

she was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, staring at him with a look that already said she knew everything.

“i heard your door slam,” she said flatly. “and i saw her walk past. the fuck did you say to her?”

enjin stiffened slightly. “it’s not—”

“don’t.” she pushed off the wall, stepping closer. “don’t give me that. what did you say?”

he hesitated, and that hesitation told her enough. for her it was simple - enjin was enjin, and whatever happened wasn’t your fault.

“i told her she’s too sensitive,” he muttered.

semius stared at him in disbelief. she knew he could be a little tone deaf since you were his first serious relationship, but that was a bit too much.

“wow,” she deadpanned. “you’re actually stupid.”

“hey—”

“no, no,” she cut him off, holding up a hand. “let’s think about this together, yeah? you told the person who trusts you the most that her feelings are basically inconvenient and exaggerated.”

he frowned, defensive instinct flaring. “that’s not what i meant.”

“it doesn’t matter what you meant,” semius snapped. “it matters what you said.”

that hit a little harder. shame filled him and he looked away.

“she was upset already, wasn’t she?” semius continued. “and instead of listening, you made her feel like she’s the problem.”

enjin’s jaw tightened. “i didn’t think it would—”

“hurt her?” semius let out a short, humorless laugh. “enjin. she cares about what you say. of course it hurt her.”

it clicked, a slow sinking oh. he had seen how your face had gone still and you stopped arguing with him. you just accepted it, because you had believed him.

“shit,” he breathed. “fuck fuck fuck.”

“yeah,” she said. “shit.” her finger came dangerously close to poking his eye out. “fix it.”

he knocked on your door not even a minute later. had half ran down the hallway, because there was no way he’d let you believe you’d be a problem.

“hey,” he said carefully. “can i come in?”

nothing.

“please?”

he reached for the handle, hesitating before pushing it open. the sight made him sick. you were curled up on your bed with your back to him. your shaking shoulders made it clear you were crying.

“hey,” he tried again, stepping in. “i—”

“go away.”

oh fuck. the way your voice cracked made it worse.

“i didn’t mean—”

“i said go away, enjin.”

his name hurt on your tongue and it broke something in him. this can’t be happening.

if he’d lose you… no, he can’t even think about that.

he swallowed hard, guilt sitting heavy in his chest as he spoke softly. “okay. but i’m sorry, yeah?”

no response.

enjin could’ve easily wait until the morning and surprise you with a breakfast to bed. but he was restless. sleeping? no fucking way.

so, he worked all night.

the next morning when you woke up and walked towards the lounge you were met with silence. confused you blinked, because normally, at this time, this part of the headquarter was buzzing with life.

peaking around the corner your eyes widened. the entire lounge was… different.

there were lights strung across the ceiling. your favorite snacks laid out on the table. blankets piled neatly like a nest. even that stupid plush you mentioned liking once, sitting right in the middle like it belonged there.

and enjin stood right next to the plushie, looking like he hadn’t slept at all.

he rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly unsure if this was too much. or not good enough. “hi.”

you blinked at him, overwhelmed and confused. “what’s all this?”

he exhaled. “me… trying not to be an asshole.”

a half laugh, half sob bubbled out of your throat. enjin took that as a win as he approached with the tiniest steps known to mankind.

“i messed up,” he gave no excuses. “what i said was… shit. and i didn’t think before i said it, and that’s on me. not you.”

your throat tightened. this was your man again.

“you’re not too sensitive,” he continued softly. “you just… feel things. and i should’ve respected that instead of making you feel bad about it. i’m really sorry.”

cautiously you stepped forward and looked up at him. “you really stayed up all night to do this for me?”

he huffed softly. “yeah.” he added then quieter, “semius threatened me too, so.”

that made you laugh properly this time, even if it wobbled. you could imagine that she gave him an earful and had to hold back not to tear his ass apart.

hesitantly he opened his arms and looked at you with big, lost eyes. you had planned to let him grovel some more, but he did all that for you and genuinely was sorry.

you closed the distance anyway, burying your face into his chest. his hold was way too tight as he breathed you in. you didn’t mind one bit.

“i didn’t mean to hurt you,” he murmured into your hair.

“i know,” you whispered back.

it might still hurt a little. but enjin was a man who did reflect on the impact, and tried his best. that was all that mattered.

[revyourenjins]

HERE KITTY!

Content: hybrid!au, afab!reader (she/her used), lion hybrid!enjin, handjob (m receiving), cumplay, fingering, p in v, dom!reader, ruts, desperate men whining, breeding kink, overworking, love island references, kind of sugar mommy!reader, minors DNI

Pairing: enjin x reader

Word Count: 10.7k

A/N: I can’t really decide whether I love or hate this. As per last time, if anything is OOC please don’t tell me!!! I was just having too much fun imagining Enjin w cute little ears.

find part 2 here!

Your apartment was silent, the only sound the click of the door as you push it closed behind you. Floor-to-ceiling windows on the far wall reveal the city, unfurled and glittering with lights that could only be appreciated fully from high up and late at night.

Dinner had been eaten in stolen mouthfuls at your desk as you finished up editing some contracts. You’d sent them over for your paralegal to review on Monday before you’d decided you were done for the night. You’d made sure she went home on time, promising her that you’d be out just behind her - a white lie she’d tell you off for later.

Heels kicked off in the entryway, you pad over to the well-stocked wine fridge, grab a crisp, cold bottle and a glass, and sink into the plush material of your sofa. It was basically good as new with all the time you spent at home. The partners at your firm had told you time and again that really, this wasn’t the kind of company where you had to bill eighty hour weeks. You always smiled and assured them that the late nights and weekends in the office were because you loved the work, not because you felt you had to prove yourself.

And you did!

But another contributing factor was that there was nothing for you at home. At least in the office you had coworkers, chats around the coffee machine, clients to soothe and arm with reams of meticulously prepared documents - things to get done.Those same people had real homes. Loved ones waiting for them, pets, housemates. It almost made you miss sharing a house. Almost.

The dim lighting in your apartment couldn’t hide the sharp lines, the minimalist aesthetic that you’d curated for yourself. Low stress, satisfyingly clean. Like a model home, unlived in, other than the bookshelves/television stand that took up the whole wall, stuffed full of well-loved volumes.

You unlock your phone with a sigh, taking a decidedly un-elegant glug of wine. Who cared, it was only you here anyway. It opened on the chat thread with your best friend, your lifeline, who’d moved to Paris last year. The link was still there - a news article.

Hybrids: The Best Option for Busy Professionals?

The headline had done nothing but make you snort in amusement when you’d received it earlier in the day, surrounded by the bustle of the office, but now that the quiet was hovering over you like a storm-cloud you couldn’t stop yourself from clicking.

The journalist listed the beneficial qualities of hybrid pets over animals - they were relatively self sufficient so didn’t need you to be home all day, they were good company, affectionate, helpful, and so on and so forth. You scrolled past pictures of grinning dog hybrids, sleek cat hybrids, and the interview with an anonymous business man and his rabbit hybrid. ‘It’s just so nice to have someone to come home to!’ He’s quoted as saying, and you find yourself shuddering in pity for the poor bunny, refusing to acknowledge your own hypocrisy.

The article went so far as to include links to adoption centres and specialist agencies across the country. You pour yourself another glass, the amount of liquid left in the bottle dwindling alarmingly quickly. The first place was just outside your city, and had a plethora of different hybrid types. A few catch your eye, and you hover your thumb over their profiles for just a moment before imagining them clawing at your meticulously pristine furniture, or twitching and drooling at your sofa. The thought alone makes you move along.

No - you had a very specific aesthetic, a powerful job, buckets of corporate money with nothing to funnel it into except for your mortgage and groceries. You could fritter away a portion of it on a hybrid that suited you, who was going to stop you?

You pour another glass, frowning when it only fills your glass halfway. You go back to the list of links, squinting to focus your eyes on the screen. T. C. Exotic Hybrids

Perfect. A glossier website than the others, precisely formulated fact files on each of the hybrids on offer. The long lashes and horns of an antelope hybrid catch your eye briefly, and then you’re distracted by the rounded chubby cheeks of a sugar glider. Before you know it, you’re at the bottom of the webpage where another link flashes at you from the screen.

[Predators →]

Now this is what you were talking about. Striking eyes stare out at you, some revealing sharped teeth to the camera - you didn’t have any security worries in your high rise, but one can never be too safe! You’re entranced by the bulk of a bear hybrid, cooing at his cute ears, and read every word of the care description of a cheetah hybrid like you’d already paid for her.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The early morning light makes you scrunch your nose in discontent. Had you forgotten to close your curtains last night? One eye cracks open just to realise you’d never made it to bed at all - you’d passed out, still in your work clothes, in the corner of the sofa with your phone in hand. You rub at your face, picking yourself up and taking your drained wine glass to the sink.

You were in the middle of making your breakfast when your phone emits the cheerful whoosh! of an incoming email. Expecting work, you skim the subject line and stop dead.

[Subject: Hybrid Enquiry]

‘No way,’ You mutter, kicking your wine-drunk self for making decisions that you affect sober you. At least it was just an enquiry, right?

Thank you for your interest in one of our hybrids! Your initial application form has been carefully assessed by our team and we have determined that you would be a great fit for one of our predator-class hybrids. Congratulations!

In line with the availability you submitted, we have organised a meeting time. Should you choose to proceed with the adoption, your £650 application fee will go towards materials for getting your hybrid settled.

We look forward to seeing you soon!

You check the date they’d listed on the email, and then your calendar. That was today. In a few hours. ‘No way,’ You groan, louder. And you’d paid real money? Were you insane?! The email hadn’t even listed the hybrid you’d applied for - and you couldn’t find any evidence either. Maybe it was the cheetah?

A quick read of the hybrid forums emphasised the importance of wearing something that smelled like you, like a favourite hoodie, to allow them to get used to your scent. Maybe it was lucky after all that you’d slept in your clothes. Work trousers swapped for a more comfortable pair of jeans, you head out. From your car, you shoot a text to your friend to blame her for your predicament, and get only a row of laughing emojis in response.

You curse her under your breath as you park outside T. C. Exotic. Usually a drive in the car you’d spent your first big bonus on soothed you, but today it did little for your nerves. What if you’d applied for the bear? Would he even fit in the passenger seat?

The clack of your heels echoed on the polished floor, drawing the attention of the man sitting behind the reception desk. He stands, a serene smile on his face.

‘Ah, you must be my twelve o’clock,’ His voice is smooth, putting you at ease. The brass name tag pinned to his white collared shirt reads Tamsy Caines. ‘You know, I was surprised to get your application. Most women prefer prey-class hybrids.’

You chuckle nervously. ‘I guess I like to stand out,’ You joke, fiddling with the strap of your handbag.

‘There’s nothing wrong with that,’ Tamsy smiles, taking a folder from a drawer and leading you towards a set of double doors. He tapped in a code on the keypad and held one of the doors open for you. ‘Ladies first.’

The centre looked more like an up-scale hotel than the animal shelter you were expecting. The doors were dark wood, with emblazoned symbols on them denoting the species of hybrid held within. Small tables along the hallway featured thriving houseplants, and overhead skylights bathed the corridors in natural sunlight. You pass a lively dining area, peeking into the open door for a brief moment to see a dozen hybrids chatting to one another.

‘This is the prey-class area,’ Tamsy says, pulling your attention away. ‘The predators require their own space, for obvious reasons.’ He may have caught the slightly horrified look on your face. ‘Our hybrids are highly unlikely to harm one another, or humans, but we find it’s best practice that there be some separation. It’s more soothing for everyone.’

It was far less appealing to have a hybrid that was going to go out of its way to maul anyone you pass in the park.

‘May I ask what interested you in our selection?’ Tamsy asks, tapping in another key code on a more robust set of doors.

‘I work a lot,’ You blurt out, stomach churning with nerves. ‘My friend was getting worried and sent me an article about hybrids - she thinks it’d help me to have someone around the house - and they’d recommended you.’

‘So a lucky piece of advertising?’ Tamsy quips. He stops in front of a door without an animal symbol. ‘This is one of our meeting rooms,’ He explains. ‘You make yourself comfortable in here, have a look through his information, and I’ll bring Enjin through to meet you.’ He looks at you carefully. ‘Do try not to be nervous. This is an exciting day for the two of you.’ He gives you that serene smile and hands over the file you’d seen him take out of the reception desk.

You open the door as his footsteps fade. The comfortable lounge space welcomes you in, windows flung wide and circulating fresh air and birdsong. The tension in your shoulders loosens somewhat as you take a seat, crossing your legs carefully and opening the file.

A photo of a hybrid you don’t remember seeing stares up at you, fluffy ears poking out from his tousled blond hair. The introduction page couldn’t be clearer as to what you were getting yourself in for. At the top of the page, in a font size three times bigger than the rest of the words: LION. You skim the following pages, information on feeding routines, hybrid’s history, care instructions. Your head spun. What were you supposed to do with a lion?!

The muted sound of the latch clicking into place drew your attention, and you snap the file closed. You felt like a deer in the headlights. The hybrid towered over you, looking down and pinning you in place with his golden eyes. If not for the sound of the door, you wouldn’t have known he was even there, and it seemed impossible that someone so huge could move in silence.

You squeak something that you hope sounds like ‘Hello,’ and Enjin grins, revealing lethal canines.

‘Cute,’ He says, loping across the floor with an easy grace and setting himself into the chair opposite yours. ‘Tamsy said you were wound up. No need to be scared, ma,’ He slouches back into the chair, long legs spreading wide, and you couldn’t help but notice the cute puff of fur on the tip of his tail as it swung lazily over the arm of the chair.

‘I’m not wound up,’ You huff. ‘This just isn’t where I thought I’d be today.’

‘Oh?’ His eyes sharpen with interest.

Given the opportunity to unload the horrors of your day, you jumped at it. You rub at your forehead with two manicured fingers. ‘I got home late from work late and drank a bunch of wine and somehow managed to submit an application. I didn’t even realise I’d done it and then this morning found out I’d already paid a ridiculously expensive application fee - stop laughing!’

The hybrid was shaking with barely contained laughter, his face lit up with mirth and a thousand miles from the intimidating expression he’d had when he’d first stepped into the room. ‘Sorry, that’s just so stupid.’

‘I know,’ You admit, letting your head fall to rest on the back of the chair.

‘I won’t complain though,’ He says, voice rumbling pleasantly. ‘’S not often I get requests, ‘n it gets boring in here.’

You lift your head, looking at him with surprise. ‘Really? But you’re so,’ You motion at him. ‘I would’ve thought at least some kind of security company would want someone like you.’

‘They’ve tried,’ His voice is devious. ‘But I always make them back out in the end.’

His playful tone and easy banter makes it easy to open up to him, and you chat about your diabolically poor work-life balance and the half-drunk idea that having a hybrid would mean you get home at normal hours without sacrificing your career. Ten minutes pass before you realise you hadn’t asked him anything, instead sitting and rambling about your lonely evenings.

‘How long have you been here?’ You blurt. ‘Sorry, is that rude? I don’t know the etiquette of these things.’

‘You’re good,’ Enjin waves away your worried stammering. ‘Uh… two years maybe?’

‘That’s a long time…’ You say, half to yourself.

‘I’d rather be here than working my ass off for some dude in a warehouse somewhere,’ He says sourly, and you think back to the pages of the file you’d flipped through. Lion hybrids need, on average, about fifteen hours of sleep per day. Not exactly conducive to getting a job.

‘So you want to be a housecat?’

He leans forward, elbows on his knees and fingers laced under his chin. ‘I’ll be anything you want me to be, mama.’

Filling out the forms didn’t take as long as you thought it would. Enjin perched on the counter beside you, tail flicking, as you finished all of the sections and double checked you had all your information, paying the eye-watering charge for your new… pet? Housemate?

Tamsy presented you with what he called a ‘beginner care kit’, filled with vacuum sealed packs of raw meat and the file you’d been reading earlier. He promised you that it had everything that you’d need to know. ‘But if you have any questions, you know how to get in contact with me. Good luck, you two!’ He chirps as he waves the two of you head out the door.

As soon as you’re safely back in your car, Enjin folded into the passenger seat, reality hits you. What have you done?!

You stop by a locksmith on your way back to the apartment, getting a spare key cut. Having a hybrid trapped in your house felt like you were turning into Mother Gothel.

Enjin whistled lowly when you unlocked the front door, and moved straight over to the fridge to store the bucketloads of meat you’d just been given. He stalked through the kitchen to the living room, inspecting all the corners and taking a look out of the window onto the cityscape below.

‘What do you think?’ You ask, trying not to give away how much you wanted his approval.

He turned to you with a wide smile on his handsome face. ‘I’m thinking about how great it is that you’re pretty and rich.’

Day 3

Living with another person was going to take some getting used to.

Although Enjin had a bedroom, you learned early on that he didn’t use it. One morning you were up early for work, barely conscious. You beelined for the kitchen, dreaming of pricey bag of coffee beans a client had gifted you. You flicked the switch on your espresso machine with a yawn and leant against the counter to check your emails.

‘Good morning,’ A voice purred from behind you, making you jump out of your skin.

‘Jesus, warn a girl first,’ You said, whipping around to see Enjin, stretched out on the sofa in nothing but a pair of loose basketball shorts. ‘And put on some clothes!’

‘I got too hot,’ He grumbled, his eyes raking down your body. ‘Besides, if you’re gonna complain about me you’ve gotta fix yourself first. Not that I mind the view.’

You’d gotten so used to wandering around your apartment in the vest and short-shorts you slept in that it was second nature to trot straight out of your bedroom without changing. You feel yourself flushing and march back to get dressed, trailed by Enjin’s laughing.

Day 6

Your main objective for getting a hybrid was realised pretty quickly. Getting out of work on time became routine within the first week. There was never anything out of place when you got home, so it wasn’t that you were worried Enjin had destroyed anything in your absence, but just the idea of there being someone present was enough to see you leaving the office while the sun was still in the sky.

A second, unexpected benefit raised its head early on too. Enjin could, technically, survive on raw meat. But why do that when it could be cooked into a meal?

Instead of rushed microwave meals over your keyboard, your evenings were instead spent playfully bickering in your previously underused kitchen with a six-three slab of muscle listing off cheesy chat-up lines at you from your kitchen island while you cooked. He had offered to help, but backed off when you said that being in the kitchen at the same time as another person was your worst nightmare come to life.

Now, he just sat and watched you move between the stove and your prep area, making sure the music matched your vibe on whatever evening it was, and handing you utensils when you needed them. In short, he was the perfect sous chef.

You plate up the food; tonight’s menu was steaming bowls of creamy pasta, steak, and roasted broccoli. A far cry from limp microwaved carbonara. You moan to yourself in satisfaction as you make your way to the sofa, Enjin trailing after you. The next episode of the show you’d started together was already queued up on the screen, and the two of you provided a running commentary between mouthfuls of food.

‘Ben’s clearly an asshole but Harry’s not much better. He’s leading them both on.’ You wrinkle your nose in distaste.

‘Shakira could definitely do better than Harry,’ Enjin agrees, waving his fork at the screen. ‘But mark my words, they’ll be endgame.’

‘Wanna bet?’ You say, and he stretches his hand across for you to shake.

Bowls emptied and placed in the dishwasher, you curl into your corner of the sofa. You had a side now, it wasn’t just you and the infinite space of the apartment. Your eyes flitted between the screen and Enjin, who was still complaining about the pool that the show’s contestants seemed to be ignoring entirely.

‘If I had a pool like that I’d be in there twenty four seven, why are they just sitting around it?!’ He glanced over at you and caught you looking at him, flashing you a smile. ‘What?’

‘I dunno. I just started thinking about how this is what I wanted,’ You flush, tucking your chin under the collar of your jumper. ‘When my friend sent me the link I thought I’d end up with a dog or cat hybrid, but I’m glad it was you.’

‘Look at you going all soft on me,’ Enjin crooned, his smile widening. ‘I’m glad you got wine drunk and made bad decisions.’

You stretch out one leg to kick him in the thigh but he catches your ankle, stroking the skin there and moving your leg across his lap. ‘No violence, I’ll call animal welfare on you.’

Day 20

Spring meant that the days were lengthening, the evening sun casting beautiful rays of light into your apartment. You stand at the window, looking over the city, hair hanging damp around your shoulders from your after-work shower.

‘I always wanted to go on a sunset walk down the river,’ You say aloud, tracing the glittering course of the water with your finger against the glass.

‘So why don’t you?’ Enjin asks from his post on the sofa, tail flicking lazily.

‘Are you kidding? I’m a girl. Walking alone as it gets dark is not as relaxing as it should be when you think there are kidnappers around every corner.’ You sigh, staring wistfully.

A prod at your cheek made you snap out of it. ‘Who said anything about being alone, mama. What’s the point of having a me around if not to scare off kidnappers?’

‘I thought you didn’t want to do security,’ You reply, batting his hand away from your face.

‘Not for a dude in a warehouse, but I’d do it for someone like you.’ Enjin starts towards the door, pulling on his trainers and a battered baseball cap, beckoning for you to join him.

In the elevator down to the ground floor you flick the brim of his cap. ‘What’s with the hat?’

‘The ears are harder to hide than the tail,’ He shrugged indifferently. ‘’M proud of what I come from, but if I’m walking with a pretty girl I want to be any other guy, y’know? Seeing ‘the king of the jungle’ in the middle of a city turns heads.’ His tattooed fingers trace quote marks into the air as he speaks.

You hum thoughtfully. ‘I get it.’ You smile up at him, straightening the hat on his head. ‘We can give you the full ‘normal guy on a sunset date’ experience.’

Enjin’s not even sure if you know what you’ve said. The elevator doors open and you practically skip out, the siren song of the riverside working its magic on you. The route takes you directly past your favourite cafe, and you nip in for a moment to order two hot chocolates. The wind by the river still holds some of the winter chill in it despite the arrival of spring.

He accepts the cup from you, his nose pink from the wind, and listens to you preaching about how this was the best hot chocolate simply because they melted down real chocolate chips for each drink. You slip your arm through his, exclaiming wordlessly at just how much prettier the view is from the ground.

Magnolia and cherry trees bloomed along the walkway, the golden hour sunlight plucking out all of the details of the individual flowers and illuminating the petals that shivered off the branches when the wind blew.

You walked for longer than you’d expected, conversation flowing easily. Your arm hooked through his becomes almost normal, like this was something you did every day. The sunset spreads across the sky, spectacularly vibrant, and then fades into the deep blue of evening. The cue to head back home. The chill became more vicious once the dark settles around you, and you shiver a little despite your jumper. Maybe checking the weather report before running out the apartment next time would be a good idea.

The shivering becoming more pronounced draws Enjin’s attention, and without missing a beat he releases his arm from yours, wrapping it instead around your shoulders and pulling you into his side.

‘C’mere, ma.’ Respite from the wind combined with his insane body heat offered you instant relief, and you relax into his body. ‘Wear a coat next time, we don’t want the breadwinner getting sick.’

‘You just want me for my money,’ You laugh, and he leans down to rest his cheek against the top of your head for a moment.

‘Hey, I like your cooking too.’

He won’t let you go even in the elevator back up to the apartment, hand rubbing your upper arm to fight the cold.

‘Who knew walking without fearing for your life would be so nice?’ You joke as you push the door of the apartment open, toeing off your shoes. You turn to your companion, noticing for a moment the sliver of skin between his t-shirt and jeans that appears when he reaches up to put his hat back on the shelf. ‘How was your normal guy time?’

‘Couldn’t have asked for better.’

‘Oh! I almost forgot.’ You grab the front of his shirt, using it as leverage to pull him down to your level to press a quick kiss to his cheek. ‘Any good normal guy date ends with a kiss goodnight. I’ve got to be up early tomorrow for a meeting. I’ll be home about six-ish.’

Your chatter distracts you from noticing the fact that Enjin had turned into a man-shaped statue in the doorway, only moving a muscle once you’d disappeared into your bedroom with a distant ‘night!’

Frustration coiled in him, low in his belly. Your soft touches, the press of your lips, your body against his. The fact that he was just your pet. He’d never be able to sleep like this - even though you’d warned him about late night showers and losing your vital hours of sleep, he thought you’d understand. Stupid expensive apartment and its stupid massaging showerhead.

The water beat down on his shoulders, doing its best to relieve the tension that had his muscles bunched as if he was about to pounce. The noise was enough to mask the muffled groans that managed to escape the mean way that he bit down on his lip as he fisted his cock, thinking of how your chest had pressed up against him while you’d walked, how pretty your mouth would look around him -

He jolts as he cums, legs barely holding him upright as he leans on the tiled wall, letting it sap the heat from his skin.

Day 32

At first you think the noise is some sort of power drill the upstairs neighbours are running. A low rumbling, finding its way over the noise of your morning shower. You turn off the water, stepping out and into one of your fluffy towels.

There’s a knock on the front door, and you dry yourself haphazardly. Enjin had been napping in his room so he wouldn’t have heard the door, and you were certain the parcel your friend had sent you from Paris was supposed to arrive today. Towel secured around you and modesty (mostly) intact you hurry down the hall, droplets of water hitting the polished floorboards in your wake.

You jump when upon reaching the living room - Enjin was sat on the sofa, eyes fixed on the front door and his tail lashing irritably, the dark fur on the tip puffed up in agitation. What you’d thought was a power drill was actually a growl rumbling from his chest.

‘Heard of answering the door?’ You ask, heading over to the entryway.

‘Are you insane?!’ He all but yells from behind you, launching himself off the sofa and past you to the door in a few steps. He opens the door a fraction of an inch, staring down the poor mailman.

‘Parcel for 801?’ The mailman manages, and Enjin sticks his hand through the minute gap that he’d allowed. ‘Have a good day, sir!’

He closes the door before the man had even finished speaking. Enjin turns, holding out your parcel.

‘What was that about? Please don’t kill the postman,’ You laugh, the amusement fading when you process his blown out pupils. ‘You okay?’

His eyes on you make you very aware that you’re only in a towel. A droplet of water traces its way down your chest and disappears into your cleavage. One tawny ear flicks, and he averts his eyes.

‘He came too close,’ Enjin grumbles, nearly too quietly for you to hear. ‘’N then I thought he was gonna see you like that.’

The agitated movement of his tail drew your attention. Lions were territorial, right? This must be one of those instinctual behaviours that hybrids have programmed into them. You give him a soft smile that you hope is reassuring. ‘Why don’t you go sit down, Jin? I’ll get dressed ‘n maybe we can watch a movie or something.’ You step forward, raising a hand carefully to the top of his head, scratching the back of one of his ears gently. ‘You did a good job protecting us.’ His ear twitches again as you step back and head to your room.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

‘Literally what are you saying to my face right now,’ You’re stunned, remote in hand, out of your towel and into your favourite lazy Saturday outfit. ‘How can you have never seen the Lion King?!’

Enjin is still sulking, his mood lightening ever so slightly under your attention. ‘Why would I watch a movie for kids?’

‘You were a kid once, though!’

He shrugs. ‘We were a no-TV household.’

‘We’re watching it,’ You decide, hitting play and grabbing your iced coffee from the side table. ‘And you’d better pay attention.’

You surprised yourself by still remembering all the words to the songs, belting out how you just can’t wait to be king!with the TV remote acting as a microphone. Enjin’s attention was split between you and the screen, an amused smirk replacing the frown that had been there since the postman incident.

After half an hour Enjin had ended up lying with his head in your lap, your fingers carding through his hair absentmindedly. He had become completely absorbed in the film, eyes wide and pupils pinprick-small with focus. It was the most catlike you’d seen him.

A rumbling hum sounds over the film as your nails graze the back of the lion hybrid’s ear, and Enjin’s cheeks pink.

‘What was that?’ You ask, a laugh bubbling behind your words.

‘Nothing, don’t worry about it.’ He grumbles. ‘Watch your movie.’

You do - for a moment - until you repeat your actions, just to check. The fur on the back of his ear is downy and soft, and you scratch ever-so-lightly at its base, once again drawing that rumbling noise from your poor hybrid.

This time, despite the embarrassed look on his face, Enjin leans back into your touch. You can feel the vibration of his vocalising through your fingertips, moving to massage the rounded tips of his ears.

You watch his face as Scar tricks Simba into going into the gorge. At the moment that Simba’s ears pin back against his head when the wildebeest are stampeding Enjin’s do the same, as if in solidarity. A tiny line appears between the hybrid’s brows, and you feel him tensing.

‘Long live the King,’ Scar hisses from the screen. Enjin bolts up from your lap, turning to you with anguish.

‘What the fuck?!’

‘Sorry babe,’ You smile sheepishly.

He drops back into his spot, grabbing your wrist and placing your hand back onto his head. ‘Simba better get revenge.’

Forty minutes later, he’s on his feet and yelling at the TV. Your phone’s camera is centred on him, capturing the moment. For blackmail purposes.

‘That’s my boy! That’s my fuckin’ boy! Ay, stop recording me!’

Later, in bed, you scroll through the search results for can lions purr? The general consensus was no, they don’t have the anatomy for purring - but when they feel safe, relaxed, or affectionate they will chuff. You click on a YouTube link, watching a lioness rub the top of her head into a person’s palm and making the same rumbling that Enjin had made at your ministrations earlier. Cute.

Day 40

It had been over a month since you’d spent a weekend in the office. At first you’d been worried that there would be comments about your lack of output, a pile-up of emails on Monday morning, angry clients and disappointed partners. In reality, your regular clients had commented on how happy you looked. Other associates were asking if you had started seeing someone new. Your paralegal, the only person other than your managing partner that knew about Enjin, would ask strategically worded questions about your ‘pet’ with a coy smile.

That’s why, instead of being neck deep in unfair dismissal claims, you were stretching your way languidly out of bed at ten in the morning. Enjin was already in the kitchen, as usual. The little green light on your espresso machine was already lit, and you shoot him a fond glance.

‘Trying to get me caffeinated already?’ You ask, opening the fridge and assessing its bare shelves.

‘I heard you moving around all night,’ He says by way of explanation. ‘Don’t want to deal with you being annoyed all day just ‘cause you didn’t sleep.’

You shut the fridge firmly. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you up. There’s a couple of deadlines coming up that I couldn’t stop thinking about,’ Your voice trails off as your mind becomes a list of tasks and spreadsheets. ‘Anyway! We don’t have any food. Get dressed, we’re going out.’

Walking past one of the big reflective windows on your way to a brunch spot your paralegal had recommended months ago, you take the chance to appreciate Enjin’s side profile. He really was handsome, you mused. Even a month after bringing him home you weren’t quite used to how good-looking he was. The slouchy, oversized jumper and loose jeans he’d ordered online with your card gave him that effortlessly cool look that had made you stare when he’d shown off his purchases to you last week. Your outfit, which you’d put on in the optimistic hope that you’d go to Pilates for the first time in eons after breakfast, made you looked like polar opposites.

‘No cap today?’ You noticed.

‘No one’s gonna be looking at me when you’re right there,’ He replies, making you shove him playfully - which, of course, doesn’t move him an inch.

Your destination was tucked into the older quarter of the city centre, with a rooftop patio to allow you to enjoy the views of the historic architecture. The coffee was just as good as your paralegal had assured you - they’d had bags of their specialty roast on the counter that you were nearly tempted to take home - and the menu claimed to have been formulated by a Michelin-star chef.

Enjin chucked the menu on the table in front of him, giving up on the wordy descriptions. ‘What happened to normal breakfast?’ He complained. You hushed him, eyes flicking over to the waitress clearing a table nearby. ‘I bet they’re all teeny tiny portions too,’ His tone is mocking, and although the portions that you’ve seen being brought out look generous by normal standards, they won’t be enough to satisfy your hybrid’s seemingly bottomless stomach.

‘Get two then,’ You say simply. ‘I’m paying anyway.’

‘Ah, my rich girl.’

When the waitress returns, he picks not one but three dishes. You’d brought this upon yourself, you supposed. The food was delicious, and even Enjin had stopped complaining about the portions and the pricing to tuck in.

You finish well before him, fiddling with your napkin as you watch him eat. ‘Enjin?’

‘Yeah?’ He manages around a mouthful of breakfast burger.

‘You don’t regret coming back with me, right?’

‘Why would I regret that?’

’I don’t know… I just started worrying on my way home from work the other day,’ You say shakily, shredding the napkin between your fingers into increasingly tiny pieces. ‘I go out every day ‘n leave you all by yourself, and when we do things it’s always what I want. I don’t want you to feel, like, unenriched or something.’

He snorts at that. ‘I’m not a zoo animal, I can enrich myself just fine.’ Leaning across the table, he stills your frantic hands, forcing you to look up at him. ‘If I wasn’t happy, trust me, angel, you’d know about it. Being with you is the best thing I could’ve imagined out of that place.’

‘So you don’t wish you’d gone with someone else?’

‘No way. They only saw the hybrid type and wanted to use that to their own means. Sure, your motivation was self-serving, but you came in and saw me. Besides, none of those guys would have let me nap on their couch, and they weren’t half as nice to look at.’

You sag back into your seat. ‘Thank goodness.’

The city had well and truly woken up by the time you were back out on the pavement, weaving your way towards your normal Pilates studio. Enjin trailed after you, the crowds parting for him in a way you envied.

The glass front of the studio gleamed in the light. Tucking into the open doorway to escape the foot traffic, you turn to Enjin.

‘My class is only an hour, so I can give you my card and you can come back when I’m done,’ You say, digging through your tote to find your wallet.

‘I can’t stay with you?’ The pout is tangible in his voice.

‘It won’t be very interesting,’ You reply, rolling your eyes. ‘You’ll have way more fun exploring or something.’

He grumbles something under his breath as you press your wallet into his hand.

The ponytailed receptionist behind the desk chirps. ‘We do have a hybrid-friendly policy!’

‘You hear that?’ Enjin says, pointing in her direction. ‘Hybrid friendly.’

‘I can’t stop you,’ You relent, throwing your hands up in surrender.

‘Great!’ The receptionist’s bright tone makes you wonder instantly if you should have shoved him out the door. ‘You’re welcome to participate, or you can sit in on the session,’ She says to Enjin, her smile particularly friendly as she takes him in fully. She turns to you. ‘It’ll be an extra fee on your membership.’

‘Great,’ You mutter, stalking through to your usual room as Enjin makes sure to give the receptionist an extra ‘thanks’ in his warmest tone.

You unfurl your mat, greeting the instructor and explaining the presence of your hybrid. He stretches out on the floor beside your mat, supporting his head with one tattooed hand. He looks his most leonine like this, you muse. Like the lions in those nature documentaries, lazing in the sun. Utterly relaxed. Irritatingly so.

He joins in with infuriating ease, barely needing to put any effort in at all. Instead, he spends the session watching you - the stretch of your muscles, the exerted flush of your cheeks, the cute noise you make when you nearly lose your balance. He’s so distracting that you put more effort into ignoring him than into your workout.

And he did the whole thing in jeans.

It was the most torturous hour of your life.

‘I’m never bringing you here ever again,’ You mutter furiously as you walk past the desk, Enjin returning the receptionist’s enthusiastic wave.

‘I had fun,’ He shrugs, the cocky smirk on his face making you groan.

‘I bet you did. The receptionist and the instructor were making eyes at you the whole time we were in there,’ You say, marching back towards your apartment block. ‘She was my favourite one!’

‘Jealous?’ His tone is laced with amusement.

‘No!’

‘Don’t worry, ma, I’ve only got eyes for you. Your form was perfect, in case you were wondering.’

‘I’m locking you out.’

Day 45

Your least favourite part of having anxiety was waking up like you were being drowned at three in the morning. It was always worse when you had impending deadlines, and those contracts you had yet to finish were looming large in your mind.

The alarm clock on the bedside table flashed the time at you as if mocking your predicament. 02:59. Right on cue.

The adrenaline of waking up so suddenly begins to drain, and you start your usual routine of tuning into your senses to try and lull yourself back into sleep. I can hear breathing, and the fridge running in the kitchen. I can feel the bed below me, and the blanket, and an arm…

An arm?

Hesitantly you feel your way down the duvet to where an arm is slung over your waist. Presumably, an arm connected to a person. You flick on your lamp and turn to see Enjin blinking in the light.

‘Some of us are trying to sleep,’ He rasps, the sleep still heavy in his voice.

‘Yeah, me,’ You bite. ‘What are you doing in my bed?’

He leans over you, reaching for the lamp and plunging the room back into darkness. His arm tightens around your middle, pulling your back into his front. ‘’M s’posed to be sleeping with my pride, ma. This is natural behaviour. I’m being enriched. Now shhhh, you have work tomorrow.’

‘We’re so talking about this in the morning,’ You hiss, nestling into the blankets. The warmth emanating from him and seeping into your skin was nice. Before you can return to your mindfulness routine, you’re already drifting back into slumber.

Your alarm hadn’t even gone off yet when you wake up for the second time that morning. Carefully slipping out from under his arm, you glance back at the bed as you tiptoe out the bedroom. Enjin lay flat on his stomach, the contours of his back revealed by the soft, early morning light creeping around the corners of your curtains.

Your heart thumps against your ribs and you tear your eyes away, gently closing the door so as not to disturb his sleep. That was just a feeling of affection for your friend/pet/housemate, you reassured yourself as you brush your teeth.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Never before had you been so glad to have had slept (almost) through the night. As soon as you set foot into the office there were a dozen tiny fires that needed to be put out - details that your client had picked out of what you’d hoped was the final draft of the contracts you’d prepared, calls from panicking executives, a meeting with the partners that you hadto attend, and on top of all that your laptop stopped working, meaning a stop by IT.

By five o’clock you felt like a wreck. You’d hoped to be leaving the office by now, the thought of picking up dinner on the way home and a couple of episodes of Love Island on the couch with Enjin sounding more and more dreamy. Alas, the deadlines you’d been dreading had crept up on you despite your anxieties, and thanks to all the disasters of the day you still had a few more things to tweak before you could go.

‘Is there anything else I can do to help?’ Your paralegal’s head pops over the divider between your desks. You smile up at her.

‘Don’t worry about it - you head home. I don’t have much left to do here, and everything else can be finished in the morning.’

She stares you down. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Okay - maybe I have a lot more to do. But once I get that done, the rest can be finished tomorrow.’

‘And there’s nothing you need from me?’

‘Maybe a decaf coffee from the machine? For moral support?’

She sighs at your obstinance, bringing you a steaming mug topped with the chocolate powder she knew you liked.

‘See you tomorrow, boss,’ She says lightly, setting the mug on your desk. ‘Don’t stay too late!’

The elevator dings! and then you’re alone. Just you and your legal jargon. The edits that your client had requested didn’t require any negotiation, thank goodness, but they were fiddly, and you checked and re-checked the details that you’d inputted so that when you sent the final documents over there was absolutely nothing that they could complain about.

You finish up the last couple of tweaks, making sure the file is saved on your laptop and your backup drive. You can feel your spine complain as you stretch in your seat, blue light glasses slipping down your nose. Time lost all meaning when you were deep in the weeds of your work, and you glanced at your watch. Nearly nine o’clock. No time for Love Island when you get home, then. Might as well check your inbox before you head off.

The cheery ding! of the elevator breaks the silence of the floor. You shout out a greeting without looking up, assuming it’s the cleaners hired by the building. You knew most of them thanks to your habitual late nights.

‘What are you still doing here?’ Maybe it wasn’t the cleaners. You glance up at Enjin. ‘I thought you got abducted on your way home or somethin’.’

You fumble for your phone, checking your text thread with your hybrid. The text that you’d written telling him you’d be home late still sat in the text bar, unsent. ‘Sorry…’ You turn the phone so he can see your error for himself. ‘I thought I’d told you. I’m finished now though,’ You promise, making a show of logging off and shutting down your computer.

The office was miles away from home. ‘How did you get here?’ You ask.

‘Ran.’

‘You ran?’ Unbelievable. He still looked perfectly composed, not a hair out of place, the only indication of his emotions that tell-tale flick of his ear.

His eyes slide away from you, chin jutting up. ‘I was worried.’

Now you really do feel bad. The thought of Enjin at home, pacing the floor and checking the clock springs to your mind unbidden. You were usually home by six, seven-thirty at the latest.

‘I’m sorry for scaring you,’ You say, starting to sling your bag over your shoulder when he takes it from you and, instead, slips his hand into yours.

‘Yeah, yeah,’ He says, shoulders unwinding at the contact. ‘Let’s get home, angel.’

By the time you’re back into your apartment, the exhaustion of the day is hitting you like a wave. The heat of your shower and the feeling of fresh, comfortable clothes makes your eyelids feel heavy. Enjin hands you a warm bowl of food, insisting that you need to eat before you go to bed, and you barely remember eating before you’re curled into the couch cushions drifting between consciousness and sleep.

You’re not sure whether you’re dreaming when you feel arms gently winding round you, lifting you with ease against a broad chest. The rocking movement must be steps, you decide, and the pine and smoke smell of your dreamed-up person made you think of crooked smiles and safety. The plush sheets of your bed welcome you readily, the arms shifting from under you. This was a good dream, you decide blearily, and you didn’t want it to end.

You grab for their hand sleepily, pulling them in. ‘Don’t leave,’ You whisper, words coming out slurred. You would have heard the huff of a laugh if you hadn’t fallen asleep immediately, felt the bed dip beside you, felt the press of lips against your cheek, forehead, shoulder. Instead, you sink into a dream of pine forests.

Day ???

It had been a couple of months of quietly enjoying your newfound companionship. With the biggest of the year’s deadlines behind you work had been quiet, summer was in full swing and you were able to enjoy it for the first time in years. You’d explored parts of the city you’d never been to before, gone swimming in a mountain lake just an hour’s drive away - you’d been living. And you’d done everything with Enjin by your side, with his presence stopping you from letting time slip through your fingers while sitting at a desk.

Since the day that he’d come to pick you up from work things had changed between you ever so subtly. He could pick up on your stress before you’d even processed it, would do tiny things to make your life a little easier. Coldbrew already in the fridge, or dinner made when you got home on the days you worked late.

He’d also started sleeping in your bed most nights. You tried to rationalise this. It’s just like having a cat sleep on the end of the bed! If the cat was over six feet tall with a raspy morning voice and kissed the crook of your neck in the mornings when it thought you were still asleep.

The fact that Enjin could sense your stress made you worried about what else he could sense. Like when your dreams got too intense and you woke up flushed and breathless, or the thump of your heart when he came out of the shower with his hair all wet and messy around his face instead of slicked back like he preferred.

You’d turn your phone away from him to Google things like human hybrid dating and is dating your hybrid unethical, reading through stories of perfectly happy hybrid couples, and then the responses from online commentators shouting about how it was completely morally bankrupt. Those tabs would be closed just as quickly as they were opened. Morality aside, you didn’t ever want Enjin to think you were using him to fill the void of a relationship, or scare him off.

In the last week, though, he’d been acting strange. Instead of his usual, laid-back self, he’d seemed so tightly wound he was going to snap at any moment. It was a rare moment that you’d have any time to yourself at all - if you didn’t lock the door to the bathroom you had no doubt he’d follow you in. After showering you’d find him on the floor of the hallway waiting for you to return, golden eyes gleaming in the low light.

He’d taken to wrapping his tail around your leg while you sat in the living room in the evenings, the fur tickling at your skin, or rubbing his cheek and purring against your shoulder when you were laying in bed together, scrolling through TikTok. And you’d nearly screamed when he told you he wanted to ‘try something’ and then licked a wet stripe with his tongue up the column of your neck. You’d shied away from close contact for a day after that, the look in his face giving you not one shadow of a doubt that he’d do it again just to watch you squirm.

One thought rung through your mind for days. Did he know? Had he seen your search history somehow, or was there some pheromone that he could sense and you couldn’t?

The answer hit you like a train one evening, phone pressed close to your face so Enjin, lying across your lap like a housecat, couldn’t see the screen. A cutesy pink sparkly Instagram post pops up on your feed. Hybrid How To: Ruts! No amount of bubble fonts and emojis could dull the impact of reality crashing down on your head.

Enjin grumbles wordlessly as you shift him off your lap and scurry over to the drawer of forgotten documents that you’d crammed in there over a matter of months. It takes a moment to find the cream coloured folder that Tamsy had handed to you all those months ago.

You flick past pages of feeding routines, activity recommendations, until you find the right page.

‘Are you comin’ back?’ Enjin calls from the couch, nearly making you drop the paper.

‘Yeah - yeah, sorry. Give me a second.’

Males of this hybrid type prefer to stay in their ‘territory’ (usually their home and the surrounding area) and, if paired, will spend this time caring for their cubs. Females have instinctual patterns of venturing out of the territory to bring home food and supplies for their ‘pride’.

Periods of high reproductive desire (‘ruts’) can be predicted through a variety of natural behaviours: males will have a desire to be within 1 and 3 metres of their chosen partner, scenting and resting alongside them in order to bond before the rut arrives. Doses of suppressing hormones can be delivered during this period in order to prevent rut from occurring if the hybrid is not part of a desired bonded pair.

Shit.

Shit.

You stuff the file back into the drawer and contemplate whether it’s too late to text Tamsy. Did you even want to admit that you’d completely ignored his carefully-compiled instructions?

Carefully, you slink back to the sofa. Enjin didn’t look any different to usual.

‘What’s up?’ He asks, watching you with amusement as you lean over him and place your hand on his forehead. Was that a shiver, or were you just imagining things in your panic?

‘Do you feel warm at all?’

He smiles, sharp canines flashing. ‘Why, you think I’m hot?’

‘Something like that,’ Your laugh sounds strained, even to you.

‘I’m fine, ma. Stop stressing.’

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

You knew you shouldn’t have trusted his easy confidence. Just like normal, he’d found his way into your bedroom once you were comfortable, taking his place in the bed and wrapping himself around you. Falling asleep was easy with him - you felt safe, and it was rare for your anxiety to wake you up now.

Except for tonight, apparently. Your phone informs you that it’s past midnight. You feel around on the bed behind you, to no avail. Enjin is gone.

You pad out of the room into the dark apartment. He’s not in the bathroom, the kitchen, the living room - he can’t have left the apartment. For a moment, with the amount of time he’d spent in your room, you’d forgot about his bedroom.

You rap at his door gently, even that tiny noise feeling like firecrackers going off in the silence. Leaning closer, you hear from inside the shuffle of sheets, his distinctive chuff, and something else - a rhythmic smack of skin. You jolt away, cheeks burning, ready to make yourself scarce so he can have some privacy.

Too late. He called your name from behind the door, voice strangled and wavering. ‘’S that you, ma?’

‘Uh - yeah,’ You reply. ‘You disappeared. Just wanted to check that you’re okay.’

You hear him bark out a laugh. ‘’M very not okay.’ The door shifts, a crack of space opening, letting you see Enjin’s darkened, glossy eyes and bare chest, glistening with sweat in the low light. You - your scent, maybe, or just the sight of you - made him visibly shudder, his head falling with a thunk against the doorframe.

‘Is there anything I can do?’ Your mouth feels suddenly dry, nerves making your knees weak. ‘To… help?’

He lets out a shaky breath, unblinkingly taking in your form. ‘If you come in here I don’t think I can let you go,’ He admits, the gravel in his tone shooting through you.

‘I don’t want you to be hurting.’ You reach out, push the door fully open and confirm what you’d already suspected. Enjin wore only a pair of boxers, the fabric straining, his skin damp and flushed with heat. Stepping into the bedroom was like stepping into a sauna, a pile of tissues thrown to the floor and revealing the extent of his issue. His skin burns against yours when **he pulls you into his arms to press his face into the crook of your neck.

The gentle scrape of his canines made you squeak. They already looked sharp in his mouth - against your fluttering pulse they felt dangerous.

‘Hah— smell so good, angel,’ He pants into you, unconsciously grinding against your thigh in his need.

‘Gonna let me help you, Jinnie?’ You ask, pushing him backwards to the bed. He was pliant, allowing you to dip your hand into his boxers and touch him. He was so hard it must have been painful, soft skin scorching your palm. The size of him makes you shiver; your fingertips barely meet around his girth.

The sound of his breath trembling at your touch brings you back into the present, the shuddering of your hybrid trying not to rut up into your touch like a desperate virgin. You free his cock from his boxers, giving it a few experimental pumps that made him writhe.

Your other hand comes up to cup his cheek, stroking him tenderly with your thumb. He shudders, pushing his face against your palm.

‘Fuck,’ He hisses, and a moment later you feel the warmth of his cum running down your wrist. You stand in shock for a brief moment - you’d only just touched the guy. Was he that pent up? He smiles bashfully, the expression bizarrely cute for the situation. ‘My scent gland,’ His voice is hoarse and a little embarrassed. ‘’S sensitive.’

You bring your hand up to your mouth, licking up the trail of cum that painted your skin. He growls lowly, fingers digging into your hips. Fingers cleaned, you bring his face to yours, pushing the taste of him into his mouth with your tongue. He moans into you, the vibration sending shockwaves to your core.

‘Let me touch you, please,’ He breathes, a string of spit connecting his lips to yours. A blend of nerves and excitement course under your skin like an electric current.

Your sleep shorts are off in an instant, and Enjin groans. He already sounds gone, the feeling of your wetness like a dream. ‘Not even touched you yet, ‘n you’re already this wet.’ He’s nearly inaudible with awe, pads of his fingers ghosting over your clit and making you writhe. ‘Gotta stretch you out ‘fore you can take me.’

One thick finger pushes into you and you whine at the feeling of him prodding at your walls, the stretch from just one of his digits more satisfying than anything you could do to yourself.

‘Feel that?’ He teases. There’s the Enjin you’re used to.

‘I would if you’d move,’ You rasp, and he grins. Another finger sinks into you, scissoring your walls open and making you bite down on your lip to stifle a moan.

He leans down, staring directly at where his fingers are working their way in and out of you. You try to close your thighs, embarrassed by the heat of his gaze, but he stops you with his free hand.

‘Lemme look at you, ma.’ His cheeks are flushed with his rut, eyes glassy and hypnotised by the sheen of slick you’re leaving on his digits. ‘So fucking pretty.’

‘Jinnie,’ You keen, hips bucking up into his hand.

’Sorry, baby,’ He doesn’t sound sorry at all. ‘Need to be inside you.’

Despite his careful preparation and just how soaked **you are, the bullying press of his cock against your entrance feels daunting. Enjin buries his face into the crook of your neck, teeth rasping against your skin.

‘You can take it, angel, c’mon,’ He babbles against your skin, his voice making you clench around him, working his cock torturously slowly into you. ‘Doin’ so good, pretty girl, feel made for me.’

‘More, Jin, please,’ You whine, his grip on your hips stopping you from bucking up into him. His careful movements are infuriating - you feel like you’re melting with how much you want him and he’s treating you like you’re made of glass*.*

‘Don’t w’na hurt you.’

You wrap your legs around his narrow hips and pull, making Enjin sink into you all at once. Your back arches at the sudden fullness, the relief, eyes rolling back in your head. It feels as though he’s in your stomach, the overstimulated twitching of his length reminding you just how big he is.

Grabbing his face in one hand, nails digging into his cheeks, you make him look at you. His golden eyes are gleaming and glossy, his lips bitten raw.

‘Fuck me, Enjin.’

In an instant he has your legs over his shoulders, somehow even deeper inside you like this, and finally he starts to move inside you. The sound of your wetness fills the room, the schlik of Enjin pulling almost entirely out of your pussy before slamming back into you. You grab for purchase on his forearms, leaving scratches in your wake that make him snarl in pleasure.

It’s almost too much, the overwhelming feeling of him, and unconsciously you move up the bed away from his vicious thrusts. He yanks you back down, grip firm around the plush of your thighs.

‘No way, mama. You can’t beg for this ‘n then try to leave.’ His voice is little more than a growl. ‘Shit, you feel too good.’ You feel like you’re about to snap, the pressure building to a fever pitch. The clench of your body around him makes him curse, pushing you even further into the mating press to lock his mouth onto yours, swallowing all the cute little noises that escaped you.

‘Jin, ‘m close,’ You manage.

‘Can I?’ He asks, desperate.

Your mind spins, dizzy with desire. ‘Wha—?’

He doesn’t wait for you to speak. ‘Can I cum in you?’ The whine in his voice makes you squeeeze and his hips stutter. ‘Need to fill you up, angel. Make you all pretty and round - fuck!’

You nod wordlessly, and your affirmation wrecks him. His thrusts get sloppy, hips slamming against yours. In that moment he moves his thumb over your clit and draws the messiest hearts over the nerves, sending electricity arcing up your spine. Light flashes across your vision as your climax consumes you. The feeling of your fluttering walls makes Enjin spill into you, cum painting your pussy in thick ropes. He keeps moving, making sure it reaches your cervix, fucking you through the rippling aftershocks.

Carefully releasing your legs from his shoulders without pulling out, Enjin collapses onto you. The weight of him stops you from floating off to the ceiling in your blissful state. He presses gentle kisses over your face, the humming purr from his chest making you laugh breathlessly.

‘I didn’t hurt you, did I?’ He asks quietly, his eyes clearer.

‘No,’ You whisper, coming your hands through his hair. ‘The uh - breeding was a surprise, though.’

He whines, head dropping to rest on your chest. ‘Sorry. It’s the hormones.’

’I think we’d have a cute baby,’ You muse, imagining a mini Enjin with your eyes and cute pudgy cheeks. You feel his tail flick against your calf.

‘You can’t say things like that,’ He groans, and his cock twitches inside you.

‘D’you think they’d have your ears?’ You ask, tweaking at the tip of his ear as you speak, purposely ignoring the way that he grinds his hips against you, and the sticky feeling of the cum that had escaped you despite his best efforts.

You have to call out of work the next day, and then two months after that you put in your request for maternity leave.

[umbrellaslut]

Could you do nsfw HC for gris, bro Santa or Corvus? If not that’s fine !! I love ur writing and just wanted to ask (any of these characters if you pick them I’ll be happy with!)

Corvus + Bro Santa Headcanons ʚ♡⃛ɞ ( separate )

a/n ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ : : i plan on writing a gris oneshot soon so i didnt include him!! i promise hes coming soon <3

BRO SANTA

⪼hes soo gentle with you

⪼ his big rough hands grip your hips so firm but still super careful like he is scared to break you , unless you beg him to go harder

⪼ he lovesssss giving you these slow , deep thrusts so you feel every thick inch stretching you open while he whispers praise in your ear

⪼ even when hes pounding you senseless , his voice stays all soft and apologetic it makes you melt

⪼ he is so into body worship he kisses down your neck and sucks these pretty dark marks on your chest , like he is claiming you as his

⪼ if you tug on his braid and it makes him groan all low and deep

⪼ aftercare is literally everything he pulls you against his broad chest still wearing that pale green bandana all half crooked

⪼ strokes your back with those large warm hands and mutters sweet praise after , apologizing for how rough he went

⪼ he dislikes leaving marks that last too long ( out of fear for dear seeing them ) but if you beg enough he’ll do it , but after he gets this cute guilty smirk and traces them later with his fingertips

⪼ sometimes he zones out mid fuck worrying if he is being too much for you but the second you moan harder or faster he switches up and rails you with all that controlled strength

⪼ he lovessss when you sit on his face , his strong arms lock around your thighs holding you right where he wants

⪼ he eats you out like it is his favorite thing ever focused and so thorough with these little apologetic noises if you squirm too much

⪼ condoms are non negotiable .

⪼ when he cums it is with this deep sexy grunt , and his whole body tenses up while he holds you so tight like he never wants to let go

⪼ he secretly loves when you call him bro during sex it makes him laugh all low and thrust harder for a second before he catches himself

⪼ aftercare always , non negotiable for him , he’ll wipe you down and bring you a drink while kissing your forehead and telling you how good you did

CORVUS

⪼ omg hes also a gentle giant

⪼ his big rough hands grip your hips so firm but still super careful like he is scared to break you , he barely speaks but his touch says everything , unless you beg him and then his grip tightens just enough

⪼ he lovessssss kissing your face all over , he stays mostly quiet , just low breaths against your skin and the occasional soft “good…” when you take him deep

⪼ when he leans in to praise you , you smell the dark roast coffee on him , its almost overpowering

⪼ even when hes pounding you senseless , his voice stays low and steady , almost apologetic in that deep rumble , like he’s shameful for how much he wants you

⪼ he doesn’t talk much during it but when he does it’s short and intense , murmuring your name like it’s something sacred while his grey eyes never leave your face

⪼ arkha pulls you close against his chest after every thrust , strong arms wrapping around you like he’s shielding you

⪼ he’s so composed most of the time but , you can tell when he’s losing it because his breathing gets heavier and his hands tremble just a littleee as he holds back

⪼ aftercare is quiet and grounding , he’ll hold you for a long time without saying much , just stroking your back with those large hands and pressing soft kisses to your forehead

[umbrellaslut]

Enjin and reader fucking in the jeep while riyo and zanka gossips and watches them while they cringe😂😂 I'd prefer if this was more focused on riyo n zanka too..👀👀👀👀👀

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚Just another completely normal patrol in the Abandoned Zone , right ?⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

content warnings ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ : :

sexual content (described off-screen through sounds and motion only) , heavy secondhand embarrassment and cringe , voyeuristic elements , implications of car sex with the jeep visibly rocking , light team gossip and banter .

The jeep was parked kinda crooked behind a big pile of rusted scrap , like Enjin had just yanked the wheel and said “good enough” . The whole thing was rocking now , slowwww and steady , backkkk and forth , with that telltale creak of old suspension doing its best not to give up . Fogged up windows , muffled sounds drifting out every few seconds . You didnt need to see inside to know exactly what was happening .

Riyo and Zanka were patrolling .

Riyo leaned back against a chunk of broken concrete , thin arms loosely crossed , one boot tapping the dirt . Her scissors dangled from her fingers like she had forgotten they were there . She kept glancing over at the jeep , her glossed lips twitching into this half smirk .

“Holy shit “ , she muttered , voice low and amused . “Theyre really going for it .. Cant see shit through the windows” she squinted trying to makeout the details , “but the car is literally vibrating .. “

Zanka was standing a little farther away , pretending to scan the horizon like a proper lookout . His face was already flushed , ears pink , and he kept shifting his weight like the ground was suddenly too hot . Every time the jeep gave a particularly obvious lurch , he flinched .

“ This is so embarrassin’ ” , he whispered , even though no one else was around . “ Were literally out here patrolling and actually doing our job while our captain is doin’ .. that in the team jeep “ Hes turned away from riyo and the jeep , suddenly very interested on the wood grain on lovely assistaff

Riyo snorted softly , tilting her head as another low groan floated out from inside . The rocking picked up pace for a second , makin the side mirror wobble .

“ Honestly , kinda impressive how hard theyre shakin it “ , she said , biting back a laugh .

Zanka made a strangled noise and rubbed the back of his neck , refusing to look directly at the car .

“Riyo please , im trying real hard not to picture nothin’ . “

Zanka groaned and finally risked a quick glance . The jeep rocked harder , suspension whining . He immediately looked away again , covering half his face with his hand .

“ Im dyin’ , actually dyin’ . What if a trash beast shows up right now ? Wed be too busy cringin’ to death to even do anything. “ , he paused , voice dropping . “ Also theres no way Enjins tall ass even fits in that back seat. “

Riyo laughed under her breath , coming back to stand beside him . She bumped his shoulder lightly with hers . She tilted her head , listening again as another muffled sound slipped out . “ Im totally telling Semiu as soon as were back so she can tease him about it . “

Zanka shook his head , a reluctant little smile tuggin at his mouth despite the embarrassment . “ Youre evil . I just want this to be over so we can bleach the backseat and never speak of it again . “

The jeep just kept rocking , steady and shameless .

a/n ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ :: is this too freaked out for yall be honest.. 😭 i wasnt sure if i should make it longer bc of thisss..

[umbrellaslut]

actual tears left my eyes while reading your zanka fluff smut it’s so on point 🥹

i need to write more zanka !! i love writing for him because of his accent 😭

[umbrellaslut]

i wanna be Enjins controversially young gf •͈ᴗ⁃͈⊹

also im working on all the things in my inbox !!

AUAUAGAGSH HES SOOOO AUAUAGGGHS I CANTTT IM GOING CRAZY I NEED HIM AUAUUHHH

[umbrellaslut]

super super soft sex with zanka <3

- soft sex with zanka 𐙚⋆°🔷.⋆ᥫ᭡

content warnings ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ : :

zankas insecure :( , p in v sex , virgin zanka , slow n tender , reassurance , gentle sex , after care , fluff at the end ᨶ႒ᩚ

Zanka pulled you close on the old mattress , his long body kinda tense even though he was trying real hard to hide it. The hideout was quiet , just the two of you , and his mullet with those blond streaks kept falling in his face no matter how many times he pushed it back. His navy eyes flicked away for a second before coming back to yours.

“ C’mere , darlin’… if ya still want this , ” he mumbled , that familiar drawl shaky around the edges. He kissed your forehead real soft , then your cheek , like he was stalling .

You nodded and he let out a nervous breath , sliding between your legs slow. When he finally pressed in , just the tip at first , his whole body jerked and he made this quiet , broken sound in the back of his throat.

“ Shit… yer so warm… I-I ain’t never done this before , okay ? Don’t… don’t laugh at me if I mess it up. ”

He pushed in a little more , inch by careful inch , face buried against your neck so you wouldn’t see how red he was getting. His hips stuttered once , then found a real slow , gentle rhythm , almost too careful , like he was scared of hurting you or doing it wrong.

“ Does it… does it feel alright ? ” he asked , voice all low and worried , breath hot against your skin. Every thrust was soft and hesitant , not deep or fast , just steady and tender while he kept checking your face. “ Tell me if ya want me to stop , yeah ? I don’t wanna ruin this for ya… ”

You pulled him closer and he relaxed just a fraction , letting out a shaky groan when you clenched around him. His long fingers gripped your hip a little tighter , but still gentle.

“ God… ya feel too good , ” he admitted , his voice dripping with insecurity. “ I been thinkin’ about this… about you… for way too long. Didn’t think ya’d actually let me… ”

He kept moving slow , forehead pressed to yours , his soft hair tickling your cheek. Every now and then his hips would falter and he’d whisper another nervous “ sorry ” or “ am I doin’ this right ? ” but he never sped up , just rocked into you with that sweet , careful pace , eyes half-closed and full of quiet want.

When the pleasure started building for both of you , he got even shyer , hiding

You nodded and he let go with a soft , trembling moan , burying himself as deep as he could while holding you like you might disappear. His body shook against yours for a long moment after , breath coming in little huffs.

Afterward he stayed right there , still inside you , arms wrapped around your back real tight. He nuzzled into your hair , voice barely above a whisper.

“ Didn’t mess it up too bad , did I ? … Stay with me tonight , yeah ? Don’t wanna let ya go yet. ”

He sounded so damn vulnerable , but the way he held you was warm and steady , like he was finally lettin’ himself believe this was real.

a/n ʚ♡⃛ɞ :: hi i havent written in forever i hope this isnt too shitty .. i proofread for once so woah.. also send me req 😢

[olivejuicey]

mechanic!Enjin because he settled into my brain and did not leave. more adventures to come :)

MDNI, NSFW, 18+

content warning: spit kink, infidelity, p in v sex, Enjin's big mouth

“So how much longer until the car is ready?”

There was a twitch in Enjin’s eye as you asked the question, standing there dressed in soft colors while the dim lighting of the garage flickered off the dull walls. 

“Told ya, I need to do the diagnostics,” Enjin wiped his hands on his coveralls, grease stains leaving opaque streaks. He didn’t get why you were so annoying about this, you seemed like you had enough money to have another car but here you were. 

Bitching at him in his own place of business.

“Do you need to call a ride or somethin’?”

You shrugged, expression petulant. “My boyfriend is on his way.”

Enjin raised a brow and pursed his lips. “Prince Charming comin’ to save the damsel, huh?”

“Does that make you the dragon?” You crossed your arms now, lifting your tits a bit higher, pushing them against the thin fabric of your shirt. 

Enjin sucked his teeth. 

Well shit.

“Dunno,” came his admission as he turned away from you, walking further into the bay. “I’ll call when I know what the fuck is wrong with your car.”

He was too far away to hear you scoff, but he heard the slam of the front door as you stormed out. 

______________

He did end up calling to tell you about your car a few days later, and you didn’t answer. He left a message, short and sweet, and gave you the hours he was there to review all of the repairs. 

It was less than two hours later that you showed up, another tight shirt stretched thin, and your boyfriend tailing behind you. 

Enjin was under a Jetta, Riyo sliding him an oil pan when Zanka poked his head into the bay. 

“That girl is here,” Zanka stated, tone bored. “You want me to print the diagnostics to go over with her?”

Enjin slid out from under the car, sitting up and passing the wrench to Riyo as she took his place. “Nah, I’ll do it.”

Zanka shrugged, bored, and walked back into the garage to help Riyo finish the oil change. Enjin patted his shoulder as he passed, leaving a greasy print. He laughed as he watched Zanka tense, irritation palpable as he bit his tongue. 

Catchin’ on fast, that one.

Enjin waltzed into the front office like he owned the place, because he did, and caught your gaze head on. He caught the way your gaze flickered down his body before they settled back onto his face. He flashed a grin, all teeth. 

“Well, good news, your alignment can be fixed without much fuss, and the other issue was caused by a hole in your gas tank and we just ordered that part so it’ll be here by tomorrow,” Enjin leaned against the counter, flexing his biceps so the strained against the frayed edges of his sleeves. 

He watched your eyes move down again, staying a second too long a bit too low. You blinked when you caught him staring, stuttering. 

“Ye-yeah, that’s good then,” you shifted your weight, looking over his shoulder and through the window into the rest of the garage. “When should it be done?”

Enjin turned his head to follow your gaze. The back and forth was fun, broke up the monotony of the day. Having the boyfriend as an unwilling witness? Even better. He flicked his eyes to said boyfriend; arms crossed with a shiny silver watch on one wrist, thick wool blazer, pressed khakis… 

So, in essence, a loser. 

“Give me by the end of the week. Me or one of the kids will call-“

Your boyfriend scoffed, loud enough to stop Enjin in the middle of his sentence. When he looked up to address the interruption, your face was flushed and you were already trying to get the loser to shut up. 

A soft hand was placed on his forearm, nails digging into the skin hard enough to pull the expensive fabric. He shook you off, rolling his eyes.

“The garage my buddy owns would have had this fixed in a day, this is a waste of time. I shouldn’t have let you drive the damn thing if you were going to break it and then get it stuck at some east bumblefuck mechanic.”

“Well, I didn’t have a choice,” you spat, expression pinched. “The Pontiac died on this road. And Enjin-“ 

Taken aback, Enjin puffed out an amused breath. So you were paying attention. So much so you remembered his name without needing to look at the sign behind you branding the shop as his.

“-was kind enough to offer a discount when the car is so old that parts need to be found in a scrap yard.”

“Enjin? The fuck kind of name is that?”

“…names aside… The repair needs a deposit,” came Enjin’s smug interjection. He tapped the paper with his finger, and then moved to point at the final price. “Since it’s an old car, rare parts, so on so on… we need a deposit for half.”

You nodded, expression still cloudy, and tugged at your boyfriend's sleeve. It reminded Enjin of when Riyo was little, how even when she was in trouble or pissed, she still sucked up her pride to tug on his sleeve to ask for help. 

Weird thing to be reminded of here, especially when he was handed a credit card so heavy it nearly fell from his hand. It swiped heavy too, needing a little bit of force behind it to be able to move through the reader. Enjin watched as your boyfriend signed for the repair, glairing at him as Enjin held a hand up to wait for the receipt to print. 

“For how much this costs, this better be perfect when we pick it up,” he sneered. Enjin blinked at him, not really intimidated, more shocked at the gall of a man to threaten another man in his own domain. 

“Hey, stop it,” you reached for your boyfriend now, hand once again gripping his arm as you pulled him back. “Enjin said it would be fixed, and it will be.”

Enjin nodded to corroborate. “It’s an easy fix, man, promise it’ll be like brand new once I’m done.”

Your boyfriend scoffed, shaking you off and moving towards the door. You followed wordlessly, only turning back for a moment to offer an apologetic look. Enjin just shrugged, not even bothering to watch you leave as he turned back to the register to file the receipt into the system. Not that he didn’t want to, but he hoped that if you thought that he was more hurt than he was then maybe you would come without the dead weight the next time. 

He didn’t say he was a good guy, just an observant one. 

Zanka and Riyo popped their heads back into the front off once the bell at the front door stopped tinkling. Enjin didn’t pay them any mind as they crowded towards the window to watch you and your boyfriend walk across the lot. 

“He looks uptight as shit,” Riyo observed, sneaking a glance towards Enjin as he finally turned his head to watch outside the window. “And you said she’s been pretty spunky?”

He hummed in confirmation, still watching out the window. “She was hot the first day she was in here, like really damn angry. I thought she was going to throttle me every time I tried to talk to her in the tow truck.”

“And she’s with the human equivalent of a graham cracker?”

“Zanka!” Enjin scolded, mouth tipping into a grin. “That’s an insult to graham crackers everywhere… he’s definitely an overdone steak. Now, cmon,” Enjin moved to turn off the ‘open' sign and grab his keys off the hook. “Let’s close up so I’m not late picking Rudo up from school…again”

—---------------

True to his word, Enjin called less than a week later to let you know that he’d finished the repair. To be honest, he’d enjoyed it. It wasn’t often that a Pontiac Firebird found its way into his shop. He had come on his days off to toy with it, adjusting this and that as the kids sat and did their homework on stacked crates and boxes. 

You had asked if he could keep the shop open later because you couldn’t get off of work any earlier. He considered telling you no, but then you let slip that your wet blanket of a boyfriend was settling in on a resort while you had offered to stay behind to get the car. 

“Used all my PTO for the vacation that they won’t let me talk a half day to get the car,” you complained, unaware that Enjin was pumping his fist on the other end of the line, while also being the recipient of Zanka’s questioning stare. 

So, he benevolently agreed to staying open late on Friday so you could come and pick up your shitty boyfriend’s super cool car. Because he maybe, kinda, thinks you have a really pretty smile and thinks that you would look great spread out on his c-

“As if this day isn’t already shitty,” you mumbled, shutting the door behind you and dulling the sound of the pounding rain outside. Enjin jerked his head towards you, eyes scanning and taking in your soaked blouse, fabric sheer. You snapped your eyes up to him and furrowed your brow, clearly uncomfortable to be exposed. 

Enjin caught your eye and moved, rifling under the desk to the box of sweatshirts he kept handy for new hires. He pulled out one that didn’t seem too big and moved around the desk to hand it to you. He grabbed a towel from the basket on the floor as well, pushing both into your hands before you had a chance to object. 

“Thank you,” you mumbled, moving to hold the sweatshirt under your arm as you quickly dried your hair and patted down with the towel. Enjin took it once you were done, tossing it into the other pile of things destined for the laundry before he opened back up on Monday. When he turned back, you were in the sweatshirt, hood half hanging off your head as adjusted. You turned to pick up your bag you had placed on the floor and Enjin felt his chest stutter as he saw you wearing his name via the logo on your back. It felt intimate, like a brand, or a tattoo. 

“Better?” He asked, shoving his hands in his own hoodie pocket, eyes scanning your face for any improvement. 

You did a little nod, unintentionally snuggling deeper into the sweatshirt and breaking Enjin’s restraint further. “Yeah, much. Thank you, Enjin.”

He nodded and turned away quickly, hoping you didn’t see his own cheeks heat up. “Yeah, sure, now c’mon so I can show you the repairs and you can square up on the last of the payment.”

He started to walk then, listening for your quick steps behind him before making his way back into the bay of the garage. He brought you to the car, sleek paint shining from the overhead lights. Enjin leaned down and pointed out the small repairs and replacement parts. He noted where he added in extra tweaks for improvement, on the house. Because, fuck, even if the car is owed by some asshole, you’re still driving it so he wans it to be performing at top capacity. 

He doesn’t know how but he ends up yapping to the point where you end up in the front seats of the car, knees drawn up into the passengers seat as Enjin babbles on about fuel types and horsepower. 

“Didn’ mean to bore you,” Enjin sank into the driver’s seat, knees knocking into the steering wheel. 

“Nah, I like it,” you admitted. “He didn't tell me much about it, just wanted it because others wanted to have it… I ended up doing my own research but nothing made sense to me.”

Enjin snorted, moving a hand to scratch at his head. “Can he even drive it?”

You shrugged. “Doubt it… this model is a manual and I’ve never seen him drive one.”

Typical… 

Enjin leaned his head back, closing his eyes. “As much as I could talk about this pretty baby all night… let’s get you checked out so you can drive off into the sunset and make your flight to Prince Charming.”

He then heard your sigh, and the creaking of the seat as you moved. He felt the soft puff of your breath against his ear, and smelt the faint mint on your breath. He opened his eyes, watching you lean closer to him 

“I thought we established that I was more into the dragon?”

You tasted like the sweetest victory he’s ever had the pleasure of being a part of the moment your lips crashed onto his.  One hand moved it’s way into your hair and the other went to the lever under the seat to jerk it further back. He knocked the back of the chair back too, dragging you with him as he leaned back. 

You followed willingly, lips molding against his as hands roamed. He moved to cup your face once you got comfortable on his lap. His tongue was welcomed eagerly as you opened to him, soft sounds slipping from your mouth to his as you both failed to stay still. 

You broke the kiss suddenly, turning to mouth his neck, teeth scraping down his tattooed neck as he shivered. His hands froze as they moved to your waist and he slowly realized what was happening. Here he was, with a customer, getting handsy in said customer’s boyfriend’s car… Not something he would want plastered in a Yelp review. 

He gently pushed you back, forcing you to sit up as he caught his breath, hands moving back to rest at your waist. You looked down at him, eyes, questioning and lips kiss swollen. 

Don’t get Enjin wrong, he loved the back and forth that was developing and he was sad he was going to lose that after he finished the repair but this? This? 

Not expected, but not welcomed either. Like he said, he’s not a good man. Just observant. 

Like he’s observing your heaving chest, covered by a sweatshirt that has his logo on it… he needed to stop. 

“Why did you stop?” You ask, a whine trembling at the edges of the question, tugging at Enjin’s heart. 

“Nothin’ you did, baby, I promise,” he confessed, hips shifting as you settled further into his lap. “This just isn’t somethin’ I think we should be doin’ right now.”

You nodded, hands pressing flat against his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his sweatshirt. You didn’t say anything as you remained on his lap, thighs tensed. 

Enjin sighed, squeezing your waist firmer now, urging you to get up, but still not helping you move. You seemed to stay transfixed, fingers continuing to flex and curl. Your hips shifted again, slight enough that it could appear to be an accident, but given the way your lids lowered, Enjin assumed that it was anything but.

He didn’t push the issue, hands now moving down to grip your ass and guide your movements, His fingers pressed into your jeans, rough enough that you could feel the pressure on your skin underneath. You leaned forward, angling yourself differently and giving Enjin room to move more freely now.

Without a word, he raised his hips slightly, chasing the friction as you moved. He watched your face morph as he ground against you; cheeks burning and pupils blown. He’s sure he was doing no better, his own heart beating a quick staccato in his chest. You leaned again, further this time, to capture his lips in a kiss. 

“Atta girl, fuck it, right?” He taunted, venom snapping between the words. His own resentment and jealousy bubbling to the surface. “Get down and dirty with me, and go home to the squeaky clean pinched asshole.”

“Enjin,” you panted against his mouth, moving on hand to his belt after you had rucked up his shirt enough to get at his belt. He felt your hand fumble, lazily watching you struggle. 

“Can’t do much for yourself, can you?” He moved a hand  to join yours, helping you unbuckle his belt and undo his jeans. He moved his hands to rent behind his head and left the rest to you, helpfully lifting his hips again to allow you to shuck his pants and underwear off. He hissed and glanced down as the cool air hit his cock. 

You lifted your own shirt, ripping it off in one go and unclasping your bra to join your tops somewhere in the car. Enjin scoffed, facade of nonchalance disrupted by the twitch his dick gave once your tits were out. 

“No ceremony, huh? Right to the main attraction?”

“You don’t ever shut up, do you?” You mumbled, moving to undo the clasp on your own belt and leaning up to finish the job. Enjin just watched, unhelpful and a little spiteful, and relished in the urgency your desire was manifesting. Your hands were shaking, movements jerky while your breathing stuttered. 

Bet your wet blanket boy-toy barely got a fraction of that sorta reaction. 

But why was he even thinking of that asshat right now? When he had you now perched over his cock? He moved his hand up to meet your clit, rubbing softly as he explored. His fingers slipped easily as he moved. 

He tsked, saliva pooling in the corners of his mouth. Another time…

“Let’s see you, baby,” came his urging, taking his hand to move it to your mouth. You accepted the fingers without much thought, mouth opening mindlessly and closing around them to suck and taste. Enjin let out a wistful sigh as his mind drifted to other uses for your mouth, but was quickly brought back to earth when you sank down on top of him. 

The car was still cramped, leather creaking under the combined weight as the windows began to fog. Your hand streaked down one of the windows as it came to rest on the door while you lowered yourself onto him. 

The wet sound of your pussy echoed in the small area, Enjin’s own cock throbbing at the noise. He watched as he filled out, mouth slightly agape at the stretch. He moved to rub at your clit again, urging you to relax as you let out soft pants and keens.  

“Didn’ realize you were this big…” You breathed out as you sank down on him fully, each word broken up with soft gasps as his fingers picked up their pace. He nodded along as you spoke, urging you to continue. 

Your hips stuttered, chasing the friction of his fingers but hindered as you were with him inside you. Enjin enjoyed watching you, face a picture of reluctant pleasure as your hips ground in quick, stuttering movements. 

“Just relax, angel… do what feels good,” Enjin stopped the rubbing on your clit, instead moving to grip both of your ass cheeks. His hands fit them perfectly, the globes filling his palms and allowing him to grip as tight as he pleased. He lightly lifted, urging you up slowly, and then moved you back down. You followed with a hesitant noise that soon morphed into a moan as he bounced your ass faster. 

You didn’t have much room to move in the car, so Enjin used what little space he had to his advantage. That, and the fact that your ass was acting like a basketball with the way it sprang off of his thighs with every bounce… 

The Firebird squeaked as you rode him, moans mixing together as you leaned forward to claim his lips again. You moved your hands suddenly, cupping his jaw and then gripping it tight. He opened, brow raised in question, and you just sucked your teeth. 

Enjin felt his pupils blow out. 

He opened his mouth obediently and welcomed the spit that fell from your mouth into his. With a groan, he threw his head back before lurching up and wrapping himself around you. 

“Jus’ wanna keep you here…” Enjin gripped you tighter, still guiding  you in  a shallow glide as you ground against him. He was too worked up for anything else right now, too caught up in the noise of the leather and metal and the humidity of the clammy air in the car. He could feel you poised like a coil against him, breathing shallow as you bit against the junction of his neck and shoulder. 

He felt you more than heard you come; walls fluttering around his cock as you tipped over. The little noise you made after the last pulse is what got him, his own release flooding your drenched cunt as he unloaded. He groaned against your mouth while he knocked his teeth against yours in a sloppy kiss. 

It took a moment for him to come back because he truly was unwilling to admit this had to end. His trailed tattooed hands up and down your back as you sighed against him. He felt calm with an empty head, truly at peace…

“Is this a bad time to tell you I’m not on birth control?”

Enjin let out a sigh but it soon morphed into a chuckle, tucking a quick kiss to your temple before he leaned back. He quickly readjusted his chair and helped you back into the passenger seat. He caught the wince you tried to hide as you lifted off of him, your thighs trembling. The remaining moments passed in silence as you both dressed. Enjin hid his smile as he noticed you wearing the shop sweatshirt again, hood this time pulled up around your head to cover up your messy hair. 

Enjin reached out to tuck a strand back behind the hood before dropping it back to his side. “You want me to take you over to the pharmacy?”

You shook your head. “Nah, it’s late,” you looked out the foggy window at the darkness beyond the shop. “I need to get home and pack for the trip.”

Enjin nodded once, sharp. “Yeah, for sure.”

You nodded and moved your hand to rest on the door handle, biting your lip as you clearly hesitated to leave.

Fuck it.

“You’re clear on the balance if you come back to me, and only me, for repairs,” he blurted, causing your head to swing towards him. He liked how you still looked a little fucked out, eyes bright and skin all glowy. 

Yeah, he was making the right choice. 

“The car is too valuable to let some hack mess with it. As long as you drive this, you come to me, okay? I’ll only charge for parts, no labor.”

You smiled at him, a soft thing that made his heat skip. “Yeah… you want my number then?”

[umbrellaslut]

meow send me fic ideas pls ᨶ႒

! also sorry ive been gone 4 so long—! ive been super busy ;( + i changed my username and layout !

ok bai i love u ⋆. 𐙚 ˚